#don’t even try to convince me that Hiccup was not in constant danger at all times towards the end of Rtte

[thereweredragonshere]

Buff Astrid is the objectively correct interpretation because between her and Toothless, Hiccup has twice the scary dog privilege.

It is objectively correct. Factual even. This is literal evidence.

“Who are they? Oh yeah pay them no mind, they’re just there so I can go out in public without being kidnapped,”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Worry

The Pool | The Difference | The Notes | The Fear | The Thought | The Question | The Walk | The Ordeal | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Warnings: The next two chapters will deal with pregnancy, societal pressure around pregnancy, and concerns around pregnancy! I’ve CW’d them for that in the tags!! If you need me to add any additional tags, please let me know. I’m not a doctor. Just, you know. Disclaimer.

Also cursing; canon-typical violence Notes: Angsty and fluffy Summary: You don’t want to give a voice to your panic before you know that anything’s actually wrong. 

It’s been a question since before you and Borracho even get married: So when are you two having kids?  You just laugh it off when his sisters ask, and his mom, and Gabriel, that one time. When you were dating it was only once in a while - usually when you turned down the offer of a beer because you’d agreed to be the designated driver between the two of you for that night. Nadia or Megan or Isobel would sidle up to you and pat your stomach and waggle their eyebrows, and you’d just laugh and knock their hands away and screech, “I’m driving!” But now that you’re married… Well, it’s almost constant. And it’s not just from his family. You know that the guys have a pool going about whether or not you’ll be pregnant by the end of the year. The website that you guys used to register for wedding gifts is popping into your inbox every other week to set up your baby shower registry.

And you and Borracho have talked about the kids thing before, a few times since the weekend that you looked after Lissie. Thing is, you haven’t talked about it in a while, but you know that Borracho’s thinking about it. He hasn’t been smoking - he’s been using nicotine patches and chewing gum like a fiend. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs and mutters something about, “having to kick the habit some time”. He’s a little moody about it, sure, but you had been very clear when the two of you spoke that you didn’t want cigarette smoke about your child - “Besides,” You’d murmured when you’d talked about it, “It’s not good for you, Benny. And I want you around for a long time.” That fact that he’s doing that sort of signals a ‘soon?’ to you, but you don’t talk about it. You’re not sure you want to. Talking about it would make it real, and making it real might freak you out, and you really, really want to bask in your honeymoon phase for a little while longer. His family is still pretty pushy about it. When you get handed a kid at any family function, or you help of your own volition, you inevitably hear something somewhere behind you about, “practice,” and “it’ll be different when she has her own”. And you know that it’s because they’re excited for you and Borracho, but it’s starting to wear. There’s one day when you’re cleaning popsicle off of Lissie’s chin, and you hear Nadia coo about you looking like a little mother. And you’re so, so tempted to ask if she’d rather you just let her child make a mess. You’re not being a mother, you’re just trying to help. If Borracho were doing this, would he look like a little father to them? But instead you give her a tight smile and turn back to Lissie, and let the baby’s garbled speech make you smile for real. -- That night, you wait until Borracho has fallen asleep before you get up and do a little research. And a little research brings on a lot of worry. -- You still don’t talk about it. The talking will make it feel real. You don’t want to give a voice to your panic before you know that anything’s actually wrong. But the thing is you and Borracho have technically been trying since you got married. You’re not on the pill, you’re both clean, so you haven’t been using condoms. You’ve been tracking your cycle, you know your ovulation window, and while you did think, once after you came back from your honeymoon that you two might be-- Well, your period was just a couple of days late, so it didn’t matter anyway. You didn’t mention it to him. You read an article that tells you that 80% of couples conceive after 6 months of trying; the same article tells you that 90% conceive after a year of trying. You and Borracho have been trying for 8 months and-- nothing. So maybe there’s something wrong? Some irregularity with your ovulation cycle - or maybe he could have a low sperm count, you don’t think he’s ever gotten that checked out. All of this is in your head. It’s not on your mind, it’s just hanging out in the background. Occasionally it drifts to the forefront and you wave it back to its place, along with the worries that if, somehow, you ever managed to have a child, you’d be an awful mother and the kid would hate you. -- Borracho, bless him, waits. He doesn’t ask right away. Whatever it is that’s wrong, he can tell you’re not ready to talk about, and he’s got the feeling that the conversation will make him want a cigarette, anyway, so maybe it’s for the best that he lets you come to him with it. -- Your first anniversary should be sweet. It’s not. It’s actually kind of an ordeal. The guys have been working an art theft case for the last three months and you’ve been so consumed by it that you haven’t even had time to worry about whether or not you can get pregnant because the two of you have been so busy that you’ve hardly had time to have sex. After a particularly hard night, Borracho broke down and bummed a cigarette off of Connors, and you didn’t begrudge him that one. You’d just sat outside of the bar with him and rubbed your hand between his shoulder blades. “I’ll be back on the patches and gum tomorrow,” He’d sworn to you, and you’d just told him that it was alright, and that you loved him, and that you knew that this was hard for him. He’d flicked the cigarette butt away and practically pulled you into his lap, kissing your neck and murmuring that he wanted to marry you all over again. And then Nick had come out and threatened to arrest the both of you for public indecency. But you and Borracho spend most of your first anniversary getting ready for a sting. Nick’s managed to rope you into field work again (much to Borracho’s chagrin). You’re posing as a buyer, and meeting up with the man that had stolen the painting from the Kohn Gallery. None of the guys can do it - this dealer’s been busted by them before, he’ll recognize them right off. You’re the only one whose face he doesn’t know. When you show at the station, the guys let out little mutters; Connors gets out half of a wolf-whistle before Nick punches him in the shoulder. You arch a brow. You’re not sure what it is - the suit you’ve opted to wear, the pointed-toe heels, or the wig. This one isn’t pink, of course - it’s similar to your hair, but it has a loose, styled wave to it. “Why don’t you ever come to the office like this?” Henderson teases, even as Borracho stares him down. “You all never get dressed up for me, why the fuck would I get dressed up for you?” You retort. “She’s got a point. We’re rollin’ out in ten,” Nick adds. Borracho stands from his desk and walks over to yours, watching you reach under the wig to put in your earpiece. “You’re sure you wanna do this?” He asks. “It’ll be fine,” You glance at him. He purses his lips, and you reach out, cupping his chin, then teasing your nails through the goatee there. “Come on, this isn’t my first field op.” “We won’t be in there with you,” Borracho reminds you, though he sounds like he’s much more hung up on that fact than you are. “I know, but you’ll be nearby,” You say, “And the second I confirm the painting is the one you guys have been looking for, you’ll grab the guy and we’ll be set.” Borracho doesn’t look so convinced, but you lean up and peck his lips and murmur, “Relax, Benny.” And you expect hoots and hollers to go up from the guys, but you hear nothing. They’re giving you two this moment. They know what today is; they know how worried Borracho is. And the guys can be dicks sometimes, but you love them. -- Your first anniversary should be sweet. It’s not. It’s kind of an ordeal. You wind up sitting on the back of an ambulance because a bullet grazed your right arm - not deep enough to do real damage or hit anything serious, but bad enough to need stitches. Borracho is leaning against the ambulance, jaw clenched as he stares down at your pointed-toe heels. You’ve tried to engage him, and you’ve tried to get him to look at you, but he just won’t. When you’re leaving, you expect him to bum a cigarette off of Connors, but he doesn’t. Instead you drive home in silence, his hand territorial on your thigh, like the art dealer is in the backseat, like the bullet is hovering near your shoulder, but neither will be able to touch you as long as he is. He waits until you two are in your apartment to draw you into his arms and hold you tight against his chest. You go willingly, and you cuddle against him and hide your wince in his neck as your arm twinges when you take hold of him in turn. Some part of you is tempted to joke, to murmur, “Happy anniversary?”, but you consider how mad you’d be if he did that to you just now, and instead you murmur, “It’s just a scratch.” And maybe that’s not the best thing to have said, either, because his grip tightens on you, and he mumbles, “Scratches don’t need stitches, sweetness.” -- That night, he’s gentle with you, the way you were with him the first time the two of you were together after he’d been shot. He takes his time undressing with you, pushes your hands away from your clothes when you reach to remove them yourself. When you tease and ask him if he wants you to keep the wig on, he shakes his head and covers your body with his, and he nuzzles against your jaw and murmurs, “You,” sweet and desperate, “I just want you.” -- It’s a hiccup. A bump in the road. A reminder that what you two do is dangerous, that anything can happen. Time passes. The wound heals. The worry comes back. -- You wake up with cramps one morning. You go into the bathroom - you confirm it is what you think it is. You tiptoe around your bedroom, pull on sweatpants and head into the kitchen to make coffee. It’s been a year and a half now, and you are worried. Borracho never did say that kids are a deal breaker, but what if they are? What if he’s changed his mind? What if you change your mind? Your vision is blurring with tears as you pour water into the coffeemaker. You can hear Borracho shuffling around in your bedroom, and you let yourself sniffle before you scrub at your eyes. You set your hands on the counter, taking a few steadying breaths as you hear Borracho come out of the bedroom. You hear him pause before he cuddles up behind you, his big, rough, warm hands settling comfortingly on your hips. He presses a kiss to the back of your head, then to the side, then brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. “What’s going on, sweetness?” He murmurs. You should’ve known better; the man knows you better than anyone, you can’t hide from him, not well. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to go this long without saying anything to him. You lean back against his chest and mumble, “I got my period.” It takes him a few moments, but he nods a little, turning and pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay.” “What if-- Benny what if I can’t-- And we can’t--...” Your eyes are welling up with tears again; your voice is wavering, and your throat feels tight with worry. He slides his arms around your waist, soothingly rocking the two of you side to side. “We’ll figure it out, sweetness,” He soothes, “We can talk to a doctor, we can look into adoption-- Anything you want.” “What’ll your family say?” “Hey,” Borracho turns you to face him. He lifts one hand to your chin and tips your head up to look at him. “This isn’t their marriage, this isn’t their decision. It’s ours. We make this choice, you and me.” He reaches up and smooths away a tear when it escapes you. “And if that choice is no kids, then that’s our choice, sweetness.” You can’t stop the tears now; you surge up and bury your face in Borracho’s shoulder and curl into him and mumble that you wanna marry him all over again. -- Your second anniversary is sting-operation and bullet-graze free. The traditional second anniversary gift is cotton. The box you give Borracho contains a cotton shirt that says ‘I’m Going to Be a Daddy!’, and your (cleaned) positive pregnancy test. (You’ve got a matching shirt that says ‘You Can Stop Asking When We’re Having a Baby Now’.)

[whumping-every-day]

I read your tags on the Whumper heats a handmade leather and barbed wire whip post where you mentioned Gabriel can't look at barbed wire now. I would die for a drabble about him seeing some while he's with Maria and Stefan

Hlkjhlkjh me too Nonnie! Me too. This got away from me. 

Gabriel Masterlist

-

The spool of metal is coiled in the corner like a poisonous snake. Gabriel’s chest is pounding like it is one, and the sweat prickling in his palms and at the back of his neck seem to agree. He can’t look away. 

The danger feels very real. It’s innocently sitting there, completely stationary, but somehow Gabriel’s body is convinced that it will spring up at him at any moment. 

There’s a burning sensation spreading across his back, and it’s not real, Gabriel thinks, it’s not real - 

But it doesn’t matter. 

He barely remembers his last encounter with barbed wire. But he remembers recovering well enough. 

The first days had been excruciating. He remembers days and nights spent awake, hot and feverish, kept from sleep by the constant, unrelenting agony. He remembers being unable to lie on his back, unable to even cover himself with the thin blanket, because the skin of his back had been flayed like raw meat. 

Master had left the whip there, lying in plan view, so Gabriel could see the tattered pieces of his own flesh clinging to the barbs. 

He remembers sobbing himself dry, staring at the walls of the basement while his mind spun and floated somewhere above his body. 

Gabriel is somewhere else when Maria pulls the door open. 

“Gabe? Sweety?” She steps onto the first stair, reaches a hand out, and Gabriel keens and flinches away from her like she’d come out carrying a whip. He hasn’t flinched away from her like this in months - Maria can only watch as he scrambles to the far side of the garage, keening and whimpering as he sinks into a puddle. 

He’s staring at something on the opposite shelf, and there’s so much on it that Maria can’t tell what. 

“Oh, bud…” The boy is shaking, and his eyes are glazed. Maria takes a careful step closer, then another. Gabriel moans in terror as her shadow falls over him, and she quickly falls into a crouch. “Hey… Gabriel, love, can you hear me?” 

The answer is, for all appearances, an empathetic no. 

The boy is rocking faintly, arms clenched tight around his middle, and for once his trembling is still. Instead he looks like he’s about to be sick; there is an ashen cast to his skin, and a fresh sheen of sweat. 

His lips are moving, and it takes Maria a moment to decipher what he’s whispering. 

“No, nonono, please, not that, not that, not again-” It’s nothing like his usual begging. This is monotone, nearly inaudible, like he knows it won’t work but he can’t help trying. There’s nothing behind Gabriel’s eyes this time, even as he pleads for mercy. 

Maria feels a well of tears rise to her own eyes, and she grits her teeth and pushes it down. She always feels helpless when this happens, every time that her poor sweet pet goes somewhere she can’t reach. 

“Gabriel? Please, baby,” she whispers as she settles in front of him. “Come back to me. Where did you go, sweet boy?” 

The sight of the coil of barbed wire is imprinted on the back of Gabriel’s eyelids. He’s seen it before, he knows what it means, but he’d tried so hard to be good, so hard… 

Something settles in his line of vision, and suddenly instead of his gaze locked dully on the barbed wire, it’s his Mistress in front of him. He takes a shuddering breath, and he hiccups and sobs on the next bout of begging. 

“P-please, please, not that,” he whimpers. “Please, please Mistress, I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I’ll, I’ll be better, I’ll do better-”

It’s like his mouth is running without him. Gabriel breaks down halfway through, and then he’s just crying, useless and weak and pathetic. Mistress cautiously lifts a hand, and Gabriel mewls in terror and flattens himself to the wall. 

“- efan? Stefan? Help me get him back into the house. There’s something in here, I think, he saw something, I don’t know what-” It’s all broken fragments to Gabriel. His vision starts to tunnel at some point, but he’s awake enough to feel himself being picked up. The arms are strong enough to lift him clear off the ground, and he sobs and twists in a panic. 

His vision whites out after that, and an indeterminate amount of time later, Gabriel finds himself blinking back to awareness on the couch. He’s inside, and dizzy, and extremely disoriented. 

“Gabe?” Gabriel scrambles upright in a whole-bodied flinch, and his Masters are waiting for him. He doesn’t remember how he got there, and that frightens him. 

“Wh-wha- where, nn-no, please-” he doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, and he’s so confused. He doesn’t know why he’s so afraid - doesn’t know why his heart is pounding like he’s just run a marathon. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, listen-” Mistress tries to get his attention, but her voice is too gentle, too soft. 

It’s only when Master curses and strides closer, grips him by the shoulders and shakes, that Gabriel feels properly awake. He’s gasping, and his hands are up halfway, like he’d gone to grab his Master’s wrists and thought better of it. 

“Shit, bud, you’ve got to listen to me,” Stefan says, and there’s fear in his voice. It’s shocking enough that Gabriel stops, and for a long moment the whole world hangs in stasis. Master’s hands dwarf his shoulders, and Gabriel feels so fragile underneath them, like he could shatter at the slightest squeeze. 

“I - I’m sorry-” It’s the only thing he can say, and Master releases his shoulders and sinks into a crouch beside the sofa.

“No, sweetheart, no,” he whispers. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You - you panicked, or had a flashback. You’re not in trouble, I promise you’re not.” 

It’s said with a hint of desperation, as if Master has tried to tell him that many times in the last few minutes. 

Gabriel sucks in a steadying breath and squeezes his eyes closed. This happens sometimes, he knows - sometimes he gets scared, and his Masters have to calm him down, and usually, there is nothing to be afraid of. They’ve never hurt him for panicking, never gone through with what he was so frightened of in the first place. 

“I’m nnn-not, not-” Gabriel has to stop, swallow, try again. “ ‘m n-not in t-trouble…?” It’s timid, and quiet, and he can’t meet their eyes. But they both murmur soft agreements, and as bewildered as he is, Gabriel thinks maybe he can believe them. 

“I don’t know what scared you, bud, but it’s not like that here,” his Mistress says softy. It sounds like a promise, and Gabriel’s fingers curl in his lap. He wishes that he could be certain.

He believes they won’t use the barbed wire, at least. 

Mostly. 

If he’s good. 

He’d have to be very, very bad, he thinks, for these two to hurt him like that. They’ve been so gentle with him, so kind - maybe they would even warn him beforehand, let him know when he’s done wrong and punish him some other way first. 

He thinks of Master’s belt, and the impact Mistress’s sharp heels, and he’s frightened and hopeful and grateful all at once. 

He can be good for them. Maybe even good enough to never see that corner of the garage ever again. 

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 59

There were three communities that didn’t need much rebuilding and one that needed extensive rehab. And I wasn’t very welcome in any of them. How would I know this? Because, ALL of the population of ALL three were at Hilltop in the beginning, at some point on another. And while Daryl had promised that I wouldn’t be subjected to the abuse of their collective feelings of disappointment and irritation with me, and I’m downplaying it trust me, he couldn’t be with me twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Not that he didn’t try his damnedest.

I spent my days getting used to my bow again. Soon, my Simon target was fully beheaded, and I had to grin as I made a new one. Sometimes I took Judith with me, sitting her on a blanket at my feet, telling her stories about Carl as I notched arrow after arrow and kept an eye on any danger that might try to sneak up on us, walker or human. She was walking now, and I would take her hand in mine, fold the blanket and sling my bow over my shoulder as we took our time getting back to the rest of the world.

She came with me to visit Negan on most days, even once he’d been removed to a more secure spot. I’d sit by him as she toddled around and I hoped he found some measure of peace from our time with him. On the visits that we were alone, he’d touch me more often. Taking my hand and kissing the knuckles, or leaning in to smell the side of my neck. I knew, once we returned to Alexandria, that he’d be the first real visitor to Morgan’s cell and he wouldn’t be able to get as close to me as he did in Hilltop, so I savored it as much as he did.

We knew it wouldn’t last. The quiet, the ease of our visits, but we also knew that we both found comfort in them. Negan’s lips brushing my neck, my fingers linked with his, such simple signs of affection, yet we knew what they brought to each of us. Pain. Whispered threats. And the dirty looks. When I was alone with him, I could care less about what was being said or who was shooting those damn looks my way. And then I’d leave, and the strength of his presence was gone, and I’d have to walk with my chin up and back straight as though I could give a shit.

I did though. It hurt me to know that people I barely knew thought so little of me. It hurt worse to know that the people who did know me, and quite well, seemed to share those same thoughts. Unlike my brush with falling apart from those days before meeting Negan, however, I didn’t fight feeling it. I was wide open and I owned my emotions. I cried when I felt like crying, and as Daryl and my family were learning quickly, when I was pissed they knew it now.

“Damn it, Dad,” I was glaring at him as we sat together discussing what came next. He wanted Daryl, and me clearly, to head to the Sanctuary and get it back on track. “You promised.” Not just visits with Negan, but damn it, I just got back to seeing Judith every damn day. “How the hell is this supposed to work? Plus, don’t you need all fucking hands on deck at Alexandria? You said that it was a mess that needed rebuilding.”

I knew that Daryl’s eyes were on me. I also knew that Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, Carol, and Ezekiel were watching me intently. Too fucking bad.

“Jessi,” Dad was using his patient parent voice and I nearly growled at him. “Honey, you know the place better than anyone here.” I shook my head. “You do, I can’t put one of the former Saviors in charge, not yet.”

“I barely left-” I stopped, feeling Daryl tense. Shit. “I wasn’t really given much free reign, Dad.” Not until I was ready to run away from him, I added in my head. I sighed. “I don’t know his people, I don’t know what they fucking did there.”

Daryl’s arms wrapped around me, trying to calm me down. “Jessi,” his face was practically buried in my hair. “We can go and get an idea of what needs done. We’ll visit Alexandria as much as ya want, I swear.” I wanted to fight free, but I knew that he was trying to compromise. Trying to make me see that fighting against it wouldn’t help my cause at all. And so I relaxed into his touch and sighed again.

“Fine.” I agreed, looking up at Dad with hard eyes. “What are we expected to do?”

What we were expected to do, I learned quickly, was determine who was trustworthy and how to tame those who would undoubtedly fight back. Daryl and I were supposed to take stock of the Sanctuary and learn not just what it used to be, but what it COULD become now. And so, with me at his side, dealing with the reports and people that Daryl didn’t have the patience to contend with, we started to reteach Negan’s people how things had to be from here on out.

Corn ethanol fuel, that was the plan for the Sanctuary. No one seemed to want to hear that we didn’t have nearly enough fertile ground for crops. And Eugene as a constant presence wasn’t exactly welcome for me either. Dad tried, during my trips to Alexandria, to remind me that Eugene was intelligent and he had helped win the war. Sure, thought, but you keep forgetting that I care for Negan and that smart asshole could have killed him with that backfiring gun. And, there was that memory of why I ran away from Negan, the fear that another Eugene would come and as his newest girl, I’d be expected to entertain him.

I helped where I could. Learning that the majority of Negan’s people were go with the flow types. They transferred their loyalty strangely easily, and I had to hold back an absolutely hysterical laugh when they tried to kneel for Daryl and then Dad. Once they were told those types of displays were no longer necessary, most of them fell in line quickly. There were hiccups. People not feeling safe when Daryl insisted the walker security line be killed for good. People fighting against the more open, no points, system of being fed and clothed. These were easily squashed, mostly. Daryl’s biggest issue was his discomfort in leading this way.

Nights were spent explaining that he had to understand it from their point of view. They’d been here, some of them at least from what they’d told me, for years. Negan had kept them safe. He’d given them jobs and security. Learning that he was gone AND that all the rules and ways they’d learned to live were different wasn’t an easy thing to get used to. Daryl would counter with the ones that had easily changed, and I’d point out that most were Negan’s true soldiers, the ones that were leaders because they could sense the change in tides. When you’re looking at grunts, or even the lower totem Saviors, you’re looking at people who want stability, change is hard.

I fell back into mediating easily. It was natural for me. As was hunting, which Daryl and I did regularly. Mostly for his sanity, because being trapped behind the walls of a huge brick building was never going to suit him easily. I rested easily in knowing that Daryl, and not me, would eventually be asking Dad for a reassignment. He hated it here as much as I did, even if I was growing used to navigating through the people’s issues and finding solutions to the rising problems.

So we’d hunt. Sometimes just to get away, and other times as we left to visit Alexandria. Daryl never let me go alone. I tried to tell myself it was because he wanted to check in with Dad. I tried to convince myself that he wanted to keep me safe, even if I was more than capable of it myself, or that he wanted to see the progress in rebuilding our former home. I even tried, as he and I sat with Judith and watched her paint and listened as she told ME a story, that he wanted to visit with her. But, I could feel his eyes on me as I walked to the cell that held Negan, and all those illusions I’d try to build in my mind for his presence here with me would fade and I knew. He was here to make sure I didn’t release him, that I didn’t stay behind with him, that Negan never got to know me as intimately as he already did again.

It took around eighteen months to rebuild and for us to all be back in the flow of things. The Sanctuary wasn’t in perfect order. Not even close, but it was better. As long as no one wanted to stay in any of the rooms that held the broken windows. Windows that were gone thanks to gunfire from a war that never had to be. The crops, still not nearly enough, were growing, but for how long? And the corn ethanol was being produced as it could be.

Alexandria was almost better than it had been. Wind mills, flowing water, and rebuilt homes along with crops of their own and a new hope filled the air. I didn’t check on Hilltop or the Kingdom personally, but regular reports and updates came in over the radios or in person. We were getting back to normal, or most of us were.

Daryl was chafing under the strain of leadership and having to walk the same path that Negan had walked. He begged me, more than once, not to remind him of whose apartment we lived in. Not to mention that I’d slept in the bed, that I’d made love in the bed, with anyone other than him. He chafed at the reminders of Negan, and I chafed at the absence of him. This wasn’t right. Not the building, not Daryl’s body on those sheets in this bed. Nothing was right, even if the flow of life continued, everything felt wrong.

[saieras]

Your headcanons gives me so much inspiration. Can you post a few about Astrid being pregnant? If possible

Thanks for the Ask! Now that I’m done with the next chapter, I can finally answer this question! Spoilers for my fic Once There Were Dragons~

Warning, this may be triggering for those who’ve experienced infertility, miscarriage, and/or stillbirth.

Okay, so Pregstrid… Let’s start with some fandom-favorites!

Hiccup is super smotheringly overprotective of her. This has got to be the first thing that comes to mind when you think pregstrid. He usually lets her be her own woman, and is confident and proud of her achievements, but let’s face it, he becomes a worried mess when she’s pregnant; whether it’s the first, second, or third time! Of course there is a reason as to why he’s like that, which leads to our next popular HC…

They had trouble conceiving. This is one that I’m personally behind, and I believe it runs in the family—Stoick and Valka probably not only had trouble conceiving, but also had trouble carrying the baby to term. Hiccup was born likely after at least a miscarriage or stillbirth (possible considering their age gap), and he was born early and sickly (this part is canon). Anyway, since I think Hiccstrid got married soon after HTTYD3 (at most half a year after dragons leave), this means they’re about 21 when they got married. Personally I HC Zephyr being born when they’re about 23/4; this means 2-3 years of trying before they got lucky with her. And, yeah, they’ve been going at it since maybe 17, but it’s not like the Norse didn’t have access to any forms of birth control…

Astrid is extra needy when pregnant (but only when in private). I know, a pretty common trope that the badass girl becomes needy and clingy behind the scenes, when she is safe and secure in her own home in bed, BUT consider their history, and their trying for so long. She is terrified that the pregnancy isn’t real, or might go wrong at any moment. She wants him there to share her burdens and her fears over it, because ultimately he’s the only one who understands what it’s like, since even to her friends infertility might be too intimate of a topic. Also, wild mood swings don’t help matters, so yeah. When they’re at home, she is just in need of everything! Constant kisses, hugs, cuddles, snacks, chats, quiet time, and fucks. Which brings me to another point…

When in public, she insists on doing her job without being babied. There is one person and one person only that she will accept babying from, and that is her husband. Everyone else, if you try to tell her she can’t do something because she’s pregnant? Reminder that you’re speaking to your Chieftess, and reminder that your Chieftess can still throw an axe better than you with a baby in her womb. That being said, Hiccup does lay down some basic ground rules. After all, he’s not going to be able to watch over her all hours of the day, and he knows nothing can really stop her from doing exactly what she wants anyway. At least a few agreed-upon ground rules (NO fighting in the Arena, for example) can make life easier and less stressful for the poor Chief.

