#and the owner told me to just be aware of the symptoms but

[skzhocomments]

A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

---

Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Chapter word count: 4.4k words

It was cold.

The winter wind hit your cheeks mercilessly, bringing a chill down your spine and making you shiver.

Why me?  You thought, tears stinging the corners of your eyes but not daring to fall yet. Crying made you tired, and you were already tired enough. Your feet were swollen from the walking, your arms sore from carrying the small bag with the few items you managed to take with you, and your back hurt from the weight of your ever-growing belly.

7 months.

That’s how long you’ve been pregnant for.

You were one of the unlucky ones who didn’t see pregnancy as this wonderful miracle the media made it out to be. For you, it was the most horrible thing you could’ve gone through. 

The first three months, you’ve been sick and felt the need to throw up each time you smelled anything. Anything. The next 3 months, you’ve felt so tired, you could barely get out of bed. Another nail in the coffin of your relationship. It also didn’t help that your partner has been borderline abusive ever since you told him about the baby – which was the very reason you’ve left at this late hour basically penniless.

And now, the cravings. Damn, these fucking cravings – what made you stop in front of a small restaurant called “Know your Cats”.

What a strange name, you thought and chuckled a bit.

From outside, “Know your Cats” looked like a cosy place. There didn’t seem to be too many people in, probably because of the late hour, but whatever they ordered smelled amazing. You wanted to eat it so badly. So, you went in and sat down at one of the tables in the corner of the small restaurant, as far away as possible from other people. You didn’t dare to take off your winter coat yet, but inside was warm. So warm, it almost warmed up your heart too.

Soon enough, a young waiter approached you.

“Good evening, ma’am, what can I get for you? Considering that I haven’t seen you here before, it must be the first time you come to our restaurant. So, maybe I could bring you something to drink while you consult the menu. Maybe some water?” he spoke quickly in a friendly tone and pulled out a pen and a small notebook.

Watching him talk so fast was pretty funny to you, you thought his chubby cheeks looked amusing when so many words per second would get out of his mouth.

“Uhm… sorry, but…” you didn’t dare raise your head, aware of the light bulb towering above you. After all, you’ve chosen to leave home at such a late hour for two reasons:

1. Your partner was away God knows where.

2. The dark bruises all over you. Ah, and your busted lip, the accessory that completed your look. The cherry on top.

However, the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

“… I was wondering what the people over there are having… it smells really good.”

“Oh, thank you! That’s our dear owner’s speciality! A secret recipe, if you will!”

The boy’s excitement brought a smile to your lips.

“It’s really just a fancy pork ragu.” He whispered, winking.

“Could I please know how much a serving costs?” you spoke quietly, counting in your head how much money you had in your pocket.

$7. Yes, that’s all your dear partner left for you to get some food when he left “on a business trip” 5 days ago. You knew that this was just code for cheating, and you cursed yourself yet again for not keeping your job 5 months ago when your pregnancy symptoms started getting worse. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have endured his abuse for so long.

God, how could you have been so stupid? You weren’t even married, yet you let yourself become completely dependent on him as soon as the pregnancy test came out positive. You let him drag you down, comment on your weight, physically and financially abuse you, yet you stayed for so long. The thought of homelessness weighed heavier than everything else you’ve experienced living with him, until it didn’t.

“That’s $15. Would you also like something to drink with it? I heard orange juice is one of the best drinks to have while pregnant, and the owner makes a delicious one!”

$15. But you only had $7.

He scribbled something in the notepad and kept talking, but you didn’t even hear anything else he said. You just felt your eyes swell up with tears again, your vision getting blurry.

You were so hungry.

You started petting your belly and thought of the small child growing inside of you. There were no words to describe how terrible you felt for putting your future child through this. If you were alone, you wouldn’t mind going hungry, but knowing that you were hurting someone else as well – someone you loved so much already – was killing you.

“I… I can’t afford that…” you smiled bitterly, your voice so quiet, barely audible. “Maybe… there’s something on your menu that’s $7 or less?”

“I don’t think…” the young waiter rubbed his nape apologetically.

“That’s- that’s okay, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” You tightened the coat around your frame and prepared yourself mentally to get up and face the cold again.

Where were you going to go?

You didn’t want to think about it. But oh, you should’ve. You should’ve thought about it long ago and made a viable escape plan. Instead, you left with a small bag, $7 in your pockets and an almost empty phone. You also threw out your keys in one of the trash cans around the building you lived in with your partner, just to make sure you wouldn’t return.

“You know what, please wait a second. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” The young waiter said quickly and turned his back at you, hurrying towards the counter.

Like you had anywhere you could go.

~

“Hey, everything good? What’s got you running like that?” Minho started, amused by Han’s speed so late in the evening.

“Hyung, what should we do?”

Minho raised an eyebrow.

“There’s this woman – I don’t have all the details, obviously, but she looks… she has bruises all over. And she’s pregnant. And she only has $7 and-”

“Hey, slow down a bit, will you?”

“What I’m saying is” – he inhaled loudly – “let’s give her some food on the house. What do you think?”

“And why would we do that?” Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Hyung, don’t be so cold. Let’s help her! Please???”

“Why should we? We don’t owe anyone anything. Who comes to a restaurant with no money anyway?” Minho cursed out.

“You know what? Just go over there and see for yourself, if you don’t want to give her anything on the house, then I’ll pay for her meal myself! Greedy bastard.” Han replied in an annoyed tone.

“Yah, it’s not like business’ been going so well lately, asshole!” Minho rolled his eyes and cursed him out.

However, he wasn’t actually as indifferent as he wanted to seem – and he couldn’t ignore what Han said either. Maybe that’s what made him so special in his friend’s eyes. So, Minho went and grabbed a glass of some freshly squeezed orange juice.

Han said she was pregnant, maybe she has morning sickness? He thought, so he poured out some ginger tea as well. That helped Chan’s wife – one of his closest friends – when she was pregnant. It should help you too, right?

With a glass of juice in his right hand and a cup of tea in his left, he made his way over the bar to the only occupied corner in the room. The loud table in the middle of the restaurant motioned for him to come and requested the check, but Han was right behind Minho, so he took care of them in an instant, seeing them out and locking the door behind them, making sure to turn the “Closed” sign around.

~

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of two glass objects hitting the table.

You raised your head and noticed a glass filled with what you assumed to be orange juice, and a cup with a lid on top, but before you could investigate what was in it, the fresh smell hit your nostrils, bringing a smile on your face.

Ginger tea, your favourite.

A good-looking man took the seat in front of you. He was very beautiful. It was like his face was painted by a skilled artist – his mouth, nose and eyelashes looked perfect, and his skin was flawless, almost making you jealous.

Boys always have the best eyelashes. You thought, glossing over his features once more.

You quickly noticed that what you liked the most about him were his eyes. A deep shade of brown orbs that glistened like stars under the restaurant’s light. And they were looking right at you, observing your every move and mannerism. Catching a glimpse of your own reflection in his eyes made you unwittingly frown.

You noticed quickly what he was wearing: a casual shirt and jeans and an apron. Is he the chef? You questioned, but before you could say anything, the man introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Minho, the owner of the restaurant. Please.” He said, a kind smile forming in the corners of his mouth, while pointing at the drinks he brought.

“Hello, Minho. Thank you.” You smiled back and took a small sip of the orange juice. “This tastes nice. I’m Dal-Rae, by the way.”

Dal-Rae… Minho analysed your name in his head for a few seconds, thinking about how pretty it sounds. And looking at you, it seemed fitting, somehow.

Even with how tired your figure was, Minho could still be able to see behind the fatigue and notice your beautiful features.

“Nice to meet you, Dal-Rae, and welcome to Know your Cats.” He gestured proudly to the restaurant, making you chuckle.

“That’s a very funny name. What’s the inspiration behind it?”

“Well, that would be my three cats.”

“Oh my God, you have three cats?! That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, excited by the new information.

“You think so? Do you like cats?” He asked, his eyes sparkling.

“I love them! I always wanted one but…” but you never considered yourself responsible enough to take care of yourself, let alone of another living, breathing being. Or at least that’s what your partner made you believe about yourself the whole time you lived with him.

“You will never be a good mother” he would tell you. “You wouldn’t even be able to take care of a hamster, let alone a cat. And now you’re pregnant?! How will someone as horrible as you take care of a baby?! Don’t make me laugh!”

And you always believed him. After all, he knew you so well. Right?

“So, why did you keep it? Are you that self-centred? Did you really have to do this so I’ll never leave you?” he would scream at you, forgetting that it took two to tango. Forgetting that he was the one that took off the condom without your knowledge and permission so many months ago.

“You wanna see some pics?” Minho smiled genuinely and took out his phone, shifting your focus back at him. He seemed very hopeful that you would say yes, for some reason.

“I’d love to!” You replied honestly. You truly loved cats. They were adorable balls of fur, and you would cuddle with them all day if given the chance.

“That’s great! Okay, but before that… Jisung? Please bring out some servings of the special recipe for us, will you?” he spoke, and then opened his gallery and started showing you cute pictures of his three cats.

You learnt that their names were Soonie, Doongie and Dori and you pretty much remembered which was which from the first picture he showed you, something that truly surprised Minho. Not even Han knew all their names, and even if he would somehow remember them, he would mix up Doongie and Soonie. But for real now, was it so difficult to remember that Soonie had stripes and Doongie had a white belly? Come on!

“By the way, you can make yourself comfortable and take off your jacket. You must be hot with so many layers on you.” He got up and helped you with your winter coat, placing it neatly on a chair next to you.

“Oh, thank you…”

Jisung brought the food soon after you and Minho made some more small talk. He brought three servings with him and placed a plate in front of you, one in front of Minho and one in front of an empty seat, which he was quick to take.

Both Han and Minho started eating, but you felt a bit… weird. Out of place.

“Anything wrong?” Minho asked concerned, noticing that you didn’t even put your hand on the spoon.

“I… I really can’t… pay for this, unless… you accept $7?” You asked unsure and grabbed the crumbled notes from your coat pockets. You tried straightening out the notes as well as you could, but when you handed it to Minho, you noticed he looked at you with a big frown on his face, his eyes immediately softening.

He put his hands on the one hand you gave him that was still holding the money, and made you close it into a fist. It was his way of telling you that you should keep it.

“Don’t worry about it, you already paid when you listened to this weirdo talk about his cats for 15 minutes straight.” Han replied and patted your shoulder, as if he was comforting you for enduring so much.

“Yah, loudmouth, shut it!” Minho retorted. “And you better start eating while it’s still hot.” He took the spoon in front of you off the table and looked at you expectantly, as you hesitantly put the money back in your coat. When you were done, he placed the spoon in your right hand, gesturing to the food. “Come on, eat. Or do I have to feed you myself?” He kept looking at you, coercing you into trying a bite.

And damn, were you right! It not only smelled amazing, but it tasted heavenly.

“Fuck me, this is so good!” You said with no filter, forgetting for a moment that the men in front of you were, in fact, not your friends.

But eating with them did feel like getting food with a friend. Maybe that’s why you relaxed so much and spoke your mind freely, for what felt like the first time in years. You were not allowed to curse when you lived with your ex. It would start a raging fit from him, because “What kind of woman has such a rotten mouth?”, and you would regret opening your mouth and saying anything.

“Oops, excuse me!” you said, covering your mouth with your hands.

The two men, however, seemed to not mind your lack of manners, and started cheering when you told them that you loved the food.

~

“Thank you so much for this.” You said to Minho, both of you looking at how Han cleaned up the now empty table in the middle of the room. “Truly.”

“No worries.” Minho replied nonchalantly, his eyes darting away from you. Despite his indifferent tone, his mannerisms indicated that he’s somewhat nervous, as he rubbed his nape in slight embarrassment.

“I… uhm… really feel bad for not paying you at all for this. Like I said, I can only give you this much, but…” you grabbed your coat so you could take out the money again, but before you were able to do so, Minho stopped you by placing his hand on your wrist.

“Please keep them, that’s okay.”

“But…”

“I’m serious.” He looked straight at you, his glance alone convincing you to let it go. You didn’t want to risk annoying him, and it seemed your conversation would take that direction if you kept insisting.

“Okay. Uhm… I should take my leave now.” You said, petting your belly and grabbing your small hand luggage.

“Where are you going? Home…?” Minho treaded carefully, his words holding an inexplicable weight over you.

Home… I don’t have a home anymore.

You shook your head and tried to push the thoughts away, and tried thinking logically for once. Where could you go?

Letting out a small sigh, you replied, slightly dejected.

“Well… there should be a women's shelter about 4 km from here.”

“4 km?! Don’t tell me you plan on walking over there at 1 am in the middle of a winter night.”

You didn’t understand why his tone suddenly changed, and nor did Minho. He shouldn’t give two shits for a stranger, but he was somehow… worried for you?

“I mean… I don’t really have a choice… It’s not that far. I can make it. It’s only an hour walk away.” You replied, trying to convince him and yourself as well. The truth was that you were so tired, you could fall asleep if you put your head on the table, and your feet hurt so bad.

Being pregnant sucked.

“Let me take you. Jisung will be done in a minute and then we can go.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly- You already helped me so much.”

“I don’t even wanna hear it. Han, hurry up!”

“THERE’S STILL THE DISHES LEFT, HYUNG!”

“Just leave them. I’ll do them tomorrow morning.”

“OKAY THEN! I’M COMING!”

Without a second thought, Minho grabbed your bag and gestured to you that you could now go. Han went his own way, while Minho guided you to his car, in the opposite direction.

He opened the door for you and helped you in, actions that somehow made your stomach clench. No one’s acted so nice towards you. Ever.

And he was doing that for a complete stranger.

He started the car and drove to the destination you put in the GPS, and for the first time in your life, you felt an overwhelming feeling of safety. How funny it was – to feel so safe next to a stranger, when you haven’t once felt safe next to your so-called boyfriend – or rather, ex.

You were once again on the verge of crying as you’ve made this realisation in your head. How come you felt safe next to Minho? Was this really how you were supposed to feel next to someone else? Relieved, protected…

How come you’ve never felt this way before, next to your ex?

The 4-minute drive would’ve taken you more than an hour walk in the cold, so you now appreciated Minho even more for giving you a ride.

“So, this is it, right?” He said, parking in front of a small building that had all the lights off.

Weird, you thought and nodded unsure.

You both got out of the car and walked towards the building’s door, a small paper on it drawing your attention, almost burning your eyes.

“Unfortunately, due to a funding issue, the “Stay Safe” Women Shelter had to shut down indefinitely. In case of emergency, we recommend contacting our affiliate, “House of Hope” Homeless Shelter (+0X 0XXXXXXXXX) and they should offer you the help you need. We apologise for any inconvenience!”

The way your face dropped did not go unnoticed by Minho. It became clear to him that this has been your only escape route.

You slowly took out your phone from your pocket and clumsily formed the number on the paper, barely able to see with your screen’s brightness so low. You couldn’t turn it up though, since your battery percentage was so low, so you struggled and squinted your eyes, carefully pressing on each number on your phone, which proved to be so much more difficult through the tears building up in your eyes. It was getting harder and harder to swallow back the lump in your throat.

After a few rings, someone answered.

“House of Hope Homeless Shelter, this is Kelly, how may I assist you?”

“Good evening… I am contacting you because I needed some help and… I was just in front of the Stay Safe Shelter…”

“Oh, good evening, ma’am. Were you looking for a place to stay tonight?”

“Not just tonight… I don’t know for how long…”

“Are you alone, or are there also kids with you?”

“It’s just me… I’m 7 months pregnant.”

“We understand… Unfortunately, our shelter is full at the moment. The government retracted most of our funding, so these are difficult times. However, if you would be able to wait for a few minutes, I will try to contact other shelters to see if anyone would be able to take you in for now.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I will get back to you shortly.”

~

You let Minho know of the phone conversation and told him to head home, but he was adamant you would leave with him, or at least wait for the phone call in the comfort of the heated car. After some convincing, you found each other listening to some slow songs on the radio, enjoying the car’s warmth and watching the year’s first snow through the windshield.

Despite the peaceful atmosphere, you were restless and anxious. Your hands were trembling, and you couldn’t think straight. Where else would you go?

Minho didn’t say anything either. He kept thinking of ways to calm you down: should he lay his hand on top of yours and tell you that everything was going to be okay? Should he say anything at all? Why was he still with you, anyway?

You tried to think of anything else and ignore the feeling of impending doom settling in your stomach, so you looked out the window. Small snowflakes would land on the car’s hood and immediately turn to water due to the heat.

Your eyes would dart to Minho from time to time, who seemed to be lost in his own little world as he watched the same scene in front of you - the snowflakes dancing in the sky and landing on the car - and you remembered that one belief that watching the first snowfall of the year with someone would lead to falling in love with them. However, it felt like such a foolish thought, you immediately let it go.

25 minutes later, your phone’s ringtone snapped you both out of your trance. You made a mental note to change your ringtone after how anxious it made you feel right now, being sure that you won’t be able to keep hearing it again after this horrendous day.

“Yes?”

“Hello, ma’am? We apologise for the delay. Unfortunately, we were unable to find any shelter close to your location that would be able to accommodate you for tonight. We recommend going to a police station and asking for help, and you could try calling again tomorrow, when possible new resources would be available.”

“I… Seriously?” You started, but when the lady started apologising countless times on the phone for not being able to help you out, you simply ended the call. You wished the earth would swallow you whole, making you disappear for good.

But then you slapped yourself mentally. How could you be so selfish as to wish to disappear? You were not alone anymore. Your body was not yours alone anymore, and your baby didn’t deserve any of your selfish thoughts. You needed to be strong.

“What did they say?” Minho asked anxiously.

Why was he feeling like this anyway? This was so stupid, you thought. You’re no one. You’re just a random woman who stumbled upon his restaurant and took advantage of his kindness.

“They… they aren’t able to help me, so they recommended I go to a police station for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, they’ll make some room…”

“Then, should we go to a police station…?” Minho hesitated.

You snorted and turned to him, answering in a more annoyed tone than you would’ve liked to.

“Do you think I can go to the police looking like this?!”

Minho’s eyes grew wide, conveyed in them what could only be described as shock. You didn’t want to lose your cool, not against this man who’s been nothing but kind to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just… I’m very stressed right now and that didn’t come out as I wanted it to, and-”

“Why? Why can’t you go to the police? Are you trying to protect whoever did this to you?!” Minho cut you off and replied in an equally annoyed tone as you. However, despite the harshness in his voice, you didn’t get the feeling that he was angry. Instead, it felt more like he was scolding you.

“It’s not that! It’s just… I’m scared, okay? I’m scared they will ask me questions and when I tell them the truth, he’ll find out and come get me. He’ll… he’ll definitely find out. He’ll find me, and I’m scared of him. I just want me and my baby to be safe!” You continued, losing your composure for a moment and allowing this dreadful weakness to take over you. You started crying and placed your face steady between your palms, thinking about how pathetic you were being.

“Okay, you know what? I’m sure you are very tired right now.” He put one hand on top of your head and petted it gently, making you raise your face and look at him. His eyes were kind and assuring. “Resting is also good for the baby.” He continued, and as he said that, he put the car into gear and drove off.

“Where…?” you tried to ask, confused, but you ended up choking on a sob.

“Back to the restaurant. I have some extra rooms. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll clear your head and be able to think better.”

“Minho…” you sobbed. “Really? I… I can’t-”

“It’s okay, Dal-Rae. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure everything out tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much, but… are you sure…?”

“Mhm.” Minho brushed you off with his hand and continued driving, both of you staying silent, listening to the soft tunes on the radio.

When you arrived, Minho led you upstairs. You were surprised that the place had stairs in the first place, since you didn’t notice them earlier. On the top of the stairs, a door was separating the restaurant and the three-bedroom apartment Minho lived in.

“It’s so the cats don’t go out.” he explained, and you understood what he meant as soon as he opened the door and Dori came running and screaming at the both of you.

“What’s up? Hungry?” Minho replied and scratched Dori’s chin, and as the sounds of his voice rang throughout the apartment, Doongie and Soonie spawned out of nowhere as well.

“Oh my god, hi babies!” You exclaimed and smiled, quickly placing yourself on your knees to pet them, since you couldn’t exactly bend, your belly being so large by now.

You didn’t notice Minho’s smile. He was stuck looking at how quickly his cats accepted you and let you scratch their fur, Soonie even purring against your stomach and petting itself on it lovingly.

“Okay, enough playing, it’s late. Let’s get you up.” Minho put his palms under your arms and lifted you from the ground like you were a kid, bringing a slight chuckle to your lips.

---

Chapter 2

[clarepreed]

Fade Part Two: Small Beginnings

Story Content and Summary - 6,006 words. Deirdre and Archer, aware of an electric connection between them, begin to get to know each other as they make a new friend. No resus (yet). Symptoms.

Part One

--

Archer tamped down his nervous energy as he crossed the street, headed for the downtown breakfast place where he had agreed to meet Deirdre. Three days had passed since she’d saved him from a likely stabbing, just before fainting dead away in his arms. Three days of texting back and forth and one phone call. Three days of not being able to stop thinking about her, about her bravery and her voice and her eyes and her scent. 

The chime jingled as he opened the door, briefly dissipating his thoughts. He nodded to the host, murmuring that his date was already here, seated on the back patio. The young woman directed him to cut through the dining room and out the open garage-style door near the rear corner. He spotted Deirdre as soon as he was outside, at home in the restaurant’s garden, her hair down and her petite hands wrapped around a white mug. When she saw him, she sat the mug down and stood, pretty in a denim jacket and a dark blue dress that flared out from a fitted bodice down to her knees.

“You found it,” she murmured, gazing up at him with a broad smile.

Archer opened his arms instinctively before his thinking brain caught up with the rest of him. He offered her an apologetic grin, but didn’t lower his arms. “I’d like to hug you, if that’s okay.”

“Please.” Deirdre stepped closer to him, her arms sliding around his waist as he bent to embrace her. Her hair smelled like lavender and something sweet, and he had to force himself not to inhale deeply. He hugged her, aware he was holding her tight and too long, only to be surprised when he released her and she clung to him a few seconds longer. When she let go, she offered another smile and murmured in her careful way. “It’s good to see you.”

As they were seating themselves a server approached, setting a glass of water at Archer’s place and handing him a menu. “What can I get you to drink, sir?”

“Coffee, please.” He smiled up at the server. “With cream.”

The server nodded and reached for a small kettle near Deirdre. “I’ll get you some fresh hot water, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

He watched her drain the mug. “You got here early?”

“I did. I wanted to sit outside for a bit. Cheryl, the owner, told me she didn’t mind.” Deirdre leaned forward, her brow furrowing as she leafed through a small basket of sachets. “She just opened this place. I think I could like her. I met her at last months Downtown Business Association meeting.”

“It’s warmer out here than I expected.” Archer shrugged out of his brown leather jacket and draped it over the back of his chair.

“Autumn is a fickle season,” Deirdre replied, though her eyes were still on the tea. He watched her squint at one of the sachet tags before glancing up at him. “This is supposed to be a selection of herbal tisanes, but I like to make certain before I drink it.”

“You’re avoiding caffeine,” Archer guessed. He’d grilled Asa for any information about Deirdre’s condition that his brother could offer without examining her, from causes to antagonists to treatments. Asa had not held back, either from a professional desire to educate or from a sibling’s need to protect. Archer appreciated the information either way.

Deirdre arched an eyebrow at him, then nodded, her slim fingers plucking a tea bag from the basket. She unwrapped the sachet and dropped it into her empty mug. Her cheeks flushed pink. “It wouldn’t do to faint on you again.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t feel embarrassed, I mean. I’m glad you check these things.”

She smiled at him, then gestured at the menu. “My favorite thing here is the farmer’s breakfast, with fruit. I’ve been here multiple times a week since it opened.”

Archer grinned and dropped his eyes to the menu, skimming down the page until he found the dish in question. “Bacon or sausage, eggs to order, roasted tomato… I’ve never had grits.”

“Get them with jalapeño cheddar,” Deirdre said. He glanced up in time to catch her wink. 

“Alright, I’m entrusting my breakfast to your judgement,” he said. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling, especially when Deirdre kept smiling back at him. The server arrived then, dropping off a fresh pot of hot water for Deirdre, as well as a mug of coffee and a tiny pitcher of cream for Archer. He grinned ruefully at the server. “I’m having what she’s having.”

Deirdre laughed and explained: “Farmer’s breakfast. Bacon, eggs over easy, jalapeño cheddar grits, and fruit.”

“Perfect,” the server intoned. “Will this be one check, or—”

“One, please,” Deirdre replied, before Archer could open his mouth. “I’ve got it.”

“Deirdre—”

“Please, let me. As a thank you.” She smiled at the server as they left their table, then turned that smile on Archer. “I usually like to split, but I would very much like to treat you today.”

Archer poured a splash of cream into his coffee and stirred it with his spoon. He resisted the urge to dry the spoon with his mouth as he would have done at home, letting it drip for a moment into the mug before placing it on the saucer beneath. “The gesture is appreciated, and I won’t push it, but I’m pretty sure the entire reason you were unwell and needed help is because you saved my life. I should probably be buying you breakfast for the rest of my life, considering.”

He watched her fill her mug with hot water and then wrap her hands around the steaming mug.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you about your job,” Deirdre prompted, leaning forward in her chair. “But I wanted to ask you when I could watch you talk. You move your hands around a lot. And smile. I like watching you.”

“I don’t even notice what my hands are doing half the time,” Archer muttered, turning his hands palm-side up on the table. He felt warmth burn across his cheeks and in his chest as he thought about Deirdre enjoying the view. “Until I knock something over, that is.”

Then he took a sip of his coffee, wincing when it was still too hot. “As for my job, I write novels. I have two published books and I’m working on a third right now.”

“I have a confession,” Deirdre said, her grin canting sideways. “I Googled you.”

“I would be surprised if you hadn’t, honestly. I searched for you, too. Found lots of local news articles and your Instagram account. Thanks for accepting my follow, by the way. Oh, I found your business accounts, too. Your shop has a great online presence!”

“I bought your books. They should be here by the end of the day. I’d like you to tell me about them, though.” Deirdre wore a beaded necklace, several strands of seedlike beads in various shades of blue that wove together and nestled against her collarbones. Archer found his eyes tracing the line where the necklace met her skin. “You titled your debut Woe?”

Archer smiled, laughed, and shook his head. “My publisher named it that, and I was too anxious about getting published to argue. I originally called it Ides. I don’t want to give too much away, but that title will make sense once you read it. Also, thank you for buying my books. That’s…. It’s awesome, Deirdre. I still get just as excited each time someone I know wants to read my writing. Don’t, ah, let it stress you out, though. Woe, I mean.” He gave her what he hoped was only a half-serious look. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she replied, laughing softly. “But I’ll keep your warning in mind.”

“It’s about grief,” he explained. “I was getting some things out. The next book was much more lighthearted. Almost didn’t get that one published.”

“Why not?”

“It’s very different from Woe. It’s about a cardiologist who befriends a funeral home director. Asa helped me with the research. I employed a fair amount of magical realism.” He shook his head. “If you read it, you’ll see how different Bloodlines is from Woe, and I think you’ll understand why they were hesitant to publish a novel so different from my first.”

