#barefoot and free (ic)

[unabashegirl]

The Cover | part 4

Y/N and Harry, lifelong best friends, pretend to be a couple for a family wedding weekend in Edinburgh. As they navigate the event, old feelings resurface, and what starts as an act turns into something real, leading them to confront their true emotions for one another.

Author's note: Hello everyone, here is the final part of the cover. I've decided to keep the smut exclusive to my Patreon subscribers. I hope that is okay with you. Also remember that this is a shorter version of the original.

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As the evening wore on, the rehearsal dinner turned into a carefree celebration under the soft glow of fairy lights. Laughter filled the warm air, wine glasses clinked, and the once-formal atmosphere relaxed into something more boozy and free-spirited. Most guests had trickled out, leaving behind only close family and friends, including the bride, who was barefoot and swaying on the grass.

Harry sat at the large wooden table, eyes on the makeshift dance floor where family members stumbled over each other, laughing. His blazer was discarded over his chair, the top buttons of his shirt undone, a sheen of sweat glistening on his chest. The summer night was humid, and the heat from earlier hung in the air, clinging to everyone like a heavy blanket. Harry ran a hand through his tousled curls, the dampness at his hairline a reminder of how sticky the night had become.

Harry leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, the other holding a glass of whiskey, now mostly just melted ice. He hadn’t been drinking much since the toasts, but the buzz from earlier still lingered, making him feel a little lighter than usual. His shirt clung to his chest, damp from the heat, and he unbuttoned another button to catch some air.

Across the yard, Y/N spun in her floral dress, laughter echoing in the warm night air, blending with the upbeat music from the DJ. Her cheeks were flushed, hair wild from dancing and drinks. She was the brightest thing in the yard, a glowing figure of joy among the family still hanging around.

Harry took a slow sip from his glass, his gaze never leaving her. She was magnetic—the way her dress swayed, the way she threw her head back when she laughed. It was impossible not to be drawn to her.

His shirt collar felt tight again, and Harry absentmindedly tugged at it, his eyes tracing the way Y/N’s dress hugged her in all the right places. There was something about the way she moved tonight—so free, so completely herself. It was like watching the most beautiful thing in the world, no filters, no pretenses.

He exhaled, a mix of admiration and frustration settling in. They hadn’t confessed anything yet—no love, no admissions of the truth that lingered between them. Watching her from the sidelines, it hit him just how deep he was in it.

Y/N’s cousin twirled her on the "dance floor," and for a split second, she stumbled, giggling as she caught herself. Beth, now barefoot, joined in, and the three of them—Y/N, her cousin, and Beth—started dancing in a clumsy circle, arms around each other’s shoulders.

The group’s laughter rang louder than the music, and even Y/N’s cousin—who had spent the evening showing off her fiancé and trying to impress Harry—was caught up in the happy, drunken haze of the night.

Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders and sinking back into his chair, the sweat on his skin cooling in the evening air. His gaze never left Y/N as she moved, effortlessly beautiful. It struck him again how out of place she seemed here—surrounded by these people, with their petty remarks and forced conversations. She was so much more than that. Watching her dance, carefree and full of life, made his chest tighten.

Then, as Y/N spun in the circle, her eyes met his. For a moment, her smile softened, more intimate, before she waved at him playfully, inviting him to join. Harry shook his head, raising his glass in a half-teasing salute.

She pouted, narrowing her eyes at him before rolling them and letting her arms drop from her cousin and Beth. Without missing a beat, she marched toward him, the fabric of her dress brushing her legs with each step.

“You’re really just going to sit there all night?” Y/N teased, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. Her voice was light, but the challenge in her eyes was undeniable.

“I’m enjoying the view,” Harry replied, his voice lower than he meant to. He grinned, but there was no mistaking the heat behind his gaze.

Y/N’s lips curved into a knowing smile, and she tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “The view’s better up close,” she said, holding out her hand.

Harry stared at her outstretched hand, the challenge and playful spark in her eyes tempting him. It was impossible not to be drawn in. His heart raced, the idea of crossing that line between friendship and something more pulling him in.

For a moment, he considered brushing her off with another excuse. But something shifted. A decision settled in his chest, heavy but certain.

Without another word, he reached out, his hand taking hers. Instead of getting up, he tugged her gently toward him. Y/N gasped in surprise as he pulled her close, his grip firm but careful. She stumbled slightly, and before she could react, Harry pulled her down onto his lap.

“Harry—” she whispered, voice breathless, the protest fading before it even left her lips.

Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Y/N's legs draped over his lap as she sat sideways on him, his other hand settling on her thigh. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of her dress, the floral print fluttering slightly as she adjusted. The delicate pattern contrasted with the intimacy of the moment.

His heart raced, but he kept his voice steady. “Thought you’d look better here,” he murmured, his words laced with both playfulness and something deeper.

Y/N looked up at him, wide-eyed and speechless for a moment, her cheeks flushed from the sudden closeness. She shifted in his lap, slow and tentative, the nervous energy between them thick and palpable. Neither of them had fully acknowledged the tension before.

Her hands found his chest, fingers brushing against the open buttons of his shirt. She swallowed hard. “Harry, what are you doing?” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Was it a challenge? A question? Or just a way to steady herself in the chaos of emotions between them?

He smirked, though his heart felt like it might burst. "I don’t want to dance," he murmured in her ear. "I prefer being here with you."

Her breath hitched at his words. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She’d always hidden her feelings, pushed them aside, but this felt different. It felt real. The way Harry’s arms held her, the way his breath brushed against her skin—it was as if they’d always been this close, even when they hadn’t.

Y/N bit her lip, her nerves taking over for a moment. She wasn’t sure if this was just Harry being playful or if something had really changed between them. But as she sat in his lap, his hand on her thigh, the truth felt undeniable.

Harry could feel her hesitation, the tension in her posture, caught between leaning into him and pulling away. His thumb brushed over the fabric of her dress, a small, reassuring touch, silently telling her it was okay to stay.

“Relax,” he whispered in her ear, his voice low and soft. “Just… stay.”

Y/N exhaled, her body melting into his as she allowed herself to give in to the moment. She leaned her head back against his chest, their breaths syncing as they sat close and quiet, the fading party around them.

The world blurred into a soft hum, the laughter and music fading into the background. All that remained was the warmth of Harry’s embrace, the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand, and the electricity of their unspoken feelings finally surfacing.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, her hand resting over Harry’s on her thigh, fingers intertwining. “What are we doing, Harry?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tightened his hold on her, his lips near her temple. “I’m not sure,” he murmured, “but I don’t want to stop.”

Her heart fluttered at his words. For the first time that night, she allowed herself to believe—just a little—that maybe he felt the same way she did.

Y/N took a deep breath, summoning the courage she needed. The alcohol made her head spin, but it also gave her the boldness to act. She knew if anything was going to happen, it had to be now.

Suddenly, she stood up from his lap. Harry looked up at her, surprise and curiosity flashing in his eyes. Y/N reached for his glass, brushing against his fingers as she took it. Without breaking eye contact, she downed his drink in one swift motion.

Harry’s gaze was intense, a mix of desire and uncertainty in his eyes. Y/N’s heart raced, but she ignored the nerves and extended her hand to him—an invitation, a challenge, all in one.

For a moment, Harry hesitated, his eyes searching hers. Then, slowly, deliberately, he took her hand. Y/N felt a jolt of electricity as their fingers intertwined. With a gentle tug, she pulled him up from his seat, their bodies close, the tension between them undeniable.

Without a word, Y/N led Harry away from the fading party, through the quiet halls of the house. The sounds of laughter and music drifted behind them, their footsteps echoing softly in the silence, their heartbeats quickening in sync.

They reached the door to their shared bedroom, and Y/N paused, her hand on the doorknob. She turned to face Harry, her eyes searching his.

His gaze was intense, a mix of desire and something deeper. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The simple touch sent shivers down her spine.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her voice barely audible. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, she turned the doorknob, and they stepped into the room together, closing the door behind them. The night was far from over, and whatever happened next would change everything.

Y/N woke up before Harry, her head pounding slightly from the drinks of last night. The dull throb of a hangover tugged at her, but the memories of the night before were as vivid as ever. Every touch, every whispered word, every lingering moment—it was all clear in her mind.

She lay there for a moment, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Her gaze drifted to Harry, lying beside her on his stomach, completely naked. The sheet had been kicked off during the night, leaving him uncovered. His broad back rose and fell with each slow breath, muscles relaxed, his messy curls falling across his forehead. He looked peaceful, vulnerable, and breathtakingly beautiful.

For a brief moment, Y/N let herself admire him—the smooth lines of his back, the curve of his spine, the way his body seemed perfectly at ease. A warmth spread through her chest, not just from the memories of their night together, but from the way Harry made her feel in this quiet, unspoken moment.

With a sigh, she slipped out of bed as quietly as possible. Grabbing a pair of pajamas from her suitcase, she slipped them on, the soft fabric comforting against her skin. Her mind buzzed with thoughts of the day ahead—the wedding, the ceremony, the reception.

Y/N cast one last glance at Harry before tiptoeing out of the room. She needed a moment to herself—and some breakfast—before the chaos of the day began.

Heading downstairs, she stepped into the dining room, still feeling the faint throb of a hangover, but the promise of coffee and food was enough to offer some relief. She spotted her cousin and Beth immediately. Both looked worse for wear after last night's festivities. Beth was lounging in her chair, sipping a Bloody Mary with a smug expression, while Y/N’s cousin—the bride—was nursing her headache with a cold compress pressed to her puffy face, slowly nibbling on toast.

"Morning," Y/N greeted as she made her way to the coffee pot, pouring herself a steaming cup. She sat down at the table, hoping the caffeine would kick in and help her survive the day ahead. Beth’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she took another sip of her drink.

"So," Beth said, leaning forward with a sly grin. "Where did you disappear off to last night?"

Y/N’s cheeks flushed with heat, the memory of waking up next to Harry still fresh in her mind. She tried to play it cool, taking a long sip of her coffee before responding. "We just... went to bed early," she said, keeping her tone casual, hoping to brush it off. "Nothing exciting."

Beth’s grin only grew wider. "Uh-huh. Sure. You just went to sleep, huh?" She leaned in, lowering her voice like they were sharing a secret. "Come on, Y/N, don’t be shy. You’re a dirty girl now, aren’t you?"

Y/N nearly choked on her coffee, her face burning even hotter as she shot a glare at Beth. "Beth, seriously," she muttered, feeling more exposed than she wanted to admit. Before she could say anything else, her cousin, the bride, spoke up.

"I’m actually glad we have a moment to talk alone," her cousin said, setting down her toast and focusing her attention on Y/N. Her voice was sweet, but there was a sharpness in it that immediately put Y/N on edge. "I’ve been wanting to bring this up for a while now."

Y/N’s pulse quickened as she turned to face her cousin. "Oh?"

Her cousin smiled tightly, pressing the ice pack harder against her swollen face. "I’ve been meaning to say… I’m a bit surprised, to be honest." She gave a small, pointed shrug before continuing. "That someone like Harry would notice… well, someone like you."

Y/N’s heart sank, though she’d braced herself for comments like this. Hearing it still stung. Her cousin’s words were dripping with condescension, like she couldn’t believe Harry would even look twice at Y/N, let alone be interested.