Now onward to some less popular HCs.

They stopped trying, for a few years, after Nuffink. Mainly because Astrid almost died after giving birth, and Hiccup is rightly terrified of that experience, or a possible repeat, and probably took months to get over that PTSD. So they begin to use birth control again, at his insistence. This probably lasted for at least 3 or 4 years, maybe more.

They had disagreements about having more children. As the kids grow, Astrid starts to want more kids. It’s not uncommon for Norse households to be very large, and women usually don’t stop having children until menopause. Both of them love kids, but she has to convince him it’s a risk worth taking.

They had some miscarraiges after Nuffink. Maybe it’s from the lasting damage back from during his birth. Maybe it’s because she’s been on birth control for so long. In any case, once they decided to start trying for children, her pregnancies refused to take hold. She had maybe 2 miscarriages in the years after, before she stopped getting pregnant altogether. Slowly they reconciled themselves to the fact that she may not be able to have children anymore, while dealing with their shared grief over the loss of their unborn children. This is an intensely private part of their lives, though, so I don’t see them sharing with anyone, not even the other Riders or Valka.

The third kid was a surprise. Like I said, they’ve already made peace with the fact that they’re probably not going to get a third child, and they’ve gone 3 years with no birth control at that point without Astrid getting pregnant. When she found that her period has stopped, she initially thought she’d hit menopause very early. Later on, when it became clear that she was pregnant instead, she was shocked and terrified that Fate was about to throw her yet another time under the bus. She didn’t want to deal with another miscarriage. But then the baby seemed to take hold, and grow stronger day by day, and by the second trimester they allowed themselves to hope.

This time around, Astrid is more careful with herself than Hiccup is with her. It’s a cautious attitude that’s informed and built up over their past experiences, and she does everything in her power to make sure her child will make it through this time. The couple also begin preparations for seeing the pregnancy through safely to the end, for both mother and child. Hiccup starts gathering recipes and treatments for childbirth-related complications such as fever, and sends Snotlout and Gothi’s apprentice on errands to learn from the Archipelago’s best midwives. They both do everything within their power to ensure both parties come out of the ordeal safe and sound. 

The couple, in their own way, prepare themselves for the possibility that Astrid may be in grave danger during childbirth. Hiccup has made her a promise that, no matter what happens, he will keep on living, and watch their children grow up. They do a good job keeping this information from their kids, but Valka doesn’t think this is a good idea. Nonetheless, they are seen to be even more sappy and spending more time (as much as their busy schedules allow) with each other during the pregnancy, which is their way of appreciating each other and creating precious memories to help Hiccup cope, if Astrid doesn’t make it.

[ythmir-writes]

I really enjoy reading your works! May I ask Ikesen Kenshin & silver for your 182 series?

hello dear! thank you thank you thank you so much for ALL your support (you know what im talking about! and you spoil me srsly (♡´艸`))  your tag dumps and your presence helps keep me going! thank you! so here it is! im not sure if it will live up to your favorite one out of all that i’ve written so far but ahhhhhh i hope you won’t hate me for this because i’m gonna go ahead and say this one is painful ｡(＿　＿｡)＝3

SILVER

fandom: Ikemen Sengokucharacter: Kenshin Uesugi

warnings for pain; 2999 words

Kenshin Uesugi had always expected she would leave. Eventually.

He knew it was inevitable. He knew that taking the Azuchi princess as hostage was only for a limited amount of time; that her presence was a guaranteed constant but only for so long as there was conflict between him and the Oda. With the conflict gone and all their treatises signed, there was no reason for him to keep her. No real convincing reason for her to consider an extended and indefinite stay.

So Kenshin was at a loss as to why he felt so vexed when the claim for the Azuchi Princess’ return finally started.

The formalities of the Claim were initiated by one Mitsunari Ishida – a general no less – who came into Kasugayama castle bearing gifts and the inevitable news that sadly (Kenshin had rolled his eyes at that) the Azuchi Princess must be returned.

As if to purposely aggravate Kenshin further, Mitsunari had even gone beyond and above his duty, and had presented a detailed and outlined plan of their travels, with the expected time of departure and arrival back at the Oda’s main residence.

“Her powers need to be renewed.” Mitsunari had droned on, continuing to explain the obvious. “Any extension and she would be most inconvenienced. Perhaps, mortally in danger even.”

“Watch your words, Mitsunari Ishida.” Kenshin had heard his voice before commonsense could stop him. He had sounded angry, offended. Some might have even said, a tad possessive. “Do you insinuate we have not taken care of your princess?”

Mitsunari had looked non-plussed, maybe truly apologetic. “My apologies, Lord Uesugi. I meant no offense. Only that we both know the precarious situation she is in for being too far gone from her source of power.”

Kenshin had had no answer to that.

Calculated. Meticulous. Damnably precise. Mitsunari’s answers and back-up plans had been made so that no circumstance were left unaddressed, no other endgame targeted other than the homecoming in three days time. It was plainly obvious that there was no room which Kenshin could use to argue or haggle and by the end of it, he had been left near boiling mad at how even during peaceful times, Nobunaga took advantageous measures rather than diplomatic ones.

Then again, Kenshin should have been distant; thoughts of haggling for an extended stay should never have crossed his mind. He should be impartial and uninterested. Had he not already expected her unavoidable return to the Oda? Had he not spent three years of his life bracing himself for that fact?

So why did his jaw feel tense? Why did he feel like a snake coiled taut and ready to strike? Kenshin had gnashed his teeth and had impatiently tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword all the while, pretending he could get up and swing his sword to make a point. No one questioned the god of war.

But, no. Those were not the gestures and thoughts of an uninterested captor, and definitely not the emotions of a person who knew from the very beginning this day would come.

“You said you expected this.” Shingen Takeda had leaned towards him from his shared spot in the dais as soon as Mitsunari had left the main hall. “You said you wouldn’t care.”

“I don’t.” Kenshin had snapped back while suppressing his horror that much of his true mood had managed to show. “I’m annoyed because of the provided logistics. I expected Uesugi cavalry to escort her. I prepared. And now that’s all to waste.”

Shingen’s brows rose at this, as if he had picked up something Kenshin had not even said and it had only made Kenshin’s mood dip for the worst.

“Nobunaga leaves nothing to chance.” Shingen had leaned back, waved a hand towards the gifts left behind: favorite things, precious treasures, handpicked from lands only the Oda had reach. Too generous compensation for the task of keeping a goddess and his princess safe. “You should know better than that.”

“No. He does not. And yes, I should have.” Kenshin had nothing else he could afford to say.

In the afternoon, the rest of the Oda party had arrived: two dozen armed escorts, five Oda special infantrymen, two pairs of armoured scouts, and a full rear guard.

Mitsunari Ishida had beamed at them with pride, the shadow of a boy slipping from his battle-hardened facade. He had watched with keen interest as the soldiers went into formation, pledged their allegiance to the Princess and to the Oda, before performing a salute to Uesugi’s generosity.

“Well performed.” Shingen had commented. “And excellent footwork, if I may add.”

“Thank you, Lord Shingen.” Mitsunari had been all smiles. “I have taken your advice to heart. Your compliments mean a lot to me.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen soldiers so eager to fall in line.” Yukimura Sanada, Shingen’s second, had added.

Mitsunari had waved a hand at his soldiers. “Nothing but the best for this mission. Nothing less should be spared for the Azuchi Princess’ trip back home.”

Home.

Kenshin had ground his teeth again, realizing the group was Mitsunari’s handpicked guard. It was almost as if it was not Nobunaga Oda who was claiming the Princess back but this damnable, smiling, scheming, cunning little –

It took every ounce of self-control, and a well-timed whisper from his most trusted ninja, for Kenshin to loosen his white-knuckled grip on his sword. Whether it was sheer anger or spite that carried him through the rest of the ceremonies, he did not know. Only that as the rest of rules of tradition were fulfilled, Kenshin had retreated to his thoughts.

But then again, what thoughts?

Too long he had repeated to himself this: Precisely because he knew there would never be a compelling reason for her to stay behind in Kasugayama, so too he had no compelling reason to go ahead and put a name on anything he felt where it concerns the Princess – other than “inconveniences”, “distractions”, little “hiccups that made his mind wander when he should be thinking of war”. Everything he had had with her, all the moments spent in her company he had long convincedhimself were but temporary.

Why try to decipher any of the uncomfortable sensations he felt if he knew in the end there was nothing to come of it?

Just like wildflowers, he reasoned to himself; those had no proper names, no real identities, just whispers. They were beautiful and wonderful and terribly fleeting. They come in spring to die inwinter only to then bloom again. A breath taken then gone.

What was the use of naming and holding on to something so obviously transient?

So in all honesty, Kenshin Uesugi had never truly considered the depth of the emotions he truly harbored for the princess.

And now, he was escorting her to her palanquin.Nowthe inevitability was coming to pass.Now he felt upset and vexed beyond comprehension at the thought of the princess being taken away. Wildflowers plucked before they could fully bloom. Too soon, too soon.

The idea made him sick, made him angry, made him feel so unpleasantly vulnerable. Made him feel a deep sense of lamentation at what hehad lost, what he was losing – what he had so long been too cowardly to grasp.

But he should not be so selfish.

She needed to go back, Kenshin reasoned to himself. She needed to go back to her lands and to her magic. She needed to be returned so she could live, so she could flourish, so she could regain her power to serve her people and see better days.

That he needed her to stay, that he wanted her to stay, was something best kept to himself.

She was just a hostage. She was just another tool used in the war.

That she had been so warm. That she had been so bright. That she had been able to pull him when other would simply let go. That she had been stubborn when others would simply be compliant. That she had been the cause of most of his laughter. That she had been so strong, and honest, and courageous and valiant and taught him so many other things when he had thought of her as next to nothing.

That was no one’s fault but his.

“Thank you for your kindness all this while.” The Princess bowed low, at the waist just like he had taught her, then straightened back up like an arrow, taut. She was dressed as he had first seen her, in a pauper’s travelling clothes with a short sword strapped at the waist. None of Echigo’s riches were decorating her now. None of their gifts dangling from her ears or wrapping around her wrists. All traces of him gone. Not even the hairpin he had given her.

And at the thought, Kenshin’s heart sank even further.

“You take care, all right.” Shingen had taken Kenshin’s silence as an opportunity to say his own goodbyes. “Your party is more than enough to keep you safe but well, nothing wrong with blessings to leave you by.”

“I’m grateful for them.” She answered, smiling up at him, as if Shingen had not been the principle moving force behind her capture.

“You be sure to keep a healthy diet too.” Yukimura had decided to cut in as well. “No more just sake and sour plums.” He shot a look at Kenshin.

Kenshin ignored the look.

The Princess laughed. “I liked them a lot. I still do.”

“I’ll be sure to visit.” Sasuke Sarutobi said now, materializing from whatever shadow he had just been in. No doubt he had scouted as far ahead as possible to make sure their path was clear. “With the new peace treaties between Oda and Uesugi-Takeda, there’s no reason for me to be covert about it either.”

“We could have snacks at that candy store again.” She clapped her hands. “Remember that dango?”

“If there’s sweets involved, then I’m going too.” Shingen invited himself. “Yuki?”

Yukimura groaned. “Fine. Because someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

They laughed. Kenshin wanted to join in on their merriment, be part of their group as he had always been. He wanted at the very least for their last memory to not be a burden for her to carry. But he could not find any joy in what was happening, even if it was the promise of happier and peaceful days spent under a brighter silver moon.

“Kenshin?”

Her voice pulled at him like the moon to waves and Kenshin looked at her looking at him, a little bit worried, a little bit something else behind her silver eyes.

Kenshin’s throat tightened with emotion and need to lock her up again, refuse any help, destroy all evidence of good will and make war once again just so he could have the semblance of an excuse for her to –

“I want you to stay,” he began, his voice wrung with emotions. First, relief, at the realization of what exactly he was feeling. Second, and more so, that particular emotion that gutted his innards and twisted them.

Grief. He was grieving this end. Inevitable. Unavoidable. Inconceivably painful. He did not want this. He did not want to partake in any of this.

He should have known from the very start that wildflower roots run deep. And once they had taken to the land, they knew no other.

But she needed to go back, he reminded himself again. She needed to go back so she could live. He needed to let her go before she died in her cage like how –

“I want you to stay.” Kenshin repeated, the pain in his chest making him throw away all sense of self-preservation that had kept him alive in the battlefield. “But I know you have to go back. I do not want this but it needs to be done.”

“Is that for me or for you?” She asked gently, taking his hand.

Kenshin opened his mouth, closed it. Took a lifetime to respond. “I don’t know.” He finally said, his voice barely a whisper.

Somewhere during the time it was taking him too long to answer, everyone else seemed to have suddenly given them space. They were conversing as if in private now, Mitsunari Ishida (the damnable smile still in place) had even turned away and left them in peace.

“You avoided me the past few days.” She said. “You never came to visit me in my room.”

“You were saving stamina for the trip. I didn’t want to be a burden.” Kenshin answered.

“I see.” Her tone told Kenshin she did not believe him. He did not expect her to. He had spent the past few days hovering in front of her room, passing it by, taking a longer route just so he could spare it a glance. But never truly asked if he could come in.

He did not want to see her room being emptied, did not want to see the trunks being loaded with everything she owned, did not want to strike up a conversation about how he felt about this.

How she felt about it all.

“And yet here you are saying you want me to stay.”

Kenshin swallowed before answering. “I do.”

Her lips tugged upward at some memory. “Sasuke told me you were near ballistic during the turnover. Said something about an offense…?” She prompted.

“There was insinuation against my honor.” Kenshin remembered and felt angry again. “That I might not have taken care of you.”

She giggled and Kenshin wanted to bottle up the sound for him to keep. “That’s not what Mitsunari said.”

Kenshin clicked his tongue. “That’s what I heard.”

“The reason I was waiting because I have something to give you.” She let go of his hand to produce something from her sleeve. It wasa small charm sewn in bright blue and silver fabric, Uesugi colors, with a bright red thread forming the shape of a bird.

Kenshin recognized it instantly but had barely formed the words of protest on his lips when the Princess had already placed it in his hands, closed his palms over it.

“A goddess’ hair is a powerful thing.” Kenshin said, thoughts reflexively going to tactics, to war. “Do you even understand – ?”

“That is not its only purpose.” She kept her eyes trained on their hands clasped together. “It means something else.”

Kenshin pressed his mouth into a thin line, wondered if it was safe to let loose what he had kept so long inside him. Wondered if she would drown. If both of them would.

“I return you to the Oda as the day I found you.” Kenshin said instead and he did his best to ignore the way her shoulders stiffened at him hastening their parting. “Not a hair on your head harmed. Not a sliver of skin taken which was not freely given. Not your power or your soul fragmented. I return you as I found you.”

“All good will, prosperity, and blessings be upon you, Lord Kenshin Uesugi.” She chanted the proper words back. “For you have returned me as you have found me and have not harmed me or done me ill will. I am going back whole, safe. Unharmed. Tended to with the best you have to offer. Loved.” She looked at him and her eyes shone. “Loved in the way you knew how.”

Kenshin swallowed a wail and wondered with the way her shoulders were quivering, if she hated him too.

Hated him for not speaking his mind until the very end. Hated him for not doing something to prevent this. Hated him for not parting with a better memory to reminisce. Not with a banquet. Not with a promise for the future. Not even one last night to drink under the stars from which she was named after. Hated him for keeping it all inside because he was nothing but afraid.

She did not need to. He hated himself enough for both of them.

“You haven’t failed, Kenshin Uesugi.” She smiled at him now, that same patient smile she always wore when he was being difficult. “You haven’t let me die the same way as Isehime. You haven’t let anyone die in vain, if at all. I just wish you’d see that too.” Then without giving him time to say anything else, she turned away.

Kenshin did not chase her. Had Kenshin been a little less stronger, he would have dropped on his knees and begged her all over again to stay. But he was not and he did not.

It took all his strength to stay and watch her palanquin until it disappeared into the horizon. All the while Kenshin gripped the charm like it was a lifeline. Part of him wanted to ride his mare and bring her back. Part of him was relieved that finally, she could grow strong again and live life better again.

But all of him, every single fiber of his being, missed her, craved her being with him. And not for the last time did he wish he was a god of something else – anything else – that could keep her safe. Could keep her safe.

It was past midnight by the time Kenshin could be ushered by Sasuke to go back into the castle. Kenshin was not sure. Time was suddenly hazy, a concept foreign to him. It was only time he had spent with her, and the time he was now spending without her.

Kenshin Uesugi raised his eyes towards the sky, his eyes searching for the stars she had so often pointed out as her favorites. But no matter how long he stared or how much his tears tried to rinse him of all his sorrow, he could not see them. None of them were there tonight.

And neither was she. Not anymore.

25/182

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Seventy-Eight: It Was Pink ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi, Umino Iruka ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

She took it with her everywhere. The grocery store with her mother, the park, her occasional doctor visits, relatives’ houses...everywhere. Whenever Hinata Hyūga went, her little bunny plush went with her. It was pink, and unbelievably soft, with long floppy ears, and a heart-shaped nose. Big brown eyes seemed to stare right through a person as she’d cling it to her chest like a life preserver. It was her comfort, her best friend, her safety blanket. A first gift from mother to daughter upon their arrival home from the hospital. From the moment her tiny fingers could grip its soft plush form, they rarely let go. Sitting at the table, riding in the car, waiting in line: her constant companion.

And after her mother passed bringing her little sister into the world...it became one of the few shreds left Hinata had of the first person who loved her. Hanabi, that sister, was given a similar gift: a blue elephant...but it never seemed to carry the same weight.

Hinata’s emotional attachment to the toy was unfathomable. Any time it was out of sight, or thought to be lost, she was inconsolable. Her only relief would be its safe return. She slept with it, played with it, ate with it. No matter the task at hand, it had to be there, too.

And then came school.

Hiashi tried to pry it from her. Keep it home. It might get lost, he told her. It might get stolen. Dirty. Torn. But all in all, she didn’t care. Nothing was enough of a deterrent to make her consider leaving the bunny behind. The only compromise her father could eek out of her was to write, with a permanent marker, on the bottom of the plush:

Property of Hinata Hyūga. Along with their address, and their phone number.

Hopefully, that way, it would never get lost...at least, not forever.

So, come the first day of school, Hinata had her backpack, and with its head sticking out the top (so it could breathe, she reasoned) was the plush. Hiashi, taking her in to ensure she settled comfortably, looked almost embarrassed to be seen with a daughter acting so infantile. 

All the other first years were milling about, almost all with accompanying parents, some with elder siblings. Looking around in wonder, Hinata barely resisted the urge to fetch her bunny from her bag and hold it tight. After all, she had to spare a hand to hold her father’s. And she tried to never hold her precious bun with less than two hands. Not after so many times dropping it.

Her new teacher was a young, nervous-looking man. Iruka Umino, as he introduced himself to Hiashi. The pair spoke for a time before attention turned to Hinata.

Knees bending to her level, he gave her a wide smile. “Hello, Hinata! I’ll be your new teacher. It’s very nice to meet you!”

Her chin ducked to her chest shyly. “H...hello.”

“She’s rather wary of strangers,” her father warned.

“Oh, that’s fine - every child should be, really. Strangers can mean danger. But I’m sure we’ll get along soon, once we get to know each other.” A hand gently rested atop her head, stroking her hair.

It warmed something in her chest.

“Now, I should warn you…” Hiashi then went on, tone quieting as to avoid being overhead, and embarrassed. “She has a toy that she’s...very fond of. She insisted she bring it to class. I hope it won’t be a distraction…?”

“Oh, not at all! A lot of kids bring familiar things with them to their first class. And to the contrary, it usually helps them focus by keeping them calm! We’ll be sure to keep an eye on it, so it doesn’t get taken by any other kids.”

Not looking wholly convinced, Hiashi simply nodded. Clearly his distaste for the crutch remained.

As the morning aged and the first bell rang, he left her in Iruka’s care to head into work. The rest of his class gathered, Iruka ferried them all into their classroom, giving introductions and starting them on their education. Hinata was settled into her own little desk, plush held to her chest. Given their age and the new environment, the first day was kept relatively tame, and soon, it was time for their first recess.

The play yard was massive: several acres watched over by the teachers as their classes were given time to roam, run, and play. Shy as ever, Hinata mostly lingered by the building, watching the other kids and keeping ahold of her toy.

But after a few minutes, she heard something...strange. Glancing about in search of its source, she eventually parted her way through some bushes in an inlet of the school’s outer walls.

There, tucked away and...crying? was a boy her age: knees hugged to his chest and face hidden atop their caps.

“Um...h-hello…?”

Startling, his head snapped up, tear-stained face looking to her in surprise before dashing at his cheeks with a hand. “W...what do you want?”

“I heard you, and...went to find you. Um...are you - are you okay?”

Expression wilting, he refused to look at her. “...I’m fine.”

“Then...w-why are you crying?”

“...my dad didn’t let me take Mister Roary to school today…”

“Mister...Roary…?”

“My dinosaur. I wanted to take him with me. But Dad said no, and when I - w-when I cried, he…” The boy’s lip trembled. “...he t-threw him away…! Said that t-toys are for babies, and…” Words dissolved into crying, and Hinata wilted in sympathy. His toy was thrown away…? What an evil, evil thing to do! While Hiashi has bemoaned her attachment before, he’s never threatened to take her plush away.

“...I’m sorry…” Getting a bit closer, she crouched, still holding her bunny. Glancing down to it, Hinata thought for a long moment...and then held it out. “...here.”

Sniffling, the boy looked up, still hiccuping before looking to her offering. “W...what…?”

“This is my bunny. She keeps me company. My mama gave it to me a long time ago, when I was a baby. But I think - I think she should go with you.”

Awe slacked the boy’s face. “You’re...giving her to me…?”

Hinata gave a nod. “She’s my best friend. But nobody should be alone. She can go with you, now.”

Still shocked, it took him a moment, but after a pause, he carefully accepted the plush. Dark eyes looking it over, he then brought it to his chest, curling around it tightly.

“...thank you...does she have a name…?”

“I just call her Bunny, but you can call her whatever you w-want. She’s your friend now, okay? Don’t let your daddy see her, though!”

“I won’t.” Nuzzling his cheek against the soft material, he then asked, “What’s your name?”

“Hinata. What - what’s your name?”

“Sasuke.”

“Hi, Sasuke.”

“...can we be friends?”

That got her to brighten. “Y...yeah! Bunny is my friend, and your friend...so we’re friends, too!”

A tentative smile pulled at his face. “...okay.”

And so it was.

Awaiting her father’s arrival after school, Hinata waved as Sasuke walked with his brother, gushing about his new toy, and his new friend.

Of course, the first thing Hiashi noticed was the plush’s absence. “Hinata, where is Bunny?”

“She went with a friend!”

He stared, jaw nearly agape. “You...you gave her to someone else?”

A nod. “...he needed her more than me.”

After a moment, a kind of understanding softened his form. “...well, maybe you’ll see her again someday.”

“...maybe.”

Fate, however, had other ideas.

After two years of school together...Hinata found Sasuke missing from the classroom at the beginning of their third year. After several days of worrying, the rumors made their way to her.

Sasuke and Itachi’s mother had divorced their father, and taken them to another city where her sister and her son lived. Sasuke was now attending another school, in another town.

The news, admittedly, saddened her greatly. The pair had become good friends over their two years of school together. But Mikoto had decided that Fugaku’s hard methods of parenting were...unsuitable for her children.

It had all began with him throwing the boys’ toys away.

But he never did find Bunny.

And that, at least, Hinata took comfort in: knowing Sasuke had a friend to take with him. That, in some small way, part of her, too, went with him.

...she hoped Hiashi was right: that she would see Bunny again. Because now, that meant seeing Sasuke, too.

The rest of primary and middle school passed quickly, each year seemingly shorter than the last. And now, secondary school is already half over, Hinata contemplating where her life will lead once it’s all said and done.

And even after so many years, she still wonders how Bunny and Sasuke are doing.

Arranging her locker on the first day of her penultimate year, she glances over as whispers reach her. Girls flock together, all staring at something - someone? - down the hallway. Trying to glance between them, Hinata’s eyes squint through the masses.

...and then she sees him. There’s no mistaking that unruly hair.

Bag hanging at his side as he scopes out his locker, Sasuke glances between numbered plates and a folded paper in his hand. The gaggle of girls move to the other wall as he gets closer, allowing him passage through the corridor.

Hinata, still surprised, just...stands there.

Glancing to the remaining obstacle as he keeps up his search, Sasuke meets her eyes.

...they stare.

Recognition slowly brightens his gaze. “...Hinata…?”

“...Sasuke.”

Searching her face for a long moment, he then seems to startle. “...hold on.” Tucking his guide between his teeth, he unzips his bag, digging around before pulling something from its depths.

It...it’s Bunny.

Staring at the plush - which hardly seems a day worse for wear - Hinata eventually drags her eyes up to his face. “...you...you still…?”

“I think it’s about time she went home...don’t you think?”

Blinking slowly, Hinata gazes at the plush, softening...and taking it into her arms. Funny...it seems so much smaller now as she gives it a welcoming squeeze. Smiling warmly, eyes closed, she then looks up, lips still lifted. “...it’s good to see you both.”

“Yeah...you too.”

                                                            .oOo.

     Oh my goshhh, this is so cute xD I had so much fun writing it! A nice change after feeling so blegh about yesterday's, lol      I do love me some childhood!SasuHina. They're both just such adorable babbs. Them being friends as kiddos is just...music to my ears. I love it! And them carrying that as they get older, letting it develop into romantic attachment? *chef finger kiss* Perfect xD I super enjoyed writing this piece, indulging in my favorite tropes, lol      Anyway, I gotta call it a night cuz...it's late, as usual xD But! I hope you enjoyed, and thanks so much for reading!