“I will be sure to let you know what I think.” She sipped her tea, her attention briefly caught by a squirrel hovering at the edge of the patio. Then she blinked and looked back at him. “What about your current work?”

“My agent and publisher hate me,” he laughed. “This one’s about fairies!”

***

Deirdre felt a wave of pleasant surprise roll through her and forced herself to take a deep breath before she smiled at Archer. “Fairies?”

She’d obviously thrilled him by asking, a boyish grin dominating his features and his big, long-fingered hands floating up to gesture as he spoke. “So, there are fae in every culture on Earth, at least as far as I’ve been able to determine. People think fairies are simply European mythology, but there are stories from Africa, Asia and the Middle East, Central and Latin America… Anyway…” He trailed off, his eyes shifting from her face to the server, who was approaching their table with two plates.

The server placed their food in front of them. “Is there anything else I can get you? Refresh your coffee?”

“Ah,” he glanced down at his mug and then met the server’s eyes. “Please.”

Deirdre reached for a piece of bacon, watching as he collected his thoughts and picked up his fork. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the explosion of fat and salt when she bit into the thick-cut bacon they served here. Her eyes briefly closed, and when she opened them, Archer’s eyes were on her mouth.

“Must be good,” he said, and she watched him try not to laugh. “It looked like you went to heaven for a second there.”

“I like bacon.” She blotted her lips with her napkin, her cheeks flushing hot. “Tell me more about your book!”

“Oh, it’s… I just wanted to enjoy writing something. It turned out my favorite parts of Bloodlines were the parts where I indulged in magical realism. So I’m writing a fantasy novel, but it’s going to be published alongside Woe as literary fiction, or at least general fiction. I’m being sneaky.” He broke his yolks with the tines of his fork. “So my work-in-progress assumes that the stories about the fae are based in reality.”

Dierdre made herself spear a cube of cantaloupe with her fork, but she kept her attention focused on Archer. “I think I would very much like to read it when it’s finished. Is there anything else you can tell me, or is it off-limits while you write?”

Archer took a moment to eat his eggs, nodding at the server as they refilled his coffee. He splashed a bit of cream into his mug. “I could talk all day about my novel. But Asa tells me that’s rude, though he frequently indulges me.”

Before she could respond, he shrugged and continued speaking. “There’s also the danger I tell you all about it and then end up taking it in a different direction.”

“But what made you choose fairies?” She forced herself to dig into her meal once the question was out, though it was hard to eat, both because of her interest in the subject and the way his warm brown eyes continually drifted to her mouth. 

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” Archer replied, wiping his mouth with his napkin before he continued. “I was obsessed with magic as a child. You couldn’t have convinced me of anything except that it was real. I loved all of it. Dungeons and Dragons, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Wheel of Time, Mists of Avalon… I could keep going. Asa used to tease me, saying I was just waiting for my magic to come in.”

He fell abruptly silent, his eyes unfocused with memory. Deirdre gave him a few long seconds before she spoke. “Were you?”

Archer blinked and his eyes refocused, a grin edged with sadness pulling on his handsome face. “Yeah. I was, truthfully.” His face flushed red.

“I think that’s wonderful,” she murmured, her voice soft. “But you stopped?”

He hesitated, then made an apologetic face. “‘I grew up’ sounds like an asshole thing to say right now. Because you seem genuinely interested, and I’m over here…” He lifted his hands and shrugged.

“You aren’t embarrassed, are you?” Deirdre took a sip of tea. “I hope you know you’ve said nothing you should feel embarrassed about.”

He flashed her a rueful smile that took up a surprising portion of his face. Even embarrassed, or however he was feeling, his smiles seemed to come often and easily. “It’s just that I was about to sound bitter. And I don’t want to do that this morning. I like you, Deirdre.”

“I like you, too.” Deirdre reached across the table and one of his hands met hers halfway. Their fingers intertwined, and she let out a soft gasp at the energetic frisson that traveled through her skin at his touch. The sensation was akin to magic, and she pressed her other hand to her chest, afraid she would cast a telltale blue glow.

His fingers gripped hers. “Deidre? Are you okay?” His eyes dropped to her hand pressed to her chest.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” After a second’s hesitation, she dropped her hand. His eyes lifted to her face; evidently she wasn’t doing anything else unusual as far as he was concerned. “It wasn’t my heart.”

***

Archer ran his thumb across Deirdre’s knuckles. She’d lowered her hand from her chest and he heard her reassure him that nothing was wrong. He gave her an evaluating look, noting her relaxed posture and pink petal coloring. Then he grinned. “You needed to burp, and I called you out.”

Deirdre’s light eyes went wide, and then she yelped with laughter. “Excuse me!”

“You’re excused.” Archer smiled and squeezed her hand. “Do you have time for a walk after this? We’ve finished our food, but I’m not ready for this… date to be over.”

“I have time.” Deirdre seemed to feel much the way he did, her face caught in an endless smile as she notably did not disagree with his classification of breakfast as a date. “This is a ‘by appointment only’ day. And I don’t have an appointment until late afternoon.”

“How was everything?” the server asked, appearing at their table.

“Great,” Archer said, looking up at them. “Thank you.”

Deirdre released his hand, reaching for the small padded folder as the server extended it. She tucked a card into the pocket at the top and handed it back.

“Thank you,” Archer said again. Deirdre winked at him. Sunlight trickled through the tree branches overhead, dappling Deirdre’s hair and making her eyes look especially blue. She drained the last of her tea as the server returned with her card and a receipt to sign.

They made their way out of the restaurant and turned right onto the tree-lined sidewalk. Archer extended his arm and found she was already reaching for him, their palms matching and fingers lacing together. He slowed his stride to account for her petite frame.

“This is okay, right?” He peered down at her. “Going for a walk? Is it safe for you, I mean?”

“This is great. Being sedentary is no better for me than anyone else.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t try to play a game of soccer or run a race, I don’t think. But walking is fine.”

Archer wished he could see her face. He let them walk in silence for the rest of the block, appreciating the fresh air and the feel of her hand in his. Finally, he asked: “Is it okay that I asked my brother about your condition?”

He felt rather than saw her startlement. “Is it okay? Yes, of course. Most people just look things up online, but you’ve got your brother for that. Do you have questions for me?” Deirdre, still gripping his hand, reached across her body with the other and took hold of his arm. The gesture pulled them closer together.

“I do, actually,” he chuckled ruefully. “I wanted very much to text you my questions, but I told myself to be patient.”

“What do you want to know?” She was still speaking in her careful and delicate way, evidently unperturbed by the conversation. He could feel her warmth beside him, and her hand, though small, felt solid in his. 

“Asa wondered if you had an implanted device. I keep trying to call it an IED. Or an IUD. But it’s—”

“An ICD,” she interrupted, laughing. “But no, I don’t have one.”

Archer frowned. Asa made it sound like it was important that she have one, that a patient actually experiencing symptoms from their LQTS was in quite a bit of danger. His brother also mentioned medications she might take, so Archer asked about them, trying to keep his worry from his voice. “Do you take medicine for it? Asa said you might.”

“A beta blocker.” She squeezed his hand, then asked carefully, “Are you worried?”

Archer didn’t know her well enough yet to read her tone. He slowed down and looked around them before spotting an empty bench. “Not worried, so much as… Ah. It’s probably not what you think. Could we sit for a minute?” He let all of his air out in an anxious rush. 

Deirdre consented, though her brows dipped slightly. She kept hold of his hand as they sat together, turned slightly toward each other. Cars drove past, and people walked behind them. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You were saying?”

“I’m making you nervous,” Archer said, feeling slightly horrified. “Deirdre—”

“I was just thinking that we were having a nice time and how much I wanted to see you again.” Her eyes looked almost purple in the shadow of a sapling.

“I want the same thing,” Archer said. He wanted to reassure her, his eyes roving over her face, trying to read the minutiae of her expressions. A little tension around her eyes, easing as she breathed, watching him in return. “And I thought if we were going to be spending time together, I ought to know about your heart condition. Just in case.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice quiet and her lips curling up into a smile. “Very pragmatic.”

“I know you live by yourself and run your own business. I wouldn’t want you to feel controlled or underestimated.” Archer looked down at their clasped hands, then up at Deirdre’s face. The tension he’d spotted around her eyes was gone. “We have a connection, I think. I just want to make sure I do everything I can if you ever need my help.”

“Do you have any life-threatening allergies?” Deirdre asked, surprising him.

“Allergies? Oh… ah, no, not that I’m aware of. Asa is allergic to bees. I know how to use his Epi-pen.”

“What about asthma? Seizures?”

“No. I’m very lucky,” he told her. He ran his thumb over her knuckles again. “I get an annual physical to satisfy Asa. My cholesterol is excellent.”

Deirdre smiled. The expression reached her eyes and made her face glow. “I’m good, aside from the arrhythmia.”

“Just that one little thing,” he said, raising his eyebrows and chuckling. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Her bottom lip was fuller than the top, and both lips looked like they would be soft and warm if he kissed her. When he kissed her. Perhaps not out here, however. The bench was uncomfortable, though the row of saplings was nice. There were too many people out and about, and a number of vehicles trundling up the one-way street. Perhaps when they got to her store, he could ask her—

Mew! A small, sweet sound from somewhere by Archer’s feet.

***

He was looking at her mouth again. Archer’s eyes were warm and dark, his own mouth pulled into a dreamy sort of smile. His hair slipped forward, curling against his temple and cheek.

Deirdre considered whether or not she should ask if she could kiss him now, or if she should wait until they got to her store. They could slip into the back for a few moments. She could make him tea, sit with him in the pleasant space she’d set up for her office. They could talk. Then she would come close to him and push his hair back and ask him—

Mew! A tiny voice, like a bell.

Deirdre looked for the source of the sound and spotted a little gray body threading itself between Archer’s feet. She released his hand and quickly bent over, nearly clocking her head against Archer’s as he did the same. He caught the kitten with one of his big hands, then gingerly handed it to her, leaning close.

“Hello, sweetling,” Deirdre crooned, cuddling the kitten against her abdomen and curling a finger underneath its chin. The kitten struggled briefly, then relaxed, and she felt a subtle vibration in its throat.

“It’s so small,” Archer murmured. He reached out and gently lifted the kitten’s back leg. “She’s so small.”

“Do you see any others? Sometimes when the little ones are loose like this, it means someone dumped a litter. I hope not.” Deidre kept the kitten cuddled close, watching as Archer stood and walked over to the entrance to a nearby alley. She glanced down at the kitten. “Or perhaps you were just smaller than your brothers and sisters and got separated. I know what that’s like.”

“I don’t know where she came from,” Archer said. He sat back down beside her and reached out carefully, scratching the kitten between her eyes with the tip of one of his long fingers. “She has your eyes. Blue. Almost purple.”

Deirdre laughed. “Does she?”

“Yes. Another similarity.” Archer looked up at her. “Your siblings are tall? I heard what you said.”

“Everyone in my family is tall but me,” she said, sighing. “I’m the runt.”

“That’s not the most flattering way to refer to someone who is petite,” Archer chastised gently.

“I know. Self-deprecation is a bad habit.”

His leg nudged hers. “In Regency era England, you’d have been called a ‘pocket Venus.’”

“A what?” Deirdre cocked an eyebrow at him. “Should I feel insulted?”

“Not at all. Possibly offended that I’m calling attention to your body.” He offered her a sideways grin that did something to her, low in her belly. “A ‘pocket Venus’ is a beautiful, petite woman with an hourglass figure.”

“That’s much nicer than ‘runt.’” Deirdre looked down at the kitten. “She’s falling asleep.”

“She seems very young. I’m sure she’s exhausted.”

“Do you think it would be wrong of me to keep her?” Deirdre felt a sharp pang in her chest. Not her syndrome, she didn’t think. Emotion. The idea of giving up this sweet creature in her lap pained her.

“Why would it be wrong?”

“She might already have a home…” Deirdre trailed off as Archer shook his head.

“I don’t think so. She’s tiny and needs a bath. I think that if you want her, you should take her with you. In fact…” Archer leaned back, looking further down the sidewalk. “Isn’t there some kind of pet boutique between here and your shop?”

“Yes. They should be open.” She looked up at Archer and nodded. “I’m keeping her. This is my cat. I’ll get her supplies for home and work. Hopefully she doesn’t mind the car…”

“What will you name her?”

“Fae.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take some of that off your hands?” Deirdre asked. She had the kitten cradled against her chest while she dug her keys out of the small bag she wore across her body.

“I’m fine. You’ve got your hands full of precious cargo.” Archer had a soft-sided cat carrier slung over his shoulder and carried bags with food, toys, bed, litter box, and small dishes inside. They’d already dropped another set of similar items off at Deirdre’s car. While they were there, she’d taken the crying kitten out of the carrier, whispering something in the kitten’s ear and holding her close.

Deirdre let them into her store and flipped on the lights before leading him toward the back. Archer registered a riot of plants and islands of color; the store appeared to be set up like a series of open-plan rooms. He followed Deirdre across the hardwood floor and past an attractive high top table and chairs. A few steps down to another locked door, and then she led him into a sunny office space with tall windows and another abundance of plants. A sofa lined the wall across from the windows. There was a small desk in the space, as well as a kitchenette and doors leading to a bathroom and the exterior.

“That’s why that interior door is so hefty. Makes it harder to smash the windows in the front or back and get to both the stock and my office. Just put everything on the sofa for now,” Deirdre directed, setting her purse on her desk. “Thank you so much for going shopping with me. I rarely make such impulsive decisions…”

“Your impulses have been saving lives,” Archer said, depositing the bags on the sofa as requested. “Mine, Fae’s… Maybe being impulsive isn’t so bad?”

Before she could answer, a chime pealed overhead. Deirdre sighed, then smiled. “A customer. Do you mind watching Fae?” She carefully detached one of the kitten’s claws from the front of her dress and held her out to Archer. He took the tiny, soft pouf into his hands, smiling involuntarily.

Archer watched Deirdre hurry through the office door, then looked down at the kitten in his hands. She was blinking sleepily and peering over his fingers, her diminutive tail lifting over her back. He cupped the kitten in his palm and scratched her between the ears. “Alright, little one. Let’s get you set up while Deirdre makes a sale.”

He attended to the task one-handed, finding a spot in the bathroom for the litter box and filling it with litter. He tucked the litter jug underneath the sink. Then he sat the shallow food and water bowls by the sofa after filling the water bowl at the sink. He sat the food and toys on Deirdre’s desk; the toys would need to have the tags cut off. The cat bed he tucked into a corner of the sofa. The bed was small and round, with a section of soft fabric curving over half of the bed to form a cave.

Archer leaned over the sofa, wondering if the kitten would tolerate the bed, or if she would hate the new scent and miss the warmth of her human companions. Experimentally, he gently deposited Fae into the bed, the corner of his mouth crooking as she stretched and yawned. Her little mouth opened, and she mewled at him. Then her attention caught on a fuzzy ball hanging from the mouth of the cave by a length of sisal. The kitten huddled, her little tail swishing back and forth. Then a paw reached up for the ball, tiny claws extending.

“…leave me be! GO!”

Deirdre’s voice, raised and carrying from the front of the store. Archer straightened, his eyes darting briefly to assure himself that the kitten remained occupied before he strode to the door.

“Deirdre, you need to come home.” Another woman’s voice, another woman who enunciated carefully like Deirdre. “This game you’re playing will kill you. Receive treatment and let us care for—”

“NO! I will never—” Deirdre’s voice dropped, and an unintelligible series of syllables escaped her. 

Archer stopped at the bottom of the steps, his eyes scanning the interior of the store. He spotted the customer first from behind, a tall woman with her hair swept up into a chignon and a plaid poncho around her shoulders. Deirdre faced her, standing slightly to the side. She looked distressed, her color high, and her hands curled into fists. “Deirdre? Is everything okay?”

The tall woman turned gracefully to face him, and Archer blinked in momentary confusion. The woman was very slim, her long-fingered hands slightly raised as she turned to face him. Her brows were thick like Deirdre’s, and her face closely resembled the smaller woman’s, though the features appeared thinner and more drawn out. The woman lowered her hands, gazing at Archer with open interest.

“This is my aunt, Foraoise.” Archer would have to ask Deirdre how to spell that name, which sounded like FOR-eesh. “She was just leaving.”

The woman nodded. “Deirdre, who is—”

“This is my friend Archer. And Archer and I have things to do, if you aren’t going to buy anything.” Deidre sounded fierce, but to Archer’s dismay, her eyes glistened.

Foraoise turned back to Deirdre. “Alright, child. I shouldn’t have come here and upset you. Please, lock the door behind me and take a moment to relax. Does he know about your condition?”

“Yes,” Deirdre replied, her voice low and flat. Then her tone softened. “He’s very good about it.”

“Then you’ve had more spells.”

“Foraoise—”

“I love you,” Foraoise said, though she followed that with a word Archer didn’t make out. “Please, take care of yourself.”

A few seconds passed, and Deirdre spoke softly. “I love you, too.”

The tall woman glanced over her shoulder at Archer, flashing him a quick smile even as he took in the worried lines between her brows. Then she was gone, striding with rapid grace from the store.

“I’ll be right there,” Deirdre murmured. He watched her lock the front door, then make her way to the back steps. She looked pale now, aside from a spot of color on each cheek.

Archer reached for her, his hands hovering a mere inch from her arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, as Deirdre descended to the step just above him. Her position put her closer to his face. He could kiss her simply by lowering his head, without having to bend so far over.

“Archer,” she said, her breath hitching.

“Deirdre?”

“May I kiss you?”

He answered her by dipping his head and covering her mouth with his own. The kiss began with softness, but then she inhaled audibly and her lips parted. Archer deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing just inside her bottom lip. She tasted vaguely sweet, like melon or honeyed tisane. His scalp and hands tingled, and he moved his body closer to hers, one hand sliding beneath her jacket to rest on her lower back, the other coming up to sink into the silk of her hair. Her delicate hands were on him; one pressed to his chest, the other curling around his nape.

Archer moved to rub her back in a big, slow circle, but when his fingers shifted upward, he encountered bare skin. The back of her dress was cut low, hidden by her jean jacket. He stroked her smooth skin, and Deirdre’s hand on his chest slid around to his back. Their bodies arched, pressing hard against each other, her breasts soft between them. The tingling sensation swept through his body before gathering in his groin, and he broke their kiss with a gasp, trailing a series of kisses up her jaw and then down her neck to soften the transition.

Deirdre breathed in short pants, her hands sliding up and down his back, over his shoulders, along his hips. “Archer…” Her voice came out a whisper.

Archer nuzzled beneath her ear. She smelled so nice, floral and herbal and sweet at the same time. He wanted to lick her skin there, nibble her earlobe. But he also knew they were moving fast. And she was technically at work. “Deirdre?”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. She leaned forward, pressing her face into his shirt. “I got so upset earlier, and I’m so sorry, but I think I should sit down.”

Archer shifted her in his arms, trying not to let worry drive him as she swayed on her feet. “Hey, don’t apologize. I’ll carry you to the sofa.” Before she could respond, he scooped her up, one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees. Deirdre let out a surprised huff of air, grabbing first at his shirt and then his shoulder, and Archer reflected that this sudden action was possibly the opposite of what he should have done. Glancing down at his feet to make certain he wasn’t about to step on Fae, Archer carried Dierdre into the office and deposited her carefully on the end of the sofa opposite the cat bed. 

“Where is she?” Dierdre asked, her voice thick.

Archer leaned over, squinting into the little cave. The kitten’s wee form was barely visible in the back. He reached in and gently plucked her up, then deposited the sleepily struggling ball of fur into Deirdre’s lap. “Here she is. She’s been very sleepy.”

“I’ll take her to a vet tomorrow.” Deirdre stroked the kitten and took a deep breath.

“How are you feeling?” Archer crouched in front of her, his hands on her knees. “Do I need to call 9-1-1, or Asa?”

“Neither.” Deirdre patted the sofa cushion next to her. She looked pale, but nothing like she had the night of the attempted mugging. “I had palpitations and felt lightheaded when Foraoise left. I should have sat then. But I wanted to kiss you.”

Archer rose and sat beside her, careful not to sit on the cat bed or jar Deirdre and the kitten. “So it wasn’t the kiss that caused you to feel unwell?”

“No.” She smiled up at him, her color already better and her hand moving slowly over the kitten’s soft fur. “I enjoyed our kiss.”

“Seeing your aunt stressed you out.”

“I love her, and she’s not a bad person at all. But yes, seeing her gave me quite the shock. We’re… estranged.” She sounded sad, and Archer found himself reaching out and running his knuckles down her cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, her hand lifting from Fae to reach up and rub the muscles in her neck. “My family worries about me. But they think that entitles them to make decisions about my life.”

“Here, let me do that.” Archer waited for her to lower her hand, then he slipped his own beneath her hair. He worked his fingers down the back of her neck, rubbing firmly as he sought out the knots and trigger points in the muscles. Deirdre closed her eyes. He saw her shoulders relax. 

He wanted to ask her more about her condition and why she was estranged from her family. Asa had made it clear to him that many people live symptom free with Long QT Syndrome. The patients his brother worried about were the ones reporting heart palpitations and fainting spells. This was, however, not the moment to bring it up. Archer cupped the back of her neck where he’d been rubbing, then leaned in to kiss her temple.

Deirdre tipped her head up toward him. “Kiss me again, Archer.”

Her eyes were pools, drawing him in. He could feel the energy flowing between them, an attraction like nothing he’d experienced before. A gnawing pain started in his stomach, a couple of inches below his sternum and just to the left. It was the spot that always hurt when he was anxious. Otherwise, his body was already responding to her, his limbs tingling and his muscles tightening. He felt alight with the painful knowledge of what he was getting into and the realization that he was going to get into it regardless.

Archer bent his head and kissed her.

--

Part Three

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Give My Madness Rein - a Magnus Archives Fanfic

The Archive saw all.

The Archive felt nothing.

Then the river dried up, the knowledge stopped, and the only thing that mattered was him.

“Say I am mad and give my madness rein to wreck itself; the worst that can befall Is but to die an honorable death.” —Sophocles

Spoilers for the whole show. This is post-MAG 200.

Part one of the Magnus Monsterverse AU.

AO3

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

They saw all.

Everything that was.

Everything that had been, stored in memory and revisited.

Nothing that would be, for that was Future, and Uncertain, and It did not like Uncertain things.

It, however, did not care. It couldn’t.

And then, for no reason, They saw nothing, nothing at all.

Something had come between It and It.

As the river that was knowing dried, a hollowness of need and hunger and pain rushed into its place.

It did not know that It was screaming until It had reason to stop.

#

It stopped because It could see the eyes.

Green eyes, flecked with brown, framed with red-gold lashes. Eyes It knew, eyes that felt like—

“It’s really Jon?” said the owner of the eyes.

(Jon, Hebrew, derivative of Jonathan, meaning God has given, first recorded in the Torah. Notable Jons through history include Adkins, baseball player; Anderson, musician; Cuishaw, comedian; Davidson—)

“Yeah,” said someone else, someone familiar who did not matter. “Gotta clean him off—eons of muck all over—but it’s him.”

“But he doesn’t know me,” said the owner of the eyes, voice suddenly hoarse and tight. (Tension dysphonia, evidenced as incoordination of the vocal control system, which can be caused by stress and anxiety—) “He doesn’t know me!”

“Told you he wouldn’t right away.”

All that mattered was the owner of those eyes. It did not care who else was speaking, and that made Them of two minds.

It wanted to look at the other person, too, and see as much as It could.

It did not want to look away from the eyes.

It needed the gap filled, the hollowness no longer emptied, knowledge and dreams and fears in a river.

It chose to continue looking at the eyes and nowhere else. Home safe settled still—

The eyes grew wet. (Lacrimation, an abnormal or excessive secretion of tears due to local or systemic disease or emotional distress—)

And then the eyes turned away.

Screaming took their place.

#

It screamed.

(Lost aching empty)

(Big hungry dark adrift)

No up, no down, no ground. It screamed.

Until the eyes came back, and then It was able to stop.

#

“Really?” said the owner of the eyes. “The whole time?”

“Yep. Whatever was done to his physiognomy, we can’t put him under. It just doesn’t stop—unless you’re here.”

The owner of the eyes said, “I need a minute,” and left. (Slammed the door, which is a common symptom of psychological distress or emotional hijacking, communicating anger or a need to close one off from whatever caused the outburst—)

It had felt nothing for so long that this new emotion was not easy to identify, but It thought this might be “heartbreak.” (Stress cardiomyopathy, also called broken heart syndrome, often brought on by stressful situations and extreme emotions—)

It did not like the ache, but had no recourse. To bring the eyes back was doing. That was planning.

It did not do those things.

But It used to. Did It not?

This was… a memory of Its own, not through the churning mind of another. It used to plan.

The eyes returned, and the question of planning ceased to matter. “Sorry.”

“For crying out loud, did you have to slam the door? You woke up Agnes,” said the one-who-did-not-matter (and It grew vaguely aware of another sound elsewhere, muffled, like crying and crackling fire, but that did not matter either because the eyes were here).

“Sorry,” said the eyes again.

“I swear, you’re either Martin the Invisible or Martin the Big Stomping Elephant.”

“Very funny. And wouldn’t some kind of whale be more appropriate?”

Martin.

“No, because they don’t have gills.”

Martin?

“Point,” said Martin.

(Beeping annoying unimportant background—)

“Wait, what’s happening? What’s going on?”

“Oh, hell. Step back. There’s activity. The monitors—”

Martin!

“Activity? What does that mean?”

“It means he’s getting really upset and accessing his powers, and we can’t do a damn thing to stop him. Step back!”

(Martin Blackwood, no middle name, K does not mean Kartin, poet, marked by the Lonely, marked by the Eye, four inches taller than—)

Than

(Than what?)

Than

They remembered. 

Martin was dead.

Vaguely, It was aware that It screamed, and that Its scream did harm, and the owner of the eyes cried out.

(“Fucking powers!” cried the one-who-did-not-matter.)

Sparking and cracking sounds, bad sounds and shouting. (Beeping, unknown, electronic in origin, possibly an alarm signifying a system of biological or mechanical nature no longer working as intended—)

Martin cried out, and It responded to Martin’s cry, because harming Martin was the worst thing that could ever be.

Stopped. Stopped screaming. Fell silent, gasping, choking it in.

And time slipped, lost.

#

“—understand what just happened!” Martin’s voice. (Martin: Latin, meaning warrior of Mars, dedicated to Mars, given to the god of war—)

“He recognized you. I knew he would, but not this quickly.”

Martin was dead.

“Recognized me? Look, I’ve never met this fucking thing before!”

“Nice. I’m sure that won’t come back to bite you.”

Martin was dead.

“Sash, for fuck’s sake…”

Pain.

(I’ve never met this fucking thing before—)

Rejection?

It knew rejection.

It did not acknowledge rejection.

It knew rejection, and knew it well. It hurt.

“What did you want me to say, then?” said Martin. “After everything we did to get him back—”

“What? You thought he’d just wake up and know you at once? After floating as the Pupil for centuries?” The one-who-did-not-matter sighed. “It takes time. It took you time.”

