#because i should be able to just go downstairs and get a drink instead of sitting here and dehydrating

[tazzmanian-devil]

like idk needing a job is a fact. but the shame isnt serving me. i have to remind myself of that for everything i do. being ashamed of rotting isnt getting me out of bed. being ashamed of eating junk isnt getting me to eat anything more nutritious. being ashamed of needing shortcuts isnt making me capable of taking the long way around.

[venusindelusion]

Giving In (to the Love): Townie

1st chapter

SUMMARY: If you thought you had terrible luck before, tonight will definitely prove that your life is jinxed when a misunderstanding with a pink haired girl makes your college life a little more difficult. WC: 1.3K PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WARNINGS/TAGS: MDNI, mentions of alcohol, drugs (weed), underage drinking, miscommunication, and obviously cursing. A/N: I'm currently obsessed with Vi and I need more slow burn fics of her so this is totally self indulgent. Also, english isn't my first language so apologies if there is (surely) any mistakes, please enjoy :) more notes at the end btw Second chapter

The loud music throbbed through the walls, echoing in your head as you were waiting outside the bathroom door. It felt like you've been standing there for ages, waiting for whoever was inside to finally let you have the chance to go to the bathroom. You knock on the door again, awaiting an answer, but all you can hear is the sound of that damn music, so you decide to go downstairs again.

Putting a feet in front of the other feels painfully unnatural, all you want to do is lay down and puke somewhere, but you couldn't find any spot that wasn't crowded and you certainly don't want your classmates seeing you in that state. It would be so embarrassing if someone took a picture of you vomiting the noodles you had for dinner because you were so lazy to cook a proper meal before drinking. Now you regret it.

Once you reach the final step of the stairs, you look for your phone in one of your pockets. It's a good thing you decided to wear cargo pants instead of a dress; otherwise, in your state, you would have lost your purse with your phone and little money with it.

"Why are the letters so tiny?" you tried to text your friend, she brought you here and she should be the one to save you now, "She'll understand," you think as the only word you're able to type and text her is "Out".

Looking around you see some people dancing, couples sticking their bodies together and things getting heated. You can feel your legs trembling a bit, unable to hold your weight much longer, your head spinning and the music painfully penetrating your ears. Your friend is nowhere to be seen and you're getting nautious again, so you decide to walk to the kitchen and get some water.

"Fuck, where is it?" you wander around in this unfamiliar house for what felt like forever until you catch a glance at someone coming out from a room with bottles in her hands. You don't recognize her from class, you would've noticed her peculiar blue hair and long braids, and how she looks a bit younger than you or your classmates. She looks back at you with her eyes wide open like a deer in headlights, then laughs and continues her way to what you presume is the backyard. You figure that if she got alcohol bottles from there, there must be water as well.

"Bingo!" you scream a little louder than you'd like once you cross the door and see the kitchen, walking to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. You feel your phone vibrating inside your pocket, you take it out and read your friend's "Coming." reply while taking a sip of that sweet and very much needed liquid.

"Fuck!" you spit the remainings of it, feeling your throat burning and your stomach growling even more than before. Who puts vodka inside a water bottle?

You lay against the kitchen counter for a bit in a lame attempt to stay focused, you just have to stay put and wait for your friend to come find you from wherever she was in this damn house.

Determined to not pass out, you go outside following the blue haired girl's trail to get some fresh air. You feel like your head is going to explode, you've been taking for granted your ability to walk without stumbling into things. Your eyes feel heavy, blinking slower everytime as you work your way outside and coordinate your brain and hand to open the door.

It's way less crowded than you thought, only a few people smoking and chatting, you see a couple making out against the wall like no one can see them. But you can. And it's disgusting.

The air is a bit refreshing, definitely better than the smells of heated bodies, booze and weed that filled the house inside. Not that it makes you any less wasted, but it's something. You go around the house trying to find a spot where no one can see you once your stomach decides it can't take it anymore and you see the blue haired girl from before laying down with her eyes closed and empty bottles surrounding her. She's passed out. Walking as quickly as you can to her, you shake her body and try to wake her up. She does nothing besides groaning and mumbling nonsense, so you start to panic and look around you, begging internally that you can find anyone who's more sober than you to help this girl. Your stomach keeps growling at you and your throat burns, tightens, threatening to throw out all the damn booze you drank before. God, what were you thinking?

The world spins around you as you try to focus your vision on this girl and you were right, she is definitely much younger than you, no alcohol should have been near her at first. You reach for her hand, trying to free the bottle from its hold so you can try and sit her up, worried that she'd throw up and drown in her own puke. It takes all your drunk strength to push the bottles around and move her body. While you're grabbing one of the bottles to throw it away, you hear heavy steps coming closer to you and thank the heavens for hearing your pleading; it must be the help you needed.

You turn around and see a muscular figure, heavy boots stomping on the ground with fierce and her pink hair fluorescent in the lights; she looks back at you with a scowl, her hands in fists and quickens her pace. You gulp.

The air around you gets thicker, heavier, hotter; it's like she's inhaling every atom of oxygen while you shrink down to shrump size, getting closer to you as your head is spinning, trying to focus your vision and stand up.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" she asks, her face so close to yours that the air exhaled feels like a shot straight into your face.

You only manage to mumble something incoherent and she pulls you aside, making you stumble over your own feet as she is starring at the bottles.

"She's wasted…" you hear her whispering to herself, scrunching over to caress the younger girl's face and removing the lose hairs from it, "you gave her fucking booze?" she turns around and stares at you, her gaze filled with rage and frustration, you can feel it burning your eyelids.

"No, I—” your brain is betraying you, you put your hands against the wall trying to remain on your feet and explain the situation, but your throat is threatening to let it all out for good.

She clicks her tongue and lifts the young girl from the ground, holding her like she weights nothing on her arms and takes off, leaving you feeling miserable and confused.

You hear a voice calling your name and fast steps approaching, you turn your head and see your friend. Relief washes over your body, your legs no longer able to hold you standing and you give in so you sit on the grass.

"Cait…" were the only words coming out of your mouth in a whisper before you throw out and felt your eyelids closing themselves.

A/N: comments and reviews are appreciated! if you want more let me know :) i have a long series in mind for this

[steddieas-shegoes]

glad you chased me

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'fame & fortune'

rated t | 991 words | cw: breakup | tags: modern era, famous corroded coffin, angst with a happy ending, gareth gets his man

💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰

Sam was right for what he said, but it still hurt.

Gareth stares out the window of the hotel room he'd booked for them for his one night in Boston, wondering if there's any way he could turn back time. He hasn't even cried yet. He's not sure he can.

The night started great: ordering room service even though they could've gone downstairs to get food, drinking a six pack of beer that Sam brought from his apartment two hours away. They had a movie playing on the tv, but Gareth couldn't tell you what it was if you paid him. He was too caught up in being in Sam's bubble for the first time in nearly three months.

Sam hated taking extended periods of time off during the school year, especially at the beginning. His students were trying to get to know him, and he was trying to get to know them, and he didn't want to cause disruption to their schedules. Gareth understood, of course.

It didn't make it easier.

Gareth couldn't just come visit whenever he wanted, either. The tour had still been going well into September, and instead of being able to take a break when it ended, they immediately had a press tour to announce their next album, followed by Frankie's bachelor party and Jeff's engagement celebration weekend.

He knew it was hard on Sam. He knew Sam was grinning and bearing it. He knew that Sam hadn't signed up for this much when they got together over a year ago.

But he didn't expect Sam to break up with him before room service even got delivered.

Gareth looked over at the cart full of appetizers, desserts, and spaghetti. He couldn't possibly stomach it now.

"I'm not asking to be the priority in your life, Gare, just one of them. You didn't even call me last week. I feel like I'm out of sight, out of mind.

The words Sam used echoed in his head as he retreated to the bed.

The bed they should be sharing tonight.

****

He doesn't sleep. At first, it was because he was worried about Sam making it back to his apartment okay when he'd left in such a hurry, crying and shaking. Then, it was because he'd finally started crying himself, his mind no longer able to ignore what happened.

He watched the sun rise through the window with blurred vision and a headache.

Checkout is 11, but he's not sure he's gonna be ready.

****

Eddie calls him four times before he finally answers.

"Dude, why weren't you answering?"

"Sorry." Gareth knows his voice is fucked when Eddie immediately starts asking if he's alright, if he's sick, if Sam is taking care of him. "Sam isn't here."

Finally, Eddie's silent.

But it's not what Gareth wants. He needs Eddie's chaos and his words that don't always make sense and his wit. He needs the distraction.

"Where is he?" Eddie finally asks.

"His place I think."

"...Gare. What's going on?"

So Gareth does his best to explain. He tells him that Sam admitted he felt like Gareth never picked him, and that it started an argument that they couldn't recover from, and then Sam broke him up with him and left.

Eddie takes it in, lets it sit.

"Is this fame worth losing him?" He finally asks.

Gareth's first thought is yes. Of course his band, his friends, are worth losing a boyfriend.

But the moment he thinks the word boyfriend, he realizes the answer is no.

Because Sam isn't just a boyfriend. Wasn't.

Sam is the love of Gareth's life. Nothing else he ever does will compare to how he feels when he's with him. No amount of fans screaming his name while he plays on stage, or money sitting in his bank account, or famous people he meets will ever touch what Sam is to him.

The fame and fortune means shit if he can't share it with Sam.

"I'll take the silence as a no." Eddie sighs. "You know, Steve told me we should probably take a break. I didn't want to yet, but then Jeff said he wanted to be able to get married next summer and go on an extended honeymoon. Can't do that if we're on tour."

Gareth's breath catches as he listens to Eddie.

"This album doesn't have to tour, ya know. We could just take a year off after it's released. Plan something for later."

"We could?" Gareth feels tears gathering in his eyes again. "Wouldn't they be mad?"

"Probably. But you know I live to piss off upper management. And sometimes Steve. He's cute when his face gets all red."

Gareth lets out a wet laugh. "So if I tell Sam we're taking a break, no one's gonna be mad at me?"

"Nope." Eddie pops the 'p' and laughs. "Couldn't be mad at you anyway, man. You deserve to be happy just like the rest of us. Go get your guy."

Gareth doesn't even bother saying goodbye.

He barely even remembers to grab his backpack before he's getting an extremely expensive Uber and riding to Sam's apartment.

****

Gareth thinks back to the day he showed up at Sam's door, eyes red and swollen from crying, scared that he wouldn't be able to get him back.

But Sam was an angel, and patient, just like he always was. He listened as Gareth blubbered through an explanation of a half-assed plan that wasn't approved yet by their team. He held Gareth's hand when he told him he'd give up everything to keep him.

And when Gareth said he had every intention of marrying him, he took it as a proposal, even without a ring, even with the state they were in.

Gareth smiles at his now-husband as they look around the room of everyone they love.

"I'm glad you chased me," Sam whispered to him.

"I'm glad you let me."

[jesssssssssica]

are we still friends? cl16

“i think that we should end this”

i knew the end was near a while back, i mean did he not think i’d seen the way he would look at my friends, the same way he used to look at me when we were just two teenagers in love who thought they could take on the whole world together. 

i miss those days a lot.  

“oh okay.”

i think he expected a much bigger reaction from me, i mean at least i think by the surprised expression he bears at my short answer. i don’t know why he thought i would give him much more than a one sentence answer though because i know if the roles were reversed he would be the exact same, maybe he would only just utter ‘okay’. 

does he expect me to empty my heart out and beg for a second chance? to say that he was the best thing i had because he isn’t, i have a life outside of him, or does he think that when i’m not attending races with him i’m crying in my room, missing his presence? i don’t know what goes on in his mind. 

i will miss him though.

i’ll miss waking up to the sunlight shining down on his face, highlighting his features as he lightly snores against the pillow.

i’ll miss christmas and spending it with his family, waking up on christmas morning and trotting downstairs, laughter echoing around the living room as we all exchange gifts.

i’ll miss his stupid accent struggling to pronounce words.

i really will miss him but if it’s really meant to be then maybe one day, whilst i’m sitting down in some random cafe i’ve stumbled across, i’ll look across the room and spot him and only then will i realise that we’re meant to be but until then we will have to part way-

“hey y/n, i hope we can still be friends.”

what.

the.

hell.

how can he ask that when he knows that in a weeks time he’ll find himself in the arms of someone i called a friend?

if i had the strength i would ask him ‘can we be friends?’ but i’m afraid that a sob might escape me instead.

is he an idiot? he had the perfect chance to just leave and get on with his normal life and yet he has my mind working a mile a minute. surely he realises that we would never work as just friends, i’d be petty that you moved on so quickly which would then cause you to make a snide comment about me which would then make me throw my drink on you and then yeah…. not the greatest friendship.

if we were still friends, i wouldn’t shake your hand or say hello or laugh at your jokes, i would probably just smile at you once or twice, though you’d be able to tell that the smile doesn’t quite reach my eyes, causing your mood to damper but i know even after that you won’t give up. 

so why, when you know the truth, do you still want to be friends? just say your goodbyes not ‘see you soon’ or ‘smell you later’ because that means you hope we have another chapter, so just say goodbye and walk away. 

i don’t exactly like you right now charles, but i’d rather we didn’t end this on bad terms. 

i look up, only just remembering the other presence in the room, somehow ignoring his beady eyes on my face. 

he stares at me, waiting anxiously for my answer, so i just shake my head. 