[asian-hero]

hey its the prev anon (the tumblr eating asks one) yeah thats not mine, can i get a shiro x fem reader with prompt 67? Thank u !! Sorry if it seems like im pressuring u ^w^

this sounds more gender neutral i hope you don’t mind

#67: When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More

send me a kiss prompt! (vld, tdp, ml, dbh (i’m begging you, send me connor kiss prompt pls))

Your friendship with Shiro was always sort of rocky. It wasn’t that you two hated each other, it was more of a double sided love-hate relationship. You were constantly angry and worried about all of the stunts that Shiro pulled and he was annoyed with how you were always watching him. Ever since you two were little, you’d always hurl insults at each other, trying to see who could say the most vile thing to the other. This occurred so often that your parents, teachers, and other classmates thought you actually hated each other. Of course, this wasn’t the case, and if either of you said something that crossed the line then you’d apologize, because deep down, really deep down, you cared for each other. 

That’s why you found yourself in the med bay of the Garrison, waiting right outside of the surgery room that currently held Shiro in it. He had been reckless. The Atlas was losing power and the paladins of Voltron were in a tight spot, not being able to fend off the Galra by themselves. So Shiro, ever the self-sacrificing hero, decided to take one of the MFE fighter pilots and rushed right into the fight. He managed to help take down two of the Galra’s ships, but he was shot down by the cruiser, crashing down right in front of the Garrison. 

You remember rushing alongside the medics to the emergency room. Seeing Shiro with blood pouring out of his head, bruises and burns littering his exposed skin, will forever haunt you. Seeing his face contort into one of pain while trying to talk, blood trickling out his mouth as well, is etched into your memory. The feeling of his blood seeping onto your skin and clothes, the warmth that it provided, had now been burned into your flesh, and you couldn’t wash the feeling away, no matter how hard you tried. You know that you’ll never forget when he looked at you, even though he’d been through hell and he was a certified mess, he smiled at you. A peaceful smile, full of warmth and love that, once he slipped into unconsciousness, still rested on his face. That one damn smile was the sole reason of the blood curdling scream that tore itself from your lips. 

Looking down at your arms, you took in a deep breath. Although you’d scrubbed away at the blood on your skin and burned the clothes tainted with his blood, you could still feel it linger. It felt like a constant reminder that you failed him somehow. No matter how much your brain tried to convince you that his injuries weren’t your fault, that you aren’t even a soldier, you couldn’t help but think that you could’ve prevented this. Maybe, if you had joined him in the fighter pilot division instead of the medic division when you were younger. If you had been trained to fight in this type of combat, then maybe this could’ve been you, and not him. 

The quiet “swish” of the door opening and closing caught your attention. Glancing up, you noticed one of the operating doctors standing next to you. Springing up to your feet, you looked at her curiously.

“How is he?” You croaked out, your voice damaged by your screams earlier in the day.

The doctor smiled at you, activating the door to open it. “He’s no longer in critical condition, but he’s still unconscious. You can see him, if you’d like.”

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice to speak any longer. Stepping inside of the room, you were quick to sit down in the seat next to Shiro. Seeing the rise and fall of his chest, a quiet snore coming from him, made you sigh in relief. Brushing his bangs away from his face, you smiled, gently caressing his face in the process. Looking over your shoulder, you smiled faintly at the doctor.

“Is it okay if I stay here?”

She smiled, nodding her head as she exited the room, leaving you to slowly fall into a light slumber. 

———

The sound of sheets rustling is what woke you up. Opening your eyes groggily, you noticed that Shiro’s eyes were finally open. Snapping up, you analyzed his face, making sure that he wasn’t in immense pain. He seemed to know what you were doing, as he turned his face away from you.

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m fine,”

You huffed out in annoyance. “You know, for once in your life can you just shut up and let me worry about you?”

When he didn’t respond, you sighed. Grabbing his face gently, you forced him to look at you. Leaning in, you examined his face once more, making sure that there were no cuts or bruises in more important places. After a few seconds had passed, you slumped back in your chair, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“Do you know how stupid you are?”

Shiro blinked, clearly not expecting that from you. “Wow, I just woke up less than five minutes ago and that’s what you want to say to me?”

You crossed your arms, sending a harsh glare at him. “Look at yourself! Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

Shiro sat up slightly, wincing at the pain that shot up his side. “I did what was necessary for the team’s success,”

You could practically feel the steam rolling off of you because you were so angry. Your hands balled into fists, your blunt nails indenting the skin of your palms.

“What if you died? You do know that you’re not immortal, right? I don’t care if you thought that you were ‘helping’ the team, your life is just as important as their’s!”

“They’re our only chance to defeat the Galra! I’m not going to sit by and do nothing if I can help!” Shiro yelled, not looking at you.

You felt your tears streaming down your face freely now. “There are other ways you can help! You don’t have to continuously put yourself in harms way!”

You couldn’t help the sob that ripped through you. All you could think about was how lifeless Shiro looked, how terrified you were when you tried to help him up on the stretcher. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm down your sobs as you spoke:

“Did you even think about the consequences that would happen if you did die? What would the Garrison do? What would the paladins do?” You took a second as hiccups began to arise, “What would I do?”

Shiro snapped his head towards you, his eyes softening at the sight. He scooted over on the hospital bed, patting a spot for you to sit. You obliged, slowly moving over towards him, rubbing at your eyes in the process.

He gently took your hands away from your eyes, resting his forehead on yours. You looked at him, your face heating when you realized how close he was. 

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” He whispered, not wanting to break the peace you two had.

You smiled, shaking you head slightly, causing your foreheads to bump. “I know you are. I also know that after this you’ll still put yourself in danger, so, just, please be careful. For me.”

He stroked your cheek, silently making a promise to you. Leaning in ever so slightly, Shiro slowly moved until his lips were on top of yours. 

His lips were rough and chapped, partially due to the cold hospital air. You gripped his shoulders, making sure to not damage him even more so. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up onto his lap, deepening the kiss. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth and he groaned, before pulling away slightly, looking at you with concern.

“I’m sorry, are you sure you—“

Instead of answering him in words, you pressed your lips back on his, your nose bumping into his cheek slightly. His hands were immediately on you again, gripping your waist tighter. His tongue pressed against your lips, silently begging for entry. You allowed him to, tasting your shared breath. 

You absolutely could’ve done this for an eternity, if it weren’t for the “swish” of the door and a round of horrified gasps. Jumping off of Shiro, you turned around, groaning when you saw who were the intruders.

Standing in the doorway were the paladins, with Lance and Hunk staring at the two of you in shock, Allura covering her and Pidge’s eyes, and Keith, leaning against the door with a bored look on his face. Shiro cupped the back of your head, hiding you in his chest. He narrowed his eyes at them.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“Haven’t you heard of bed rest?” Keith countered, a smirk on his face.

You groaned, pushing yourself further into Shiro’s chest. He laughed at your antics, pressing his lips to your hairline. Looking up at him, you smiled.

You were thankful for him being alive.

[injusticeff]

Chapter Twenty-Five

Simone

My mind just couldn’t keep still as I sped to the hospital with determination. It’s funny because I seemed to be in and out of the hospital a lot more lately.

I had just gotten back from my interview and was hired on the spot since they desperately needed more workers. Before the interview, I had turned off my phone and once I turned it back on, I received the voicemail message from the hospital informing me that Xae was in the hospital finally stable after being in critical condition all night long. My name was the first thing he said when he came to and he wouldn't answer any questions until they called me and told me what happened.

I immediately dropped anything and everything that I was doing and began to rush to the hospital, hoping and praying that he was okay although, the doctors had already told me that his condition was stable. It was nerve wracking to say the least; the day I left is the day he suddenly gets hurt? It couldn't be a coincidence.

Swiftly pulling into the first empty parking space I could find, I cut off the engine and hopped out of the car, practically power walking through the automatic front doors of the large hospital building. Since I had been here so often, the maze of hallways were practically etched into the back of my head as I made my way to the E.R. section of the establishment.

Once there, I rushed over to one of the receptionists desks out of breath and frantic, my heart pounding so hard in my chest that I could hear it clear as day. "Xavier Mitchell. Where is he? What room is he in?" I let out all in one breath causing the woman at the front to instantly begin typing loudly on her keyboard.

It was the same lady who I had somewhat told off for being unprofessional when I was visiting Ajanae in the hospital except this time, she didn't say anything other than the designated room number. "719."

I hadn't even waited for her to finish before I was doing the best jog that I could do, without having someone saying something to me about running, over to the elevator. Things just weren't moving fast enough as the elevator slowly made its way up to the seventh floor and stopped there with me having to push through a crowd of people who were attempting to get on that same elevator.

Once I was in front of his room door, I let out a small sigh and reluctantly twisted the door knob until it was able to be pushed open. My eyes immediately watered at the sight of a battered and bruised Xae, who sat up in his hospital bed connected to various wires and machines. His face was swollen and there was a large gash on his lip from it most likely being busted open.

As I stepped further in the room, I noticed the eye that wasn't too swollen to see out of turn its attention towards me as I stood there with tears unwillingly falling down my face, feeling as though I couldn't even move any closer.

He quickly attempted to sit up a bit more but ultimately winced at the pain that soon shot throughout his body from trying to move too fast. "Simone..." His voice sounded frail and brittle as he spoke my name. I could literally feel my heart sink to the pit of my stomach as I looked him over, gauze covering up his left shoulder and abdomen area with two large spots of blood decorating each area.

"What happened?" Was all I managed to let out through my tears.

All I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and hug him but I was too afraid to do even that without hurting him. So, I just stood in that same spot in the middle of the room terrified that if I get too close, I might officially break down. Right now, I just wanted to hold myself together for him but seeing him like this... I realized that this had been my worst fear ever since that night he stopped to give me a ride for the first time.

"Dominick... he broke in." He spoke in a breathy manner, sounding as if he had been running.

I turned my head away from him and shut my eyes tightly, not being able to see the damage my ex had done to Xae for just trying to help me as more tears poured down my cheeks. I knew that Dom had something to do with it but the confirmation just made me feel like complete shit. I knew it. I knew what would happen if he got involved with me, yet I stayed living with him long enough for Dom to find out where he lived. This was my fault. "I'm so sorry..."

"Hey, look at me." I heard him call to me with a bit more base in his voice but it wasn't enough to sound any less frail than when I first entered the room. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes and turned my head back to face him, his eyes already fixated on me with a serious expression playing on his features. "I already know what you're thinking and you need to stop blaming yourself. This isn't your fault."

"How? How isn't it my fault, Xae? I warned you, I knew how he was and I still put you in the position to get hurt." I sniffled out, shaking my head at myself in disappointment. "What if you would have died? I don't know if I could—" A slight hiccup escaped my lips as I buried my face in my hands, attempting not to break down at just the thought of him being gone.

A new hatred for Dom quickly formed in the pit of my stomach. He's already taken everything from me; Saint, my children, my sense of dignity and independence. What more could he possibly want from me? What have I done to have to live in the constant fear of needing to look over my shoulder? It wasn't fair. And it wasn't fair to Xae to have gotten him involved in the drama. I should have never given in and accepted that ride from him. None of this would have happened.

"That doesn't matter because I'm alive and kicking. And you had nothing to do with this, you hear me?" He sounded so sure of himself but I wasn't nearly as convinced that I hadn't played a part in what happened to him. He looked like he was in so much pain and I couldn't even do anything to help him like he has always helped me.

I quickly shook my head in response, my eyes finding his as I noticed the tears falling from his own brown orbs. "You need to just leave me alone and forget about me Xae, that's the only way you'll be safe."

"I don't care about being safe if that means I can't talk to you and make sure that you're safe." He retorted defensively. I wasn't sure if he realized how serious this situation was. When Dom broke into his house, I know for certain that he wasn't trying to injure or scare Xae; he was trying to kill him. The same way he did Saint.

"Don't say that..." My voice came out in a low whisper as my attention averted down towards my feet, unable to look at him for too long without more tears falling. "You have a whole wife and baby to live for now... and they come before I do. You can't put yourself in more danger for me Xae and I won't let you." I then looked back up at him so that he could understand the seriousness of the situation. "After I go to your wedding, I'm cutting off all ties with you. As long as Dom is out there and he sees us together, he'll keep coming after you whether we're just friends or not. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something else were to happen to you."

As soon as those words escaped my lips, he sat up in the bed and ignored the pain that I knew shot through his body. I could hear the heart pace monitor's rhythm begin to pick up, signaling that his heart was beating at a quicker speed. "I told you I'm fine. You don't have to run away every time something bad happens baby girl. I thought we were in this together...?"

"It's for your own protection, I'm sorry—"

I was cut off as the door swung open and Bree stepped through the door, her face instantly hardening once she caught sight of me. "You." She immediately charged at me and shoved me with all of her might causing me to stumble back, almost falling onto Xae's hospital bed. "It's your fault he's in here right now! If you would have never hopped your happy ass in our lives, none of this would be happening right now!"

Her words stung because it confirmed what I had been thinking and telling Xae. In one way or another, it was my fault that he was nearly killed and it hurt even more to be told by another person. "I'm sorry." My head hung low as I let out a barely audible whisper, not knowing whether I was saying that to him or her in that moment.

"Sorry doesn't change the fact that my fiancé is sitting there with bruises on his face and two bullet holes in his body. Even when you leave, your fucked up life comes back to hurt people."

"Bree!" Xae called out sternly, attempting to get her to stop berating me but that only seemed to make her more angry.

Her narrowed eyes cut towards him, the attitude evident in her voice and body language. "And why are you always defending her?! There are more important things that we need to be worrying about other than this girl's baby daddy drama. We gave her a place to stay and look what happened. Shit has just been going downhill left and right. We've never had this much drama in our relationship until she came along Xae, why can't you see that?"

The room suddenly stilled, a silence taking over the conversation as his glare remained on her and his jaw visibly clenched in anger. She had a right to be angry. From what I heard, they were happy until I came back into Xae's life and ever since then, problems had constantly been arising for them.

"Maybe Simone's not the problem, Bree." He mumbled back after a couple minutes of awkward tension residing in the room.

She gave him a hurt look, tears forming in the brim of her eyes as she shook her head and turned on her heel before storming out of the hospital room without another word to either of us. Once she left, the silence continued to hover over us like a dark rain cloud, neither of us knowing exactly what to say to each other after something like that.

He sighed and fell back against the bed, his eyes fixated on the ceiling above him as I stood in the same spot I had been previously pushed in towards the edge of his bed, looking down at my feet so that my eyes wouldn't avert anywhere else.

"She's right." I finally spoke up after a few minutes of the excruciating quietness. "Everything that she just said was true and that's why you have to just forget I ever existed. It's the only way to keep Dom away from you and keep your relationship in a good place."

"But if I go to the police about it, he'll be arrested right? And then you won't have to run away from me anymore." He replied as his attention quickly turned from the ceiling and back over towards me. "You wouldn't have to live the way you do anymore."

I sighed and shook my head. "I don't know. He'd probably find some way to get out of that too. You don't know him like I do. I used to go to the police all the time when he first started beating me but nothing ever changed or was investigated. Eventually, I just gave up..."

"Well, we don't know until we at least try."

Ajanae

I stared at the contact name for what seemed to be an eternity, just contemplating on if I should really put my pride aside and most likely get my ego hurt in the process.

There have been so many mistakes I've made dealing with this girl that it seemed as if I was constantly saying sorry to her. She probably wouldn't even believe me anymore if I did say it. Though, I still wanted to make it known that I messed up and I'm not after her head anymore.

She most likely didn't even have my number saved anymore and to tell you the truth, I honestly don't blame her. But I still had to give it a shot to at least say that I tried.

Quickly clicking on her contact name before my mind could make me overthink things once again, I held my phone up to my ear as the dial tone repeatedly sounded in my ear. My eyes widened in a bit of shock once I heard her voice come through on the other end, sounding a bit annoyed but answering nonetheless. "What do you want?" She spoke dryly, her voice pulling me out of the small trance I was in due to being surprised that I wasn't blocked from her phone.

"Simone! I—Hey. Can we talk? Just me and you." I asked as my world famous puppy dog eyes played on my features as if she could actually see me.

I instantly heard her scoff on the other end of the line. "What could we possibly have to talk about, Nae? Ajanae—whoever the fuck you are. You made it clear that I'm a dead bitch to you so why would I even be stupid enough to say or meet up anywhere with you?"

And that was honestly a good question. I'm not sure that I would meet up with someone who threatened to kill me not even weeks before but I just wanted to show her that I was being genuine. I didn't want to do things over the phone because I wanted her to actually see my sincerity. After this, I'd happily leave her alone if she wanted me to but I just couldn't live with myself without at least saying something to her to explain why I came at her like that.

"I know, I know. But I swear I'm not trying nothing, we can go to a public place and everything. Matter of fact, you can choose where we meet. I just... really need to talk to you." I spoke, allowing a shaky breath to escape my lips.

There was a bit of silence on the other end and I had to pull the phone away from my face to be sure that the call hadn't disconnected or something until I heard her sigh from her side of the phone. "Fine. The Waffle House down the street from Saint's house in thirty minutes. You know which one I'm talking about." Before I could respond or thank her for agreeing to see me, the call ended abruptly causing me to slightly scrunch up my face but quickly soften it back out once I remembered that we weren't actually friends anymore so there was nothing else that we really needed to talk about.

I let out a small sigh of relief before throwing on a simple black and white Adidas tracksuit with matching slides to go along with it and wetting my hair a bit so it wouldn't look like I had just crawled out of bed before heading out.

***

My hands anxiously gripped the steering wheel as I sat in the parking lot of the designated Waffle House, already seeing Simone sitting down inside but being too nervous to actually go inside myself just yet.

I had to get my thoughts together and I had to do it quick before she became too impatient and decided to leave. Closing my eyes, I inhaled through my nostrils and exhaled through my mouth just so I wouldn't start hyperventilating. It was something that hadn't happened to me since I was in high school but then again, I haven't been this nervous since then either.

Once I saw her check the time on her phone for the fifth time, I swiftly exited my car and locked the doors before making my way into the quaint establishment. She hadn't even looked up from her fidgeting hands until I slid into the booth in front of her, shooting a small awkward smile her way that she, of course, didn't return. "Make this quick, I have to be at work in an hour and a half." She quickly broke any silence there may have been with a blank expression on her face.

"Work?" Anything that I had to say quickly flew out of the window as excitement instantly was laced in my voice. I had never heard her talk about having anything even remotely close to a job so this new update was a shock to me. A happy one. "You have a job? When'd you start? How are you liking—"

"This isn't what I came all the way here for, is it? Because that just means I wasted my time." Her face remained straight with no kind of playfulness in her tone as she spoke to me and that's when I realized the difference in her.

There were large black bags under her eyes, her skin seemed a bit paler than usual and though her hair was usually always on point, today it was just thrown into a quick low ponytail. It looked as if she hadn't had sleep in weeks and the large white bandage that resided around her wrist had only suggested the worst. Once she noticed me staring, she quickly pulled her sleeve over it as if she had just remembered that it was even there. "Alright." She said as she began to gather her things and get up from the booth causing me to quickly break out of my trance for the second time today.

"Wait! That's not—" I looked around at all of the customers that we had suddenly gotten attention from due to my outburst and instantly lowered my voice. "That's not what I wanted to talk about... I wanted to talk about what happened that night."

"Which night? The one where you threatened to kill me or the one where you helped kill my boyfriend?" There was nothing but pure venom in her voice as she glared at me through squinted eyes. I could tell that this girl was tired of being pushed around and toyed with by everyone in her life. She was the true definition of fed up.

I sighed and looked down at the table as I slowly nodded my head. "Ok, I deserved that one."

"Oh no, you deserve a lot more. You're just lucky I don't have the heart to give it to you because I once called you my friend." She slammed her hand down on the table. "No, fuck that, I called you my sister. And you smiled in my face like everything was cool while you were sitting there plotting with that sick ass nigga that I call my child's father!"

My heart fell to the pit of my stomach as she spoke but I couldn't say anything because I knew that she was right. Every word she spoke was the truth and instead of coming clean like I should have, I betrayed her and someone close to her ended up dead because of it. Someone who I also smiled at and talked to throughout the months that Simone and I were friends.

"I know and I swear there's not a day that goes by where I don't regret what I did. I knew Dominick was crazy but I didn't think that he..." I trailed off and shook my head, not wanting to be the one that said it out loud. "I didn't know things would go down like that. I thought he would just try to beat him up or something like normal people. But now I see that Dom's far from normal, especially when it comes to you."

Her facial expression softened for a split second before her eyebrows became furrowed and her hard glare returned once again. "If that's the case, why haven't you said anything? You're telling me you're sorry and think about it everyday but yet, you haven't said shit to the cops. I don't have any proof against him but you do. All I have are allegations that he'd find some way to get out of."

"Simone, don't you understand? He's not the only one going down for Saint's death. If he goes down, I do too." I leaned in as I spoke just above a whisper to avoid being heard by anyone else in the small restaurant.

"I don't give a fuck!" She responded loudly, immediately thwarting my attempts to not attract attention to ourselves. "It's YOUR fault too. You don't even know—" She abruptly stopped speaking as if she couldn't form another word, tears gathering in her eyes as she quickly turned away so that I wouldn't be able to see her crying but it was too late.

I did the only thing I felt I could at a time like this and stood up from my seat to go and sit down next to her, wrapping her up in my arms as her head instantly fell against my shoulder. I could feel her hot tears soaking through my shirt as the seconds ticked by, hearing soft sniffles being muffled from her head being tucked into my body. My hands ran up and down her back gently as I tried my best to comfort her.

She lifted her head only enough so that her face wasn't still buried in my clothes. "You don't know what that man has done to me and then you go and help him ruin my life. For what? What did I ever do to you?"

She finally raised her head more to make eye contact with me and the look in her eyes nearly shattered my heart. "Simone, if I would have known—"

"Yea, yea. If you would have known, you wouldn't have done it. That's all you keep saying but even if you didn't know, why?" The sadness in her eyes subtly shifted back to anger as she looked at me with disgust. "I've never done anything to you, I didn't even know who you were before all this happened. You should have just left me alone. How could you even do that to someone?"

My arms dropped back down to my sides as I looked away from her. I didn't even know why myself, I had just been so caught up in the moment. "I don't know... I thought I loved Dom. Or at least what we used to have with each other before the two of you got together and became a power couple. I guess I kind of envied you..." I shook my head. "God, I sound so pathetic. I didn't come here to make amends or anything but I wanted to let you know that I made a mistake. I know now that it wasn't you that tried to kill me."

Her tear stained eyes squinted a bit as she raised a curious brow at me as if she didn't believe what I was saying. "Who was it then?"

"It was Tiarra. That’s why the description I got sounded so much like you."

Simone's brown orbs instantly grew wider in size as she tore her gaze away from me and stared ahead of her, in shock at my revelation. Her expression quickly went from surprised to livid, though, as she nearly shoved me out of my seat. "So you did it? You had her murdered so brutally because she tried to kill you?"

"No, no! I swear, someone else got to her before I even found out that she did it. She just had a lot of enemies I guess." I answered truthfully with a shrug, not exactly feeling bad about Tiarra's death but at least hoping that Simone would believe that I had no parts in it.

"Why should I even believe you?"

An exhausted sigh escaped my lips as another shrug rolled off of my shoulders. "You shouldn't. You have no reason to... but I'm telling you the truth. I would never wanna hurt you like that again."

She looked straight ahead as if she was thinking about what I had said, trying to decide whether she wanted to trust me or not. "I believe you." I instantly sighed in relief. "I meant what I said before though. We can't be friends. I would just find it too hard to trust you." She replied and I couldn't say that what she said didn't hurt me, but I also couldn't be mad at her for the way she felt. "I want to thank you for all the memories and lessons you've given me though... I guess I'll see you when I see you."

And with that, she gave me a small smile before standing up and exiting the restaurant, leaving me with a slight weight lifted off of my shoulders.

Dom

Chuckling at Junior’s so-called drawing of me, I chopped up the lines of my favorite substance on the nightstand. By now, he knew not to touch it or even look at it for that matter.

I sat in the comfortability of my bed as my son sat on the carpeted floor with markers and coloring pencils scattered all around him as he continued to draw various things he would either see on TV or knew from memory. "Aye, make sure you don't get none of that on the carpet. You hear me?" I called out to him, referring to the red marker he was decorating the blank sheet of copy paper with.

He looked up at me for only a second to nod in response before going back to his coloring. This fathering thing was a bit hard and a little too much at first since Simone usually did all of the work when we were together, but I think I'm actually getting the hang of things. Junior and I have a lot more fun than I thought we'd have and the only time I gave him over to my mother nowadays was if I needed to go out and do something that a four year old shouldn't be around.

I still planned on getting Simone back and her living with me so we could be a family again but I knew things wouldn't be the same as before. I murdered two of her little boyfriends so of course there's going to be some tension there but at the same time, she needed to be taught that there's no other nigga out there for her but me. She's the only woman I've ever had the mind to even propose to so I wasn't just going to let her go that easily. The world didn't work that way.

After successfully chopping up the lines of the pure white cocaine that rested on my nightstand, I grabbed the already rolled one hundred dollar bill and leaned down to expertly snort the first line of the fine white powder.

My eyes instantly shut closed at the euphoric feeling that overwhelmed my brain as my fingers rubbed at my nose and I sniffled a few times to be sure that I inhaled all of the powder. There wasn't a drug I loved more than the one that had my dopamines running rampant at that very moment.

Just as I opened my eyes and leaned back down to snort another line, Junior's small voice rang through my ears. "Daddy, where's mommy?" When I looked over at him, his large brown eyes were staring back at me with a glistening hope that this time, my answer would be different from all of the other times. It took a second for me to process what he had said, but when I did, I made sure to put the bill down and give him my full attention.

It was a question he asked almost every single day since he'd been with me and I couldn’t blame him because most of his time was spent with his mother, but it was becoming a little annoying. He made me feel like I wasn't doing my job as a father for him to enjoy his time with me so he had to go and ask for Simone every day. It felt like I wasn't good enough.

I sighed. "I already told you. She had to go away for a little bit but she's coming back, so don't worry. Mommy would never leave you."

"So why she gone now? Don't she love us?" He replied back in his broken English since he was still learning how to form complete sentences correctly.