“I need him so much. I don’t know if I can wait. I… I’ve waited already. I don’t know if I can...”

Gentler. “I know you don’t mean that.”

Martin sighed. “You’re right. I don’t.”

(Choked. Kept it in. Did not scream. Must not hurt him—)

“What if we were too late, huh? What if there’s nothing left?”

“If there wasn’t, he wouldn’t give a damn what your name was.”

Martin.

“I need a minute,” Martin said, and walked away again.

Slammed the door again.

Rejection.

The eyes.

The voice.

Martin.

But Martin was dead.

Its eyes rolled back in Its head (all of them all of the eyes) and everything went dark.

#

“Jon. Please wake up. I’m sorry. Please wake up.”

The eyes.

The voice.

Him.

It wanted to speak. To say Martin’s name. It moved Its tongue to find only eyes.

“He’s responding,” said the one-who-did-not-matter. “Keep it up.”

“Hi, Jon,” said Martin, said the anchor-the-one-who-mattered (but Martin was dead). “I’m here. I’m here.”

It cried because it could not say his name.

It did not understand.

It needed to say his name.

It only needed to know his name.

It needed—

Opened mouth throat thought tongue, past eyes, past shapes, past things that only saw and did not speak.

“Why is he crying?” said Martin.

“I don’t know, but it’s a good sign. A display of human emotion is a hell of a lot more important than why he’s doing it.”

“I don’t like this,” said Martin.

Had to say the name. “Martin.”

“Oh!” said the other person-who-did-not-matter. “Did you hear that? Did I have a stroke? Did he say it?”

“He said it,” whispered Martin.

It hurt. This was too much, hurt too much. Like peeling open Itself, reaching in, taking out everything.

The green eyes, there. Just there. Here.

Martin was de-

It knew that was wrong. Martin was alive.

It knew this was not wrong. Martin was dead.

It did not care what It knew, what was wrong, whether this fact mattered or could be recalled. “Martin.”

“Yes, Jon, it’s me.”

The strain—

It could not accept the untruth.

It needed the untruth.

Its eyes rolled back again into the dark.

#

“Easy.”

Martin.

Martin’s voice.

Martin. Hand on his face. (Face? It had a face? It… I… I had a face?)

But Martin was—

“I’m here. It’s okay. Hey… hey, look at me, would you?”

It did, with all of Itself. I did. With… all of… It… I… me.

Martin shuddered, seen, stripped, beheld.

(Martin.)

“Easy,” said Martin, voice shaky, as the beep of monitors dinged confusingly, like multiple hearts.

It could—I could—only see him.

His eyes. Here. Now. His hair, touched with white like frost. His smile, hopeful, trembling. His tears.

Martin.

“But you died,” came from my throat, and I almost went away again.

Wanted to, to disassociate, to… (A disconnection between a person’s thoughts, memories, feelings, actions or sense of who they are—)

“No, Jon,” said Martin, tight. “You did.”

“I did?”

It disagreed. I had not died. He had.

A gasp. The other person who-did-not-matter. “He asked?”

“You’re asking questions.” Martin wiped his eyes. “You’re really in there. You aren’t gone.”

I was shaking. It sh… I shook. “No,” I said. “I remember. You died. We… he went for you. Trevor Herbert. I was wrong. He went for you, and he shot you. You died. And I—”

“It’s okay,” Martin said, but it wasn’t.

“I gave myself to It because I could not—”

“It’s okay!”

Nothing was okay. “I screamed!” I said, unable to look away from him, unwilling to even blink. “I screamed, but it didn’t bring you back. That’s the last thing I recall as… myself. And now, I screamed here, too—the first thing I recall, finding myself. You must have had me, all along.”

I didn’t even know what I was saying.

Martin sniffled. Tears slid down his cheeks (and I remembered those cheeks, remembered them against my lips, remembered his scent, remembered his sweet stubble). “You’re in there. She was right. You’re in there.”

“Told you,” said the one-who-did-not-matter (though I knew her voice, and that was strange).

“You died,” I said, and the words stuck in my throat.

“No. We made it to the Panopticon. And I had to kill you there.”

“What?” I said, because that had not happened. “I ring like a bell,” I said then, because every word I spoke echoed in me.

“Easy,” said the other voice. “Keep breathing.”

Suddenly, I knew her. “Sasha?”

“Hey.” She came into view.

And it was her. It really was her. Just a few years older, a pinch more gray at her temples, but alive. “Hi, Jon,” she said, her crooked smile, her slightly uneven teeth, her eyes big and brown behind her glasses.

“You aren’t not-Sasha,” I told her.

“Right,” she said. “In my timeline, I didn’t go into Artefact Storage. It didn’t get me. It got Tim.”

“Tim?” I said.

“He’s alive here,” said Martin. “In his timeline, he didn’t blow up the museum. Daisy did.”

“Tim is alive?” (tension dysphonia). I was so confused, and there was such a beauty to it; to being confused, to not knowing, a sweet and magnificent ache that I didn’t know I missed until this moment. “How?”

“Oh, we were a nexus, or something,” said Sasha. “Everybody there was basically a chosen one, you know? So we all got our chance.” Her voice dropped, bitter. “And we all blew it. Ended the world. Go, us.”

“What?” I said.

“It’s okay,” said Martin. “You’ve got time. You don’t have to understand it yet.”

Martin was alive, and I laughed.

Sasha looked startled.

Martin smiled. “Something funny?”

“Yes! Yes, I…” I didn’t even remember reaching, grabbing, closing the eyes on my hands and my arms so I could pull him close, and he sat on the bed with me, letting me pull him close. “We’re here, and…we’re alive, and… it’s too ridiculous, and…”

“Jon,” whispered Martin.

“You know what? How about I give you guys a minute?” said Sasha. “If anything on these monitors changes…”

“I’ll get you,” he said, thick, not taking his eyes from me.

I couldn’t see properly. The room was a fuzzy white, too bright, sterile. But I could see Martin. “How is this possible?”

“Leitner,” he said.

“Leitner?” And I kissed Martin, because Leitner could go to hell. I remembered Martin. His lips. His teeth. His chin, the way it bumped against mine. “If I close my eyes, you might go away again,” I said against his perfect mouth.

“I won’t,�� he said. “I’ll never. You’re really you,” he said, his hand in my hair, and he sobbed.

My body ached, felt weird; most of my eyes were closed. “How?” I said again, because I had to know.

“Would you believe there’s one universe where Leitner wasn’t an ass?” said Martin, and laughed.

I laughed, too. I remembered how to do it so easily now. “I do not believe that.”

“I mean, he still fucked it up. We all did. All of us here, our universes ended. All of—”

“Then you’re not my Martin?” I said, interrupting him.

He stroked my hair. “I am. I mean. I’m the one you knew. We just… we all branched off. We—our group, in the Archives—we were the breaking point.”

“Breaking point?” I kissed him again. Same taste. Same scent. Same—

He had a tiny scar on his cheek that he didn’t before. A little notch, barely visible.

He let me touch it, and didn’t flinch away. “Got that when the Panopticon fell.”

Was I crying? I was crying. “I made you kill me?” Because of course, it had to be something I did. He wouldn't have just done it.

He swallowed.

“What did I do? You still won’t go away?”

“Never. Where you go, I go.”

“Even though you had to kill me?” I could barely hear my own words.

“I had to,” he whispered. “To stop the Eye. But it ended everything. I was in… I was in some kind of endless sea for… I don’t know how long.”

He still wanted to be near me after that?

I couldn’t comprehend it. Or what I must have done. Or how he could forgive. “But how am I here? I’m not killed,” I said, because I had to know.

Martin’s smile. Patient. Longsuffering. Fond. Knowing me. (I was known.) “Leitner and Manuela, who… isn’t awful? She’s an impossible physicist. Into wormholes. Alternate universes. Anyway, Leitner’s trying to make up for what he did by rescuing remnants. Us. Leftovers from universes that died because of our little group. It’s a mess.”

It had been so long since I felt anything, and now I felt too much. “He is? Why?”

“Guilt. He fucked up, and he felt shitty, and this is how he decided to atone.”

“By kidnapping people?” I blurted, feeling stupid, trying to make it make sense.

Martin laughed. “I missed you so much,” and then he was holding me, and it was so tight, and it was him, and that was his heart, and this was my Martin, and I—

Martin was dead.

So maybe I’d gone crazy.

Maybe the Eye did too much to me, and I was still in the world the Eye made, floating, mind snapped like dry wood, imagining things.

If it was, if I’d really lost it, and this wasn’t happening… I didn’t care.

“I want this,” I told him, clutching, keeping all my extra eyes closed. “I need you.”

“I know.”

“I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I got you killed.”

He looked so pale. “Jon… it wasn’t your fault. I know that, now,” he said to me, and I knew (knew, which I didn’t want to do anymore, but apparently, that still happened) I was forgiven.

And then I cried, and it was good, and painful, and human, and I let it come and didn’t try to stop it because that was a thing I’d forgotten how to do and finally remembered.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered again.

And my fingers dug into his back, and he kissed my jaw.

“I’ve got you, Jon,” he said, and I knew he meant it.

(But I’ve never met this fucking—)

Erased. He no longer thought that. And even if he did, I no longer cared.

If this was the lie, I would live it.

It was not happy.

I did not care. “I have too many eyes.”

Martin laughed. “Um. Ask me about gills sometime.”

“What?”

He laughed again, and his cheeks went red, and his eyes were shiny, but not from sorrow.

I pulled him down to the bed, on top of me like a heavy, hot blanket. “I want to know about gills.”

“I promise I’ll tell you all of everything,” Martin said, and settled, his breath against my neck.

I held him.

He held me.

He went to sleep like that, on me, like he hadn’t slept in twenty years, breathing just under my ear.

I still could not sleep, but that didn’t matter. Only one thing did: him.

Sasha came to check, smiled to find him unconscious, and left us alone.

I didn’t understand what happened. Not really. Not yet. Eventually, I would. It didn’t matter.

Martin was d

I could not live with that truth anymore.

Martin was not dead. He was here. And so was I. (And maybe Martin needed that untruth, too, if he’d had to kill me.)

I closed all my eyes, and ignored Its complaints, and held my Martin.

If this was madness, it was also my joy, and I would wrap it around my heart and engrave it on my bones and sear it in the backs of all of my eyes.

If this was madness, it was mine, and I would never let it go.

-----

Notes:

So in case it wasn't clear: There was ONE universe where Leitner was not a complete asshole, but was trying to run around sort of... Gertruding his way through life, being a "good" guy. He blew it, and his universe died. But not before he could connect with Manuela, who, instead of a Dark Sun, was working on wormholes. They got out. He felt bad. He discovered that there were numerous universes like his thanks to group of people going back about forty years, all of whom were somehow connected. They also all managed to end the world like he did - in flame, or darkness, or any number of things. He felt bad. One thing led to another, and... it's puppy-rescue time. What will happen with them all back together in one place? Nobody knows! No one is the same. They've all been changed. Most are monsters. But Martin is alive, and to at least one person, that's the only thing that matters.

[fandomficsnstuff]

Lies

(Warnings: ANGST, angst and what’s this? Some fluffy angst?:3 And then some angsty angst again)

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

It was awkward in the bus, the question hanging in the air and Daisy shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Maggie and Glenn before looking out the window, the silence and unspoken questions practically suffocating her after Eugene’s response to Glenn’s question about how he’d save the world, something about using whatever made the dead walk again, fighting ‘fire with fire’, as Eugene had put it.

“I don’t know how or why” she suddenly spoke, having had enough of the thick silence, feeling like it made it impossible for her to breathe. “I don’t know… I was scratched behind my ear at the beginning. My mom was strung out again with some-... creepy guy, so I left, going to my dad and uncle’s place, except my dad was too busy to give a damn about me… so my uncle took me to this small store nearby to buy some ice cream because my birthday was the next day and my mom hadn’t done anything to prepare… no one was there when we called so we were about to leave when I saw the store owner in the back room… dead… like-... someone had robbed him… a safe was open and he was bleeding from his chest and I thought he was dead until he groaned and moved a little… I ran to him to-... I don’t know… help? And he grabbed my hair… my uncle picked me up and ran with me but he scratched me behind my ear… the second time was back at the farm,” Daisy admitted, glancing at Maggie before looking back out the window “it was overrun and I got separated from the others… I crawled up a tree to get away from the walkers but I guess one of them must have scratched me” she muttered, her hand coming up to scratch behind her ear, as she always did when she was uncomfortable, a nervous habit that she was barely aware of. “I didn’t get sick… I didn’t-... I don’t know why, I just-... then everyone at the prison got sick… almost everyone died, uncle Glenn nearly died… but I just-... didn’t get that sick for some reason… Hershel and Maggie told me I stopped breathing for a while but uncle Glenn helped me and I began to breathe again…” she admitted nervously, looking back at the others, Abraham looking in the rearview mirror at her while the others were turned to look at her, making her feel small under their stares, except for Maggie and Glenn, they didn’t stare, thankfully. Tara stared at her, though, but for another reason, looking down with a sad look in her eyes, feeling some sympathy for the young girl. “I just-... I-I haven’t been bit. I don’t know if that’ll be different from a scratch but-... scratches don’t do anything to me, so far… Bob said I’m something called asymptomatic, and since the fever is a symptom of whatever this-... thing is… and I don’t show any symptoms, I don’t die from them… at least, that’s how he explained it… I don’t quite get it though, but I don’t suppose I have to get it…” she admitted, Maggie and Glenn giving her a comforting smile before looking at the others, their hard glares making them finally look away, Daisy letting out a tiny, quiet sigh of relief. “It’s okay, pie. Everything’s gonna be okay” Maggie comforted, Daisy scoffing a little as she turned to look out the window “except my uncle is going to kill me” she muttered, Maggie chuckling a little as Glenn scoffed with amusement. “I think he’ll understand once you’ve helped save the world” Maggie said with a smirk, Daisy scoffing with amusement, unable to hide her smile “before or after he kills me?” she asked jokingly, Glenn smirking a little, shaking his head “probably after” he joked back, looking over his shoulder at her, making her grin with amusement before looking back out the window.

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

Daisy was quiet as she walked over to Maggie, hesitating as she glanced nervously at Glenn,  Maggie looking up at Daisy with a smile. “Hey there, pie” she said with a smile, her smile slowly fading when she saw how uneasy Daisy was, a frown forming on her brows “what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“C-Could you-... I-I think-... I think that-...” she continued to sigh as she cut herself off, glancing nervously at a bookcase in the far back of the little library and Maggie studied her before getting up, walking behind the bookcase with Daisy. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Are you hurt from the bus crash?”

“I-I don’t know…”

“Well, are you bleedin’?”

“Yes…”

“Where?” Maggie asked with worry, noticing how Daisy shifted a little with unease, Maggie studying her body and when she found no wounds, her face softened in realization “oh…” she muttered, noticing how Daisy began to fidget even more but she couldn’t stop the smile from reaching her lips “it’s alright-”

“I’m bleeding! How is that alright?!”

“It’s alright, it’s normal-”

“NORMAL?!? I’M BLEEDING OUT!” she hissed loudly, Maggie chuckling lightly, though she tried to stop herself “I’m sorry, it ain’t funny, I just-... it’s okay, pie… did your mom ever talk to you about-.. growing up?” Maggie asked carefully, Daisy frowning at her with utter confusion “growing up?”

“Yeah… like-… becoming a woman…”

“I’m not a woman, I’m almost thirteen!... or twelve… I don’t remember” she whispered harshly and then mumbled her afterthoughts about her age, Maggie giving her a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on her shoulder with a small sigh “it’s okay, every girl and woman go through this. Did your mom really never have any kind of talk with you?”

“She just got high…” Daisy admitted nervously, Maggie sighing softly, nodding to herself “alright. Does it hurt? Right below your stomach?” Daisy nodded and Maggie nodded in return “alright. That’s probably cramps. It happens, alright? Does it hurt really bad?” Daisy shook her head and Maggie smiled “that’s good. That’s really good. This is called a period. I go through it once every month, so does Sasha, Rosita, Tara, all women go through it, it’s completely normal and you’re just fine. It usually lasts a week or so-”

“So-... w-what do you do?... You said it happens to you, too…” Daisy asked nervously and Maggie sighed “I make do with what I can, just like them… normally there’s different kinds of products… your mom really never told you about this?” Maggie asked with a frown, Daisy looking down, almost ashamed and Maggie sighed, nodding to herself “it’s alright-”

“NO IT’S NOT, I’M DYING!” she exclaimed, Glenn hurrying over with concern “are you okay? Was it the crash?” he asked hastily, Daisy looking away with burning cheeks so he turned to Maggie who couldn’t hold back her grin “no, it’s not the crash…”

“But, she said-... what?” he asked cluelessly and Maggie hesitated, looking at Daisy before looking back at Glenn “it’s alright, I got it” she assured him, Glenn hesitating before nodding, leaving once more and Daisy looked back at Maggie “it hurts and I feel weird and I’m bleeding from-... there shouldn’t be blood where-... it’s-... no! No blood should be-... there” she hissed quietly, Maggie nodding, trying to stop grinning as it seemed to only make it worse for Daisy. “It’s alright. Listen, I’ll look around for something and some new pants tomorrow, alright? We saw a clothing store not too far away and you and I will go there in the mornin’, think you can hold out ‘till then?” she asked with a small smile and Daisy hesitated before nodding “it hurts” she admitted, Maggie nodding with a small sigh “it does-”

“And it’s uncomfortable…”

“It is.”

“And it’s-... weird…”

“Yeah, it is, but you get used to it and it won’t be as bad as the first time.”

“S-So-... w-what do I do now?”

“I-I don’t know, can you hold out ‘till tomorrow?” Maggie asked with a small wince, Daisy hesitating before nodding with a grimace, Maggie nodding “alright then. Try and get some sleep, alright? You took a real bang to the head in that crash.”

“I’m fine.”

“Still. Get some sleep, alright?” Maggie asked with an affectionate smile, Daisy studying her before nodding with a small smile, going back to where she had set up to sleep, Maggie watching her with a fond smile.

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

“What about these?” Maggie asked, holding up a pair of jeans, Daisy studying them before shrugging lightly “I guess…” she muttered, Maggie studying her before walking over, sighing “well, we got a whole store to ourselves, you don’t have to wear those jeans if you don’t want to” she stated softly, Daisy fiddling nervously with the hem of a dress on a rack, studying it as she hummed. It was a sweet summer dress that would reach her knees at the right length, the top of the dress was a sweetheart neckline with half-sleeves that’d reach a little above her elbows, the bottom skirt loose and not tight fitting, it’s color a cute but slightly dark navy with what appeared to be some sort of soft material that shone a little when the fabric was moved. “You like that one?” Maggie asked with a smirk, Daisy studying it some more before shrugging again, making Maggie smile “what size are you?”

“I don’t know… uncle Daryl always just-... found things… last year he gave me a new knife as a birthday present” she admitted with a small smile, Maggie smiling a little as well “right, I remember the last one breakin’.”

“It was really old… and the handle wasn’t in good shape anyway… he found me a hunting one, you know, with the small curved tip?” she asked with a smile, looking up at Maggie who smiled and nodded “I remember” she stated, looking around the store before sighing. “Alright, spin around” she ordered softly, Daisy turning her back to her and Maggie checked the back of her shirt, noting the size before doing the same with the pants, nodding to herself as Daisy turned back around “alright, it says here that it’s a size sixteen in both shirts and pants but they’re saggin’ on you, I think you’re a size ten. Why don’t you go look over in that section? I’ll look here for somethin’” she said softly, Daisy nodding, giving the dress one last longing look before leaving for the other end of the store. Maggie made sure Daisy was turned away before looking through the dresses, grinning when she found a size ten, just as Glenn walked over “hey, I got the bag from Eugene, are you two almost don-”

“Give me your bag.”

“What-”

“Your bag, Glenn, come on” she whispered with a grin, Glenn taking the black duffle bag off of his shoulder, putting it on the ground and opening it, Maggie stuffing the dress in with a big grin, Glenn frowning at it “a dress?-”

“Shh! Daisy liked it so much, and you and I both know she’d never pick it herself” Maggie whispered, Glenn studying her as she quickly zipped up the bag, making sure Daisy hadn’t seen it before looking back at Glenn, halting when he just stared at her. “What?” she asked with a grin, Glenn just smiling as he leaned closer, kissing her softly, once, twice, before leaning back again “nothing, just-... nothing” he gently shook his head and she laughed quietly “what? She’ll need something to wear after she saves the world, won’t she?” Maggie asked, Glenn nodding, still smiling at her with utter adoration “yeah…” he mumbled, watching Maggie look around almost desperately, hurriedly getting up and running to the small shoe area of the store, looking through the shoes left behind before finding a pair, opening the box and taking them out before hurrying back to him, stuffing the shoes into the bag as well, glancing around and finding some ash gray colored leggings that’d reach her ankles and she quickly found the right size and stuffed them into the bag as well, the small moment interrupted by Daisy calling for Maggie. Maggie kissed Glenn quickly before jogging over to Daisy, Glenn watching the two as he put the strap of the duffle bag back over his shoulder, just watching the two as they held up different kinds of pants and jeans, talking amongst themselves as Glenn watched with utter adoration and love. It wasn’t long until Rosita showed up with Eugene, gesturing behind her at Abraham who waited in the fire truck “are you guys done?” she called, Glenn handing the bag back to Eugene, Maggie emerging from the back of the store with Daisy, a fresh pair of blue jeans on her and now when they all saw her in clothes that were actually her size, it had been obvious the clothes before had been too big, the belt seemingly having been the only thing holding up her pants but it was understandable, no one had time to go on a shopping spree to pick out a new outfit these days. Which is probably why Maggie had enjoyed the brief time so much with Daisy. “They’re nice” Glenn commented with a genuine smile, Maggie grinning at him before nodding “they are. You look great” she said, smiling at Daisy before gesturing out of the store “c’mon” she guided Daisy outside to the fire truck, the others following. Just as they’d gotten up in it and rolled out a little, the truck stopped, Daisy frowning at Maggie and Glenn before exiting the truck with them, Daisy looking around, her hand on her gun as Abraham began to cuss, trying to clear what was apparently the radiator instead of the ventilation, which was apparently on top of the truck.

Daisy frowned, stepping aside as a tire came rolling out of a door that the truck had been in front of, the others turning at the sound and sight of the tire as well. Soon a stack of tires tumbled out of the door, walkers following and instantly Daisy quickly put her gun away and took out her knife, ready, except she was pulled back roughly as Abraham sprung forward. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she glared at Abraham, her chest heaving up and down in anger before plunging her knife into a walker’s head as they started to come from behind as well, Glenn helping her until a jet stream of water hosed them all down, Daisy backing up against the truck with Glenn to not get hit by the water, not that it’d stop her from getting wet, that ship was already sunken to the bottom of the ocean, at least it looked like it from how soaked Daisy was. As Abraham made some form of joke he made the mistake of walking in Daisy’s direction and the second he turned to look at her, her fist collided with his cheek, actually managing to make him stumble back a little despite the massive height and size difference. “I don’t need rescuing!! I’ve made it for three years in this SHIT of a world without you and I don’t need your protection. Don’t you EVER do that again!” she snapped loudly, glaring at him with utter anger before sighing heavily, trying to calm herself down, shaking her hand as though it’d make the pain she felt in her knuckles better as she walked off a little, pacing ever so slightly. “She’s right. Don’t do that again” Maggie stated quietly but sternly, walking over to Daisy, taking her hand, inspecting her knuckles before smiling at her, saying something the others couldn’t hear, probably just that her hand was okay. Daisy glared at a shocked Abraham, Glenn hesitating before awkwardly clearing his throat “she, uh… she doesn’t like to be rescued… certainly not by strangers… she might be immune, but she’s not helpless” Glenn said quietly.

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

The path ahead to Washington was blocked by the biggest herd Daisy had ever seen, the smell of rotting meat and death carried by the wind. There was no way, even with a fire truck, that they’d get through that herd, it must have been hundreds, if not more. She was so wrapped up in trying to mentally count the herd, even though it would be impossible, that she hadn’t noticed Abraham striding towards her, intent on getting through that herd and getting to Washington, to complete the ‘mission’ as he called it, to save the world. She had struggled when Abraham had gripped her arm,Daisy stared at Eugene with wide eyes, her arm still in Abraham’s hand but she wasn’t even aware of it any longer, she wasn’t aware of the dull pain she felt from how tightly his hand was wrapped around her arm, the pain in her shoulder from Glenn, Maggie and Tara, trying to make him let go as he stormed back to the fire truck with Eugene in the other hand. She didn’t notice any of it. It faded. It wasn’t real anymore. What was real was this; Eugene wasn’t a scientist. He wasn’t a scientist, he couldn’t change this. And worst of all; she left her family for him. For the promise of a cure to all of this. She left her family for it, for that promise. She had Glenn and Maggie, of course, but she left her family for him and his lies. As everyone stared at him, Abraham slowly let go of Daisy, all of them in some sort of trance or shocked state, Daisy felt like she couldn’t do anything but stare, even as he talked, trying to make up excuses, that he was just trying to keep himself alive by seeming valuable… even as they all said something, one thing or another, she couldn’t hear it. She just couldn’t. It wasn’t audible to her, not even when Abraham began to beat Eugene until he fell down, not even when Maggie and Rosita hurried to check on him. She felt… empty… the promise of a cure, an end to all of this… it felt like what she felt when she lost her dad. Merle was a shit dad, but still her dad, and what he did at the end was for her, as misguided as it was, it was still for her. And now this was a lie. The cure was a lie. Everything was a lie and she left her family for it. She, Maggie and Glenn left their family for it. “Daisy? Are you okay? Are you-” Glenn cut himself off as Daisy just walked past him, eyes on the ground in shock as she got up into the truck, leaving the door open as she sat down, just staring at the floor of the fire truck, Maggie sighing softly as she looked at Glenn who nodded “I know, just-... give her time…” he stated softly.

After Glenn, Rosita and Tara left, Maggie took a look at an unconscious Eugene, studying him before getting the ladder from the back of the truck, setting it up, about to go find a blanket to give him some shade when Daisy stood there with a blanket in her arms, her eyes locked on Eugene. Slowly, tears formed in her eyes, trailing down her cheeks as she just looked at him with the blanket in her arms. “I thought-” she stopped herself, frowning as she continued to just... stare at him. “I thought that-... maybe-... maybe this was for something… you know? That maybe this was-... there was a reason and this was it… this was why everything happened. This is how things were supposed to be… we were going to Washington and save the world as-... as stupid as that sounds… and then our family - the rest of us - would join us…” she admitted quietly, tears still silently rolling down her cheeks as she just stared at him. “Maybe-... maybe there had been a reason for everything we’ve seen and done and-... everything would be okay, you know? Everything would-... we’d be safe… Carl and Judith would be safe and so would Rick. My uncle would be safe. You and Glenn would be safe. Our family would be safe, but-...” she cut herself off again, Maggie walking over, taking the blanket from her, putting it over the ladder she’d set up to give Eugene some shade before walking back to Daisy, pulling her into a tight hug and that’s when the dam broke and she began to sob, clinging tightly to Maggie as she cried, Maggie sighing softly as she held her, placing a hand on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair as she comforted her. “I know, pie… I know” she whispered, kissing the top of her auburn hair, resting her cheek against it afterwards as Daisy continued to cry in her arms.