“no charles, we can’t.”

his shoulders sag and he walks away into the night. 

i never saw him after that. 

i wonder what could’ve been.

authors note: i’m gonna cry, i’m going back into my short pieces again :(((

[kazumist]

you have no idea if you're going to regret what you and suna are about to do.

grabbing a jacket due to the cold wind that passes by at night, you went downstairs to quickly head out. "do you have your wallet?" you asked him. "what? i thought you were going to pay."

"huh? i thought you were gonna pay," you said back. "this was your idea, and i'm going to pay? baby, aren't you being a bit unfair now?" suna replied. "fine, but next time you better pay." 

'there's going to be a next time?' suna mentally asked himself.

he soon agreed to your words as the two of you headed out to a nearby convenience store that luckily had a shopping cart that fit you perfectly if you were to get in. "what snacks do you want for tonight?" he asked, starting to go around, but suna didn't get a reply.

looking behind him, suna saw you attempting to ride the shopping cart. "you do know that we're only going to be here for fifteen minutes to buy snacks, right?" he sighed. "so what? it's not like every day i can find a shopping cart that'll actually be able to fit me inside," you replied, still attempting to hop on.

suna sighed again at your antics before lifting you up so you could get in the cart. with a small “yay” and “thank you, rin” said to him, suna started pushing the cart around to browse through the snacks that it had in stock. 

"can we get ice cream?"

"it's one forty-five in the morning, and you want ice cream?"

"is there a problem with that?"

"well, i suppose not, but i'm not gonna take care of you if you get too hyper after our marathon, okay?" he replied. "uh huh, but you're gonna take care of me anyway."

"and why is that?"

"because you love me, duh!" you said. well, you weren't wrong. even if suna were to say such things, both of you know that he'll still take care of you anyway. he continued to push the cart around until you reached the aisle that had ice cream displayed.

you pointed to the flavor that piqued your interest, and suna grabbed it for you. "are you gonna get anything else?" he asked. "nope! though we might as well get some root beer." 

"i thought you didn't drink root beer."

"it's for you, obviously. if i'm gonna get ice cream because i want it, we might as well get something that you'd want too, no? just so we can be equals," you said. he nodded in understanding before pushing the cart again to where the root beer was.

grabbing two cans of root beer, suna pushed the cart and soon arrived at the cash register. the one who's supposed to be working right now looked… very tired, so instead of disturbing them, you and suna decided to leave a small note of what you bought and include the exact payment for it.

"i wanna do this again," you said as you finally got your feet on the ground with suna’s help. "do what again?" he asked.

"all of this—making random trips to a convenience store at such late hours, riding another shopping cart for the fun of it—that," you replied, stretching your arms out as your gaze was now focused on the sky. 

"well, i don’t mind repeating this again either."

"i know. you'll accompany me if i ask anyways, but we should be heading back now before the sun rises, or else our planned marathon would be ruined," you said, running back. "hey wait! don't run!" he said as he hastily chased you.

cheekily smiling to yourself, you had no regrets about what you did at all.

[lost-in-fandoms]

Logan and Max have a talk. Sort of. (I have never written Logan before, so I don't know if this even makes sense. Almost nothing happens, but there could be a second part in the future, who knows (not me)).

Logan wishes he was better at telling Alex no. He doesn't want to be at this party, for a race he barely even took part of, his car giving up on lap 15. He doesn't want to be standing here, near the wall, as he watches the other drivers drink and dance, ignoring him completely. He doesn't want the drink Alex placed in his hand before disappearing, without even telling him what was in it. He wants to go to bed. He wants to call his mom.

One hour, that's how much time he has promised himself. He'll stay one hour, long enough to say he was there, not long enough to make him want to get completely smashed and sob into some girl's chest (that had been one time, but it had been a low point he does never want to repeat), and then he'll go back to the hotel. He doesn't remember the time difference well enough to know if he'll be able to talk to his mom before going to sleep, barely remembers in which country they're in.

He's contemplating his glass again, trying to decipher what kind of alcoholic concoction is in there and to ignore the thumping bass, when a pair of sneakers and blue jeans appear in his line of vision.

He looks up and finds himself face to face with three-soon-to-be-four times world Champion Max Verstappen. He doesn't think he's ever been in a one to one conversation with Max before, so he can't think about a single reason why he should be standing in front of him, looking straight at him. Unless he's here to kick him out? Would Max kick him out of the party for being too pathetic?

Now he's being self-pitying, he needs to stop. No drinking and sobbing incidents tonight.

"You okay, mate?" Max asks, voice barely loud enough over the music, eyes intense. The glass in Logan's hand feels slippery, he's afraid he'll drop it.

"Yeah, fine!" he replies, cringing at his own basic response, even if he doesn't know what else he could have said. It's not like Max is asking because he really cares, and it's not like he could give him the truthful answer either.

Instead of moving on and going back to the party like Logan is expecting after the somewhat failed social interaction, Max keeps looking at him, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowed, before he steps closer and plucks the glass from Logan's hand, placing it on a nearby table.

"Follow me," he orders. He doesn't wait before turning around and walking away. For some reason, Logan doesn't even question it, just unsticks himself from his wall and follows him to the bar, where Max orders a beer and another g&t, and then up a flight of stairs, onto a balcony.

"Are we allowed to be here?" Logan asks, looking at the very obvious DO NOT OPEN sign hanging on the balcony door Max is already pushing open.

Max just shrugs, going outside and sitting down on a lawn chair, placing the drinks on the low table in front of him. Of course, Logan reminds himself, he's Max Verstappen, who's going to tell him no? He probably could buy this whole place out himself if he wanted to.

Logan sits down next to him.

"Here," Max says, passing him the beer. Again, Logan doesn't question it before taking a sip. Much better than Alex's weird drink.

For a long moment, they just sit in silence. They can still hear the music from downstairs, but it's different out here, with the sounds of the city and the fresh air. Logan almost forgets about being confused and upset, about wanting to go home. Home home. Then Max speaks again.

"We can talk about why you are sad, or we can sit here until I finish my drink. Both are okay."

Logan doesn't understand. Why is Max, of all people, wanting to talk to him about his shitty season? And why would he want to just sit there with him? Does he look that pathetic?

He tries to feel upset, tries to look for the spark of indignation, but he comes up empty. He can just stare at Max's profile as the other takes a sip of his drink, eyes fixed on the skyline, throat working.

Max doesn't ask again. He must accept that Logan's answer is silence, doesn't even seem put off by it, but Logan's brain can't stop buzzing, questions bouncing around so fast he can barely keep up with them.

They stay quiet. Max finishes his drink. Logan keeps watching him as he stretches slightly, before he stands up and turns to face him.

"If you want to come talk to me, I know how it feels, to be hungry" he says slowly, measured, like he's been thinking about this for the whole time. "But if you want advice right now..."

It takes a second for Logan to realize Max is waiting for a sign, and he rushes to nod. Max's lip curls up slightly, his eyes crinkling, before he turns serious again.

"At some point, you will of course have to decide if you want to lay down and wait for the team to take pity, or if you want to bite and make them work with you."

Logan blinks. Max blinks back.

When it's clear that Logan isn't going to say anything, Max nods, turns around, seems to rethink and turns back, his eyes impossibly bright.

"I can show you how to take what you want, whatever you want." Suddenly, it feels like they're not just talking about racing anymore. Logan's neck feels hot. Max licks his lips, something dangerous in his expression that is usually reserved for the track, for when things aren't as he'd like. Logan has seen it before, but never turned towards him. He's stuck on his chair, feeling like prey despite Max telling him he could, and should, take.

He waits for the blow, he knows it's coming, but is still completely unprepared for the way Max smiles when he speaks.

"I will even call you a good boy, if you do it right."

The sound Logan lets out is undignified enough it will have to go in the lowest points list right next to the drinking&crying episode, but Max laughs, not unkindly, squeezing Logan's shoulder.

"You have my number, and you know where I'll be next week. Drink your beer."

Logan has the bottle pressed against his lips even before Max has made it across the balcony, going back to the party.

[joonslfttiddie]

Home

Chapter 48: Split...

💜Fic Pairing: OT7 x OFC

💜AU/Genre: Reverse Harem/Polyfidelity/Ghosts/AMBW/Supernatural

💜Warnings: Adult Language/Adult Content/Murder/Blood/Attack by stalker/Strangulation/Magik/Spells/Rituals/Evil Spirit

💜Rating: MA

💜Word Count: 3, 812

Chapter 48

⚠️⚠️⚠️WARNING⚠️⚠️⚠️ 

If you scare easily or are uneasy with the idea of supernatural events and blood, you may want to consider skipping this chapter.

Okay, love you, byyyyye!

When the group wakes up the next morning, it is apparent that no one slept well, if at all. Even after being completely drained, mentally and physically, sleep did not visit any of them for long. The last thing Tia remembers is laying down to rest her eye on top of the covers, not even realizing she’d not taken her bath to completely rid herself of the darkness that is the Burtons. Waking up with the sun beaming through the windows is bittersweet because she knows that the guys, even though they were upset, took time to still handle her with care by tucking her in. The bitter part is that she sits up in a completely empty bed.

Where are they? 

She can hear mumbles of good mornings, filled with resentment, being exchanged as the men walk past the door to make their way to the stairs to disperse to do their own things. Well, I guess I’ll just have to be satisfied with their mumbled greetings. No one is mentally capable to even begin to discuss the events of yesterday. Tensions are so high in the house and everyone in their own heads and not taking the time to even look up that they don’t notice how washed out Tia looks. Her caramel complexion has taken more of a grayish hue and is looking casket ready.

Tia’s POV

It’s a struggle to get downstairs, but I finally make it to the kitchen and I try to prepare a mug of the already prepared coffee. I need something to wake me up. I need energy. Yes, I’m tired being that I didn’t sleep well, anxious about things between the guys and thinking about the man that saved me, but I also feel off. Something is not right as my body feels weak and my mouth is warm and super watery. I feel like I’m going to vomit and think that I may feel better after having a drink.

Maybe you should have water instead of coffee today.

I ignore the sudden thought and when I pick the mug up to take a sip of the brew, it doesn’t make it to my lips when my hands go limp, and the mug crashes against the kitchen floor. Everyone is outside or in the pool house, leaving only myself and whomever the fuck seems to be within to handle this.

Fuck. Don’t pass out. I can’t pass out.

Deciding against trying to pick up the fragments of the cup, I grab the mop I used the previous night to at least try to sop up the liquid from the floor. When my hand touches the mop handle, my mouth begins to speak that same spell from before, but it’s not my doing. I’m just trying my best to not pass out and the words are flowing from me effortlessly. Even my thoughts, hell, even my voice doesn’t sound the same as the words being spoken. I feel like someone or something is stowed away, catching a ride within my body.

My mind is racing, nearly in a panic, trying not to lose consciousness while my mouth is still speaking incantations and banishments. I wasn’t sure before, but now I know for sure that this is someone else, an unknown passenger. Counterclockwise strokes of my mop meticulously chasing behind the streaks of coffee on the floor, just like I had done to the footprints. 

Did I miss some of the prints? Did I not do it correctly? What is happening?

“Spirit guides, ancestors far and near,

Remove all spirits who don’t belong here.

Ancestors and descendants of the Burton family,

All further attempts to harm will evade me.

No evil to them shall I render,

But their tricks of wickedness, return to sender.

All versions of evil and harm, I banish thee,

As I will it, so mote it be!”

My companion repeats their spell with more fierceness and vigor each time. I find that I’m able to focus more on dispelling the energy and hold on to my awareness if I concentrate on her voice. The hoarseness of my own voice is no longer heard, but the sweet, southern twang of hers sings through the space. The coolness of the breeze from the still open kitchen window plays through the room, unaware of the direness of my current situation, and swirls through my hair and prances along the hem of my shirt. It feels nice, running up the trail of sweat along my back. I welcome it, a delightful distraction that seems to provide a lightness, my heavy limbs now more relaxed. I feel weightless.

Once all of the spill and the shards of the cup are moped to the side, I notice that I’m obviously still not feeling well as I’m dizzy and things look off. 

Is this what an out-of-body experience looks like? 

I find that I have cleaned myself all the way to the edge of the kitchen and the living room. I’m at ease and this feels like the end of whatever trance I was under, but my mouth is still speaking, better yet, yelling the words to the spell. The breeze is noticeably stronger, causing my clothes to flap against my skin and my hair to thrash violently across my face. The basement door opens and the wind causes it to slam hard against the wall, revealing Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook, both with stunned expressions. 

The smile that adorns my lips is one of pure love and happiness as I’m in need of their comfort. Their expressions, however, do not mirror mine, each wearing looks of concern, perturbation, and astonishment. Are they still that pissed with me?! What’s with those faces? As they are frantically making their way to me, it’s as if they start to move in slow motion like they are running underwater as their clothes and hair flutter and wave slowly. Admittedly, I am confused but also amused, having never seen anything like this before. I chuckle lightly to myself until my eyes begin playing more tricks on me. I’m starting to see double, each man seemingly glitching, splitting from their heads down to their torsos to show a different version of themselves. Just as quickly as I notice it, the alternate snaps back to be hidden within.

What the fuck was that?!

I blink my eyes, squeezing them tightly before opening them again, trying to adjust my vision but it’s no use. It keeps happening! Yoongi is on the left side when I see his other version split away again. His companion is definitely Yoongi, wearing the same concerned expression but he’s not him. He looks older, not in age, but in time, if that even makes sense. Old fashioned. Jungkook is in the middle with Hoseok dodging one of the dining chairs to fall in line behind him, both men malfunctioning to reveal their other selves.

