#drew this real quick while i was at the clinic

[angie-starz]

Gift for @x-kiwi-03 , winter soldier kai!

[kandlewick]

everyone awoke to malleus defeated. except for you meant to be read as platonic malleyuu but can be read as romantic.

Malleus could hardly breathe. every inhale felt like it was too small, like the air surrounding him was too thin. His lungs were empty, barren, and dry. And then he would exhale. a shaky breath. It rattled his bones and burned in his chest. As if nothing but flames raged in his insides. Before him laid a friend, a betrayed comrade, someone who put too much trust in the wrong people. You. You were asleep there, in a bed of thorns and roses, nestled deep and safe. Each petal cradled your cheek like a picture frame and you were a work of art. It all felt so clinical, so far away that Malleus could hardly tear his eyes away from your sleeping form. while constricted by vines to your familiar bed in ramshackle, no thorns pierced your skin. you knew no pain lying there. only dreams. It hardly felt real.

Malleus had made a mistake. He knew he had as soon as the blot began pouring from behind his tongue. but he couldn't stop it. the delirium. it poured out of him like a cracked glass of sand. In those fleeting moments, nothing had mattered more to him. The blot retched every single negative emotion out of his soul, bearing it for the world to bear witness to. And he was ashamed.

but you and the others had succeeded against him, saving all of your classmates and himself from the curse of eternal slumber. One by one, they all began awakening. Eyelids fluttering in the new morning sun. He awoke to the sound of laughter and cheers while he laid there on the broken floor, alone and empty and so so cold. Quietly, Malleus raised his head to thank? Curse? The Ramshackle prefect that laid beside him.

only, you remained there. asleep. too far gone and too far deep for anyone to reach out to. it was like your soul and body were separated, torn asunder. the only sign of life was your chest moving up and down from the breath that filled your lungs. At the moment, Malleus thought perhaps you were simply exhausted, with the heavy bags under your eyes and the pale complexion dusting your cheeks. Like the others, he thought that you only needed more rest. But days passed and there were still no signs of life behind those closed eyes. The teachers talked amongst themselves, unwilling or perhaps unable to offer any sort of explanation. There were talks about asking for assistance from other bodies but they were quick to be shot down. It seemed like nobody knew what to do with you. Or… your body. 

Nobody took it well.

Malleus in particular had ceased his studies, locking himself away in your room in Ramshackle. Ace and Deuce would appear on occasion, Grim in tow, but the three were quick to make themselves scarce once Malleus made it clear he was not leaving your bedside. He sat there for hours, uncaring of the passing of time as night became morning and dawn became dusk. What were mere days to a nigh immortal fae. If this was his curse, to watch the one human who befriended him and suffered for it waste away from his own folly, then so be it. Every morning, like clockwork, he sat there. Unflinching. Unmoving. Like a gargoyle. His eyes were empty and red, long dried from tears but he couldn’t drag himself away from you - he refused to even think of calling you a corpse. 

This day was like any other. He sat there beside you, his hands in his lap, the book he had foolishly planned to humor to read had been cast aside long forgotten, but for some reason the sight of you there pricked at his heart more than before. His voice came out quiet, weak from disuse, but he made an effort all the same. 

“My child of man.” he croaked, his tone heavy with shame and sadness, “I will not ask you for forgiveness.”

He took a shaky breath. Hesitantly, he reached out with a weak hand and clasped your own. The thorns around you pricked him and drew blood, but he paid no mind to it. He felt nothing. Numb. Malleus choked back tears as he pulled your hands close to his chest and against his still beating heart. He lowered his head in agony as he confessed like a convict at death’s door. “What I have done to you is unforgivable.”

He held you to him. Like if he held onto you tight enough, you wouldn’t fall even more to pieces. “You were my first true friend, my closest companion. The only one who treated me as if I was an equal…” He bit back a sob as he tried to cradle his face between his hands, desperate for your touch to once again warm his bones. But there was nothing. Only the cold. “And now I’ve lost you.”

“And not a day shall pass in the centuries that I am cursed to live will I ever forget your smile.” Then with an almost reverent touch, the prince brought your hand to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to the back of your hand. His lips stayed there, the taste of salt and skin filling his tongue, but he made no effort to move while he cried.

So far gone was he that he never noticed the batting of eyelashes, the furrowed brows, or the intake of breath. So far gone that it wasn’t until he felt your hand, tiny and weak, press against his dark hair, did he lift his head.

“Good morning, Hornton.”

[asshlyyyy]

Personal Nurse

Series Warnings: Language, drug abuse, mentions of abuse, mentions of drugs. Colonel not liking the reader, probably some medical terms are incorrect, mentions of Elvis' potential death, health terms, health issues, yelling, fighting. Spelling and grammatical errors are likely. Individual chapter warnings will appear as needed.

A/n: This is basically Just The Nurse Extended

Masterlist | Next Part

Chapter 1: Become a Personal Nurse?

You flipped through the pages of the new book you'd just received. More like the first book of a new series you had just received. It was a series your mother received over the course of a few years. She said she kept them just in case. Just a little while ago... you finished your schooling in nursing. You had also been approved by your manager to be able to pick up nursing jobs by yourself. Your mother figured it was time to pass down the book series.

Cherry Ames is a series of twenty-seven mystery novels. She is a job-hopping, mystery-solving nurse in the Nancy Drew mold. She was steered into nursing by an old family friend. Did you know, there are fifty Nancy Drew books out currently?! Of course, you knew that it was a series you wanted to pick up for the longest time. In fact, the moment you could start purchasing things with your own money... you started to pick them up. What could you say... you loved mysteries.

You heard the phone start to go off. You peered over at the clock and read the time. It was just bout six in the evening. Who was calling at this time? Soon the ringing ended and the sound of your father's voice filled the apartment.

"Y/n dear, can you help set the table real quick?" Your mother asked as she continued to cook the dinner. You smiled and nodded. You placed the bookmark in place against the rough pages and closed the book. You placed the book off to the side for now and went ahead with setting the table.

Now, what the heck was a near thirty-year-old woman doing still living with her parents? Well, you went to nursing school, which slapped away four years of your life. Before that, you were working up the money to pay for said nursing school. Plus, your parents needed a babysitter from time to time, and well- you didn't disagree with the extra chance to gain money.

"Y/n! Phone for you!" Your father called from the main entryway. You placed down the last plate and made your way over to the phone. Who was asking for you? Last time you checked... you didn't have many friends since you've been... well busy trying to become a nurse.

You picked up the light blue phone and pressed it against your ear, "Y/n speaking."

"Y/n, am I great to hear your voice." Daniel's, your manager's, voice erupted from the other end.

"Daniel, hey, is everything okay?" You asked as you looked over at the pictures that were posted on the wall.

"Of course, but I got a great job for you. Just came in actually, and I know that you are the person for the job. You're one of the best trainees that I've ever had... I just know you will be perfect for this job." He spoke. A job…? Already? You just graduated a couple of weeks ago and yet… you were getting a job?

"Really? A job for me? Already?" You asked astonished. Usually, it took some people months to get a job. They end up in the clinical waiting for the day they get a big shot job.

"Of course, I already recommended you to the client... and he loves the sound of you." He told you. You smiled softly and looked over at your parents who had their eyes on you.

"What is it?" You finally asked.

"Now, before I go ahead and tell you... I was told that you can't tell anyone about this. Not even your closest friends or family." Daniel explained. Your face formed into a puzzle expression. Why couldn't you tell anyone about this job? What was so secretive about it... that it had to be kept secret?

"Um, okay?" You replied unsure, but you didn’t see why you would tell people. In the end, you would just share that you got a job.

"I'm sure you are aware of Elvis Presley?" Daniel asked, well more like assumed. Everyone on the face of earth knew who Elvis was. Whether you disliked him or not… you knew who he was.

"Yes, my sister is a die-hard fan." You chuckled lightly and wrapped the phone coil around your finger.

"Well, his father Vernon... is concerned about his health and wanted to hire a personal nurse to help care for bring him back to health." He explained the situation. It didn’t surprise you, a lot of singers went down the route of drugs. No matter how much they swore they wouldn’t.

"Wait- so are you saying... that I will be-"

"Yes, you will be Elvis Presley's nurse," Daniel confirmed to you. Now, you didn’t care much for Elvis. You liked his songs, but you weren’t some crazy fan… like your sister.

"My sister is going to flip-" You started to speak, but was soon cut off.

"Remember, you can't tell anyone. Vernon doesn't want word to get out that... well Elvis is in a bad state." He explained to you once more.

"Right right... I forgot about that." Part of you did in fact forget. You just thought it would be fun for your sister to know about such things.

"So, there are a few things I have to go over with you." He spoke.

"Like what?" You raised your eyebrow. You moved over to the chair and took a squat.

"You're going to be staying over at their house. Vernon is going to get rid of his staff members, and you're going to be tending to him. Making him healthy meals and whatnot." He explained.

"I didn't sign up to be a servant." You pointed out to him. In nowhere did it say becoming a nurse meant becoming a servant.

"You aren't going to be a servant, Y/n. You're going to bring him back to better health. So, that includes making healthy meals." He brought up. Healthy meals were one thing, but if you were going to have to clean up after this guy… you were going to throw a fit.

"Okay..."

"Do you understand?" He asked.

"I mean I understand. I just don't understand why I have to... ya know... move in with him?" You asked as you pinched the bridge of your nose. Just trying to paste together everything. Of course, this was a great job opportunity, but you would have to move... into some strangers... beautiful... big house. Positives and negatives people. Positives and negatives.

"It's part of the job. He's paying a lot of money for this, Ms. Y/l/n. The firm is going to gain a lot of money and attraction, you're going to be making a lot of money. You'll be able to finally move out of your family's place." He brought up. It did sound nice… to finally be out of your parent’s place…

You let out a sigh and nodded, "right... okay... yeah..."

"Is that going to be a problem? I suggested you because you're one of the best. I thought you would be all for this?" Daniel asked in a confused tone.

"No no! I am... It's just... I don't know... I'm going to have to basically shove everything to the side. Not have contact with my family, but... I'll do it." You said in defeat. It wasn’t like you were going to have to cut ties with your family… it just meant things were going to get complicated.

"His family and friends are just worried. Just know... there is a high chance he is going to decline help from you... and most likely will get bad at you, but Y/n. I know you can save him. I know you can." You smiled softly at his compliment.

"Thanks, Daniel."

"No thank you! I'll call Vernon back and they'll have someone pick you up tomorrow around nine in the morning. I'll give you a call tomorrow once you’re all settled in.” He said.

"Okay, thanks again, Daniel." You thanked him again. I mean, you could’ve been stuck in a clinic,  but instead… you’re going to be stuck at Graceland.

"Of course. I'll hear from you tomorrow."

"Yup, sure will. Bye." You waited for his response and hung the phone back on the receiver. You let out a sigh and rubbed your eyes. Did that really just happen? It felt all like a lie… but… it wasn’t. This was really happening.

You stood up and turned towards the kitchen and found your whole family staring at you. You raised your eyebrow in confusion. “What…?” You asked.

“Well? What’s the job?” Your sister spoke up. She held an excited smile on her face.

“I’m not supposed to say,” you said as you brought your hand up to your lips. You mimicked a zipping motion and threw away the imaginary key.

“But we’re your family,” your younger brother whined. Your brother barely understood anything, why did he care what the job was? It was cute, yes, but he is barely six. You chuckled lightly and ruffled up his hair. In return, he swatted your hands away in annoyance.

“All right fine… but you guys can’t tell anyone. And I mean anyone.” You looked at the four of them.

“You should be most worried about your sister saying something.” Your father pointed out. He was right. Your younger sister had a big mouth. She loved the gossip and loved to share it with everyone. When she heard something, she shared it. She was the type of person who would hear a rumor, and tell everyone.

“What?!” Mary, your sister, gasped lightly. “How dare you accuse me of such things.” She placed her hand over her heart.

“I’m supposed to be nursing Elvis Presley. Monitor him… Get him back onto his feet.” You told them. You know Daniel told you not to tell, but they were your family. Plus, who would believe your sister when they told them you were working with Elvis? Absolutely no one.

Your sister let out a gasp, “no way!!” She started to squeal. “Elvis Presley! THE Elvis Presley!”

“Mary, calm down. He’s just a boy.” Your father tried to claim her down. Elvis was… not a boy. He was a full-grown man.