[sometimesrosy]

Hey Rosy, I did a mistake at work and while it hasn’t ended badly (yet), I don’t know how to handle the feeling of guilt. I work as a receptionist at a vet clinic and someone came to ask for medication for their cat and, as they described the symptoms, I didn’t realize it was an emergency. I’m not trained in any type of medical field, just to add some context. I told the client we can’t give medication without seeing the animal, but that it should definitely be looked at by a doctor given to what he was telling me. I didn’t realize it was an emergency and we were full, so I scheduled him for monday (we’re closed on saturday’s afternoon and sunday all day). It wasn’t his intention to bring the cat in anyway, he went to ask for medication. I know it’s not an excuse, just some context! It’s almost 11pm when my boss sends a message to the clinic group, saying that if it’s a cat it’s bad that it’s left to just monday. She explained why it’s an emergency and I suggested we should call the owner even if at such an awkward hour. She wanted me to do it, which I would because I was dying of worry, but I wouldn’t be able to explain the situation better as I don’t have extensive knowledge, CLEARLY. She ended up calling herself and talking to the owner, explaining he should go to the ER if x or y happened (meaning it wasn’t thaaat urgent? I don’t know). So, it’s sort of fixed, the owner knows what to do, but I’m not being able to deal with how I’m feeling. I’m not trying to erase my guilt, I’m just dwelling and dwelling on it and will be for days until I know the cat is fine or got proper treatment, so I’m trying to find ways to deal with my anxiety. What can I do to calm myself? I’m sorry for basically trauma-dumping you, it’s just that you always have amazing tips and techniques to deal with stress and some might help here. Thank you.

PS. The man did NOT go with the cat then. If he had, I would have asked the doctor and say there was an unscheduled appointment and it would be checked. The owner went there by himself, just to get medication and we ended up scheduling the appointment.

+++

Ugh that's horrible.

I'm so sorry for everyone involved. I'm sure you won't be making that mistake again, but there's no way you could have known it needed to be treated as an emergency. You simply weren't trained to have that knowledge.

I'm assuming they don't want you running up to the vets for every client especially when you already know that you can't give medication without seeing the animal.

How do you deal with the guilt and stress? By making sure you don't make the same mistake again, and realizing that you weren't trained to make that kind of call on your own. Maybe talk to the vets and have them teach you when the situations are an emergency and when they're a 'wait until monday' situation.

You simply cannot go back in time and make a different choice. You don't have a time machine. So you can only take this as a learning opportunity. I'm guessing you don't have a whole lot of experience at that position or you'd probably already have known it was an emergency. There's only two ways you would have known. Training or experience. You scheduled an appointment for him, which is your job.

You can't be expected to be a vet and make those calls. I don't think the vets expect you to have known it was an emergency. But you're expecting yourself to have knowledge and experience you simply don't have.

There's a learning curve to any job, and it just so happens that the consequences of mistakes are bigger in some fields than in others.

I think if I were you I'd talk to the vets at your job and see if there's anything you can do or learn to keep that from happening again. How can you know when things are an emergency. Is there a list of symptoms you should be aware of? Perhaps certain concerns you should call someone else in to evaluate? Because you followed the procedure you were given... it just didn't take into account any possible emergencies.

I don't really want to lay blame for this mistake, but I'm thinking about it, and yes, you should have identified this as an emergency. You're the first checkpoint at the vets office. BUT your bosses never trained you to identify it as an emergency, and that is their job to make sure their staff is equipped to deal with their job. So the buck really stops with them.

Don't say that to them though. Just ask for the training because you are legitimately upset that you didn't know. But for you, for your stress and anxiety and guilt levels, know that even though you made the mistake, they didn't prepare you to make the judgment you needed to make. You followed their rules and their rules failed you and the cat patient.

Good luck to everyone involved.

[thomasarlo]

3 Tips for Relieving Pain in Your Arthritic Dog

Dog arthritis

Arthritis, also known as osteoarthritis, is a very common and painful disease that affects approximately 25% of dogs. Some people believe that limping is the primary symptom of arthritis in dogs, but dogs are very good at hiding pain and may never limp.

When some dogs develop arthritis, they may simply become less active or exhibit stiffness when getting up. Observant dog owners can spot visible signs of arthritis in their dogs' legs.

Because dogs are such selfless creatures and people-pleasers, be cautious when your dog conceals arthritis pain in order to make you happy. They frequently do this by attempting to maintain a positive outlook on life despite their severe pain.

If your dog has decreased activity, frequently licks the affected joints, and exhibits an overall change in behavior, such as if they used to love eating their food and now don't eat as much, used to love going for a car ride with you but no longer attempt to come with you, or growls or nips at family members when they try to pet or move them in some way, it is likely experiencing arthritic pain.

Dog joint care tips

Dogs suffer from arthritis in the same way that humans do. Unfortunately, dogs will not tell their owners about the pain they are feeling as a result of arthritic joints. As a result, every dog parent must be aware of any visible signs of the dog's slow movement, as well as other telltale signs of arthritis in the dog's front legs, back or hind legs, and knees.

Here are some Joint care for dogs suggestions to help you relieve your dog's arthritis pain:

Prevent the signs of arthritis before they start or combat them if they appear

You can protect your dog from experiencing signs of arthritis-related pain by actually preventing the signs from manifesting, or combating them if they manifest, using joint supplements for dogs.

I began applying this tip when a former college mate who works as the lead veterinarian at Antinol UK told me that the best way to alleviate a dog’s arthritic pain is to ensure that it doesn’t develop in the first instance.

With that advice, I worked on a dog joint care program that involved exercises, proper nutritional diets, and use of joint supplements that promote dog joint health and cartilage development.

Antinol for dogs has been my best dog joint supplement as it has helped me over the years to keep my dogs active and youthful for longer. With regular dosages of the supplement, I have witnessed significant improvements in my dogs that had begun to exhibit signs of arthritis.

Just as careful as cat parents are with cat arthritis supplements, every dog parent needs to play it safe when considering giving their furry friends joint supplements for dogs. That is because dogs are different, and what worked for one dog may be harmful for another. Consulting a veterinarian is crucial when considering giving your dog a pain-relieving supplement.

Providing more cushions and NSAIDs

Just imagine having achy joints. What do you think will make you feel more comfortable? Most likely, you’ll like to try to stay active with good diets and exercises, take some sort of pain-relieving supplement, or non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs), but above all, you’ll need a comfortable place to relax.

Dogs, too, require the same. Providing cushions for your arthritic dog helps them to relax comfortably and not endure the pain they would experience if they relaxed on a hard floor. Combined with NSAIDs that play a major role in controlling dog joint pain and inflammation, cushions enable your dog to live comfortably despite having arthritis.

Physical therapy

Physical therapy, such as appropriate forms of regular exercise, can be extremely beneficial in relieving the pain experienced by dogs with arthritis. Many dog owners in our community also indicate that hydrotherapy or water therapy has been very helpful in alleviating arthritic pain in their dogs. Others have reported about how holistic therapies, such as acupuncture, have helped their dogs with arthritic pain.

Learn as many ways you can alleviate your dog’s arthritic pain as possible

Arthritis in dogs causes pain, inflammation, and swelling that can make even the simplest of efforts, such as walking or getting up from a nap, quite painful and uncomfortable for your dog. It is essential for every dog parent to reflect on the possibility of their dog having arthritic pain now or in the future and do something about it.

Dog owners must constantly learn how to help their dogs' arthritic pain and discomfort, such as consulting their veterinarians about the effective treatments that are currently available, controlling their dogs' weight and diet, installing comfort-enhancing infrastructure, experimenting with massages and appropriate exercises, and making time for grooming their pets.

[combeauferre]

so i’m not going to carry on sharing rainbow when she moves to the new yard 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Intrinsic: Jameson in Therapy

Prompt from Anon:  If you're still taking prompts... "Have you tried NOT doing that?"

CW: Noncon survivor discussing future consensual spice, Jameson’s masochism, frank references to noncon and pet whump, brief internal victim-blaming, world-building detail about WRU

Dr. Berger tucks a bit of graying hair behind one ear, smiling slightly at Jameson from her place in the soft armchair she uses during appointments. “Well,” She says, thoughtful, “have you tried not doing that?”

He looks up at her from where he sits curled up on the long sofa, knees to his chest, picking absently at loose threads across the knee of his baggy blue jeans. As always, she is careful not to let her eyes move to the places where hair is slowly growing back in over bald spots where the straps of a leather muzzle had rubbed, careful not to look at the scars he wears on every inch of exposed skin - she’d made the mistake of being caught looking, however briefly, and had discovered that the newest of her clients was deeply insecure about the visible evidence of his captivity.

She’d apologized, but it had taken time to develop enough trust to come back from her initial mistake. She would not jeopardize that now, after they’ve made so much progress and she’s begun to see a shift in how he talks about and relates to his new life, his world.

He even told her the name he chose for himself, and that he’s been telling the others in the house, one by one. Accepting that it won’t be taken from him like his original name was - that it belongs to him, and is his to share or not. 

She would never, ever admit it, but... Jameson is one of her favorite clients to work with. He’s working so hard, every week that they meet he trusts more and more that the path he’s on is one that will move him forward. 

“What?” 

His voice is slightly rough - someone who has screamed enough to have permanent vocal chord damage, she thinks. She makes a note to speak to Jake Stanton about having a physician check on the potential for nodes or other issues that might pop up later. She’s not a medical doctor, but… well. She’s had a lot of clients with vocal chord damage in the sixteen years she’s been working in the pet lib movement, and you start to pick up on the little signs and symptoms they don’t necessarily declare out loud.

“My question is really just me being a little facetious, I won’t lie, but I do want to talk through the spirit of the question. When you mention feeling guilty that you are having a physical response to your housemate, that you are attracted to them and have been struggling with... well. I’d like to really dig in to where that guilt comes from. Now, I am aware that adjustment houses tend to discourage relationships between household members during their time in residence to cut down on the chance for conflict, but that’s not where your guilt lies, is it?”

He goes back to picking at the hole slowly wearing through his jeans. Dr. Berger waits, giving him the silence and time he needs to think his way through the question and the possible answers. After a long time, he says softly, “No. It’s not. I don’t give a fuck if Stanton wants me to hold somebody’s stupid hand or not.”

She has to force her smile not to widen, wondering if Jameson is aware of just how like Jakob Stanton he really is. No wonder they don’t always get along. “Okay. So can you talk to me about just what you sense of guilt, this worry you feel, is rooted in?” 

She watches with some small surprise as the angry, defiant recovering Box Boy who has spoken frankly and openly to her about being maimed, injured, treated as an object, referred to as an animal... blushes.

“I want-... It’s not the, um, the response. That I hate.” He won’t look at her now, and he’s one who loves to stare her down whenever he thinks she’ll be shocked or disgusted by what he has to tell her. But this… this, he’s ashamed or embarrassed to say. “They’re fucking gorgeous, that’s... anybody would like them. It’s… it’s what I want from them that... scares me.”

“You are accustomed to a certain level of unwanted physical attention, it’s not at all uncommon in Romantic rescues to continue to feel sexual attraction and desire after freedom-”

“No. It’s. It’s not that I-... I know that’s normal. It’s… I want…” He shifts, uneasily. “I want… I want Allyn to hurt me.”

The last sentence is whispered. It’s not sharing a thought, it’s confessing what he feels is some kind of sin he is committing or intending to commit. Dr. Berger sometimes feels like a priest in a confessional booth, although she’s never been one to suggest atonement - no, fear of oneself is where the core of most of her clients’ pain lies, in her experience. Instead, she works on reconstructing the impulse or fear from its foundations, breaking apart the horror of its weight and reconfiguring it so it’s easier to understand. 

To take control of, to direct.

She helps them to own themselves, not to fear the prospect but to see in it freedom they have always deserved. 

Fear is the absolute last thing any of her clients should ever have to feel again. They have been taught to devalue and debase themselves, to fear what their bodies can be made to do. If she does nothing else, Dr. Berger hopes she is able to help them be just a little less afraid of the bodies they live in.

“You want your housemate to hurt you?” She asks, gently. “Do you mean in the sense of a serious injury, or…”

“No. Um. No, I fucking… I think about them, um. Hurting-... like… like they used to do. Biting me, or... or scratching... I th-think sometimes about Allyn h-holding a... never mind. Just. Hurting me. I’m-... made to be hurt.”

“You are made only to be yourself,” Dr. Berger reminds him, her voice low and without any hint of judgement. “We’ve talked about your captors before and how you were held. You believe that you were made into a masochist as part of your training, and so you’re frightened that your mind is thinking about your housemate in ways similar to how you were once forced to think about your captors.”

His nose wrinkles - he’s more dismissive than most of the language she uses, and early on delighted in insisting on using words like owner, handler, master. Things he thought might shock her. But Dr. Berger has heard nearly everything she thinks there might be to hear, by now. She only smiles slightly at his expression, jotting quickly down on her notepad a few notations. 

Finally, he offers hesitantly, “I-I guess. Allyn is… good. They’re soft, and nice, and they’d never-... but I want them to. And it’s-... it would make-... them be like Robert, or… wouldn’t it? It’d be… treating them like… I don’t ever want to be what I was again, so why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about it?” 

He is so rarely vulnerable. Dr. Berger doesn’t take for granted the gift he gives her by letting her see past the wall of anger and derision he has built to keep himself safe. In many ways, he reminds her of when she saw Jake Stanton after his own brush with WRU’s handlers and their methods. Bristling, defensive, and with wounds that cannot be bandaged. They instead need to be exposed to the light.

“Intrusive thoughts that contain elements of your captivity are absolutely normal. You are still in the early stages of making progress, and progress is never linear, Jameson. There is no starting line, no ribbon at the end of the race. There is only moving forward, bit by bit, even if sometimes we move back.”

“You mean I move back,” He says, sullen now. “You don’t do shit. You’re already fine.”

“Mmmn, that’s not… quite accurate. I actually see someone myself, you know.” Dr. Berger smiles at his obvious, visible surprise. “My mentor once told me he never trusted a provider of therapy who did not themselves seek it out. I have my own progress to work towards, just as you have yours.”

“Problems are probably real fucking different, though.”

“Well, that’s true.” She allows herself a warm laugh - and is rewarded when he doesn’t bristle or assume mockery like he used to, but relaxes and even gives her a very small smile in return. “But I would advise you not to compare yourself to others. Your situation, while not unique in some ways, is still unique to you. You’ve been through a kind of horror that no one else has - even if others have experienced some similarities, the traumatic events they experienced will never be entirely like yours.”

He nods.

“But-” She holds up one finger “That doesn’t mean we can’t use what we know as a framework, a foundation you can build your own way on. Think of an ancient Roman road paved into a highway in modern Italy, for instance. The foundation was there, a path laid by people who came through before. But you can take what you need and use it to find your own way. I know that you’re scared of your thoughts, I know that you are frightened of wanting to find gratification or satisfaction in pain because you think it means a return to how you were treated before, or that you are inherently changed in damaging ways by your captivity, but…”

When she trails off, he leans slightly forward “But?”

She chooses her words carefully. “Jameson, would you be willing to consider something that may make you a little uncomfortable?”

He looks at her, depths of feelings in his brown eyes, and slowly nods. “Why not? I’m already fucking uncomfortable. All the time.”

His thin shoulders under the oversized band shirt he wears make angles under the fabric as he shrugs, although in the time she’s been seeing them those sharp edges have already begun to round out, the lines of his jaw and cheekbones are softening.

She’s seen it over and over again, the physical changes reflecting the rebuilding of an entire life. It never ceases to amaze her, how hard each and every one of them works. 

“Okay. This may be hard to hear at first but I think it will help you.”

Eventually he nods. “Yeah,” He half-rasps. “Yeah, okay. Just say it. Everything… everything else you’ve said has helped. Go ahead.”

“Okay. So, what I would like you to consider… perhaps what you see as an enforced flaw, a crack that was put into you, a danger you present to your housemate due to your conditioning and mistreatment… it might be in fact an intrinsic part of your sexual expression, and simply an aspect of your attraction to them, and the wish you stated to me to perhaps escalate your current relationship.”

He swallows. The color drains from his face, except for two spots of bright red high along his cheekbones. “What?” His lips barely move. 

“Jameson…” Her tone dips, reassuring and soothing. “I know what you were told. I know you were likely given a series of half-truths and whole lies designed to engender dependence and teach you to loathe yourself and therefore disconnect from your body. But… that body? It’s very real, and it’s entirely yours. I think that we need to look into the possibility that you already had certain tendencies that were exploited and twisted. Those tendencies are not inherently unhealthy or damaging if you learn to pursue them in a safe environment.”

He blinks, once, twice, his eyes glittering. 

She’s made a misstep and she knows it immediately, clear as the tears Jameson never allows to fall. She didn’t time it quite right. They should have spent more time working up to it…

“Are you saying I’m just-... like this?”

“Not the way you are suggesting,” Dr. Berger says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t express myself clearly enough. Please let me elaborate a little.”

“I fucking hope you d-didn’t mean that I’m-... that I’m just fucked up,” He says, looking away from her, down at the floor. She pretends she doesn’t see one hand go up to curve around the side of his neck, recreating some of the weight of the collar they are so often taught to rely on for a sense of safety.

“I absolutely did not mean that. One thing WRU excels at - one of the reasons they have been so successful - is that they utilize very effective techniques that encourage a sense of complicity and responsibility in the people they abuse and violate. I’m going to hazard a guess that you were told that you chose what happened to you.”

“I signed up for this,” Jameson whispers automatically, rote and robotic, without hesitation. At least, Dr. Berger thinks, she’s been doing this job long enough that hearing that no longer gets to her like it used to. “I wanted to be some rich asshole’s-”

“Yes. That. One way I think they are able to convince so many individuals so thoroughly isn’t only because of the standard methods of sleep and nutritional deprivation, the repetition, memorizing, the mistreatment… no, I think one thing WRU does is find in each of its victims a core truth they can exploit and cause you to fear in yourself, making you more vulnerable to the idea that this company is somehow saving or helping you by ‘making use’ of it. They find your weak point and use it to shatter you, but what WRU never realizes is that the very weakness they exploit is also often the same piece of you we can recover, that we can reclaim. In your case… Jameson, have you ever heard of consensual masochism?”

He’s hooked, she thinks, on this line of logic. On the lifeline she’s thrown him, something to grab onto. A way to begin to believe, in some small way, that he isn’t ruined. They all think they’ve been ruined, by the time she meets them.

None of them is.

“No, I-I haven’t. Does this mean… there are people like me who aren’t, you know, fucktoys-”

“Recovering Romantics,” She corrects, gently. “And yes. Masochism is a not-uncommon mode of expression that many people engage in consensually in the context of healthy sexual expression.”

He swallows, hard. She watches his throat move. Sees the look in his eyes, the minute changes in his expression. The hand pushing against the side of his neck slowly drops. She can see the gears turning within him, a shifting point of view maybe. She can see what he doesn’t want to speak out loud.

There’s another silence. This one is more comfortable, and as always she gives him all the time he needs. 

“How-” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, blinking rapidly again. His knees slowly uncurl and his feet, clad in old hand-me-down sneakers, find their way to flat on the floor. Without his ever-present scowl, he looks years younger. Terrified.

Hopeful.

“How can I-... how do I-...” He takes a deep breath. “If it’s just… part of me… how do I make it safe?”

-

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump

[lazycatmeowsalot]

of instincts and desires

summary: aether didn't know about the difference in gender in teyvat. paimon never told him about it (she probably didn’t know as well, being a genderless being), so imagine his surprise when he found out from an argument from rather protective xiao about his supposed gender.

background: omegaverse AU, xiao x aether main pairing, zhongli x childe background pairing 

free talk: listen, i just read a great omegaverse yaoi manga about an omega having a child and finding an alpha that treats him so well and the story is just awesome! i just cannot not write an omegaverse with aether and xiao! so without further more, the story begins!

Of all the people Aether encountered in his long journey, Xiao was the most reluctant and unwilling to accept his help. “I don’t need your help!” Xiao would always shout when he held his hand out and the emphasis was not lost to the traveler.

He sometimes wondered if it was asking someone for help that bothered the adeptus or if it was because Aether, in particular, was the one who wanted to help.

He had asked Zhongli about it one time, but the god in a mortal’s skin told him that it was probably Xiao’s instincts aching up. There was no additional explanation and Childe immediately followed the statement with saying that he understood where Aether was coming from. 

“We’re in the same boat, comrade! This guy,” the eleventh harbinger put his shoulders on the retired archon’s, who didn’t even flinch at the sudden closeness. “He’s so overprotective as well despite knowing how strong I am!”

Aether didn’t get what Childe meant until it was forcefully on him.

The day started off nicely and the traveler found no issues with his daily commissions. He had even managed to get more info on how to finally travel to Inazuma.

Then, Aether suddenly experienced an extreme fever on his way to Wangshu Inn for errand. Paimon would have suggested to let him rest, but he left his pixie-like companion with Xiangling because he thought that it would be a quick errand.

He certainly didn’t expect to get sick on his way.

“It’s just a couple of miles away,” he muttered to himself in encourage. In all honestly, he could have chosen to rest instead of continuing on but the sun’s almost setting and he already saw the inn. He might as well have it done already.

The traveler dragged his burning body to the top without realizing how the people below glanced at him in concern and worry, seeing his symptoms. “Miss Verr—“ just as he was about to greet the owner of the inn, he felt faint and his eyes blurred.

Aether prepared himself for the pain of collapsing at that moment but it never came. Instead, strong arms managed to break his fall and steadied him. He blinked in confusion, the fever still in his system.

“You,” the familiar growl made him realize who saved him from his fall and golden eyes tried to focus on the angry adeptus holding him tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“Xiao...?” Aether managed to say before his body burned up again. He felt the other stiffen in respond and suddenly, aware of their position, he tried to push Xiao away. “I’m sorry...I’m feeling sick today. My errand...I’m supposed to bring these goods here.”

“Just...a minute...I’ll go home and rest after...”

“Go home alone with your heat? Are you stupid or what?! Do you want to be attacked that badly?!” 

There’s a different kind of anger in the adeptus’ voice and Aether felt quite small for angering Xiao further, but he really didn’t mean to get sick.

Wait, what did he mean by heat—

“Heat? Attacked? What are—”

“You’re a stupid omega if you think that you can take on any alpha in your heat! No matter how strong you are, do you think that you can stop them?” Xiao didn’t seem to notice his confusion, still very much angry at his apparent heat—whatever that was. 

The adeptus put his hands around him and his eyes glowed in intensity and hunger that almost drowned Aether. “You can’t even stop me!” he spat so consumed with the words he uttered and the traveler realized that it was out of protectiveness and restraint. “If my instinct had gone against my reason, I would have taken you and you wouldn’t have been able to stop me.”

Something in Xiao changed as if the strings attached to him broke and left him broken. Like how he resigned himself from his mission and duties, the adeptus accepted that he would probably be a “danger” to Aether.

Aether didn’t know why but his heart ached at this.

“Would you just listen to me?! I don’t know why you’re acting this way!” the traveler didn’t snap often because he needed to be the calm one in most situations. He wanted to help and being angry never helped, but he didn’t want Xiao like this. He didn’t want the adeptus suffering emotionally like this.

“I don’t understand why you and everyone thinks that you have this instinct to act like this! I don’t know why having a fever will make any difference in fighting when I’ll be resting it away! I have no idea what you mean by heat or anything like that! I’m confused and frustrated!”

“I’m not a mind reader! I won’t know what you expect me to do if you don’t say anything!”

Silence answered to his rant and he felt pairs of eyes stare at him. He stubbornly looked down in shame at his outburst. He thought himself better than this. Xiao didn’t need to get yelled nor should the other have yelled at him. They should be having a conversation, not this shouting contest.

“Traveler,” Verr Goldet broke the silence with a serious and grave tone and he straightened up, seeing the seriousness in the owner and the guilt in Xiao. “Do you not your gender?”

“You’re an omega, a rare male omega and they’re usually the submissive partner of an alpha.”

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 15 ~Etched On Wood~

Previously in The Element of Surprise

Annalise perked up at Claire's feeble attempt to sound less grumpy. "Har de har har! I didn't realise you could be funny before coffee. A total package for a marauding pirate if I may say so."

"Tell that to Captain Beard," she mumbled, getting out of bed. 

"Aye, matey!" Annalise mischievously winked. "That's if he happens to be in Isle of Harris this weekend. Which is where, by the way, we're going, as in, now! So get packing!"

Claire stilled and shook her head. "Wot?" She began to shake her head, tugging the covers around her as she made her way to the dresser. "Oh no, no, no! I'm not leaving this place for any man or woman, including you, blondie! I've got a pile of work to do. You know I have deadlines."

"Oh no, you don't. You stop right there, missy! Have you forgotten you agreed with Jamie to take a weekend break?" 

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh, did he also tell you how he got me to agree?"

"No. But you can tell me later on the plane."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

  Claire stood in the quaint wonderland of whisky, gin and assorted spirits, also known as The Island Spirit Whisky Shop. One side of the store was given over to the whiskies, while numerous craft gins and spiced rums were on the other. Absently, she touched one of the bottles of liquid gold, mentally calculating how many bottles she could fit in her small luggage to bring back as presents. When she heard laughter, she glanced up to find Annalise sampling a dram with the owner, effectively ending her dithering and opting to grab just a bottle of single malt in front of her instead. They'd just arrived in Stornaway over an hour ago and decided to put her gift shopping spree on hold .

Annalise raised a whisky glass and winked. "You better start getting busy. Our driver isn't going to hang around and wait for us all day. Found anything you like?"

Claire approached her friend and showed the bottle. "Aberfeldy, sixteen years old. For us tonight."

"Very nice. Glad to see you warming up to this trip for a change. How long has it been since you last checked your phone for Jamie's message?" 

"Five minutes," she replied, scrunching her nose at Annalise for bringing up the sore subject. She handed the bottle and her credit card to the shop owner before facing her friend. "I've sent Jamie a message, and he hasn't replied yet. He's got some explaining to do ...sending me away like this with too little notice." She let out an unladylike grunt. "Why can't our men be here? We're in a beautiful location ...romantic even ..." She waved a hand in the air to prove a point. "I don't understand why you're not so bothered not spending time with your boyfriend when you rarely see him, and you're only here until Monday."

"Oh, poor us girls! Without our men! God help us!"

Claire fought a smile. "Hey, now, if I recall correctly, I had to listen to you moan endlessly about not seeing Willie enough. What was that again, you said just a week ago over the phone?" She tapped her chin and pretended to go through her memory bank. "You can't stand living without him."

"Correction, missy. I told you I couldn't stand living on my own in London. Which means I'm not used to not having you around."

"Ah, my mistake. Must have misheard that part." Annalise snorted a laugh and went to grab a bottle of gin from the shelf, leaving Claire once again to thoughts of Jamie. Any day now, John would summon her back to London, probably with Mary Hawkins and Tom Christie in tow. Though she dreaded going back, she'd placated those thoughts by telling herself she'd be moving to the Highlands soon. 