"Someone like me?" Y/N echoed, her voice calm but guarded, forcing herself to keep her tone even.

Her cousin waved a hand dismissively. "You know what I mean. You’ve always been so quiet, so reserved. And Harry’s... well, he’s Harry Styles. A global superstar. It’s just... unexpected, that’s all."

Y/N’s stomach twisted as insecurity rose to the surface. She’d always known Harry’s fame was a shadow that loomed over everything, especially in situations like this. But hearing it like this? It felt personal. It felt like her cousin was questioning her worth, her place beside Harry.

Before Y/N could think of a response, Beth cut in with a sharp laugh. "Oh, shut up," she said, dismissing the bride’s thinly veiled insult with a wave of her hand. "Harry doesn’t care about all that. If anything, he’s lucky Y/N even looks at him."

Y/N shot Beth a grateful glance, feeling the tension shift slightly in the room, but her cousin wasn’t done. She leaned back in her chair, sizing Y/N up with an unreadable look. "Well, I suppose we’ll see," she said, her voice laced with skepticism. "But it’s just... different. I never would've guessed."

Y/N swallowed, trying to keep her composure, but her cousin’s words hung in the air like a cloud she couldn’t shake. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "Yeah," Y/N said softly. "It is different."

Beth, ever the firecracker, raised her Bloody Mary in a mock toast. "Different is good."

Y/N’s cousin’s voice dripped with saccharine sweetness, her next words like poison. "I mean, you’re just so... simple," she said, emphasizing the word in a way that felt anything but kind. "And that’s okay! Not everyone has to be flashy or... glamorous." She waved her hand dismissively, as if to brush aside any possibility that Y/N could be more than what she was implying. "You’ve always been the quiet one, the one in the background. I suppose some people might find that... charming."

Y/N forced a tight smile, but her cousin’s words stung deeper than she expected. Doubt crept in with every backhanded comment. Was she really that unremarkable? Did everyone see her the way her cousin did—as someone who didn’t quite belong with someone like Harry?

Beth wasn’t having any of it. “Simple?” she scoffed. “You mean down-to-earth, real—not fake like some people I can name.”

Her cousin smirked, clearly pleased with herself. “Look at Harry’s usual type—models, actresses. Saw him with that model in London last week? They looked so into each other.”

Y/N froze, her stomach twisting. “What model?” she barely managed to ask.

Her cousin leaned back, eyes sparkling. “You must’ve seen the pictures. They were everywhere. Harry was all over her. Thought they were dating.”

Y/N’s head spun, images of Harry with someone else filling her mind. She hadn’t seen those photos, but the thought gnawed at her.

Beth wasn’t having it. “Can you stop stirring shit? Harry’s here with Y/N, clearly doesn’t care about some random model.”

Y/N’s cousin didn’t respond, just gave a tight smile. Y/N tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest.

Y/N’s cousin gave her a sweet, condescending smile. “I just thought they looked so... in love. But who knows?” Her eyes glinted, clearly relishing the discomfort she was trying to stir.

Y/N felt the doubt creep in, but instead of reacting, she straightened her back. She locked eyes with her cousin and said, her tone ice-cold, “You know, I could say a lot of things right now. Things that would take that smug look off your face.”

Her cousin blinked, caught off guard. Y/N smiled, the edge never leaving her voice. “But since it’s your wedding day, I’ll keep them to myself. I’ll play the part, smile for the cameras, and make sure everything’s ‘perfect.’”

With that, Y/N turned and walked away, the weight of the moment settling in as she left her cousin speechless. No more doubts. Not today.

Y/N shot her cousin a cold smile, letting the weight of her words sink in. "After today, we’ll be strangers. I don’t plan on speaking to someone so self-absorbed and cold-hearted ever again."

Beth raised an eyebrow, impressed by Y/N's bluntness, but her cousin's face fell, her shock turning to indignation. Before she could respond, Y/N brushed off her hands nonchalantly. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, let me know when hair and makeup get here," she said casually, turning on her heel and walking out.

But as soon as the door closed behind her, Y/N’s facade cracked. The anger that had fueled her words faded, replaced by confusion and pain. Her heart raced, and doubts flooded her mind. Was her cousin right? Did she really belong in Harry’s world? Or was this all just a fantasy? The thought of facing him upstairs—of confronting everything she was feeling—felt too overwhelming. She couldn’t do it, not now.

Y/N slipped quietly through the back door into the garden, the crisp morning air doing little to ease the storm inside her. Coffee cup in hand, she made her way to a small table, steam rising from the mug, the only warmth she could feel.

Her hands shook as she took a sip, the bitter taste matching the thoughts spiraling in her mind. The garden, serene and beautiful, felt like a different world from the chaos in her head.

She had no answers, no idea what to do, or where to go. It all felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

Y/N gripped the mug tightly, trying to steady her racing thoughts. But before she could find her peace, the back door creaked open.

Her mom stormed out, face flushed with anger. Y/N didn’t need to ask why—her cousin had already run to her, no doubt twisting things to make her the villain.

"Y/N!" her mom’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and demanding. “What did you say to your cousin?”

Y/N tensed, her heart sinking. Of course, this was coming. She didn’t even look at her mom, just stared into her coffee, hoping it would swallow her whole.

"She came to me in tears, Y/N! Tears! On her wedding day! How could you be so cruel?"

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her voice steady. She didn’t want to argue—not when she felt so broken inside. "You don’t know what she said to me," she murmured. "She’s been making snide remarks all morning—about me, about Harry. About everything."

Her mom crossed her arms, annoyed. "She’s the bride, Y/N! You could’ve let it go. It’s one day. Now look at what you’ve done. The whole family is talking about it."

Y/N’s chest tightened. "It’s always about how things look, isn’t it?" she muttered, almost to herself. "I didn’t want to make a scene, but I wasn’t going to let her tear me down, not today. Not when I’m already—" she stopped, not wanting to show just how fragile she felt. "Not when she was being completely out of line."

Y/N’s heart dropped as her mother’s words hit their mark. “Out of line?” Her mom scoffed. “She was just pointing out the obvious. Harry isn’t like us. He’s not… your type. And everyone knows it. You should’ve thought twice before bringing him into all of this.”

The sting of her mother’s words cut deep. It was like being told, once again, that she didn’t fit in. That she was too much of an outsider, even in her own life. She felt small, like everything she’d worked so hard for wasn’t enough to make her belong.

“Mom,” Y/N whispered, trying to hold back the wave of emotion building in her chest. “Why do you always make me feel like I’m not enough?”

Her mother paused, just for a second, before shaking her head, as if dismissing Y/N’s hurt. “I’m just saying you need to be realistic,” she said, voice lowering as if that would soften the blow. “Harry’s great, but he doesn’t belong here. You don’t belong here. You need to think about what’s best for you.”

That was it. The words that would stay with Y/N for days. The ones that would echo in her mind, repeating like a broken record. She wanted to scream, to tell her mom how much it hurt, but instead, all she could do was blink back the tears. She didn’t have the strength to keep fighting, not now, not with everything weighing on her.

“Just… fix this,” her mom ordered, voice soft but still holding that cold command. “Make it right before the wedding starts. You owe her that.”

Y/N felt the world close in, her heart sinking lower than she ever thought it could.

Y/N’s heart sank as her mom walked away, leaving her standing in the cold. No response. No comfort. Just the weight of her words hanging in the air. She wiped at the tears that had started to spill, her chest tight with everything she couldn’t say, everything she couldn’t change.

She dragged herself upstairs, each step heavier than the last. Her mind was a mess, full of her cousin’s cruel comments and her mom’s cold disappointment. What was she supposed to do with all of this? Where could she go?

When she opened the bedroom door, the warm steam from the shower hit her like a wave, and there he was—Harry. Freshly showered, his damp hair curling at the ends, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He was toweling off, his back to her. For a moment, she stood frozen. Her heart ached, unsure of how to handle the storm brewing inside her.

Then he turned around, his face lighting up when he saw her. “Hey, there you are,” he said, walking toward her with that familiar smile. But then, his expression faltered when he noticed the tear stains on her face, the redness in her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, his hand reaching for her. He moved toward her as if to kiss her, but stopped short, brow furrowed in concern.

Y/N opened her mouth, but no words came out. She tried to smile, to act like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was—everything felt too big. Her throat tightened, and the tears started all over again.

Harry’s face softened, his hands cupping her face gently as he wiped at the fresh tears. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest. The question she didn’t want to ask, but needed to, bubbled up. “Are you seeing someone? A model?”

Harry froze. The question caught him off guard. “What? A model?”

Y/N's voice trembled, her tears barely held back. “Are you seeing a model, Harry? Please, just tell me the truth.”

Harry looked at her, confused. “What? No, I’m not seeing anyone. Where’s this coming from?”

She choked on her words. “My cousin said she saw pictures of you with someone in London last week, and—”

He immediately softened, understanding clicking. “Y/N, listen to me,” he said, his voice steady and warm. “If I was seeing someone, you’d know. I’m not dating anyone. It’s just you and me.”

Her heart lifted with the sincerity in his voice. He pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. “You know how the media is—they make stories out of nothing. Those pictures? Nothing serious. Just some event.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just… everything here has me so confused.”

Y/N melted into Harry's embrace, the warmth of his words easing the ache in her chest.

Harry held her close, his hand soothing her hair. He pulled back slightly, his green eyes full of concern. "Y/N, we don't have to stay here," he said gently. "We can leave right now. You don't have to stay if it's making you feel like this."

Her heart raced as she blinked up at him. “But it’s the wedding…”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, shaking his head. “I don’t want to see you upset over something your cousin said. You don’t need to deal with that. Not another second.” He cupped her face, his eyes searching hers. “We can go. We’ll pack up, drive back to London—just you and me. Leave all this behind.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, knowing he meant it. He would drop everything for her, even for the weekend. The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache.

“I don’t want to see you hurt, love,” Harry murmured. “If staying here means you’re miserable, then let’s go. We can make our own weekend. No pressure, no fake smiles, no cruel comments.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the idea of leaving so tempting. But she still hesitated. “Harry, I... I don’t know.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “It’s your choice. We stay if you want, but you don’t owe anyone here anything. Not even your family.”

Y/N rested her hands on Harry’s chest, leaning into his warmth. The idea of running away with him was tempting, but she couldn’t just walk away—not now, not after everything. Still, his words meant everything.

“I… I think I want to stay,” she whispered, voice steady. “I don’t want to run, Harry. Not from them.”

Harry nodded, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Alright. But if you change your mind, we’re gone. I’ll pack in a heartbeat.” His small smile made her laugh softly, despite the tears still clinging to her lashes.

“Thank you,” she murmured, sinking back into his arms. “For everything.”

“I’ve got you, always,” Harry whispered, his breath warm against her hair. “No matter what.”

The wedding was beautiful. Y/N couldn’t deny it. Despite the tension with her cousin, the love between the bride and groom was undeniable. Her cousin’s eyes sparkled as she walked down the aisle, and the way her fiancé looked at her—like she was the only person in the world—had Y/N’s heart swelling. She even teared up a little.

Though Y/N hadn’t patched things up with her cousin, she didn’t feel the need to apologize. She knew she’d done nothing wrong. Her cousin’s hurtful words had crossed a line, and Y/N wasn’t about to apologize for standing her ground. Harry agreed, and that was all that mattered.