“He’s not just some boy, dad. He is Elvis Presley!” She ran passed you and towards her room. She was most likely going to get some merchandise of his. “This is him!” She ran back out after a couple of seconds. She now held in her hands of a poster of him. “Famous. Celebrity. Hot. Rich. Single. And he sings!”

“Mary, calm down.” Your father told her once more.

“Sorry…” She frowned gently and held the poster close to her chest.

“Now don’t go ‘round telling your friends. You can’t even tell them I’m working for someone famous. In fact, don’t even mention that I have a job.” You explained to Mary.

“This isn’t fair,” she whined.

“Life isn’t always fair, Mary.” Your mother spoke up before she made her way back into the kitchen.

“Listen… if you keep the secret, and if you’re lucky… I might be able to get him to sign something for you.” You smiled at her gently.

“Would ya?” She asked with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe,” you chuckled lightly and walked to the kitchen.

The five of you ate dinner and discussed your new job. Everyone was excited and happy for you. Your sister was extremely jealous. If only she could be in your shoes and be working near Elvis. That was her ultimate dream. To be able to work with Elvis. Would it ever happen? Maybe one day it will, but as long as she’s in high school… she’s stuck far away from him.

After dinner finished up you helped your mother with cleaning up. It was the least you could do for staying here and living with them still. Most people your age were already married and had kids. You were as single as a loose penny. You were also far from having any type of kids at this rate.

You made your way into your room and figured it was time to start packing. It was better than having to wake up early the next morning and do it all right then and there. Your medical bag was pretty much all ready. Yet, you knew it would still make sure everything was in there.

You went to your closet and found your luggage. You pulled the light blue piece out and placed it on your bed. You opened it up and started to pack everything up. You’ve been training to be a full-time nurse for quite some time now. You’ve worked under Daniel’s view for about a year. Just recently were you able to pass the final exam. It was a lot of work, but you were excited for the next adventure.

You stuffed as much as you can into your luggage, grabbed your old book bag, and started to stuff that up as well. There was no way you were going to leave your parent’s place and not take a bunch of books. Not to mention you had to finish ready the new series your mother just got you. There were also some medical journals that you had to reads. Just because you graduated, didn’t mean there wasn’t anything else you couldn’t learn.

You placed the luggage off to the side and grabbed your medical bag and the lockbox that stood underneath it. For the most part, you kept your medical bag full. On the other hand, you had to keep all types of medication locked away. This is mostly due to you having younger siblings. You didn’t want one of them to end up in your bag and… well…

You got everything packed up rather quickly, and you were stuck checking them multiple times. There was no way you wanted to forget something. You didn’t even know if it was possible for you to leave once you were there. There was also no way your parents could drop it off either.

So, as you laid in bed that night… You realized just how scared you were. There was something about meeting someone famous. It was like you had to impress them. You couldn’t mess up anything. Even your words. One small slip-up and they may think differently of you. Yet, there was something else. It was Elvis. He changed the world of music, and you were about to one right by his side.

Sure, you aren’t the biggest fan, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be starstruck. The man was beautiful, you give him that. But you also knew he had anger issues. Then again, everyone had some kind of anger issue. Your first job… went his job could either make you… or break you… That’s a lot of pressure to be holding.

Mutual Taglist: @babyhoneypresley, @emmymaehereeeeee, @venus-haze, @austinstyles

[osric-giroux-ffxiv]

Dusk Vigil - Finale

Consciousness returned in waves. 

The first thing he noticed was the warmth of his surroundings and the comfort of the surface he was laying on - it lacked the cold bite of the Vigil, and the unforgiving nature of the stone he remembered his knees hitting before everything went black. 

It took several moments for him to open his eyes - whatever medication had been used to sedate him had been incredibly effective and even as he managed to open his eyes, keeping them open for more than a moment at a time was proving to be a challenge. 

Osric sighed, relaxing a bit as he recognized that he was no longer within the confines of the Dusk Vigil, but was in fact within the Cress Estate - the clinic? He assumed the clinic...

He turned his head, straining to listen, for any sounds…any indications of movement, and was met with silence - it seemed as though he was the room's only occupant for the time being. 

A hand drifted to his side, the relief almost palpable as he found the wound he’d recalled being there during his last conscious moments having been taken care of and he was no longer sporting what remained of his broken weapon. He shifted the arm up and across his eyes, and was just starting to drift back into sleep once again when a knock from nearby drew his attention. 

The arm was lifted and he cracked an eye open - what time it was, hell, what day it was he was completely oblivious to. How long he’d been out was a complete mystery to him.

Peeking his head around the corner, looking for someone cautiously was Colson, a stack of papers in his hand. “Oh, good you’re awake - thought that blonde doctor of ya’lls was gonna run me off.”

“Colson?”

“Aye - ain’t been long enough for you to forget me, boss. We brought you in last night and that doctor lady was real quick about gettin’ that thing yanked up outta you.”

Osric ran a hand over his face, the ache in his side becoming much more pronounced for a moment. “Yes, well…thank you for that particular visual, Colson.”

The other Hyur nodded, oblivious to the dark-haired man’s discomfort, “You’re welcome - anyway, didn’t come to give you the play by play of your medical treatment. Couldn't tell you half of what she did anyhow.” He pulled a small stack of papers from his jacket and set it on the bedside table. “Those are the papers you handed off to me before you decided to charge headlong into a mass of people with nothin’ but an axe while bleedin’ from the side. Figured you might want some readin’ material while you’re recoverin’.”

“The thought is appreciated - but in the future? Perhaps a day or two to actually recover?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, memories of events beginning to filter back in. “What of the individual they were holding?”

“Being kept at the barracks at the moment - comfortably, got no reason to make him uncomfortable - until we can figure out who he is.”

Osric nodded, as best he could against the bedding, “I’ll speak to him once I’m up…or perhaps after a few days after I'm up. And maybe have him brought to the estate if it’s appropriate. In the meantime gather a handful of men, return to the Vigil and clean out whatever goods were there. I want them brought to the barracks for appraisal and I want the Vigil as empty as it was supposed to have been when we arrived.”

“Can do that.”

“Good. Inform me when it’s done.” Once the building was empty and back to its original state - then he could inform Gaspard Thierremont that the job was complete and the Highlands were safe for their traders once again…and the Temple Knights would owe House Cress a rather significant favor.

“I’ll leave you to your rest, boss.”

“...Thank you, Colson - and well done out there.” 

The other man gave a little nod of his head with a grin before shifting back, “Hey - that’s what we’re trained for, yeah? Not too bad for a first run. Might make a name for ourselves after all before it’s all’s said n’ done.” With that he was back around the corner and gone, leaving Osric to his thoughts once again.

He reached for the paper on the top of the stack, exhaling slowly as he scanned the contents of the page - something he hadn’t had the time to do during the chaos of  all the fighting. 

“Just what in the world were you all up to, I wonder…”

If he could hold off that medicated sleep a bit longer...perhaps he could begin to find out.

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3

[soldmysoultootomeboys]

Demon MC with Human Obey Me Brothers Reverse AU

Okay but what if the brothers were all ‘normal’ humans who ended up summoning a demon, who is MC.

I’m in love with this idea. Lowkey might write a fic about this  jk...unless? Levi’s was surprisingly the most fun to write. Also I guess tw for normal demon things??? Nothing too graphic tho

Part 2

Lucifer

As a human he was a high ranking businessman. While still a formal person on the outside he had a perverse interest in the occult that he hid from the rest of his coworkers.

Due to his important position and large pay he manages to get his hands on some rare books on demon summoning. After a lot of research he tries them out.

When he summons you he doesn't look surprised or afraid and is quite clinical about it at first. The first thing he does is bind your powers so they can never be used against him. After he informs the rules you must follow if you're to be living with him.

Even as a human he is quite prideful and controlling and he wants to remind you who's really in charge.

At first he only sees you as a demon. He lets you do your own thing when he isn't ordering you around and when the two of you do go out in public he only introduces you as an acquaintance of his. People are rather surprised at this as he's not the type to walk around with others and rumors quickly fly off about you two.

It's not until you two are walking home from a shopping trip that you really start to bond. It was a late night and no one was around so the two of you take your time, enjoying the cool air and stars.

All too late that you hear the click of a gun. From the shadows steps a man, weapon pointed straight at you. Seeing your nonthreatening human form as well as Lucifer who practically reeks of wealth he thought the two of you easy targets. Wrong.

With inhuman speed you lunge forward shifting into your demon form. The gun clatters to the floor as you rip him to shreds with no remorse. It's only when Lucifer finally calls you away that you realize he's dead.

Once you manage to get home he is immediately lecturing you about how risky the actions you just did were. Someone could have seen you or more importantly seen him. What would you have done if the cops got involved? Eat them?

Once he's done though he thanks you and a few days later a gift ends up in your room. He never claims it, even though you can smell his cologne all over it.

After that night Lucifer treats you different. Not better, but not worse either. If anything he's a bit kinder but in a cold sort of way and he keeps his distance when anything gets too serious. At first you think its because he's scared of you. It isn't till he finally approaches you, a stern look on his face and orders you to transform that you realize he was working up the courage to see what you really looked like.

The pact urges you to turn, so you do and you let him examine you, circling several times. He's most interested in your wings, asking if he could touch them and when you consent he gently runs his hands over them. Despite you being a demon he treats you delicately shifting aside feathers with a careful hand and running a light fingertip over leathery skin.

It's a strange feeling at first, but not bad and you're practically purring by the end

After that he asks to see your true form more and more

Mammon

He didn't mean to summon you.

He just wanted to make a quick buck. It was getting close to Halloween people were starting to be interested in demons and spooks once again. That's why he thought it would be a great idea to start a seance business.

Twenty dollars for him to pretend to summon a demon, maybe shake a table once or twice, have some scary sounds playing in the background, nothing too big. Who would have known that the book he stole as his main prop would really work.

When he first sees you he screams.

He immediately tries to shove you back into the book to no avail. As he has no clue how to get rid of you he ends up stuck with you, a terrifying demon.

At first its very easy (and amusing) to scare him. Bear your teeth, mumble in a made up language, threaten to rip him to shreds.

You can actually see his soul leave his body when he faints.

However in typical Mammon fashion he gets used to you surprisingly quick, especially when you don't come through on your promise to eat him.

After that he figures that together the two of you could start scamming people for even more money. After all, he does own a real live demon now.

You two make bank stealing and tricking people. With his knack for creating schemes and your powers the two of you are rolling in money in no time, although it always seems to be lost pretty quickly thanks to his terrible gambling habits.

It's in the middle of a heist that something goes wrong. Someone, you don't know who you can only hear the click of a revolver, pulls out a gun. With lightning fast reflexes you’re tackling Mammon shielding him with the tip of your wing and just in time as something is shot into it tearing through muscle and sinew.

The urge to rip them to shreds overtakes you, growing with every second that your human is in danger. But there was so many of them and you couldn't protect Mammon and yourself at the same time. The need to get somewhere safe is much more important so you leave.

It's only your quick reflexes that get the two of you out alive.

When you finally get home Mammon laments over all of the money he lost on the deal. acts like it doesn't affect him. His complaints last exactly till he sees the blood staining your form.

He almost faints right there.

Once he recovers he's immediately running to get ice packs and gauze, fussing over your injured wing. It's obvious he’s worried even though he tries to hide it under his tsundere act. When you’re finally bandaged up he thanks you glancing at your wound the entire time.

It's hard not to appreciate the gesture.

You just don't know how to tell him that your going to be perfectly fine in like two days (thank Diavolo for demon healing)

After this you two are a lot closer. Even before you were friends, but now the relationship has morphed into something different.

The two of you do less dangerous scams and while Mammon doesn't act too different he gets super weird when you're too close. Blushing a terrible crimson and freaking out when you touch.

Even for a demon its not hard to see that he has a crush.

Levi

Also summoned you on accident.

He was actually trying to summon Ruri-chan. You have to admit when it comes to her he does his research. Drew a full pentagram and everything and as a final touch placed a little plushy in the middle.

He absolutely panics when you arrive here instead.

Used to humans being afraid you, you ignore him at first. You fall to one knee eager to pledge your loyalty in exchange for his soul when you land on something squishy.

Pulling it out from under you see a plushy??? Of some anime character??? TF???

This pulls him from his stupor and he snatches it from you and begins to lecture you on the importance of Ruri-chan and anime on human culture.

You have no clue whats going on at this point.

When he finally stops talking he actually gets kind of excited. He summoned a hot demon??? Woah! This is just like his anime 'I accidentally summoned a demon from Hell who became my roommate and now I might be falling for them.' 