Despite the valuable inroads to their relationship, Claire wondered if she would have given up London and her job so soon, supposing that Jamie hadn't had PTSD. Would their relationship have moved this fast? She immediately quelled that thought because deep down, she knew in her heart whatever their circumstances might have been, they would have chosen to be together whether it was too soon or not.

She glanced once more at her phone, inwardly debating whether to call Jamie or not. What the hell is he up to? She hadn't heard a peep from him since she'd left the cottage. Something was definitely up, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"So, this work of yours is moving along fast. I bet you can't wait to start your life in the Highlands with your love, no less. So, what's the plan? Are you and Jamie buying a bigger property together, or will you be staying in the cottage to see how the relationship pans out?" 

"His cottage for now. As for what lies ahead, we haven't talked about that far into the future yet."

"Quite right. Future planning is tedious, anyway. It's pretty obvious you and Jamie are meant to be together, no matter what. I saw it coming from a mile away. The way he looks at you ...you can literally see smoke coming out of his ears." Annalise comically waggled her eyebrows as she eyed the other sample bottles on the counter.

"Well, since we're talking about the future and wotnots," Claire began, lowering her voice, "I have been doing a lot of thinking myself. For starters, I want to have Jamie's babies one day." 

Annalise's eyes widened. 

She frowned. "Wot?"

"Babies?"

"Yes, babies." When Annalise continued to stare at her, Claire groaned. "Not now, though, silly! Our relationship might be going at full speed, but God ...I have other plans in mind before that happens."

"Yes, I get that ...but ...but have you and Jamie talked about babies?"

Claire gave the store owner an apologetic smile and pulled Annalise into the alcove by the window. "No. As I said, we haven't talked anything about the future. What's wrong with you? I know it's too early to be talking about babies, but everyone knows where our relationship is heading to. Eventually, somewhere down the line, starting a family would be the next step. Or did you think my move to the Highlands is experimental?"

"No! Of course not! It's not that ... it's..."

"It's wot?"

"I, ah ...the babies part."

"Jesus, Annalise, what's your fret about babies?"

"There's no fret!"

"What is it then?"

"I, ... I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you this, but ..."

"Tell me wot?"

"I thought you knew because why else would Jamie ..."

"Know what? For God's sake, spit it all out! It quite apparent you know something."

Annalise shook her head and sighed. "It's something Willie told me. It was right after when Jamie started to remember bits and pieces about his past. Willie thinks Jamie may have been deeply affected by what he'd learned. You know ...him witnessing your parents' death and you becoming an orphan at such a young age." She puffed out a breath. "Jamie confided to his brother that ...he doesn't want to have children because he doesn't think he'd be able to bear it if they would go through something as horrible as what you've both been through. I know that's not really Jamie talking, and I understand those fears are coming from a place brought about by his condition. Maybe it's something both of you should talk about. I thought Jamie might have already mentioned it."

Claire paused for a few heartbeats, absorbing Annalise's words. Should I be worried? A part of her knew it was his PTSD symptoms amplifying those fears in Jamie's head. The other part, she wasn't too sure. But he'd made so much progress, she thought. She waved a hand in dismissal and let out a humourless laugh. "Oh ... don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure Jamie didn't mean to say that in its entirety. You know how men are like ...they tend to have reservations about children and stuff like that in the beginning. Besides, he understands how his condition affects his reasoning, decisions and emotions. He's very aware of that. He told me so. So him saying not wanting to have children is not a projection of what's truly in his heart." She gave her friend a reassuring smile even though a smidge of uncertainty was starting to creep in. "Jamie and I are in love," she said with all the conviction she could muster. "And we've proven that with love, we can achieve anything. As for his current views about not having children, they will eventually change. After what he's been through, it's understandable he'd be worried about history repeating itself. He's slowly but surely recovering, and as soon as the new therapist arrives, it can only get better from there. I'm quite sure of it"

"Claire ..."

"There's nothing to worry about," she said firmly this time. 

Annalise grabbed her hand. "Claire ...I have no doubt that he loves you. Even a blind man can see that. But think about this. What if ...what if he can't give you what you want? I mean babies. That's what you want one day, isn't it?" When Claire nodded, she continued. "You should talk to Jamie about your dreams of having children one day before moving here to Scotland. I don't want you to invest your time and emotion in a relationship that will probably end in regrets. I like Jamie, and I love you, and I love the love you have for each other. But I don't want to see the both of you hurt ...just because you failed to see each other eye to eye. Please promise me you'll talk about this with Jamie before turning your life upside down and moving here to Scotland and start playing house. There's a lot at stake here, Claire. Please, just talk to him. At least you know if you're both on the same page or not."

"Fine. I'll talk to Jamie. But under one condition." Annalise nodded in response. "If we're going to have this break together, promise me to refrain from any more baby talks."

"You started it."

Claire sighed. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "But it ends now."

"Alright, but I'm only going to say one more thing and then we can go back to holiday mode." Annalise made a broad gesture. "I can see that our little talk rattled you a bit. And don't you dare deny it!" When Claire shrugged and made a gesture to carry on, she proceeded. "I just want you to know, despite the uncertainties you may be harbouring right now, ...thanks to my big mouth, nothing changes the fact that Jamie loves you. I'm sure after you've talked, you'll arrive at some compromise about this baby thingy."

Despite herself, Claire laughed out loud and rolled her eyes. "Holy hell, we sure are a bizarre duo, aren't we? Poor Jamie. Here we are talking about babies when he probably hasn't even thought about marriage. If he could hear us talk right now, he'll probably put me on the next flight to London."

Annalise looked at her sheepishly. "Or perhaps not. Shall we get going?"

She raised a dubious eyebrow at her friend. "Hey. What's that look for?" 

Annalise wandered back to the check-out counter, laughing. "That was my wise, venerable sage look. You like?"

"No, knock it bloody off!"

..........

Jamie pressed the cold pack against his throbbing eye and tried unsuccessfully to tamp down his irritation at Quentin. Stood in the cottage's open space lounge, which comprised the kitchen and dining area, he turned away to face one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time, he noticed the stunning vistas before him. Looking out to the south, there's the view of the village and valley, and the west the vast, beautiful beach, and to the north, the rolling hills. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed the sceneries, but the crunching sound of Quentin's meat mallet on walnuts might as well have been a tree stump grinder splintering his skull.

"Do ye mind?" Jamie muttered, turning around to glower at Claire's uncle. "That godawful sound is making my headache worse." 

"Stop whingeing." Quentin didn't bother to glance up from the chopping board on which he seemed resolved to make continuous head-splitting rackets. "Because of you, I haven't eaten all day. What kind of boys' trip is this anyway? There's no food or booze except for the bottle of expensive champagne... these walnuts ...and that ..." He jutted his chin at the fruit basket and shook his head in disgust. "Sorry I can't accommodate your headache." He watched the walnut shell fly across the counter when his mallet hit the chopping board. "As for the black eye, I'm sorry about that too."

Willie chuckled from behind his open newspaper as he lifted his feet to rest them on the coffee table. "Everyone will now think Claire dropped one on ye. How did it happen again? I didnae quite catch the whole story since both of ye were too busy grumbling at one another when I arrived."

Jamie glared with one eye. "As ye've already gathered, Quentin did this." He pointed his index finger at the evidence and adjusted the cold pack with a free hand. "And I cannae for the life of me understand why it was supposed to be a good thing."

"I told you already ...we had a bit of miscommunication," Quentin shot.

"Miscommunication?" Jamie sputtered, throwing a hand in the air in disbelief. He spun around and faced Willie. "I said to him if I start having one of my panic attacks on the ferry..."

"...you wanted to be knocked out," Quentin interjected.  

"Jesus Christ! I never said that, and I wasnae having a panic attack. I was feeling queasy."

"Yes, so queasy he turned green," Quentin added, hammering the walnut with more force this time, making Jamie flinch at the offensive sound. "And here I thought he was having a panic attack. He never mentioned anything about being prone to seasickness. So when he started to act all weird on me, I decked him."

"On my eye of all places!" Jamie shouted, slamming the cold pack on the kitchen counter. "When I said I'd knock myself out, I meant I'd take my medication and sleep it off in the car." He pointed a finger to his eye. "Look at this ...I look like I participated in a pub brawl."

Willie glanced up before turning a page of the newspaper. "Aye, that ye do."

"Well, you should have told me more about your condition," Quentin stressed, pointing the mallet at him. "How was I supposed to know what a panic attack looks like?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "Even if it was a panic attack, what made ye think socking me on the eye is the answer?"

Quentin shrugged. "I guess I get panic attacks too, ...now there!" When Jamie turned away in frustration, he pressed on. "Look at the bright side ...I got rid of your seasickness and saved you from having a relapse."

"I told ye already I wasnae having a panic attack, and I havenae had one for some time now!"

"Hey, may I remind you that I offered to drive Claire and Annalise to the airport and fly in later as Willie did? Your brother would have been in a better position to deal with your condition. I know you wanted to talk more about that bloody bench, but ..." Quentin shook his head as if remembering something. "Say ...I still don't understand why we haven't gone altogether. All this palaver with keeping this whole thing a secret and Willie taking the next plane after dropping off the girls." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Another thing, no one's told me yet where the girls were heading to."

Jamie gave his brother a warning cough.

Willie sighed and lowered his newspaper. "The lassies are somewhere having fun. Anyway, ye'll be getting yer wish granted. Ye'll be flying in my place when we return back to the mainland. Jamie told me CalMac ferries banned ye for a year."

Jamie bit back a smile at Willie's smooth change of subject.

"So Jamie told you." Quentin popped a walnut in his mouth. "Did he also tell you he didn't even try to explain to the police that it wasn't my intention to knock him out cold? That my intention was to help."

Jamie took a slow breath. "How could I? My head was still reeling from your punch. The police could only take in reports from eyewitnesses." 

Quentin cast the mallet aside and flattened both hands on the counter. "All right, all right ....never mind that. What's done is done, and I apologised already." He paused for a few beats and frowned. "So ... what's happening now? Why are we sitting around in this cottage when we could be organising some grub and booze?"

"Just hang fire for a little bit more." Jamie took out his phone and pretended to fiddle with it. It was becoming more difficult to distract Quentin by the second, but he needed to do this right if his plan was going to work. "The landlord is supposed to stop by. It shouldn't be long now."

"Well ..." Quentin glanced at the wall clock. "If the landlord doesn't come anytime soon, I'm going to find the nearest pub. I'm starving. And don't tell me to eat fruits. I want a proper hot meal. And I need a drink after the morning we had."

Not happening! Jamie couldn't have him doing that. "Look, dinnae start lining yer imaginary shots just yet. Pubs open much later here. Maybe while we're waiting, ye can show me that bench we were talking about." He gave Quentin a meaningful look. "Remember? It's one of the reasons why we came here for. Ye've delayed it long enough bashing those walnuts."

Quentin lifted an eyebrow. "Can you blame me? If we'd eaten first, we wouldn't be having this discussion, and we could be looking at that bench already. As it stands, I have to settle for walnuts. Besides, can't the bench wait? You said this trip would be entertaining. And smashing walnuts is not my idea of entertainment."

Jesus, why does everything have to be difficult with this man? 

Willie finally took pity on Jamie as he regarded them both with a mixture of impatience and amusement. "Look, I ken ye're both a bit on edge and didn't have a good start to the day." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know ye're hungry, Quentin, and I know yer eye's in pain, Jamie, but bickering at one another is no' gonnae help yer cause." He clasped his hands and gave Jamie a knowing look. "Why don't ye both go and look at that bloody bench while I wait here for the landlord. That way, we're getting something done. Fair enough?"

"Fine." Jamie and Quentin said simultaneously.

Willie's head briefly fell back, and he heaved a relieved exhale up at the ceiling. "Finally, they agreed on something."

Quentin ignored Willie and looked at Jamie. "Right, we might as well." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "If you'll follow me," he instructed before heading for the front door.

Jamie glanced at his brother, who just nodded and returned back to reading the newspaper. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he followed Quentin out of the house and to the back garden. 

Halfway, Quentin glanced back at him. "So ...about that bench, you still remember this place?"

"Only vaguely," Jamie responded quietly, overcome with acute nostalgia as he began to take in his surroundings. 

The last few nights, while Claire had been cooped up in the shed doing edits, he and Quentin had been trying to piece their history together, mostly to help Jamie understand the past. It had been a frustrating feat at best for Quentin, trying to unravel Jamie's memories as a toddler that they'd almost laid the past to rest. Until Jamie had mentioned a bench with engravings in a garden of a coastal retreat, he'd once visited as a wee bairn. To his astonishment, Quentin had immediately known the place. The more they'd talked about it, the more the memory of that day made sense and became vivid until an idea came to Jamie's mind ...to use this trip for his plan.

When they reached the back of the house, they came to a stop, and there in the middle of the freshly trimmed lawn was the bench. Fragmented images began to flood Jamie's brain, colliding together to form a vivid picture. As if being pulled by an invisible force, he made his way towards the seat. Laying a hand on the surface, he caressed the weather-worn wood, relying on his heart to know what to search for. When he found the familiar yet foreign carving, he knew he'd made the right decision to arrange this trip. "Here it is."

Quentin stooped down beside Jamie to take a better look. "Jesus, it is really here," he whispered. "Just as Henry told me." He glanced at Jamie. "And you remembered. How old were you when you were last here?"

Jamie sat on the bench and briefly squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he took a deep breath. "At the most, I must have been four. It was summer. My ma needed a break from us boys, so Murtagh took Willie and me on a trip here to visit Harry. Jenny stayed behind. I cannae mind what Harry was doing here, but I do remember him showing me this when my godfather disappeared into the house." His fingers traced the engraving. "I never understood then what it meant when he read it out to me. He'd told me it was our wee secret."

"It was a secret, alright. Henry wouldn't have wanted Murtagh to know." 

"Aye, I sort of caught the gist of it then even though I was too young to understand."

Quentin spoke with a distant look in his eyes. "Henry told me everything that happened that day and how it had been difficult for him to keep their trip here a secret from Julia. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Jamie couldn't help laughing out loud. He knew the feeling. "Aye, I can imagine," he replied, hoping Quentin would finally take the hint and see the real reason behind this trip.

"Did you know Henry had always wanted a son for his firstborn?" Quentin asked out of the blue. "Don't get me wrong, though. Claire was the light of his life, and he loved her. So much so, he would stare at her for hours while she slept. So Julia told me anyway. But he'd always said he wanted a son. I think it had something to do with him spending a lot of time with you and your brother during the summer, even before he met Julia." He smiled at Jamie. "He had fond memories of you and your brother, and it was very apparent from the stories he told me of you."

"A son," Jamie murmured, shifting on the bench as another memory popped up. "Aye, he'd mentioned something about wanting a son. He used to joke about having one, one day ...a strong lad like me were his words." He got up from his position and scoured the seat once more with his fingers and eyes, trying hard to remember where the other etching was. "I seem to recall myself asking Harry what if the baby turns out to be a girl. I cannae mind his reply, but he told me to pick a girl's name because he'd already had one for a boy. After I picked one, he carved both names we came up with on this bench ... it's here somewhere."

"Really?" Propping his specs on his nose, Quentin hunched over and began to search. "Can you remember the name you chose?"

He shook his head. "I probably came up with something daft ...like some cartoon character Jenny used to watch. "

"Or perhaps not." Quentin hunkered down, gliding his hand over the wooden surface of the edge of the bench. "Take a look at this." He stood up and took a step back to allow Jamie to see better.

What Jamie saw next took his breath away and only confirmed that niggling feeling in his guts. It hadn't been a misplaced memory nor a dream. He unseeingly watched Quentin squat down again to take a better look at the engraving, barely able to formulate words to express his emotions over the thoughts running through his head. Was this Harry's way of sending him a message ...a blessing of some sort? Or was it just some quirk in the universe, and everything had been purely coincidental? If it was the former, he'd been taken on a merry rough ride, and he could almost envision Harry's delight at his handiwork, watching them by the sidelines. Like Quentin, he was momentarily at a loss for words.

"You know, Henry's been gone for years," Quentin finally spoke after a long silence. "And it astounds me that you refer to him by his nickname with such familiarity. Only Julia called him Harry. As a matter of fact, now that I think of it, sometimes you talk about him as if he's still alive. You may have forgotten many of your memories of Harry, but it's quite obvious the special bond you had with him is still there, and it must have made an impact on your life."

Jamie almost laughed out loud. If only Quentin knew. He debated whether to say anything about Harry's mysterious appearances, but after a few indecisive heartbeats, he thought, bugger it. He might as well let the cat out of the bag. "Harry has appeared to me," he blurted rapidly before he could change his mind. "Numerous time. As solid and as real as we are standing here right now."

Quentin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Briefly, he filled Quentin in on the mystery that was Harry, from the first time the appearances began and everything in between and watched an array of expressions register on the older man's face. "I've only shared this story with Willie and Claire, and now ...you. It's not something I like to share with just anyone. But because ye're Harry's brother, I thought ye ought to know as well."

Quentin let out a low whistle. "That's some story. I don't know what to say. I've never believed in all these mumbo-jumbo spirit sightings, but ..." He let out a huge sigh. "...though your story is bizarre, strangely enough, I believe you. That night when you mentioned this place and this bench, I dreamt of Henry after. For the first time in years. He was sat right here, not saying a word. That's why I agreed to go on this trip. The notion that he may be trying to say something did occur to me and thought I might as well see this special place of Henry and Julia for myself."

Jamie let out an exhale of relief just as he saw Willie walking in their direction. His brother made a motion of tapping his watch, which could only mean one thing. He needed to make a move. Straightening up to his full body height, Jamie faced Quentin and cleared his throat. "Speaking about this place ..." He swallowed and braced himself. "I haven't been entirely honest with ye."

"Is that so?"

Willie came to stand beside them, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Jamie disregarded his brother's knowing smirk. "There's also another reason for this trip that I meant to tell ye."

Quentin muttered a curse. "You're going to tell me this isn't the all-lads trip you'd been going on about, is that it?"

"Aye ...no! I mean ..." He tunnelled impatient fingers through his hair. "What I meant to say is ...with everything falling into place ...Harry, the engravings on this bench a-and how our history are sort of intertwined together ...I -I thought ...right here and now would be a perfect time."

"Perfect time for?"

Jamie puffed out a breath. "Perfect time to ask for your blessing."

"Blessing for what?" Quentin's brow puckered, but by then, he knew Jamie well enough, and it only took a quick study of the situation to determine exactly what was going to be asked. Quentin's eyes widened at the realisation. "Holy hell, Jamie! Are you bloody kidding me? Is this what all this has been about?"

"It's been coming to this, cannae ye see it?" He worked to steady his voice. "Ye dreamt of Harry sat on this bench. That must mean something, and ye know it. Everything that's happened to me ...Claire coming to the Highlands ....those ..." He pointed at the bench. "...those engravings ....they didn't happen by chance. All of it has led to this day.."

"Jesus! I can't believe you're making me want to thump you a few hours after I just walloped you on the eye and apologised for it." He rolled up the sleeves of his top. "I was just beginning to warm up to you, lad. But it has to be done. It's a rule."

"Rule? What bloody rule?" He watched Quentin clenched and unclenched his fist. "Ye really are gonnae thump me, is that it?"

"Rule is rule," Willie murmured, watching them closely while sneaking glances at his phone. "But best get this settled soon because we dinnae have much time left."

"Time for what?" Quentin shot. "What the bloody hell is going on now?"

Jamie's patience was swiftly deteriorating. "Look, Quentin ...ye can thump me later, alright? I'll even offer ye my good eye. But right now, I need yer blessing." 

Quentin laughed incredulously. "Listen, son, you don't get to schedule your own thumping." 

That was the last straw. Whatever patience Jamie had left dissolved. There was no time for pussyfooting. He took two steps forward and brought his face close to Quentin's. The older man looked too shocked to react, so Jamie took advantage. "Listen to me, ye cantankerous ol' git. I tried being patient with ye because I know ye like me even if ye have a funny way of showing it. But this intent on giving me grief for whatever demented reason ye have and deriving joy out of it is bloody mental. So, I'm asking ye in the nicest possible way ...give me yer blessings. Ye're gonnae give it to me anyway. So cut out all this shite and give it to me now."

A tense silence between the men ensued, and they all stood stock-still waiting for each other to give in, and the only discernible sound to be heard was the waves crashing on the beach.

When the phone notification went off, Quentin and Jamie momentarily forgot their stand-off and whipped their attention to Willie. "So gentlemen, what is it going to be? It's nearly showtime."

Quentin's eyes narrowed. "Showtime?"

..........

"Òran na Mara," Claire read out loud as they drove past the hand-carved wooden sign. "Song of the sea. How very fitting."

"I think it's romantic," Annalise whispered in response, smiling at her from the passenger seat in front. 

"Weel, here we are," the driver announced as they pulled into the driveway. "Welcome to yer home for the next few days." 

Claire leaned forward to take a better look at the cottage with a thatched roof and stone wall. Though it retained its traditional features, the beautiful structure had all the subtle hallmarks of luxury, and she could tell it had been sympathetically modernised without compromising its original character. She smiled when she caught a glimpse of the white sand beach and the turquoise Atlantic ocean. "This is gorgeous, Annalise. Jamie's outdone himself with this surprise."

"He certainly has," Annalise grinned. "Shall we?"

They both hopped out, and while Annalise sorted out the driver, Claire could only stand there in awe of the surrounding. Everywhere she turned, there was something to look at - beaches, rolling hills, and islands on the horizon. She was so taken by the natural beauty around her, she didn't even notice the car drive away. 

"Wait till you see inside. Jamie showed me pictures of the interior." Annalise walked up to the house and opened the wooden door, and Claire followed, hefting her luggage.

Inside was just as breathtaking as outside. "Wow," Claire breathed, admiring the views from the numerous windows. "This place is huge. There's probably enough room to accommodate ten people here. What are we going to do with all this space? The boys should have come."

Annalise just shrugged and smiled as she opened the glass door that led to the back garden overlooking the beach. "Why don't you go out and enjoy the view. There's a seat over there. I'll go and find us something to drink."

She stepped out of the cottage and sucked in a deep breath of salty air, and immediately felt at peace. Shading her eyes from the sun, she surveyed the curved bay of the beach and the peninsula in the backdrop. As far as she could see, there wasn't a soul in the area, nor were there passing cars to be heard, just the sound of nature, white sands and blue skies ahead. Oddly enough, the scenery uncannily reminded her of her mother's painting, which hung in her family home in Oxford, making her momentarily wonder if it was still there.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. There was still no message from Jamie. She decided it was no use pining over him when he must have spent a fortune sending her here to have some quality time with her best friend. He was thoughtful that way, even though sometimes to a fault. With a shake of her head, she shoved her phone back in her jeans, but something brought her up short as she made her way towards the bench. A familiar scent.

Before she could turn around to seek for the source, a pair of strong arms slid around her waist, soft, warm lips gliding along the back of her neck.

Exhilaration snapped in her veins. "Jamie," she breathed, turning around to wrap him in her arms. "You're here."

"I'm here," Jamie returned gruffly, his big hand rubbing circles on the small of her back. "Did ye really think I'd let ye out of my sight for a whole weekend when ye could be returning to London anytime soon?" He buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling his nose against her skin. 

"A part of me didn't think so." She tipped her head back and forced him to look at her. When his face came to view, she did a double-take. "Your eye! What happened?"

His lips twitched. "Dinnae fash, Sassenach. It's just a minor accident. So, do ye like yer surprise?"

Her lungs released the pent-up breath she was holding in a rush. "I love it and even more so now that you're here." 

He smiled and took a moment to search her eyes before their mouths joined, warm hands cradling her face. His tongue parted her lips and stroked with the utmost tenderness in a slow, savouring kiss making her aware of their hearts pounding in unison.

"Sassenach ..." He trailed off to brush his lips against her temple. "Before anything else, there's something I have to show ye."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Another surprise?"

Tongue tucked into his cheek, he momentarily glanced over her shoulder before his gaze ticked back to hers. "I suppose ye can call it that. Have ye been here before?"

She noticed the immediate gravity in Jamie's expression as he kissed her brow. "No. I haven't. But I must admit this place does feel familiar."

"How so?"

"The views ...it reminds me of my mother's painting. She's probably been here at one point."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "She was."

"She was? How do you know? Uncle Lamb told you?" she asked rapidly.

"Patience, woman! Too many questions all at once." He tugged her towards the bench, and when he let go, he stooped over the seat and ran a hand over the wooden surface. He glanced up at her and smiled. "Come here and take a look at this."

Claire did as she was told, and as she crouched down, her eyes landed on a string of words carved in what looked like a feeble attempt at calligraphy.

 Henry and Julia - At the end, as at the start, through all the in-betweens, until the world stops spinning.

 A choppy breath passed her lips as she ran her fingertips over the etchings. "It's my mum and dad."

"Aye."

"They were here." She stood up and looked around her, this time, trying to see the surroundings through their eyes. "It makes sense dad brought mum to this place. It's so romantic, and from stories I've been told, he was just ...that. And I can imagine my mum sitting here on this very spot, capturing the moment with her artwork." An intense wave of gratitude suddenly rose, almost making the moisture in her eyes spill. Jamie had done this for her because he knew, just like him, she was trying to put the pieces of her past together. "God, this is bloody insane. I wouldn't have seen this if we hadn't met."

"Ye want to hear the best part?"

She gave him a wobbly smile. "Go on then."

"Yer da proposed to your ma on this very bench."

She let out a soft expulsion of breath. Something expansive and extraordinary stirred within. It was as if, in this very moment, Jamie's revelation had taken back to her parents' past and was there to witness it. "I don't know what to say." 

"The carvings on the bench was yer da's tribute to the day he proposed to yer ma."

"And you know this, how?" she asked quietly.

"Yer uncle and I put two and two together," Jamie explained, with a one-shoulder shrug. "I told ye ....some memories of my childhood have started to come back. Weel, this was one of them. When I mentioned to Quentin about how yer father showed me his handiwork on this bench when I was a wee lad, he'd figured this was the place Harry proposed. Yer father must have spoken of this place to yer uncle. I didnae understand any of it back then. I was too young. I wouldnae have realised the significance of it if I hadn't told Quentin about it. After some thoughts, I knew I had to come back and see it for myself just to prove I hadn't imagined any of it."

"But did you have to put me on a charter plane?" she softly admonished. "With Tom Christie? Are you mates with him now?"

"Tom is often hired to fly some goods to Stornoway for some restaurant. When I heard he'd be flying today, I thought it fitted perfectly with my plan. I must admit it pained me to ask him to take ye girls, but he was happy enough to sneak ye in."

"We could have flown here together."

"Aye, we could have." He took her hand in his and played with her fingers. "But I wasnae sure how I'd fare in the plane with my PTSD. Besides, I had a few personal businesses to attend to. 

"Such as?"

He shook his head in amusement and kissed her lips, lingering there before drawing away. "Ye're distracting me, Sassenach and I still have something to show ye."

She heard Annalise's laughter coming from the cottage. "I presume Willie is here with you too."

"Your presumption is correct. Now stop asking questions and take a look at this." He pulled her towards the other end of the bench.

She sighed. "Alright, let's see it then."