As for Harry? He was the star of the wedding. Eyes constantly on him, people whispering and sneaking glances, captivated by the famous face. But Harry didn’t seem to care. His focus was entirely on one person.

Y/N.

he was wearing a sky-blue silk dress that seemed to float with every step. The fabric hugged her perfectly, and her hair tumbled in loose waves around her shoulders. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away. Throughout the ceremony, the reception, and every moment in between, his gaze never left her—she was the most breathtaking thing in the room.

No matter how many people tried to pull him into conversation, Harry stayed focused on her. His hand found hers more than once, squeezing it under the table during speeches, or brushing her back as they weaved through the crowd.

Every time Y/N caught his gaze, her heart skipped a beat. That warm, genuine smile—just for her—made her feel like she was the only person in the world. There was an unspoken bond between them, growing stronger with every minute that passed.

As the night wore on, filled with laughter and celebration, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride. Not just for standing up for herself, but for the man standing by her side.

[m0chisenpai]

some sunny day

˚｡⋆platonic! emperor geta x black fem!reader x platonic!caracalla

in which you find a way to survive the heat of Rome without the 21st century comforts

Gods above it is HOT. You sit in the gardens along the more shaded parts of the private gardens. Cushioned by the long chaise while your handmaidens fan you slowly with leaves. You wear lighter robes, though if it were up to you, you’d be completely nude. There is no central air in Rome.

Suddenly the 21st century doesn’t seem to suck.

There’s no ice cream. No swimming pools. So you make do with camping outside in the shade, the breeze that comes every few minutes provides very little relief.

It was too much of a hassle to get into the baths, you didn’t need to bathe you already did in the morning. And the waters were lukewarm offering no relief. The moment you got in you begged to be clean as quickly so that you could get out the humid baths. You felt ill by the time you were dressed as you ladies suggested the fresh air.

When your eyes settled on the beautiful fountain during your walks, you felt a plan formulate. It could be likened to a children’s pool, shallow and with a statue in the middle and engravings along the sides. But the waters you were certain, were cold.

You informed your maidens you would spend your early afternoon in the gardens. They quickly set you up with something close to a chaise. It’s low to the ground and cushioned with soft pillows. Now all you needed was to get in the water, but you are instantly told no.

You tried slowly sneaking over but your maidens herd you like a sheep back to your cushions beneath the shade.

You tilt your head back, and catch the gaze of your personal handmaiden, Livia. She was old enough probably to be an aunt, and when she isn’t in the presence of your brothers she speaks more freely. And she was the one who was highly aware of your schemes, as was the beautiful General Acacius who stands beside her.

The two roadblocks to your little scheme.

“Marcus,” you coo rolling over to lay on your stomach and look up at the older general. He stiffens at that tone, it’s the same tone you use on your brothers, the same tone that leads to mischief. And he feels your eyes on him, when you call him again. But he keeps his gaze outward, not falling prey to your mischief. 

“Yes, my lady?”

You push yourself to sit up, curling your legs beneath. “My brothers, they will be spending this day with the Senate,” and by now you have Marcus’ full attention as you reach down to unstrap your sandals. You then begin to work on the bands on your arms and your earrings. 

“My lady?” You place the last piece on the cushions Beside your golden laurels.

“And if I am correct, they will be there for quite some time. You were tasked to be by my side the entire day yes?” When you look up at him you are free of your jewels and gold and stand barefoot in the grasses. 

“Yes my lady.���

You grin bunching up your robes in both your hands, “very well. Then that gives us more than enough time.”

You break off into a sprint toward the stone fountains. And Marcus along with your handmaidens can only watch until they see your target and they quickly bolt after you, helplessly calling. “My lady no! If you wish to bathe we can return to your chambers!“

“Oh none of the formalities! The gods bless us with cool waters here, who are we to ignore such a refreshing gift my dear ladies” you sing as you lift your robes more as to not let the bottoms wet. You quickly wade into the waters just barely avoiding their reaching hands. And a pleasant shiver racks your body. This was what you needed, you sigh reaching one hand down to dip your hand into the water. 

Livia leans as far as she can with an arm held out to you, “my lady please come you’ll catch a cold!” 

“In this heat? Hardly!” You playfully flick the water at her and the general drags a tired hand down his face, “The water feels sooooo nice. I think you all would find it quite soothing,” as you trail off you wade deeper into the fountain. Livia can only huff and reach down to shuck off her own sandals not missing Marcus’ shock.

“Our imperators insisted we remain where her majesty is, and if she is in the waters then so shall we!” One by one each of your maidens ease in and try circling you like a lost sheep out of the water. Little do they know this was all part of your plan.

You could see the exhaustion of those who were tasked with caring for you, the very least you could was offer them the same relief for having to follow at your heels every single day. And slowly they forget their task and sit on the edges or splash one another in the waters with your boisterous laughter leading to their own. 

It feels like you are in one of those giant old paintings at the museum. As you sit beside Livia she begins to braid your hair into a crown. 

“Just for today my lady and then it is off to the baths with you.”

“Yes mother,” you playfully reply and from the corner of your eye you see her shake her head with the smallest of smiles.

As soon as they release the Senate, Caracalla shoots out of his seat toward the private gardens. It has become your secret sanctuary for the three of you and he knows it better than his twin. Geta follows behind at a more leisurely pace, though his excitement is more silent to see you.

Their days are spent planning festivities and the upcoming campaign. All of it brings nothing but a dull ache to his mind and makes his nights tiresome. Fittings for ceremonial robes, the fights, the aquatic games, it all piles up and leaves him weary. But you are the sweet soothing balm to the headaches of these meetings. 

So he will sit through long meetings, will speak of politics and negotiations and plundering if it brings him closer to the days of celebrations and festivals that allow them both to soak up your presence. 

 Geta and Caracalla don’t know whether to scold or coo at the sight of you lying in the grass atop linen sheets. Your head is lying atop the folded legs of Livia while the others seem to be setting food up with drink for the three of you. 

At the sight of the two emperors they all stop to bow before both rulers. 

Marcus looks nearly as exhausted as you are, and just as soaked from the way his hair is pushed back out of this face. “Dear sister! You have gotten into great mischief once again without me.”

“Calla!” You squeal back holding your hands out to the younger twins who is quick to dive into your outstretched arms. You squeeze him close and he returns the sentiment. Geta flicks a hand back and his guards tuck themselves far enough to give you the space, but close enough to see any impending threats.

“Did you get into the fountain?” Geta’s lip turns up as he takes note of how the fabric clings to you. And when you shrug he can only tut and cross his arms like a mother.  

“It was hot! And the both of you were taking much too long.”

“Then why not return to the baths, I am sure your ladies are more than capable of assisting the empress?” The women shrink beneath his stare but you quickly break the ice that begins to form between you all.

“Oh ignore him, he is the lesser of us two when it comes to the enjoyments of things.” You giggle with Caracalla and Geta can only roll his eyes and sit in front of you both atop the chaise. Caracalla looks peaceful, he has been these days since you entered their lives. Your idle chatter and small giggles warm his own heart. 

You were truly the missing piece they needed. So nurturing and loving. Looking past the. Younger twins ailment and his moments of confusion of rage. Geta felt he could lay his crown and title as emperor and eldest down with you.

You are odd and uncaring and have no problem being unladylike. You walk around the grounds barefoot often, your make up applied quite dramatic, your hair wild and free when it is not braided. You prefer the sweet breads and fruits at every meal and you are adored by your maidens.

As Geta rests his head on his fist, he takes a quick sip of wine.

He would do anything to protect you against the vipers of Rome. he knew politicians, he knew of rulers. How quick they were to move the pieces, and he’d be damned if any try to use you as a ploy for their throne.

Caracalla’s concubine has taken a similar position as your handmaidens. He looks picturesque as the young woman strokes the younger twin. Slowly he is lulled into a sleep and your idle chatter goes silent. You lay on your side, watching his eyes fall shut and Dondus cuddle himself against the sleeping twin.

You wish you had your phone now to get a picture, so for now you’ll drink in this moment of each. When you tilt your head you catch Geta’s gaze. His eyebrows are still pinched, and you can tell he is doing anything but relaxing.

So you stand, stretch your arms over head and hold a hand in front of him, “Geta come.”

“No.”

“Getaaaaa”

“Never, come and eat.”

“At least just your feet! Then I will share a meal with you,” and with a childish groan he stands lifting his laurels to sit on the cushions and his own servants unstraps his sandals. He hates to admit the water does feel good when you pull him in . 

You slowly walk to stare up at the statue. And while Geta wants to fuss at your robes being soaked, he can’t bring himself to bring your mind back down.

“Do you think we will find one another in another life?”

Geta was no pious man, but he believed the gods to be real and true. The glory of his empire, the riches and comfort he and his twin share, and now your return. “If the gods brought us back together in this one then surely we shall be reunited in the next.”

“Who knew you could be so philosophical,” you smirk and Geta rolls his eyes kicking a wave of water at you.

“Oh! Do not start- Marcus!”

“Marcus ignore her! This is to be a fair fight!”

[maybe-im-dark]

Ice claws

Based on this post

(Image drawn by: @shortkinglogan)

The ice rink was nearly empty that night, the soft hum of the cooling machines filling the silence. Wade had rented the entire place out, determined to give Logan a rare moment of peace.

Logan stood at the edge of the rink, his arms crossed and a frown etched deep into his face. The skates Wade had rented dangled uselessly from his hand.

“I’m not doin’ it,” Logan growled, tossing the skates onto a nearby bench.

Wade, already laced up and gliding around the ice with the grace of a drunken deer, spun to face him. “Aw, come on, peanut! I went through all the trouble of bribing the rink guys with free merc-jobs! And what’s the point of being Canadian if you don’t ice skate?”

Logan’s frown deepened. “I used to. Before the adamantium. Now? I’m probably too damn heavy. Ice isn’t gonna hold me.”

Wade skated up to the edge, his mask slightly skewed to reveal a cocky grin. “Oh, but this ice isn’t just any ice! This baby’s reinforced with cooling machines that can handle, like, a semi-truck. I checked. You’ll be fine.”

Logan glanced at the rink, his hesitation written all over his face.

Wade tilted his head, suddenly serious. “I get it. You don’t trust it. And that’s okay. But I promise, it’s safe. You’ve faced worse than a frozen pond, Logan.”

After a long silence, Logan finally sighed and crouched down. Wade assumed he was grabbing the skates, but instead, Logan pulled off his boots and socks.

Wade blinked. “Uh, are we going barefoot now? ‘Cause I am all for naked ice skating, but this wasn’t the plan—oh.”

Wade’s words faltered as Logan stepped onto the ice, his bare feet spreading slightly with each step. Wade noticed how his feet adjusted naturally, the broad surface allowing him to distribute his weight evenly.

“Mutation,” Logan muttered, noticing Wade’s stare. “Makes it so I don’t sink in snow. Guess it works on ice too.”

Before Wade could reply, Logan crouched lower, his knees bent, and his claws popped out with their signature snikt. Then, without warning, Logan dropped to all fours and propelled himself forward.

The sound of claws scraping against the ice echoed through the rink as Logan glided effortlessly, his movements smooth and calculated. His feet and claws worked in perfect sync, pushing him forward in sharp, precise strokes. He made a wide loop around the rink, faster than Wade had ever seen anyone skate.