At your confused look he immediately turns it on and has you watch it. You two end up having an entire movie night together.

After that the two of you mostly act like roommates.

He often compares you to his favorite series TSL where 7 humans summon a demon named Henry and go on crazy adventures with him. The first time he accidentally calls you Henry he blushes like crazy.

At first he acted like you were annoying him most of the time but it was pretty easy to catch on to his tsundere act. He actually loves having you around and will whine when you have to leave. He says its because he can't play two player games without you but you know the truth.

On the rare occasions the two of you go out he gets jealous of anyone with even the slightest interest in you. Your HIS demon why are you giving someone else your attention?

Its pretty easy to distract him though. Just the slightest touch and hes flushing and stuttering. You can do whatever he won't get the hint that you like him the most.

'There's no way you meant to do this. This must be some weird demon norm I don't know about. Yup that's it.'

Satan

Summoned a demon on purpose. And not just that summoned you on purpose.

With his extensive library he had more than enough information to figure out how to summon a demon. After that it was just a matter of choosing which one. He finally settled on you.

You don't need to worry about explaining how a pact works to him. He already knows everything on it. Maybe even more than you. Nerd.

Don't express this opinion out loud. He will be furious.

Even so he'll still make you tell him about summoning a million times just to see if you know anything different.  

Mostly you’re an over glorified assistant/labrat to him. MC grab that book. MC draw this summoning circle. MC stick your hand in this flame.

Of any of the brothers he is the one who sees your demon form the most and the one who asks the most questions about it. You have very sharp claws what are those used for? Four sets of wings? I wonder why you have so many. Slitted eyes? Do you have any idea why they are like this?

He is very interested in the differences between humans and demons so you end up performing a lot of tests.

He would also be curious about the celestial war and your part in it. Its up to you to choose to answer him or not.

If you ignore any of his questions he will get annoyed and be snippy. But just tell him an interesting tidbit about hell and he'll be back to normal in no time.

As for his actual job he works as a researcher at a big lab. You go there often to help him with his work. He used to have a lot of assistants but none could handle his terrible rage.

Its one of the reasons you work so well with him. An angry human? That's no big deal. Now if he was a demon that would be something to talk about

His tantrums are actually kind of cute. Like a fussy kitten.

Telling him this has a 50/50 chance of either making him blush or rampage.

If its possible he uses you to annoy his colleagues

Janice talked shit about his theories on planetary alignment? Poison her

Jk not really but maybe just, like, make her day a hundred times worse?

Thanks MC you're great

A power team at its best. His need to get back at people he hates works well with your general need to cause mischief 

Asmodeus

An orgy summons you obvious reasons. Although technically not the one who summoned you, you end up making a pact with Asmodeus before the nights over.

It was inevitable really, of all the humans there how could you not choose him? His overblown confidence and cocky insistence that he was perfect was practically adorable. I mean here you are, a demon of all things, and yet this little human is here insisting that he was perfection himself. You just wanted to eat his soul right up he was so cute.

To him its obvious why. After all, he was so beautiful that even demons fell in love with him, he couldn't blame you.

Even if you tell him the real reason he won't believe it.

Immediately starts bragging about how he could seduce demons

If you leave a pact mark on him though he will complain

As for actual duties you don't have a lot

At parties you work as his wingman but at home the two of you have more of a domestic role. He treats you more like a best friend than a demon.

He has a lot of spa days, something he immediately insisted that you take part in too.

One day you bring him a bottle of demon moisturizer. Big mistake

When he finds out about all the different demon beauty products he immediately orders you to get him some.

Your poor wallet.

He's always ordering new things. He really wants to go down to Devildom so he could look himself instead of having to order off Akuzon. One day you'll figure out a way to show him the eternal night.

He's also very flirty towards you, something your not surprised about. Hes always on your lap or petting your head or asking for affection, and he constantly alludes to the things the two of you could do. As time goes on he begins to get even more needy, sometimes ignoring others at parties just to flirt with you. He wants all of your attention all of the time.

Beelzebub

Did not mean to summon you but now that your here hes pretty okay with it

Of all the brothers he the one to treat you the most like another human.  

However you have one duty that you take very seriously

You must protect his brother, no matter what.

Other than that you two are like roommates. He doesn't really ask you of much except to keep the fridge stocked (which is a bigger job than expected this guy eats a lot) and he'll take care of the rent and everything else.

Sometimes he'll ask if you want to head to the gym with him. You thank your demon metabolism since every time you end up going he always stops for burgers and shakes at his favorite place on the way home.

He lifts a lot for a human, no surprise since you've seen how sculpted his body is. Seriously he's like a Greek statue. You spot him while doing reps and help correct his form while necessary. It's a bit of a switch from dealing with demon biology to human biology though so you have to make sure that you don't accidentally hurt your new friend.

Sometimes the two of you have movie nights, although its more of an excuse for him to buy a bunch of human food and you to buy a bunch of demon food and pig out. He still manages to out eat you somehow.

Occasionally the two of you will go out with his brother Belphie although it usually ends up with either you or Beel carrying him when he falls asleep. But it gives you time to chat with Beel on your own which you don't mind

The two of you end up with a good bromance, sometimes minus the b.

He treats you like an old friend and even ends up telling you about Lilith, his dear sister who died when a car hit her. He had only managed to pull his brother out of the way at the time and he still remembers it well. You can practically smell the guilt that hangs off him when he tells you that. It's hard not to feel touched after that story even for a demon.

He confesses a lot of things to you, things he has a hard time saying to other people. He never calls upon his pact to swear you to secrecy. He trusts you.

Belphie

Also summons you on purpose

When you first meet Belphie he's angry, uncontrollably angry. It's at the point where it almost surprises you. After all a human filled with so much wrath is no small feat.

His first order is a tough one but one you have no choice but to accept. 

Kill the man that murdered his sister

The two of you work hard to hunt him down, spending many days brainstorming late into the night. Although it always ends up with just you working, as Belphie has the strangest tendency to fall asleep while talking. (Narcoleptic maybe? Or just lazy?) Whatever the case you don't terribly mind.

Even just his presence helps, in some strange way.

When you finally track him down Belphie insists on going too. He wants to see the man die with his own two eyes.

It's not a hard fight but it is an emotional one. Through the bond you two share you can feel Belphies anger, his pain, his desire for revenge, and then finally an emptiness.

When its over the two of you go home, still covered in whatever bits of him were left. Belphegor shows no emotions and you wonder if hes in shock from seeing someone die so suddenly, but all you feel is a tired yet content thrum through your bond.

When you finally get home Belphegor immediately tries to go to sleep and its only through a little nagging and a lot of manhandling that your able to convince him to shower first. By now the bloods beginning to dry into a nasty goop and once he's done you jump in too, soothed by the steam and clouds of soap drifting around you.

To no ones surprise Belphie is asleep when you get out. It's then when you realize that you have nothing left to do. 

With that one action your purpose here is done, and yet your pact remains. Your thoughts begin to rise Belphie who clings stubbornly to sleep. It's no use though. The two of you are too connected for it to stop. 

You hear the sheets rustle and he raises one hand patting at the covers. A universal sign to come here.

"You're so loud" He mutters even though you haven't said a word. "Just sleep already."

A useless answer but a comforting one. You curl up at his side, feeling the tiniest bit like an obedient dog, but his arm settles over your shoulder and he drapes himself over your chest erasing the thoughts from your mind.

You eyes flutter close, at least for the moment. You can decide what you should do when you wake up.

[cozyenigma]

There When You Call

Really need someone to come slap my hands away from the keyboard or everything is gonna turn into a novel eventually!

Pairing- Reader/Darkiplier 

Word count- 1285

Request?- Yes!

Summary: You ran home hurt, bleeding, and well on your way to freaking out completely. Stuck in a tailspin, you reach out to the first person that comes to mind.

Warnings- blood, injury, brief mention of assault 

Somehow, you managed to get the key in the lock, practically flinging the door open in your haste to get inside. You kick the door shut with just as much force.

As you're tossing off your jacket you feel a sharp pain in your side. You freeze while your already frazzled mind goes into a tailspin. Numb, you peel off your jacket the rest of the way, revealing a dark stain the size of your fist at your side. Both your jacket and shirt have a long, neat tear in them. Horror slowly built in your chest as you realized you'd been stabbed.

Luckily, things weren't quite so dire as you'd thought. You made a beeline to your bathroom, lifting your shirt enough to spot the cut. It was probably going to need stitches but at least it looked like most of the bleeding had stopped. Now that you were in front of a mirror though, it was clear you looked like hell.

Already you could see the beginnings of a black eye forming. Your face throbbed. Add in a split lip and some sore ribs and you felt about as good as you looked. Still, if you hadn't managed to run it'd undoubtedly be worse.

Your hands had started to shake as you left the bathroom. It was like there wasn't enough air in the room. For a few good moments you stand there uselessly before your eyes catch on your phone, still charging where you left it. In the next instant you snatched it up, hurriedly typing out a message to the first person you thought of.

Then you're sliding to the floor, legs feeling like jello. Your phone fell somewhere beside you. The reality of what you just barely avoided was really settling in when you heard a ringing sound.

You hear your name being called but don't answer. The volume of the ringing increases slightly as Dark sweeps in, scanning the room before settling on you. You're starting to properly freak out as he quickly kneeled in front of you.

When cool hands cupped your cheeks you jumped, only now realizing Dark had arrived almost immediately after you sent that text. Just as quick you launch yourself at him. He almost toppled from the force, freezing for a moment before returning the embrace. His hands rubbed circles into your back and he was more cautious than usual. Whether it was because of your injuries or something else you couldn't be sure.

"You're safe now," his voice was low, trying to soothe you, "I'm here."

You knew you were shaking but with the adrenaline starting to wear off you were powerless to stop it.  Time seemed to take a pause then. You're not sure if he spent just a minute or several murmuring quiet reassurances to you. When Dark drew back he started searching for injuries, eyes flitting across your body. When he caught sight of the blood on your shirt he growled out a quiet curse, going to get a better look before you grab his hand.

Dark looked up at you. "I need to look at it."

Throat tight, you nod but don't let go of his hand just yet. Now that you weren't running back home, everything was starting to hurt. Your face throbbed and the cut on your side made itself known whenever you moved as much as an inch.

When you continued to hesitate, Dark sighed quietly. "You're hurt. Please just let me heal it."

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself. "Okay."

When he peeled the cloth back you could see Dark frown. Maybe your assessment was off? You can't quite bring yourself to look at it again, trying your best to push down the pang of fear at the thought.

"You're going to need stitches." He sounded oddly clinical considering. "Can you stand?"

Managing another nod, Dark helped you to your feet, his hold tightening just a fraction as you winced. He guided you back to your bathroom, having you sit down on the edge of the bathtub. After looking through your cabinets Dark huffed and turned to you.

"I'm coming right back, do not move."

You don't have a chance to say anything before he's striding out of the room. The silence that fell over you then was stifling. Luckily you don't have much time to yourself before Dark is walking back in, a rather hefty looking first aid kit in hand.

Dark noticed your staring. "We keep these around in case the doctor is… preoccupied." Setting it on the floor next to him, he started grabbing supplies. "Comes in handy in our line of work."

Despite the situation you couldn't help but snort. "Like when Wilford nearly chopped his finger off trying to cook?" Your voice was a bit too shaky.

Dark just shook his head. "Should've made him take care of that himself."

The two of you fell quiet as Dark tended to your wounds. Aside from the slash to your side, you'd managed to scrape your knees up real good and scored a few other smaller cuts and bruises. You managed to keep still, somehow. Halfway through though, Dark asked what you're sure was weighing on him the entire time.

"How did this happen?" His tone was measured. Carefully calm.

All you could do was shrug and you didn't meet his eye when he looked your way. "I don't know. Walking back home, someone tried to stop me."

His hands paused for a split second before continuing. "What happened?" Dark asked again.

"I don't know what they wanted," your grip on the edge of the tub tightened, "I just tried to run. Wasn't fast enough I guess."

You almost didn't notice how the ringing that sometimes followed him around seemed to get louder. Dark betrayed little though, working with ruthless efficiency. It only took him a minute more to finish up, leaning back with a terse nod. You're left sitting there as he stands pulling out his phone and leaving the room.

Carefully stepping around the remains of the first aid kit you follow. You find Dark standing out in the living room, voice low and angry as he was talking to someone on the phone. Glancing over his shoulder, Dark hung up and turned to you.