Jamie let go of her hand and tapped a finger on the spot. "Take a look."

Claire leaned forward and read the inscription.

 Jamie/Claire - the promise of greater things to come.

 She frowned as confusion settled upon her. "What's this?" She traced the grooved marks of the words with a fingertip. "This has the same indentation as the other engraving. And it looks old. This couldn't have been recent."

"Yer da wrote it."

She straightened up. "Wot? But what does it mean?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "He wrote the names he would name his firstborn. He chose my name for a boy, and I got to pick yers."

Her eyes widened. "You picked my name?"

"Apparently," he grinned.

A laugh bubbled out of her. "God, so much to take in. Whatever next?"

"This." Jamie picked up a paper bag she hadn't noticed before by the bench and pulled out a padded envelope. "It's from yer workplace." He read the sender. "Dreamcatcher."

She sighed, still reeling from what Jamie just told her. "It's probably from John," she murmured more to herself as she took the envelope. She tore it open and was surprised when she pulled out its content and realised it was a children's book. "It's from Louise." When Jamie gave her a bland look, she sat down on the bench and stared at it. "She's a good friend of Annalise and a children's book author as well as an illustrator. I convince her to publish with Dreamcatcher when she showed me her work. I admitted to her a while back I wanted to be a writer. Every time our paths would cross, she'd asked me if I'd done anything about it. And every time I told her I was still working as an editor, she would give me a disappointed look." She smiled and shook her head. "I wonder why she sent this to me." Admiring the colourful print, she ran her hand over the cover. "What a talented woman."

"So ...what is the book about?"

Claire examined the book. "It's about The Unicorn and the Lioness," she answered, reading the title and leafing through the pages. As she suspected, each page was beautifully and colourfully illustrated. "Well, shall we see what we have here?" She opened it to the beginning and began to read aloud.

 There once was a unicorn

That fell for a lioness. 

She surprised him with her charm,

And her comeliness.

 She grinned as she flipped the page. "Unusual pairing," she observed, making a face at Jamie. "...but hey ...the unusual ones tend to be the best." 

She licked her lips and continued reading.

 The two, you see, 

Were from different worlds 

So it made him wonder, 

How'd it all unfurled?

 "Ah ... makes me wonder too," she added softly. "This is getting interesting."

Jamie laughed, angling his body so he could also see the pictures.

 In spite of their differences, 

It was love at first sight. 

Their feelings grew quickly, 

Their hearts took to flight.

 She smiled and turned to the next page.

 The unicorn, his life, 

Once troubled and scattered 

Now calmed and on the mend

In all ways, that matter.

 She glanced up at him and grinned. "Well, love heals, so they say," she remarked with a wink. "And love is all there is."

"Love is all there is," Jamie echoed with amusement.

She took a deep breath and resumed where she left off.

 There were simply no words 

For how lucky he'd become. 

Without her by his side 

Life would be hopelessly glum.

 She paused for a beat as a peculiar inkling tugged in her guts. Swallowing the odd knot in her throat, she forced herself to say something. Anything! "We wouldn't want the unicorn feeling glum now, would we?" she managed, suddenly unable to draw breath. 

"No," he replied. "A glum unicorn would be a tragedy."

Oh, lordy, lordy! Is this what I think what's happening? She took a fortifying breath and lifted the next page with a shaky hand. 

 It's hard to believe 

Just how happy they were. 

He could not conceive 

Even one day without her.

 "Happy is good," she squeaked, working her throat to be heard. 

"Happiness is always a good choice ...grab it while ye can," he returned quietly.

Unable to get a grip of her runaway thoughts, a dull pounding began in her chest, gradually accelerating and drowning out the noise in their surrounding, portraying the moment with a dreamlike quality. She peered up at Jamie. Underneath his handsome exterior, she could see he was anxious, the lines around his mouth more noticeable than usual. The bruise on his eye, as much as she didn't believe it resulted from an accident, added a mixture of masculinity and vulnerability. God, I love this man! She wanted to stand up and hug him and let him know she knew where he was going with this. But now was not the time to ease his anxiety. She needed to pull herself together to see through what Jamie had probably painstakingly arranged for this moment.

"Weel, are ye gonnae finish reading it?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Batting a speck of non-existent dirt from the book, she filled her lungs, nodded and read the next lines.

 So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift 

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

 A silver piece? A record-scratching moment descended upon her like a heavy lead. What's a silver piece? Had she misinterpreted Jamie's intention? But when she glanced up from the book, there he was kneeling in front of her. Holding an expensive-looking velvet ring box, looking determined and brimming with adoration. It's not a ring, Beauchamp! It's a silver piece ...whatever the heck that is. Get a grip. She mentally shook herself. Of course, it couldn't be a ring. It's too soon for him to be asking her hand in marriage. The tiny box had to contain a key to his cottage, ....but he'd already given her one. Perhaps he bought a new house?

"Are ye gonnae to open it?" he asked, breaking her thoughts.

At a loss for words, she took the velvet box with trembling fingers. She reminded herself to calm down. She wouldn't want to embarrass them both into thinking Jamie was proposing.

"It's no' gonnae open itself, Sassenach. Or do ye want to keep holding it until ye're ready?" His lips twitched at its corner, and a spark of amusement lit his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She took a deep breath and opened the tiny box. When she glimpsed its content, she could only manage a weak "Oh!" Nestled in the case was a shiny one-pound coin where the ring should have been. Too confused for words, she gave him a questioning look.

On his knees, Jamie edged himself forward and took her hand. Keeping his eyes on her, he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Sassenach ...ye ken how I've always talked about how fate in some strange, mysterious way brought us together?" Claire slowly nodded in response, unsure where he was going with this. "Weel, to this day, I still dinnae ken how it all works. This may sound mad. But with everything that's led to here and now, I firmly believe some force, unknown or known, has had a hand in bringing us together. And every day, I thank whoever is listening up there for bringing ye into my life." 

Her heart swelled with love. "Jamie, you don't have to do this," she said, laying a hand on his cheeks. "I know what's in your heart."

"No." He took the coin from the box and pulled something from the back of his jeans. "I want to do this." Whatever he reached out for inside his pocket, he kept it hidden in his hand. He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. "Loving ye is the best part of my life, Sassenach. You brought light and colour in, and for that, I'll always be grateful. Ye brought me back to life when I didnae even realise I'd stopped breathing. From the moment I first laid eyes on ye, I wanted ye for keeps. I want to be yers and for ye to be mine, and I promise I will always try my utmost best to keep ye happy."

"I've always been yours. And always will be. My move to the Highlands should have made that clear enough for you."

"Aye, I had no doubt about that. But I ken that stubborn, practical side of ye will try to argue what I'm about to ask ye is too soon." When he opened his hand, she gasped. On the middle of his palm was a three-diamond stone engagement ring with two smaller ones flanking a bigger brilliant round centre. Emotions tangled in her throat as he raised the one pound coin with his other hand. "If ye, like me, believe destiny ...the universe ...yer da or whatever ye wish to call it ...conspired to bring us together, I'm gonnae dare ye to leave it up to fate with this one-pound coin I have here."

"Wot?" Now she was utterly confused.

"I'm proposing a coin toss. The rules are simple, and it only takes five flips. If it comes up heads each time ... ye'll wear my ring. We dinnae have to marry right away. We can wait a day or ten years. Either way, I want ye to know I plan on loving ye straight through eternity. If the coin comes up tails, weel ..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I guess I have no choice but to wait until ye're ready."

She looked down at Jamie's opened palms, a coin in one hand and a ring in the other. He was doing this so she wouldn't feel pressured to marry but feel secure enough in the knowledge he'd always be waiting for her no matter how long. She squeezed her eyes shut and crammed her fingers to her lips to keep a cry from escaping. She was not interested in tossing a coin to prove they're meant for each other. What they felt for one another wasn't based on fate or luck. They'd met, fallen in love, and now they're taking their relationship to the next level. It's something that happened all the time. They may not love each other the easy way, but their hearts were in the right place every single time. They're rock solid, and she didn't need a flipping coin to tell her that. 

When she opened her eyes, a sound broke free in her chest. "Bloody hell, Jamie! Just stop with all this silliness, and put the damn ring on my finger," she hiccuped, giving him her hand. 

Jamie's shoulders drained of tension as his breath released in a rush. "Did ye just agree to marry me?"

Hot tears rolled down Claire's cheeks as she let out a watery laugh and fell back on the bench, right where her father had proposed to her mother all those years ago. Though it felt right, a slight uneasiness tried to sneak in when she remembered what Annalise had told her about Jamie's doubt about having children of his own. She searched his face, and all she could see was his love and promise to make her happy. Isn't everything supposed to fix itself when two people are in love? She made a decision not to bring it up ...for now. "Yes, Jamie. I did. I want to marry you too," she breathed as she watched him take her hand to slip the ring on her finger. When she gazed at it, she could only make out the twinkle of diamonds through her tears.

"Christ, I cannae believe ye ditched the coin toss. and agreed to marry me ...just like that."

"I don't need the coin toss to know we're meant for each other," she pointed out. "And you shouldn't either."

He gave her a boyish lopsided grin, one that he was very aware always had an effect on her. Damn! He rose to his full height, tugging her along with him. "Ye have no idea how happy you made me, Sassenach," he breathed, pulling her roughly against him and grazing her earlobe with his teeth. "Now, for the love of God, give yer man his engagement kiss."

Committing this moment to her memory, she slipped her hands under his top to feel the warmth of his skin. Standing on her tiptoes, she tipped her head back and laid a soft kiss on his lips. She smiled when his chest and stomach muscles strained and swelled underneath her touch. "Is that better?" she whispered.

Jamie muttered a curse under his breath, rolling his forehead side to side against hers. "Sassenach, I said kiss. Ye cannae touch me like that when there are people that could be watching us from the house."

"Why?"

"Jesus!" Jamie's exhale came out hot against her forehead. "Why? How am I going to walk back in there in this condition? Ye look at me so innocently when ye ken well I feel a little crazy right now. It wouldnae take much to get me going. Look at what ye do to me."

They both dropped their attention to the bulge straining against his jeans. "I see," she whispered with a shrug, drawing away. "Too bad. I guess we just have to have that celebratory kiss later ...when we're alone."

Looking pained, his hand dug into her hair, pulling her back in, in his hold. "Not too fast." His lips swept over hers before his tongue dipped inside to give her his own brand of teasing. Seconds ticked by while he tantalised with a deep kiss, causing a moan to pass her throat. She felt the shudder that passed through him, the ecstasy of this second, his love, the pressure of his lust pressing between their bodies, the awe and gratitude. It was their own private celebration, drowning everything else out and ...

A throat cleared gruffly. Jamie stiffened and dragged his lips from her mouth, pink blooming on the tips of his ears. Just beyond his shoulder, she saw uncle Lamb averting his eyes and rocking on his heels. 

"Uncle Lamb?" Claire croaked. "Don't tell me you're on this as well?"

"Trust me, sweetheart, you're not the only one who's been bushwhacked."

"Bushwhacked?"

"I guess this is the part where we say, congratulations." Willie's voice cut through her surprise at seeing her uncle, causing her head to drop forward on Jamie's chest. As the reality of their surroundings slowly began to encroach, Claire somehow found the willpower to unwind her arms from Jamie's neck and turn around. Three pair of eyes were trained on them with a mixture of amusement and joy for their happiness and mild annoyance from her uncle.

"Aye, we're officially engaged," Jamie announced, his arm going around her waist to pull her back against his chest. He pressed his lap to her backside to let her know the situation in his pants. 

Claire stifled a giggle and put on her best smile, fully aware of Jamie's mild discomfort. "We are, indeed," she grinned, leaning back to kiss the underside of Jamie's jaw. "I must admit, I never saw this coming." She lifted her hand to show them the ring.

Annalise whooped and clapped her hands. "Well, this call for a celebration then," she beamed, skipping towards them. "Let me see it." 

Squeezing her hip, Jamie let her go. She smothered the urge to laugh when she supposed that probably nothing loses a man's erection faster than a sight of her uncle Lamb's tetchy demeanour. Dismissing her silly thoughts, Claire splayed her hand out for her friend. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"Stunning. I'm so happy for you." She looked Claire in the eye and spoke for her ears only. "Did you tell him what we talked about earlier?"

"Which one?"

"Babies. Hello?"

Claire sighed. She didn't want to lie to her friend, nor did she want to taint the occasion by bringing the subject of future babies up. There was a time and place for that and now wasn't appropriate. She hugged Annalise briefly and spoke into her ears. "Everything is going to be fine."

Annalise brows furrowed, but when she saw how happy Claire was, she immediately dropped the subject. "If you say so."

"I know so," Claire smiled, pulling away from her friend at the sight of Willie approaching. "Now, scoot and celebrate with us."

Annalise did an eye-roll and let Willie through.

"Congratulations!" Willie broke in, raising the bottle of Moët in his hand and giving Jamie a high-five with the other. He dropped a kiss on Claire's cheek and grinned. "Welcome to the family, Claire. My not so wee bràthair doesnae mess about, does he?"

"Thank you," she smiled. "And, no, he certainly doesn't."

Jamie received a back slap and a hug from his brother while Claire watched her uncle slowly approached them, shoulders strained, and hands shoved in his pocket. Something was amiss. Quentin was avoiding her eyes, and she noticed his face was devoid of emotions. She strode to his side. "Seriously, uncle?" she hissed, disbelief colouring her tone.

Quentin ignored her. "You sneaky piece of shit!" he barked at Jamie. 

"Oh, dear God, here we go again," Willie muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Again?" Claire gasped as she noticed Annalise and Willie's eyes ricocheting between Jamie and Quentin. She was about to scold her uncle when his face broke into a grin. She held her breath and stilled in anticipation.

"Congratulations, son! I couldn't think of a better man for my niece!"

"About time ye realised it, ol' man," Jamie grinned.

"Who are you calling an old man?" Quentin ground out in mock displeasure.

Annalise, Willie and Claire gaped at Quentin.

"What?" Quentin chuckled. "If I'd come right out and told Jamie right at the start, I couldn't think of a better man for my niece, he would never have fought for her the way he did."

"What kind of logic is that?" Claire fumed.

Jamie crossed his arms. "Oh, this is gonnae be gold."

"It's a men thing, sweetheart and complicated," Quentin muttered, giving Jamie a dirty look.

"I'll try and keep up. Explain."

Quentin released an impatient sigh. "Men in your generation have none to too little backbone. Jamie had to realise he was good enough and strong enough for you. And you had to make him realise it. That's the top and bottom of it."

Her uncle was right, Claire thought. A few weeks ago, Jamie wouldn't have thought himself capable of coming this far with his condition. She might have been instrumental in pulling him out of the darkness where he'd lived for so long, but all the hard work had come from Jamie.

When Quentin took her hand and pulled her into an awkward embrace, she relaxed. "I'm not going to be around forever, darling," he said gruffly before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were in good hands if anything happened to me." He glanced at Jamie. "I had an inkling when Claire first told me about you, and we talked for the first time on that video chat, that your relationship was serious. The second I found out Henry's connection to you, I had to delve more into your history. When you started talking about fate and all that tripe, I didn't believe in it ...but these last few days, after spending time together, you made me believe in you. I saw something in you." 

Quentin gestured toward the double-headed one-pound coin Jamie had left on the bench. "So when you tried to extract a blessing for this proposal after dragging me here under the pretence of a boys' weekend, I thought I'd have a little laugh and grant it by giving that coin Henry gave me and challenging you to leave it to fate ...without telling you it was double-headed. As you know, I was still a bit miff with you for not letting me into this big secret thing. But you surprised me when you agreed to take the challenge and told me you'd leave it to Claire to toss it. You really believe in all that destiny nonsense, don't you?" He shook his head in disbelief. 

Jamie just shrugged and smiled.

"Uncle Lamb! How could you?" Claire huffed indignantly, crossing her arms across her chest. "For your information, we didn't toss the coin even if Jamie suggested it."

Quentin's eyes widened. "You didn't?"

"I don't need a damn coin to make my decisions, for God's sake."

Jamie slipped his arm across her shoulder and squeezed her. "It doesnae matter, Sassenach. All that matters is he gave us his blessings and that we love each other."

"I know," Claire whispered before glaring at her uncle. "As for you, no more tricks up your sleeves, are we clear?"

"Jamie caught me off guard with this marriage thing. Can you blame me for what I did?"

"Uncle Lamb! That's not the issue here." She pegged him down with a look. "You've been giving Jamie a hard time from day one. No more tricks and no more taunting Jamie. I love you both, and I want you to get along. Promise me."

Quentin raised his hands in the air before placing them on his chest. "Promise. Jamie's read me the riot act earlier today, and you're speaking to the converted. And I meant what I said when I told him I couldn't think of a better man for you. Honestly, I'm happy for both of you." He opened his arms to her. "Forgive me, sweetheart?"

With a roll of her eye, she stepped away from Jamie's hold and threw herself in her uncle's arms. "You know I'll always forgive you," she mumbled against his neck, hugging him close. "Despite you being such a grouch, I want you to know I am happy that you're here."

"Me too, sweetheart, me too," he said gruffly. "Now, shall we start the celebration? I'm parched and starving." 

"About time," Annalise chirped with a little dance and fist pump.

Laughing, Willie popped the cork on a bottle of Moët while Jamie handed out the crystal flutes. 

Claire watched as their drinks were being poured and smiled. She said a silent prayer for her parents and thanked them. There were so many things to be grateful for. Life was good, and her heart was full. She was moving to the Highlands, start her career as a writer and marry the man she loved. This was what she wanted, and she was prepared for this whatever may come their way. Her only wish was, her parents could be here today, so her father could see what a fine lad Jamie had grown up to be.

Her attention was brought back to the present when Annalise nudged her with her foot. With champagne finally in everyone's hand, they all raised their glasses to their new beginning.

"To Jamie and Claire," Willie began.

"To your happiness," Annalise added.

"To family and friends," Jamie beamed.

"To what's next," Claire breathed.

"To my next meal," Quentin snorted. "Now drink up, and let's go. I'm bloody starving."

..........

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" Jamie asked Quentin once they were alone, and the rest of the party walked ahead of them on their way back to the cottage from the pub. "About believing in me and being happy for us?"

Quentin glanced at him. "I always say what I mean, son. Best get used to it," he grumbled.

"Right ..." They walked in silence, watching Claire, Annalise and Willie as they began singing the chorus of Living on a Prayer for the umpteenth time. "About that double-headed one pound coin ..." Jamie began.

"That was a clever touch, huh?" Quentin grinned. "Would have come handy for you if Claire had decided to use it. You still got it?"

"Aye." Jamie handed him the coin. "By the way, I have a confession to make."

"What's that?" Quentin asked, taking the coin and shoving it in his pocket.

"The reason why I readily agreed to that coin toss you suggested earlier is that ...Harry gave me one too." Jamie dug his own coin from his pocket and showed it to Quentin. "I knew the coin ye were giving me was double-headed."

Quentin stopped to look at him. "You suggested the coin toss to Claire even though you knew it was double-headed?"

"Aye."

"If Claire had agreed, would you have used the double-headed or the normal coin?"

"The double-headed, of course," Jamie admitted.

"What about all your bloody talk of fate and destiny and all that?"

Jamie shrugged. "Oh, I still believe in fate, but I couldnae take the chance. I love yer niece too much. I think ye would be inclined to agree that the universe has an odd sense of humour, and I needed to cover my arse just in case it decided to turn against me." 

Quentin scowled. "Is it too late to change my mind about you?" 

"Aye." 

They watched as Annalise and Willie, doubled with laughter, latched on to Claire's arms after she stumbled onto the curb.

"Well, then," Quentin grunted. "What the hell are you doing here still babbling to me? Go join the fun."

Jamie shook his head. "Oh no, ye don't, spoilsport. Ye're here to have some fun too. Ye're joining in."

"I'm too old for all that. Now go and leave me in peace."

Jamie narrowed his gaze at him. "Is that really what ye want? To be left in peace?"

Quentin blew out an exasperated breath, but Jamie caught the sheen in his eyes and the smile he was battling. "No. I want you to get used to me showing up," he growled.

Jamie pretended to sound annoyed so as not to embarrass the older man. "Fine, as long as it doesn't involve ye decking me."

"Deal."

..........

Jamie looked up from the mock children's book, smiling when he heard Claire doing her nightly routine in the bathroom. The book disguising his marriage proposal had been Annalise idea. As soon as she'd heard of his intention from Willie, she'd made the suggestion, desperately wanting to play a part in surprising Claire. She even had him adding a few of his own words to the poem. How Annalise's friend managed to illustrate and have the book printed on such short notice, he had no idea. But he must admit, The Unicorn and the Lioness book had been a nice touch.

Claire walked into the bedroom, looking fresh in his t-shirt, her face still flushed from the champagne earlier. He watched her shiver a little, rubbing her arms to generate heat. The sight of her bare legs kicked his heart rate up a notch. He smiled and drew the bedcover back in an invitation to get in.

As she snuggled under the crook of his arm, she smiled when she saw the book on his lap. "I never got to read the ending," she said with a yawn, her arm sliding across his waist.

He kissed the crown of her head and pulled her in closer. "Shall I read it for ye?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll start from where you left off."

"Alright."

Jamie got comfortable and cleared his throat. "Here goes ..."

 So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift 

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

 Claire giggled. "You got me right there."

"I know," Jamie chuckled, turning the page. "Now wheesht and let me finish."

 Confused and bewildered

That it's not a ring

It became apparent

She wanted the real thing

  So still on his one knee 

He uttered the plea: 

"My dearest lioness, 

Will you marry me?"

  He felt his heart beating 

Right out of his chest. 

He could do nothing but wait 

And hope she'd say YES.

 When he ended and a few moments of silence ensued, Claire twisted from her position and looked up at him. "That's it?"

"Aye," Jamie replied, handing her the book. "Louise said you're a writer, so she left a blank page for you to write the ending."

"Is that so?" she said, laughing, reaching for her specs. "Well, let's see what I can do."

Jamie grabbed a pen from the nightstand and handed it to her.

After adjusting the pillow, she sat up and began scribbling, reading the words out loud as she wrote.

 When she finally answered 

He could not stop grinning 

Because he knew, in his heart, 

This was just The Beginning!

 Claire closed the book and took off her specs. "How was that?" she asked, sliding back under the covers.

"It was good, but I'm left hanging. I'm dying to know what happened after?" 

"Hmmm ..." She climbed on top of him and nipped his lips with her teeth. "They celebrated with their loved ones, ate a lot of food and drank too much champagne." She drew circles on his chest. "Although I have a sneaking suspicion, their night is not over yet." 

Jamie flipped her on her back, making her yelp. He scanned her face for a few heartbeats. "Ye're absolutely right. He's gonnae tell her how happy she's made him," he whispered, his words thick with emotions. "And show her in so many ways how much he loves her." 

She blinked away the tears blearing her vision and smiled up. "Well, he's got all night to prove he's not just a bunch of talk."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "A bunch of talk, huh? He's a big man, Sassenach, and he makes love twice as long."

She slipped her hand past the waistband of his boxer brief and gripped him hard, making him catch his breath. "We'll see about that," she challenged. 

He rewarded her by grabbing her hand and slowly pressing his hips into her. "You're on, Sassenach, you're on," he groaned into her mouth before silencing her with his kisses.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, apologies for the delay in the final chapter of this series. As some of you already know, if you read my Tumblr posts, I've had a bad reaction to my vaccination. Though I feel a little better, I don't feel quite right yet hence the delay of this update. I'm easily tired and have been writing sporadically, depending on my energy level. So, after this chapter, I will take a long rest before starting the next series.

Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone for the kudos and comments on AO3 and on my Tumblr and those who left best wishes in my inbox. I appreciate them all from the bottom of my heart. Though I haven't replied individually, please know I enjoy reading them and look forward to what you have to say.

Thirdly, as you may have gathered, this is the final chapter of this series. There will be a third series. When? I have no time frame yet as I will need time to recuperate. If you wish to be updated, you can always subscribe to the WONDERWALL series by clicking here. Or follow me on my Tumblr site here. 

Lastly, I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter. It's the longest chapter I've ever written, with 11560 words. If this update is all over the place, I blame it on my bad days. I personally think it's alright, but I can never be sure. I believe my reaction to the vaccination has dulled me a bit. So, thank you all from the bottom of my heart: for your continued interest, readership, kudos and comments. I look forward to reading your remarks and constructive criticism on this latest update. Kudos to you all, my friends, and be safe. Keep the positive vibe rolling. Much love. X

 PS I will compile a Masterlist for WONDERWALL and post it on my Tumblr site, either tomorrow or in the next few days, depending on how I feel.

[chocolate-parfait]

can I suggest a headcanon for arthur, theo and comte ( or dazai ) reacting to their selectively mute s/o speaking for the first time? ( maybe even singing? ) you can decide if you want a scenario for one of them and what mc sounds like, wether shes soft spoken or has a mature voice~ whatever you feel comfortable with >:0 👌 — have a nice day ! ♡

I made some research to write this but tell me if anything's inaccurate or wrong! I'll fix it right away

Selectively mute MC - ikevamp headcanons (Arthur, Theo & Comte)

Arthur

Arthur's a bit suspicious when he sees how uncomfortable you seem to be on your first night. No normal person would feel completely at ease, that's for sure, and yet the way your gaze flickers around the room, the way you fidget with your own hands, the look of pure anxiety on your pretty features, they're all blatant red flags for him, though he decides to let you be. It's your first night, after all, for all he knows you could just be terribly shy, right?

He started piecing the signs together after a couple days when your voice was yet to be heard. The only thing they knew was your name, which you wrote on a piece of paper after Vincent's many soft encouragements.

The English writer had tried flirting with you a couple times, but after being met with the same indicators of discomfort as night one, he decided to step back and watch from the sidelines, occasionally helping others translate whatever you were trying to tell them with your body language.

Selective mutism had been diagnosed around 1870 for the first time, and although it was still a relatively new medical condition, he still was a couple decades more experienced when it came to medicine. After realizing that was your case, he moved to inform everyone in the mansion so that they could adjust their behaviors and avoid causing you too much distress.

Eventually Arthur becomes the person you spend most time with in the whole house; you can feel he genuinely cares and, despite the voices you had heard about his incorrigible attitudes and questionable habits, you start appreciating all the efforts he puts into making sure you're always comfortable and understood (his efforts were very much succeeding, by the way).

On one particular night, you decided to bring some coffee to his room, a silent gesture of support in his regards, but once you entered the bedroom, he turned to look you in the eyes and you saw his beautiful blue orbs, usually alight with mischief, now dark and wavering, surrounded by puffy, red skin. He had been crying. Despite all his best efforts to hide it, everyone knew the writer had his own ghosts from the past haunting him, but seeing him so wretched and broken made your heart squeeze in sympathy and pity.

Seeing your worried expression Arthur immediately turned the other way, letting out a self deprecating laugh as he thought this was probably not helping with your case at all. "Ah- D-don't worry about me! I just got some dust in my eyes. Clumsy old me-!" You set down the tray on his desk and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"A-arthur, you can tell me. I'm here for you."