Wade’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, Logan! You’re like a freaking ice-wolf! Ice-wolverine? Whatever, it’s badass.”

Logan stopped mid-glide, his claws sinking into the ice to steady himself.

“It ain’t exactly traditional skating,” he muttered, standing upright.

Wade skated over, a goofy grin plastered on his face. “Are you kidding? This is so much better than traditional skating. You’re like the Tony Hawk of ice claws! Tony Paw? Whatever, it’s amazing.”

Logan huffed but couldn’t entirely hide the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to do any fancy tricks.”

Wade clapped his hands. “Oh, but you will. Trust me, I’m already planning our ice-dancing debut. Deadpool and Wolverine: The Skating Saga.”

“Not a chance.”

"Too late, I’m calling NBC as we speak.”

Despite himself, Logan laughed—a low, genuine sound that Wade lived for. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re incredible,” Wade shot back, skating alongside him. “Now, come on, do that glide thing again. I gotta get this on camera.”

Logan rolled his eyes but dropped back down to all fours, his claws digging into the ice. As he launched forward, Wade cheered, his voice echoing through the rink.

For the first time in a long while, Logan felt free—his movements unhindered, his instincts guiding him as he raced across the ice. And with Wade’s ridiculous commentary keeping pace beside him, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could enjoy this after all.

[sleeps-au-bag]

i have to throw this into the all consuming void

hsr roleswap where clara, yanqing, and misha take the place of our favorite nameless trio while march 7th, dan heng, and the trailblazer take their places. it doesn't matter that i'm still in the beginning of the 2.0 main quest, i needed to get this out. no spoilers please.

clara is now the host of a stellaron. she was left behind on the herta space station to be found by the astral express. she's incredibly talented when it comes to machines, has a strange habit of going around barefoot, and possibly the most normal one on the express.

yanqing is now the amnesiac swordsman of the express. he was found as a block of six-phased ice floating through space on april 4th, which is now his name. he's crazy talented with a sword, a wonderful photographer, and has quite the adventurous spirit.

misha is now the mysterious loner of the express. he was the first of the trio to be invited on by himeko and welt and has stayed since. his customer service face is unrivaled, he cares quite a bit for his fellow trailblazers, and tries to keep them as far away as possible from finding out his past.

march 7th, now called marcy, is the daughter of svarog. she was taken in by the robot and was raised by him ever since. she's very hyperactive, interacts with everyone in the underground a lot, and charges into a lot of problems without thinking of solutions.

dan heng is now a lieutenant of the cloud knights and the retainer of jing yuan. he doesn't care that much about his past since he now has a duty to the general who raised him. he's not that well liked by the vidyadhara, he keeps getting strange visions about something, and the general has been getting distant recently.

the trailblazer is now the bellboy of the reverie hotel. they're constantly switching between male and female. they have a weird obsessions with clocks, often carry around a baseball bat, and can be found collecting trash in their free time.

[kk095]

Xmas in the ER

*Hello there everyone, and merry Christmas to those who celebrate! As promised, here's my latest story. I hope you all enjoy the story as much as I do, and feel free to shoot me a message, comment, or leave me asks if you have any questions! I will also be posting another story sometime on New Year's Eve.*

As the old saying goes, Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. The holiday is a great opportunity to spend time with loved ones, exchange gifts, and make lifelong memories. But for Dr Lindsay, this year’s Christmas was just another Wednesday where she was tasked with holding down the 7pm to 7am overnight shift in our ER. Naturally, Lindsay was bummed out about the idea of having to work on Christmas, but the emergency department is a 24/7 operation! Little did she know, she’d still have a holiday she’d never forget!

That night, the weather was awful. It was dark, freezing cold, and snowing heavily. Visibility was limited, and the roads were covered in a fresh coat of snow and ice. “Jeez… I bet we’ll have a couple of MVCs tonight.” Lindsay thought to herself shortly after she started driving, trying her best to carefully make her way to work through the frozen, wintery landscape. Fortunately for Lindsay, the roads were mostly empty, most people in the area opting to stay indoors. Even though the roads were empty, the conditions were less than ideal, so she felt the best move was to drive slowly.

Despite Lindsay doing everything in her power to arrive safely at the emergency department, fate had other plans for the cute, sporty tomboy doctor! On the highway about 10 minutes or so from her destination, Lindsay’s car slipped on a patch of ice on the road. The car almost immediately lost control, redirecting the doctor’s vehicle towards a cement barrier in the median of the highway. Lindsay’s heart raced as she white-knuckled the steering wheel, frantically attempting to regain control of the errant vehicle. But it all happened so fast! There was only so much Lindsay could do in those few seconds. Lindsay was unable to stop or change the trajectory of her car and slammed head on into the cement median.

CRUNCH! The windshield shattered, glass fragments flying everywhere inside the vehicle acting almost as little bits of shrapnel. Lindsay raised one arm to attempt to cover her face from the glass shards, but a few nicked her face and neck. The steering column was forced inwards, slamming Lindsay in her chest with tremendous force before being blown back a second or so later when the airbag deployed. “AHHH!” Dr Lindsay yelped, feeling something pop inside her chest. Even with the vehicle stopped after the impact, the momentum generated from the accident caused Lindsay to be thrown around a bit. Just like that, the roles were reversed, and now Lindsay found herself in need of assistance in the ER.

Upon arrival at the emergency department, Lindsay was awake, alert, and doing anything and everything she could to fight through the pain. While being wheeled in through the main entryway of the ER, she was laid out on a backboard atop a gurney with a c-collar around her neck. Lindsay was stripped barefoot, down to just her black sports bra and scrub pants. EKG electrodes and wires were stuck onto her torso, while IV lines were set up in each arm. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around her left bicep, and a pulse oximeter was on her left index finger. The ER doc’s body was in relatively good shape, but she had some cuts and scrapes on her face and neck from the glass shards.

While being wheeled in, Dr Lindsay was experiencing a weird déjà vu of sorts. She’s walked through those same entryway doors more times than she could count, but she never saw the emergency department from that angle. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea of being brought in as a patient. Her pretty blue eyes scanned her surroundings, attempting to make sense of the nonsense. “33 year old female, blunt chest trauma, single car MVC. BP 60 over palp, heart rate’s 140 and climbing, pulse ox down to 90. Got IVs going on scene and started fluids, but her vitals aren’t looking too good.” Lindsay heard a female medic rattle off while wheeling the stretcher down the hall towards trauma room one. “Ok, thank you. Let’s get her over to trauma one. I’m gonna start her on the MTP and get a chest x ray.” A familiar voice replied to the medic. “who is that?” Lindsay thought to herself. “Dr Sarah maybe? I know she was supposed to work the day shift today.” Lindsay answered, still thinking to herself.

The gurney was still being wheeled towards the trauma bay. Dr Sarah leaned over, coming into Lindsay’s line of sight and lowered a stethoscope onto her chest. Sarah didn’t look down at Lindsay’s face, so she didn’t immediately realize who her next patient was. “Diminished breath sounds on the left side, we might need a chest tube.” Sarah observed, pulling her stethoscope away after a brief listen. Dr Sarah then looked down at the gurney, her eyes locking with Lindsay’s. Sarah’s eyes could be seen widening behind her glasses, absolutely stunned at what she was looking at. Sarah gasped, unable to get a word out. “Sarah….?” Lindsay whimpered, her voice weak and breathy. “OHMYGOD, Linds?! What happened?” Marveled Dr Sarah, still processing the concept of Dr Lindsay- a friend and coworker, being her next patient. Lindsay’s lip quivered, her eyes started to moisten. “my car… it just slipped… I don’t know what happened…” Lindsay explained to Sarah, her voice wobbly, now on the verge of tears. “It’s ok Linds, it’s gonna be ok! We’re gonna take a good look at you!” Consoled Sarah, gently grabbing Lindsay’s right hand, her voice a bit panicked.

Once in the trauma room, the stretcher was lined up parallel to the table, where Nurses Heather and Nancy waited. “LINDSAY?!” Heather exclaimed the instant she recognized who the patient was. “Hunny?! What happened?!” Nurse Nancy chimed in, equally surprised. Lindsay didn’t answer, but the familiar voices certainly comforted her through the terrifying uncertainty she was experiencing. “Let’s get her on the table on my count! One… Two… THREE!” Sarah barked out. The trio of beautiful ladies picked up the backboard and carefully moved their coworker onto the table while the paramedics took their stretcher back and exited the room. “Ah….” Winced Lindsay, feeling some pain inside her chest while being placed down on the table. Dr Lindsay squinted, the bright, fluorescent overhead light practically blinding her. “BPs 60 over palp and dropping. Hang 4 units of O-neg and prep Lindsay for a chest tube.” Ordered Dr Sarah, her voice urgent. “Linds? I have to put in a left chest tube. You know how bad they hurt, but be strong for me, ok? I promise I’ll be fast.” Dr Sarah kept Lindsay in the loop about her treatment. Lindsay hesitated for a moment, trying to mentally prepare for the pain she was about to endure. But the logical, doctor side of her took over, realizing that the brutal, painful procedure had to be done. Dr Lindsay’s eyes looked up at Sarah, and she nodded. “Go ahead.” Permitted Lindsay, giving Sarah the green light to begin chest tube placement.

Lindsay laid on the table in the supine position, her left arm raised above along her head. The normally calm and collected Dr Lindsay had a nervous expression on her face. The doctor turned patient’s lips were pinched tight, her forehead puckered, her icy blue-grey eyes looking in the direction of her left ribcage where the tube was to be inserted. She watched Dr Sarah insert a needle full of lidocaine to numb the skin. Lindsay felt a quick pinch, but nothing too worrisome. Sarah then sterilized the incision area with an alcohol wipe. “Ok Linds… Here we go…” The cute, nerdy redhead doctor told Lindsay, reaching for a 10 blade scalpel that sat on an equipment tray beside the trauma room table. Sarah took the scalpel and made a 1 inch cut at the intersection of the 4th intercostal space and anterior axillary line. Lindsay could feel the cold, sharp blade’s every move as it effortlessly slashed her skin apart. Lindsay saw stars, her eyes rolling back in pain. After the cut was made, Sarah attached a Kelly clamp to the proximal end of the chest tube, then bluntly inserted it into Lindsay’s chest cavity. “YAHHH!!!!” Yelped Lindsay, her eyes shooting wide open. Dr Sarah continued the procedure, guiding the tube further into Lindsay’s chest cavity into the pleural space. “AHHHH!!!” Lindsay let out a blood curdling scream, in absolute agony, her eyes tearing up, both her hands making tight fists, feeling the plastic tube forcing its way deeper inside her chest. There was a hiss of air once the tube reached the correct location from trapped air vacating Lindsay’s chest cavity. Lindsay gasped loudly and dramatically, then attempted to sit up. “whoawhoawhoa!” Nurse Heather stepped in, gently laying Lindsay back down on the table. “Stay still for us Linds. So far so good hunny.” Nancy chimed in, gently stroking Lindsay’s hair. Sarah lowered her stethoscope onto Lindsay’s chest and had a listen. “Tube’s in.” Sarah nodded.