I stumbled a bit on what to say in response. This was the first time he had ever asked me that question. All of the other times, he took what I said and just nodded or said okay. Of course, he'd have that little pouty look on his face and even cried sometimes but he still never questioned it until now.

Standing up from my spot on the bed, I made my way over to where he was set up and crouched down so that was now at eye level with him as he continued to stare at me with curious eyes, waiting for me to answer his questions. "Of course she loves us, especially you. She just needed some time to herself 'cause a lot was going on in her life. And I know it feels like she's been away forever but I promise when she finally gets to see you, she'll be so happy that she'll hug you for even longer. She might even cry."

He instantly scrunched up his face. "Why she cry if she happy?" His facial expression caused me to chuckle a bit to myself because he looked just like Simone with those big round eyes whenever she was confused about something. Even the way his lip slightly curled upwards was the same.

"They're called happy tears lil' man. She's gonna cry because she'll be happy she finally gets to see you after missing you for so long." I responded back to the best of my abilities since my high had already been kicking in. I comfortingly ran my hand down the side of his face, slightly caressing his cheek a bit with my thumb. He was the one person that I never wanted to see hurting and he was hurting because he couldn't see his mom.

"Oh." He nodded as he looked down at his tiny fidgeting fingers, seeming as if he wanted to ask more questions but didn't.

A look of sympathy played on my features as I stared down at my only child with his lip poked out, immediately knowing that he was still sad about the whole situation. I grabbed another blank sheet of copy paper from underneath his other drawings and handed it to him. "Here, why don't you draw mommy a picture of her so you can give it to her when you see her?"

An instant smile formed on his face as he nodded in agreement and took the paper from me, immediately getting to work on drawing the stick figure version of her. One thing he always loved to do since he was small was draw. I even had to get the walls in his bedroom lined with chalk wallpaper because I'd always come home and find little doodles all over the freshly white painted walls.

I gently rubbed my hand over his head a few times before standing up to head back over to my bed, continuing the process of what I had been doing before that little heart felt moment happened.

Of course, I wasn't lying to him. I was hoping he'd be able to see Simone soon but the only way that would ever happen was if she agreed to come back to me and stay with us again. I knew that she would do anything for Junior, even if that meant moving back in with someone who had annihilated any other relationships she thought that she had. But she had to understand that I was only doing all of this for the betterment of our family; whether she liked the way that it happened or not.

Once I was comfortably situated in my bed once again, I picked up the rolled up bill and placed it to my nose, sniffing the second line of cocaine that sat on my nightstand. There were four thin lines in total, each one perfectly equal in size and width to each other.

I looked back over to see that Junior had already drew Simone and was now drawing a smaller stick person right next to her, holding her hand. I knew the picture was supposed to be of him and her but it kind of hurt that he didn't think to draw me in there with our family. Had I really been that absent in his life that when he drew a family portrait, it didn't include me?

"Where am I at?" I called out to him causing his little head to pop up as he halted his movements.

He quickly shook his head from side to side and grabbed another sheet that had been in the pile of pictures he already drew, holding it up for me. "No, this us." Sure enough, there was a drawing of all three of us holding hands together under a sun and some clouds with huge smiles on our faces. He then placed the paper back down and pointed to the one that he was drawing now. "This just me and mommy."

I nodded in content, a bit more satisfied that he really had included me in at least one of his pictures without me having to ask him to. It made me feel better as the only father figure in his life. I never had someone I could call a "dad" or "father" so the only thing I wanted for Junior was for him to have the perfect family. Although I knew deep down that our family was far from perfect, it didn't hurt to at least make it seem like it was for him.

I smiled down at my son who had been too busy focusing on his coloring to notice, only wishing that I could have done better for him.

Just as I turned my head to lean down and snort another fine line, I heard loud banging coming from my front door causing me to let out an annoyed sigh as I placed the one hundred dollar bill back down on the flat surface of my nightstand and stood to my feet once again, grabbing the small pistol that I kept hidden underneath my mattress. I had been moving real reckless lately and I didn't know who could be at my door wanting revenge and from the sounds of the knocking, that seemed like exactly what it was. I'd be damned if I let anything happen to Junior so I always kept protection near me just in case.

"Don't get up from that spot." I ordered my son sternly who in turn, had been paying no attention to me as he added extra details to his picture. I closed my room door and instantly took the safety off of my gun.

Stealthily tip-toeing towards my front door, I kept the pistol planted firmly in my hands as paranoia began to riddle my mind, making me think of all the possibilities on who could be at my door. Once I reached my destination, I lowered my head a bit to look through the peep hole and saw nobody there, just the darkness of the night that was slightly lit up due to my porch lights being on.

I quietly unlocked the door and reached for the handle of my doorknob, before swiftly swinging it open and immediately raising my gun ready to fire on anyone who was trying to catch me slipping.

The two police officers that were standing side by side instantly pulled their weapons with alarmed looks on their faces, both of them shouting loudly as they too held their guns up to me. "Put it down now!" I heard them both yell as they slightly backed away to keep distance between us.

My eyes widened once I realized that I had just pulled a gun on two cops, immediately dropping the gun from my hands as I held them up in surrender. I was not trying to be another statistic in the #BlackLivesMatter movement and I definitely wasn't trying to go out by no pigs so I complied with what they asked.

Once the gun was out of my hands, one of the officers kicked it away from me and lowered his gun while the other kept his weapon trained on me just in case I tried something funny. The officer that holstered his gun quickly reached behind him and pulled out a pair of handcuffs as he grabbed my raised hands and turned me around, locking them tightly around my wrists. "Dominick Anderson, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Xavier Mitchell. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do..."

My brain instantly tuned him out as it began to finally register the officer's words. Attempted murder? Meaning the nigga didn't actually die? I couldn't even believe the shit that was happening right now. Then my thoughts quickly shifted over to Junior who had still been sitting in my room thinking all was well.

I instantly started thrashing against the cop, trying to fight to get away from him and over to my son as both officers tried to restrain me. "Wait! My son is in there! I can't leave him here by himself." I quickly shouted causing the two to look at each other before one of them headed over to my bedroom to check on if what I was saying was true.

He came back out a couple minutes later with Junior holding his hand as he held up a small baggie, holding my stash of cocaine inside. "Well well well... what do we have here?"

I instantly closed my eyes and cursed myself in my head for forgetting about the narcotic that had been sitting out in the open before I had came out to answer the door.

"You're gonna be locked up for a long time, pal."

[sadprose-auroras]

‘Breathe’ – Roger TaylorXReader (HIGHLY UNRECOMMENDED)

A/N – just a few things:

Sorry about any inconsistencies with regard to writing style or characterisation, I haven’t written a fanfic in like 5 years, and a short story in about a year. Also dialogue has always been my weak point, so I sincerely apologise for the cringe. Please don’t take any of this to be representative of real people – it’s meant to be an AU. I obviously didn’t know young Roger Taylor personally.

Lastly, please don’t question why Roger is shitfaced and the reader is entirely sober… we don’t talk about that. Or the unusual turn it took toward the end. I was in a mood.

Please enjoy, and leave any feedback or requests (even if it’s to tell me that my writing is SHIT – I’ve literally never written in the second person)

xx

Your feelings for him were almost too cliché. Every time he hugged you by way of greeting, you yearned to bury your face in his neck. Every time he finished a set with his band, you wanted more than anything to be the one he picked up in celebration, spun around and kissed sweetly, feeling and knowing you were safe in his arms.

But that would never happen; because he occupied his time with a string of meaningless one-night stands, and parties where the stream of alcohol was constant. You wanted to be fine with just being his friend, but you were a ticking time bomb. Each time you saw him whispering something in yet another girl’s ear, arm resting lazily behind her and she giggled, your patience grew thinner and thinner. Every time you sat up with him on a rare night he wasn’t shagging a random girl whose name he presumably did not know, sipping coffee and intensely talking about everything and nothing, your inner voice screaming at him to love you back, to realise everything he could ever want was sitting right in front of him grew louder and louder.

You relied on a multitude of excuses as to why you could never, and would never, tell him how you really felt. You explained it away by convincing yourself it would be too complicated, with him constantly touring and you being tied down, at your stationary job. You didn’t want to wreck your already beautiful bond by complicating it with more-than-platonic feelings. You figured you could endure the shameful jealousy you felt watching him flirt with every girl in sight, and you tried to rationalise your concealment by convincing yourself that it was pointless; he only valued your friendship, and it would be humiliating to be rejected in such a vulnerable position.

You even, at one point, attempted to convince yourself that you weren’t truly in love with him, and you were just confused by your strong feelings of loving friendship, combined with his ridiculously ethereal good looks; his huge, sparkling, baby blue eyes, messy golden locks and cheeky smirk. That didn’t last very long.

The months seemingly dragged on, and it felt more and more as if your heart was being physically ripped out of your chest. One particularly painful night, Roger, being on a break, invited you over to his flat, to cook dinner together and watch films. However, after eating, he begged you to go out to a local pub instead.

“Come on, please,” he flashed you ridiculously adorable puppy dog eyes that, embarrassingly, sent a shiver down your spine, “we’ll have so much fun.”

“Rog,” you sighed, “you know it’s not really my scene.” You attempted to avoid eye contact with the dreamingly attractive man sitting across from you, awkwardly staring at your plate as you pushed the leftovers around with your fork. You didn’t want to hold him back, which you often guiltily felt you did.

“Please, Y/N. I can’t very well go out and leave you here in my place now, can I? You simply have to come with me!”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but scoff playfully and roll your eyes at this.

“Okay, fine!” you groaned, “but I’m not going to enjoy it! Know that I’m doing this reluctantly, and only for you!” you rolled your eyes dramatically, as you began to gather the dishes.

Roger batted your hand away as you reached for his plate.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I got ‘em.” He grinned and leaned forward to grab your plate. You tried your very best to not stare at his exposed chest in this process; his dangerously low unbuttoned shirt, paired with stacked necklaces, was your absolute kryptonite.

You were kicking yourself for expecting anything different; of course, he just came here to hook up with someone. As you sipped on your drink, maybe a little too quickly, you couldn’t take your eyes off Roger, casually leaning on the bar, flirting heavily with a girl who was stroking his arm and laughing loudly at something he was saying.

Of course you were jealous of his (assumingly) sexual advances towards someone else, but the thing that hurt the most, was that he practically dragged you here, then abandoned you to flirt with a stranger. You were at least expecting to hang out with him as a friend, as you normally would. But for now, you felt stuck to your chair, as Roger (who had not even glanced your way in the last 10 minutes) ordered another drink, and pulled the girl onto the dancefloor.

“Y/N! Sweetie!” Roger slurred, stumbling towards you. You quickly darted up, wrapping your arms around him to stop him from tripping over his own feet. You tried to ignore his hot breath against your neck as he spoke.

“You’re the cutest,” he giggled. “You’ve got a really cute nose!” He gasped, as if he has just come to the realisation.

“Has anyone ever told you that?” he asked, adorably tapping you on the nose. Jesus christ. Could you be more in love with him?

“I can’t say they have,” you laughed, in an attempt to suppress your feelings, shamefully loving his drunken antics. He nuzzled his face into your neck, letting out a muffled, “hmm,” in response.

“Come on, Rog. Let’s get you home,” you said, walking both of you towards the exit.

“You take such good care of me,” Roger mumbled peacefully, then, to your amusement, burped loudly. You struggled to fill up a glass of water and grab some painkillers, as he hung all over you and got in your way. Bloody hell. Being this close to him was not making it easy, or any less confusing. Could he either just be with you, or not talk to you at all?

You led him into his bedroom, placing the water and tablets on his bedside table, then placing a bucket from the laundry at his bedside. As you grabbed some pyjamas for him from his drawer, (which, to your embarrassment, you knew exactly where they were and which ones he preferred to wear), he continued to praise you.

“Seriously, Y/N,” he sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re the only person who understands me.” This tugged at your heartstrings, and you bit your lip to stop the tears welling in your eyes, as you handed him the pyjamas.

He looked down at them in his hand, furrowing his eyebrows, then said, “Can you please help me put these on?”

You sighed, nodded and knelt in front of him on the floor, swallowing your intense fondness for everything about him. For how caring he truly was, despite his cheeky façade. For the way that he made your heart flutter just by looking at you. For how he always seemed to know what you were thinking or feeling before you even said it. For how he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when you were alone with him. For how he didn’t tolerate your occasional, and unfortunately inevitable shitty behaviour, but politely called you out on it, and accepted the same from you. And, particularly, for what he said next;

“I’m so sorry about tonight. I really am.”

“It’s fine, Rog,” you smiled at him, trying to hide your shaking hands as you quickly slipped his shirt off his shoulders and buttoned up the pyjama top.

“No, it’s not.” He said firmly, fortunately changing his pants by himself as you sat beside him on the bed, aching to rest your head on his shoulder.

“That was such an asshole thing to do. I dragged you there, then ditched you.” He spoke with such genuine sincerity and remorse, his eyes actually filling up with tears, that you were taken aback.

“Please forgive me,” he hiccupped. You couldn’t help but smile at his, and, spurred on by his drunkenness and high likelihood of forgetting tonight’s events in the morning, bravely touched his cheek lightly. He fluttered his eyes shut at the sensation, leaning into your hand.

“Of course I forgive you, you idiot.” At this, he grabbed your hand and touched your fingers gently to his lips, placing your hand down again, while whispering, “I love you, Y/N.” It happened so quickly, and so quietly, you felt lightheaded at your startlement.

“I love you too, Roger,” you smiled sadly, still assuming he meant in a platonic way.

“No,” he rapidly shook his head drunkenly, “I’m in love with you. You’re the most compassionate, strong, independent person I have ever known. I know we’ve been friends for so long that it seems like it would never work, but it can. It can!” he babbled.

‘Rog,” you breathed, “don’t do this right now. Please. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Just go to sleep, okay?”

His eyes drifted shut as you pulled the blanket up around him.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he mumbled sleepily, snuggling down into the bed and gripping the sheets.

You brushed his hair out of his face, leaning down to kiss his temple as he quickly began to fall asleep. Your heart ached at the sight; his mouth was partly open, breathing softly, his hair formed a halo around his head on the pillow, and his annoyingly long eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones.

“Goodnight, Roger.” It absolutely broke your heart to stand up and leave the room. It took all you could to not turn back around to look at him, just once more. To just have one more moment of weakness.

“Stay with me,” you heard a distant voice behind you. You ignored it, shut the door, and went downstairs to sleep on the couch.

After waking up earlier than you would have liked, you attempted to wash your grogginess off with a long, hot shower. This, unfortunately, only provided the perfect opportunity to overthink. As you massaged shampoo into your scalp, your mind, annoyingly, wandered. Did Roger mean everything he said last night? Or was he simply blabbering drunken nonsense? It, after all, seemed too good to be true. Why would he have feelings for you? You could be a bore, you were ridiculously stubborn, and you would only hold him back from living a fulfilling life. But then again, why would he be such close friends with you, if he didn’t like who you were as a person? Did he know how you felt about him (you probably didn’t do a very good job at hiding it), and was just making fun of you? You quickly scolded yourself for even going there as you dried yourself off and got dressed; he would never be that cruel.

As you rounded the corner into the kitchen downstairs, the welcoming scent of coffee enveloped you, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

“Morning sunshine,” you smiled at Roger, who, despite his rough appearance and probable headache, was still making the both of you coffee (with milk and no sugar, just as you liked it). You gratefully wrapped your fingers around the mug as he handed it to you.

“Morning,” he said, then, ever so casually, leaned forward to peck your cheek. Your heart skipped a beat. Had things changed? Did he actually love you, as you did him?

Your hopes were quickly crushed when he said, “What the hell happened last night? I don’t remember a thing.” He furrowed his eyebrows in thought. You attempted to suppress the physical flinch that overcame you when he spoke.

“Well, except that I begged you to come out with me. I’m so sorry about that,” he sighed. This was all too familiar. Your heart sank. Nothing had changed.

“It’s fine, Rog, really,” you said, feeling absolutely defeated and frustrated.

Suddenly, you were more than just hurt. You were angry. All the feelings you had suppressed for so long culminated in white hot rage toward Roger. How dare he give you a sliver of hope, when he must have been aware of your feelings for him (hell, you must have been obvious).  To your shame, you began to yell at him in a frenzy, your head spinning. You ignored the hurt and confusion in his large eyes; those that easily expressed all his emotions and thoughts in just a glance.

“No, you know what? I’ll fucking tell you what happened. You did the cruellest thing you could have possibly done. You finally returned my feelings, finally made me think you could actually have feelings for me as well, despite only just having spent the whole night dancing with another girl while I sat alone! Then you forget that you told me you loved me? What kind of person does that!? I fucking hate you, Roger,” you exhaled, an involuntary sob escaping your lips. Before you knew it, you were sliding down until you were leaning against the kitchen bench, hugging your knees and crying uncontrollably. You couldn’t suppress the burning in your cheeks; you were humiliated. You could never take it back. He finally knew how you felt about him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Roger, who sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he said soothingly. You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to push him off you, your face still buried in your hands, but he stayed put. You just knew that if he touched you like this, you would come undone yet again.

“Hey, Y/N, please look at me,” he begged, moving your chin with his fingers to face him. You let out a shaky breath in hopes of calming yourself down.

“Please don’t push me away.”

His face conveyed such raw vulnerability that your chest physically ached at the sight. All you wanted was to run your hands through his hair to comfort him. For now, you settled for smiling at him encouragingly.

“I remember,” he whispered.

“What?”

He cleared his throat, speaking louder.

“I remember, Y/N. Of course I remember. I’m so sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have pretended not to remember. I was just scared. When I’m sober, I can control myself around you. I can hide my feelings. But when I’m drunk, I have no control. I say what I really feel. The only reason I was so insistent on going out, was so I didn’t have to be alone with you in my apartment. I thought I could escape how I feel about you. I didn’t trust myself to not say anything. I had to distract myself with someone else. But, it didn’t work. It never does. My feelings just grow stronger,” he gulped, licking his lips nervously.

“How,” you spoke slowly, “how do you feel?” you asked. You needed to hear him say it.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been for years.”

“I love you too, Roger. So damn much.” A single tear of relief ran down your face, and he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

You glanced down at his plump lips, bit yours, and slowly leaned in. Your stomach flipped so much, you felt as if you were going to explode. Finally, your lips met. You felt dizzyingly euphoric as you kissed each other; agonizingly slowly, with passion and tenderness. His tongue ran along your bottom lip as his hands gripped your sides, and you involuntarily groaned into the kiss. You, finally, reached up to run your hands through his hair, tugging slightly.

As you pulled away, feeling dizzy at the lack of oxygen, you let out a shaky exhale as you smiled brightly at each other.

“I,” you started, “have been wanting to do that for such a long time.”

“Me too,” his face lit up, the corners of his eyes crinkling and eyes shining as he smiled. Your heart lurched.

“Really?” you asked, screwing up your nose. “I honestly don’t believe it. What about all the girls you date – or rather, shag?” you corrected yourself.

He shook his head, reaching up to brush your hair out of your face.

“I was just running from how I felt about you. But,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear and lingering his hand at the side of your face, “I feel more intimate with you when you simply look at me, then I did with all of those girls combined.”

-

“I just got so used to keeping it a secret, I couldn’t even imagine a world where it was actually out in the open, ya know?” you said, intertwining your fingers with his. He hummed in agreement, circling his thumb on your hand mindlessly.

You were both sitting on the couch, you on his lap with your legs outstretched, his arms wrapped around you and your head resting back on his chest.

“That’s exactly how I felt,” he laughed into your hair, “exactly. I got so used to filling my days with partying and sleeping around to suppress my feelings, that I almost got to the point of convincing myself that I didn’t really love you. The key word here is almost,” he emphasised. You rolled your eyes at this. It sounded all too familiar.

“Yet,” he continued, “every time I saw you, I would just fall more in love with you, and just be back to square one.”

You couldn’t help but ask him, “but why me? You’ve been with so many girls. I’m not exactly the conventional body type.”

It was true. You certainly had your struggles with your body image.

“Plus, why couldn’t you have easily fallen in love with any one of those women? They aren’t just sex objects, you know. Anyone who has the good judgement to enjoy your music must be a pretty cool person.”

He took a second to answer you, and when he sat up so the two of you were cross-legged facing each other, your heart sank. Had you taken it too far? Had you offended him?

“I don’t treat women like that, do I?” he said, a look of concern taking over his features.

“I didn’t mean to disrespect anyone, I tried to consider their feelings. It was always consensual.” He continued. You sighed.

“I don’t doubt that you were anything but your sweet, caring self. I know you’d never intentionally objectify someone. All I meant was, having sex with lots of women isn’t justified by saying you were distracting yourself. You’re still technically reducing them to their sexuality. That’s just a really unhealthy mindset to have. There’s nothing wrong with having lots of sex, but women aren’t distractions; they’re people with feelings.”

Suddenly his whole demeanour softened, and an affectionate smile took over his face. He grabbed both of your hands again and kissed your knuckles.

“What are you doing?” you laughed, trying to lighten your tone so he knew you didn’t mean any ill will.

“I just,” he paused to kiss your other hand, “love you. And that’s why. You’re so intelligent, you’re always looking out for the good of everyone besides yourself. And you are right. I never would have thought that something so small could actually be damaging like that.”

Holy shit. Could you be more fond of him!? You were speechless. And yet, something was holding you back.

“So,” you gulped, “you never answered. Why me?”

“Y/N, my love. Please stop doing that. You’re beautiful. It’s not just about your body. I mean, of course your body is beautiful, but it’s in the little things. The way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating, the way we’ve been together for roughly three hours and you’ve been resting your head on my chest or shoulder for about two hours and fifty-five minutes of that time. The way you always try not to offend anyone with your words. The way you make my whole body feel like it’s buzzing with electricity. And the way you take my breath away, and make me feel like I can finally catch my breath, all at once.”

“Rog,” you moved closer to him, looking him directly in the eye, suddenly feeling guilty.

“You know I love you too, right?”

“I mean, I’ve definitely been the sappier one so far in our relationship,” he teased. You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him.

“I’m serious! I want you to feel the same way I do. I want you to know how much I admire your passion for music. How flustered I feel when you merely hug me. How much I adore the way you treat your friends with so much kindness. How I am in awe of your generous and open heart. How I literally melt when you wear those damn shirts that you barely button up.”

He cocked his eyebrow up, smiling at you.

“I just really wanted you to know that I absolutely adore you too,” you finish, lightly dancing your fingertips across his lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing your fingers.

“Okay,’ you said, sitting up straight, “I’ll cut you deal. You try and stop reducing women to only one thing before you even know them, and I’ll stop being an insecure, closed-off little bitch, and actually be open to the idea that someone might actually have feelings for me, and, for once, make myself vulnerable. What do you say?” you babbled.

At this, Roger smiled softly, shook his head and said, “There is just no one like you, is there?”

“So do we have a deal?” you asked, cheeks flaming red, as they always did around him. This time though, you didn’t have to hide it.

“Of course, Y/N.”

As you both leaned into each other to steal a short, sweet kiss, you finally felt content. And, for the first time in a long time, it felt as if you could finally exhale.

[foreverandalwayshttyd]

It’s Hard to say Goodbye

Soooo, I wrote this in like 10 min..... A little nervous since this is my first fanfic I’m sharing on tumblr (there’s more of these on ffnet) but eh, don’t be too harsh hehe;) Enjoy this little emotional piece of sadness...

......

It's crazy how fast life moves. One minute your flying on top of your best friend through the clouds, with not a care in the world. The crisp dew filled breeze rustling through your hair, as you contemplate on your newest discovery. The feeling of a nice worn out saddle beneath you, and the intense grip around the handle bars.

And the smiles. The nice contagious smiles that make your heart melt in happiness. The laughs. The constant jokes, the endless teasing, and the loads of fun riding your dragon.

The soft sides in your friends. The amount of sentimental talks, emotional breakthroughs, and little quarrels that seeped into their time, made life all that more meaningful.

The wordless conversations. Not that they had a choice. Even though your best friend can't speak, his eyes and body can. They way his pupils enlarge when he sees you. The way he curls protectively around you when you begin to drift off to sleep. The feeling of his smooth scales beneath your callused palms. The worried croons he gives you when he's concerned about you. The little comforting nudges he shares when he sees tears spill down your burning cheeks. The amused warbles when you tell a funny joke. The feeling of wrapping your arms around his oversized neck, which you sink into when you seek comfort in hard times.

Hiccup Haddock never thought for a second that he'd have to say goodbye to all of this. Not even a millisecond. Sure, he knew they would all pass in the end, but not apart. He thought he and his best friend would live together forever. The feeling of loneliness tugged at his heart as he refused to accept it. No, not now. He couldn't give up his best friend.

But, a new feeling creeped into him. One that he had never felt before. Was it courage? Fear? Anxiety? Confidence? He had no clue. But for some reason, all of these emotions were mixing together in him since the first day he had met his scaly friend. They wouldn't be quite finished mixing until this moment. Only if he chose to accept it.

He looked up into the hazy blood orange sky, and stared longingly at the sea. They were coming, and he knew it. He had to protect his people. A chief protects his own. His father's words ringed in his ears, as he looked around at his anxious, broken villagers, now in a place that was so foreign to them.

People scurrying everywhere in a huge hassle. Dragons crooning worriedly towards their tear stained owners, as they let out wallowing sobs against their reptilian companions. He let out a shuddered sigh when he saw his blonde lover shaking her shoulders in sobs, as she nuzzled her crooning dragon. His other friends weren't doing any better. All sprawled against their dragons looking so weak and alone. The poor dragons had never looked so heartbroken and confused.

The children whined and complained to their parents, which wasn't helping the already emotional families. Hiccup had to look away. He just had too. His eyes would become to puffy and swollen if he didn't look away. He shifted his gaze back towards the sea, where the dragons would soon disappear to. He couldn't go with them. None of them could. This they knew, because Hiccup finally realized that they'd have to go their separate ways. For the good of both their kinds. No matter what, enemies would always be lurking around and it always brought danger to both the humans and dragons. So they had to go their separate ways.

An anxious, emotional croon swirled through his tingling ears. Along with a gentle comforting nudge to the shoulder. Hiccup bit his lip, as he closed his eyes, furrowing his brow. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't say goodbye. The nudges and croons continued and he couldn't take anymore.