Only when the mop handle slips out of my hand and crashes onto the floor do I realize that I’m levitating, hovering inches away from the ceiling, which would explain my current viewpoint. Even with my fear of heights, dangling at nearly 10 feet in the air has no effect on me. It’s not until I see Jason; better yet, I feel him and see the dark figure reaching up to me from under my feet. His face appears in my mind, the sinister expression is obvious even with a quarter of his head blown away, and the remaining eye glows red like the footprints I cleaned last night. Blood drips heavily down his face to run down the white teeth of his diabolical smile. I feel that he’s not alone and his head shudders violently, showing a completely different man. There are similarities, like missing their left eyes, but that’s not him; not like it is when I look at my loves. I try to scream but nothing comes out, the chant still flying from my lungs.

Jimin’s POV

I feel so much better after talking to Taehyung yesterday, a comfort that I’ve not felt from anyone other than Tia covers me like a cozy blanket. Thinking of Tia, Taehyung, and the stranger who saved Tia, I hang my towel on a nearby hook and hop in the shower. My mind wanders from what our family meeting may look like, to the possibilities of our future with the nameless hero, to regretting not holding Tia this morning. I wanted to pull her in, to hold her close but my pride wouldn’t allow me to. I then think back to the conversation I just had with Tae, leaning against his sturdy frame and the smell of him. My fingers trail down my skin, chasing the streams of water to find my penis, fully erect and bouncing, tapping lightly on my stomach.

What the fuck am I doing? I shouldn’t be feeling this way…not now.

I begin to caress myself, daydreaming about burrowing deep into Tia’s sweetness while Taehyung’s chocolatey voice, rich, smooth, and creamy melts down my spine. I imagine myself following his command as he uses me as a puppet to make love to Tia. 

“Just like that, Jiminie. Long…slow…and deep,” he instructs, the warmth of his breath on the shell of my ear. “Look at her pretty face, completely fucked out of her mind because of you.”

I can’t suppress the whimpers that escape me when his arms creep around my torso, pulling me tight against his chest. My body is already beginning to jerk as my muscles spasm from the immense amount of pleasure.

“Good job, Mini. Look down. Look at how your fat dick stretches her pretty pussy. All that sweet cream she’s making, all the beautiful sounds are all for you,” he praises me in between the warm, open-mouth kisses he’s placing on my nape. The light suction he creates when he detaches his mouth, along with the way he just barely grazes my skin with his tongue, is driving me insane. With my brows furrowed, I can’t help but trap my bottom lip between my teeth as I continue to pump into my hand, imagining it’s Tia.

“Oh my God,” I hiss through clenched teeth, biting harder on my lip.

“Does it feel good, Mini? You look so fucking amazing,” Taehyung says, trailing his hand up to fondle my nipples, his touch feather-light.

“Hmmm,” I moan as I’m nearing my climax.

“Are you ready to show me how hard you can cum for me,” he says, his voice seeming to fall a few octaves. The vibration from his chest against my back and the warm kisses he trails over to my shoulder pushes me over the edge, and I begin to pump my hand up and down my shaft even faster with the imagery of Tia’s breasts bouncing each time my fist makes contact with my pelvis.

“Fuck!”

I cum long and hard, squirting my seed along to float on the steam of water and down the drain. I give my member a few more slow, lazy strokes while still coming down from my high, panting heavily while still holding my dick in my hand. As my mind is returning to reality, I notice the arms that are still encasing my body. There is also a warmth against my ass, hard and fitting snugly between my cheeks.

“Do you feel better after getting that out?”

Yoongi’s POV

The exhaustion is starting to catch up to me as I’m trying my best to pump my legs, trying to run as fast as I can. It’s like trying to move through cold grits, and I’m going nowhere fast, that’s for sure. I’ve never experienced anything like this in my entire life, looking up at Tia and then at the dark figure under her feet. Her angelic appearance in contrast to the sinister figure, is like heaven and hell right before my eyes. I can’t even take time to be afraid of whatever the fuck that is; more concerned with trying to help my baby. I know she mentioned that she was coming into her powers, but I never would have guessed levitation to be one of them.

My heart is pounding so hard I can hear my blood whooshing in my ears. I must really be tired because it seems like I’m missing fragments of time, my vision going in and out. I’m thinking it may be some type of residual power in the room coming from Tia or that thing. When I glance over to Jungkook and Hoseok, their appearance is telling and lets me know that they are struggling just as much as I am, and they are going so slow. I don’t know what’s wrong with my eyes because I notice the two men split partially into four! What in the entire fuck is going on?!

We finally start to circle the island and I’m able to get a good look at the dark mass. It is dividing just like Hoseok and Jungkook! I can feel its desperation like the words Tia is screaming is causing him panic.

Why does she sound like that?

Another POV

“Good morning. Namjoon, right?”

“Hey… yea. What’s up, man?” He allows his tool to fall to the ground, brushes his hands clean on his pants, and then shakes my free hand; the other hand holds a bag full of food for everyone as they were unable to have my food yesterday which was ruined. “Things got crazy yesterday so I wasn’t able to thank you for what you did for Tia. For us.”

“No problem…no problem at all. I just did what anyone else would have. I don’t usually carry my weapon on me, but something told me to bring it yesterday. I’m glad I did.”

“Damn. Well, I’m so glad you did, too! Lord knows what would have happened had you not been here and prepared. I owe you my life, bro,” he says with his voice cracking. His eyes look like he has been crying and is about to start again.

I’m not sure why but I take him into my arms, wanting nothing more than to take the hurt away. I’m standing here, embracing a grown-ass man, and his large frame leans against me with his head on my shoulder. I just want to protect him from the world. I just want to love him. 

“Don’t cry, it’s okay now. It’s all over,” I try to reassure him as he sobs into my jacket. “It’s all over.”

I’m confused, not knowing what this feeling is or what it means, but I allow it and continue to hold him until he composes himself, wiping his face on the inside of the neck of his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a chuckle. His face is now a pretty shade of pink.

“No worries at all. Yesterday was traumatic for all of us. There are some things people should never have to witness. How is she? How is Tia?” I say as the sweetness of her name falls comfortably from my lips. It feels like I must have spoken her name for a lifetime before.

He takes a few deep breaths and looks up to the heavens in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. “Ahem,” he says, then looks at me again with tears resting along his lash line. “See for yourself. Go ahead inside. I’m sure she will be so excited to meet the man who saved her life.”

“How long have you been out here? You’re not coming in?” I ask these questions as I’m looking around the yard. The lawn looks perfect so I’m unsure as to what he needs to do now. Shaking his head, he informs me that he's just finishing up some things he didn’t finish last night and would be right behind me.

He gives me the door code and I make my way down the driveway to the door. So, it’s obviously not just me that feels this pull, this connection, as if I belong here. I belong with them. I tried before, but I can’t deny the pull that I feel towards this house and the people in it. I felt it yesterday but quickly disregarded it when I saw the man attacking her, not having time to explore these feelings. When I saw him, straddling her small body, it’s like my world went red and I sprang into action with only one thought in mind. Save her.

When I finally make it to the door, those feelings are still there but something else is sprinkled in. That red-hot anger floods my body once again, a strong tug to protect that woman one way or another. The hairs on the back of my neck stand and I’m thrown into intense feelings of fight or flight. Of course, I’m not going anywhere and punch the numbers into the keypad as fast as I can while yelling out to Namjoon. 

“NAMJOON! SOMETHING’S WRONG!” The man across the yard drops what he’s doing again and bolts toward me. I’m trying not to panic while I place the food on the porch and try to concentrate, still fumbling while putting in the code Namjoon provided. As soon as the door opens, a specific aroma floods my senses. It smells like fall, sugary, and comfortable; definitely a scent I’ve smelled before. It’s so strong, I can taste it. I dash inside with Namjoon hot on my heels.

“TIA! TIA!!!” Namjoon yells for her at the top of his lungs with no answer. I can hear something that mimics the sound of a tornado and a woman shouting. We rush into the kitchen where the noise is coming from, and gusts of wind blow fiercely, jolting us back a bit. Even with my arms up in an attempt to shield my face from the debris riding the rush of wind, I’m still able to notice three of the men I recognize from before but their movements are strange and unnaturally slow. They are running, yelling, and grabbing out for Tia, but at a fraction of the speed they should be moving. While that is strange, nothing could prepare me for what I’d see next.

There she is…but she’s floating?! And with a fucking demon nipping at her bare feet?! I’m hesitant to jump in, unlike before. Yea, I have my piece on me but I don’t know if bullets affect supernatural entities the same way as humans. When I glance over to Namjoon, he is moving like the others, struggling and slow like moving through quicksand. There is shuffling coming from behind me and the other two men come running around the staircase at a frantic pace, only to slow down drastically when they reach the threshold of the kitchen.

It must be that thing trying to keep them at bay and away from Tia.

I have no idea what to do! WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?! I look up at Tia and her eyes meet mine. Her expression, while screaming the same words repeatedly and thunderously, softens. The winds whirl around even more ferociously, causing objects to slide from the countertops and crash to the floor. Smaller bits are carried on within the storm, flying up to nick and cut at her bare skin and face. However, she looks calm, too calm considering what all is happening right now, her eyes and the lower half of her face completely out of sync.

Salt.

It’s like she’s right next to me, whispering in my ear, though I’ve not heard her voice; only the sound of her screams, whimpers, and cries of yesterday. I can even feel the warmth of her breath against my skin which causes me to snap my head back, knowing that she’s not there but I had to be sure. My hands are visibly trembling but I storm in, nevertheless, and feel directed to a specific drawer. I pull it open and find a plethora of spices, but instinctively grab the coarse kosher salt.

Good. Throw it while repeating after me.

I trust her with every fiber of my being, though I don’t even know this woman. Still, I take a handful of the salt and pelt it toward the shadowy figure. The fear is obviously getting the best of me because after releasing the granules from my hand, my arm splits down to my elbow into two before snapping back. I don’t feel it, like, it doesn’t hurt, but I am freaked the fuck out. Even still, I don’t stop, continuing to hurl the grains. 

The words Tia is shouting begin to spill from my lips, even after never hearing them before now. We repeat the words over and over, yelling in unison:

“Spirit guides, ancestors far and near,

Remove all spirits who don’t belong here.

Ancestors and descendants of the Burton family,

All further attempts to harm will evade me.

No evil to them shall I render,

But their tricks of wickedness, return to sender.

All versions of evil and harm, I banish thee,

As I will it, so mote it be!”

With each strike, the entity folds into itself and blood gushes from it to spatter on the freshly mopped floor. The salt causes the blood to sizzle and spark. With a deep, demonic voice that chills me to the bone, it screeches, “MINE! MINE! MIIIIIIIIIINE!” 

“SPIRIT GUIDES, ANCESTORS FAR AND NEAR,

REMOVE ALL SPIRITS WHO DON’T BELONG HERE.

ANCESTORS AND DESCENDANTS OF THE BURTON FAMILY,

ALL FURTHER ATTEMPTS TO HARM WILL EVADE ME.

NO EVIL TO THEM SHALL I RENDER,

BUT THEIR TRICKS OF WICKEDNESS, RETURN TO SENDER.

ALL VERSIONS OF EVIL AND HARM, I BANISH THEE,

AS I WILL IT, SO MOTE IT BE!”

Just as the last words are spoken, the shadow reaches up to grab at Tia’s ankles, pulling her down with it. 

FUCK NO!

I throw the entire box of salt at it. run over with the last fist full, and attempt to punch this motherfucker, shoving my fist down its throat. With each hit, blood sprays from the figure, spraying up on my clothes and face. I keep punching and punching and punching and punching and punching…

“Jin.”

I notice that the room is still and silent before I look down to see the puddle of blood that I’m kneeling in, and the splatter on my hands and shirt begins to burn away. Quickly, I stand to pat at my shirt and pants to exhaust the flame, but it doesn’t burn and vanishes like it was never there. When I look up, Tia is looking down at me smiling, then, her expression loses life, her eyes roll to the back of her head, and her body begins to plummet from the air. The sound of the other men scrambling, obviously now free from their trap, rush closer behind me. I catch her with an ‘umph’ and fall back to the ground with her limp body cradled in my arms, holding her close to my chest.

A/N: 

Special thanks to @yoongiobsessed for beta reading this chapter for me! 💜

[thegettingbyp2]

Hi!!! May I request a short fem! Reader x Johnny Knoxville?

Like they had a fight over something dumb and they’re on the outs. And after a few hours he sees her trying to reach something and because he’s taller he gets it and then teases her and it’s all fluffy and they make up?

The Top Shelf

You were curled up in the window seat of the study in yours and Johnny’s house, your head buried in your book, doing everything you could to ignore the argument that you and Johnny had just had. It wasn’t often that the two of you got into an argument but that also meant that every time you did argue, it was quick to blow up and wildly out of proportion.

Take the argument you two had just had, for example. You had made a light comment about Johnny maybe cutting back on a few stunts so he wouldn’t get as hurt all the time, especially as he was getting older. He instantly took this to mean that you were saying that he should quit which inevitably led to a heated argument between the two of you.

Not long after you had finally been able to immerse yourself into your book, you heard footsteps climb the stairs before stopping in the doorway to the study. Knowing it could only be one person, you didn’t bother to look up from your book.