"I'll have it taken care of," he said, pocketing the phone.

What that meant, especially considering you hadn't even seen the person's face, was anyone's guess. You hug your arms around yourself and feel the fresh stitches pull slightly. Probably better to leave that one a mystery.

Even though you thought you were hiding it well, he seemed to notice your discomfort anyway. He stepped closer, brows furrowed. "You'll probably want to see an actual doctor at some point."

"I'll be fine I think," you lied.

Maybe physically, sure, but neither of you missed how hard you were gripping your arms. Before he could say anything else, you reached out for his hand. Dark wasn't adverse to touch but still seemed taken by surprise sometimes. This time though he seemed to anticipate it, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Stay." You said, hopeful. "Just for tonight at least."

"Of course," he said quickly, as if he expected you to ask. Wordlessly, he drew you in, resting his chin atop your head. The ringing had quieted somewhat now, you noticed. Though it was hard telling what Dark actually thought about this considering how tightly he was holding you too.

Little words were exchanged after that. The high of adrenaline having long since faded by now, you were exhausted. Though he didn't say it aloud, the way he held you seemed to say "You’re safe, I love you.”

[keanureevesisbae]

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 3

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 3.9k

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

It’s still beyond me that I told the famous actor Henry Cavill that his dog is kinda fat. The entire time from three till six a.m. was a dream to be honest. I noticed the second he walked in how handsome this man looked, not realizing he was Henry Cavill, though I thought he looked familiar. His curls were disheveled, his coat hung open and he looked pretty out of it, something that is completely understandable. However, he wasn’t just a snack—this man is a full course meal.

When he placed his dog on the examination table and stared at Kal with that concerned look on his face, was also the exact moment I felt something crumble deep inside of me. The aversion I had against all men (minus the one and only Keanu Reeves of course) was falling apart. I felt so stupid for thinking about him and how handsome he looked. Two days later, I still feel stupid.

He is a client with a dog who was sick. Had the other clinics picked up, I wouldn’t even know how handsome he was in real life. And on top of that, he is not just any client. He is Henry Cavill. The Henry Cavill, with an ass that looks good on screen, but even better in real life.

Yes, I looked. I’m still a person with a pulse who lets her mind wander from time to time and his butt definitely is part of my dreams nowadays.

Though I let my fantasies take me to certain places with Henry, I couldn’t help but turn into a soft pile of mush, as I watched him hold Vanessa in his thick arms, allowing her to play with his curls. I watched him listen intently as she started counting from one to hundred. He listened from the first number to the last and seemed genuinely impressed.

It’s rare to find a man who is willing to give a young child his full attention. In those six years I’ve been raising Vanessa, he is the first one that I encountered that is like that.

A quick Google search while he was chatting with Vanessa told me he was single. Somehow I stumbled upon multiple articles saying that he really wants a family of his own.

My mind almost wanted to think about how maybe… He could become someone important for Vanessa, because he was such a natural and the older Vanessa gets, the more I think that she needs a male figure in her life. Since she has reached the age of five, she has been bugging me about having a dad. The years prior to that moment, I was perfectly capable of being both the mother and the father. At least that’s what I thought. I came to the bitter conclusion that I’m her mother and that is it.  

But then I also realized that I should keep one one thing in mind:

Henry Cavill is dying to have a family of his own.

And Vanessa is not his own.

I want to think about something else, but I can’t. I simply can’t stop thinking about Henry Cavill and his strong arms. I’m convinced I was hallucinating when I thought he was flexing his arm muscles, when he carried Kal.

When I told Belle about this, she began rambling something about how that man oozes family man and how he makes her ovaries shake and ache for babies. I shrugged it off, thinking she was being ridiculous, but now…

I never thought I’d meet someone else. I knew that I’d be raising Vanessa by myself, though I secretly wished she wasn’t born to a single mom, who obviously had no idea what she was doing. I wished that she was born into a happy family, with a mother, a father, siblings, uncles and aunts and grandparents, but that wasn’t the case, so I tried my best to give her the best life I could possible provide for her.

And I shouldn’t think about Henry Cavill like that. I know for a fact that he has already forgotten about me and my daughter.

However it’s hard to forget about him. Especially since Vanessa can’t shut her mouth about how amazing Superman is and how he is the strongest man on earth because he carried his overweight dog into the clinic with no problem.

Vanessa and I walk back home, after I picked her up on Monday. ‘Nobody believed I met Superman,’ she says. For a second I’m afraid she is defeated, but then she simply shrugs. ‘But I know better than that.’

That’s my girl. ‘Very good, sweetie.’

‘Miss Sue send me out of class today,’ Vanessa then says.

‘Why?’ This isn’t the moment to become the overprotective mother goose. This is the moment to let her tell me in all honesty what happened.

‘I wasn’t doing what she told me to do. We had to read four pages out loud with the class, but Nicky is really slow, so I read the next page by myself, while I wasn’t supposed to.’

‘But why did she send you out?’ I ask.

‘Because I did it four times.’

‘Right,’ I say. What do I say about this? I understand my daughter completely, because I used to do the same. Besides, I think miss Sue is a bit uptight to be honest. I don’t like miss Sue. She’s always pretty condescending to me, probably because she’s ancient and thinks a child should have both a mother and a father, like the perfect housewives do.

I really hate every parent who has a kid going to that school, but on top of my hate list, is miss Sue.

When Vanessa senses my lack of reaction, she says: ‘I made you another drawing.’

I prepare myself for the well known drawing, that I can dream by now, but all the air is knocked out of my lungs when I see what she drew me today. I stop in the middle of the curb, earning me some annoyed groans from two old ladies who were apparently walking behind me, but I don’t care. I really couldn’t care less at the moment.

Oh my God, what is it with this kid and desperately wanting a father?

Okay, now I get that she wants a dad, I do, but did she honestly have to draw a Superman and a dog (where she wrote underneath KAL) inside of our house? Superman stands next to me and she tried to make it look like Superman and I are holding hands.

Oh my God, what goes on inside Vanessa’s head?

‘What did you draw?’ I ask her, though I know exactly what she drew.

‘My new daddy.’ She smiles, revealing the empty gap where her tooth was this morning, but it fell out during recess today. It’s her third tooth and I’m too much of a realist to tell her about the Tooth Fairy, since I had severe nightmares about that. She doesn’t care about the Tooth Fairy being fake (but she had to promise me to play along when kids in school talked about it), only about the money that I have to give her.

‘Your new what?’ I ask her.

‘My new daddy,’ she says. She pretends like she is talking to an idiot, but that attitude is apparently something she saw me doing and made it a personality trait of herself, since Belle once said that she is just as sassy as I am.

‘You can’t just declare every man you meet as your new dad,’ I tell her.

‘But I haven’t asked for a new daddy in so long,’ she says and to be fair, that’s true. The only thing she does, is draw me the same picture daily with the exception of today. ‘I want Superman to be my new daddy.’

‘It’s an impossible wish.’

‘But I want him as my new dad,’ she says, stomping her foot on the ground.

This is the moment she chooses to have a temper tantrum? Great, just what I need after a long day of not putting one pet to sleep, but three. ‘Vanessa, I’m not having this conversation with you. That man is not going to be your new dad.’

Am I telling her this or myself?

‘Why not?’ she whines.

‘Because not every man you like can be your new dad, so that includes Henry.’

Vanessa starts to pout, but I turn away, not being able to look at her when she looks like that, because if she stares at me with that face for a little too long, I’m breaking into the office to look for Henry’s number, so I can call him and literally ask him to be Vanessa’s new dad.

Goodness gracious, what is happening to me? What happened to my strong independent woman mindset? I don’t need a man, like the Pussycat Dolls told me growing up and I don’t need them for anything. I have managed to become a great veterinarian and a pretty okay mother, without the help of family. I’ve done so much, but I’m willing to let all that go, just so I can have one more glance from Henry. Just one more smile from him.

A bark pulls me out of my thoughts and I look over my shoulder. I not only see the chubby American Akita, but also his owner. Henry looked handsome Saturday morning, but he looks even hotter today. He wears a dark blue jeans that shows the world how thick his thighs really are and a cosy sweater, but not a coat, since men are apparently too cool to wear coats in the beginnings of autumn.

Henry notices us and holds up his hand, while a wide smile creeps on his face. Vanessa wants to rush towards him, but I grab her arm before she can run away. Seriously, my mom reflexes are no joke. Today, when a salamander wanted to wander around the examination table and nearly fell off, I caught him just in time, while I had my back turned to him. The nine year old boy to whom the weird pet belonged to, almost cried out of happiness because I saved his salamander from breaking his neck. ‘Not a word about the new dad thing,’ I tell her sternly.

She nods, recognizing the look on my face and knowing that I mean it. I let her go and when she is close enough, she jumps in Henry’s arms. He catches her easily and I hear him say: ‘What a greeting, miss Vanessa,’ followed by a lovely chuckle of his.

This girl really needs a male figure in her life, I think to myself and if it were up to me, that role model is going to be Henry Cavill.

‘I missed you, Superman,’ she tells him and I have to resist the urge to bring up the new dad thing myself.

‘I missed you too,’ Henry says to her and that earns him a kiss from Vanessa on his cheek.

There is this saying that the only ones that tell the truth, are drunk people and little kids. What if Vanessa is right? What if this man should be her new dad? She always drew a man with a dog, outside of our house.

I never saw her with another man like this. Belle’s brother is nice, of course and they are best buddies, but it was never like this. This look Henry and Vanessa share with each other.

Vanessa wiggles herself out of his strong arms to cuddle Kal, who looks a lot livelier than he did a few days ago. He excitedly wags his tail. ‘Doctor Tran,’ Henry says to me when I walked over to the three of them.

‘Please, call me Olivia,’ I tell him. ‘We’re not in the clinic.’

‘Right.’ Henry has a faint blush on his cheeks. Is it because of me or did my child say something to him that embarrassed him when she hugged him?

‘How is Kal doing?’ I ask, scratching the big dog behind his ear, while Vanessa pets his back. ‘He looks a lot better than he did on Saturday.’

‘Yeah, I’m giving him the meds you gave me and he has been his normal self again. I also bought some Purina One and he seems doing really well with the sudden change of kibble.’ Henry clears his throat and he says: ‘It’s hard not to give him as many snacks as I want to, but I’m trying my best.’

‘Oh, you’re that kind of owner,’ I smile, before shoving my hands in my pockets. ‘Well, he looks happy and better than Saturday, so that’s good.’

I honestly have no idea what I can say to him, so for the first time in forever, I’m hoping Vanessa can break the ice here. I just pray she doesn’t force us to sing that Moana song, because that girl will get her way, especially when it comes to singing songs. I once had to sing “Love is an Open Door” (both Anna’s and Hans’ part) to her, when she locked herself in the bathroom at the library because something scared her.

Our eyes meet for a second and it’s like she understands me without words. ‘Mister Henry, what were you doing out here?’

Very good, Vanessa.

‘I was walking Kal,’ he says to her, crouching down so he doesn’t tower over her.

That’s adorable and all of the sudden I understand that shaking ovaries comment Belle made a whole lot better. I’m willing to give this man the family he wants, but I need to stop thinking right now.

‘We will walk with you.’

I wasn’t hoping for that kind of ice breaker. ‘Sweetheart,’ I say to her, ‘we can’t just say that. Maybe he has an appointment or something else that is important.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Henry on the other hand says, completely disregarding my parental efforts. ‘We could use some company actually.’

While my common sense is telling me that this isn’t a great idea (he is a client at the clinic, he just wants to get into your pants, he is just being nice), my heart is pounding like crazy, loving this idea.

‘Please, mommy.’ Vanessa folds her little hands together and pushes out her bottom lip, blinking her eyes like she’s some sort of puppy. This kid knows what she’s doing, because the chance I’m saying no now, is basically non existent.

‘Okay, sure, but you stay close now. No wandering off. If you want to go somewhere, ask me.’

‘We can go to a nearby park,’ Henry suggests. ‘Kal can run free if he wants and we can keep an eye on them.’

We can keep an eye on them. Don’t start hyperventilating now, Olivia Tran. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

Vanessa squeals and walks in between us, holding not only my hand, but also Henry’s. Oh my, we look just like one happy family, especially when I look to my side, to see that the most gorgeous looking man on the planet earth, is already looking at me, flashing me a beautiful smile.