Although Lindsay’s breathing improved following the chest tube placement, her vital signs continued to drop. Dr Sarah started another round of blood products and upped Lindsay’s meds, but that didn’t seem to be doing the trick. Lindsay began to shiver dramatically. Her long legs trembled and shook, and at the far end of the bed, her toes were scrunched up hard, showing off the white and red candy cane themed nail polish on her toes, along with the thin, wavy, prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of the big, size 12 feet Lindsay was always so self conscious of. “Mmmmm…” Lindsay moaned. Dr Lindsay began taking rapid, shallow breaths, continuing to moan. “Shhh. It’s ok Linds. Hang in there a little longer for me…” Nurse Nancy’s calm, soothing voice told Lindsay. “I…I…” Lindsay babbled. “You what sweetie?” asked Nancy. “I just… I can’t believe I’m gonna die on Christmas…” Replied Lindsay, an impending sense of doom consuming her. The trio of caretakers in the room stood there frozen for a second, taken aback by Lindsay’s response. Nobody could believe that words like that were coming from Lindsay’s mouth. “You’re not dying hunny! We need you here New Year’s Eve! You know how we get slammed every year!” Nancy tried to encourage, her tone of voice upbeat and positive. “New Year’s Eve? Pshhh…” Lindsay scoffed, continuing to shiver. “I’m gonna be toe tagged and under a sheet in a little while…. Forget New year’s…” continued Lindsay. “No hunny, don’t say that! We’re gonna fix you up!” Nancy reassured, her voice getting a bit wobbly, upset by how Lindsay was talking about her own fate.

Before Lindsay could even answer, she started gasping loudly, taking deep, dramatic gasps. The heart monitors began beeping louder and faster, playing an almost ominous tone. “She’s crashing…” Heather announced. “linds? Stay with us hunny!” Nurse Nancy said to Lindsay, holding her right hand for a second. Again, Lindsay didn’t answer. Her frantic hyperventilating continued, her eyes WIDE open. “We need to intubate. 8.0 ET and a laryngoscope!.” Ordered Sarah, her voice roaring through the room. “Lindsay? I’m gonna intubate you, ok?” Sarah told Lindsay, moving to the head of the bed. Dr Lindsay looked up at Dr Sarah, their eyes locking for a moment. Lindsay looked like she was trying to mouth something, but couldn’t get the words out. “What’s up Linds?” asked Sarah. Lindsay didn’t answer. Her eyes shifted away from Sarah’s. Lindsay’s eyes remained wide open, but became locked at the ceiling. It was like a switch was flipped. Lindsay’s shivering and gasping came to an abrupt stop. The monitors began to alarm at that point. “V-fib! Starting compressions!!!” Nurse Heather shouted out. Heather immediately began chest compressions, pushing down on Lindsay’s chest hard and fast. Nancy swooped in, snipping off Lindsay’s sports bra, exposing her small breasts and hard nipples. At the head of the bed, Sarah got right to it, beginning rapid sequence intubation. The nerdy redheaded doctor carefully navigated the flexible plastic tube into her friend’s airway. Lindsay’s head bobbed and lolled around from the residual force of Heather’s hearty compressions, creating a moving target for Sarah- nothing that Sarah couldn’t handle! The breathing tube was navigated further into Lindsay’s airway, ending up in the correct depth and location in a matter of seconds. “I’m in!” Sarah confidently announced, taping the tube in place.

Post-intubation, the trauma team decided to shock Lindsay. The defibrillator paddles were charged to 200 joules, gelled, and pressed up against Lindsay’s bare, flat chest. “Alright! Everyone…CLEAR!” Sarah shouted, sending the first shock into the patient once everyone backed away. “MMMPH!” Lindsay moaned, as if she felt the shock. The first defibrillation didn’t do the trick, onto the second one! The defibs were recharged to 250 joules, and shock #2 was promptly delivered. “Mmm….” Moaned Lindsay, again, almost as if she knew what was being done to her. Shocks one and two didn’t do the trick, but third time’s the charm, right? The paddles were charged up to 300, and Lindsay was shocked. Her chest shot up and her back arched. She held that position for a second or two before plopping down onto the orange backboard. “Damn it, no change! Shocking again at 360. Everyone… CLEAR!” Barked Dr Sarah. KA-THUNK! Lindsay’s 6’1 frame was tossed around effortlessly by the stronger shock, but like before, v-fib persisted. With the paddles still pressed up against Lindsay’s bare chest, Sarah shocked Dr Lindsay again at 360 joules. At the far end of the table, Lindsay’s feet kicked up, slamming back down hard half a second later, wrinkling the soles of her big feet once again.

Following the fifth shock, the trauma team switched gears, giving CPR and ambu bagging another try. Heather placed the heel of her gloved hand on the middle of Lindsay’s chest and began pumping away hard and fast. Lindsay’s chest caved in, and her toned belly with abs rippled and jiggled out from the sheer force of the chest compressions. Heather felt Lindsay’s ribs break, but nonetheless, she kept up her life saving efforts. At the head of the bed, Nurse Nancy attached the ambu bag to the ET tube, puffing the light blue bag every few seconds or so, sending critically needed oxygen directly into the coding doctor’s lungs. Dr Sarah stood off to the side of the table injecting the first doses of epinephrine and atropine into Lindsay’s IV line in hopes of stimulating positive cardiac activity. While waiting for the meds to kick in, Heather kept at it, brutally going to town on her coworker (now patient’s) chest. Heather looked down at Lindsay’s face while continuing CPR. Lindsay’s head bobbed and bounced around in sync with each individual compression. Her eyes were WIDE open, her face locked in a full-blown death stare. The ET tube hung out the side of Lindsay’s mouth, taped in place, hugging her pale lips. Heather couldn’t believe a familiar face was in such dire shape. “The ones with their eyes open never make it…” Heather thought to herself. Back at the head of the table, Nancy continued ambu bagging. “You’ve got a long life ahead of you… We all love you and need you here Linds…” Nancy whispered into Lindsay’s ear, as if she was trying to convince Lindsay to not die.

Over the coming minutes, Lindsay’s chest began to take an absolute beating. A nasty bruise started to form in the center of her chest on top of the breastbone. Mid code, Lindsay’s chest tube began to drain a substantial amount of blood seemingly out of nowhere. “What the hell?...” A surprised Dr Sarah thought out loud. In the blink of an eye, a couple liters of blood drained through the tube. “She’s bleeding somewhere in her chest. Maybe a cardiac chamber or great vessel injury.” Speculated Sarah, trying to explain away what she was seeing. “I’m gonna do an echo. Let’s see what her heart’s doing. Maybe that’ll give me something to work with.” Sarah went on. With CPR ongoing, Sarah squirted a little bit of clear, conductive ultrasound gel onto Lindsay’s bare chest. She turned on the ultrasound monitor screen and lowered the wand onto the portion of Lindsay’s chest where the gel was and began moving it around for a second or two to spread it out a bit. Sarah then moved the ultrasound wand over Lindsay’s heart and eyes the monitor screen. “….oh Lord…what a mess in there…” Uttered Sarah. “Hmm?” Heather overheard. “Massive tamponade.” Sarah shook her head. “Pericardiocentesis?” asked Heather, wondering what the next step was. “I don’t think that’ll do the trick. We need to crack her chest and see what’s really going on in there. I’m gonna set up a thoracotomy tray.” Sarah explained to Nurse Heather. Nurse Heather’s eyes went wide once she heard the word “thoracotomy.” That was a last ditch effort, hail Mary procedure used in the most critical patients. Heather has seen many patients get their chest cracked during her time as a nurse in our ER, but the idea of a friend, coworker, and familiar face being the recipient of such a procedure really bothered Heather at a deeper level.

Betadine was splashed across the left half of Lindsay’s chest. The strong, chemical scent of antiseptic hit everyone’s nostrils in less than a second. Sarah picked up the scalpel, making a crude, but decisive incision. The cut started just to the left of Lindsay’s sternum, extended laterally across her chest, underneath her left nipple, and concluding just shy of her left armpit. Heather halted CPR while Sarah worked to separate the underlying tissue and muscle to make way for the rib spreader. With an adequate space created, the metal rib retractor was placed, and Lindsay’s chest was forcefully pried open. A loud popping and cracking sound echoed around the room while Sarah turned the knobs on the spreader. Upon entry to Lindsay’s chest cavity, there was a massive rush of blood. “Suction! SUCTION!” Shouted Sarah, packing handfuls of surgical sponges into the fresh incision area. Heather lowered a suction tube into Lindsay’s chest cavity and began removing the excess blood to create a good line of sight for Sarah. The suction tube made a wet slurping sound as it removed the blood. Meanwhile, Sarah incised the fibrous lining of the pericardium to relieve the tamponade and placed a vascular clamp on the descending aorta in order to redirect blood flow and quell any arterial bleeding- at least temporarily. Heather continued to apply suction every few seconds or so, the line of sight clogging up with blood like clockwork. “Starting cardiac massage.” Announced Sarah, reaching into Lindsay’s chest, beginning to vigorously massage away at Lindsay’s strong, athletic heart. Sarah’s gloved hands were wrapped firmly around the beautiful tomboy doctor’s heart, squeezing much needed blood to the rest of her body. A wet, rhythmic squishing sound was produced from Dr Sarah’s internal resus efforts. “Come on… come on Linds…” uttered Sarah under her breath.

Sarah squeezed and squeezed, but her multiple cycles of cardiac massage failed to restart Dr Lindsay’s heart. Next up, the team opted to give the internal paddles a try. The internal paddles were charged to 20 joules and lowered into Lindsay’s chest around her erratically twitching heart. THWACK! Lindsay’s heart tensed up for a second before going right back to v-fib. Sarah sighed. “No change, going again at 30. Everyone… CLEAR!” Sarah shocked again. Lindsay’s torso jolted sharply in response to the shock, but v-fib remained. “Hitting her again at 40!..... CLEAR!” Sarah’s voice surged. “Mmm….” Lindsay moaned in reaction to the shock. “she’s still in v-fib, let’s go again…. CLEAR!” Sarah yelled out passionately. A dull, wet thump was heard, however, Lindsay’s heart still couldn’t be shocked out of v-fib. “AGAIN!... CLEAR!” Yelled Sarah, lowering the blood soaked internal paddles back onto Lindsay’s cracked open chest. “Still nothing. Recharging the internal paddles to 40!” Sarah announced, her tone of voice growing more and panicked. The high pitched, electrical whirring sound of the paddles recharging bounced around the room. “Ok…. CLEAR!” Sarah defibbed Lindsay again. Almost instantly after the shock, the heart monitors flatlined. Lindsay’s heart sat completely motionless in plain sight. Dr Sarah removed the large, spoon shaped paddles and gently set them back on the crash cart. Sarah began removing her gloves and eyeing the clock on the wall. “It’s over. Time of death, 19:35.” Sarah called out, abruptly terminating the code.