Without warning, the broken viking chief whizzed around, and lunged towards his best friend. Hiccup buried his stifled sobs into his dragons chest, listening to his soothing heartbeat. He felt his dragon's croon vibrate as he wrapped his wings around his companion. For a long while, it was just the two of them. Their last embrace. Pressed against each other, recollecting their whole life together.

No more late night flights, gazing up at the stars above. No more exploring new lands with each other, or stumbling upon a new dragon or two. No more fighting by one another's side, or having each other's back. No more crazy stunts or inventions to tease about. No more people to convince about dragons being gentle creatures. No more bonding. It was over.

Toothless hesitantly unfolded his wings and let the exasperated boy crawl out of him. Hiccup continued to rub his eyes, making them blurred and red. But he didn't care. Neither did Toothless. He gently licked the side of Hiccup's face to help wipe off what seemed like rivers of tears. Hiccup slightly chuckled at the feeling of his best friends cold, wet and sticky tongue. For the first time ever, he didn't recoil back in disgust, for he knew he'd never feel this feeling again.

Toothless pulled back and hung his head low in grief. Hiccup picked up his dragons head in his arms and looked him straight into his watery eyes. "It's you and me, bud. Always." He softly whispered with a little choking sob stuck in his throat, as Toothless' pupils enlarged before dragons started taking to the air, along with louder sobs from the vikings.

Hiccup looked up to the dragons in the air, trying to take mental pictures of everything before it was all gone. He looked back at his best friends large green eyes, that reflected his own. They stared for awhile before the Light Fury came over and nuzzled Toothless.

Hiccup placed his hand atop her head, as she leaned into his touch. "Take care of my best friend. Don't let him get into trouble," Hiccup said with slight amusement, as the Light Fury crooned and her big sparkly blue eyes widened, as she shrieked. More dragons took to the air as they new her position next to the alpha.

Stormfly gave her sobbing companion one more affectionate nudge and croon before leaping into the sky. Astrid collapsed on her knees, as she watched her dragon fly away. She tried to brush her hair out of her face, as it stuck to her tear stained face. She glanced over to her auburn beloved, her heart aching as she saw him saying his final goodbye to his best friend.

Pretty soon, all of the dragons had taken to the sky. Only Toothless remaining, as they awaited their alphas command to start their journey. Hiccup sighed heavily and hugged his dragon one final time. "Thank you, bud. For everything. I'll never forget you. I love you, Toothless."

Toothless crooned sadly towards his rider, before Hiccup mouthed a 'go' to him. The dragon shrieked into the sky, as the dragons instinctually flew out towards sea. The Light Fury, Cloudjumper, and the other riders' dragons stayed put, waiting for Toothless.

Unexpectedly, Toothless licked Hiccup's whole body, leaving him sopping wet in his saliva. Hiccup softly chuckled as Toothless warbled and took to the sky, his new prosthetic tail flapping in the wind. Hiccup stared longingly as his best friend gave him one final glance, before he and the other dragons flew off into the horizon.

Every villager was quiet. Just muffled sobs, and a few final shouts of goodbye. Hiccup watched the dragons fly away sadly. Everything he had worked so hard to create was gone in an instant. His utopia had gone back to being just a dream instead of a reality.

His thoughts froze as he felt tender arms wrap around him comfortingly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw blonde strands of hair flailing in the air. He felt their head gently rest against his shoulder, as he felt her hot tears spilling against him.

He smiled softly and wrapped one arm around his blonde partner, trying to comfort her as best as possible. So happy and pleased that she was crying over the thing she had fought for so many years. On the other side of him, he saw his mother place a gentle hand on his shoulder, and squeeze his shoulder gently.

He had no idea how his mother was taking this. For twenty years, dragons was all she knew. She had rescued them, lived with them, discovered them, and even became part of their family. His heart fluttered slightly when she thought back to her previous statement before the dragons left. I'm not losing you again, son. You are my family and I wouldn't leave you for the world. Not after abandoning you for twenty years.

His friends circled him, as well as the rest of the village. They were huddled close now, as they watched the very thing they were known for fly away.

"Are you alright, son?" Valka's broken, but gentle voice asked the the weary chief, as everyone was anticipating his answer. Hiccup sighed, and looked up into his mother's lost and grief stricken eyes, as she gently stroked her son's rustled hair. One single tear streamed down Hiccup's cheek as he stared out into the ocean.

"Why is it so hard to say goodbye..."

[casper-has-a-cat]

WARNING: descriptions of vomit below!

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okay, you’ve been warned!  please enjoy the fic!

“Boy,” Phichit said as he walked with Yuuri to the rink one day.  “It’s cold in Detroit!  It never gets this cold back home!”

Yuuri responded to his friend’s comment with a strained smile.  Phichit had been talking about home non-stop recently, and it was putting Yuuri a bit on edge.  Not because Phichit ever seemed upset, but because he actually never seemed upset.  Which didn’t make sense to Yuri who, when he’d gone overseas at the age of 18, had experienced crippling home sickness starting just a few months after he’d arrived in the U.S.  Only now, just over a year later, he was finally past it.  The younger boy, however, having arrived no less than half a year ago, showed no signs of sadness.  Yuuri sighed, and wondered if perhaps talking about his home country was Phichit’s way of dealing with missing it.

“Phichit, does it snow in Thailand?”

“Oh, no!  Not like it will here!”

Yuri smiled, genuinely looking forward to seeing his friend’s reaction to the white substance.  “You’ll love it.”

Phichit grinned back, but soon frowned as a chill ran up his spine and made him shiver.  He looked eager as he pushed open the doors to the rink.  The two boys walked inside together.  They chatted a bit more, but soon fell silent as they started to practice.

It was a rough day for both of them, with a lot of endurance training as well as technique, but Yuuri couldn’t help but notice the way Celestino scolded Phichit far more than normal.  When they took a break, Phichit’s face was flushed.

“You okay?”  Yuuri asked him as he grabbed some water.

“Hm?”  Phichit put his water bottle down and raised an eyebrow.  “Sure, why?”

“Oh, you just…”  Yuuri struggled to put it into words.  “Your cheeks are pink and it seems like you’re struggling more than normal.  Not that you’re doing bad!”  Yuuri rushed to amend any offenses he may have committed, but Phichit waved him off.

“Nah, you’re right.  My cheeks are just red from the exertion, but I really haven’t been at my best today.”  Phichit smiled, and Yuuri thought it looked a bit forced, but thought maybe he was just being paranoid.  “Don’t worry about me, Yuuri, everyone has bad days, right?”

“Y-Yeah, just- let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, alright?”

Phichit nodded gratefully, gave a thumbs up, and headed back out to the rink.  Yuuri followed soon after.

Unfortunately, Phichit’s skating got progressively and almost exponentially worse as the day wore on.  Not only that, but Yuuri’s capabilities went down hill as well.  Phichit may have been his opponent, but he was also Yuuri’s best friend, and he couldn’t help but be preoccupied and concerned.  He’d never seen Phichit falter this badly, and it scared him a little, mainly because somehow, Phichit was still smiling.

Eventually Celestino told them to go home early for the day.  Both boys tried to convince their coach that they were fine, but the older man just shook his head and huffed out a laugh as he practically pushed them out the door.

“You two,” he handed them their skates.  “Deserve a break.  Take it for what it is and enjoy your night off, okay?  Maybe it’ll snow and we can call it a snow day,” he said with a wink, just before he closed and locked the doors to the rink.  Both boys looked at each other and dissolved into laughter.  Phichit’s, however, cut of quickly.

“Phichit, are you-“

“I’m fine, Yuuri.  You don’t need to worry about me!  Really,” Phichit insisted, walking ahead as the older boy hesitated.  Yuuri jogged to catch up, only to freeze suddenly to avoid running into his friend, who had come to a sudden stop.

“Phi-“

Yuuri watched Phichit’s back as the younger boy’s shoulders jerked, hands over his mouth.  For a moment, Yuuri wondered if his friend was crying, and his heart skipped a beat at the thought.  He had never seen Phichit show any real signs of being upset, and the thought that he might have been containing sadness for all of these months made it hard for him to think clearly.  Hesitantly, but too concerned to stop himself, he stepped forward so that he could face the trembling boy.

He wasn’t crying, but he did look more upset than Yuuri had ever seen him.  For a moment, all he could do was stare at the broken expression on the his friend’s face.

“Phichit, what’s wrong?”  He finally asked, with all of the feeling and sincerity he could convey.

Another handful of seconds passed as Phichit stood, trembling, eyebrows fumbling on his face with conflicting desires to open up and stay closed.  Yuuri waited, and waited, and waited, until, at last, Phichit let out a small whimper.

“Yuuri!”  Phichit whined, and spread his arms wide for a hug.  Yuuri readily returned the gesture and allowed his friend to fall into him, and began rubbing his back soothingly.  Phichit shuddered, and whispered after some time, “Yuuri, I - hic - I feel sick.”

Yuuri tensed momentarily; it wasn’t what he’d expected.  Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do all he could to help.  He took a deep breath and pushed Phichit away, taking in his washed out appearance, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said firmly, one hand gripping Phichit’s shoulder, “first things first, let’s get you home.”

Phichit made a noise of dismay, but nodded.

“Hey,” Yuuri said gently, giving Phichit’s shoulder a squeeze, “if you’d rather, I can call a cab to come pick us up.”

Phichit shook his head.  “’t’s not that far.  I can - hic! - make it home.”

Yuuri examined the sick boy one more time, and, finding that he didn’t look like he was in danger of passing out, nodded again.  He took Phichit’s hand and gave a slight tug.  Phichit followed behind, complacent and scarily listless.

“Squeeze my hand if you need to stop, okay?”  Yuuri instructed, turning back for a moment after a particularly strong wind assaulted them.  He saw Phichit agree with a nod and forged on, trying to ignore the occasional muffled burps and nearly constant hiccups coming from behind him until Phichit gave him a reason to do otherwise.

They were only about a hundred feet from their apartment when Phichit squeezed Yuuri’s hand.  Yuuri turned around immediately, just in time to see Phichit swaying on his feet, just in time to catch him before he fell.

“Woah, hey,” Yuuri mumbled, lowering his friend to the ground gently and trying not to panic.  “Phichit.  We’re so close.  Come on.”

“S-So c-cold,” Phichit mumbled, eyes closed.  Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief.  Phichit hadn’t passed out, his legs had probably just gone numb and become too weak to support the rest of his body.  Yuuri took off his own jacket and wrapped it around the sick boy, who, never having had need of one, didn’t even own a winter coat.  Then he helped Phichit to his feet, and wrapped an arm around him.

“We’ll be there in just a minute.”

“Feel so - hic! - sick.  Don’ wanna - hic! - be sick,” Phichit replied, his trembling worsening as tears pricked his eyes.  Yuuri scowled, caught in an internal debate.  He eyed their apartment.  He could see it from where he was standing.  He eyed Phichit, who was short and thin, but packed with muscle.  He was also shaking like a leaf and on the verge of a breakdown and looked halfway to death.  Yuuri shook his head.

“Hang on,” he mumbled, and scooped Phichit up in his arms.  The boy made a small noise of surprise, but didn’t protest.

By the time they reached their apartment, Yuuri was ready to collapse and his fingers were frozen, but they made it.  He set Phichit down, jolting him out of a light sleep, and fumbled with the key until the door flung open.  He nudged Phichit inside and followed in after.

“Ah,” Yuuri muttered.  “The heat feels amazing, huh?”  He kicked off his shoes.  When he received no response, he looked up.  Phichit was standing just past the doorway, looking for all the world lost in his own house.  Yuuri sighed.

“Phichit, how about you sit down on the couch for now and I’ll bring you some water and blankets as soon as I can.”

Dazedly, Phichit did as he was told.  Yuuri gazed after him with worry momentarily before rushing to gather some supplies.  He also called Celestino to explain the situation, and the coach, who’d had his suspicions to begin with, said that he would be over to help out soon.  By the time Yuuri got back to the couch, Phichit was curled in a ball, sleeping.  Yuuri smiled softly and sat in the chair next to the couch.  He’d only just relaxed into it when Phichit jerked awake, one hand on his stomach, and the other on his mouth.  Yuuri didn’t waste a second in grabbing the plastic bowl he’d retrieved and pushed it into Phichit’s hands.

“I don’t-“  Phichit cut himself off with a gag, but nothing came up and the bowl tumbled from his hands.  ��What’s-“  Phichit gagged again, and Yuuri sat beside him to help him stay upright and to old the bowl steady.

“Yuuri?  What are you… Thailand?  Where am I?”  Phichit looked around disconcertedly, and Yuuri put a hand on the boy’s forehead.  It was a bit hot, but not hot enough for him to be hallucinating.  Phichit rubbed his eyes blearily, and Yuuri frowned.

“We’re in Detroit, Phichit, where did you think you were?  This is where we met.  We just had practice today-“

Yuuri stopped talking when Phichit let out a strangled sob.  He ducked his head into the bowl as tears spilled from his eyes.

“I thought - hic! - I had a dream, that I was back- back in - hic! - Thailand.”

Yuuri rubbed his friend’s back, not knowing what else to do.  “Aw, Phichit.  You miss home?”

Phichit nodded and then shuddered before gagging, still unproductively.  Yuuri worried that he was holding back.  He hoped Celestino would arrive soon.  In the mean time, he decided to do what he could to distract his friend from his ailment.

“What’s Thailand like?”  Yuuri knew from experience that there was little that could be done to help with homesickness, but he’d always appreciated having someone who would listen to him talk about Japan.  Judging from the way Phichit’s face relaxed upon hearing the question, his friend felt the same way.  Phichit looked at Yuuri for a moment before staring off wistfully into the distance.

“It’s warm.  And - hiccurp! - the food is the best.  And…”  Phichit blinked and turned back to Yuuri with his tears renewed.  “And the people - hic! - there are people who love me.  They’re warmer there.  They’re… home.”

Phichit’s lip quivered as he finished, and Yuuri tried to process this new information.  Somehow, he understood.  Phichit was, himself, a very warm person.  Yuuri was not.  The thought that he couldn’t be home for his friend because of that made him sad, but he didn’t know how to be anything else than frigid.

“I just-“  Phichit broke Yuuri’s train of thought with a sob.  “I don’t want to be sick - hic! - here, alone, I don’t-“  He doubled over with another unproductive heave and Yuuri’s eyes shot up.

“Wait a second, Phichit,” Yuuri said, brushing the sick boy’s hair out of his face.  No, Yuuri did not know how to be warm.  But being there for a friend when he was sick so that he didn’t feel like he was all alone?  That much he could do.  “You’re not alone.  Hey.  Listen.”

When his stomach settled, Phichit looked at Yuuri.

“I am here.  I promise.  I don’t know about warmth, but I won’t leave you.  And Celestino is on his way here.  I know it’s not the same, but just- just give us a chance to become a second home for you, a different one.  Please?”

For a moment, Phichit looked like he’s going to start crying again.  Then he lurched over the bucket in his lap with a belch, and heaved, finally bringing up a mouthful of vomit.  Yuuri flinched unconsciously, but pressed a cold washcloth to Phichit’s neck and told him that everything would be okay.

The doorbell rang, and Yuuri didn’t move, but opted instead to shout permission for the guest to enter.  When Celestino walked in to find his two skaters in such a vulnerable position, he immediately took control of the situation, telling Yuuri to give Phichit some space so that the older skater wouldn’t catch the bug and taking Yuuri’s place himself.  Before he got up, Yuuri whispered in Phichit’s ear in a pause between heaves.

“I’m here, I promise.  Let me know if you want me, and I’ll be here.”

Phichit nodded minutely, and Yuuri got up, somewhat grateful for the opportunity to get away from the potent smell of vomit.  He looked out the window and tried to tune out the disturbing sounds of his best friend puking up his guts, but that was easier said than done when each watery belch, each painful retch, each splash against plastic only brought memories of seeing his best friend being sick.  He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on Celestino’s steady stream of reassurances.  When the last of Phichit’s dry heaves (at least for the moment) tapered off, Yuuri opened his eyes again.  He could hardly believe what he saw.  He turned around to face his coach and his friend.

“It’s snowing,” he said quietly.  Then, louder.  “Hey, Phichit, it’s snowing!  Huge flakes.  It’s…”  He trailed off when he saw Phichit looking out the window with wide eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” Phichit said.  A smile graced his face, then, for the first time in what felt like days (though it had been only hours), and Yuuri felt as though his entire body sighed in relief.  A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up to see his coach at his side.

“Nice job, kid,” Celestino said with a smile.

“Oh, no, I don’t think I was able to do that much!  Thank you for coming!  Phichit was freaking out before you got here, telling me about how warm the people in his family are, and I just- well, you’re much more warm than I am, and-“

Celestino raised his hand from Yuuri’s shoulder to cut off his mumbling.

“He wasn’t freaking out when I got here,” he said pointedly, raising his eyebrows.  “Calming him down- that was all you.  I’m just saying, don’t sell yourself short, alright?  Who to say you don’t have a wealth of warmth hidden inside you?  Maybe you just need the right kind of person to show you it matter and to bring it out.”

Yuuri thought about that as he walked his coach out, and glanced a Phichit, who was sound asleep, remnants of a smile on his face.  It was how he usually slept.  Smiling.  Waving goodbye to Celestino, he wondered if the older man had a point.

Phichit mumbled in his sleep, and Yuuri walked over, leaning in despite Celestino’s warning.

“Hmrrrmp, snow… snow man, mmm, sled,” Phichit mumbled before rolling over and falling silent.  Yuuri grinned.

He hoped, at the very least, that he’d been able to teach Phichit how to appreciate something about the cold.  If Phichit could do that much, then maybe Yuuri could meet him half way after all.

send me an ask!

[arplis]

Arplis - News: “Hang on to your hat, toots.” — my life, the last few weeks

(Starting with this update.) We’ve officially transitioned mini to school and she loves it. We were pleasantly surprised at how smoothly it all went. The only hiccup so far has been figuring out pick up in the afternoon. For the first few days, I dropped her off and picked her up alone because she had such odd hours (i.e., one hour from 10:05-11:05 one day, then two hours from 9:30 to 11:30 the next day, etc.) and it would have been impossible for Mr. Magpie to handle either end given his work schedule. I would usually just post up in a nearby coffee shop and get some work done, but it was a pretty disruptive week, especially coordinating breastfeeding around it. Then we transitioned to more of the expected routine: Mr. Magpie drops her off in the mornings on his way to work. I had intended to have our nanny pick her up in the afternoons so I could stay home with micro for breastfeeding purposes, and so after I felt we had the morning routine down pat, I decided to bring our nanny with me to pick mini up so I could show her the ropes and pass the baton. When mini saw our nanny first (before seeing me), she dissolved into tears. I had given her a heads up that our nanny would be there, too, but I think she was upset that I wasn’t the first face she saw (the best part of my day has been seeing her beaming face when I arrive at the door — “there’s my mama!” she shrieks). The school had warned us about this, noting that kids can be very thrown off by disruptions to routine, and encouraging us to stay consistent with who drops off and who picks up. Now I know why. Mini was apoplectic and close to impossible to maneuver home (i.e., refusing stroller, refusing to walk, laying down on the subway floor — oh.my.GOD). After that incident, I chatted with her teacher and we decided that I should continue to handle pick-ups for the next few weeks before introducing our nanny into the mix — just too much change for that little one. Besides, I hadn’t anticipated it, but our little pocket of thirty minutes on our way home is nearly always the highlight of my day. I love hearing about her day, smothering her with kisses, holding her little willing hand as we walk towards the subway stop. And so this whole transition to school has been relatively smooth all things considered but still quite a change for everyone. Routines in the morning are planned down to a millisecond and I’m busy getting that little one fed, toileted, dressed, brushed, and out the door by 8 a.m. Gone are the leisurely mornings nursing micro in bed! And then — oh! The apartment is deafeningly silent in mini’s absence. She is a whirling dervish at home, flitting from activity to activity in constant chatter and singsong. I have found myself straining to hear her on multiple occasions, my heart in my throat. Changes all — most of them welcome, some of them…skeptically accepted. Meanwhile, the apartment hunt continued. We saw at least fifteen units all up and down the West side of Manhattan, a few spots on the UES, and one in DUMBO. It was exhausting, in large part owing to the underhandedness of the broker situation. There are so many misrepresentations in listings — “3 bedrooms!” is often “2 bedrooms but you can split the second to make a third with a partition” or “2 bedrooms plus a closet with a questionable window that could be a nursery” or “2 bedrooms plus a dangerous loft where no child should ever sleep.” And then there are things like “washer and dryer in unit!” — only you arrive and find you will be responsible for purchasing the washer/dryer, though there is a hook-up available. And “available immediately!” only you arrive with your baby in a carrier and your toddler wrangling out of your grip and find yourself in a construction zone, sawdust coating our lungs and electric saws buzzing inches from our faces (i.e., decidedly not available immediately). There’s this shadiness, and then there’s the fact that the NY rental market moves at the speed of light — aka a frenetic pace ill-suited towards families with small children and lots of moving parts. New places are listed daily and are often gone within a day or two, and you are meant to move in within a week — and if you aren’t planning to move in immediately, you’ll probably be passed up as an applicant for the unit because brokers don’t want to sit on a vacant unit. They’ll just wait another day or two for someone willing to move in sooner. I mean, can you imagine?! It’s too much pressure! How can you expect a family to find a place and move within a week?! At any rate, after seeing fifteen places, we put in an application on a unit with about a month left on our current lease and were passed up because the landlord’s broker pulled a weird stunt on us, using our application offer (rent is almost always negotiable in NY) to go back to another applicant that had been interested in the apartment to get them to counter with an earlier lease start date and a slightly higher rent offer. The brokers hadn’t made this information known to us, of course (we would have happily matched the offer), and had instead more or less counseled us to submit the offer we did (“I’ll encourage the landlord to accept it,” stated the broker — grrr) to push the other couple to sign immediately. And so we suddenly found ourselves back at square one, with no apartment lined up and the clock ticking. When we heard the news, it took every ounce of my personal resolve to avoid bursting into tears. I had loved the unit, but more than that — I had loved the idea of being done with the search and able to move forward with next steps. The night we found out, I woke up at 3 a.m. shivering uncontrollably — my teeth were actually chattering! — and aching all over. A few hours later, I woke up and had sweated through my clothes. It went on like this — sweats, chills, achiness, splitting headache — for several days. I eventually went to see the doctor who confirmed I had picked up some kind of virus but I’m convinced that my shock and stress level at discovering we had no apartment with less than four weeks to go had triggered it, or left me in such a state of weakness that any old virus could have shut me down. I somehow managed to muscle through last week, sick as a dog, visiting a new battery of listings all over the place. We also had a bizarrely busy social schedule (we’re normally homebodies), with two receptions and a cocktail hour we hosted — and then there was mini’s meltdown owing to the nanny’s pick up at school right smack dab in the middle. During that epic tantrum, I’d had to carry mini by her arms up the subway stairs while I also had micro strapped to me in the carrier. She had turned into a jellyfish and would.not.climb.the.stairs and also would.not.let.the.nanny.come.near.her. I had no choice, after attempting to reason with her and cajole her for about five minutes while no-nonsense, in-a-rush New Yorkers trampled us at the foot of the steps, but to pick her up by her arms and carry her up the steps in front of me, like a noodle. That debacle led me to pull a muscle in my abdomen which in turn made breathing hurt for a couple of days — though at the time, I wasn’t sure if the pain in my side was related to the virus or something more serious, and so the doctor ran a gamut of tests, had me x-rayed, etc. (It all turned out clear — just a strained muscle from trying to carry forty-five pounds of children up the stairs in the most awkward maneuver known to womankind. Go figure.) Somewhere along the way, micro picked up whatever virus I had and suddenly my world was literally collapsing on itself. There were a few nights where I was up with poor micro every hour of the night. It got so bad that I had to ask Mr. Magpie to split shifts with me, but even then it was impossible to sneak in a stretch of sleep because we are all about two feet from one another. The baby was running a fever and battling an upset stomach and so we were covered in baby vomit, shivering/sweating together, and mind-numbingly exhausted. And did I mention that while I believe I hold or can reach a sense of perspective in most parenting-related matters, when it comes to ill children, I lose my bearings?! I worry myself sick, wondering if I’m overlooking a symptom and what I believe to be a run-of-the-mill cold is actually something more nefarious. I clutch them in my arms and cry over them. It is physically painful for me to see my babies unwell. Then, on Friday, I woke with the worst migraine I have ever had in my life. I could not see straight. I could barely walk. Turning my head to the left or right was shockingly painful. I was so sensitive to light that I had to stay in my bedroom with the blinds drawn. I could not rally myself to put on clothes and pick up mini from school — I had to call Mr. Magpie and ask him to leave work early to get her. On top of it all, micro was scheduled to be Baptized two days later and I had my parents coming into town, with fabulous dinner plans to boot. I was defeated. That was the lowpoint. The lowpoint of this year (fingers crossed), and in fact the last two years — since the last botched and stressful move, come to think of it. But as quickly as everything had spiraled out of control, it all came back into focus. We found another — better! — apartment, this one a “classic prewar six” in Manhattan terms. (A classic prewar six refers to an apartment configuration with six rooms — three bedrooms (one smaller, typically referred to as a “maid’s room,” perfect for a nursery), living room, kitchen, formal dining room — in a building constructed before WWII, and therefore likely to be rife with traditional charm. You won’t find open concept floor plans with a classic 6, which Mr. Magpie and I rather like. These buildings also tend to be very well-constructed — i.e., “they just don’t make them like that anymore.”) When we went uptown to sign the lease, the broker walked us through the unit and something inside me relaxed. I could instantly see the wonderful life we would have there, with much more space, a dedicated nursery for micro, a larger kitchen, and a bedroom for mini that is large enough to accommodate all of her toys, her activity table, her dollhouse, and all the other bulky items that currently reside in our living area. I’m sure her toys will still find their way into our living room, but no longer will it be their primary home, praise God. A friend of mine recently said that “a cluttered house is a cluttered mind,” and I think this, too, is why this stretch of the last few weeks has been so overwhelming. We are busting out of this apartment as micro grows and has new needs and more clothing and bigger diapers and all that jazz. Micro and I both overcame our ailments (for the most part) around the same time and managed to enjoy his Baptism feeling more like ourselves. (I wore the dress mentioned here.) We had a beautiful morning with friends and family, enjoying brunch after his Christening smooshed in like sardines around a small table at Cafe Luxembourg, whose boisterous environment matched the general ebullience of the moment. I looked around the table at one point and thought how lucky I am, and how insignificant all my travails of the previous week were in the grand scheme. I mean, let me be real: everything is horrible when you feel sick, and everything is doubly horrible when you feel sick and are caring for an ill infant while going on four months of sleeplessness. And moving is stressful, full-stop. But there we were, closer to the other side, with the happiest occasion in front of me. A happy and newly healthy baby, welcomed into the Church, the presence of my loved ones, the promise of a new, more spacious beginning on the Upper West Side. And on we go… What’s happening with you? Post Scripts. +What are your most memorable golden moments/golden hours? Brunch after micro’s Baptism is up there. +OK, mini would die and go to heaven with this. +A perfect Christmas dress for a little lady. +Expect some more home decor related posts soon, as we need to purchase a number of pieces of furniture. I am already eyeing a couple of rugs, and Horchow has such a great selection (on sale) — love this for mini’s room, or maybe this. Although I’ve been chastened — probably not good to have a light colored rug in a toddler’s room. May need to explore darker/more patterned styles. +I love this oversized houndstooth scarf. +So excited we’re closing in on sweater weather. +Likely my next headband acquisition. +I like this slim hamper for micro’s nursery… +I’m a copycat. +I ordered one of these tags for mini’s stroller, which we store at the school during the day since Mr. Magpie drops her off and I pick her up. It’s perfect! I was impressed with the quality and speed of design/shipping. Going to order some more for her bags. A cute add-on to a gift for a little one, too. +I love these for keeping my phone free of fingerprints. +A good dupe for those Paris Texas snakeskin boots that are all over the place. +A fun tee. +A great dish to display fruit/citrus on your counter. The post Lately… appeared first on The Fashion Magpie. #Parenting #NewYork #Musings #NewYorkLife #Parenthood

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/hang-on-to-your-hat-toots-my-life-the-last-few-weeks

[writingfromkitchenator]

Alone

Pure

Part 1: Bigger | Part 2: Cookies | Part 3: Run | Part 5: Child | Part 6:  Memories

This one got a little long, took me ages to write (for good reason).  I went a little out of my comfort zone at the end, writing smut, so please be aware of it.  I have put a break in for when the smut starts, so if you don't wish to read it, then you can end the story there.  However, if you do, can I request that you please give me feedback?  This is the first time I've written it and would really appreciate thoughts about it.