His heart almost flew out of his chest as his wide eyes stared at you in disbelief. He abruptly stood up and had to stop himself from hugging you and twirling you around, grabbing your shoulders instead. "MC, you just spoke right now, didn't you?!". He was so shocked he completely forgot about his troubles and spent minutes fawning over you. He didn't realize he was coming off as too strong until he noticed your voice getting quieter and quieter. He then apologized and took a moment to cool himself off.

From then on, your relationship goes through revolutionary changes as he finally gets to learn more about your past, tastes and personality. Each little detail makes him more and more interested in what had been a complete mystery to everyone for days. As the writer of Sherlock Holmes he certainly couldn't let this one chance fly out of the window now, could he?

If his brain malfunctioned when he heard your voice for the first time, it is pretty accurate to say that he almost passed away for the second time when he heard your laugh! It's the best and most effective antidepressant he's tried in a long time, and the more open you become, the more the look in your eyes starts to brighten up, a worthy rival to the breathtaking smile that graces your lips every now and then.

Your voice is sweet, calm and soft, and Arthur feels as if he's floating on a cloud whenever he hears it. It isn't loud, either, making everything you say seem like the most intimate secret one could whisper to a close friend. On the other hand, your laugh is like the clear and light tinkling of a bell. Each time you let out even the smallest of chuckles his cheeks flush with a rosy blush, earning him stares and teasing remarks from the closest fellow vampire in the room.

Slowly, he starts to see his reactions for what they are: sprouts of a new love. As time passes by, he realizes he wants to hear more and more of your voice. He wants to hear you whimper his name lost in overwhelming pleasure, he wants to hear all the sweet nothings and declarations of love you can offer him, comforting words, even gibberish and dark secrets. Everything that comes out of your mouth is like molten gold to him, and he wants it all to himself.

He starts bragging to others, though it does not take long before you're comfortable enough to grace them with the sound of what Arthur has come to love so much. On one side he's jealous because you've denied him the privilege of being the only one to hear your voice, but at the same time he's also extremely proud of you! You're finally happy and there's no more traces of anxiety and worry in your eyes whenever you're surrounded by the other vampires, and that's one of the most important milestones he's honored have witnessed by your side.

Theo

Let's just say that you and theo start off on the wrong foot. To say that you're frightened of him at first is an understatement, and you very much avoid him for as much as you can. He feels guilt strangling his throat whenever he sees your quivering form running away from him, and after noting that you behaved similarly with everyone and still hadn't uttered a word in days made him worry even more.

Arthur's the one who comes up with a diagnosis, and with that everyone changes their manners and speech to make you feel more at ease. Theo, just like his blue haired friend, is actually pretty good at reading body language so he has no particular struggles when it comes to your needs. Unfortunately, he's not so smooth in regulating his tone and words, which often come out a little to harsh. Vincent often reprimands him for it, and he can't help but feel even worse when he realizes he's probably ruining your whole stay.

He starts distancing himself, and you gradually start sticking by the local angel's side, never leaving him for even a second; his vibes are so pure and soothing that they help you out with your anxiety and symptoms. Needless to say, he's also very understanding and is not at all bothered to speak in your stead. This leads to Vincent being the first one to hear your voice, and he's without doubt elated, but he also wishes for you to be able to socialize with the others, too. Theo in particular.

After days and days of the artist's endless rants on how good his little brother actually is, your image of the gruff man has been replaced by that of a soft hearted puppy. Too bad that this soft puppy looks like a hungry hunt dog more than a small, soft cloud of love.

Ironically enough, what brings you and Theo to a new stage of your basically nonexistent relationship is King. In the dog's presence he lets his guards down and turns into a loving owner of a very good and friendly golden nugget, subsequently becoming more approachable. Besides, everyone knows how helpful animals are in fighting anxiety and social disorders! And on the advice of Arthur, he invites you to his daily walk with his dog, hoping your fear will melt away with time.

He's a stubborn man, and even when such delicate issues come his way, he has no intention of giving up. No matter how much time it'll take him, he believes he's going to convince you he's not that bad as you first thought. Why is he trying so hard though? Well, not only it's something that stems from Vincent's care for you, but it's also something for your own good. If you were to avoid him for a whole month, you'd get nothing out of it, and a constant lingering sense of panic would follow you pretty much anywhere; but living for a whole month in those conditions is a no-no for Theo. He has no intention of uselessly make you suffer like that, and as he reminds himself of that, his willpower strengthens his determination to search for a common ground between you two.

Albeit slowly, you start getting less tense around him, and the fright fades away bit by bit with each walk in the woods with the Dutch art dealer and the excited bundle of golden hair. It's a lengthy process that takes many days, but Theo finally knows his efforts aren't vain when he hears you coo at the golden retriever. "King... you're such a good boy.." You say with with the warmest smile he had ever seen painted on someone's face as you patted his canine friend's head lovingly. In that moment he wished he could frame the scene and hang it up in his room next to his brother's paintings.

He didn't know whether it was the emotion of hearing your voice for the first time or the implications that told him you weren't that scared of him anymore, but he became hyper aware that his wasn't a normal heartbeat. Unsteady and crazy like that of a lovestruck fool. Was this all it took him to fall head over heels for someone? Or was this a process that had started way before?

It still takes you some time to be fully able to speak complete sentences in his presence, but once you do, he's overcome with one of the greatest feelings of satisfaction he had ever felt in his two lives, and he can definitely agree that everything was worth the wait and the labour.

Just like Arthur, your laugh almost makes him fly through the roof, but what turns him into a formless puddle of mushy feelings and amazement is your singing voice. The first time he hears you intone a medley to him he turns to stone and just stays there, unmoving. He has an eye for finding hidden talents, but oh God was your singing unexpected. His feeling may be out of place here, but he's so, so glad to have your singing all to himself. He finds the act extremely intimate, and for how much he may believe he doesn't deserve it, he cannot deny the positive effects it has on him

Sometimes, when you're talking to him, you can see him turn his face away and smile to himself like an idiot. In those times, he's thinking about how far you two came, and how glad he is to have persisted as much as he did.

Comte

Comte emanates a slightly threatening and imposing aura but it can also be calm and placid, like his voice. First and foremost he's a gentleman, but he sometimes comes off as very intimidating to those who are not used being around such strong presences like his. Luckily, he's a very patient man, and you can feel no judgement nor malice coming from him. He's lived a long, long life, and he knows better than overstepping people's boundaries and making fun of their insecurities.

When with him, you can do things at your own pace! If you don't feel like talking then he's totally okay with it; take your time to find your own way and pace of doing things, he'll gladly help if you ever ask him (with gestures or, once you're closer, with words).

The panic you feel in his presence dissolves gradually; there are no particular events that cause a turning point in your relationship, it just happens. Despite living in such a big mansion, avoiding all life forms is pretty much impossible, so you happen to share some interactions every now and then. Sometimes it's an afternoon tea, others it's just him making small talk as you clean his room (he's either talking to himself or asks answers you can nod to if you feel more comfortable). He immediately makes it clear that he doesn't expect nor want to pressure you in delivering any answer, and if you ever happen to feel too overwhelmed he excuses himself and leaves the room.

One day as you were dusting the shelves in his office, he casually says:"The weather's really nice today." But your head doesn't move in assent, instead he receives a shocking reply despite the ordinariness of the topic. "It really is... T-there's not a cloud in the sky, either." A shocked expression momentarily appears on his features, soon replaced by a wide smile as he hums back in agreement.

He doesn't let it show but he's utterly in love with your voice. It's an addiction but he still wants to give you enough space and time to get comfortable with the idea of speaking around him, so he tries to keep himself in check all the time.

It's when he hears you singing that he can't help but feel greedy, and the rare sight of Comte's blushing cheeks greets you for the first time ever. It's his weak point, use it as you may deem ;)

(okay but jokes aside WHY would you ever want to use it against him, he'd build a pyramid with a butter knife while doing a backflip if you asked him to tbh,, the man is Whipped.)

Everything you do has a meaning and a significance, so he's always taking in even the smallest piece of information you may subconsciously slip his way. Seeing how you trust him enough to lower your guards about him makes him all the more appreciative of the bond you two share. For this reason, if you ever want to try and get over your anxiety, he'll be there to walk with you from the first to the last step of your journey.

His favorite thing is when he's holding you in his arms, nuzzled against his chest while he dozes off to your heavenly humming. It makes him feel like a prince living his happy ever after in a fairytale and he couldn't be more grateful.

[yanderecandystore]

may i please get a small fic about the loveshrooms?

I didn't expect anyone to like the idea, but I'm so glad you did!

I was going to bring a Yan Bakugou into the mix but- I felt like I could end up disappointing you in a way so I'll just leave it as a ambiguous character, what do you think?

Also, love shrooms is actually a really good name lol!

TW/Tags: loss of sanity and mentions of depressive thoughts // fungal contamination and mentions of diseases (and quarantine) // none gender specific (neither the reader or the character mentioned have their gender assigned) // touch starving // victim blaming mentality.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

In need of help [Yandere!Virus/Fungus x Reader - Short Fanfiction]:

They were laying in their bed, wondering what the hell was happening with their body. It's been a week since they started to feel this way, endless headaches, hot burning skin temperature yet a feeling of always being cold dominated them, as if they were naked in the middle of a blizzard.

One day they started feeling dizzy while they were at work, so their boss has told them to go back home and rest, and they haven't gone back to their jobs in a full week because of some random sickness they got!

That's what they thought back then, they thought that this was all just a little flu that had ruined their days, but no, it turned out to be something completely more different than that.

They have heard about some sort of disease outbreak happening in their town, something that was still fairly new and mysterious to even the highest of doctors and world leaders. It was so sudden, out of nowhere people started to show symptoms of some sort of new illness, something that develops slowly yet quietly.

The contaminated would feel all that they were feeling right now, if not worse, since a lot of contaminated have shown some weird aggressive behavior randomly. Those that were contaminated were told to limit their contact with other people, some were privileged enough to be able to stay in hospitals receiving professional care, but they couldn't do that, they didn't want to believe that they were contaminated by some stupid looking fungus.

They just… Really, really didn't want to see a doctor, even if the symptoms are getting worse and worse, something forced them to keep their mouth shut. They didn't want to go to a hospital, they didn't want any doctors or scientists experimenting on them, they didn't want to be trapped inside that pearly white hell.

They heard rumours about servers experiments being done inside each hospital available, which caused the contaminated to get even more desperate to get out of there.

The thing is, no one knows if the contaminated were the ones who had decided that they didn't want to stay there, or if something else was dictating that decision.

Apparently, the cause of such distress was a little mushroom species that have only been discovered after the first incident happened. An incident where the first contaminated to fully develop the parasite had attacked someone in the streets (well, allegedly attacked, since there is no proof of the guy actually hurting someone, but it doesn't matter now since he was eliminated before he could attack someone). After that the contamination had spread wildly, it was as if the existence of such a dangerous thing had just been announced and out of nowhere, the damn thing had taken a hold of people's lives.

In one second everything was fine, and then in the next they were stuck at home, feeling hopeless. At least they don't have to be the lab rat of some crazy doctor and scientist. Until now, it has been pretty easy to hide the fact they were contaminated, key words being "until now", guess what happened?

"- Fucking- itchy fungus." They yelled as they continued to scratch their itchy arms, there were visible pink and red blotches around them, and on top of that they were now hurting because of how much force they were using on their itchy arms.

They have learned that it takes too many weeks for it to develop marks around the contaminated bodies, and that the mushrooms spread and thrive in cold habitats.

And guess who was the idiot that has come back from hiking in a snowy forest about two weeks ago? Yeah that 's right! This imbecile right here!

"- Ugh, what the hell do you want from me?" It's been three days since they started talking with the fungus growing inside them, since they noticed that indeed, the fucking thing comprehends human communication somehow.

Or maybe they were just insane.

This was basically an everyday routine, the mushroom would get agitated, they would ask it what it wanted, and in a brilliant moment of concentration they would remember exactly what the mushroom wanted.

"- Pizza again? Come on, you're going to make me spend all of my savings on some lackluster pizza?" They said while looking at their colorful arms, they needed to cover them if they wanted to see anyone else soon.

You see, ever since they started to stay inside their house to not spread the contamination, they have been ordering pizza at a very terrible place that sold only the most boring pizza they could have ever eaten. No flavor at a cheap prize!

It seemed like the stupid fungus had taken a liking to the terrible taste of nothingness, so they had decided to obliged with the fungus wishes.

"- Stupid parasite, you're lucky I can't beat you for making me waste so much in daily deliveries." They continued to be grumpy about it as they put some clothes on, normally they love to spend their time alone naked, and apparently the fungus also agreed with the decision. What? It's their apartment, they can be naked if they want.

They took their phone and typed the number to the pizzeria, well, at least they never take too long to deliver their mediocre pizza.

"- Hi, it's Anthony's Pizzeria, how can I help you?" They heard a familiar voice come from the other side of the call.

Oh.

"- What-!" They yelped, almost causing the call to accidentally end right there and then.

It's you, it's your voice! They know it it's, they are sure of it!

"- … Uhn, hey, are you okay-"

"- I'm f-fine, sorry!" They have interrupted your question, they were so caught up about your voice that they forgot to order the pizza.

Oh but your voice! Your voice was so different in the call than in real life, it's so… Interesting! Yeah, that's surely the word they were looking for!

They have called so many times yet this was the first time you were the one to pick up! They guess that because of the contamination and quarantine stuff going on, they were low on staff and you were the one receiving the orders.

After all, you were the only person that worked there that would deliver their pizza every single time. It became such a normal thing that you two even know each other's names!

[Y/N], it's such a beautiful name, it fits the owner. Although they think you're pretty unlucky to have to work at a terrible place and also do deliveries to an unwelcoming neighborhood.

That's the reason why you're the one to always bring their pizza, it's because you're the only worker that they are willing to risk in such a terrible place. Fortunately, their only client around this area is them.

When they were about to finish their order, they asked if you were the one that was going to bring the pizza.

"- Yeah, it is me. You know, low on staff and all, why do you ask?" You ask them with that welcoming voice of yours. A hint of happiness graced your tone, you were happy that it was them ordering again.

Although you still think that their obsession with mediocre pizza is a little concerning, you ended up forming some sort of friendship with them. An odd one for sure, but you're still happy about it.

When you first met them, they would always give you some really scary vibes. They were so, well, cold and closed off. Never smiling, never giving tips, always in a terrible mood, etc.

But recently, they started to treat you with so much respect, even joking about your job with you. The first time you saw them smile, you thought you were seeing a completely different person.

You're still glad you found this new version of them. They look happier and you felt good for them. Maybe they have found their own happiness.

To hear your confirmation was the most exciting thing they could have heard all day! They were sulking in this disgusting room all day, yet hearing that you're coming makes them feel alive!

They can't even hide their excitement, you can hear them being happy and giggly over the idea of you coming over. Even if technically you're only coming there to deliver them their order and all.

When the call ends, they soon are brought back to reality. When they were talking to you, they felt like they were in the best place on Earth, yet when they looked around their apartment they could only observe the clues of a disgusting creature living in this dirty ass place without ever cleaning it, not even once.

It's a depressing sight, yet they have learned to deal with it. It was normal for them to be lazy and an absolute pig, although they are aware that even pigs are a lot cleaner than them.

They should at least take a shower before you come in.

And just as the idea of you being anywhere near them came into their mind, their personality had switched again, from a grumpy depressed loser to… to…

To whatever the hell they are right now!

Seriously, they were feeling like shit all day, yet at the moment the opportunity to see you comes up, they feel like their day it's already 100 times better!

They feel their heart pounding at an incredible passing, the water of the shower hitting their skin helping their temperature to cook down. They don't even feel so cold anymore, they feel- Powerful!

They feel better than the last time they saw you, which was yesterday, so it doesn't even make sense for them to miss your presence the way that they do, but still!

Apparently even the fungus seemed to be happier about this situation, as their arms weren't itchy at all and the headache they were feeling seemed to have stopped.

They thought the thing was only awaiting its meal, as all living creatures do when faced with the opportunity to get food without any efforts put into it.

It was as if the motive to actually fix a little bit of this place had suddenly appeared at the mention of your arrival! It was uncommon for them to do such a thing, even for a guest, and their neighbors can testify.

Not that they would want to be involved in their life either way, their neighbors know how unpleasant they can be, even to those that live near them.

To think your presence has such an impact on them and their life, even though they never experienced anything like this before, their sudden change in mood never really crossed their minds as being bad or unconventional. It just… Happens.

And- It doesn't feel bad at all.

Maybe this lonely loser is finally understanding the importance of healthy social interactions! Good for them?!

After getting out of the shower and putting their clothes back on, they straight up jump out of the bathroom to complete their next task, which was making their apartment seem a little more *pleasant", at least for someone that was looking at it from the other side of their door.

But before they could do much, their apartment bell rang and you called them from the other side of the door. You did something, however, that would soon be proven to be a bad decision.

You have decided to call them by their name instead of the usual "your pizza is here" or whatever the hell you used to scream so the customers could hear. You thought that you had spent enough time with them to be able to use their name in a friendly manner, which was nothing wrong with that, dearest! Is just that-

They haven't been able to hear people say their name in such a friendly way in a long, long time. It's both refreshing and terrifying how they craved that form of attention.

And what is just as terrifying is how fast they throw their body towards the door, like a desperate addicted trying to reach their dose of dopamine. But that comparison it's absurd, right? It has nothing to do with the current situation.

Oh no, wait-

"- [Y-Y/N]!? You came in e-earlier than I thought! How is everything going??" They would welcome you in, but the truth is that they haven't been able to finish all of the cleaning. Basically, they took all of the garbage that was in front of the door's view and put it deeper in their apartment.

Just like sweeping dirt under the rug, you were only able to see a moderately good looking apartment behind them, yet in reality, all of the dirty dishes and clothes that were previously laying around there, were now shoved under some tables in a desperate need to impress you.

Even if a little bit.

Because of how suddenly they opened the door and came into view, you got yourself a little spooked by the taller figure in front of you. They always looked pretty scary in your eyes, yet recently you started to notice that they have a softer side.

You can't help but associate them with big scary dogs, you guess that they only put some sort of facade to keep themselves appearing to be tough and strong and "scary". You can't lie that they got you pretty good the first time you met.

You answer them, telling how hard it has been to work in an awful pizzeria while the world is burning and a weird disease suddenly has been discovered out of nowhere. They tried their best to continue the small talk, yet it seemed like they didn't need to do much because soon enough you were babbling about your life.

They loved it, you were always so talkative, even to a complete stranger. They wanted to pay close attention to you and what you were saying yet they simply couldn't! Your presence was so overbearingly sweet that they thought they would have a heart attack!

I'm being serious though, their heart started to accelerate out of nowhere and a weird feeling started to arise inside their hearts. They felt so weird and uncomfortable because of the sudden sensations yet- It felt so good in a way.

They felt alive for once, they felt- They felt like they were capable of anything!

Yet they still felt like they needed something more than just… This, whatever the hell is giving them such a wonderful feeling. Could it really be you, the cause of such wonderful emotions to bloom?

Your skin looked so soft, your smile was so gentle even when you were focused on giving them their order, you looked like you cared for them so much that when you noticed their odd behavior you put your hand in their shoulder.

This one, simple little contact managed to get a hold of them and their thoughts, their breathing now way faster and frantic than before.

How long have they been without a human touch? They are pretty sure it wasn't long, yet they still feel… Shamefully needy.

They can't tell what's worse, trying to convince you that they were okay, or trying to convince themselves to not do something stupid. They didn't know what it was, but there was a suspicious feeling crawling up their spine, the feeling that if they didn't control themselves something bad could happen.

They lied of course, saying they were just- Dizzy and a little tired, that they were doing everything on auto pilot, and even if you end up believing them, the moment you take your hand away us the moment they regret not giving in to whatever odd urge they were having a couple of seconds ago.

You were soon about to leave, they didn't even notice that they were holding the pizza box and almost let it fall from their loose grip.

"- H-Hey, wait! [Y/N] I-" they sounded absolutely pathetic, they sounded desperate for your attention but at least it seemed like you didn't mind or simply didn't notice their tone of voice.

You were causing so much frustration yet you remained oblivious to their suffering.

"- Do you… Perhaps, want to hangout later? I-If you're not busy, of course…." They sounded like a teenager who just confessed their crush on someone, well, if they were trying in that situation, normally the other person would at least be aware of their feelings.

But no, of course they aren't and of course you only see their offer as a way to call you for a friendly date.

People sweet and naive like you used to get on their nerves, they used to ignore your type of person yet-

Here they are! Being pathetic and stuttering, the only good thing to come out of this interaction was that you accepted their offer.

At least you're kind enough to accept to meet this poor thing again in a more private scenario. Not in your daily "customer and worker" type of interaction.

And as your form goes away at each step you take, the intrusive thoughts start to come in again. Those thoughts, those pains from earlier, everything was starting to get back.

It really does seem like you're the cause for their problems. Their headaches, their low self-esteem thoughts, the stupid fungus itching their skin, all of that was your fault… Somehow.

In someway or another you were the one that would always show up in their dreams, in their intrusive thoughts. They closed the door to their apartment while slowly placing the pizza on their coffee table, since now their mind was starting to come up with the solution to their daily pains.

This is not about pizza, this is about you! About how you consume their mind, even when you aren't present.

Although, every time you're near them, they feel so much better, like all of their issues have gone away.

That 's it! You're not only the source of their problems, but also the solution! Oh, that 's perfect! They know exactly what they need to do to make sure you cure them.

Yeah… YEAH! YES! They won't need to suffer every day waiting for the next time to see you, they can simply have you by their side, right??!

Please, please tell them, please tell this mad person that you'll cure them of the same thing you contaminated them with!!

Please… They feel so, so cold and lonely. Their only company is a parasite who seems to agree with this person's mad, delusional thoughts.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[sw124]

[Lamia-Birdy-Bitty Daily life!16]

Hello my lamia lovers how you doing, good I hope. Sorry I haven’t posted a story in a while but somethings had come up. Work, life and ...I sadly got sick with Covid. Yep that’s right folks I contracted Covid and was held up in my house for a whole week. I’m gonna tell you what happened, don’t worry it wasn’t too bad. I did go to the hospital but only to get a test done.

[They had a drive through testing area]

So listen I’m gonna tell you my experience with it but not just that I seriously want to give some advice on owners who contract this condition but can stay home. If you can’t please go to the hospital immediately if things get serious, but this is more importantly going to show you how to handle this situation with your Lamia’s at your side or your little Bird bitty friends.

Ok, so start of my work week I’m feeling groggy, not surprising since in my neck of the woods it gets very, very cold in February. I live in the northern states where it gets very cold, so I go to work and things go by fast but I’m just tired. Next day though....well I lost my sense of smell and taste, that was the real kicker there. I called work told them this major symptom and let them know I’m going to get checked, they gave me some paid leave of covid to get tested and...after two days I got my results back and...it was positive.

So I called work and let them know, I then sat my boys down and told them I got Covid. Now my boys are smart and understand what Covid is and its affects on the body. But this doesn’t mean they weren’t without their concerns.

Nebula scoffed about it but....well given his attitude he was following me around making sure I didn’t do anything stupid. Mozart stuck by Nebula’s side but was making sure Neubla didn’t pull out feathers.

Tundra...oh that sweetie pie, lots of hugs for my leg and when I’d lay on the couch he’d rub my head. He’s such a sweetheart I swear.

Dante made me some tea and soup, problem was I felt so tired, exhausted and had a touch of nausea I didn’t want to eat but with some encouraging and lots of willing...I managed.

Unfortunately as strange as it seems Chip was hit the hardest with this news, poor baby actually got stressed, he wasn’t cracking jokes, he didn’t pull any pranks, worst was he didn’t eat anything..well not unless told to which is very rare. Just cause I was sick didn’t mean I didn’t notice, I got him to calm down by getting him to rest with me.

I had him bundle up with me in a blanket on my bed, have a nice tall glass of water nearby for us and have everyone watch TV together. I’m not sure why he got so stressed but then again not all Cornies will act the same. Some may be calm and collected and some will not, in my case Chip was one of those rare cases but thankfully having him rest near/on me he started calming down fast.

After a day or two I started feeling better, I could eat without feeling sick and by the third day I started getting my smell and taste back. Now just cause I got them back didn’t mean I was out of the woods, I was still under quarantine and I didn’t want to push my luck just cause I was feeling better. I continued resting but I did do some productive stuff such as wipe down any surface around my home I touched with disinfectant.

Hehe actually that was kinda fun cause my boys and I turned it into a bit of a game. How many surfaces are touched the most, apparently there’s a lot of surfaces..

But anyway we took it easy with some of the chores, kept cleaning to small things at least until we were sure I was in good health to do so.

[So you know I was being quarantined for 10 days]

I don’t know why he got so stressed but its understandable on why he’d be worried. When thinking about it now I feel the stress came from all the news on the TV about healthy adults...um...well we’re aware of the numbers by this point. So coupling that fact and me getting it really must have put his normally low stress levels on high.

After everything was said and done I sat all my boys down and had a talk with them about what happened. If anything like this happened again we’d set a plan out on what to do, this seemed to relax not only Chip but the rest of the boys too.

Now heads up everyone, I’m aware that the vaccine is out but I want everyone to know you should sit down with your babies (your Lamias) and have a talk with them about this whole debacle. I’m sure many of you had caught this condition before but this is for those who haven’t. I strongly advise you to talk to them and set up a plan if anything were to happen to you.

If not for you then for your Lamias piece of mind, their happiness and mental/physical health should be on your top priority list along with your own health and wellbeing.

[for adoptions please see @vex-bittys for Lamias but for bird bitties please see @coalition-aviary-bitty-adoption ]

[pettyrevenge-base]

Just desserts, Boss lady. Eat it, anytime.

Back in the 2010’s I was living in Louisiana and going to school. I got a job at a daycare with the understanding I was training to be the assistant manager, then later the manager. They had a really high rate of turnover for a daycare, they just couldn’t keep employees and didn’t know why. I have a lot of experience and training in childcare and have done a lot of managerial work within the field, like maintaining supplies, creating lesson plans and activities, checking time sheets, processing payments, etc. The owner was looking to hand over a lot of the day-to-day business, so that’s where I was supposed to come in.

The daycare that hired me was situated between the campus and my apartment, so it was also a convenient location. I could go to and from school to work, and vice versa. It seemed like it was going to be a decent place to work. I had the one year olds and I loved them to bits. It was easy to slip in the routine with the other teachers and the kids I had took to me very quickly. About a week in I ask about the training and my boss tells me I need to hit sixty days first. Okay, no biggie. They want to make sure I’ll stick around and not just use them for training/certs. So, I make it through the probationary period and there’s still no mention of training. The room with the older kids always smelled like pee, but when I brought it up they just dismissed it as a kid who had problems wetting himself. All the time, apparently. The two year old teacher was always on her phone playing games, the kids would run wild the entire time while she sat with her head down, not watching them. I brought that up, as well, and was told it wasn’t my business. The infant teacher was the only one that actually seemed to care and be invested in the kids, at all.