‘Baby?’ Johnny’s voice spoke softly, pausing while he waited for an answer that never came. Deciding that he would be better off letting you cool down for a moment, the footsteps began to grow quieter as he went back downstairs and you heard the faint muffle of the TV as he turned it on. You let out a breath before turning your attention back to your book, having to reread the past two pages which you had paid absolutely no attention to while you felt Johnny’s eyes on you.

Realising that you weren’t going to be able to concentrate on your book, you sighed before putting it down on the seat next to you and moving out of the room before making your own way downstairs. As you turned the kitchen light on, you heard Johnny pause the TV as he tried to listen out for what you were doing. You put the kettle on and opened the cupboard to grab yours and Johnny’s mugs; even though you were mad at him, you’d still make him a drink, it was almost second nature to you. You placed Johnny’s chipped mug on the kitchen counter and reached back up to grab your own. You frowned when your hand felt the space your mug usually sat only to find that it was empty. Looking into the cupboard you saw that your mug had been moved to the top shelf; the only shelf in the cupboard you couldn’t reach.

Smiling softy to yourself at Johnny’s attempt to get you to talk to him again, you headed into the living room and leant against the door frame as Johnny’s head turned to look at you.

‘Can you get my cup out of the cupboard, please?’ you asked, not quite meeting his eyes because you knew that Johnny’s face would make you break out into a grin and you were stillmad at him.

‘Isn’t it in its normal place, doll?’ he asked, knowing full well that it wasn’t because he was the one who had moved it.

‘No, and you know it so please can you help me?’

Johnny smiled at you and the two of you headed into the kitchen. Standing directly behind you, Johnny wrapped one arm around your front, holding you against him as his other arm reached up to grab your mug, setting it down gently next to his on the counter. Instead of letting you go, he wrapped his other arm around you as well and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

‘I’m sorry, I blew up, baby,’ he murmured into your hair. ‘I just don’t like the idea that some point, probably soon, I’m not going to be able to be doing this anymore so I want to do as much as I can in the time I have.’

You couldn’t help but lean back into him, resting your head against his chest as one of your hands came up to rest gently on his cheek, smiling when you felt him nuzzle into your touch. ‘I know, I’m sorry too. I just worry that it’s going to go to far and one day you won’t come back home to me.’

‘I’ll always come home to you. I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ you sighed happily, patting his arms lightly to get him to let you go. ‘Now, can you grab the milk so I can actually make these drinks?’

Johnny laughed into your hair, pressing one more kiss to your head before stepping away from you. ‘Of course I can baby.’

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Hair Trigger

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Superfam, YJ98

Summary: A junior at Gotham University, Jason finds it difficult to conceal his worsening mental health from his family and his friend, Jon Lane Kent. Family secrets are revealed and boundaries are pushed as Jason and Laney struggle to navigate through school, their romantic feelings, and their trauma. Could the reintroduction of Laney Kent be more trouble than it's worth, or is it just what Jason needed to confront the demons of his past?

I will also do trigger warnings for chapters and if there is smut I have the chapter(s) tagged so you don't have to worry about nsfw in the fic if you're just here for the story itself.

Chapters: 5/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Jonathan Lane Kent, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Natalia Knight, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Cassie Sandsmark, Chris Kent, Bart Allen, Original Character(s)

Relationships: JayLaney, Clois, TimKon

Additional Tags: University AU, No Powers AU, Sharing A Bed, Romance, Angst

Chapter Five: Image

Clark hesitated a while before knocking on the door. Laney answered the door and turned to go back to cooking dinner without so much as a greeting. "Where's your roommate?" Clark asked as he shut and locked the door behind him.

"She's out of town for the weekend. Where's your stuff?" Laney asked as he washed his hands and checked on the food in the oven.

"It's in the car. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with me staying this weekend?" Clark asked. Laney nodded. "I'm gonna go get my things then, and I'll be right back..."

"Okay... Dad, do you want onion on your burger or no?" Laney asked.

"Onion is fine, thank you," Clark replied as he walked out the door and went back downstairs. He carried his clothes for the weekend in a duffle bag and his air mattress under his arm.

This time, Clark took the elevator instead of the stairs. He opened the door with one hand, and Laney came back over to take the air mattress and set it aside. "How do you like your classes? I remember you said you changed your major," Clark asked.

"I like it... I'm a music therapy major now, by the way," Laney answered as he took the food out of the oven and made Clark's plate. "What're you working on? Anything I should know about?" Laney asked. Clark placed his phone on the counter.

"I interviewed an influencer in Bludhaven," Clark replied, "And we talked about the future of marketing, which used to be your major."

"Yeah? Send me the link when you post it... It sounds interesting," Laney whispered as he poured Clark a glass of milk and poured himself a drink. "Here you go, Dad."

"Thank you," Clark smiled as he bit into his burger. Laney started to eat and took a sip of gin. "You drink?"

"Mhm, not on school nights, though..." Laney replied after taking another sip. "Also, I figured that we would eat before talking about anything serious."

Clark took a sip of his milk. "Oh, no, I wasn't judging you. I was just making an observation," Clark replied, "What's your roommate like?"

"She's a sweet kid. She's a freshman, never lived away from home before, theatre major, and she's a genuinely kind person to be around. It's like having a cool little sister around," Laney answered as he went back to eating, "And don't worry, I'm being nice to her. How're the boys?"

"They're doing good... Chris tries not to show it, but he misses you a lot," Clark confessed, "He won't let anyone move anything on your side of the room."

"I'll talk to him soon," Laney whispered, "I miss him too." They continued to eat in silence for a while, and Laney finished his drink.

"Laney, I can't do this... I just wanna know what happened? I wanna fix things—."

Laney got up and poured himself another glass. "Can I ask you a question first? When you sent me away, why couldn't you just say you loved me back?" Laney asked. He leaned in, tapping his nails on the counter. He took a swig of his second drink.

"Because if I said it, I never would've been able to send you away. All I wanted to do was take it back," Clark whispered, "Lane... What happened?"

"I had no one to hold onto, Dad," Laney started to cry, "And the boys there... They weren't kind to my weakness. I wasn't even there a whole week before they started in on me... And yeah, I probably had it coming to me after all the mean things I'd done in my life, but this was so different." Clark reached for Laney's hand, and Laney recoiled violently. Laney poured a little more gin into his glass. "And my counselor... He was the only one at that school who I could talk to. So, I did, almost every day of those two years... And that's why you couldn't find me on the last day of school..."

"I don't understand," Clark murmured. Laney shook his head.

"No, no... You don't get why that day was so bad for me. I let him take me off-campus. He said he wanted to take me to live with him, and I wanted to go.

We got about an hour away from the school, and we passed by this field, and as much as I wanted to leave with him, I started crying... I told him that I was sorry. He took me back to a restaurant right outside the school and told me to go inside and call the school, and when I got out of the car, he drove off, and I never saw him again," Laney explained as he finished his drink and Clark grabbed the bottle before Laney could pour himself another glass.

"Laney, look at me," Clark pleaded with him, "Laney—."

"It's okay if you hate me for trying to replace you. I want you to be mad at me for it—."

"Why would—?"

"I didn't know what else to do! I lost my best friend, I lost you, and all I wanted was someone to say it back," Laney's voice broke, "I just wanted somebody to care."

He jumped as soon as he felt himself being grabbed and embraced, and Laney couldn't move until he heard his father's voice whispering, "I care... I love you, Laney. I love you, and I'm sorry." Laney wrapped his arms around his father, and as soon as Laney regained his composure, he let go.

"I thought I wanted to be mad..." Laney stepped away from the counter and sat on the couch. He let out a few shaky breaths.

"Can I put the gin away now?" Clark asked innocently, and Laney let out a shaky laugh and nodded.

"You can put it back... So, you're not mad at me? You're not gonna say what I did was crazy and irresponsible and that I could've gotten killed?" Laney asked. Clark pushed up his glasses.

"Laney, I'm just happy that we got you back... Do you remember what you were like when we went to that restaurant to come and pick you up?" Clark asked. Laney shook his head. "You looked like you hadn't slept in days. You were shaky, out of it... You kept telling us you'd give anything just to go home and go to bed. You wouldn't say anything else. You slept on the couch in the living room for weeks."

"It took everything in me not to punch Conner in the face for saying I was scared to sleep in my own bed," Laney chuckled.

"I'm glad that you didn't do that," Clark smiled, and he got up to wash his hands, "You're so much like your mother."

"Stubborn?" Laney asked.

"Driven," Clark replied. Laney went to wash his hands in the bathroom, and he dried his hands on the towel.

Laney turned on the tv, and Clark washed the dishes. "Dad, you don't have to—."

"But I'd like to just this once," Clark interrupted. Laney nodded. Clark's phone rang. "That's your mom."

Laney put the phone on speaker. "Hi, Mom..." Laney answered.

"I just wanted to call to see if your father got in alright... And the boys wanted to say goodnight," Lois whispered.

"Hi, Sammy! Hi, Chris!" Laney exclaimed. The boys both spoke at once in a jumble of words that Laney couldn't quite make out.

"You're not mad?" Sammy asked.

"No, I'm not mad. How was your field trip?" Laney asked.

"It was good. We went to the exploratorium," Sammy answered, and he went on to tell Laney about what he did there.

Then Chris mentioned something about missing Laney, and Laney smiled to himself. "I miss you too," Laney whispered.

"We're making pizza for dinner. Did you eat already?" Lois asked.

"Mhm, Laney made burgers," Clark answered, "Oh, and boys make sure to start your homework and chores before Sunday." Chris and Sammy groaned. Clark dried the dishes and put them away in the cupboards.

"Loving the enthusiasm," Lois joked, and she sent the boys back to the kitchen before she asked if things were going alright.

"We're okay," Laney whispered. Lois made a humming noise.

"Good. I love both of you," Lois whispered.

"Love you too, Mom," Laney replied.

"I love you, Lois," Clark replied, and they hung up. Gus came out of Laney's bedroom and stood by Laney's feet.

"Oh, hello, handsome. Dad, this is Gus Gus. Gus Gus, this is Dad," Laney introduced them. Clark followed Laney and Gus to the couch. Laney rested his legs on Clark's lap as he watched tv.

"You still watch The Wonder Years?" Clark asked, and Laney nodded.

"It's kind of what I imagine you were like as a kid," Laney replied.

"Huh," Clark nodded, "That's fair."

They didn't say much as they continued watching tv, and Clark looked over to say something at Laney, and Laney lay fast asleep with his mouth open. "Laney? Lane, wake up." Laney started to snore. He moved Laney's legs and picked up Gus, and moved him to the side. "Laney?" Clark asked a little bit louder, and still, Laney didn't stir. So, Clark picked him up and carried him to bed while his mattress blew up in the living room. He pulled the blankets over Laney and was startled by Laney grabbing his face, still half asleep and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"You're going already?" Laney whimpered. Clark chuckled, realizing that Laney was a little bit drunk, and he let out a breath. "Don't go. Not yet," Laney wiped a few tears away with his sleeve. "I don't wanna stay here by myself," Laney mumbled as he cried.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm just getting ready to go to bed. I'll be here when you get up," Clark reassured him, "I promised I'd be here the whole weekend, remember?"

Laney turned over on his side, and with his eyes still closed, Laney uttered, "I remember... But I wish you could stay longer," in a half-broken whisper. Clark smiled and pushed Laney's hair back.

"Goodnight, Laney," Clark whispered, and he closed Laney's door on his way out. He unpacked his duffle bag and grabbed took some of his things to the bathroom.

After he took his shower, he looked around for where Laney kept his extra blankets. He found a comforter in a bin in the coat closet and placed it on the mattress. He left the tv on for a little while before taking his glasses off and going to bed.

Clark woke up a few hours around two in the morning to a loud thud. "Fuck," Laney winced, and he opened the door and stumbled to the bathroom in the dark. He came out of the bathroom a minute later, and he stopped in his tracks. "Hiya, Dad," he greeted him casually before going back to bed. Clark turned over on his back and chuckled to himself.

The rest of the night was calm, even for Laney, who couldn't recall the last time he slept so peacefully. He didn't awaken again until eight that morning to the smell of breakfast. He stepped out of his room, and Clark greeted him. "Good morning, how're you feeling?" Clark asked.

"I don't remember going to bed," Laney yawned.

"I carried you to bed," Clark answered as he flipped their pancakes.

"Well, that's embarrassing..." Laney went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and he came back just as Clark finished making his plate.

"Did you mean what you said about wishing I could stay longer?" Clark asked.

Laney dug into his breakfast and shrugged, "I kind of remember that... Hey, Dad? I really am glad that you came this weekend. I know I wanted to leave things alone, but it means a lot to me that you cared enough to come and spend the weekend with me." Clark took a sip of orange juice.

"It's because I love you. I really do, Laney," Clark answered.

"I love you too, Dad," Laney whispered as he picked over his apples.

Clark reached across the counter and nudged his hand. "Eat your apples," Clark instructed gently. Laney laughed.

"Can I have another sausage?" Laney asked.

"Finish some of your apples, and we'll talk," Clark replied.

Laney ate his pancakes with the apples. "Are you gonna tell Mom about the stuff I said?" he asked, his mouth half full.

"Do you want me to?" Clark asked. "She doesn't tell me about what you two talk about in therapy." Laney furrowed his brows. "You didn't know that?"

"I dunno. I figured Mom told you everything. I don't expect either of you to keep secrets from each other on my behalf... I don't talk about you there. I mostly just talk about my nightmares and the fact that I try to bury my feelings out of fear," Laney admitted, "And you can tell Mom what I said. I'll probably bring it up in therapy anyway."