The trio of caretakers stood there shell shocked for a moment while the high pitched hum of the flatlined monitors droned around the room. Nancy removed the ambu bag, a small amount of air quietly hissing out. Heather switched off the monitors, making the once loud, chaotic room eerily silent. Nobody said a word, but knew exactly what to do next. The IV lines were taken out of each arm. The EKG electrodes were disconnected. The BP cuff was taken off Lindsay’s left bicep. The pulse oximeter was taken off her left index finger. A blue surgical drape was hastily tossed on top of the thoracotomy site. Lindsay’s eyes remained wide open as her body was covered, appearing as if she watched the sheet get pulled over her head. Last but not least, a toe tag was filled out and placed on the big toe of Lindsay’s left foot. The tag dangled in front of Lindsay’s hot, wrinkly soles, serving as a harsh reminder that no Christmas miracles would be taking place that night. In this alternate reality, Lindsay was now the latest beauty who found herself toe tagged and under a sheet in our emergency department.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

This is what it felt like getting the notification that Wade found out about Logan being the baby daddy 😭

Logan let the first punch land, more out of courtesy than anything. Wade was pissed- rightfully so. "You fucking asshole-"

'Listen bub-"

"Fuck you," Wade spat. "I told you not to do it and what did you do?"

"It's not like I forced-"

Stab. Okay that was still fair. "Did you tell her to say it wasn't yours? Huh?"

Stab Stab

"No," he growled, pulling the knives out and sinking his claws into Wade's arm far enough that he's stop fucking stabbing him for a second. "That was her doing. After I broke it off with her-"

Wade cracked him in the jaw with his free hand and barred his teeth, "And what? Now you wanna play daddy? Wanted to see if she'd fall apart without you? See what the fuck was going to happen? Took you this long to Do. The. Math?"

The fighting hadn't stopped. Blood spattered the street like garnets. Bits of torn clothing and smashed glass. Wade Hade Logan pinned to the ground, a handgun against his forehead. Infuriated. For weeks he'd watched you put up a front and try to make it seem like you were fine. Like you weren't wallowing. Like you weren't petrified. And now that he could put the piece together the fury that gripped him was palpable.

"Wade!"

The panic in your voice made both men turn to look. You looked distraught and as you ran out into the street, barefoot, still in your pajamas, Wade flipped the safety back on.

"Wade don't-" You shove uselessly at him, trying to get him off of Logan and swallow hard. "Don't-"

"There's glass everywhere, Christ," he said, getting off of Logan and pulling you into a bone-crunching hug. "Fucking-" He broke off and tucked your head against his shoulder. "Fine. I won't shoot him."

"I told her to stay inside," Logan groaned, getting up.

"You're still on thin ice," Wade snapped, hefting you up to take you inside. But he looked at you and kissed your forehead, "C'mon butterbean. No Hyperviolence for you and Jelly Bean today."

Are you both-"

"We're fine, Princess," Logan answered, coughing. "And no. I didn't stab him in the head."

[itsphoenix0724]

I love your fics. Could you do an Azriel x Reader fic based on the song Hate Me by Blue October? It could lend itself to a great premise. The song didn't have a happy ending so I think the fic wouldn't need to either. I think it could be that Reader and Azriel were together (not mates) and Az did something to cause the Reader pain. And I feel like the fic could be vignettes of the IC spending time together and Reader ignoring him. Maybe even it could end with Reader finding someone new and moving on. If you like the idea, thanks in advance!

Hate Me (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Hi lovely! Thank you so much for your request. I love me a good angst fic lol. I tried a different formatting for this, so we'll see how you guys feel about it! I hope you enjoy, please feel free to visit my page anytime <3

If you’re sleeping, are you dreaming? If you’re dreaming are you dreaming of me? 

Azriel bolts upright in bed, chest heaving with shaking breaths that he can’t keep in. His hand instinctively reaches out to your side of the bed, but it meets nothing but cotton, fabric slipping through his fingers like water. You had been there, for a few blissful moments, holding him as you always had when the nightmares roused him from sleep. Now he was alone, and no one was at fault for it but himself. 

I had to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head. They crawl in like a cockroach, leaving babies in my bed 

He may have hated himself for it but he tried to find comfort elsewhere, when he wasn’t working he was in the slums of Vlearis, drinking himself to the point of blacking out. He needed to forget your face, your voice, your smell. He couldn’t stand to be in the house the two of you had shared, not when your phantom was constantly haunting the halls, chasing him down at every turn. He thinks of you barefoot, singing and padding around the kitchen in nothing but your nightgown, and orders another shot.

And will you never say that you loved me just to put it in my face? And will you never try to reach me? It is I that wanted space. 

Azriel wanted you to yell at him, he wanted you to scream your rage so hard that the mountains rumbled. He could have taken that, he wanted it even. But what he couldn’t take is your indifference. Family dinners at the River House were mandatory, and Azriel tried to attend as few of them as possible. Mainly because you were always there. You had every right to attend, and you were always pleasant to him. Sending him tight-lipped smiles and polite nods, even passing him the potatoes at dinner. It was like looking in a warped mirror, a portrait someone had poured water over. His former happiness was nothing but running paint. 

Hate me today, Hate me tomorrow. Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you. 

“Another mission?” You questioned from the doorway as Azriel was shoving things into a pack. “But you just got back yesterday?” Azriel sighed deeply, buckling the pack shut and hauling it over his shoulder.  “I know, I’m sorry but this is a serious matter.” His shoulders were tense, the dark circles under his eyes still prominent from not resting.  “How long will you be gone?” Your brows furrow. “A week at least,” came his tense reply. You were quiet for a moment, and the tension that filled the room could be cut with a knife.  “You’ll miss our anniversary, can’t they send someone else?” Your broken tone hurt his heart, but he persisted.  “Rhys needs this done urgently.” He pressed, fastening the straps of his leathers. “Rhys would never miss his and Feyre’s anniversary.” You snapped, the annoyance finally wearing on you.  “Well Rhys and Feyre are mates,” Azriel bit back and immediately regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. You took a step back, the betrayal shining clear on your features.  “Fine then, enjoy your mission.” You left his study, and he could hear the bedroom door slamming behind you.  He should’ve gone after you, he should’ve gone upstairs and begged for your forgiveness, but he left.  And he would regret that decision for the rest of his life.

While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight. You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicide and hate. You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take

He returned from the mission and your things were gone. No trace was left of you in the apartment you once shared except for a letter on the kitchen table. Even in your goodbye, you weren’t angry, it was like you knew that this was coming for a while, but he was completely blindsided.  He could still recite the letter back from memory.  Azriel read it repeatedly, it was still in the back of a drawer in his office, unable to bear getting rid of it.  “Dear Azriel,  I’m sorry to leave you like this, however, I know that if I were to try in person I would fail. Please know I still love you, a part of my heart will always be yours to possess, but I cannot continue a relationship with a ghost. I need you to know a few things. Please don’t hate yourself for this, you tried your best but you are too obsessed with your work. I wish you could see that your family values you as a person and not for your abilities. No one would’ve loved you less if you had taken a day off, but I understand your battles. Another thing, do not try to follow me. I am taking some time, to find myself and heal, I hope you will do me this favor and respect that. I hope one day we can be friends. I’m sorry.”  Your name signed at the bottom felt like a brand stamped into his heart, the fact that you felt the need to apologize to him twisted the knife even further. True to his word, he respected your boundaries, and when you finally returned to the Night Court everything was different. You seemed to glow again and laugh again, and Az realized just how much of a shell you had become at the end of your relationship. 

And with a sad heart, I say bye to you and wave. Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made.

It was bittersweet for Azriel when you finally brought home your new partner. A male you met in Dawn on an emissary trip. The rest of the inner circle warmed to him quickly, as much as it pained Az to admit he was a good male. Theon made you blush, and laugh and was completely devoted to you. He gave you everything Azriel himself could not and he was happy for you. When it came time for Azriel to introduce himself, he glanced once at you running your teeth between your bottom lip with worry, and decided he would no longer be a barrier to your happiness. So, he did his best to smile and shook the male's hand to introduce himself.  You were happy, that was all that mattered to him. 

Hate me in ways, yeah, ways hard to swallow. Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

[elusivewildflower]

i would love to hear your domestic six thoughts (if you have any)

Oooo, yes I do have some domestic Six thoughts! Domestic Six and letting him be all soft is probably one of my favorite things to think about, and some of these will tie in heavily with The Other Fitzroy series. Shout out to @lloydsbitch for brainstorming with me for some non-smutty ideas 🤣

I think that after Six gets away from the CIA that he will teach himself how to become a handyman. He's not used to having so much free time, so he needs something that will keep his mind and body active. I feel his father probably taught him some things, since he was so determined to make his sons "macho," and that he's learned things as needed throughout his life -- but I'm talking about learning how to remodel a whole house just for you. You want to turn that spare room with a lovely view into a library? He'll build bookcases and a window seat by hand to transform it into the space you've dreamed of.

Whenever he's not busy keeping active, he's more than happy to sit on the couch and binge watch your favorite shows and movies. Six hasn't exactly had the time or internet access to watch everything that's came out in the last 20 years, so he has a lot to catch up on. Expect to spend several nights a week and potentially all weekend cuddled up on the couch, his arm wrapped around your waist and your head on his chest. But if you're watching an action movie, he won't be able to stop himself from calling out everything that's unrealistic.

Six clearly likes to be self-reliant after retiring, so he also has a garden in the backyard that he tends to on a daily basis. You certainly enjoy watching him tend to the crops from the covered porch. He's shirtless, dripping with sweat and covered in dirt by the time he comes up to you for a refreshing glass of lemonade. It's also fun to watch him chop firewood in the fall with a steaming cup of hot cocoa. He might be wearing more layers in the cold air, but the sound of his grunts carry across the yard and straight to your.....*ahem*

There was never much time for date nights while on the run, so Six makes quality time one of his big priorities after you've settled down. It still can be difficult to achieve with a child to take care of, but at least Claire is old enough to babysit for a few hours. Something easy that the two of you enjoy is taking a drive out to get ice cream (and maybe some fries to dip in it? I love salty & sweet, sue me.) and sitting together in the car. You'll find someplace to park and eat your dessert, happily chatting or snuggling up to each other. And if you can't manage to get away from the house, then Six will go out and get the treats for you after the kids are asleep. You'll cuddle up on the couch, or on the loveseat on the porch during the summer, and fall deeper in love with the sweet man by your side.

smutty thoughts are under the cut.......

For starters, I want to give credit to @hederasgarden for this because she's the one who said Six has a housewife kink and I fully agree with it. By no means is he a lazy partner, but he does love to watch you cook in the kitchen and clean around the house. Both of those things make him look at you with hearts in his eyes and a growing erection in his pants. Especially if you happen to be wearing a pretty sundress. If the two of you are home alone when he gets riled up, he'll take you anywhere. He'll fuck you on the countertop, bend you over the side of the couch, or even halfway up the stairs on the way to the bedroom.

I also believe that Six has a major breeding kink. It might take him a year or two of being safe & settled to fully give himself into the kink, but once he does, he wants to pump you full of his seed every night. Six wants to see you barefoot and pregnant, and better yet — in a pretty sundress — and he won't rest until he gets it. If you thought him being riled up with his housewife kink was bad, just wait until he has to have you morning, noon, and night while you're ovulating. 🫣

After having kids, it's a lot harder to get that alone time together, but Six will happily sneak you away for a quickie. He knows your body so well that he can get both of you off in under ten minutes. Laundry needs switched over? He'll follow you in to "help." As soon as the dryer is on, he's got you bent over it — the sound of clothes tumbling around helps cover the noise of him pounding into you. Your baby just went down for a nap? Six will take you into your shared bedroom for a quickie, giving you an orgasm that puts you right to sleep. After all, you should be sleeping when the baby is, right? You need your rest, and while two of the most important people in his life are napping, he'll go downstairs to clean up the house or prep for dinner.