Hope all of you are enjoying!  :)  (Please don't hesitate to like or make requests)

I need your help.

Sam stared blankly at his phone for a moment, not recognising the number before he practically leapt to pick up his phone, hitting dial on the number.

It went to voicemail. “Don’t leave a message, I won’t call back. Text instead.”

Sam cursed and typed. Where are you Y/N?

He waited, but got no response.

Sam hurriedly pulled over his computer and quickly started typing, pulling up the information he needed.

“Cas!” He called in the bunker, Castiel hurrying into the room looking worried.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Y/N’s in trouble.” Sam said. “She sent me a message but isn’t answering. I’ve tracked her location with her number.

Castiel hesitates. “You know it could be trap Sam, Abaddon-”

“I know,” Sam said quickly, throwing on his jacket as he looked desperately at Castiel. “But it’s my fault she ran in the first place and I’m not going to just sit back and wait to see if she’s actually in trouble.”

“It’s her father’s fault Sam, not yours.” Castiel said, but as Sam frowns at him, Castiel nods. “Alright, let’s go get her.”

The location Sam had was a few hours’ drive away, his fingers tapping nervously on the wheel the whole way.

“I’m sure she’s fine Sam.” Castiel said carefully, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. “She was dating Crowley, I doubt there wouldn’t be much she wasn’t ready for.”

“Now is not a good time to joke Cas.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

They pulled up outside a motel, Sam hurrying inside to talk to reception if they’d seen you, Castiel looking from door to door.

One of the doors had blood on it.

“Sam!” Castiel called and rushed over to the door, finding it locked, he hit it hard with his shoulder, letting it fly open as Sam came running over, both of them entering the room.

You were slumped against the furthest wall in the room, a half a bottle of whiskey next to you, and a lot of blood soaking your clothes.

“Jesus Y/N!” Sam dashed over to you, dropping down so that he could check your pulse, which was faint but still steady, and he checked over the wounds, badly bandaged, as Castiel looked you.

“She’s used the alcohol to kill the pain and clean the wounds.” Castiel said. “They’re not too deep but she’s still lost a fair bit of blood.” Leaning forward, he pressed his hand against your forehead, letting his grace heal you.

You mumble something as you come round, your eyes opening slowly and you blink at Sam and Castiel. “Hey…”

Sam’s look of relief was momentary as you groaned. “Easy Y/N, take it slow. We’ll get you up.” He and Castiel take you by the arms to help you to your feet, setting you on the bed.

You stretched a little, but winced. “Yeah…that’s going to hurt for a while.”

“I healed the wound,” Castiel frowned. “You should be fine.”

You gave a strained smile. “Thanks Cas, but when you’ve been slumped against the wall for a while, it goes a bit beyond what even an angel can heal.”

Sam knelt in front of you, his gaze concerned. “What happened Y/N?”

You sighed, your gaze weary, your exhaustion clear. “A couple of demons found me, guess I got a little too relaxed after not seeing anything for a couple of weeks, and they tried to take me down. They came out worse off but not before I took a couple of hits.”

“A couple of hits? Y/N, you were lucky they didn’t kill you.” Sam said.

“They weren’t interested in killing me, trust me.” You said with a grimace. “Abaddon wants to use me as bait for Crowley.”

“So she is definitely after you then?” Castiel asked.

You nod, although quickly stop as your head spins. “Unfortunately. I’ve been doing pretty well up until this point, avoiding demons as well as Dad.”

Castiel and Sam share a look, one that had you looking between them. “What?”

“He was pissed when you left.” Sam said. “And swore to hunt you down and bring you back.”

“I had little doubt that he would.” You said bitterly. “But I’ve stayed ahead, just, at times, but it appears my assumption was correct in that he wouldn’t give me much credit towards being a hunter too.”

With a sigh, you collapse back onto the bed, running your hands over your face. “Thanks for coming for me though, I almost thought…”

“We’re not just going to leave you Y/N.” Sam said firmly. “No matter what was said back then. We can-”

“I’ve still got to stay on my own Sam.” You said without moving. “Until all of this, and I mean all of this, is sorted, then it’s too dangerous for me to be anywhere but on my own.”

Sam stands and gives a slightly irritated huff. “Y/N, you could’ve died today. Don’t you think that’s a good enough reason to let us help?”

“No.” You sit up slightly. “Sam, I don’t think you understand that I would choose death over every other situation that’s been offered to be by you guys at the moment.”

He sighs. “I know it’s not easy, but you’re life has been on the line out here on your own-”

“And I’ve been handling it.” You said gently. “Sam, I planned this for weeks, Kevin helped me out a lot-” You faltered at Sam’s expression at the mention of Kevin. “No.”

When Sam remained silent, Castiel picked up. “Kevin…Kevin was killed Y/N. Metatron ordered it and we were too late to stop it.”

“I could’ve stopped it.” Sam mumbled bitterly. “If I had just known-”

“None of us could’ve known Sam.” Castiel said. “Kevin’s death is not your fault either.”

“Of all the people that have been caught up in our messes, Kevin did not deserve death.” You said quietly, your voice sad. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t want you blaming yourself Sam, just as I don’t want you to blame yourself for me leaving.” When he looked at you, you gave a small smile. “Yeah, you’re that easy to read. Now, besides Abaddon, it sounds like Metatron has become a real problem too?”

Castiel nods. “He’s claimed himself God and is trying to build up an army in Heaven again.”

You frown. “If he wanted an army, why did he cast all the angels out in the first place?”

“He was trying to get them to understand what he’s felt like all these years on earth, and with the offering of a return home, many aren’t turning him down.” Castiel said sadly. “The angels have virtually been split into two and…and it’s gotten messy.”

“Well, it’s good to know neither side is getting on.” You groaned and then looked over at the half empty bottle on the floor. “Why don’t you two help me finish that before I have to disappear again?”

Sam picks up the bottle but doesn’t bring it over, placing it on the table. “No Y/N, I think you’ve had enough of this, and if you really are going to go back out there on your own, you need a clear head.”

You snort. “Trust me Sam, my heads perfectly clear when I’m running, it just helps with the emotional pressure through it.”

He frowns. “You can’t just drink away your problems.”

“I’m not, I’m drinking to help.” You lie back again on the bed. “You know I still limp right? My leg might be healed, but it still hurts at times to walk on it, that bitch did a hell of a lot of damage.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help Y/N.” Castiel said.

You sigh in frustration and sit back up properly this time, frowning between the two of them. “Look, I appreciate you guys rushing out to help me, I do, but this constant assumption that one, I don’t know what I’m doing, two, don’t accept the consequences of what I’m doing, and three, that I constantly need to be looked after, is rather tiring.” You look between them as they look a little guilty. “I get it, I do, but seriously, everyone has a hiccup once in a while, it doesn't mean they need to be babied over.”

“It's not just that,” Castiel said. “But Crowley has made it very clear of what will happen if anything happens to you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Let me guess. The promise of torture, death and dismemberment?”

They both nod.

You chuckle weakly. “Trust me, he won't.”

“Really? Because he seems pretty damn convincing.” Sam said.

You shake your head. “If I tell him not to he won’t.”

They stare at you. “Seriously?”

“He’s made it clear since our first date.” You smile a little. “I simply have to say so and he’ll back down.”

“How long have you two been together?” Castiel asked.

“Over a year.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Over a year? Through the whole demon tablet crap?”

You wince. “Trust me, it wasn’t that simple. He kept me out as much as he could, even at the end there.”

“He asked you not to help him didn’t he?” Sam asked.

You nodded. “He didn’t want me in danger.”

“From us?”

You nodded again, but hesitantly this time. “It was one thing he’d never listen to me on, but I guess he was proved partly right.”

Sam let out a long sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry Y/N.”

You shrug. “I’ve managed.”

Castiel was watching you closely, glancing at Sam for a moment. “I think I may have a solution.”

“I don’t need a solution Cas-”

“Neither one of us are going to let you out that door on your own again.” Castiel said firmly. “And if demon’s can catch you, then I’d hate to think that your father could too.”

You shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

“Sam is healed.” He continued. “And I’ve been in touch with several angels. I could take you with me.”

Your jaw dropped a little and Sam looked unconvinced.

“Cas, the angels are just as messed up as the demons at the moment, if not more so.” Sam said worriedly, but Castiel shakes his head.

“Maybe, but there’s something I haven’t mentioned in all this.” He looks pointedly at you. “Angels can’t harm pure bloods.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you tilted your head. “What?”

“Like prophets, each pure blood was assigned a guardian from birth, but it was for a very different reason.”

You sigh. “Let me guess…”

Castiel nods. “To make sure they never fell into a demon’s hands. Given all the fighting recently, among other things, I think it’s safe to assume yours is dead.”

You frowned though. “Shouldn’t I have known before this?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Not unless you came across demons before when you were younger?”

Sam saw your look and he frowned. “Have you?”

You shake your head slowly, but unsure. “Not that I clearly remember, but with Dad being a hunter, gifted in demon hunting, who knows what could’ve happened.”

This makes them both look more worried.

“If that were the case,” Castiel said slowly. “That could mean-”

“Cas,” Sam warned. “I’m sure we can’t make that assumption.”

Castiel hesitates, staring at you. “If she is the first pure blood in a long time…it would make sense that someone with a lot more power would be her guardian.”

“You said yourself that archangels were reserved for prophets Cas.” Sam said firmly. “And even if he was, don’t you think something would have happened during the Apocalypse?”

Castiel hesitates again. “It could be why he went so adamantly after Crowley.”

“They’d never met.” Sam argued.

“Not to Y/N’s knowledge, but we’ve all seen stranger things happen.” Castiel countered.

“Excuse me.” You cut in, looking between the two of them. “My life is already complicated so if you feel like adding more, feel free.”

“Lucifer.” You raised an eyebrow at Sam. “Cas thinks that Lucifer could be your guardian.”

“Lucifer?” You asked slowly.

Sam and Dean had told you all about the Apocalypse and what had happened. You’d never been quite sure whether you could believe it or not, but seeing their expressions now was making you reconsider.

“We can’t prove it of course.” Castiel said quickly. “But, the more I look at it, we also can’t afford to count it out.”

An odd silence fell over the room and you thought about the chaotic mess your life was steadily descending into.

“He’s locked away though right?” You asked. “He can’t actually do anything?”

“Yes, but it’s hardly-”

“Then we don’t need to worry.” You said over Castiel. “We can move on from it, deal with it if it ever comes up again.”

“Y/N-”

But you shook your head, feeling yourself starting to get a headache. “One problem at a time. Please.”

Castiel nods even as Sam looks like he wants to keep arguing. “Hopefully it doesn’t have to come up again.”

You nod and take the chance to change the subject. “Alright, so, what’s this business about going with you?”

“Well, you’d be safer for one,” Castiel said before Sam could cut in. “No angel can hurt you-”

“Hang on,” You said, frowning. “What about the angel in the hospital?”

He shakes his head. “He could’ve tried, but it never would’ve worked. If he’d managed a hit, he would’ve taken the pain instead.” He pulls out his blade and holds it towards you. “May I?”

Hesitantly, you hold out your hand. Castiel takes it and pressed the blade in, you tensed, expecting pain, but instead, Castiel’s hand glowed and he hissed in pain, holding up the small cut.

You and Sam stared in amazement.

“Damn,” You smirked. “I should’ve let the bastard kill himself.” When Castiel doesn’t look impressed, you shrug. “Would’ve been funny, also would’ve given me a lot more comfort sooner.”

“Okay, they can’t hurt her.” Sam said quickly, seeing Castiel’s look. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t sell her out.”

“I wouldn’t allow that to happen Sam.” Castiel promised. “I know who we can trust and who we can’t.”

“That…that is not comforting Cas.” Sam said weakly. “Given the angels record-”

“I’ll do it.” Both of them looked at you and you shrugged. “It’s better than being on my own. It’s been a long few months.”

“But-”

“I’ll be with Cas, Sam.” You said gently. “No matter what trouble he gets me into, I’m still going to be safer than what I am on my own.”

Sam sighs and then looks at Castiel. “You realise what you’re taking on here right?”

“Of course,” He nods. “But it is going to help keep Dean and Y/F/N away from her too. I don’t want to ask you to lie to them-”

“I’ve got it covered.” Sam gives a small smile. “It’s not like we’ve never had to before right?”

“I’m sorry Sam.” You said, feeling uneasy. “If I had any other suggestions-”

“It’s okay.” He gives genuine smile then. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Of course, it was only natural that things didn’t entirely go to plan. You had a feeling it would happen, hence why you made sure you had a backup plan.

Not that it mattered right at that moment.

The boys were on a case with Crowley, trying to hunt down the first blade, when Sam’s phone rang.

“Cas, what’s up?” Sam asked as he answered.

Castiel hesitation was clear. “We may have a problem.”

Sam frowned and noticed Dean and Crowley watching him, making him clear his throat. “What kind of problem? I mean, I don’t know whether you’ve noticed Cas but-”

“Y/N is gone.”

Sam stilled before realising that now was not the best time to show it. “What do you mean Cas?”  He asked as calmly as possible.

“My logical guess would be Abaddon’s demons.” Castiel said.

Sam let out a slow breath and stood, trying to ease himself away from Dean and Crowley, who had returned to arguing. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Castiel’s voice was grim. “We…she wanted to hunt, I went with her, it all went smoothly, we were resting up and she went to get food and…never came back.”

“Dammit Cas, what happened to having it in control?” Sam asked louder than he meant to, earning the returned gaze of Dean and Crowley.

“Everything alright Sammy?” Dean asked, frowning at him.

Sam winced. “Yeah…just…Cas had something happen, that’s all. He’s fine though.”

Dean’s frown deepened, but Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar Moose.”

Sam chewed his lip. “It’s fine.”

“Put Cas on speaker.” Dean said and Sam sighed, doing as Dean asked. “Go ahead Cas.”

“This would be easier in person, I am on my way.” Castiel grumbled before he sighed. “Abaddon has Y/N.”

There was a moment as both Crowley and Dean took this in, Crowley’s face turning pale and Dean’s face contorting with anger.

“She what?” He snapped.

“She’s been with me for some weeks recently.” Castiel explained. “I’ve been looking out for her, although I’m pretty sure she’s done more for me. We hadn’t seen any demon activity all this time, I guess we just relaxed a little too much. She literally just went across the road. I didn’t even hear anything, but there were signs of a scuffle.” Castiel paused. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Dean asked angrily. “Who knows what Abaddon is going to do to her? We need to find her now.”

“Abaddon will use her to get to me.” Crowley said softly, but surprisingly calmly, although his eyes were dark. “That’s our only saving grace at the moment, that she won’t hurt her too much, well, not until she has me.”

“Yeah, that’s a great way of looking at it Crowley.” Dean said. “Need I remind you-“

“She’s my partner, the only one that should be reminding anyone of anything here is me.” Crowley’s voice started to rise. “If it wasn’t for you idiot’s in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Y/N is not yours Crowley, you don’t deserve anyone, let alone her.” Dean matched his volume, earning a dark glare from him.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Crowley seethed. “Don’t you think I question every day what she sees in me? Something you have all seem to forgotten in this is that this is her choice. Not mine, not yours and definitely not her bloody fathers. Hers. So why don’t you just back off?”

Dean was going to keep arguing but was cut off as Castiel cleared his throat from the doorway, hanging up his phone.

“You have some nerve Castiel.” Crowley growled.

Castiel just nods. “There’s something else you should know.”

“What?” Crowley asked through clenched teeth.

Castiel glanced at Sam, who frowns. “She made me promise not to tell you, but given the circumstances, I think…it is necessary.”

“So enlighten us, please, before I decide to actually take something out on you.” Crowley growled.

Castiel shifted on his feet. “I…she had to talk me into this, I want you to know that first, and we did a lot of research before even considering going through with it.”

“What?” Crowley bit.

“Y/N…Y/N said yes to an angel.” Castiel licked his lips. “But you should know that she made up one hell of a contract first. Only one angel would agree to it.”

Crowley had all but frozen, staring at Castiel.

“You let an angel possess her? Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head. “She let an angel possess her, as extra protection. Y/N had little doubt of what would happen eventually and she wanted to make sure that she wasn’t on her own.” He looked worriedly at Crowley, who still hadn’t moved. “He’s not allowed to do a thing without her say so.”

“Like that makes it okay Cas.” Dean said. “After what we’ve just been through-”

“Even if I hadn’t ended up agreeing,” Castiel cut him off. “She would’ve done it anyway.”

Crowley cleared his throat. “He?”

Castiel nodded. “As I said, only one angel would agree to it.”

Multiple emotions flickered across Crowley’ face. “Was she…has she…” He seemed unsure of how to phrase his question, frowning a little.

“Angels can’t claim pure bloods.” Castiel said and Crowley seemed to relax a little. “Although that doesn’t mean he can’t affect it somehow if he so desired, but as I said, she planned out everything.”

“She actually wrote up a contract?” When Castiel nods, Sam frowns. “I mean, I know Y/N’s smart and all but a contract is a big deal.”

“I read it.” Castiel said. “There was nothing that could be used against her. She made him sign it and everything.”

Their eyes fell on Crowley.

“Don’t look at me.” He said quickly. “I kept her well and truly out of Hell’s business. Like I was going to let her see any of that.”

“Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that Abaddon has her.” Castiel cut off Sam and Dean as they went question Crowley. “It just means that she’s not alone in it.”

“Hardly changes much at all.” Crowley growls. “You still lost Y/N and you’re not getting out of that one feathers, so if you don’t mind-”

“If you’d been helping us in the first place, then we’d already have the blade by now.” Dean snarled. “We could be on our way to killing Abaddon. Like it or not Crowley, you’re stuck with us till we get it, then we can go and save Y/N.”

“I could just-”

“You’re a mess Crowley,” Sam said. “You look like you’re more likely to burst into tears than save her.”

Crowley purses his lips. “Well, excuse me for being terrified for the woman I love.” With that, he vanishes, making Dean curse.

Sam and Castiel stared at where he’d been.

“Did he really just say that?” Sam asked.

Castiel nods. “I told you so.”

In all the time you had been with Sam and Dean, you had never once not expected them to turn up and save the day, and yet, as the weeks dragged on, that thought kept creeping in more and more. Crowley, you could understand, you knew as soon as he turned up, Abaddon wouldn’t hesitate to kill you, and you had little doubt that he knew this too.

But Sam and Dean, even Castiel, hell, even your father, you’d been expecting something by now.

Not that you hadn’t made your own attempts, came close once too, but that just meant Abaddon tightened your security.

And the torture.

The first thing she had done was get rid of the necklace that Crowley had given you, crumbling it into dust before you, then the torture had begun. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t deal with to begin with, small moments so that she didn’t wear you down too quickly. After all, she wanted you to last until she got her hands on Crowley.

You had never thought that anyone could talk more than Crowley, but already on several occasions, you had brazenly told her to shut up, tiring of hearing her voice.

This usually resulted in more torture.

You were almost in a constant state of pain now, bloody and bruised, your tongue constantly brushing the annoying split on your lip, but it didn’t stop you from attempting to make her life as difficult as possible.

The angel, Amrobel, wasn’t much use to you either, certainly not like you’d hoped. Suddenly thrown in the thick of it, he didn’t want his presence known. You’d called him a few names by now, but it did nothing to change his mind, just made him keep saying that he would help when it was really needed.

You weren’t overly sure that he would.

So you focused on doing this on your own.

It wasn’t easy, but for the most part you kept it together, which surprised you considering everything that had happened. Of course, it was making you wonder when your world would snap, but each time you fought the thought off. You couldn’t afford to be thinking like that, it would lead you down a road you didn’t want to go.

It was soon put from your mind when Abaddon said she had Crowley.

Scowling at the demon that shoved you unceremoniously into the room, you found yourself pushed into a lounge, your hands tied and glaring at an amused Abaddon on the other side of the room.

“I wouldn’t be paying attention to me sweetheart.” She said through a grin.

You don’t even flinch, keeping your gaze on her. “Crowley.”

“Hello love,” Crowley said, matching the calmness in your tone, despite the concern in his gaze as his eyes took in your appearance, the dark bruising under your eyes, the cut in your lip, and the rawness on your wrists from being tied so long. “Nice of you to join us.”

You snort. “Glad to be here.” You glance over at him, noticing another man looking on curiously. “Who’s your friend?”

Crowley hesitates but scowls upon seeing Abaddon’s amusement. “This is Gavin.”

This brought your gaze away from Abaddon fully, frowning at Crowley. “As in your son, Gavin?”

“The one and only.” Crowley said as Gavin looks surprised.

“You talk about me?” He asked.

“Reluctantly.” You and Crowley said together, earning a smirk from you and an annoyed look from him.

It had been somewhat of an argument at the time, you had wanted to know more about him, and when he promised that you wouldn’t like, it just made you all the more determined to know.

Eventually, he had told you, and while you certainly didn’t like most of it, you still never left.

You never answered his question as to why either.

“And you’re not questioning how I got here?” Gavin asked.

You raised an eyebrow and then glanced back at Abaddon, who was simply still watching. “Trust me, right now, that is the very least of my issues.”

“It’s going to be fine Y/N.” Crowley said quickly and a lot more firmly than what he believed.

You gave a small smile, feeling your lip split again and you subconsciously licked it. It was hard to tell because of the bruising under your eyes, but you were so tired, just holding on, and Crowley’s words didn’t really help.

“Unless you have a trick up your sleeve right at this very moment, I don’t think it will be.” You said calmly. “In fact, I’m surprised she’s waited this long.”

Abaddon’s smile widened as your gaze returned to her. “What can I say, it’s more fun watching you both suffer.”

“Oh good, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” You said, not hiding the sarcasm or venom in your voice. “What don’t you just beat me up a few more times, just for the fun of it?”

“Don’t tempt me girl, you’ve been a right pain in my arse these last few weeks.” She growled, the smile fading.

“You shouldn’t work with idiots then.” You said smugly. “If they can’t recognise an exorcism when they hear one, that’s their fault.”

“Clearly you think you’re such a smart little thing.” Abaddon said coldly. “And yet you are still the one sitting there in chains.”

You didn’t need the reminder, your wrists raw from the rubbing. “What can I say, I don’t like bullies.”

Abaddon scoffed before she laughed. “Oh my God, you do actually realise that you are dating the supposed King of Hell? Who happens to torture people for a living?”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” You rolled your eyes as she scowled. “Why does everyone insist on pointing that out? I think I’m very much aware of it. As for why, my reasons are my own, ones I certainly don’t have to explain to you.”

Abaddon leant over you, her hands resting either side of your head. You didn’t move, despite the invasion of space, the hairs on the back of your neck rising, holding her gaze.

“I’m going to take great satisfaction in taking your life,” Her voice was low, threatening. “Because despite complaints of me talking too much, that’s all you seem to do.”

“I got tired of staying quiet when others were talking so much bullshit.” You said. “And lately, I’ve heard way too much of it, so get out my face you black eyed bitch before I show you precisely how ready I am to die.”

Abaddon’s eyes narrowed on you even as you saw Crowley tense at the edge of your vision, but she stepped away.

Gavin whistled. “Now that’s a keeper.”

You frowned slightly even as Crowley sighed, rolling his eyes. With a snap of his fingers, Gavin was thrown back into a bedroom, the door closing shut.

“His timing was never brilliant.” He grumbled.

You were about to say something back when pain exploded from within you and you screamed, arching off the chair.

It was momentary, Abaddon releasing you as you breathed hard, Crowley’s face twisting in anger and panic.

“Speak again and I will made sure that your death is good and slow.” Abaddon growled low, her eyes flashing black at you.

You glared at her, but didn’t speak.

She looked amused. “Maybe I should’ve done that a long time ago, would’ve saved me a lot of headaches.”

“She doesn’t need to be a part of this Abaddon.” Crowley snarled. “Your issue is with me and-“

“Which is precisely why she is a part of it.” Abaddon said. “Or what? Didn’t think there’d be any consequences with having a pure blood? How idiotic can you be Crowley?”