Clark pushed his glasses up and finished his breakfast. "You have nightmares still?" Clark asked.

"Mhm, it's nothing that I can really put into words. I just know that some of them are caused by sleep apnea... And before you say it, Mom is already trying to force me to get a CPAP machine. It's not that bad—."

"Laney, I just heard you say you don't really need to breathe while you sleep—."

"Oh, Dad, come on. You know that's not what I said," Laney replied as he went back to eating. Clark took a deep breath.

"Sorry, but I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were doing something about that," Clark replied. Laney put his fork down and started eating his apples with his fingers. "Laney, are you telling me that you go to therapy for sleep apnea?"

"Of course not! I go to therapy because I compartmentalize," Laney snapped, "I started feeling like I had to be completely different people at school, at home, at work, just to survive. I can't date, I can't ask for help outside of therapy... I feel like I'm just waiting until the next party so that I can self-destruct... And I called Mom, telling her that I wanted to die on New Year's Eve last year, and she picked me up from the pier." Laney swallowed hard. Clark put his fork down.

"Jonathan... I didn't know—."

"Yeah, well, I'm working through it... It's not as bad as it was before, but I still struggle," Laney whispered, "I thought you knew that much, at least."

"I didn't know any of it. Laney, if you think that I don't think your feelings are important—."

"That's not the problem. It's the fact that I remember how it felt to be able to tell you this stuff, and now I feel like I want to tell you when I don't feel good," Laney coughed into his elbow, "But I feel like I don't deserve it anymore."

"Don't deserve what?" Clark asked.

"I don't deserve to talk to you about things," Laney replied, "And I know Mom tries, but she and I are so much alike that I feel like talking to her is the same as talking to myself."

"Laney, I love talking to you kids. I like knowing what's going on. Even in Conner's life, and let me tell you, sometimes I wish there were things that he would keep to himself," Clark joked, and Laney let out a little laugh. "And I'd pick arguing with you over whatever we've been doing for the past couple of years. I missed being able to go beyond just small talk with you.

I like knowing that you hate the space that's grown between us just as much as I do... And if you want me to do all the work and ask all the questions, I'll do that. Okay?" Laney forced his tears back and nodded, and Clark got up and embraced him just as he did the night before. Laney shut his eyes and let out a sigh as he let his father hold him.

[honeyed-latte]

You wanted Vigcup? Here's something I thought of. Instead of Viggo staying with the skrill in Triple Cross. Hiccup drags him out of the cave tunnel system thing, with the Skrill following them. Hiccup gets Viggo onto Toothless and they fly back to the Edge, Ruff and Tuff obviously talking about their dragons record and more they should try and do. Viggo is silent, still trying to comprehend what happened, even with four arrows in his back. They make it back to the Edge, Viggo struggling to stay awake, they land and Hiccup gets Fishlegs to bring first aid things. The other riders help Hiccup get Viggo onto a makeshift bed in the club house, because it was closer than Hiccups hut. Fishlegs and Hiccup work to get the arrows out and clean the wounds, cauterising if needed, Viggo is obviously in a lot of pain. Once they are done Fishlegs makes something to help with the pain. Hiccup staying by Viggo, having sent the other riders to bed because it was late. Fishlegs returns and has Viggo drink the tea to help with the pain. Hiccup and Viggo are left in the Clubhouse alone, except for the Skrill and Toothless. The two dragons seeming to be getting along. Hiccup sits on the floor next to Viggo, distracted by thoughts he had had many times before, only heightened with the knowledge of what Viggos back looks and feels like. Viggo notices how silent Hiccup is and sees a slight red to Hiccups freckled cheeks. He questions what Hiccup is thinking about, snapping him out if his thoughts. The younger of the two stumbling over words trying to come up with some kind of excuse, not having been expecting to get caught in this situation, especially by the one he was thinking of. Toothless gives Hiccup a knowing look, as he was the only one who knew about these thoughts Hiccup had, he makes a kind of mocking noise and Hiccup doesn't glare, but tries to. Over a few weeks, Viggo is able to move around on his own, grateful the arrows hadn't hit anything important. Hiccup gets caught up in his thoughts a lot more then before, Viggo always noticing it. Hiccup had moved Viggo to his hut and let him use his bed, while he made a pile of furs downstairs where he slept. Eventually, Viggo corners Hiccup and gets him to talk about the thoughts he had been having. Hiccup tries not to say anything but ends up bursting and saying how he had thoughts of kissing Viggo, cuddling with him, spending time together as a couple, even thinking about being fucked by Viggo, leaving scratch marks on Viggos back, and Viggo leaving hickies and bite marks all over Hiccups body, Hiccups face is flushed a dark shade of red as he refuses to look at Viggo after his confession. Viggo is taken back by this and stands there for a little letting everything sink in. He slowly smirks and gently grabs Hiccups chin, making him look up at him. Viggo then leans in and kisses Hiccup, Hiccup is shocked at first, but slowly melts into the kiss, his hands going to Viggos chest. They pull away to breath and just look at each other. Viggos cheeks have dusted a light red. They end up talking about how to go forward in their relationship. They start dating, the Skrill and Toothless like teasing them when they can. The rest of the riders, except Snotlout, aren't shocked at all that they started dating. Having seen the way they looked at each other. Snotlout, however, is very shocked. And not too keen on the idea of someone dating his younger cousin. (I like to think of them both as cousins. And Snotlout being the older one.) He begrudging accepts it though. Telling Stoick was another story though. The man wasn't happy at all, but after seeing how happy Hiccup is with Viggo, he, also, begrudgingly accepts the relationship.

Oh this was a delight to read, thank you oh my gods.

I love them being domestic and gentle together as much as I love them being awful together. Stoick would be soooo choked they were together too aaaaahhh

[butmakeitgayblog]

😔 I have an AWTR question. What do Clarke and Lexa do when Lexa is having a bad day? The days when she’s feeling weak and tired and achy, not really able to do much, how do they spend those days and how does Clarke tend to comfort her?

(Bonus: how does Clarke feel when Lexa is having a worse than normal day? What’s going through her mind?)

In the beginning, it's subtle things that clue Clarke in that Lexa's having a bad day. Because God knows Lexa never makes it particularly easy. Never wants to inconvenience anyone ornmake anyone worry.

"What's the point? We already know why—"

"That is the point, Lexa," is a very common exchange in the early days when Clarke notices Lexa's moving just a little slower than normal. Rubbing her temples and eyes more. Grabbing the shop's counter to steady herself on off balance feet more. Lexa hates it and gets snippy because she tries so hard to be fine, but Clarke can see it anyway.

Those are the days when Clarke tries to be more attentive, always keeping one eye on the customer and the other on Lexa. Those are the days when she makes Lexa take more breaks, fixes her soup and dry toast she can nibble at that won't upset her stomach and is always refilling her drinks to keep them fresh. She launches herself into doing the clean up and the stocking, practically throwing herself at the ladder to reach things on high shelves before Lexa can even move to do it herself. She just makes it a given, a flow of responsibility between them. Lexa stays on her comfy little seat behind the counter and holds down the fort in that area, while Clarke takes up charge of everything else. They're a team. They got this.

But as things progress, it's less easy to cover up bad days with these little lighthearted patches. It becomes less about making Lexa feel alright in not performing at her best, and more about getting her to accept that doing nothing at all is perfectly ok as well.

Those are the days when Lexa can't really seem to make herself do more then sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the floor. Those are the days when she has to admit in a tiny voice that the room is kind of spinning too much for her to even feel safe on her own feet, much less making it to the bathroom, to the door, down the stairs.

So, once again, Clarke does all the heavy lifting for her. Quite literally, as in, actually scooping her up and carrying her down the stairs. Because Lexa hates being cooped up in her bedroom for long periods. Says it feels "too much like a prison. Like I'm already not a part of the world anymore, when I'm still right here."

And just hearing that kinda breaks something already very fragile in Clarke's heart, so she decided from the beginning that there'd be none of that.

Instead she just carries her downstairs or asks Gus to grab her if he's home (she knows he'd never admit it, but he still likes to feel useful despite knowing Clarke's already there). They can sit curled together in the livingroom watching movies or game shows because Lexa says that what she used to do with her mom on sick days. Sometimes, if Lexa's feeling up to it, they'll go sit on the front porch swing and take turns reading to each other for hours. Well. More Clarke reading to her than the other way around. Because on those days Lexa tends to drift off a lot, taking cat naps right there on Clarke's shoulder as she keeps reading to her in her sleep, one arm around her shoulders while the other holds the book propped open in her lap. And when the day is finally done, she just carries her girl back up to bed.

Clarke tries very very hard not to focus on herself on those days. It's almost easier that way, kind of like going on sort of autopilot. Because when she lets herself think too much about it, everything becomes too real, and this is about Lexa not herself. She can't let herself be selfish. Not on those days. So she buries and leaves it for a better day, should one ever come...

[offtorivendell]

I, Spy

🎄❤️🎄❤️🎄

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper my love, thank you so much for your friendship this past year.

Getting to know you has been an absolute joy. I wish you and your fam an amazing holiday season, and a happy and healthy 2023.

The following is just a little bit of silly, solsticey fluff. I couldn't remember whether you liked reading about kids or not, but this whole fic was written around Elain's last line haha.

I know, I know. Fair warning... it's terrible.

You'll see why. 🤣

Secret Santa out. ✌🏻

🎄❤️🎄❤️🎄

Read it on AO3 instead

1200 words

Modern AU

"Shadow" the cat was stolen shamelessly from @tswaney17's magnificent Across the Hallway fic. Thanks, Tay!

Rosa Archeron knew very well that she should be tucked up in bed—had, in fact, been there only five short minutes ago—but she needed to gather information for her father, to prove she could be the world's youngest spy. If she learnt the identity of Father Solstice, or at least what he looked like (something even her detective father hadn't been able to tell her), then she could brag at dinner tomorrow night and shut her cousin Nyx up for good.

Nyx was almost ten and insufferable with it. Who cared about being "big" when it meant one lost the best hiding spots? She didn't know why he was so happy about it.

Sleep could wait, some might say. Or maybe even there ain't no rest for the wicked, if she knew such a phrase at seven years old.

So Rosa had very quietly crawled out of bed, sneaked across the room she shared with her twin brother, Andy, while avoiding the squeaky floorboard that would alert her too-observant parents to her mission (because she may only be seven years old, but she wasn't born yesterday, thank you very much), and out the door onto the landing at the top of the stairs.

Phase one, complete.

Slowly crouching, before getting onto her belly, she poked her nose through the railings of the bannister and put the old spyglass she'd swiped from her ma's travel bag to her face.

Surveying the scene was very important, she knew. She couldn't just trust that her parents had gone to sleep yet. She and her brother had learnt that particular lesson when they were only five.

Phase two was going to be the hardest, because there was more than one squeaky step to this staircase at Rosehall, but if she made it all the way downstairs and into the back hallway, she could take the rear corridor to bypass her parents' bedroom door, making it to the lounge room, and getting through phase three undetected.

If all went to plan.

Her ma had better hearing than most people she knew, and her dad was just plain sneaky. Some days it seemed like he could slip into the shadows.

Taking a (quiet) deep breath, she worked up the courage to turn around and start descending the stairs backwards, on her hands and feet, avoiding steps number four and seven to perfection. Reaching the bottom without any noises she could hear, and pleased with herself, a small smile curved her mouth at one side.

Phase two was over; phase three should be much easier, especially since her eyes had, by now, adjusted to the dark.

Tip toeing across the flagstone floor to the far corner as silently as their black cat, Shadow, would have done, Rosa used the spyglass once more to check around the corner. Her ma and dad didn't sleep on this corridor, but one could really never be too careful, especially when one was up to mischief.

The coast being all clear, she kept up her tip toeing until she made it into the lounge room and, sliding behind the couch, breathed a sigh of relief.

Phase three? Tick. Now for phase four (hide) and phase five (stay awake until Father Solstice visited to deliver presents, making sure to get a good look at his face). She even had made sure not to drink much this evening, so she wouldn't have to run to the toilet and miss him. That would be awful.

Sitting for a minute, collecting her thoughts, Rosa decided that her best bet was still to hide under the sideboard along the west wall. Ideally she'd have got into her ma's camphorwood chest and ever-so-slightly propped the lid open with a folded bit of linen from inside, but it was too heavy to open by herself, and anyway, the hinges were too noisy.

The sideboard was still a good option; low enough that most people would miss her, especially in the dark, but she'd still have a clear view of anyone who came down the chimney, which was really the whole point of her mission.

Stifling a yawn, she crept out from behind the couch, grabbing her favourite solstice blanket as she went by, and crawled under the wooden cabinet in which her parents kept their good china. She loved watching as they got everything out for dinner parties, but she was still too young to be allowed the key herself.

Maybe Nyx was right; there would be at least some good from growing up.

After a little while, Rosa started to fiddle. Waiting was boring, after all, and she wished she was brave enough to get back out and swipe one of the gingerbread cookies that she and Andy had helped their ma make that morning, but the plate was for Father Solstice, and she didn't want to end up on the naughty list.

A few times she thought she saw some movement by the doorway, but maybe that was just her tired eyes playing tricks on her. Or the cat.

As the clock struck midnight she could have sworn she heard bells and footsteps, but nothing came of it.

Shadow found her in her hiding spot just before one o'clock, and promptly curled up beside her, purring happily.