As much as that bothered me it was also stuff I knew I could fix because I had done it before at other places. If we could ever get to the actual fucking training, that is. I get only vague answers when I ask my boss about it, and it’s really starting to irk the furk out of me. I was  also getting REALLY GD tired of listening to my boss talk about the kids or their parents, calling one mom a slut because of how she dressed, or saying how weird this little boy in my room was. My room also shared a half wall with the kitchen, so when my boss was back there prepping breakfast or lunch I could hear everything she said. She was a newly single 55 yr old divorcee who’d just started to go out to clubs and drink again and pick up men. There’s nothing wrong with that, I mean get it, girl! More power to ya, but please stop talking about shaving your bombass cooch around my kids. She did this ALL THE TIME, on the phone, to other teachers, even parents, like they wanted to hear about the grown and sexy club she found last night or how she’s walking crooked from pulling a muscle in her crotch.

I stuck it out thinking, “Okay, I can do this, she’ll be gone most of the time anyway when I take over and I can implement some changes so she’s not running people off with her attitude.” So, one day I have a little boy (the same one she often tried to say was weird) who starts running a fever and has to go home. I call his parents and they tell me his grandparents are heading over to pick him up. He’s a very quiet little boy, never makes any waves or anything. His parents are absolutely precious. His grandparents come in and are just as sweet. So, they come in my classroom while my boss is preparing lunch. She’s talking to another teacher while I talk to the grandparents about his symptoms. All of a sudden we hear her talking about the little boy, how he stunk and ‘what else do you expect from *racial slur?’. The boy was middle eastern. I am stuck somewhere between absolutely mortified and thoroughly goddamn enraged, but I also have a bunch of little kids volleying for my attention and don’t want to scare them. I clear my throat as loudly as humanly fucking possible, but She. Keeps. Going, talking about the parents and how she was glad she didn’t have to deal with them right now, because somebody else was picking him up. I’m apologizing profusely to the grandparents at this point. I peak my head around the corner and tell her to shut up, then watch the couple leave with their grandson.

She comes out of the kitchen and says nothing at all, just walks straight by without a word. I get the kids to sleep, then go on my lunch break. Just as I return, I hear her on the phone in the office as soon as I walk in. She is telling the boy’s parents that I was the one in the kitchen talking about him, blaming every disgusting thing she said on me. Of all the nerve, the outright unmitigated gall, WHO tf does that?! I was heated.

I waited until the end of the day, walked in her office, and quit on the spot. I then reported a lot of the infractions and stuff I had seen that she never corrected, even though she was fully aware of the issues. Didn’t think about her again, until six months later....

I’m pulling through the Jack In the Box drive-thru and I hear a familiar voice on the speaker. Nah, I think, can’t be. I pull around and there my former boss is standing in the window wearing a drive-thru headset. This was funny for two reasons: 1) when I left she wished me luck flipping burgers (in return I wished her luck keeping the place afloat) and 2) she treated service people like absolute shit. Not enough ice in her drink? She’d call and complain. They forgot extra ketchup? Well, then she deserved free fucking food. Just an absolute Karen any time she had the chance.

I stop at the window and stare for a second. She looks straight through me at first. I gave her the money and said,  “Fancy meeting you here.”

She never acknowledges me, so I actually wondered if she recognized me. I asked, “You don’t remember me?” She put her hand on her hip and looked over the top of her glasses at me the way I had seen her do countless times when describing her sexploits from the previous night, and said, “No. SHOULD I?”

Damn, I figured, she really doesn’t know me? Buuuuuuut nope, she definitely remembered, because she then threw my change, coins included, at me in my truck, and asked, “Will that be all?”

Yep, honey, I’m going to feast on this moment for years.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[httpjeon]

— 07. bunny blues 7: feelings | yoongi & jungkook  (m.)

yoongi/reader/jungkook | fluff, smut | hybrid!au

wordcount: 3.1k

contents: fingering, dirty talk, slight virgin kink, size difference kink if u squint, mentions of jk’s knot, doctor visits (pelvic exam, blood drawing mention), implied jungkook jerking off, protective/possessive!jungkook

― synopsis: your heat is coming up and jungkook and yoongi decide on a way to help you through it.

note: FINALLY. SOME PORN IN THIS SERIES.

blog masterlist ɪɴᴅᴇx: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 08

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost, modify, or translate.

It began with little things with Jungkook; the way he scampered out of the room when you entered, the way he nervously fidgeted at the table while you were there, and the way he avoided any and all physical contact with you. It made you a little sad but with what happened with his best friend, you assumed he was dealing with something personal.

And he was, you just didn't know it had to do with the fact he was in love with you.

"_____, come here and let me comb your hair," Yoongi called from his bedroom.

You had a doctors appointment for some reason. When you asked, Yoongi had brushed your question off and changed the subject. You decided not to push it — you'd find out eventually anyway.

Once you were ready, you learned Jungkook wasn't going to tag along; a fact that made you feel a tag bit disappointed. You enjoyed having him go along with even the most mundane tasks, he always brightened your day up. 

"Yoongi?" You asked from your seat in the car, receiving a hum in reply. "Is Kookie mad at me?"

"Not that I'm aware of," He responded easily, keeping his eyes on the road. "He has been acting a little strange but if it's to do with what I think, then, we'll have our answer today."

You didn't bother asking him to explain himself, knowing it'd just go unanswered.

You were happy to see Dr. Kim once again, his charming disposition and beaming smile had you put at ease immediately.

"So, you're here just to see when her heat will start, correct?" Seokjin clarified and your cheeks immediately burned hot.

"That's right, Jungkook has been acting a little weird around her and I just wanna see if that's the problem," Yoongi explained.

"Alright, I'll just perform a pelvic exam and take some blood and we'll have your results soon," The doctor ushered Yoongi out of the room to wait outside to give you privacy.

The pelvic exam wasn't anything new, Joonie had taken you a few times before to get checked out in the past. Although you felt some level of embarrassment through the ordeal. You made casual chat with Seokjin, feeling at ease even while he took your blood. He quickly offered you a lollipop after taking two vials of your blood, complimenting how good you'd been for the process.

It didn't take long before the results came back. Seokjin stood beside your exam table looking over the papers before he called for Yoongi to come back.

"First, _____, how did you deal with your heats before?" The doctor asked.

"Joonie put me on suppressants after my first heat," You responded, picking at the hem of your dress as you felt embarrassed talking about it.

"Did he help you out at all through your heats?" Jin asked and you noticed Yoongi stiffen in his seat before his dark eyes cut to you.

"N-No he never did," You breathed, not noticing the way Yoongi immediately relaxed.

"Alright, well Yoongi, you have a few options."

"Wait when's her heat due? Is it soon?" Yoongi asked.

"About two weeks," Jin didn't even look up from his papers as he relayed the news. "Here are some pamphlets about rabbit heats for you. Each one contains different methods to get through it along with a helpful guide on what to expect and supplies needed."

Yoongi rushed out a breathy ‘thank you’ as the two of you left before ushering you into the car.

Yoongi seemed rather tense on the ride home, if you were honest. You decided not to speak, not wanting to aggravate the situation. As much as you wanted to know his plans, you weren't willing to upset him to find out.

"_____, baby, can you go to your room for a minute?" Yoongi asked, though his smile was tight. You pouted a little bit but acquiesced, scampering down the hall and shutting your door. To drown out the talk from outside, you turned on your little radio that Yoongi got you.

You weren't the type to eavesdrop, after all.

"What is it hyung?" Jungkook asked, lounging on the couch munching on some barbecue potato chips when Yoongi came in.

"Her heats due in two weeks," Yoongi groaned, dropping onto the couch with a sigh.

"Two weeks?! That's so soon!" Jungkook gasped, sitting up straight. "What do we do?"

"Dr. Kim gave me some options and information on heats," Yoongi responded, dropping the little booklets into his laps. He opened the one on heat options first.

"Suppressants?" Jungkook wrinkled his nose, shaking his head.

"She said she'd been on them with Namjoon. Is there something wrong with them?" Yoongi asked his hybrid.

Since Jungkook was a male hybrid and also his first, he never really had to deal with the hassle of a heat.

"They mess really bad with hormones and stuff," Jungkook shrugged. "They can make hybrids sick and increase the risk of infertility."

"Okay so, let's not do that," Yoongi replied quickly, not needing to hear anymore about the risks. Your quality of life and future well-being were just as important as getting you through the heat safely.

"Self-help," Yoongi muttered, feeling his cheeks burn at the various pictures of sex toys on the page. Each one seemed specially designed for rabbit hybrids and they appeared quite different from human sex toys.

"Yeah, letting her take care of it alone," Jungkook shrugged. "Not the most comfortable option. Probably not the best for her, though."

"What? Why?" Yoongi asked, making Jungkook snort.

"Hyung, she didn't even know what our sex toys were in your closet, come on," Yoongi groaned at the reminder of the day you found their stash of toys. “Plus, she's living in a house with two men, one of which is a hybrid, so she'll be even more riled up than she has in the past.” 

"Heat-partner," Yoongi hummed, eyes scanning the page. "The clinic offers a risk-free program to set up suitable mates for both heat-relief and breeding purposes."

Jungkook was silent beside him but Yoongi didn't seem to notice.

"It says here that there's two programs so she doesn't have to breed, that's good. We don't want any baby bunnies, do we? This might be good, a safe way to help her thro-" A growl immediately cut Yoongi off.

"You can't be considering that!" Jungkook snapped, yanking the pamphlet from his owner's hands, making the elder flinch in surprise at the show of aggression from his hybrid. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” Yoongi muttered, obviously confused by Jungkook’s behavior.

“Yeah, I don’t want some pimping service to hook her up with some random guy who won’t know how to treat her right!” Jungkook cried, tossing the paper on the floor carelessly.

“Those are the only options we have, Kook!” Yoongi argued. “You just want her to postpone it to another date for our convenience? A heat partner will help it be over quicker and be safer mentally for her!”

“Then I’ll do it,” Jungkook snapped, silencing Yoongi immediately. “I’ll be her heat-partner then.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“I love her, hyung,” Jungkook choked out, sitting on the couch with a sniffle. “I...can’t even stand the idea of some random guy using her just to get his dick wet. There’s no way that can happen!”

“Kook…” Yoongi sighed and carefully began petting his hair.

“Don’t be mad, hyung, I’m sorry,” Jungkook whimpered, laying his head on Yoongi’s chest.

“What would I be mad at?” Yoongi chuckled, hugging his hybrid.

“I-I shouldn’t have fallen for her!” Jungkook mumbled with another sniffle.

“Kook...I can’t be a hypocrite and tell you it’s wrong…”

Jungkook took a moment to register his hyung’s words before his head shot up in surprise. Yoongi nearly cooed at how cute his pup was when he was confused, but he held it in.

“Hyung...you…?”

Yoongi nodded with a sigh, “Looks like we’re both smitten by our little bunny, huh?”

They both fell silent, listening to the light hum of your radio floating in from behind your closed door.

"Shall we ask her?" Yoongi asked, feeling sort of nervous about it.

"Might as well," Jungkook replied.

You were laid in bed, watching the TV that Yoongi had gotten you. It was little, but it was sufficient for you to enjoy by yourself. You were feeling a little sluggish and as long as you were allowed, you planned to just veg all day.

It had been about a week since your doctors appointment, so you were able to put the pieces together and assume the date was growing closer.

Giggling at your cartoons, you pouted when you realized you were actually rather hungry. Your head rushed when you stood up and you whined. Ever since you realized your heat was due, you'd been gaining all types of symptoms that were just annoying. Sudden vertigo being one of them.

“Yoongi,” You fussed as you came from your room.

“What is it, baby?” Yoongi asked, meeting you in the hallway.

“Hungry,”

“Ah, right, there’s some snacks in the cabinet, honey,”

Yoongi read the preparation pamphlet and had worked hard to be prepared for your preheat. It said that you’d begin eating a bit more than usual, preparing your body for the days of your heat when you wouldn’t want to leave your nest. That was another thing; you were starting the nest. Both Jungkook and Yoongi’s belongings began to disappear, only to turn up in a pile in your room. The pile had significantly grown over the course of the week. So far you were only collecting, not yet making the nest. It wasn't time for that yet.

Yoongi expressed concern over the act being a form of mate-choosing. The pamphlet informed him that during heat hybrid would 50% of the time choose to officially mate with their partner. 

Jungkook had told him that you using their items didn’t mean very much in terms of choosing them as your mate. You were simply collecting comforting scents and things you liked, that were soft or pretty; to make your nest appealing to lay in and look at.

As you began to search the cabinet for something appetizing to eat, you were hit with the delicious scent of your favorite hybrid. You turned around and grinned.

“Hi Kookie!” You greeted, stepping closer to him.

“H-Hey, _____, you—” He cut himself off by inhaling deeply. His eyes seemed to roll back in his head before he was suddenly turning on his heel and bolting to his bedroom. He shut himself in with a heavy slam of his door.

Shrugging, you pulled out a bag of carrot chips. Waving goodbye to Yoongi, who was busy working on his computer but still smiled in response, you went back to hide in your room. However, as you passed Kook’s room, you felt your mouth drop open at the scent permeating through the air.

His scent was tinged with something muskier, something that had you mouth watering. You hadn’t ever smelt anything as enticing as it in your life.

As much as you wanted to barge in there to get closer to the scent, you forced yourself to shut yourself in your room. It didn't do much to mask the smell, but once in your space it was dulled with your own scent and Yoongi's mixing in as well.

Crawling under your blanket, you did your best to ignore the addictive scent of Jungkook and the way your body began to sweat in response to it.

You awoke what seemed like hours later, when in reality it was probably just an hour. A soft set of knocks seemed to be the cause of your rousing.

"Come in," You grumbled.

"A-Ah actually, could you come out?" Jungkook muttered, voice barely loud enough for even your sensitive ears to hear.

"S-Sure," You replied, hurriedly untangling yourself from your blanket as you heard Jungkook move away from the door.

"Are you sure about this?" Yoongi asked Jungkook, unaware that you had arrived in the living room.

"More than sure," Jungkook's voice was surprisingly husky. "Are you sure, hyung?"

"Of course,"

"Sure about what?" You mumbled, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand as you approached where they sat on the couch.

"Well, come here, baby," Yoongi grabbed your hand when you got close enough, pulling you to sit between the two of them. "We have something to ask you."

"What is it?" You asked, curiosity making your ears twitch. Jungkook couldn't help but reach up and stroke the soft fur of one, making you smile.

"You know your heat is coming up," You nodded. "And we've decided not to put you on suppressants and we don't want you to have to deal with it alone..."

"So we..." Jungkook picked up where Yoongi left off, shifting uncomfortably in his spot. "We wanted to know if you'd be okay with us...helping you through your heat.”

You were silent, eyes wide in surprise at their proposition.

"Y-You...you want to go through my heat with me?" You repeated, making sure you had heard them correctly.

"That's right," Yoongi smiled. "If you want that, that is. If you tell us no we'll find another alternative, I promise.”

"You really...are you sure you want to do it with me?" Your question had both of them pausing.

"Why wouldn't we babygirl?" Jungkook cooed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"B-Because I'm...you know..."

"What? You're what?" Yoongi grew more tense, afraid of what you might have to say about yourself.

"A...I've never...done it before..." Jungkook froze immediately at your words.

"Done what?" Yoongi asked, still lost.

"She's a virgin," Jungkook growled, eyes turning much darker than they were. Yoongi's mouth opened as he processed those words as well.

"I..." Yoongi cleared his throat. "I don't mind. I don't think...Jungkook does either,"

"Then...okay, I'd like you to help me through my heat then," You beamed, immediately making Yoongi coo softly at you.

"Fuck you smell so good," Jungkook suddenly growled, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply.

"K-Kookie," You whimpered, instinctively arching your neck to let him scent you more.

At your whine, Yoongi moved his own hand to your thigh. His touch had goosebumps rising across your skin and you sighed at his cool his hand felt against your heated skin.

"Can we touch you, baby?" Yoongi asked, feeling emboldened by your responses to their touches.

"Yes please," You whined, spreading your legs for both men.

"Fuck yeah," Jungkook groaned, beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses over your neck. Yoongi cupped your jaw, angling your face towards his so he could plant his lips over yours — pulling you into the softest of kisses. Your first kiss. Well, except that time you kissed Namjoon in a burst of affection which caused him to turn bright red and hide in his room for 4 hours. You moved on instinct, moving your lips against his to get more of the heat from his mouth.

While distracted by the kiss, Jungkook's hand replaced Yoongi's on your thigh except he moved up to cup your heat through your panties. He forgot, for a moment, you were just wearing a nightgown and he could clearly feel how wet you were through the cotton panties.

"God you're soaking," Jungkook snarled, inhaling deeply to smell your arousal through the air.

"How cute," Yoongi chuckled, pecking your lips once more. His hand slid up your nightgown until he reached your bare breasts, cupping one in his palm.

You sighed at the feeling of their hands on you — touching your virgin body with their experienced hands. When Yoongi's fingers pinched one of your hardened nipples, your entire body jolted in shock.

"So sensitive," Yoongi groaned, gently thumbing over the bud to sooth the pinch.

"What if I just..." Jungkook trailed off as he slid his hand beneath your panties. The second his fingers made contact with your wet folds, your arched and cried out.

"Holy fuck," Yoongi chuckled, enjoying your loud responses to their simple touches.

Jungkook didn't reply, sliding his fingers between your folds to find your clit. Swirling two fingers around the swollen bud, you squealed and grabbed onto Yoongi.

"Put a finger in," Yoongi ordered, making Jungkook pause.

"Fuck okay," He breathed, licking his lips as he did as he was told — sliding a finger delicately into your tight entrance.

"Ah, Kookie!" You cried, trying to spread your legs more.

Yoongi, sensing your trouble, suddenly pulled his hand away from your breasts in favor of tugging your panties down. Once free, he pulled one of your legs over his lap leaving you completely open to his touches.

Both of their gazes zeroed in on your cunt — swollen and dripping wet with Jungkook's middle finger buried as deep as it could. Even with a single finger, your little hole looked so stretched and stuffed and Yoongi felt like the air in his lungs had been punched out of him.

"Wanna make you cum," Jungkook growled, pumping his single digit in and out of you.

"P-Please!" You whined, arching your hips, desperate for more stimulation.

Yoongi took you by surprise by letting his own deft digits find your hot little clit, circling it with his fingertip as you trembled. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt your peak rising.

"Tight little virgin cunt," Jungkook snarled, lips brushing against your ear. "Can't even fit my finger. How are you going to take my fucking knot, huh?"

His dirty words and the mention of his knot had you crying out. You clutched Yoongi's shirt and buried your face in his neck and sobbed out their names as you came.

Jungkook could feel your cunt tighten around him, abusing your g-spot as you trembled. Yoongi could feel the way your clit throbbed beneath his touch, coming hard for both of them.

When you came down, your clamped your thighs shut to keep them from stimulating your sensitive body any further. Finally, they removed their hands from between your legs and pulled you into a hug.

"Good girl," Yoongi cooed, kissing your hair, holding the back of your head against him.

"So good for us," Jungkook added, nosing against your scent gland and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You felt your eyes growing heavy and you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep in their embrace — the mild heat in your body momentarily sated along with the cramps.

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Catch

Prompt: #199 for anon – “Sorry if I made you cry.”

Anonymous said:

Hi! I don’t know if I did this right, but can I request for the game #199 with JB (got7) please and thank you❤️

Pairing: Im Jaebum x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: there is a glossed over sex scene

Word count: 1633

Falling for Jaebum happened far too easily. The first meeting had left you wanting more and apparently it had been the same for him, the man gravitating towards a space in your heart that he claimed within mere weeks of knowing him.

You decided you would fall in love with him, and were on the fast track to doing so.

But something made you hesitate, and it had to do with how easy everything was.

“Surely, there’s a catch,” you murmured as you shifted closer to Jaebum after a delicious meal and night out at the movies. His arm was effortlessly wrapped around you and he glanced down, smiling at you despite the curiosity within his eyes. You grinned. “This is going all too well.”

“Should it not?”

“Well, I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate that it is,” you commented, knitting your brows together as you tried to think of how to word yourself.

“There should be a catch,” Jaebum agreed a moment later. He held up his free hand and started counting his points with his fingers. “You’re funny, gorgeous, passionate, and when we kiss-”

Blushing, you reached out to grab his hand as he chuckled. “The list for you is just as long.”

“Is it?”

“Must I tell you?” you asked, leaning towards his head that had lowered just enough for you to reach his lips. Even kissing had you working together naturally without any awkward moments.

After stealing your breath away, Jaebum rested his forehead on yours. “Tell me more at mine?”

Nodding, you couldn’t help but grow excited at the prospect of this next step in your relationship. Maybe the catch was him himself. You had gotten lucky to have reeled him in thus far, and frankly, you weren’t about to let him go.

That was apparent by the way you held his hand on the trip to his apartment, and all the way to the front door. Jaebum then scratched at his head shyly. “I uh, wasn’t planning on any visitors.”

“It’s good we chose your place and not mine, I’m certain I have dirty laundry on my floor,” you confessed to ease his worries and Jaebum grinned before putting in the code to open the door.

Passion blinded your ability to take in his apartment. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you both, hands moved just as fast as your mouths did, moans leaving you as he hoisted you up into his arms, carrying you along to what you presumed to be his bedroom. And if you had already thought everything within your relationship had been amazing, you hadn’t been ready for the mind-altering sex that you had that night.

Nor, were you prepared for the stuffiness of your nose and the tears in your eyes when you were done expressing your adoration for one another.

Jaebum frowned lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re crying, Y/N,” he mentioned softly, reaching to wipe away the tears that had seemingly fallen down your cheeks. You blinked rapidly as his dark gaze regarded you. “Sorry was I…?”

“No!” you exclaimed, shaking your hands repeatedly. “No, I enjoyed every moment with you.”

Jaebum still didn’t relax. “I’ve never had a partner cry after sex.”

“I’m not normally one to do so either. My nose just feels really stuffy.”

“Are you feeling unwell?” he wondered, sitting up and half out of the bed in a panic, evidently trying to think of what to give you.

“I don’t think so,” you murmured, taking his hand and stopping him from leaving you. “Hold me?”

Smiling, despite the concern still within his eyes, Jaebum slipped back under the covers and pulled you to his chest, sighing in content as he stroke at your hair repeatedly.

Soon, whatever worries you were having melted away and you fell asleep, completely unaware of what had triggered your reaction in the first place.

However, you were quick to discover it in the morning light. Slowly sitting up, you were aware of several things. Your eyes hurt and were sore to the touch. And your nose was incredibly stuffy.

This would be the catch.

Of course, you would have caught a cold and be embarrassingly sick the morning after sleeping with Jaebum for the first time. If the world could swallow you up whole now, you would have gladly accepted.

Except, as you sat up and took in Jaebum’s belongings, your gaze faulted on something in the corner of his room.

Oh no.

Just then, whilst you were dealing with the turmoil of your discovery, languid kisses began being littered over your bare arm until Jaebum shifted enough to reach the side of your neck. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

“Huh?” you breathed, cringing at how stuffy you sounded.

It was enough to remove the sleep from his eyes, Jaebum soon narrowing his gaze on you. “Y/N, are you...”

“We have a problem,” you explained, quickly covering your mouth and nose as you sneezed. Jaebum immediately felt your forehead and you shook your head against his hand. “I’m allergic to you.”

“To me?” he echoed and you shook your head rapidly, feeling your cheeks grow warm at your mix up.

“To your home.”

“I’m not following.”

Pointing to the cat stand in the corner of the room, you sighed. “I’m allergic to the owner of that.”

“Owners,” Jaebum lamented, and rubbed at his face before laughing bitterly. “You’re allergic to cats?”

“Horribly. I can’t believe I didn’t realise it last night when I started to have all the symptoms. I guess I was too love-drunk by what happened between us.”

Jaebum’s lips slowly curled up. “Love-drunk?”

“Oh, uh-”

“Can you take something for your allergies?” he continued, brushing your hair away from your face.

Nodding, you smiled. “I have medication for it.”

“So you’re not allergic to me.”

“Just your furbabies.”

“Well, they are a part of me,” he said and you nodded.

“I wouldn’t expect you to think differently about them just because I’m allergic.”

Jaebum leaned in to kiss you briefly. “No, but I can make sure to limit things to help you be around me. It’s the catch we were looking for, right?”

You smiled. “Right. Besides, there’s always my home.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he murmured sensually, and then scrunched his face up at you as he pulled away. “Babe, your nose.”

“Oh!” Wiping at it quickly, you then clasped a hand to your head and laughed desperately. “I’m a mess.”

“Thankfully at your house, you won’t have to worry about this.”

“So next time we meet up, do you want to come over?”

Jaebum nodded. “I’m serious about us. What did you say before? I’m love-drunk about us.”

Smiling, you couldn’t wait to enjoy further intimacy with Jaebum, and once you were medicated and in your own home, you’d have no runny nose and red eyes to hold you back from doing so.

Alas, it was Jaebum’s turn to react though.

“Wait, you’re allergic to dogs?” you breathed incredulously, watching your dog Nero bounce around your boyfriend who was trying his best not to touch him. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m not as bad as you, I don’t think,” he mumbled, smiling at Nero’s energy and then looked at you. “But yeah, I’m allergic to dogs.”

“Do you want to go home then? I don’t want you to-”

Kissing you with a hunger that wasn’t meant for the kitchen, your thought process stopped entirely. And then Jaebum sniffled. “Okay, so maybe there’s more to it than I thought.”

You noticed his watery eyes and couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry if I made you cry.”

“Well, we did say everything was going too smoothly between us.”

“There had to be an obstacle somewhere along the line,” you concluded, fishing around in your purse before presenting some medication. “Do you take this brand?”

“At least we can commiserate like this, huh?” Taking the medicine and the water you offered him, Jaebum then moved back into your space. “I’m not very attractive right now, am I?”

“I mean, you’re definitely more humanlike. Before, I was certain the Gods had sculpted you themselves.”

Laughing, despite how blocked up he sounded, Jaebum then shook his head. “That was cheesy but I love it – I love you.”

“I love you too,” you responded, grinning with how easily it rolled off the tongue. Jaebum’s expression mirrored yours. “Even if my dog makes you cry.”

“And my cats’ hair makes your nose itch.”

“Do you think we can be together for a long time?” you wondered as Jaebum leaned in closer to you.

“Maybe we’ll grow immune to our allergies.”

“And if we don’t?” you countered, brushing his hair away from his face.

Jaebum laughed. “Then it looks like I’ll be taking medication to be around your dog.”

“It’s a small price to pay since everything else is perfect, right?”

Kissing you, Jaebum nodded. “Besides, we’ve both seen each other looking disgusting after an allergic reaction now. If that doesn’t put us off, nothing will.”

“I happen to like cats a great deal,” you told him with a smile and Jaebum laughed.

“Your dog is pretty cute too.”

“As cute as me?”

Jaebum scooped you up into his arms as you giggled. “Let’s see if after making love if I’m crying like you did or not.”

“Hey! That was because of my allergies!”

“Hm, well for me, it might because of you,” Jaebum announced, waiting for you to give direction to your room.

You hadn’t thought about your pets being the cause to a problem between you both, but knowing that was all that was in your way made you hopeful that the rest would come just as easily as everything else had.

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[Drabble Game Masterlist] | [GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]