Secretly I hope that we run into some parents from school, miss Sue or even my parents. I’m really tempted to rub this in everyones face, though it’s probably only a once in a lifetime moment.

‘Mister Henry,’ Vanessa says, ‘my mommy had to kill two cats and a dog today.’

‘Not kill,’ I quickly correct her. ‘I had to put them to sleep, remember? Those animals were old and sick and they needed a little help to go to heaven. I don’t kill them.’ I look at Henry again, who seems amused. ‘I really don’t.’

‘I believe you,’ he laughs. ‘You just tell owners their pets are fat.’

I involuntarily let out a laugh. ‘You are the first one in two months with a fat pet, so I just save it for the famous actors with who can’t say no to their chubby dogs.’

Henry licks his lips, before he sinks in this top teeth in his bottom lip. Goodness gracious. Next time I run into Henry Cavill, I should bring some extra pair of panties.

Olivia, that is terrible, I shouldn’t think like that.

My daughter is here for crying out loud.

‘Mommy, have you seen a cuter dog today?’

‘Cuter than Kal you mean?’ I ask her.

‘Mhm.’

I chuckle. ‘Well, I’ve seen cute dogs, but no one is as cute as Kal.’

‘I think so too,’ Vanessa says. She pulls her hand out of mine, before holding out her arms for Henry.

I want to tell her that she can’t just expect him to carry her, simply because he is strong and he is Superman, but without any difficulties he lifts her up with only one arm. If I tried that, I’d dislocate my shoulder, but obviously it’s a piece of cake for him. I spend my fair share on Pinterest and YouTube, admiring his arms. And that clip of him building that PC? That was the hottest thing on earth and is nearly illegal.

‘I lost a tooth today,’ Vanessa says, showing off her teeth, probably sticking her tongue through the gap.

‘Wow, that is awesome,’ Henry says, leaning in to check if there is already a new tooth coming in. ‘You’re going to put it underneath your pillow, so the Tooth Fairy can give you some money?’

I can feel Vanessa’s hesitation. She looks over her shoulder and ushers me to get closer. ‘Mommy,’ she asks, still loud enough for Henry to hear, ‘should I tell him the truth?’

‘About what?’ I ask her.

‘He still believes in the Tooth Fairy.’

I bite my lips, to prevent myself from laughing out loud. ‘I think you should tell him.’

She nods and wraps an arm around Henry’s neck. ‘Mister Henry,’ she says, ‘the Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist. Mommy just gives me money when I lose another tooth.’

Henry looks at me, also visibly holding in a laugh. ‘The Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist?’ he ask in almost believable disbelieve, but then I remember: this man is an actor. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Mhm.’

‘I need to call my mother, to ask her why she lied to me all those years?’

Vanessa shakes her head. ‘Well, lots of kids still believe in the Tooth Fairy, so it’s okay that you did too.’

‘It was just time for you to know the truth,’ I add.

‘Well, thank you, miss Vanessa,’ Henry says. ‘Thank you for being honest with me.’

We arrive at the park and Henry and I sit on a park bench, while Kal runs wild, followed by a giggling Vanessa. I flinch a few times, thinking Kal is too wild to be playing with Vanessa, but he actually tones down a bit, checking in with her to make sure that she’s alright.

‘You have a sweet dog,’ I admit, not being able to look at Henry just yet. He is really close, I can almost feel the heat he is radiating through my coat, right onto my skin.

‘Yeah, he is sweet.’

‘And fat.’

‘Are you ever letting that go?’ Henry laughs.

I simply shrug. ‘I’m a vet, I just want the patients to be healthy.’ I try to look serious, but I can’t help but chuckle. ‘But I don’t think I can let it go, until Kal is sixty kilograms.’

‘But what if he is just a larger model?’ Henry tries, still not wanting to fully admit to the fact that he was overfeeding his pet and thus the main reason Kal is at least ten kilos too heavy.

‘He isn’t,’ I tell him. ‘He is large, sure, but I’ve seen American Akita’s who are a whole lot bigger than him, but still within the acceptable weight range.’

‘You’re one tough doctor, Olivia,’ he says with a smile. ‘You know, your daughter has quite the personality. Figured she’s just like you.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘Yeah, people often say we’re basically twins.’

‘The fact that you told her about the Tooth Fairy being fake is admirable,’ he says.

‘I wanted her to spare the trauma I experienced,’ I say. ‘Besides, I don’t like lying to her, though everyone says it’s part of growing up.’

Henry nods and I can feel he wants to ask it. It’s always in people’s body language, when they want to know about the family situation. They clear their throat, avoid eye contact, rub their hands together and when they ask the question, they tilt their heads.

I decide that I’m not ready for a head tilt by the one and only Henry Cavill. ‘Her biological father didn’t want her,’ I say. ‘He broke up with me and disappeared out of my life, if that’s what you wanted to know.’

He sighs, a blush on his face, as if he is embarrassed that I caught on, before he even asked. ‘I don’t think I can ever understand those kind of men,’ he admits, staring at his dog and Vanessa. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘I mean, she’s a great kid, very in touch with her feelings and pretty smart too. Her biological father doesn’t know what he is missing out on.’

I don’t think I can ever understand those kind men. Did he honestly just say that? My entire body temporarily forgot how to function. Henry Cavill out there trying to steal my heart and with the rate he is going at, I’m willing to hand it over to him without putting up a fight. Her biological father doesn’t know what he is missing out on. That one went straight to my soul.

‘Well, he was an idiot anyways,’ I mumble. ‘Think I’m better off without him.’ I stare at Vanessa, who is chasing Kal, whose tail is wagging and he jumps around her like an idiot.

‘You are really better off without him,’ he says to me. ‘I don’t know the asshole, but I do know for a fact that you are better off without him. And Vanessa for that matter.’

I feel giddy, like a child before her birthday. ‘Listen, Henry, I’m sorry if she’s overstepping any boundaries. If you don’t want to pick her up, you don’t have to.’

‘I don’t mind, Olivia,’ he says. ‘She’s not overstepping any boundaries.’

I nod, not sure what to say. This isn’t helping with my fantasies, that I keep pushing back, postponing them to completely erupt when I’m in bed tonight. Belle is right: he oozes family man.

‘You’re doing a great job,’ he then says.

‘With what?’

‘Raising her.’

My cheeks flush. When was the last time I heard this, from someone other than Belle? I don’t think anyone has ever told me really… Except that one nurse in the hospital, when Vanessa was three and shoved a bead up her nose and I couldn’t stop crying. That event totally made me doubt my parental skills, until the nurse said that she dropped her infant on his head and he turned out to be fine.

‘I’m trying,’ I say, looking at my hands.

‘And that’s good enough,’ Henry whispers, but loud enough for me to hear it.

I need to contain the urge to just jump him, kissing his soft looking lips and allowing him to do things to me that I hadn’t done in such a long time.

Thankfully I have Vanessa, who always knows the exact moment I need her. ‘Mom, I had a little accident.’

When I look up, I see that she didn’t pee herself, but that she fell into the mud.

Face first.

Great.

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[shawtygonemad]

SCARLET: Chapter 5

Daryl Dixon x OC (Rose Wagner)

Scarlet Playlist

Scarlet Masterlist

All good things never last. I should have known better by now. The first warning sign was when Daryl told me he'd be gone for a few days. Then the hairdresser, Jessie, snuck in to see me for a secret check up. The poor girl was bloodied and covered in bruises. Pete must be beating her which usually means he's also beating the kids. Instead of putting things to an end myself, I had told Rick. We both agreed with Carol - Pete had to die. The finishing touch this morning was my coffee.

We all still ate breakfast together as a family. However, it's been weird sleeping without Daryl by my side. I was up most of the night tossing and turning, just worrying about him out there. Because of this, I made sure to pour myself an extra large cup of coffee. Unfortunately, my nephew is an energetic teenage bull in a China shop. He bumped into me while running out the door causing me to spill burning hot coffee all down my arm. Everything bad always happens after I spill my coffee.

Glenn, Eugene, and Nick came back from their run. I was too busy focusing on Tara's concussed head to notice to absence of Noah, Aiden, and Samuel. It took me hours to get Tara stable. I was still soaked in blood when I stepped outside of the clinic for a quick smoke. Glenn and Rick approached me with solemn faces.

That's when I noticed the lack of my bubbly, rambunctious, best friend. They informed me that Aiden and Noah were killed. Samuel was presumed dead. He was swarmed trying to save Noah. It was all due to Nick.

My first instinct was to murder the bastard, but Rick literally had to hold me back. I guess we were already standing on thin ice with Deanna. I'd love to see her try to make us leave! Rick and I could take this place single handedly.

After the initial anger, in came the pain. I've lost many people to this world, Papa Hersch and Beth... but it didn't feel like this. This was like a scalding knife ripping through my chest. Samuel had my back, always. He saved me from becoming the blood thirsty queen Eden wanted me to be. He was family. I’m so sick of losing people that I love dearly.

I always thought I'd be the first one to lose it. Turns out Rick went first. He confronted Pete, which turned into a bloody brawl in the middle of the street. Pete was hovering over Rick, choking him while everyone stood back and cried, yelled, or just watched. That's when I finally snapped. I was done having my family members die.

Calmly, I walked over to a tool box sitting on a porch of a nearby house. I opened the lid and grabbed the first weapon I could. It so happened to be a box cutter. With determination, I strutted over to the brawl. I wrapped an arm around Pete's head and forcefully leaned it back as I slashed his throat open. His body shook and hemorrhaged as he lost liters of blood. The only noise I could hear was the sound of ringing and my rapid heartbeat. I knew people were screaming and everything was loud. However my adrenaline prevented me from hearing. With a swift move, I swung the blade down into his head, ending Pete before he could change.

I zoned back in when Rick drew a gun and pointed it at Deanna.

"Or what? You gonna kick her out?! You only have one doctor now," Rick yelled.

"Put that gun down, Rick," Deanna reasoned with a shaky voice as she held her hands up in surrender. The woman looked truly terrified, as she should be.

"You still don't get it," Rick panted. "None of you do! We know what needs to be done, and we do it. We're the ones who live. You," Rick spat as he pointed the gun around wildly. "You just sit and plan and hesitate. You pretend like you know when you don't!"

"You wish things weren't what they are," I added. "Well you wanna live? You want this place to stay standing?"

"Your way of doing things is done," Rick growled. "Things don't get better because you-- you want them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world."

"We have to control who lives here," I yelled as I gestured to Pete's lifeless body.

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now," Deanna stiffly said.

"Me? Me? You mean me?" I scoffed at the ridiculous woman.

"No, she ain't leaving," Rick stated. "Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed..."

"It's already gotten people killed!" I snapped.

"We're not gonna just stand by and let it happen. If you don't fight you die," Rick warned.

"We're not gonna stand by and-" I was cut off with a grunt as something metal slammed into the back of my head, knocking me out.

***

As it turned out, Deanna was holding a meeting with the people of Alexandria. They were to decide the fate of Rick and I. When I woke up, it was dark outside. Luckily enough, I stumbled out just in time to see Rick almost become zombie food. Together we took down the rest of the walkers. If these people wanted something to debate then we'd give it to them.

Rick and I silently entered the bonfire with a dead walker over our shoulders. We tossed it before the crowd, which caused them to gasp.

"There wasn't a guard on the gate," Rick heavily breathed, still full of adrenaline. "It was open.”

Deanna instantly glared at her other son, Spencer. She didn't like being made a fool.

"I asked Gabriel to close it," he said lamely.

"Go," she instructed.

"We didn't bring them in," Rick explained. "It got inside on its own."

"They always will," I chimed in.

"Both the dead and the living, because we're here," Rick continued. "And the ones out there... they'll hunt us. They'll find us."

"They'll try to use us," I helped to explain. "And they'll try to kill us. But we'll kill them!"

"We'll survive. We'll show you how," Rick encouraged, before taking a deep breath. "You know, I was thinking-- I was thinking how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives? But I'm not gonna do that. You're not gonna change."

Rick then turned to Deanna.

"I'm not sorry for what I said last night," Rick told her.

"Neither am I," I agreed as I stepped forward, next to my brother.

Rick gave me a small smile before continuing, "I'm sorry for not saying it sooner."

"You're not ready, but you have to be," I informed them.

"You have to be," Rick agreed. "Luck runs out."

We all paused as we heard footsteps approach. I turned toward the gate to see who was joining. It was an angry Nick, and he was gripping Michonne's katana. How many times do I have to kick this kid's ass for him to learn? Except this time I won't stop. I'll finish him off for Samuel.