Yawning some more, Rosa stretched her legs, careful to avoid knocking Shadow, and then brought them back under cover of the sideboard. Maybe she should have woken Andy up to help her out. She'd wanted to do this by herself, but it would be much easier to stay awake with her brother by her side. Louder, too, she supposed.

No, she decided as her eyes blinked closed for a little rest—just a quick one. She'd made the right choice in working alone tonight.

Thinking of the food that awaited her the next day kept her occupied for a little while, and then presents after that, but as it neared two o'clock she was needing to rest her eyes for longer and longer.

Just one more rest, then he'll come, Rosa thought. Just one—

***

At three o'clock on Solstice morning, Elain woke up to Azriel's gentle stroke of her hair and grinned.

"Has she fallen asleep yet?" She whispered.

"Finally," was his answer. "I just got her back to bed, she didn't even stir."

"It was a good effort on her behalf," Elain admitted. "She stayed awake far longer than I gave her credit for."

Azriel chuckled softly. "True, I'll give her that. The camera behind the elf on the shelf was a stroke of genius, though. And it helped that the cat was sticking out from under the sideboard, belly up and snoring."

Elain relaxed back into the pillows, content. "So, did Father Solstice get the extra presents out, and eat a cookie or two?"

"Three, in fact. Maybe next year we go with chocolate fudge or shortbread instead of ginger, though?" He murmured as he got back into bed.

Elain grimaced. "I'm sorry, the kids were insisting on gingerbread."

"That's alright." Az rolled over and looked at her, suddenly wicked. "You can make it up to me any time, you know."

"Come here then, Daddy Solstice."

Azriel only snorted as he pulled her to his chest.

[pbandjesse]

I just got home from my beading workshop. Which was so fun and such a lovely night. But I had to really hold myself together and of course as soon as I came home I completely fell apart. I just had a Popsicle and am laying down with sweetp. I am thankfully not nauseous but man am I tired.

It's not even that I am frustrated that I have to go to work. I'm frustrated when there isn't anything for me to do and I'm just. Sitting around. It drives me crazy. I could be at home! Laying down! Making stuff! But instead I'm just. Scrolling on Pinterest. But thankfully there was some stuff to do today, but there were still hours of me just being tired and frustrated.

I also didn't sleep well last night. I woke up at 2 and was absolutely completely awake. And my brain was looping about things I wanted to do in the house. Change the ceiling light. Packing James office to make space for baby. Ripping up carpets. Building a new closet. Feeling claustrophobic. Just not having the best time.

I would end up walking around the house and writing down things that I wanted to do. And emailed the list to James. They, being a sweetie, would write it all out and make a plan to get through my list. Love them so much.

I would eventually fall back asleep but it was not great. I woke up for real at 730 and I just felt really bad. But I had to get myself together to wait for our appliances to be delivered.

James would leave not long after I moved downstairs. I ate the peach I got yesterday. It was not quite ripe enough but it was still good.

I was laying on the couch when James texted me that they rescheduled our delivery again. For tomorrow. Frustrating. James was very mad. I was just annoyed but it's whatever.

I wasn't going to rush to work. Instead I would go and walk over to the CVS to get a refill of my zofran. Which ended up being really easy. While I waited for them to fill that I walked around the store. I got cheese puffs and moleskin to fix my shoes that gave me blisters. And once I had paid my $1.79 for my pills, I headed out.

I jumped in my car and drove to camp. There wasn't much traffic. I would get to camp around 9 and was still earlier then everyone else. And I didn't have my office keys so I decided I should just go up to art and fix my shoes with the moleskin. I would also gather a few more bead things for my workshop. And by the time I finished fixing the shoes I heard Elizabeth and Heather pull in. So I went to the office too.

I would spend the beginning of the day printing and stapling my handouts for the workshop. And I would work on creating a color sheet for my naft feild trips. And would print out some calendars for the next few months so I could write down all the trips and jobs and appointments. It's going to be a busy couple months.

I would work on some small tasks on the computer. Some emails, some gathering of information. But I also was just. Not doing enough. So I would spend a really large chunk of the day writing out notes for each specialty area from the summer. Who ran what. What went well, what didn't, things I think for next year. Suggestions about who should be running things and who shouldn't. My thought was since we were having a meeting today it would be good to be able to point toward this. Even if I wasn't there for the meeting.

I struggled to eat my lunch. Everything tasted bad today, or at least weird. I would eat most of the bag of the cheese puffs. And tried hard to drink water but it just tasted bad and it was very frustrating.

I would go up to art and laid in my hammock. I would end up falling asleep for a half hour. It was not a nice nap. Like it was really nice laying there but I felt very odd when I woke up and I was just not having fun.

I would shake it off best I could and would go back to the office. We were supposed to have a meeting today but it would end up getting moved to tomorrow. I was only annoyed because I wanted to go home so bad but I was staying for the meeting. But it's fine. I would be okay.

For the last hour I would work on some stuff for next year's music festival. And I felt good being productive. But by 330 I was like. It's time. I gotta go home.

So I checked in with Heather and she said that was fine. I got my stuff together and went home.

I'm glad I left when I did. Traffic was really bad and I wouldn't get home until 430. I only barely beat James. When I got back here I would turn the oven on so I could make a pizza.

James would get home and got to work changing the light in the studio. And I went and laid down while I waited for my pizza.

I had to leave here at 530. But that gave me enough time to finish gathering my materials and eat my pizza and be horizontal for a little bit.

But then it was time to go! And I was a little.nervous but it would end up being such a wonderful evening.

I set all my stuff up. And I had 7 people in my class. We would spend the first 20 minutes going over my background, the history of beading, and the tools we would use. I would show how to attach the beads. And then I set everyone to work.

Beading is a slow process. And we would work through 8. And it was just such a lovely group. We talked about work and life and it was just such a lovely night.

Beading on felt has its own problems. And our needles were getting wiggly and we were laughing and it was just such a good energy. We were also just laughing because there was a cowboy tapdance class above us?? It was so loud at times it was like they were going to fall right through the floor. But that would only go until 7. And our last hour was much quieter. With just my music playing.

We cleaned up at 8. And I only had the one basket so it was an easy clean up. And a few of them promised to sign up for my next class. They were excited to hear that all the home ecc classes were with me. Which made me feel really happy.

I also told them I just found out I was pregnant and when Parker was there I told him I was going to take the spring off to work on a "long term project" and showed him the ultrasound and I thought it was so funny. He was very excited for me, as were everyone in the class. It is really nice that other people are being so nice to me and excited for me. It helps a lot.

I went home and it's only about a 5 minute drive. I was very happy to be home where I could fall apart again.

James was here and was being so sweet. They got my that popsicle and I took a shower and now we are in bed. And I am so very very tired. Tomorrow they are apparently going to deliver our appliances, for real this time. Fingers crossed. And when that's done we'll see how I feel and if I'm going to go to camp. I probably will. I want to. I just want to have stuff to do.

Now though it is time for sleep. I love you all very much. Sleep well everyone. Goodnight!!

[loumauve]

sometimes I forget that it is in fact not normal to have sudden social anxiety spikes after only two days spent inside, away from other people.

(the kind that make it near impossible to even just step in front of the door and walk downstairs to check the letterbox, much less leave for long enough to get groceries)

rest of a long thing under the cut bc I don't want to bother anybody with my introspection. but I wanted it to be there in case someone else struggles with this. idk. helps to not feel entirely alone in dealing with this shit

and paid time off is a curse sometimes, because it leads to weeks not going outside, which then starts the entire cycle I've been working on disrupting all over again. and I know that the only solution is actually going outside even if it's just for a bit, but fuck if it isn't the hardest thing in the world sometimes.

and it's so at odds with how people know me, generally, folks at work, friends for the most part, because I've gotten real good at pushing through and just doing the things that my body tells me are dangerous, but then I stay at home for three days and I just.. fall apart.

it's not as bad as it used to be, I'm better at at least taking out the trash if I need to, and if I can work myself up to it even ordering food instead of going without meals if things get too bad, but it takes so much energy to do any of those small, everyday things that I should just be able to do. idk

I never really went to therapy for it even if it's the mental-illness shit I've dealt with for the longest time. they diagnosed me when I was 14 and by then I had probably 14 years of ingrained, bad habits built up. and they recommended group therapy which in retrospect probably could have helped a lot, but to me (teen bullied by other teens who felt unsafe around pretty much anyone, even at home) it sounded like hell so I refused to go.

I can still remember my mum telling me that I would instead have to work on dealing with it myself, finding strategies to live with it, I guess. we would play silly games like labyrinth before I'd have to go to school, but I'd just cry through it all and then oftentimes circle back home when I knew everyone would be out. suffice to say I did find ways to push myself to do the things that felt like walking into fire, and it worked enough to a point where it just felt like holding my hand over a candle flame for a little too long. bearable if painful. and I guess I'm still stuck there.

trauma therapy helped me process some things and put others in perspective, enough to at least move on (never forgive or forget though, that I'll leave to the people with bigger hearts) and we worked through some of the hangups, but overall not much has changed nor do I think it would given more time and therapy.

like my grandmother I struggle to make myself do things that I know I should sometimes. (and the Innerer Schweinehund is too strong) at least if I don't technically need to do those things to survive. instead I'll eat plain rice for weeks on end. or candy from two years ago, or drink coffee and eat nothing for a week. which, I know, is disordered eating which in and of itself would probably benefit from more therapy, but I guess as long as my body can deal with it it's good enough as is.

[cycle-verse]

Sometime, later that day, Killer finally decided to take a shower, and afterward, he went downstairs to the living room.

Horror was in the living room eating. Since Malevolence wasn’t there, he was working on something for his boys.

Killer moved to sit on the couch with a sigh.

Horror looked at him with a soft smile

Killer glanced at Horror, "Eat enough...?"

“Physically or mentally? Physically yes, but it never feels like enough,” Horror shrugged. The joys of being starved most of his life. “Did you get a good cry in?”

"As much of one as I can for now... gonna need to chug some water if I want to cry anymore."

“I think you should probably drink some water either way… hey, I know I gave you my burner but do you think I could call them a second? I haven’t since the whole, Malevolence got tied up by Error for attacking Dream thing,”

Killer nodded, taking out the phone to give Horror, "Go ahead..."

Horror smiled and pulled up his phone, sending a text before promptly getting a call.

Killer was quiet, leaning back into the couch.

“Hi- hi De! How are you, sweetheart? Yea? You start preschool tomorrow? No no, that must be too soon,” Horror sounded pained as he spoke but he was trying to mask it. He’d missed most of his kids' lives, he’d never even met his youngest.

“I know, I can’t talk long… oh yea?” He looked at Killer and smiled. The call only lasted a couple of minutes. “Yea? Thank you Lust… give the boys a big hug from me…”

Horror then hung up and sighed. “When we get Night back, I want him to meet the boys,”

"He'll love them, I'm sure..." Killer wrapped his jacket more around himself, sinking down a bit into the couch.

“Yea… hey Killer… I hate to ask but is it Nights? Or…”

"It's... a little complicated..."

“That’s understandable…” Horror seemed worried and sighed.

"I mean... technically... they are the same person... sharing the same soul... and I really do want it to be Night's... but it wasn't *with* Night, because of my stupid emotion thing..."

“Killer…” Horror whispered, cautiously.

"It's... weird... none of it was non-consensual... but I'm more in tune with emotions than other Sanses... if Malevolence fakes it enough, I'll think he's Night, usually until the next morning..."

“That’s…” Horror seemed a bit confused but it wasn’t meant to be harmful, it was just… confusion

"See...? Confusing..." Killer sighed softly. "And I'm afraid that that could also ruin hiding it... what if I think he's Night and I tell him...? But I don't want to leave Night..."

“Isn’t he hooked on the whole heir thing again? Like he was when Stain was born? When Cross was taken he decided he needed an heir again so I mean… he might not take it violently…” Horror was trying to find a solution where Killer would be at least slightly safe AND stay.

"Maybe... but he also might not find me suitable... he's a little strange like that..."

“That he is… but Night loves you and he’s broken out to protect people before…@

"I know... but still... if Night *does* appear... it could only be temporary, or he might not appear at all..."

“I know… I know… I’m just trying to think,”

Killer moved to lay on his side, "Thinking is hard... maybe I'll go steal an old sweatshirt that smells like Night and hide in it instead..."

“That sounds like a good idea,” Horror joked, although he was also serious

"It really does..." Killer got up and headed upstairs to steal a sweatshirt from Malevolence's room.

Horror just sighed and began to watch TV.

Killer came back down after a few minutes and sat with Horror, "I found one..."

“I’m glad,” Horror said, honestly. “I made some extra lunch if you want any.”

Killer shook his head, now wrapped in both Nightmare's and his own sweatshirt, "I'm alright..."

“Sounds good…” Horror sighed and yawned, leaning his head back.  “Think he’ll actually be out all day?”

"Hopefully..." Killer moved to lie on his side again. "I might take a nap and I don't want him getting upset..."

“You have more leeway than us, you’d probably be able to get away with it,” technically Malevolence didn’t care how much Horror slept, he starved him instead. Horror could sleep all day but he could only eat once every few.

"Oh, but I'm supposed to be his ever-vigilant soldier..."

“And a vigilant soldier cannot be haunted by his demons and feeding the negativity pool if he doesn’t sleep,” Horror joked. “If Dust and Cross stay awake too long, they hallucinate their dead siblings again, and I go back to where I used to be when I’m hungry… but I only thought your nightmares are what he wanted from you…”

"My nightmares are basically everything under the sun... I lost *everyone* in my au, remember...?"