“You know if you just-“ You screamed again as pain seared through your body until Abaddon let you go, making you gasp for air, trying to get yourself back in control.

“I told you not to speak.” She said lightly. “So unless you want your tongue ripped out and fed to you, on top of the pain, I suggest listening.”

“Please love,” Crowley kept his tone empty, but as you looked at him, his eyes were practically begging for you to stop. “No need to keep getting yourself hurt.”

Your eyes burned with fury, but you bit your tongue, being in no hurry to be in pain again.

“Not that it matters anyway,” Abaddon said. “Because I’m growing very tired of this little game, and with the Winchester’s already on their way, there’s not much else she’s really needed for.”

You tensed, but remained silent, avoiding Crowley’s eye. You had to believe that the boys would have a plan, that things were going to be okay. That belief was the only thing that was keeping you from begging for your life.

“Of course, just killing you would be boring.” She examined her nails. “I think there’s something much more interesting I can do.”

Your eyes go wide as you realise what she meant and Crowley went to leap off of his seat, a gun appearing in Abaddon’s hand and firing as you shouted.

Crowley clutched his shoulder, but couldn’t move.

“Devil’s trap bullet.” Abaddon said with a grin. “You can thank the Winchester’s later.”

Panic started to grip you as Abaddon faced you, eyeing you up and down, and you began to fight against the wrist bindings.

Warmth blossomed in your chest and for a moment you thought the panic had led to something worse, but then you were suddenly pulled back into yourself.

“No.” Amrobel spoke quietly, his eyes blazing through yours. “You will do no such thing to her demon.”

Abaddon grins as Crowley looks horrified. “Well, well, the little girl has some smarts after all. Still won’t mean much against me.”

Amrobel healed the wounds on your body, making the binding disappear as well. “Y/N is a very prepared individual, very brave, very strong of heart, so if you think any more than what you have already done will be permitted, you would be very wrong to think it would be easy.”

She snorts. “Aww, is the baby angel underestimating me?”

“You are a Knight of Hell, I am not foolish.” He said calmly. “But what you intend to do to her cannot be done, not truly.”

“Is that so?”

“A true claiming requires permission.” He glances at Crowley, who’s expression hadn’t changed. “Something that she has no intention of giving.”

“Oh really? And how does the baby angel know this?” Abaddon scoffs. “For all I know, you want her for yourself.”

Amrobel screws his face up in disgust. “An angel cannot claim a pure blood. It is against our very nature to do so.”

“Really?” Abaddon asked. “And who made up that rule I wonder? None of you have ever gotten curious as to what would happen?”

“No.” He said firmly. “We are guardians to them, not takers. The only exceptions were the archangels, but on word from our father, even they wouldn’t dare.”

“Bunch of goodie two shoes.” Abaddon rolls her eyes. “Do you even realise what sort of power is sitting at your fingertips?”

“Very aware.” Amrobel said. “Which is why we are sworn to protect them from the likes of you.”

“And I suppose you intend to stop me?” Abaddon laughs. “Oh baby angel, you have another thing coming.”

Amrobel smiles though. “Oh, it is not me you must worry about.”

Dean walked into the room then, the first blade in hand.

You watched with wide eyes through Amrobel as Dean took on Abaddon, you saw what the first blade allowed him to do, and as much as you were pissed at him, you couldn’t help the fear that rose up on his behalf, wondering exactly what he had put himself through to get like this.

“He has taken a great risk in doing this, in more ways than one.” Amrobel said to you. “But it has also made him a much greater threat to you.”

“I can handle Dean.” You growled to him. “Now, do you mind letting me back out?”

“No, it is currently safer for you there.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to argue, but too locked on Dean and Abaddon to try.

When Dean actually killed her, you found yourself frozen in shock, not having really believed that he could actually do it, Sam bursting into the room to stop him from continuing his tirade.

“Demon’s never learn.” Amrobel said, shaking his head, earning Sam and Dean’s gaze.

“Amrobel?” Sam asked, causing him to nod. “Right. Do you mind if we have Y/N back so we know she’s okay?”

“She is fine.” He said calmly and then glances and Dean and Crowley. “But at the moment, she is still safer where she is.”

“I doubt that,” Crowley growls, his fingers digging in his shoulder for the bullet. “Why don’t you just flutter off and leave her be?”

“Because I must do my duty,” Amrobel said. “And seeing as her guardian is nowhere to be found, that means I must protect her from you.”

“Yeah, great,” Dean scowled. “Protect her from him but do it out of her body.”

Amrobel shakes his head. “This is the safest place to protect her, and me.”

Crowley lets out a string of curses. “Get the hell out of her!”

“You made a deal with her Amrobel.” Sam said. “I’m pretty sure she won’t like this.”

“I did, and she is not liking this, however, assessing the real situation has been different.” He nods to Crowley. “Especially with him. He is lucky I don’t smite him on the spot.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Crowley growled, his eyes flashing red for a moment. “Now get out of her before I make you.”

“I’m going to make sure she’s far away from all of you before I even consider such a thing.” He frowned at Sam and Dean. “I thought you’d understand that.”

“Yeah, when you’re not being a dick about it.” Dean growled, stepping forward, blade in hand. “So why don’t you-”

“Do you intend to use that on me?” He asked, looking at the blade. “You talk about protecting and yet you know that would kill her to.”

“Chance I’m willing to take right now.” Dean snarled.

There was an odd moment of silence before Amrobel’s eyes went wide. “No!”

But it wasn’t directed at Dean, your head throwing back as you ejected Amrobel, Sam and Dean shielding their eyes.”

“Arsehole.” You gasped, leaning down on your knees, drawing in deep breathes. “Can’t believe…he thought…he could get away with that.”

Sam was by your side in a flash, taking your arm as you staggered. “Easy Y/N, you have to take it-”

“Thanks Sam, I get it.” You shrugged him off and stepped away. “But currently the last thing I want is help.”

Sam looked hurt, but doesn’t move as you stepped further away, breathing deep, trying to get your emotions under control. This had been the last straw, having Amrobel trying to keep you in check, and you were so close to just snapping that you could feel it physically hurting.

“Y/N-”

“I can’t Crowley.” Your voice broke. “I can’t stand this anymore.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” Dean growled. “After all you’ve put us through, we’re not just going to-”

“After all I’ve put you through?” You rounded on Dean, your eyes burning with fury. “How dare you Dean, how can you even say that!?”

“If you had just listened to us-”

“Listen to the men that wanted me worse than dead,” Your voice rose. “That sounds like a wondrous idea. I wonder what could’ve possibly have stopped me from doing it otherwise?”

“Sweetheart-”

Your eyes narrowed and your voice dropped. “Call me that again Winchester and I promise you’ll find that pretty little blade of yours through your throat.”

They stared at you, having never seen you like that before.

“This is where you back off Squirrel,” Crowley warned, trying harder to get the bullet out of his shoulder. “Because I have little doubt that she actually will.”

“Try me,” Dean growled, holding the blade tight. “I just killed that bitch there, I’m hardly going to see you as a threat.”

“Dean-”

“No Sammy, let her play this game. If she wants to do it, I’m certainly not going to stop her.” Dean snapped, his eyes not leaving you.

“She’s our friend Dean-”

“She’s dating Crowley-”

“What’s the matter Dean, jealous that someone got the idea to fuck me first?”

Dead silence fell as all three of them stared at you, your gaze cold on Dean, caution thrown to the wind, every emotion clear on your face.

“Why else would you agree to Y/F/N’s plan so quickly? Because it sure as hell wasn’t to protect me.”

Dean took an angry step forward. “Of course it was-”

“No, it wasn’t.” Your eyes flashed. “And frankly I’m over being told it is. I’m over all of it. So if you really want to keep advancing with that blade, go ahead.”

“Y/N,” Crowley pleaded. “Please…”

“I’ve lost my mother, found out things about myself I didn’t want to know, had my family turn on me, had those I considered family turn on me, is there anything else I’ve forgotten to make me want to have no had enough?” You snarled, taking a step closer, fury making your hands shake. “Go on Dean, I dare you.”

“Dean-”

“That arsehole you’ve been defending,” Dean cut in loudly over Sam, pointing back at Crowley, whose eyes went wide. “Was cheating on you while you were on the run. Is that what you wanted to hear Y/N? Is that what you wanted thrown on you too? Because this whole being the victim thing is getting old.”

You stared at Dean, your heart pounding, shock settling over you, not quite believing that he had said, and not wanting to believe what he had said.

Crowley appeared in front of you, breathing hard, and you stared at the back his head. “That's enough,” He growled. “You morons will leave her be.”

“If she hadn't-“

“I don't want to hear it.” Crowley hissed. “You boys have done enough. Y/N has had enough.”

You picked up on his tone right away, going to step closer. “Crowley don't you-“

“-dare.” You blinked and then cursed loudly, finding yourself in the large hotel suite. You stared around for a moment, only to find yourself alone.

You screamed, picking up the nearest object and throwing it at a wall, the vase shattering, but then you found you couldn't stop screaming, collapsing your knees and continuing until your voice broke and it hurt too much to keep going.

You gasped, resting against the floor, but no tears would come, too exhausted, too beyond feeling the pain that had settled around you. You could feel yourself shaking and clutched hard at the carpet, trying to reground yourself, trying to find a way through the pain.

Through bleary eyes, you managed to look up, the bathroom swimming before you and you staggered to your feet, using the walls and furniture to make it inside. You turned the shower on, hard and cold, wanting to feel anything but what your body was currently going through.

Curling up in the corner of the shower, you hugged your knees close to your chest and shut your eyes.

Crowley found you sometimes later, still curled up, shivering, under the cold water, but instead of getting you out, he joined you, pulling you into his arms. You just let him, not wanting to trust yourself to move, your body shuddering as one hand clutched him tightly, his presence grounding you more than what anything else had. Crowley was silent too, just holding you tight, resting his head against yours, clearly needing this as much as you.

The next morning, you awoke alone in the bed, clean pyjamas on, not really remembering falling asleep, just being in his arms under the cold of the shower. Rubbing your eyes, there was a small note on the bedside table and you sighed, deciding to ignore it.

You knew what it would say.

You ordered food, your stomach growling loudly, and while you waited, despite knowing better, you went and poured yourself a stiff drink. Blankly, you stared out the window as you waited for food, your body numb, the light was hurting your eyes, but it was still the least of your worries.

Eating made you feel sick and you picked at the food despite how hungry you felt. By the time you had forced yourself to clear the plate, the meal had been stone cold, leaving you still feeling hungry.

Grumbling, you filled up your glass again and then went and stretched out on the lounge, resting the cool glass against your head. It went back and forth like that for a couple of hours, you’d sit there, slowly finishing your drink, getting up to refill and sitting back down, closing your eyes once more.

Crowley returned after a while, but he didn’t say a word as he walked over to you and you moved your legs up out of the way as he joined you.

For a long moment, you both sat in silence.

Crowley was watching you, you could feel it even with your eyes closed, but you chose to ignore it.

“What are you doing love?” His voice was quiet, unsure.

“Drowning myself.” Your voice croaked and you winced, taking another drink.

He sighs. “I don’t blame you.”

Silence fell again and you finally opened your eyes, seeing him staring at his hands.

You licked your lips. “So…are we going to talk?”

He swallowed. “Are you up for it?”

“No, but it’s not like my situation is going to get much worse.” You took another drink, trying to ease the hoarseness of your voice. “Plus…” You left it hanging, realising you didn’t want to say it.

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly, still not looking back at you. “This…I…” Crowley scowled at himself. “I have no excuse love. To say the least, I have not been managing this well.” He paused.  “I never actually thought that I would be able to truly feel again, but this whole human blood…thing, it’s been difficult, and everything feels ten times stronger than what I remember it ever being.”

You remain silent, watching him as he thinks for a moment.

“I should’ve been better, I know that.” He said quietly. “You deserved better. You never should’ve gone through all that, no matter what you had said, I should’ve come and found you,” He shudders. “But I was scared Y/N. Seeing you after Sam’s failed attempt…I had never been so overwhelmed by things before, and I didn’t know how to take it. I didn’t know how to handle it. So I ran from it, I tried to do anything to rid myself of those feelings but instead it just seemed to make it worse.”

Crowley let out a slow breath, finally looking up to meet your gaze, his eyes shining. “Seeing you again, being so strong even after what Abaddon had done…done who knows what to you, I realised how wrong I had been through all this, and I had never regretted things more-”

“Stop.” Your voice was quiet, but firm, and you held his gaze, making Crowley flinch. “The sorry was enough.”

“What?” Crowley asked. “After all that-”

You sigh heavily. “Crowley…I don’t want to beat yourself up. Please. I see, and put up with, a lot of others doing that to you already. The sorry was enough.”

He frowns. “Love, you should angry with me-”

“I am.” You said with a small smile. “But I’m angry at a lot of things right now, so I’m not going to throw all of that on you. You don’t deserve that.”

“You are too good to me.” Crowley breathed. “You are too good for me and I really don’t know how you have put up with me for so long.”

“You asked me and I said yes.” You kept the small smile, but finished your drink, placing the empty glass by your side. “Now come here.”

Crowley stared at you as you shifted on the lounge, making room for him and then holding your arms open. Cautiously, he moved over to you, lying next to you and you didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him.

“Please Crowley…”

He sighed and relaxed against you, his head resting against your chest, and you both shifted a little until you were comfortable. For the first time, you felt a strong tug of Crowley’s emotions, similar to what he felt from you, and it made you realise that he needed you as much as you needed him.

“You don’t have to do this love…” He mumbled against you.

Your fingers trailed into his hair, gently brushing them through. “I know, but just shup and enjoy it.”

He chuckles weakly and then you felt him shaking, so you tightened your grip, and quickly realised that you were crying too, everything finally starting to come up, overflowing into shuddering breathes.

Night had returned by the time Crowley moved and he pulled away from you slightly, his eyes a little puffy, matching yours, and he looked down at you, wonder in his gaze as you brushed his cheek. “I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat but Crowley didn’t give you a chance to really think about, placing his lips on yours for a moment, letting you let out a shaky breath as he pulled away slightly.

In that moment, you knew words wouldn’t be enough.

You pulled him back to you in a hard kiss, one that made your teeth click painfully, but you didn’t care, the kiss quickly becoming deep, passionate, saying everything that you couldn’t put voice to.

But Crowley broke away again, his forehead resting against yours and you both caught your breath. “I need to hear you say it Y/N. I need to know.”

You whimper a little, your arms wrapping around his neck as your body shook. “I love you Crowley.”

With a half groan, half growl, he returned the kiss, his arms snaking around you, keeping you pressed to him and you knew that you needed this now more than anything.

“I’m yours Crowley.” You breathed into the kiss. “Always will be…and don't say anything, because I knew what I was getting into the day I said yes.”

Crowley brushed your nose with his. “And I love you all the more for it.” He grinned. “Despite still wanting a proper answer.”

“Is it not enough that I love you?” You asked softly. “Must I always have an explanation?”

He stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “No love, if you can live with me and what I am, then I can ask no more of you.”

“Good.” You pulled him back to you, wanting nothing more than to just be with him tonight.

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

Slowly, the kissing grew more heated until you sighed into him, squirming a little.

Crowley grinned against your lips and with a yelp from you, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you over to the bed.

“Crowley-“

“I'm not about to let our first time be on the lounge love.”

Your face flushed. “But-“

“Demon.” He swept you into a kiss. “Now, do you want to do this?”

“Yes.” You breathed into the kiss.

Crowley kept you in the kiss as he got to the bed, pausing only to kick off his shoes as he lowered you both down, lying next to you. You shivered under his touch as his hands lightly travelled under your shirt, brushing up along your stomach until he reached your breasts, where he paused, breaking the kiss.

“Love,” You blinked up at him. “Why are you wearing a bra under your pyjamas? I certainly didn’t do that.”

“You’re really going to ask that now?” You said, even as your face flushed. “Crowley, you know I’m damned self-conscious.”

He looked at you, his gaze gentle even as he smirked. “Well, let’s change that shall we?”

You didn’t get much of a chance to think about what that meant before he returned to kissing you, quickly distracting you, his tongue teasing your lips before you granted him entrance.

After a moment, you realised that he was taking his time unbuttoning your shirt and you shifted, intending to help, except his hands quickly caught your hands, kissing them softly before placing them back around his neck.

“Please love, let me. I want to do this right.” You pout a little, making him chuckle and kiss the tip of your nose. “For someone who is self-conscious, you are awfully eager to get them off.”

Your face burned and you shifted a little uncomfortably, your body aching with need that you didn’t even want to begin to try and describe. “Crowley, I-”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation.

“Then trust me,” He said softly, his hands returning to the buttons, hovering for a moment. “Trust me with you.”

It dawned on you finally on what he was truly asking and you bit your lip a little before giving a nod.

He smiled and gently kissed you at first, a thanking, loving kiss, before the heat returned. You moaned into the kiss, still wanting more even as his fingers worked, but knowing that he needed to do this, not just for you, but for himself as well.

You sat up a little, letting him slipped the shirt from your shoulders, it quickly disappearing somewhere in the room before his hands returned to you, continuing their gentle touch, memorising your body, making you moan softly, your hands clenching at his jacket.

With a grin against your lips, he let you slip his jacket off, then letting your hands move to his tie, tugging it free, before finally starting on his shirt. He broke the kiss as you did and started down your jaw, distracting you completely as he nuzzled into your throat, earning a breathy huff, one of your hands slipping into his hair.

Crowley chuckled, kissing up to your ear to give it a nip. “This always got you hot quick.”

You growl a little, giving his hair a slight tug as he nipped your ear again. “How many times have you infuriated me by doing it?”

“I will do it as long as you keep making those noise love.” He breathed and scrapped his teeth down your throat, making you groan, arching into him, where he quickly used the opportunity to sneak his hands under you, unclipping your bra and slipping it off you.

You knew were exposed, but as his hand gently cupped your breast, you suddenly didn’t care, wanting to keep feeling this, wanting Crowley to take you where you had never been before and wanting to forget everything of the last few months.

He moved over you as his kisses continued down your throat to your collarbone, gently easing your legs apart with his knees, allowing him to settle. You let out a small whimper as he began kissing your other breast before a sharp gasp let you as he took your nipple in his mouth.

A moan left you and you arched up into his mouth and hand, wanting more, his name leaving your mouth as he bit lightly, causing a growl to leave him, swapping his mouth over to your other breast and to rock his hips gently into you, his hardened length pressing against your core, making you bite back another moan, your hips bucking involuntarily.

You were breathing hard by the time he decided to move on, shooting you a grin as he started kissing down your stomach, kissing or touching every inch of skin he could until he came to your pants.

He looked up at you again, his eyes asking a single question, one you simply raised your hips to, even as a nervousness fell over you.

Your pants gone, Crowley’s eyes travelled along your body, his hand resting on your hips, licking his lips a little. “Beautiful…”

You bit your lip, holding his gaze as he lowered his lips to you once more, continuing the rest of the way down your stomach, his hands massaging your thighs. He paused for a moment, seeming to grow frustrated with feeling own shirt on, and it was quickly tossed aside before his lips started on your thighs.

You gave a small groan, your head pressing back into the pillow, feeling as if your body was burning, every movement he made making it worse.

Crowley chuckled, starting a path back up your other leg. “Something you need love?”

You huffed. “You.”

Another growl left him and he nipped your thigh. “Good.”

As he continued further down your thigh towards your core, you felt yourself shudder, anticipation flooding you, making you whimper and strain a little against his hands which had returned to your hips.

“Crowley…” You pleaded.

His breath brushed over your core, causing you breath to hitch as you looked down at him, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your hips as he waited for you, a smirk on his lips as he saw the need in you gaze.

You bit your lip, knowing why he waited, wanting your permission. “Just tell me if you want to stop love.”

You nod, your hands clenching at the sheets. “Please Crowley.”

In three quick kisses, his mouth was on you, a hum going through him as you gasped at the sensation, whimpering as his tongue flicked through, tasting you. His hum turned into groan and you felt yourself tugged forward slightly, his fingers digging into your hips, pinning you to the bed.

Your head threw back, moaning as his tongue circled your clit. You desperately wanted to move, but Crowley's grip was firm, allowing only your back to arch and your hands to tighten in the sheets.

“Oh fuck...” Your groan, your nerve endings on fire, made even more so as Crowley growled, the vibrations making you buck, your muscles twitching as pressure built in your lower stomach. You tried to fight the feeling, whimpering as it seemed to just continue to build.

Crowley broke away for a second adjusting his position so that one hand was flat across your stomach, keeping you pinned, the other moving to one of your trembling hands, entwining it with his. “Don't fight it Y/N...”

Using his hand as your lifeline, you found yourself whimpering and moaning his name, your chest heaving, trying to keep in control, until it hit. His name tumbled loudly from your lips, mixed with curses, as your back arched, your muscles spasming, heat blossoming from your core. Your knuckles turned white holding his hand and you continued to curse as he didn't stop, keeping you high until you whined in desperation to come down.

Shudders left you as you collapsed back onto the bed, his tongue still occasionally brushing over your entrance, making you gasp and shiver. You drew in deep breathes, trying to get back into focus, still holding firmly to his hand.

Crowley gave a low chuckle, his voice hoarse with desire. “Need a minute love?”

“Ass.” Was all you could get out, making him chuckle again and softly kiss your thigh.

“I could stay here all night love,” He kissed your mound delicately, making you shiver. “You are divine.”

“I think that would possibly kill me.” You said thickly, finally feeling your body coming down. “Fuck.”

“Don't think I'm done yet love,” You looked down at him, making him grin, your face flushed and eyes heavy. “I've got to make sure you're ready for me.”

You shiver, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be filled by him, the very thought leaving you panting a little.

Crowley's grin widened as he tugged his hand free from yours, moving to place both your legs over his shoulders, nipping your thighs as his hands moved to cup and squeeze your arse, lifting your hips from the bed.

Anticipation flooded you as you sunk back, watching him down your body, making him groan.

“Should've done this months ago.” He said and returned his mouth to you with a deep sweeping of his tongue, instantly making you buck and gasp, your body now extra sensitive.

Crowley had no intention of just sticking to his mouth this time though, one hand caressing up your arse before joining his mouth at your core. You moan as his fingers slide through your folds, opening you up for his tongue, your body twitching as he teased your entrance.

“Crowley!” You gasped, his fingers moving to slip one inside you, causing you both to moan, your hips bucking, wanting more.

His moan turned to a low growl that rumbled deep through his chest, possessive, as he pushed a second finger inside of you, pumping them steadily. “So hot and wet for me. Mine and no one else's.”

“Yours...” You said breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut as he continued, totally enraptured by the movement of his fingers and mouth.

It didn't take much before you felt the pressure building again, Crowley's fingers curling inside you, hitting a spot that left you gasping, grinding into him, your heels digging into his back. The same growl rumbled through him, lifting you a little higher, applying more pressure into your core.

You opened your eyes, intending to watch him, only to find your breath caught in your throat. Crowley's gaze was locked onto you, his eyes red, burning with desire, and with a final thrust of his fingers, you came undone. Your world swam as your body arched into him, his name screamed from your lips as he suddenly sucked your clit into his mouth, doubling the intensity of your orgasm. Black spot appeared before your eyes, your thighs squeezing around his head, and you came even harder as a second orgasm suddenly gripped you.

Your world swam a little before finally coming back around. You found Crowley kissing a slow path back up your body, his eyes back to normal as they met yours, causing to him to smirk. “Are you alright love?”

Still breathing hard, you nod, not game enough to try and move to see if your body still worked, your legs feeling very limp.

He kissed lightly up the valley between your breasts, to your throat, before his lips grazed over yours. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, taking his face between your hands and bringing him in for a deeper kiss, moaning softly at the taste of yourself still on his tongue. “Don't stop.” You muttered against his lips. “Please don't stop.”

A low rumble went through him as he shifted, his hands starting to undo his belt. You used the distraction to kiss along his jaw and start down his throat, emboldened by your need for him, your eyes trail down his chest.

Crowley cursed. “Y/N, you want me out of these pants properly, then you-” A strangled groan left him as your teeth scraped teasingly down his throat.

You smirked. “Looks like I'm not the only one that affects.”

He growled but didn't stop you from continuing, instead his hands growing more desperate as he tugged at his pants. He was distracted again as your hands tugged into the waist band and he had to quickly pull them away with another muttered curse and pin them above your head, recapturing your lips in a searing kiss.

“If I let you do that, I can guarantee that I will come undone.” He growled and then frustratingly snapped his fingers, his pants vanishing, and he gave a strained sigh of relief as he was freed.

“That was all I wanted to do, you looked like you were struggling.” You smile at him, making him give a huffed laugh.

“I'm sure.” He lowered himself to you, just brushing your entrance with his length, making your breathing quicken.

“Would I lie to you?” You asked softly.

“If you had to.” He lightly kissed you. “This is your last chance to back out love.”

You tugged at your wrists, still being held by one of his hands. “Let me go.”

Frowning slightly, he did as you asked, but you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss, a groan rumbling through him as he settled against you, rubbing himself against your entrance, making your hips rise slightly, wanting more friction as you moan softly into him.

Without breaking the kiss, he reached between you, guiding himself to your entrance, where he paused to look down at you.

“I will go slow,” He promised. “If you need me to-“

“Crowley,” You silenced him, placing your fingers over his lips. “I trust you.”

Gratefulness passed over his gaze and he kissed you again before starting to ease into you. It was uncomfortable, feeling your body trying to accommodate his size, but not unpleasant. Crowley, true to his word, went slow, his gaze not leaving you as he entered, pausing at any sign of pain and waiting till you adjusted. Twice he had to pull out, giving your body a chance to rest for a moment, before trying again.

It seemed to take a while, but finally, he was fully sheathed inside you, both of you trembling a little as you hummed in pleasure, feeling incredibly full.

Crowley peppered kisses down your cheek and neck. “So tight...”

You knew he needed this as much as you, so you gave a testing roll of your hips into him, making him groan and hurried to catch your lips with his.

Crowley started slowly, pulling himself out about half way before easing himself back in, making you both moan into the kiss. Steadily it built up into a shallow rhythm, that had you both panting slightly.

“More.” You pleaded, your arms securely around his neck as you let him control the pace, your teeth nibbling his jaw.