"You're not one of us. You're not one of us," he growled.

Reg, Deanna’s husband, went to stand in front of him to intervene.

"Nicholas, just stop," Reg tried to calm him.

"Get the hell away from me, Reg," Nick warned as he kept stepping forward. "Get away, get away!"

There was a struggle. As Nick went to shove Reg away, the blade of the Katana slipped and slit his throat. Deanna screamed as she caught her profusely bleeding husband.

"Rick," Deanna cried. "Rose... do it."

Without another word, I strode forward and picked up the Katana. Abraham was holding a struggling Nick down. In a quick swing, the head came clean off. This caused even more cries, screams, and fright from the crowd. Neither Rick nor I cared as we stood there blood soaked. If this was how to get through to them, then so be it.

"Scarlet?" A voice called from the entrance.

I looked up to see a surprised black man standing with his staff. It was Morgan! He was one of the many wanderers that would pass through Eden. He was never really one for violence. Behind him stood Daryl and Aaron. Both looked at me with concern on their faces.

"Rick?" Morgan asked as he noticed my brother beside me.

What a small world this was.

***

Next Chapter

~ I just wanted to say thankful for the support so far. Your likes and reblogs keep me fueled. However you comments are the main driving force so please keep them coming! 🥰

[gardenflowerswriting]

Fucking Jelly (Syverson x Reader)

Summary: Reader is a Doctor who cannot stand the captain, yet when he asks for help, they can’t say no. 

Type: playfullbanter/fluff         Gif: andsowewalkalone               Word Count: 4k

You were threading a small stitch in a mans arm as you heard talking behind you, "this here is Y/L/N." You rolled your eyes, stopping to turn and see Syverson giving his tours to the new people, "go to her if you get a boo boo, she's good with those." You lowered your mask, "Fuck off Syverson, I'm busy." "She won't bite," his thick accent annoyed you to no end. You gave a joking silent laugh and flipped him off, your blue gloves too big for your hands. "Alright boys, this way." 

You tied off the ending of the string and gave the soldier some ibuprofen, lowering your mask and taking off your gloves, "read the label, and take what's prescribed," you picked up your clipboard and began writing, "if the pain does not subside, or you believe the injury to be infect, you must go to the base compound and be evaluated there. I do not have the supplies nor medication to deal with infections." You watched the blonde haired boy nod his head. You were just saying all the basic things they told you-you had to. You had that shit memorized verbatim. You wrote his info as you kept going, "I can provide you with alcohol pads that you can rub on them to clean them." You turned around to open the cabinet and hand them to him, "and for god fucking sake don't try to eat them or get drunk off them." He took them, and smirked "people do that?" You focused back on the form, "you would be surprised.” Returning to write down the soldiers name, “But, I'm done with you so can you get the next person if there is anyone?" "Yeah, thanks doc." You nodded your head and turned back to the small filing cabinet, you had to put his paper away and grab a fresh sheet. You washed your hands in the small sink and heard steps behind you as someone sat down, "alright," you got new gloves and you reached for your pen, turning, "what can I do for you toda-" you were stopped by a smiling Syverson dangling his feet off the one tall chair in the room. You dropped your shoulders, "What are you doing here?" "I came to see you doc." "Oh my god," you leaned against the tan cabinets, "For fucks sake? You know I have actual people to see and help, not you?" His brows moved together, "what? With the little needle you carry around?" You locked your jaw, "I could do a lot with that needle, and that's what they supply me with. Maybe if they gave me more I could do more." He smiled, lifting his hand to shoo away the conversation, "no ones out there anyway. Thought I'd ask you a question." You rolled your eyes, "Syverson, if you're gonna ask me to go on a date you know the answer already." He smirked, "now doc, is that all you think about? A captain asking you on a date," you crossed your arms and glared at him. You could see him try and hold in his laugh, "no, I do have a question, a real one." You raised your brow watching, waiting, "you know a lot about human biology?" "I'm here aren't I?" "Oo, doc no need to get sour on me, I just need you to take a look at one of the dogs that we found outside." You moved your brows together, "a dog? . . I don't know anything about dogs." "Yeah, well you know about humans, they're pretty close are they not?" You stared at him in disbelief, "what? No." "Come on, a quick look, you liked Aika, this dog is no different." You sighed, Aika was cute, and when you could, you made sure to play with her outside. "You never asked me to examine Aika." "I did not say 'examine'" You narrowed your eyes, "then what do you want." He smiled, "we might have some pups coming soon." Your face went flat, "the dog is pregnant?!" "Come on doc, ain't nobody in the hall for you, take a 10 minute break?" You stared at him, trying to decide if you should trust him or not. Finally, rolling your eyes you lifted yourself off the cabinets, "where's the dog?" He smiled, "follow me." You kept your gloves on as he led you through three hallways to his room. He got a room to himself, bastard, so he was somewhat far off from everyone else, "she's been here for a while and only moved to get eat or drink." He pushed the door open and you were greeted with Aika, "hi babes." You spoke softly at her as you began to scratch behind her ear.  She jumped up on you, "Aika down!" His tone was sharp and stern, like he was talking to soldiers who were under him. You gave him a side eye, "she's fine, you know that." "I'm trying to teach her not to do that," he sighed, "this way." He guided you to a bigger dog, fatter in her belly and her nipples were prominent, "you needed me to tell you she's pregnant?" Now this just seemed like a set up to get you in his room.  You bent down to kneel by her side, "No," you scratched her stomach lightly, she looked like Aika, but with the obvious belly. Her fur was also almost all black, "I need you to tell me when she'll give birth. She whines a lot at night and like I said she don't move." You looked up at him, and almost laughed, "Syverson," his stern features didn't shift, "I'm a doctor, not a vet? I have no idea when she'll give birth." He crossed his arms and you rose back to your feet, "all I can say is to wait it out. She will when those pups are ready." He put his hand to his mouth before scratching his chin through his thick beard, thinking, "I can't raise puppies." You smiled at him, "I'll help," he gave you a coy look. Which in turn, made you side eye him, "oh sweetie not for you," looking back down at the soon to be mom, who was panting in the heat, "for the puppies." He grunted and you looked back at him, "what'll you name her?" He squinted down at the dog, "I don't know yet. . . what's your middle name?" "Syverson-" You drew out his name, annoyed.  "No seriously, what is it?" You rolled your eyes, "Y/M/N." (Your/middle/name) "Settles it," he knelt down to the dog and rubbed behind her ears, "Y/M/N," he looked up to you and smiled. After then, you didn't think of the momma anymore, while Syverson constantly made sure to bring her up on your radar. But, today you had seen twenty-two guys which was far from normal, and being you were the only one on base who knew how to give proper stitches and offer medical care in your make shift clinic, you wanted to sleep. Your room was with some of the other female soldiers, but they were nice to you so you didn't care too much. As you were getting ready for bed, you brushed your teeth, let your hair down from it's bun and got it a little wet, so it would return to its normal form. You looked in the mirror and felt dead, wearing a tan t-shirt with no bra and shorts that were too short, but wouldn’t be uncomfortable under your cargo pants (in the instance you needed to get dressed quick). You shuffled to your bed and closed your eyes. "Y/N," you felt your body shake furiously and in an instant, your eyes opened and you reached for the gun you kept at the side of your bed. "No," the dark figure grabbed at your arm and when you went to scream a strong hand covered your mouth, "aye! It's me! It's Syverson." You squinted at the figure and could make out the beard, "Shumveson?" It was muffled because of his hand. He put his finger to his mouth, "shh, you gotta come with me." "Hmm?" Again, the idiot had his hand over your mouth. They really let the dumbest people be captains. "Y/M/N." It took you a minute but then you remembered and nodded your head. "Come on." He let go of your mouth and backed up. When you stood to walk, you whimpered from the pain in your feet, but you followed him to his room, the walk was silent except for your cries of pain. "I think she's having them, I gave her my shirt to lay on." You looked over to his body, "is that why you are suddenly without clothes?" He didn't wear a shirt and only his cargo shorts, which were loosely hanging around his waist. He rolled his eyes at you, "says the girl who's boobs and ass are hanging out." You moved your brows together and felt slightly self conscious, but turned your attention to the dog. "I need you to go to my office and grab two sets of gloves, and probably some Benadryl. Get me some food too." You lowered to be level with the dog. "You're hungry right now?" "Are you dumb? It's to put the pills in and feed to her. Go!" He did as you said and all you could do was scratch as the girls face, "shh, baby," she let out whimpers and you were afraid she would wake people up. He came back and dropped the materials next to you, "get the gloves on when the puppies start to come." He nodded his head and sat down on your free side, "okay baby, we're gonna help you." You looked to Syverson, "she should know how to do this herself, so it's just waiting. But when the puppies are all out, we will figure out the genders then lay them next to her so she can clean them, keep them warm, and let them eat," he nodded his head, receiving all your orders, "get the food you brought and lather them up in Benadryl." "Can dogs have that?" "yes, and it's all we have," she whimpered again and you both looked down to her. He shifted to grab something from the side of his bed, and when you looked, it was a jar of jelly. You almost gasped, "what the hell? You have jelly?!" He cracked the lid open and used his finger to scoop out a chunk, looking to you, "what? My mom mailed it over." You were still jealous. "I hate you," you muttered. He gave her two pills and you both sat watching on the cold tile floor, it was like watching water boil. After about half and hour, he jumped, exclaiming: "I see a head!" You put your hand over his mouth, "she needs to be at peace right now! Don't disrupt her." You felt his tongue against your palm, which made you with draw quickly, "ew!" He smiled, "you liked it." You could only roll your eyes, but you felt his arm wrap around your back pulling you to sit in between his legs, "look," his voice was deep in your ear, which almost put you in a sleepy trans. But you followed to where his finger was pointing, which was to the small head of puppy coming out. You smiled, sitting criss-cross in between his thick body, "you're gonna be a dad." You spoke softly. You could see his hands rest on his knees, "damn, that makes you the step mama." You couldn't help but laugh, while shaking your head, knowing he smiled at you from behind You didn't notice it, but as the longer you both watched the puppies arrive, the deeper you were in his lap. You laid your head against his fury chest while he rested one hand behind him to support you both and the other laid gently against your body. You had gotten so tired, you jumped when his deep voice rose again, vibrating against your head, "you think she's done." You rose quick and looked around, darting to her and the puppies surrounding her nipples to drink. "Um," you rubbed your eyes, "yeah. We can count them and know the genders I guess." "Alright," he shifted from his position, "we could've moved to the bed instead of making me sit on the hard ass floor." You shook your head, "I didn't mean to fall asleep," you yawned a little, looking over at him, "what time is it?" He checked his watch, "4:08" you nodded and moved closer to Y/M/N, he was close behind you, settling at your side as you both looked at her in awe. "Good job babe," you rubbed her head, she welcomed it and kept her mouth open panting. You could hear him getting his gloves on, "Let's see," he picked up one and checked the underside, "girl." You looked to the puppy, her little eyes were still closed and she was so tiny in his hands, "what's gonna be her name?" He took a long look at her, "Doc . . . for doctor." You rolled your eyes and met his gaze, "i want to keep this one and for her name to be doc." He looked so serious about it that you felt your heart pick up. You shuffled closer to him and watched as he set the puppy down, "fine, but the next ones name is gonna be cap for captain." You knew he was smiling, and by the end of you guys going back in forth with names, you had seven puppies, four girls (Doc, Ivy, Ace, and Lyn) with three boys (Cap, Sage and Hendrix). By the time you were done arguing on the names, it was 4:42 AM. You both got up at six hundred hours normally, and you knew if you fell asleep you'd be out. "What some coffee?" He asked after you two were done admiring the cute little puppies and their whimpers. You nodded your head, "you can sit on the bed, it's softer," he got up and disappeared from the room. You scooted to the mattress and first thing you noticed was how much nicer it was than your own. You leaned your head against the wall and when he came back with two mugs you gave him a glare, "your own room, a jar of jelly, and a soft ass bed." He smiled, handing you the cup, "it pays to have a momma that loves ya, and I guess a good position." You rolled your eyes and blew on the coffees surface, watching the steam rise from it. He picked up the container in one hand and tossed it on your crossed legs, "take it." You looked up at him and he walked towards you, laying down next to you, putting his weight on his elbow so he could look at you. You felt yourself frown, "I can't take it." He shook his head, "that's what I'll pay you in, Berry jelly." "Pay me?" He smiled, taking a sip of the black coffee, "for helping." That almost made you snort, "I fell asleep? Really Sy, you should have it, it's from your family. I'm good with the beans and noodles." "Let me see it," he rested his coffee on the bed, letting it sit against his chest as you handed him the jar and he unscrewed the top, showing you the delicious looking substance. You felt your mouth water, "take some." When he could tell you were resilient, he nudged it closer to you again. You pulled one hand from your coffee mug and let two fingers dig into the jar, coming out with a beautiful scoop of the substance. He watched closely as you put your fingers in your mouth and moaned, which made him all the more tentative. His eyes scanned over your body, and took a long glance at your chest knowing you weren't wearing a bra. Your eyes were closed as you threw you head back against the wall, "that good?" It was so sweet and tart at the same time, it almost made you feel like you were in his hometown. You could imagine him picking berries for the mixture and helping to smash them with his mom, it was so cute. When you finally opened your eyes, your smile was giddy, "like an orgasm." "Well doc if I would've know it was that easy I would've given it to you the first day I saw you." You looked straight at the paint chipped wall, still feeling in a daze of jelly happiness, as you shook your head, "no, you could never get me like that." He watched your every move, licking his lips, "wanna make that a bet." Your head shifted down to him, and you looked at him with the most loving eyes he had ever seen, "this was fun." Before lowering to kiss his cheek, you stopped at his ear, "I'll come by tonight and look at how the kids are doing?" He nodded his head and you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was quick, but it left a warm print on his skin, and made your chin rub against his beard. "Bye Sy." He hummed, and watched you lift yourself from his bed. He watched your ass as you tiptoed and opened his door lightly, giving him one last glance before you disappeared into the hall. "Fuck." He muttered looking to the jar he laughed, "fucking jelly." 