“Yes, but is that what he uses to build your negativity, or is it just… you looking at him and not being Night.”

"Both... he likes the look on my face, and he enjoys what I give off with my nightmares..."

“Well that’s fun for you,” Horror grumbled, crossing his arms

"Yup, real fun..." Killer pulled a hood over his head.

Horror sighed, “I know that if I eat too much more, I could make myself sick, but I feel like I NEED to…”

"Want to see if holding my hand would help at all...?"

“I… are you sure?”

"I'm sure... might even help me..." Killer offered Horror his hand.

Horror smiled and took his hand. It seemed to help him, ground him in the moment instead of his oast

Killer didn't mind, closing his eyes to try and rest while Malevolence was gone.

~~~~~

Malevolence didn’t return until it was dark out, and he looked pleased enough with himself that even if Killer had still been asleep, which he wasn’t, he would have let it pass.  Instead, Killer was awake and still wearing Nightmare’s sweatshirt.

“Nice sweatshirt,” Malevolence hummed as he spotted it.

“Horror, would you be a dear and make us dinner? I want to celebrate,” he hummed and Horror just looked at Killer

Killer didn't even pay attention to the sweatshirt comment, "Celebrate... what, exactly?"

“Oh, just my victory,” Malevolence hummed and Horror just gave Killer a look, refusing to move until Killer nodded or something, signaling that it was okay

Killer nodded slightly, a signal to Horror, but Malevolence likely thought it was some sort of curiosity, "Want to tell me more about said victory?"

Horror backed away and Malevolence grinned, wrapping his arms loosely around Killer. “I broke off Ink's wing, Killer. I got Error to fire his blaster at me and while he was tired from that, I got Ink’s wing!”

"That sounds impressive... still no sign of Cross?" Killer made sure to hide his negativity over Ink being hurt, waiting until he was told that Cross still wasn't back.

“No, no sign of Cross. Error was there though and he made a pretty smart defense. He used his strings to make a dome,” Smart? Malevolence didn’t say anything anyone did was smart…

“Oh, I’m glad you and the others won’t leave me. It’d be a shame to have to get a new crew. They wouldn’t be as fun as you.”

"I'm sure they wouldn't..." Killer went pretty quiet, letting the negativity flow a bit. It was about Ink getting hurt, but Malevolence could assume it to be about the loss of Cross.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get him back, I just know it,” Malevolence kissed the side of Killer's head before moving away. “In honor of my victory, Horror gets to eat dinner and everyone gets to sleep well. A victory is worth celebrating, no?”

"I suppose it is..." Killer watched Malevolence. After his nap, he'd chugged more water, and at this point, he felt like he could start crying again, for many reasons, most of them bad.

Malevolence smiled at Killer, warmly. “What would I do without you, Killer?”

"I'm not sure, probably the same thing, but without someone to celebrate with..."

“There’d be more I missed too,” Malevolence hummed.

Killer could only nod, unable to stop tears from beginning to fall.

“Hey… hey… what’s wrong?” Malevolence sounded so much like Night then as he reached to cup Killer's face and wipe his tears.

"I d-don't know..." Killer leaned his head into Malevolence's hands.

“Shhh… shhh… I’ve got you,” Malevolence pulled Killer into a gentle hug

Killer rested his head against him, more tears falling, "I-I'm w-warm..."

Malevolence raised a hand to feel Killer's head, worried

Killer was running a fever, and he moved to hold onto Malevolence, seeming weaker than usual.

“Oh no,” Malevolence whispered. “No, Killer you have a fever… come on, we have to get you resting,”

Killer made a slight noise, hiding his face against Malevolence's shoulder.

“Shhh… shhh,” With ease, Malevolence picked Killer up and carried him upstairs

Killer let out a slight noise, which seemed more out of stress, "N-Night...?"

Malevolence adjusted his hold on Killer, “Hmm?”

"I-I-m sorry..." Killer didn't exactly know what for, but he felt like he had to stay it.

“It’s okay…” Malevolence didn’t know either, just guessing that it was because he was sick. He laid killer down in his bed. “I want you to rest okay?”

Killer nodded a bit, curling up once he was laid down.

Malevolence tucked him in and kissed his head. “I’ll bring you up some dinner…”

"Th-Thank you..."

“Of course. Is there anything you need before I go back downstairs?”

Killer shook his head, grabbing a pillow to cry into since he couldn't seem to stop.

“Okay…” Malevolence kissed Killer’s head again before walking back downstairs

[kaesaaurelia]

better to reign in a soho bookshop

For @whumptober day 16, using the prompts “don't go where I can't follow" and the lyric prompt, “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Continued from Day 5, wherein Aziraphale returns to Earth, hoping some allies he’s contacted will be able to help him, has a big fight with some archangels, and is horribly injured leaping in front of Crowley, who wasn’t supposed to be there, Day 8, wherein one of Aziraphale’s angelic allies (and an old enemy of Crowley’s) rushes in to distract the Metatron while Crowley scrambles to save a horribly wounded Aziraphale, and the three of them manage to get away from the archangels in the Bentley, and Day 15, wherein Aziraphale reveals that he's stolen the Book of Life, and Crowley reveals that one of Aziraphale's wounds means he's probably going to Fall.

CW for explicit sexual content; mention of past Satan/Crowley.

Of course, it wasn't as easy as all that. Crowley was torn between the desire to just look at Aziraphale and drink in the fact that, for however long, he was back, here, with Crowley, and the desire to keep himself away from Aziraphale so he wouldn't pelt him with all the irritating questions he wanted to ask, and of course, the desire to ask those irritating, often angry questions. And also, obviously, he wanted to kiss Aziraphale, but given how well that had gone last time, he didn't dare.

Instead, after a few moments of reassuring himself that Aziraphale, whatever his injuries, wasn't just going to vanish again, Crowley said, "Someone should probably bandage those wounds, at least."

"Ah. No," said Aziraphale, "unfortunately."

"Well. Let's do that," said Crowley, and he busied himself with unbuttoning Aziraphale's once-pristine white shirt, now stained with red, and carefully helping him get it off. There was still a nasty gouge on his chest, a matching one on his back, and things were probably still repairing themselves in there, but Cerviel's miracle had stopped the bleeding and it seemed to be in effect still. The other wound was a thin slice along his collarbone, barely a graze, but from the way Aziraphale reacted when Crowley touched it, it must be excruciating. "Have you got any bandages here, angel?"

"There are some in the downstairs bathroom, there's a first aid kit there," said Aziraphale. "For liability purposes, in case a customer gets hurt or something."

"You mean in case a customer trips and cracks their skull open, because you keep the lights too dim for humans to see well in the back of the shop," said Crowley.

"For liability purposes," Aziraphale insisted.

Crowley stood to go find the first aid kit, but as he approached the door he overheard bits of a slightly-too-loud conversation. "Hang on, angel," he said, and ducked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. "Exssscuse me," he hissed at the speakers, two woman-shaped persons he did not recognize from behind.

They turned, and Crowley saw Nanael, Principality of Vienna, and Nisroc, who was not technically a Principality anymore, having Fallen with the Watchers. She had been keeping an eye on Los Angeles as payback to Vehuel ever since the two of them had faked her death a couple centuries ago, since Los Angeles had somehow slipped through the cracks of Heaven's bureaucracy.

Nisroc clapped her hands and favored him with a sharp-toothed smile. "Crowley! How are you?"

Crowley did not like Nisroc even a little bit, so he did not feel bad saying, "Shut up. Aziraphale's trying to ressst." Technically Crowley had struggled tooth and nail to get Aziraphale to try and rest, but now that he was in a bed he seemed to agree it was for the best whether or not he was actually trying.

"Is he all right?" Nanael asked, in a quieter voice. Crowley liked Nanael much better, but this was perhaps because they had only met once and she'd probably assumed he was Aziraphale's human lover. She was looking at him now as if she wanted to ask about that, but he didn't care to go into it just now, because there would be accusations of kindness when all he'd really done was drive her around a bit in various stolen cars while she'd had her miracles turned off. Deceiving an imperiled angel and implicating her in crimes was a fine misdeed, Crowley had told himself at the time.

"Not -- it'ss complicated. He'sss hurt," said Crowley. "Michael got to him."

"Oh fuck her," said Nisroc, although at least she was keeping her voice down. "We're gonna do some baking because we're stressed the fuck out and also I'm not allowed to leave the bookstore anymore. Any requests?"

"Why are you not allowed to leave?" Crowley asked, suspiciously.

"Got into it with Moroni about scones," said Nisroc mournfully. "I'm right, by the way."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Nisroc rolled her eyes and made a scoffing sound. "Look, it was one little free personality test, it wasn't cult recruitment, it was like, one of those ones where you pick from a bunch of song lyrics you're not familiar with and it tells you what kind of frog you are. I made up the song lyrics," she said, "and also the frogs, but, come on. I can't believe Moroni would snitch on me like this over scones. We've been pen pals for centuries."

"You made up the frogs?" Nanael asked, sounding disappointed.

"Do I look like I know anything about frogs?" Nisroc asked.

"Look, I don't care, jussst. Be quiet," said Crowley.

"Sure, sure," said Nisroc. "What's Aziraphale's favorite dessert, though?"

Crowley's mind went blank and all he could think about was watching Aziraphale devour sweets with such delight and appreciation that Crowley ought to be at least a bit jealous of them, only he wasn't, because he'd been staring, because it was fucking hot. "A-all of them?"

Nanael laughed. "He will like whatever we make, I think. Even if it isn't very good."

"Oh honey, don't worry, it'll be good," said Nisroc. She had been Beelzebub's private chef for a while, and Crowley had to admit some of the stuff at those feasts had smelled pretty good, even if an alarming amount of it had incorporated bugs and/or human flesh. "If you could go ahead and see what we've got in stock and what we'll have to miracle in, that would be great, though?" Nanael nodded happily and went, leaving Crowley alone in the corridor with Nisroc.

"Hey, so, sorry I uh, tried to eat you all those times?" said Nisroc. "I promise it wasn't personal, I was just trying to make my quota, you know?"

"We were all trying to make our quota," Crowley said. "Most of usss didn't end up permanently on display on the Mexican flag and coat of arms over it, though."

"Wait, what?" Nisroc pulled out her phone and tapped on it a few times. "Oh my god, I didn't even realize? Wow, they did not make any effort to get your look right at all. I am so sorry. Just. Godawful."

"You're ssorry they didn't get me right but not for dragging me into the middle of a lake to eat me?" Crowley demanded.

"Well, I mean, I look fucking fantastic on this flag," she said, looking down at her phone, "but you're..." She expanded an image on her phone and squinted at it. "...kinda squirmy and pathetic and green, so like. I mean, did they even look at you? Anyway, you totally fucked me over in the end there, the feathered serpent thing was a really good personal branding strategy, so... well-played? Like, I absolutely thought you were just Satan's little favorite but you actually are that good. How did you never get promoted?"

Crowley tried not to be flattered, because he wanted to keep hating Nisroc, but also an apology was worth nothing compared to telling him he was clever, even if both were insincere. He tried to work out if Nisroc was being insincere, but if she was, she was selling it well. "Well. I mean. I was Satan's favorite," he admitted, "just.... I don't think he wanted anyone else to realize I was clever."

She laughed. "Sucks for him you found someone way better, I guess." She glanced at the bedroom door before venturing on, more seriously. "Look, uh. Aziraphale was super nice to me right after I Fell, and it meant a lot to me because I was pregnant and miserable and scared, but, uh, I also definitely bit off two of his fingers the very next time we met?" She had the decency to look ashamed.

"Yes," said Crowley, irritably. "I was there." The fight had been over him, apparently; Nisroc had wanted to feed Crowley to her son Grendel.

"Yeah, but you were out cold," said Nisroc, "so I figured, no shame if you didn't remember. Anyway, I dunno what strings he pulled to get my baby out of Heaven but holy shit, I owe him, and, and --" She looked perilously close to crying, and Crowley didn't know what he was supposed to do with that, not when Aziraphale was Falling and there was nothing he could do about it. "Look. Whatever I can do. I'll even be quiet and stay out of the way, and you know that's not my jam at all."

Crowley considered telling her about Aziraphale; that he was probably Falling, that it was an uncertain kind of Fall and not one to Hell, necessarily. He considered telling her about how Lucifer had Fallen, how the lake of fire had come from him, and what he'd told Crowley about it, and what little Crowley believed of that. But he wanted Aziraphale all to himself right now, and he was tired of all these other people laying claim to him. "Sstay out of the way," he said.

Nisroc gave him a little nod. "Sure. Okay." She did not leave, though. "What's your favorite dessert?"

He boggled at her. "What?"

"Maybe Aziraphale likes everything, but we could make something you'd like," said Nisroc.

Crowley had never once considered this. "I. I don't. Something with apples?"

Nisroc appeared mildly annoyed that he didn't have an extremely specific request, but then she shrugged. "We'll make it work. Oh, and..." She waved a hand as if she was casting something up into the air, and nothing changed, exactly, but the sound and the shadows were different; everything felt hushed and a bit somber -- not in a funereal way, but in a respectful one, as if this was a great library or a museum. "I can keep things peaceful out here, at least," she said. "Anyway. Probably don't tell him I said hey, since he still thinks I'm dead, I guess? But if I could've said hey, I would've."

And before he could even consider thanking her, she turned and headed back to the kitchen.