[artmopworks]

added yuuta and did a quick color!

Some head canons that could either work in DF au or in just in general. This isn't an exhaustive list by any means but these are some that really stick in my brain for some reason.

Toge:

-Goes through a period of intense self reflection and weed use in his mid 20s.

-He grows his hair out and wears it in a bun for about year. Maki would say he was depressed but he denies it for awhile before seeking help.

- Definitely had a phase where he does nothing but build Gundam's in his spare time.

-Finally accepts his lactose intolerance at 29 after Yuuta kicks him out of bed for the 10th night in a row because he insisted on having ice cream for dessert.

-Makes a point of telling Yuuta and Maki he loves them every day.

Maki:

-Gets a trendy short hair cut in her early 20s and is unable to look in the mirror for at least 3 months after as she would only see mai looking back at her.

-After years of rejecting her own femineity as a result of struggling for acceptance from her clan in her youth, she finally embraces the idea that she can enjoy feminine things without it being seen as a sign of weakness.

-Nishimiya and Miwa made a point of visiting with Maki after they graduate to share stories about Mai. The three of them eventually become close friends.

-gets really into knitting in her 30s. Toge teases her once and she throws one of the needles so hard it sticks in the wall 2 inches from his head. He never teases her about it again.

Yuuta:

-incredibly doting on Toge and Maki. She asks him to chill out after the 4th time they're mistaken for a married couple in public. He does not.

-Goes through a depressive period right along with Toge, often encouraging, albeit unknowingly, some of their more reclusive behaviors.

-Gets super into barefoot style footwear in his early 30s. Toge hated the way all his shoes looked. Later realized it was giving him knee pain and gave it up.

-Full on coffee snob in his mid 20s.

-Reconnects with his parents and younger sister after graduating and they happily accept Toge as part of their family.

-Regularly has "bro time" with Hakari.

feel free to comment your head canons about these 3!

[balthazarusrex]

Wednesday WIP Game Fill 11/20/24

Fill requests for @wizisbored @twyrewolf @aparticularbandit @somefishycat @zyrafowe-sny @eriquin @bald-rights @asha10100101010 @enigma-the-mysterious for Whumpcember Day 15 - broken glass.

Requests were made in the amazing Wednesday Wip Game Community. Thank you so much for pushing me to write! I hope you check us out and play!

Written in tandem with @ditzyredrobin.

CW: minor blood and injury

-

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispers, hot tears finally slipping down his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, doll, come ‘ere,” Jason sighs, gathering their Baby Bird in his arms like the delicate thing he is. “You don’t gotta be sorry about anything, me ‘n Roy are always gonna come when you cry. You hear me?”

“But-“

“But nothing. Don’t gotta to worry ‘bout nothing but bein’ here with me now, yeah?” Jason says, in that silky, loving drawl of his. “‘sides, if anything, I should say sorry to you. I wouldn’t expect Roy to let you go ‘til at least the bottoms of your feet have healed up.”

A week or so of cuddles on the couch might be nice, he thinks absently, burrowing into Jason’s neck. He’s warm and solid and protects him from the lazy Gotham drizzle.

“That Roy still on the phone?” Jason rumbles, cradling him to his chest with one arm, using his free hand to open the passenger side door.

“Oh,” Tim blinks, pulling the phone away, Roy with Lian, grinning, covered in ice cream after an ice cream fight Jason was less than thrilled about. “Yes.”

Jason settles him in the car, the heated seat already on high and toasty under his ass, “Can I talk to him?”

“Okay,” Tim agrees distantly, holding it out. He doesn’t think there’s anything else he can say.

Jason, ignoring the blood smears on the screen, takes it, holding it between his shoulder and ear as he buckles him in. He pushes Tim back against the headrest, his hand gentle yet firm.

Tim just rolls with it.

The heater is on full blast but it doesn’t fully chase away the chill.

He becomes aware of the seatbelt clicking into place and Jason taking above him but the words don’t register. He doesn’t mind, though, letting his eyes shut.

When he opens his eyes again, Roy is opening his door, eyes wide and so so green, looking a little frantic.

“Pretty,” Tim mumbles, letting himself be manhandled out of the car.

Jason snorts behind him which Roy pointedly ignores, but a little tension eases from his shoulders. “Let’s get you upstairs, ‘kay? I have dry clothes and a hot bath waiting for you once we get you patched up. Sound good?”

Dry clothes sounded nice, a bath with his vigilante boyfriends sounded even better.

Roy just smiled and bundled him in close to his chest. When Tim blinked again, he was sat on Roy’s lap while Jason tsked over his over his feet. The tackle box of a first-aid kit was spilled out over the bathroom counter.

“I don’t like this one but, Sweets, somethin’ just ain’t addin’ up. Why was he out there barefoot in the first place?”

Roy hums considering and smoothes the hair off of Tim’s forehead, his touch more gentle than his mother’s. “We’ll just have to wait and ask him,” he says gently. “What do you think, Timmy?”

Tim nods dumbly and winces when Jason pulls out another shard of glass. Jason looks up with an almost apologetic look and Roy presses a kiss to his hair.

[whorediaries-09]

i've got some regrets

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- angst. a/n- let me know if ya'll like this chapter :)

little train. series masterlist.

sirius could remember the day clearly. his mind envisioned it like a movie playing on a roll. the hatred quenched him, as a growing lump of spite nurtured into his throat. when death caught up with the ones he loved, he'd been thrown into a dark seclusion, kept with his own thoughts that drove him into the edge of insanity.

after five years, he had been lit up with a timid flame of hope of freedom. he walked barefoot hidden within his tattered clothes. his face was concealed with his long, matted, untamed hair and his overgrown beard. the lights of the room blind him, unaccustomed to such light.

he walks towards the light trying to break free. but his fierce soul has been tied down by heavy metal chains he drags along. he lifts up his head high, staring at the crinkled faces of the wizengamot. among them, his eyes land on albus dumbledore - his mentor and tutor, the betrayer. his blood boils as he walks towards the chair he's assigned.

invisible strings conjure from thin air, wrapping around his thin body, tying him down to the metal chair. his bony back hits the metal, and a sharp pain excruciates within him. he stares around the room, looking for cornelius fudge. he observes everyone slowly, trying to read through the people. that is until he's distracted by the sound of rubbing shoes against polished tiles.

you walk into the room, and suddenly you're the center of attention. every eye is on your form as your cloak flows with your graceful walk. there are hidden whispers and soft murmurs, that reach your eyes, but that doesn't blur your confidence. you're strengthened by the gazes that follow your footsteps.

the attention doesn't behead your feeling of joy, instead it fuels the fire within you. you catch sirius gazing at you, and you maintain the eye contact with a small smile on your face. walking towards him, you execute out your wand, ripping apart the ties around him with a simple spell. the wizengamot collectively gasps.

'your hand, mr. black,' you say. sirius stares at you with the same cold gaze the first time he'd talked to you. but there's a lace of scrutiny within his eyes that had been absent the last time. he'd been ignorant your voice and you, staring at you. but now, it seems along with a timid flame of hope has lit up a flame of curiosity. he gives you his hand. its dirty, calloused and rough. you hold it with a sheer aura of authority, and look sharply into his eyes. he speaks, low and soft.

'do you vow to give me the freedom i deserve?' he asks, finding his heart thump against his rib.

'yes,' you say.

'do you vow to give me the lawful justice as an unjustified verdict?' he says. he wanders his eyes around the room, catching the ice blue hue of dumbledore's eyes.

'yes,'

'do you vow to not betray me?' he asks, biting his teeth with pure rage. the pressure on your hand increases but you don't flinch. nodding your head, you reply,

'yes.'

*-

cornelius sits on the high chair, skimming through pages on his desk. he watches sirius' unbound hands through his glasses. uncomfortable and visibly shaky underneath the confident gaze thrown by the latter, he looks back onto the sheets.

'so, alastor moody's lovely recruited auror has decided to take upon mr. black's closed case.' he announces. his eyes shift to you. you provide him with a sickly sweet grin.

'i'm my own person, mr. fudge. i'm not alastor moody's lovely recruit.' you say. he coughs up your name, scrunching his eyebrows.

'okay, so may i ask why? any personal attachment with mr. black.'

'no,' you say simply, 'i became an auror to fight against injustice. sirius black's case is the most infamous one. yet it's so...incomplete. no trial.' your eyes shift to dumbledore.

'it seems,' you click your tongue, 'injustice is not a very uncommon affair within the ministry. a trial for sirius black wasn't even filed. i'm wonderstruck, because mr. black showed loyalty to the order nobody else did.'

'now i'm forced to believe he'd been put behind because of his... past, the ties to his family name. but that still doesn't add up, considering his very lovely cousin bellatrix got a trial in her name. the stakes of you-know-who were high at the time. and every case i've analyzed was put under a proper trial, since dark magic knows no end. i believe, mr. fudge, it was pure hypocrisy on the ministry's part.'

you twist the end of your sleeve, waiting for a response. fudge babbles his head, sliding his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

'there was no need to. sirius black was made the secret keeper and that was not a rumor!' he says.

'that, is where the ministry went wrong. dark magic knew no bounds at those times!' you say. while the anger bubbles inside you, you stay calm and serene, not wanting more headlines and gossip by rita skeeter printed on the daily prophet.

'fine then. but i must warn you you're getting too ahead with your authority. just because you were positioned to be an auror earlier than others doesn't mean-'

'mr. fudge i have proved myself mentally and physically capable of being an auror, have i not? maybe let's not discuss my abilities and waste time. time is money after all.' he closes his mouth, his thin lips disappearing within the folds of his loose skin. he scratches his eyebrow.

'so, what evidence have you got to defend ... mr black?' sirius stares at him intensely. with every word that the minister spills from his filthy lips, it infuriates him to the core. but as soon as you serenely defend your values, he gains a feeling of satisfaction. somehow your calmness fuels his fire of hope. somehow your presence calms his rotting nerves.

'we don't have any eye witnesses. the muggles' memory had been wiped off by the officials, as per the record. now, the only evidence is his own words. and-'

'that's bonkers! don't you think he would lie?' cornelius interrupts. staring piercely into his eyes, you whisper.

'maybe that's why we have something called veritaserum. maybe if justice for a wrongly convicted verdict would've been of importance to this rigged system, mr. fudge, you would've had your brain functioning properly.'

'so, that's your evidence?'

'yes. the wizengamot acts as witness to what he says. then we give him veritaserum, and we see if we says the truth or not.' you walk towards him, retrieving a bottle of potion from the folds of your cloak.

'here's the veritaserum that i've prepared. alastor moody has checked upon it, for any faults and in the papers have been put on your table. there's no sign of any mishaps.' fudge gathers the papers, coughing a confirmation.

'fine. mr. black, proceed, with your part of the story.' the wizengamot stares at him. sirius feels confidence rush back into his body as you touch him, squeezing his shoulder, encouraging you. you bend down, tucking a stray piece of matted hair behind his ear.

'don't be heated. you'll beat the charge if you beat the heat.'

the hurricane screams his name, washing away the deathless death that had captured him into a quiet treason.

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original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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[choicesaugustchallenge]

WELCOME || RULES || PROMPTS || HOST || MASTERLIST

Word prompts, activity/quote prompts, aesthetic prompts, and fashion prompts oh my!