[debu-neko-kun]

Brand New Moo

A brand new story, idea courtesy of the ever-excellent commissioner (https://www.deviantart.com/doom7951) I really really liked working on this for ideas that may be obvious! Stay tuned for more flubby boys soon-ish! Contains: male weight gain, ssbhm, male lactation, human to boy-cow, cute fat gay stuff

James slumped down in the seat. It felt so wrong to be waiting here, he thought, thinking about what his boss would say if he saw him sitting here… he tapped his foot on the floor, hoping that would make him feel busy, but it just earned him a dirty look from the receptionist, so he opted to just slump deeper into his chair.

“James Rode?”

He sat up, smoothing out his button-up shirt. “Yes?”

“The doctor is available to see you now. Please enter the door to the left.”

James entered the office, expecting to see a sterile hospital room with gurneys and little jars of tongue depressors… Instead, he found himself in a carpeted room, the walls all wood paneling and decorated with diplomas and woodsy paraphernalia like bundles of herbs and wooden carvings.

Perhaps he knew less about this therapy stuff than he thought.

“Hello, Mr. Rode. I’m pleased to see you’ve made it; have a seat, if you’d like.”

James hesitated by the door. ‘I would *like* to go home…’ he mumbled, but stepped his way to the wide couch situated in front of the desk. He gently lowered himself into it, feeling more than a little small with his slender frame surrounded by so much empty seat.

“A little introduction, if I may.” the therapist smiled, tapping the plaque on his desk. “Dr. Maxwell Sweet. I used to own Sweet Farm Dairy, if you can believe it.”

“Never heard of it.” James spoke.

“Ah, well, can’t impress every time.” he chuckled, continuing on about his schooling, but James was already zoning out, sizing him up in his head. Dr. Sweet was slim, pale, well-dressed… probably didn’t spend too much time outside anymore, if the dairy story was to be believed. He wore glasses, making him seem bookish, and the clean-shaven face and well-kempt part in his smoothly combed brown hair made him seem concerned with appearances… not much to go on yet, but James felt like he’d make a respectable adversary in the boardroom regardless.

“…but I felt genetics wasn’t as fulfilling by itself. Are you okay, Mr. Rode?”

“Hmm?” James snapped out of his focused expression, taking a moment to rub his sharp blue eyes. “Sorry, a little tired. Late meeting yesterday…”

“Do you have a lot of late meetings, Mr. Rode?”

“James,” he corrected, “But yeah, I suppose I do. It’s the only way to stay ahead out there, you know?”

“I understand.” Dr. Sweet smiled, scribbling something on a pad on his desk. “Would you say this is the main source of your stress? The pressure to succeed, that is.”

“I, uh-” James stammered. “Are we starting already? I thought you would say when we were starting.”

“Just building a picture, that’s all. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let you know when we get into the real stuff, if you’d like.”

“Okay, well… thanks.” James wilted a little. He wasn’t used to this, showing his cards so openly…

“Stress is the main reason you’re here, correct?”

“Yes… I mean, well, I’m here because of my boyfriend… I didn’t notice anything, but my boyfriend Kriss says I’ve been acting stressed.”

“Stressed in what way?”

“Distant… angry, sad, stuff like that. He says I haven’t been eating either, but I mean, when do I have the time? There’s just a lot to do, and nobody gets that. Nobody understands how hard it is to keep doing the same damn thing day after day, never getting a moment to just stop and relax. It’s not my fault I have to stay a few hours over every day, it’s not my fault I miss the train, it’s not my fault I have to stay with this job or else-”

James stopped, noticing the psychologist watching him intently, a furrowed-brow intensity in his expression.

“Sorry.” James sighed, folding his arms over his ribs, his gaze drifting back to the dried lavender on the wall. “Yeah. Just stressed.”

“I see,” Dr. Sweet said, underlining something on the pad with a quick scratch. “Well, I’m very glad you came to see us, James. I think this treatment will be very helpful in getting you into a better state of mind.”

“Yeah… that’s what Kriss said, too. What is this treatment, anyway? Are you just going to ask me about my past and… give advice, or something?”

“Oh, nothing like that, no. You see, I specialize in a sort of blended treatment. It’s quite ahead of its field, really. Good for people with a lot of stress and little time on their hands.”

Dr. Sweet drew a pile of papers out of his desk, dozens of forms and documents all neatly compiled into a novella of legalese. He set it gently on the desk, in front of James, and extended a pen out for him.

“…Provided you’re willing to participate, that is.”

James took the pen and the papers, sitting back to read over the front page. It was mostly filled out with his insurance information and medical history, employment information from his company, current address… everything except his name. He flipped it over, just finding more information about liability and “understanding patient responsibilities.” Just thinking about pouring over fifty sheets of legal information outside of the office, and for free, made him flip back to the front.

“Alright… well, whatever gets me out of here faster, I guess.” he murmured, scribbling his name at the bottom of the paper.

“Excellent! If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started immediately.”

Dr. Sweet’s drawer slid open, and out he pulled a small bottle of milky white fluid and a syringe.

“W-What is that for?” James asked, shocked at the sudden development. The therapy scenes in movies certainly hadn’t mentioned needles.

“Just something to help you become a little more pliable. We need you like putty for the hypnotherapy to take hold; don’t worry, it only lasts for a few minutes, and it’ll keep you relaxed for the rest of the day. That’s not so bad, is it? I promise you won’t have to keep up with any medication from here on out.”

Despite the cold sweat forming on his brow, James rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. Dr. Sweet drew some of the liquid from the bottle with a casual precision, stood up, and slowly approached the nervous patient.

“Hold still, and…” James felt a small pinch, followed by the dull ache of the injection. “That’s it. You’ve done wonderfully already, James.”

“Hmm… thank you, I guess.” he grumbled, letting out a heavy sigh.

“The medication should activate momentarily. While we wait, why don’t we pass the time with a bit of word association?”

The room around them was already starting to feel a bit… warmer. Familiar, even. He adjusted his collar a bit, leaning back against the couch.

“Do you know how this works, James?”

“I just say the first thing that comes to my head?” he asked, stifling a yawn with his palm.

“Correct. Alright now… your first word is “barn.””

“Tractor.”

“Good.” Sweet smiled. “Your second word is ‘pasture.’”

“Uh… grass. No, hay.” He muttered hazily. He felt like laying himself down on a soft patch of land, sunlight warming his pale flesh,,,

“Very good, James. Don’t think too hard about them. Now, your third word… ‘milk’.”

“Moo…” he spoke dreamily, still thinking about the sunlight and the field. A bubble of lucidity popped to the surface suddenly, bringing a blush to his face. “N-No, I, uh, I mean cow. Cow, that’s it.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Sweet continued, scribbling more notes on his pad. “And when you think of cows, what are some words you think of?”

“Big… u-uh, soft? I don’t really know…”

“That’s fine, James. Imagine a cow standing in a field… what do you think it’s thinking about?”

A warm, electric tingle trickled down from the top of his head, flowing into his spine and down his back. He tried to focus on the words… what does a cow really think about?

“Uhm… eating? How nice the sun is on its back?…”

“And how do you think it feels when it’s warm and fed? Do you think that would make a cow happy, James?”

The tingle turned into an odd, pulsing sensation, coming from somewhere in his core… or maybe deeper than that. A warmth in his cells.

“Y-Yeah… doctor, this feels… weird…”

“The medication can be a little strong, especially the first time. But just focus on my words… would that make you happy, James? Softness, warmth, food… nothing to think about but being tended to? I like to think so.”

“Hmf… y-yeah, that’d be nice…”

Soft… warm… hungry…

“Good,” Sweet began, suddenly dropping his pen. James jolted upright, forced free from his mental drift as quickly as the pen hit the desk. “That’ll conclude our session. Remember what we’ve talked about today; it’s always good to stay in touch with that simple, wholesome part of yourself. Try and slow down a little, and indulge it; I think you’ll be feeling a lot better if you do. See you again in a week?”

“Y-Yeah… yes, that’d be fine.”

“I look forward to it. Be well, James.”

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

The sun was just beginning to set by the time James arrived home. Warm wafts of sweet and savory air swept around him as he shuffled through the threshold, inviting him straight through the living room and into the kitchen. There, a tall, clean-shaven man with swept back blonde hair stood, whistling to himself. The creak of the floor alerted him to James’s entrance, the apron-clad gentlemen turning to greet him.

“Oh, hey! I thought for sure you’d be running a little late, I’m not totally done with dinner yet. How did your appointment go?”

“Mm, that smells wonderful…” James murmured, slumping into one of the dining chairs. “God, I’m starving….”

“Here,” Kriss, his boyfriend of two years, spoke, setting a dish of buttered buns in front of him. “But don’t fill up before you get to the ham. I worked really hard on it as a nice reward for you finally going to that clinic. Speaking of…”

Kriss sat down in front of him as he stuffed a bun into his mouth, propping his face up on his hand. “You didn’t say how it went.”

“The appointment? Right, sorry… it was okay. Good, actually. It was good. It was kind of weird, and I didn’t think I’d need a shot for psychotherapy, but… it was nice. I feel all calm and… gooey? I can’t really explain it… really hungry, too. Mostly hungry, actually.”

James reached for another bun, nibbling on it gently. 

“Well, I guess it’s working already. I haven’t seen you eat like that in… well, ever. It’s nice, honestly.” 

The oven alarm beeped as James polished off a third bun, absentmindedly chewing while Kriss got up to retrieve the ham. 

Soft… warm… hungry… the words bounced around his brainstem, burying themselves somewhere in the middle of sub and thoughtful consciousness. He remembered saying them, but the meaning was mostly detached… regardless, they just sounded so right. 

His ruminations were interrupted by a loaded plate being placed in front of him, also interrupting his roll supply. He breathed in the delicious scents of brown sugar in the ham, cinnamon in sweet potatoes. It was like nothing he’d ever smelled before; it was comfort, it was calm. It was… “Mmf, Kriss, this is incredible. Is this a new recipe? I could eat this forever!” he lit up, happily nibbling on the ham slice with gusto. 

“Oh, uh… we had it last week, actually. Whatever they gave you sure made you hungry, huh?” he chuckled, looking a little confused, but relieved at the new development. After all, it was healthier than watching him starve himself on coffee and the occasional stick of gum. In only a few moments, James had the entire plate polished off, and returned to munching on bread rolls. “Want some more? I made extra in case you wanted to take some to work, but-” “There’s more?” 

Kriss hadn’t seen him this happy since he’d said yes to their first date. 

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

“A-Ah, Kriss-!” 

“Shh, we’re almost there.” Kriss cooed, shouldering the bedroom door open, his boyfriend carried bridal-style in his arms. Normally, this would be like carrying a bag of flour, but after his uncharacteristic gorging, James felt more like a sack of potatoes. Or, perhaps, one large sack filled with one very large, round, painfully full potato in the center. 