He captured your lips again with a growl and slid himself almost all the way out, your body shuddering at the feeling, before he pushed all the way back in, making you gasp at the slight roughness of it, pleasure curling through you.

“Y/N-“

“Don't stop.” You breathed as he paused. “My god Crowley, don't stop.”

It didn't take long before you were clinging to him tightly, whimpering with every rock into your body, his teeth working your neck, making sure that they left a mark as he growled with every hard press of your fingers into his back. You couldn’t know that every noise you made was testing his control, his hands shaking as he caressed your sides, soothing the sting from his teeth with his tongue and lips, but when his name came whimpered from your lips, his resolve almost snapped.

With a heavy groan, his hands dug into your thighs, lifting them and getting you to hook them around his waist, the change of angle having you crying sharply into him, your heels digging in as your body shuddered.

His lips found your ear, making you moan, the desperation in his voice clear. “Please love…”

You simply hold him tighter, your breathing laboured as he started to move faster, your nails digging in, and Crowley growled. With a grunt, one of his hands knots in your hair, roughly tugging it so he can crush your mouth to his, shifting his other hand down to your clit, your cry muffled against his lips, as within a few strokes, the coil building inside you snapped.

Your mind blanked as your body arched, a silent scream on your lips as your body tensed, a lot stronger than before, intensifying still as his hips continue to meet yours, steadily losing his rhythm. Crowley groaned, his arm wrapping around you, your name tumbling from his lips as his hips jerk a final time and his teeth sink hard into your shoulder, joining you over the edge, your bodies rocking together, the hold on each other bruising.

Slowly, you both relaxed, breathing hard, letting yourselves come down.

You recovered first, your legs slipping from his waist, dropping heavily to the bed as one hand slid up his neck to run gently through his hair, turning your head to place soft kisses against him, your body buzzing and aching. Crowley shifted, tilting his head so his lips can meet yours in slightly breathless kisses as he carefully moved his weight off you, sliding out of you, causing you both to shiver.

Your eyes were shining as he looked down at you and you smiled at him, your hand brushing his cheek, making him lean into you with a soft moan, his hand capturing yours.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

You nodded. “Of course.” Your voice made you wince, hoarse from the strenuous use from the last couple of days. “Despite what I sound like.”

He chuckled lightly and kissed you again. “You sound perfect to me.”

“Perfectly unable to talk properly.” You grumbled and then stretched, your body protesting, but you didn’t miss Crowley’s look over you, causing you to smirk. “Haven’t seen enough?”

Crowley snorts, his eyes flashing red briefly as he grins. “You have no idea what else I want to do to you love.”

“I’m sure after that display I can hazard a few guesses.” You laughed though, the weight of what had happened temporarily lifted from your shoulders. “But right now, I think I’m slightly more interested in feeling clean.”

Before you could say anything, Crowley scooped you into his arms again, making you squeal, throwing your arms around his neck as he laughed. “Relax love, I’ve got you.”

“Some warning would be nice.” You grumbled a little as he carried you to the bathroom.

He hummed, not hiding his amusement. “Besides, I think I hot shower is in order this time, unless you want a bath?”

You settled against his shoulder, feeling tired. “Both sound good.”

Crowley kissed you temple. “As my lady demands.”

You smile, content, feeling happier and safer than what you had in a long time.

[kingofthewilderwest]

Hey there, Haddock! I hope you're doing well! Here's a Madoka Magica AU question I've had in my head for a long time (if u can't answer that's totally ok) : if the Dragon Riders were to form contracts with Kyubey and henceforth become magical girls and magical boys, what do you think their wishes would be? Also, what kind of thing would make them despair enough to turn into witches? Like, how would their wishes backfire? Thank u so much and have a great day!

Oh my goodness yuuuuuus this is great.

I think one of the challenging things is that lots of these dragon riding individuals aren’t at a stage in their life where they might do something so brash as make a contract with Kyubey. While some of the characters enter a contract with little deliberation, it is to note that others at least think their choice is very important, or they recognize that becoming a magical girl is an enormous step. So along with the idea of what their wishes would be, I feel like I also have to analyze what motivations they would have to form a contract with Kyubey. And though we’re going to ignore gender, I’m also going to try to keep the youths in their younger teenaged years - no twenty-year-old Hiccup making a wish about his father, since he would be a bit too old to be under Kyubey’s attention at this point.

Hiccup: Become a Respected Dragon Fighter

Hiccup as he appears in the first HTTYD film is undergoing the unpleasant challenge of feeling excluded and unwanted in his society. This sort of feeling that he doesn’t belong is what prompts Hiccup to do some pretty dangerous choices in the movie. He’s willing to go so far as to create his own inventions and try to hunt down dragons - despite the dangers - in hopes he can bring one of the beasts down and prove his worth. If Hiccup is so desperate that he is going to charge into the middle of a dragon attack, then he might be so desperate that he could make a contract with Kyubey.

While Hiccup’s lost mother is a source of sadness for him, I feel as what would be most pressing on his mind is the fact that he is socially outcast on Berk. That’s what gets him motivated to charge as he does in the canon film, after all. Kyubey offering Hiccup a contract for him to be a powerful magical boy could thus have some appeal for him at this stage of life. In fact, it could even be a double whammy of “success” for Hiccup. He could make a wish in which he could become a powerful dragonslayer and his fellow Hooligans could admire him. Then, additionally, Hiccup could gain great power by fighting witches. Not only can he take down dragons, but he has the unique capabilities of taking out enemies no one else can. Hiccup can best foes that even his father can’t!

While I wish I could say that Hiccup would be smart enough to be suspicious of Kyubey’s offer, I do want to point out several things. First, Kyubey is masterfully manipulative. Kyubey does an amazing job of selling his side of the story, manipulating girls into fighting witches for his ends. If Kyubey can manipulate some hesitant and thoughtful girls into fighting witches, then what’s to say he can’t convince Hiccup? Hiccup is smart… but so is Kyubey. Second, Hiccup is very smart, but he’s also a bit impulsive. The fact that Hiccup does make impulsive decisions means that he could charge into this danger without fully evaluating what Kyubey might be up to. Hiccup could see this as an opportunity to finally get his life together and become respected… and I could see this as motivation enough for him to take the offer, make the contract, and become a magical boy.

Now, exactly how Hiccup’s wish plays out, we don’t know. There are multiple ways I could see it going. But I imagine it likely will center around Hiccup being shown to be a great dragon fighter to the rest of his people.

Further down Hiccup’s life, we could explore how his relationship with Toothless could influence his wish to Kyubey, but I think that here, when we first meet the kid in HTTYD, is where he’s at his most vulnerable and most likely to accept an offer from Kyubey.

Snotlout: Wealthiest Individual in the Archipelago

After Hiccup, I have a harder time evaluating what the wishes will be. There are a number of factors to consider. For Snotlout, I imagine that he does have enough struggles in his life to make a wish about personal challenges. His conflict with his father, for instance, is no easy experience. However, here’s the thing: Snotlout has some problems, especially young in life, realizing how much of a problem his father’s authority is to him. Snotlout in episodes like “Race to Fireworm Island” will show some respect for what his father says, even if what his father says is not conducive to a good familial relationship. So while Snotlout could have the potential for a number of heartfelt wishes to Kyubey, there’s the fact that he might not recognize he should even be asking those things.

For this reason, I almost wonder if Snotlout’s wish ends up being something “shallow.” I’m inclined to say that Snotlout asks for great riches. We see that Snotlout is a greedy character - he finds great interest in riches, will get distracted by them, and will be more inclined to stay in danger if the result is saving those riches. Snotlout even tries to sell things he shouldn’t to gain wealth. Since Snotlout does demonstrate that constant interest in wealth, and it is something that would pop into his head as something he could receive from a contract, I could imagine that Snotlout asks for all the trinkets and gold and monetary gain he could get from Kyubey. Snotlout might just ask to be the richest person in the archipelago. Good enough for him.

Oh, and being able to fight witches? Sounds like a good thing for him to brag about. The ladies are going to fawn over him with all the great stories he can tell of being a legendary warrior, right?  

Fishlegs: Saving Someone’s (or Some Dragon’s) Life

I’ll be honest - it would take a lot for Fishlegs to become a magical boy. A LOT. Fishlegs doesn’t prefer adventure - he often complains when entering danger, and only chooses to enter danger when he sees it is what must be done. Fishlegs would hear about fighting witches as a magical boy… and he wouldn’t just be disinterested in the role. He would find the job outright unappealing. This would be the last sort of thing he would want to voluntarily do!

It means that I suspect the only guaranteed way for Fishlegs to choose to be a magical boy is if he gets into a horrific scrape in life and uses his wish to get out of that scrape. Fishlegs would potentially not use the wish on himself, but he would use it on the people he cares most about. If Meatlug is dying, or his mother, or something grim like that, then Fishlegs might in this moment choose to sacrifice his normal life to keep the other alive. Anything short of that, though, and I think Fishlegs could not be reliably convinced to take the job. As much as he loves knowledge and books and hot tubs and the finer things of life… he’d easily know that a bargain like the one with Kyubey wouldn’t be worth it.

So Kyubey would have a lot of work cut out for him. Maaaaaaaaybe Kyubey could convince Fishlegs that the fight for witches is dire enough that Fishlegs has to join the fight. But I still think there would be hesitance, “no way not me,” and the like. Fishlegs isn’t selfish and he does fight when it’s necessary, but I think he’d be smart enough to figure out he isn’t the ideal warrior, and thus waffle about this for a long time, if he ever chose to take the contract. Personal tragedy would be the sure way to force him into the role.

Astrid: Something about Restoring Family Honor

Astrid is a tricky one, but one area of insecurity we do see for her is that she is uncomfortable with her family’s tarnished heritage. After Fearless Finn Hofferson froze at the sight of the Flightmare, the Hoffersons received a bad reputation. This in turn might have fueled Astrid’s motivation (at least in part) to excel so much in Dragon Training in the first HTTYD. Astrid’s love for her family is also exhibited in the RTTE episode Astrid’s Team, in which her family being in danger is so critically important to her that she chooses to leave behind her dragon riding companions to protect the island. Family is important to her.

I will suggest - though I’m not 100% convinced - that something along the means of restoring her family honor could be where she plants her wish with Kyubey. I think this could play out several ways: 1. All of her family members are made more honorable as per her wish, 2. She simply chooses to fight as a magical girl, and that fight alone is what she believes shall restore honor, or 3. Her being recognized as a powerful warrior in Berk is the wish and that helps restore honor because - now that she’s a big deal on Berk - the Hooligans aren’t going to pay attention to the old stories of Finn. So there are variations of a theme.

Regardless of how exactly the wish plays out (screw it, it could even just be a wish that her other family members stay safe), I do think that Astrid’s motivation for becoming a magical girl is easier to identify. Astrid is someone who believes in fighting the fight. In the first HTTYD, she berates Hiccup for not having his head in the game - their parents’ fight is about to become theirs, and that is important to her. There is no time to fool around. If Astrid hears that something as dangerous as witches are perusing the area, and that by making a contract she can enter that fight to save people… then that’s motivation enough for her to become a magical girl. I don’t think Astrid would care as much about the wish as the fact that she would become a magical girl.

So while her wish might be something about helping her family, I think that for Astrid, the best deal of the contract isn’t the wish. It’s the fact that she has learned there is a fierce battle between magical girls and witches. She can become a magical girl. She can enter that critical battle and win. She’ll want to do that. Astrid the warrior cares about fighting the good fight… and so she’ll enter the contract with Kyubey.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut: Tuffnut Gets a Butt Beard

The twins’ wishes are going to go one of three ways.

1. They waste their wishes on something useless, ridiculous, or frivolous. A pet Whispering Death. An oversized mace. A bowl of ice cream (yes, I know that’s an anachronism, but they do mention ice cream in RTTE, and let’s be real, something odd like this could happen with them). The wish might even be a prank targeted at one another. “I wish that Ruffnut has a rainbow nose” or “I wish that Tuffnut would grow a beard on his BUTT.” There’s no telling exactly what will come out of their mouths… but the wishes could be ridiculous.

2. Their wishes are somehow the most useful of everyone’s on the team. They ask to be the wisest people in the archipelago. For them to have all knowledge. For them to be physically indestructible (so that they could have more fun on their daredevil adventures… WE CAN RUN STRAIGHT THROUGH FIRE NOW! sort of thing). The twins might or might not realize how powerful their wishes are, but as soon as they say them, the rest of the dragon riders gape and realize that holy crap the twins just made the best wishes of the entire group.

3. The twins just wish for a show of fire and destruction, something to get their pyromaniac heads excited.

Now, the reason why the twins become a magical girl and boy is also a little tricky. One of the primary “motivations” I can imagine them having… is literally just them misunderstanding the parameters of Kyubey’s contract.

I could imagine them making the wish without fully realizing that it’s a contract with Kyubey. “Oh. Wait? What? We’re supposed to do something now that we’ve made a wish? It wasn’t just a freebie?” I can easily imagine the twins not paying attention to Kyubey’s full shpeel. They find it boring, uninteresting, and tune Kyubey out. As a result, they only pick up that they have the chance to ask any wish and it’ll be granted to them. They don’t realize that it means something else will happen beyond that. This could potentially play into the twins making ridiculous wishes, “wasting” them, since they think this is just a random freebie and they want to see something hilarious in the moment. It could even play into them making serious wishes. They joke around, “Well, if I have the chance to wish for anything, sis, I should ask for like, all knowledge and power, right?” And boom it happens.

The other potential “motivation” is that they hear they get to fight witches, which allows them to tap into their daredevil personalities. It gives them an outlet for destruction. It sounds fun. So they take the offer.

Heather: Save Her Family

Heather’s probably the easiest. If she’s going to wish for anything, it’s going to be about her unpleasant family life. She lost her biological parents and later her foster parents. In this state of sadness and loneliness, Heather would be willing to take a contract with Kyubey so that these people she loves could live, be safe, be sound. Heather wouldn’t mind that it means that she has to go into the line of fire because of the wish - at least her family would be guaranteed safe now.

Eret: Probably Getting Away from Drago

We don’t know as much about Eret as the other individuals, and we don’t know what he’s like as a teenager. We meet him when he’s an adult. Supposing that Eret has a long-ish history with Drago, then maybe it could be the case that getting out of Drago’s hands is why Eret makes the contract. He figures that he’s a strong and athletic individual - fighting witches won’t be a horrible hassle, he can handle it - and in the process, he can escape that which he fears most.

[solaciummeae]

Don’t Waste Your Time On Me; You’re Already the Voice Inside My Head | Part 14

MOOD MUSIC

He’d spent a good four months making a wide perimeter around seemingly one central hub. He’d been staying with Ivy in the floor above the bar ever since he’d left Bobby’s. For the first week he’d completely stopped taking care of himself. He hardly slept and his appetite was completely non-existent. He’d swear he’d never cried so much in his life before– in private of course– but nevertheless.

Ivy had done everything in her power to make sure he didn’t land himself in the hospital due to undernourishment. She’d even taken to trimming his beard which had become thicker than he’d kept it in years. He just didn’t have the will to even care what happened to him anymore.

The second week, he couldn’t stand staying around a place that reminded him so much of Emma anymore. And so he’d taken off on his bike. He hopped from motel to motel, taking whatever cases he could find. It didn’t matter the level of danger each one involved or that sometimes he really should’ve had back up. He never made any attempt to reach out to anyone. He never asked for help from hunters that he might know locally.

He did things himself, alone– the way he’d convinced himself he should be. Bringing anyone else in could get them hurt and he refused to hurt another human being ever again. Of course, he’d been injured on several such hunts, sometimes so badly he’d had to seek out medical attention under the radar. That or he did the bare minimum to treat the wound and kept going. He went on like this for weeks upon weeks.

Sleep still evaded him– or maybe it was he that avoided it. His dreams were plagued with constant visions of Emma in various situations that always caused him to wake up in a cold sweat. Whether she was in danger and he couldn’t get to her in time or he relived the events of the night he’d left. Sleep was the one time he couldn’t shut her out of his mind. But then, he rarely could when he was awake either.

The only thing he could do was keep pushing himself to the limit– sometimes beyond it. He didn’t care what happened to him anymore. He’d gladly forfeit his life to any piece of shit scum that he was making reckless attempts at vanquishing.

He’d also developed a drinking problem that his body constantly fought him for. It was a nightly occurrence, his sit down with a bottle of whatever his eye had landed on first at the local liquor store. It never ended well. Being drunk only made his thoughts come back to Emma– particularly the night he’d found out that he had a son.

It was safe to say the only thing that was remotely healthy about him was the way he continued working out rigorously to vent his frustrations. The distance he could run for such a length of time was actually impressive as was the strength he kept up. Considering the fact that he allowed himself to get hurt the way he did and put little of anything healthy into his body on a regular basis– he was still in good shape. Or at least outwardly, he appeared so.

Adam appeared to him damn near every other day, using the gifts that came with being a vessel to locate him and travel tok him instantly. There had been many nights that he’d been the one to carry him from the bathroom floor back to his bed.

Of course, Jude protested the fact that he even showed up in the first place. He didn’t need any more reminders of Emma– of what he’d lost. He’d honestly been surprised Adam hadn’t already disappeared from existence.

“There’s still hope–” Adam tries to console his father, who in all his life has never looked as awful as he does now. “I’m still here you know– so she’s gotta come around at some point.”

Jude was too drink to even care about hope anymore. He didn’t even want to see Adam right now. He felt like it made him weaker than he already was– something he reminded himself of at least a dozen times a day. He blinks slowly at the younger man who is blurry at best. He can’t even find the words to reply because he can’t bring himself to be cruel to his own flesh and blood. No matter how much he’d changed– it wasn’t in his nature.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this Dad,” Adam goes on. “You’ve gotta get better.”

The blonde snorts at the idea as if its the last thing that’s going to happen anytime soon. “What’s the point?” He drawls, slowly bringing his eyes up to look upon the only piece of her that he has left.

“The point is that you can still get her back– but not like this.” Adam chides, eyeing the damn near empty bottle of whiskey. “What would she say if she knew what you were doing?” He attempts to make reason.

Jude scoffs, lolling his head as he speaks as though he were Emma herself. “Keep it up Judah– if you get yourself killed I’ll never have to look at your despicable face again.”

Adam purses his lips, his eyes hardened on the older man. “That doesn’t sound anything like her.”

“Yeah well, I’m sure its what she wants.” He mutters, reaching to take the bottle into his grasp.

Adam moves it away from him causing Jude to fall back into his chair with a frown. “So that’s your big plan? Get yourself killed as some grand gesture of love.” He demands. “That makes no sense whatsoever, but hey– I wouldn’t know anything about your relationship. I wasn’t raised by you two for twenty-eight years.”

Jude cringes visibly despite himself. He runs a hand down his face and shakes his head even as it throbs with intoxication. “She hates me man, its never gonna happen. I messed up too bad this time.”

“Fine. Give up. Clearly that’s what you’re quite intent on doing–” He pauses as if thinking aloud. “Maybe I should go back now and warn my six other siblings that at some point they’ll be ripped from the universe because Dad didn’t have the balls to fight for Mom after they’d had a fight.”

Jude glares at him, furious for every word he says. He’s right, even if Jude doesn’t want to admit it to himself. “It was more than a fight.” He defends pitifully.

“So– what?” Adam asks, seemingly unimpressed. “She’s the love of your life and you’re out here God knows where doing God knows what– instead of going back there and trying to win her back. If that’s not pathetic– I’m not a Kidd.” He states. “Then again– I’m starting to regret that I am.”

Another huff of bitter laughter pushes from Jude’s chest. “Gee thanks.”

“Wake– Up, Dad. You two are so–”

“So what, Adam? Please tell me. I’d love to hear you tell me anything different than I’ve already told myself a thousand times at this point.” He challenges, scowling at his son.

“She’s moving on with her life– granted, she’s not nearly as healthy as she thinks she is– not nearly as okay as she’s pretending to be– but she’s moving on. If you don’t do something soon– you really will have lost her. And then what?” He reprimands him, his own expression mirroring the other man in front of him.

“And then she gets to be happy– better off without me to fuck up her life any worse than I already have.” Jude sighs drunkenly, as if what he’d said is a perfectly acceptable response.

“Well– that’s quite impossible. Mom can’t be happy without you– she doesn’t know how anymore. In fact, she used to tell me when I was a kid that her life didn’t start until you walked into it. So that’s just great– sentence her to a life without happiness and without love.” He informs him.

Jude actually starts chuckling, his drunkenness hitting its peak as he listens to Adam. In reality, there’s nothing funny about this conversation– but he can’t believe a word Adam says. He just laughs for a minute before settling back into his chair lazily.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s better off–” He half slurs, before perking up slightly. “She’ll find someone else who can love her better than I ever could have.”

Adam covers his face with one of his large hands, squeezing his eyes shut with a groan. “Again– impossible. No one understands her like you do– no one loves her so wholly as you do– and if that’s not enough for you. Why do you think she’d kept telling herself she’d never fall in love again?”

“Because I broke her heart!” Jude shouts furiously, as if he needed the reminder of his own sins.

“Well yeah– but its more that that– its because she can’t love anyone the way she loves you– anyone else would be settling for less than she deserves– but more importantly less than what she wants.” He finishes pointedly, a tone of wisdom in his voice.

“You know what kid– you’re full of shit.” Jude hiccups.

“Okay moron– fine– don’t believe the truth when the evidence of my words is sitting right in front of you.” Adam comments sarcastically.

Jude just sort of gives him an incredulous look as though he doesn’t understand what Adam means. As far as he was concerned, there was no proof for anything he’d said. He’s so sure that Adam is only trying to comfort him that he puts not value in anything that comes from the brunette.

“Me– dumbass– I’m your son. I’m the proof.” Adam explains harshly, his voice laced with disgust at the confused drunken father of his sitting in front of him. He eyes the bottle of whiskey he’d set next to him on the desk away from Jude. “The fact that of everything you inebriate yourself with– you choose Mom’s favorite drink eighty percent of the time should be proof enough really.”

Jude is too busy pouting over the fact the he can’t refute Adam’s words anymore. He’s too tired and he’s had too much to drink. All of this talk of her makes him want to go to sleep for once because he finds himself missing her now more than ever. “I’m going to sleep.” He grumbles.

At attempting to stand up from the chair he’s slumped in, he immediately falls back down and almost winds up on the floor. The elicits another fit of laughter to overcome him. He doesn’t even know why its so amusing, maybe he’s just laughing at how pathetic he really was– just like Adam had said.

Adam stands easily and rushes over to the chair. He positions himself under his father’s arms and hoists him up with another groan. “Alright big guy– time to sleep it off.” He tells him, his voice strained. “Jesus, you’re even heavier than I expected.”

The laughing abruptly ends, Jude raising his index finger to lazily point in Adam’s face. “Watch your mouth. You better apologize to him for that– Jesus never did anything but good for you.” He scolds him, though his words run together so that they hardly make sense.

“Yeah– and do you think if I pray to Jesus some more– my parents will get back together?” Adam questions, easing his father down onto the mattress. In the back of his mind, he wonders if maybe Jude had hit a new record of intoxication tonight. Or maybe he just couldn’t get used to the idea that this was who his beloved father had become.

Jude grunts as he lands on the bed and falls over sideways. “Pfft…maybe– I don’t know–” He pushes air between his lips. “I’ve already done it a lot and nothing so far. But I’ll let you know.” He slurs again, trying to ignore the sickening feel that the entire room is spinning around him.

Adam just gives him a look of disappointment trying not to judge him. “Well– at least you know you and Mom are even, right? You broke her heart and well– look at you…”

“I can’t– the mirrors too far.” Jude attempts a witty comeback.

“Hilarious. You’re a real comedian Pops.” The brunette rolls his eyes, making his way over to the other side of the bed to sit down. There was not a chance in hell that he was leaving Jude alone tonight. He’s surprised he hasn’t had to rush him to the hospital due to alcohol poisoning yet. He supposes maybe its the heavy weight tolerance that the other had built up over the past few months.

“What are you doing?” Jude whines.

“Well– I can’t have you dying off now when we’ve made so much progress.” He replies, his voice again with thick sarcasm. “We both know when you eventually vomit– you’re either going to fall on the way there and give yourself a concussion or my personal favorite– drowning yourself in the toilet.” Adam explains with a smirk.

Jude can’t help but smile even though the pain still ebbs away in his chest. His wit was so much that of Emma’s, not to mention the way he seemed so resolved to taking care of Jude when he couldn’t take care of himself. He holds onto the pillow beneath his still pounding head wishing he were back at Bobby’s now– wishing it was her that he was holding so tightly to. “You’re a good kid.” He comments gratefully.

“Well I had great parents– had– being the operative word.” He remarks. “Now go to sleep, we’re going back tomorrow.” He informs him, leaving little room for argument.

Jude’s eyes pop open in a panic. “I can’t go back there–”

“Not Bobby’s you idiot– Ivy’s.” Adam had corrected, just before Jude had surrendered to sleep.

That had been a month ago. Something about that night had stuck with the psychic– despite how drunk he’d been at the time. They hadn’t gone back the next day upon his initial refusal. Adam had left him for a solid week then to think about the consequences of his decisions.

It hadn’t been until he’d come back shaken up from what had started happening. Adam had slowly started to disappear for brief periods. It didn’t feel like anything, just like he was missing windows of time that he couldn’t remember. He explained to Jude that if he didn’t go back soon– there would be no Adam left to take care of him when he went on a bender.

This had struck Jude harder than anything. He’d driven through the night to get back to Ivy’s and hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since. She’d been worried upon his return, the withdrawals without the constant source of liquor being worse than he’d anticipated. It really caused him to wake up and realize just how bad he’d let this get– and how out of character he’d been behaving.

Ivy and Adam had taken turns getting him through the worst of it until he was strong enough to care for himself again. He made a conscious effort to return to normal– as normal as he could be without Emma.

He started taking shifts at the bar instead of hunting. It was easier than he’d originally thought. After what he’d gone through, he had no desire to drink alcohol ever again– or at least for a long time to come. It held no appeal knowing the cost of it.

He now thanks God on a daily basis that his own stint of alcoholism hadn’t become permanent. He thanks him for a lot of things. Of one thing he still prays for every night without fail before he sleeps. He asks God to help him fix things with Emma, to help her to forgive him, and to get back what they’d lost.

Because if anything is evident by now, it is that he can’t bear the thought of an eternity without her.