Feel free to use a single prompt or a combination. No rules apply to to these prompts and how many or few or which combination you can use. Have fun!

Daily Word Prompts

Day 1: sundress

Day 2: beach date

Day 3: swimming/ skinning dipping

Day 4: fireworks

Day 5: summer heat

Day 6: summer wine

Day 7: sunshine

Day 9: summer holiday

Day 10: late night talking under the stars

Day 11: barbecue

Day 12: joyride

Day 13: sunburn

Day 14: road trip

Day 15: take me out to the ballgame/ outdoor games

Day 16: heatwave

Day 17: thunderstorms

Day 18: nightclub

Day 19: pool party

Day 20: tan lines

Day 21: one towel

Day 22: popsicle

Day 23: bonfire

Day 24: swimsuit

Day 25: summer romance

Day 26: outdoor movie night

Day 27: too hot to handle

Day 28: swimming lessons

Day 29: birthday

Day 30: summer wedding

Day 31: eternal summer

Activity and Quote Prompts

tackling and splashing water at one another

going on a picnic date

wearing sun-dresses and your partner absolutely can't get enough of it

cycling at sunset together

dancing around a bonfire

laying on their chest while watching the sunrise

laying in bed all day together with fans on

going out to get ice cream at 2 am

when one loves to cuddle and the other hates feeling sticky

unwinding by swimming together at night

accidentally going to a horrendous summer party and finding each other and going, "We gotta get outta this!"

"Why won't you hug me?" "I love you, but you're sweaty and disgusting.” “Ok then join the club, let's be sweaty and disgusting togeth-"

sprawling on the floor like a starfish in the middle of the living room with all fans at high speed

summer person x winter person

“If you’re not barefoot, you’re overdressed.”

“Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.”

"Being in love is like a rollercoaster and a stroll on the beach rolled into one."

Late Summer Aesthetic Prompts

[1][2 & 3][4] [5][6]

Summer Fashion Prompts

[1] [2] [3] [4] [6 & 10] [7 & 8] [9] [11 & 12]

[justwritedreams]

Hey can i request one where Sehun and the reader are having a romantic date in Paris, and confess their feelings for eachother infront of the eiffel tower?

Ok I really recommend everyone to read it while listening to From the Jump by James Arthur. You can thank me later.

I just wanna spend forever with you | Sehun

Word count: 794 Genre: fluff Author: maari  Warnings: none Note: I'm gonna cry in the corner thank you

⫷ Exo Masterlist

Y/N had her eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze of that perfect, sunny day. Her heart was calm in her chest, but anxiety was taking over the tip of her stomach, and it wasn't hunger because she had just had breakfast in the hotel suite she was in.

A silly, involuntary smile took over her face, she was so happy that there was no way anyone couldn't notice.

And that smile only grew when she felt strong arms wrap around her waist, she opened her eyes as soon as Sehun's chin rested on her shoulder.

"A rose for your thoughts." he said after placing a kiss on her bare skin, making her look at his hands on her body.

He held a red rose in his right hand and she took the flower.

"I'm thinking about last night." she admitted softly as her cheeks heated up, appreciating the flower. "It was magical."

She rested her head on Sehun's strong chest, feeling him place a kiss on her cheek.

Y/N and Sehun had arrived in Paris the day before, and spent the day as ordinary tourists walking the streets hand in hand. In the evening, they had dinner at a fancy restaurant while talking about their respective lives.

It was a miracle that they had both taken a vacation at the same time and Sehun had the brilliant idea of ​​spending their days together in Paris. More than just a gentleman, he was being thoughtful and the sparkle in his eyes every time he looked at her was making Y/N's legs tremble.

After dinner, they went to the hotel room he had booked with a view of the Eiffel Tower. The room was full of rose petals on the floor and in the bed, also candlelight scattered on the room. It was the first time they had a long night of love, something they had both dreamed of for so long.

"Do you remember? This is where we met." he remembered and she sighed, filled with memories.

"In the summer." she continued.

"You fell on top of me in the middle of the street." he finished, laughing softly and Y/N did the same.

“Because I tripped and my shoe flew into the Seine River.” She brought her free hand to her forehead, embarrassed.

Sehun pulled away only to make her turn to face him, where he took a strand of her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek.

It was a day when the Seine River was crowded with tourists, taking pictures, talking, sitting or lying in the middle of the sidewalk. To avoid a child's ice cream, Y/N ended up tripping over her own feet with her hurried movement and bumped into Sehun, they both fell at the same time with Y/N ​​on top of him and her shoe flew off her foot and fell into the Seine River.

He was gentleman enough not to laugh or argue with her, he helped her up and insisted on taking her to the nearest shoe store so she could buy a new pair of shoes. Of course she refused, the stores in Paris were too expensive, but he insisted and even made her lean on his shoulder so she wouldn't step on the ground barefoot.

It was impossible not to notice how good Sehun smelled or how handsome he was. In such a short time, she developed a crush on him that continued when he helped her put on the shoes he insisted on paying for. After that, they exchanged phone numbers and didn't stop talking, consequently meeting up more often. But it was on their date at the Champ de Mars that they both felt something deeper, something that was never really said out loud. "It's even cliché, but I fell in love the moment you fell on top of me." Sehun was serious and calm, he was being sincere and all she did was smile sweetly. "I didn't believe in love at first sight until I met you." Y/N felt her eyes water and hugged him tightly, getting lost in the warmth of his body. Sehun reciprocated in the same way as he stroked her hair. "It's so bad to be away from you when the only thing I want is to spend forever with you." she said and pulled away to bring her free hand to his face. “You will always have this heart of mine. It is only yours.” Sehun pulled her by the waist so that they could seal their lips at once, in a sweet and soft way like the breeze outside, with the Eiffel Tower being the only witness to that passionate promise that was immortalized in that moment of love.

[carnalhaus]

american tradition: title card

subscribe to the substack here.

American Tradition paints an absurd idea of American life, almost cartoonish, with obnoxious usage of the flag, guns, and gas station slushies. It’s completely nonsensical, reminiscent of corn syrup blood and chainsaw massacres. All smiles over here, digital camera family moments punctuated with a severed head, because nothing means anything. I can kill ‘cause in God I trust. It’s evolution, baby! It’s herd behavior! 

Behind all this shocking, violent, bizarre, and brash imagery of the American dream, lies inklings of deeply rooted socioeconomic decline. Urban decay, the rust belt, generational trauma, the war on drugs, and the poverty stricken middle-of-nowhere. It’s a song and dance, an opera, an elaborate fictitious play attempting to make sense of gritty reality. The Northeast is a place of diners, forests, bricks, and factory-working-beauty. 

The culture expressed is something bleak: this is where you’re from, this is what you have, and this is all there is. The nonchalance and acceptance of violence is apart of you and your family before you. There is pride in being a pauper, nobody can take that from you like they took everything else. Cruelty is what it’s all about. Cruelty and hate. Hate and cruelty and no remorse. There aren’t enough mountain lions in the east to kill the deer anymore, but you are an American and you know the barrel of a shotgun like you know the holes in your fathers eyes. You are an American and you kill the weaker ones off like piebald fawns. 

Beautiful women roam around the American wasteland like wildcats, teeth yellow from nicotine and clothes too big or too small because Pizza Hut doesn’t pay well. Beautiful women who should be in magazines with Kate Moss, all cheekbones, pretty eyes, and squared shoulders, with nothing but Cookie Monster pajama pants and a Pure Leaf iced tea, because nothing means anything if the model scouters don’t see you eating Macdonald’s in the mall food court. This is Miss America, patron saint of the All American Massacre. 

There is beauty in the journey of traversing the highway on foot, dodging Ford Wranglers and Honda Civics like corpses reaching out from the River Styx. Barefoot and weary on hot pavement, roadkill in the sun lingering like souls bound to the spirit of the interstate. You hold the fast food bag in your hand like a hawk with a rodent, lukewarm from the journey and greasy with deep fried love, the true American way. Whether your slushie is red, blue, or melted by the sun, it’ll be warm and vibrant when the tremors make you vomit it up later either way, staining your teeth just the same. The Big Gulp and five dollar foot-longs become your saint attributes, what people will remember you by when you leave your things behind in your motel room. 

American Tradition is not white picket fences and jury duty. It’s your neighbor bringing you a plate of food. It’s hitting a buck in the road. It’s crying when your stalker dies. It’s the birth of a newborn. It’s warm, hard, and steely like the freshly fired metal in your pocket. 

US of A, land of the free, where I can get my gun from Walmart, freak out on fentanyl, and get gunned down by the cops all within the same Sunday, day of the lord. Nothing is sacred but the police and the republic, and God bless the holy war on drugs for the good of the people, amen. What’s two things you can put trust in? Your God, and your gun. Your what? Your God, and your gun. My God, and my gun. What’d I say? My God, and my gun. 

[urfavstargirl]

things to manifest: summer edition pt 2 ★

heyy stars, as yall may know my first 'things to manifest: summer edition' post kind of blew up (at least for my standards of blowing up)! since you guys liked it so much i thought i would do a part two! if you have any reccomendations for things to add, drop them in the notes. if you have any 'things to manifest' editions that you want made, send it in my asks <3

★ ice cream and popsicles never melt 🍦

★ lemonade always tastes freshly squeezed 🍋

★ if you don't have one, manifest a trampoline so you can have a cute trampoline sleepover with ur besties

★ manifest your summer being inspired by your fav summer movie/show/book (the summer i turned pretty, OBX etc)

★ free tickets to the new Barbie movie?? 💕💕

★ if you're an upperclassman in hs or a college student, manifest your dream summer internship

★ your summer clothes/swimsuits perfectly compliment ur body

★ running around barefoot doesn't hurt

★ you can see clearly underwater without goggles on 🏊

★ if you wanna move houses, manifest that you move to a house a short walk from the beach

★ every sunset is beautiful and colorful

★ a free telescope (really good ones are super expensive) so you can look at the stars on summer nights  💫🔭

★ waxing your legs/armpits/arms doesn't hurt, or they're just naturally hairless

★ cute summer nails!

★ when you get smoothie bowls, the extra fruit doesn't sink

★ butterflies are drawn to you and they land on your fingers/nose! 🦋

[cowboybrunch]

chapter 16 of Burden of the Reluctant Death is up on AO3!

Summer was like being stripped of my armor, like I had a sunburn even after sitting in the shade. The only respite was Andrew racing me to the public pool, Andrew licking melted ice cream off of his fingers, Andrew sipping an iced tea beneath the oak tree in my front yard. We were barefoot back then. We were children. We were gods. I got to grow up. He's still there—still here, grinning over my shoulder, laughing with a stained tongue.

and a bonus! a Rosalie song:

"last night i wrote my own eulogy / here lies the girl who never let herself be free / ain't it ironic / the first time i was honest / i was gone, gone, gone, gone, gone"

good morning taglist!! happy first friday of the year!!!

@vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @autism-purgatory @rosesonneptune @cartoonghosts @dyrewrites

@whoevenknowswhatimwriting @jev-urisk @mrbexwrites @saturnine-saturneight @gioiaalbanoart

@tragedycoded @the-golden-comet @wyked-ao3

@deanwax @leahnardo-da-veggie