Crowley tried to put the whole weird conversation out of his mind as he hurried downstairs to get the bandages. He found them quickly, slipping back through the main room of the bookshop unnoticed. Cerviel seemed to be talking about what he thought they should do if Heaven staged an aerial assault on the bookshop with the angel Moroni, a small turtle demon Crowley had never seen in his life, somebody Crowley thought might be the Principality of Berlin, and someone who, as far as Crowley could tell, was just a pale, scruffy human man who needed more sleep. He hurried back up the stairs, not wanting to be pulled into whatever nonsense was going on there. He was at most a dabbler in aerial defense.

When he got back to the bedroom, Aziraphale's eyes were closed, and Crowley panicked for a moment, but his chest rose and fell, and Crowley made a face at his own stupidity.

"Angel?" he said, quietly.

Aziraphale's eyes opened, and he sat up, making a pained face. "Who were you talking to out there?"

"Someone you were kind to," said Crowley, "one of the other Principalities."

"They're not giving you any trouble, are they?" Aziraphale asked.

"Nah," said Crowley. "I'm not even the only demon here. At least one of them's a human. What did you tell them?" And why didn't you tell me?

"Ah. Well. The first thing I did was fix the mess Gabriel had made of all our -- rather, Heaven's," he corrected, "communications with the Earth agents," said Aziraphale, as Crowley started working on covering the wound on his chest. "So when it came time for me to leave, it was fairly simple to let everyone know what Heaven was planning to do to Earth, and it's been my experience that the more time you spend on Earth the less you want it to be destroyed. I imagine the demons are people who've been working closely with other angels; I wouldn't have been able to send them messages."

"What about the human? Also, move over, I've got to get the one on your back," said Crowley.

"Heaven's been... hm... outsourcing its work to humans in some places," said Aziraphale, wincing as he moved. "The pay is abysmal, and they're contract workers so they get no benefits, of course, not even recorporation. I reached out to them separately and told them they probably ought to ignore my message but I suppose some people are going to show up to the apocalypse whether or not they can do anything about it." He frowned. "I suppose we were those people, once upon a time. Oh, I'm sorry I dragged you into this again, my dear," he said.

Crowley froze. "What do you mean, dragged into? I got a call from Muriel telling me to come right to the bookshop and not to go looking for you, and --"

"Yes, well, I assumed they'd go after you if I left," said Aziraphale. "Use you as a hostage or something. I was planning to take something from them that was important to them, after all. I assumed you'd be in, in, outer space or wherever, by now, but Muriel said --"

"Outer ssspace?" Crowley was fumbling around trying to get the adhesive tape straight on the second bandage but he gave up and miracled it before standing so that he could look Aziraphale in the eye. "Did you think I'd jussst... run off?"

"Well. You always seemed to want to," said Aziraphale, looking pained.

"With you," Crowley said. "I wanted to run off with you. No point in doing it otherwissse."

"Ah," said Aziraphale, going pink. "Well. I assumed you'd rather be safe than --"

"I would rather be with you," said Crowley, "but you wanted me to be an angel again and --" He looked at the wound from Michael's sword. Had it got bigger? Deeper? No, he was imagining things. "Well. I suppose in a bit neither of us is going to be an angel. Ssorry about that."

"Crowley, I wanted us to be together without Heaven or Hell hurting you. And I thought --" He swallowed. "Well. I thought a lot of naive things about Heaven. But I love you." His voice was shaking now. "You, as you are, with your inconvenient questions and your appalling driving and your lovely eyes and your kindness that you pretend isn't there."

Crowley found he could not look Aziraphale in the eye; he had his glasses on, so at least he had that small mercy, but he was still alone in a room with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale was confessing his love, his love, and Crowley didn't know what to say about it, so instead he looked away and said, "Sss'posse I should bandage the cut from the sssword now, yeah? Jusst. Jusst so you don't touch it by accident."

There was a long silence. "I suppose you should," said Aziraphale, sounding very unhappy about it.

So Crowley found himself crawling onto the bed so he could get at that side of Aziraphale's chest, and carefully trying to cover the long, shallow cut without touching it, and also without looking at Aziraphale's face. Which mostly meant he was looking at Aziraphale's chest, which was soft and covered in white-gold hairs, and listening to Aziraphale's breath hitching as Crowley's fingers got too close to the wound, and when he was finished, because he supposed he had to, he sat back and looked at Aziraphale and, very grudgingly, said, "I... love you too."

Aziraphale's intake of breath and his hopeful expression were -- they were something. They were doing something to his chest that was a little bit overwhelming. "I -- I thought maybe. But even now?"

"What do you mean even now?" Crowley demanded, appalled. "Even now. You've gone off for a few years to do ssomething ssilly in Heaven and you think I'm going to jusst -- I've -- felt like thisss for thoussssands of yearssss and you think -- even now? I'm --"

"Oh," said Aziraphale, looking astonished for a moment. "Oh. Well. Good." Then he grinned at Crowley. "I do love it when you get so flustered you're hissing every other word, my dear." And he leaned forward a bit and pulled Crowley down by his tie and kissed him and this time, this time there was no crying, no tragic choice to tear them apart, there was only Crowley leaning forward, overbalancing a bit, and accidentally headbutting Aziraphale in his desire to get closer to him. Aziraphale winced as Crowley scrambled back.

"Ssorry, sssorry, fuck," said Crowley. "I. Fuck." He fumbled to take his sunglasses off, threw them aside, and kissed Aziraphale again.

This third kiss was just as desperate as the first one, but it was a different flavor of desperate, an I haven't seen you in ages and who knows how long we even have kiss, and Crowley pushed Aziraphale back down onto the bed, on hand on his cheek and the fingers of the other against his chest, careful not to touch any of his wounds.

They parted and Crowley looked down at him. Aziraphale was beaming like he wasn't Falling, like he hadn't been made into an angel kebab an hour or so ago, like they hadn't had a vicious argument and parted ways for years. "I've missed you," said Aziraphale, taking the hand that had been on his cheek.

"Yeah," said Crowley, who was suddenly painfully aware that he didn't know what he was supposed to do now. What did you do when the love of your life finally articulated that he returned your affections, and that they were wanted? He had not planned for this moment. The before he had much experience of; the after had been the subject of daydreams and also somewhat more carnal fantasies, but the middle... nothing. His body was reminding him of those other fantasies, though, noticing the warmth of Aziraphale's flesh, remembering the feel of his lovely soft mouth, hearing his heavy breathing. "Aziraphale...." His voice came out rough and a bit wobbly.

"Kiss me again?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley could deny neither himself nor Aziraphale, so he did. Aziraphale's hand on his chest became a hand slipping under Crowley's shirt, which emboldened Crowley enough to trail his own hand down Aziraphale's chest and between his legs, where he found that Aziraphale was very hard.

Aziraphale moaned as Crowley squeezed his cock. "Do you want --"

"Please," said Aziraphale, and Crowley fumbled one-handed with Aziraphale's trousers while Aziraphale unbuttoned Crowley's shirt. Crowley shed jacket and shirt without bothering to separate the two, then pulled Aziraphale's cock out. He gave it an experimental stroke, and Aziraphale gasped; then he knelt and slid his lips over the head and Aziraphale swore, which was extraordinary to hear and weirdly erotic in and of itself.

Crowley wasted no time in taking the whole cock in, and Aziraphale's hand tangled in his hair, and, fuck, he hadn't realized how much he would like that when Aziraphale did it -- or quite how tight these trousers were -- until now. His own hips jerked involuntarily against the bed and he moaned. "Crowley," Aziraphale gasped and thrust into him, the fingers in Crowley's hair tightening, thus perpetuating the most pleasurable feedback loop Crowley had ever been subject to.

Crowley savored the ridiculous things Aziraphale said about Crowley's beauty and his fiendishness; the biggest downside, really, was that his mouth was too full to make fun of Aziraphale for any of them. When he came, Crowley mostly managed to swallow it, though some of it ended up spilling down his chin. "Crowley, darling," said Aziraphale, stroking his fingers through Crowley's hair, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You were..." He trailed off, and reluctantly, Crowley sat up, wiping his chin off with one hand. "I have wanted you so very much," said Aziraphale.

His pulse was pounding, and the sight of Aziraphale flushed with pleasure -- pleasure Crowley had given him -- just made him want more. But his eyes lingered on the bandages he'd just applied. "Fuck. Should -- should we be doing this?"

"I don't know that should really comes into it anymore," said Aziraphale.

"I meant because of your, your, um." Crowley gestured at the bandages. "Because you're hurt."

"Oh. Well. If the Fall wasn't going to kill me I don't think any -- any acts of physical love are going to finish the job, as long as we don't get too wild," said Aziraphale, looking mildly embarrassed. "And if it is going to kill me," he said, scowling, "I refuse to let it take this away from us."

"Well. In that case, I'm going to -- I mean, if it's all right -- I'm going to fuck you," said Crowley. He didn't know why he should be so flustered, they'd got all the confession stuff out of the way, wasn't it supposed to be easier now?

Then Aziraphale looked him up and down, eyes lingering on what Crowley now realized was an extremely visible erection. "I thought you'd never ask," he said.

Crowley vanished the rest of their clothes away with a gesture so he could spread Aziraphale's legs. "We're ridiculous, aren't we?" he said. He eased a couple fingers, miraculously slick, into Aziraphale's arse.

"A bit," Aziraphale gasped. Crowley pressed into him, trying to make Aziraphale gasp again, and was rewarded with a startled "Oh!" as Aziraphale's hips jerked forward. He experimented a bit further. "Really, Crowley, stop teasing me," said Aziraphale. "Haven't I suffered enough today?" For about half a second he managed to look very pathetic and tragic, but then Crowley moved his fingers and he just looked desperately horny.

"Jussst trying to make ssure I know what I'm doing, angel."

"I -- but you haven't -- I thought you --"

"Not the -- I haven't..." Crowley was embarrassed suddenly at the accidental admission. "I mean, I've. Lucifer and I... But he didn't want me to fuck him. Undignified, or ssomething. And I didn't want -- humanss weren't...." He trailed off.

"Well, I'm happy to be as undignified as any-- hnn, Crowley, that's.... oh."

"Think I've got it," said Crowley, grinning. Aziraphale looked quite helpless in the face of pleasure, and his dick was already half-hard again. "Ready?"

"Crowley, if you don't get on with it right now --"

Crowley withdrew his fingers and, one frantic, fumbling moment later, pushed his dick into Aziraphale, eliciting a sharp moan. Crowley had intended to go slowly at first, but Aziraphale felt so fucking good around him that he ended up clutching Aziraphale's thighs and fucking him a little frantically for the first few thrusts. He shifted his hips a bit, and Aziraphale's little gasps of pleasure became whimpering, and he forced himself to slow down a bit, the better to savor the way Aziraphale felt and looked and sounded.

"Don't stop, don't stop," said Aziraphale, who was trembling, hips moving like his entire being depended on just how much of Crowley's dick he could get into himself at every thrust. Crowley began jerking Aziraphale off to the same rhythm, and fuck, they should have been doing this before, they should have been doing this ages ago, Crowley hadn't seen such ravenous desire from Aziraphale since he'd tried food, and Crowley'd certainly got himself off enough times thinking of that night. Both of them came too quickly, but by mutual agreement Crowley miraculously waived the need for a refractory period several times over; they deserved this, he thought, and Aziraphale clearly agreed.

Afterwards, they collapsed together, breathless, Crowley still inside Aziraphale and their bellies sticky with Aziraphale's come. "Oof, ssorry," said Crowley, pulling out of Aziraphale and rolling off to the side so he didn't hurt him.

"Come back here, I don't want to have to lean on this shoulder to kiss you," said Aziraphale, and Crowley, happy to do as he was told for once, leant over to share a sloppy kiss with him. "You're so lovely when you're happy," said Aziraphale. "Practically radiant."

"Shut up, you ssoppy basstard," said Crowley, laughing. He kissed Aziraphale again. "Fuck. I really do love you," he said.

"You sound surprised," said Aziraphale.

"I'm not," said Crowley, "it just keeps. I dunno. Hitting me in the chest." He looked over Aziraphale again, and wished he was not so wounded. "You'd better be all right, angel. If you're not I'm taking it up with God."

"Oh, please don't," said Aziraphale. "Anyway, I won't be an angel any longer. I'll be... whatever Lucifer is, I suppose. Not a demon, exactly." He made a face. "If it's all the same to you I'd rather just be a demon, though, I never did see the appeal of ruling in Hell."

"Serving in Hell's not great either," Crowley reminded him.

"No, I suppose not," said Aziraphale. "I don't have to, do I?"

"Have to what?" Crowley asked.

"Reign in Hell," said Aziraphale.

"I mean. Do you want to challenge Satan to a cosmic arm wrestling contest?" he asked.

"Not really," said Aziraphale. "And Hell seemed extremely uncomfortable last time I was there."

Crowley couldn't tell if this was damnation with faint praise, or praise with faint damnation, but either way it seemed a bit of an understatement. "Then don't do that," he said, snuggling up as close to him as he could without touching the bandages. "Maybe you can reign in a Soho bookshop instead."

"I don't want to reign," Aziraphale said.

"Then you can read and eat cake," said Crowley.

"Are you falling asleep?"

"Jussst. Closing my eyes," said Crowley. "Definitely sstill awake."

(In a few moments, he was not.)