“I’ve never eaten so much in my life…” James whispered as he laid out on the bed. He immediately curled onto his side, holding his stomach in his hands. “I can tell… are you sure you’re okay, babe? You can tell me anything, you know.” “I-I’m fine, honestly… just ate too much.” 

“You know that’s not what I mean.” A familiar silence crept out of the dark now, cutting into the dim room between them. Finally, James spoke, “Kriss, I just- well, I’m not good at this, I haven’t… been there, like I should have. We’ve been together for a long time now and I still haven’t really… opened up.” Kriss sat down on the bed next to him, looking at the sheets next to James. James reached out, grabbing Kriss by the hand. “I’m sorry. Really. I’ve been too into my job and I want to spend more time with moo-”

He hiccupped, covering his mouth in sudden embarrassment. “You! God, I’ve had cows on the brain lately…” 

“You certainly eat like one.” Kriss smiled gently, poking his stomach. “H-Heh… so, uhm,” James said, “Will you give me another chance? To show you the real me… not the work me. Actually me?” Kriss leaned over, brushing the tousled hair out of James’s face. “Of course, sweetpea. You know I’ll give you all the time you need to get back in your own head again. And while you’re still trying…” 

Kriss cupped his cheek, and leaned in to plant a little kiss on his soft lips. “Maybe I can do something to keep you motivated.” 

“C-Careful, my belly’s still sensitive…!” 

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

Kriss woke before James-- given his “work early, work late” schedule, this was an uncommon occurrence, but not an unwelcome one. He liked the way James looked peacefully slumbering; it reminded him that he could still stop and relax, that at least he wasn’t hard-wired to run until he dropped. That the hamster wheel didn’t spin forever. He snuggled up closer to his slumbering partner’s back, looping his arm around his side in a gentle embrace. Kriss’s fingers brushed his chest, expecting to feel cool, taut flesh on ribs… instead, his hand touched soft, plush breast. 

“H-Huh?” he muttered, startled, his hand recoiling instantly. He knew James, and had never known him to be any more than twiggy at best. Panic rising, he threw off the sheets and flipped on the bedside lamp, exposing the tubby imposter. There, on the bed, was James-- or, at least, he thought it was… same messy black hair, same little blotchy brown birthmark on his shoulder, same pink underwear. This James would have been a perfect replica, if it weren’t for one big thing: 

This James was fat. 

Well, fat was pushing it, but he definitely had a lot more of it than when he went to bed. His back, once a bony map of shoulder blades and ribs, was now a padded mat of pale pudge, the vaguest hint of love handles forming at his sides. Butt fat pulled his briefs tight, the waistband receding back to squish the tops of his cheeks into two blubbery cupcake tops. His thighs, once slender and toned from his constant jogging around the office building, smooshed together like gently dimpled bags of thick jelly. 

“Mmmn?...” he stirred, sitting up. His round face squinted against the harsh light, and he raised a chubby hand to shield himself from it. Kriss’s green eyes darted up to his rounded arm, down to his puffy chest, back up to his cutely dimpled chin, back down to the subtle dome of his belly. 

“Kriss?... Oh no, did I oversleep?”

The words clogged in Kriss’s head; what could he say? James was nervous, prone to panic at the slightest change… “You’re… you-” he choked quietly, staring in disbelief. James, following his line of sight to his belly, let out a little yelp of surprise. 

“W-What happened to me? I-I didn’t eat that much, did I?...” he stammered, poking the peachy flesh of his abdomen gingerly. 

“Impossible…” Kriss whispered, stepping back towards his boyfriend. “Maybe it’s just… water weight? Temporary swelling? Are you allergic to anything?” 

Pressing the gentle swell of his arm, it was impossible to think this could just be temporary. “I don’t think so…”

“Well, in any case, I think we should call a doctor.” Kriss said, stepping over to the dresser. “If I can find my phone…” 

“Just… use mine.” It took a moment to tear his eyes away from his freshly-plush body long enough to reach for his cell, thumb tapping the home screen. The time-- 5:55 am-- appeared on the screen.

“Oh! No no no, I’m going to be late!” 

“James, the doctor-” 

“I’ll go after work! I need to get ready; how did I forget the early meeting? I never forget!” 

James scrambled to his feet, butt bouncing in his underwear as he bounded into the bathroom, the door shutting quickly behind him. “Kriss, can you find a white shirt for me, please? And my good watch!” 

“If they still fit…” Kriss mumbled with a sigh, shuffling to find his clothes. So much for the fast-track relaxation therapy. 

‘Give it time,’ he thought, ‘Nobody changes overnight.’

But as he pulled out the obviously too-small button-up from the closet, he suddenly began to doubt these words. 

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

James rushed into the office, speed-walking his way through the lobby to the elevator. He barely managed to squeeze by in time for the doors to shut, his belly bumping against the metal as he slipped in. 

“Ouch…” he murmured, regarding his sensitive new softness with a little rub. It was only with this did he notice how stressed the buttons were on the shirt, or how a thin sliver of belly fat was drooping out of the bottom. He quickly pulled his pants higher to disguise it, tucking in the shirt like he wasn’t covering for a freak medical condition. Not like it helped much… the fabric was still ungodly tight against his chest, outlining his newly-blossomed moobs like half-filled water balloons in cloth, and similarly highlighted the uncharacteristically pudgy belly beneath. At least his pants had always been a little big for him… they, at least, did a little better at preserving his modesty. 

He waited impatiently for the ding, and squeezed through the doors before they’d fully opened, managing to narrowly avoid two coworkers on his way to the meeting room. They said something he didn’t quite hear, but he heard the word “wide”, which was enough to make him flush gently. No time for that, he thought, walking as fast as he could muster with what felt like fifty extra pounds bouncing on his frame. Sweating lightly, he finally arrived at the meeting room, slipping in just before the last coworker. They scoffed at his speedy entrance, but upon seeing his unusually rounded face, decided that it wasn’t worth starting a fight over-- he was clearly suffering enough if he looked like *that* after just one day. 

“Well, ladies and gentlemen…” James’s boss began, addressing the crowd. And so it was, James thought, letting the voices around him whisper out into the back of his mind. He’d wait until his name was called, he’d give his report, and then he’d be back to hammering out the numbers until home time. The daily routine… though, there was nothing ‘routine’ about today, as the chair was quick to remind him. Where he used to sit at the edge of the seat, he now filled it out plentifully; so much so that the chair arms touched his sides if he fidgeted an inch or so in either direction. It was an alien feeling, being so plump- he couldn’t even bring himself to say it, but the words hung there in his mind. 

Round. Chubby. Soft. Thick. *Fat.* 

He grabbed his thigh amidst his anxious ruminating, fingers squishing pliable blubber beneath the trouser fabric. The sensation sent warm, pleasing tingles across his flesh, rumbling deep into his core. It felt… nice? 

He scanned the room, making sure nobody could read the feelings passing through his mind and body, but everyone else seemed to be knee-deep in their own happy places too; zoning out to cope was half of the job, after all. A sudden, deep gurgle bubbled in his belly, his hand shooting up to grab at his belly. Where his thigh had been plush, his belly was absolutely pillowy… the silky smooth glob of fat oozed around his fingers where he pressed, sending out another wave of delight across his body. As if to respond to his pressing, another gurgle rumbled against his palm, and he could feel his stomach rising like slow baked dough with his breaths. In, out… warm, soft. He couldn’t help but smile, sucked into the world of squishy comfort. Even as his belly rose in the *out* breath. Even as the chair began to press into his sides ever so softly. Even as the buttons stressed and strained, struggling to keep up with his widening form until- 

*PING* The first button on his shirt reflected off a steel mug, snapping everybody out of their stupor with a jolt. 

“What was that?” the boss asked. Everybody looked around, but thankfully James’s airy belly was covered by the desk. 

“Hmm… well, in any case, that’s the long and short of it.” the boss shrugged, shuffling some papers in his hands. “James, you’re up.” 

James looked up, half-lidded in a relaxed daze. “Huh?...” 

“Your numbers. You *do* have your report, don’t you?” 

Like an apple in a cauldron of caramel, the thought of the report slowly bobbed back to the top of his focus. 

“O-Oh, right, yes sir, I uh…”

He reached for his briefcase, grasping at air beneath the desk. 

“Is everything alright, James?” 

Everybody in the room shuffled, slumped, retreated back to the comfort of the sounds and sights of desert islands and snowy cabins. Meanwhile, he was out in the open, and floundering. 

“They’re, uh… late. Late client.” he smiled nervously. The boss looked at him, eyes narrowed in confusion, but simply shook it off. 

“Just have them on my desk by tomorrow, okay? Now, who’s next?” 

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

Back at his desk, (and with his pants hiked higher than ever) James let out a deep sigh, wincing as his buckle pinched sensitive belly fat. 

“Just keep it together, James....” he whispered to himself. He tried to bounce his leg, but found that it just made the rest of him bounce too, and stopped. He logged into his computer with one hand, the other squeezing the stress ball on his desk, but it only reminded him of how much softer he was… 

Throwing the ball in the trash can by his foot, he decided his best bet was to focus on his work. Not on the fat ass threatening to blow out the seat of his pants, not on the small overhang his belly would surely be creating if he wore his pants correctly. And not on the strange warmth rushing to his head… just financial information, market watches, and emails. 

Five minutes later, and he was still staring at his home screen, unable to bring himself to start working. There was just something at the back of his mind, something creeping up on him; a deep hunger that swelled up inside of him like a consumptive balloon. 

“That’s it… just hungry is all…” he assured himself, pushing away from his desk. All he needed was an early lunch, and it would be back to work as usual. Something light��

Before he knew it, he was sitting down at the cafeteria with three hefty cheeseburgers and a heaping plate of thin fries drowned in cheese. 

James took a thick, mouth-filling bite of a burger, losing himself in bliss. 

“Mmf, so good…” he moaned to himself, prompting a blushing intern to speedwalk to the exit. One hefty gulp down, he sucked down a glob of sugary vanilla milkshake, chasing it with a handful of fries and another bite of burger. Not only did it chip away at the hunger, but his worry too. Suddenly he felt okay; eating like this felt *right*. He absentmindedly rubbed his belly, the gentle touch enough to rip away another button and rub cheese onto his shirt. He didn’t care; why should he? The belly beneath his hand was soft, fat, and jiggly, and it was fun to pat and wobble. And the more he ate, the more he was able to wobble it. One burger down-- and another button popped-- he felt twice as comfortable. Arm fat billowed out in his shirt, small rips forming that pushed dollops of fat through. Pant fibre finally reached capacity, pulling back from his pudgy calves as his thighs claimed ever more real estate within them. Fingers and toes chubbed into cute little sausages. Wrists, ankles, and neck slowly became less defined. Cheeks chubbed, chin flubbed; his masculinity was smudged by the heaps of fat, androgyny taking the wheel. 

But still he munched, a happy grin on his face as he grazed the haystack of fries. The warm feeling in his head turned hot, two points burning the warmest… but two points on his chest gained his attention the most. His chest-- rather, his breasts-- ached terribly, prompting a whine from the freshly cherubic gentleman. Pudgy fingers pawed at the last button left on his shirt, but it was simply too tight to be undone. Instead, he opted to just rub at his moobs beneath the fabric, gulping his shake heartily. Finally, the button popped, and he let out a sigh of relief as his fat breasts plapped onto his belly. The sudden motion forced milk out of the little pink nipples in small rivulets, drops running down the curve of the swollen mounds and dripping onto his belly. 

“G-Guh…” he groaned, scooping the last of the food into his maw just as his belt buckle burst off. He was exhausted, but sated… for now. Already, his mind was feeling clearer, and already he was starting to regret the sudden gorging… he was huge! And was that�� milk?! “Sir, if you’re going to be in here, you need to put on some clothes-” 

The security guard looked taken aback as James turned and unsteadily rose, his pants open and his shirt hanging free. His ass fat rose behind him like two fat pumpkins squeezed into a pair of briefs, rising up with plentiful flesh visible. 

“A-Are you okay?...” 

James huffed, wobbling on his feet as he attempted to center himself. “I’m- *bruuuarp* o-oh, sorry…” 

The guard just stood, watching him slowly lumber out of the cafeteria and off towards the elevator. 

“They don’t pay me enough for this…” 

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

The slow drive was filled with a quiet anxiety, wondering if Kriss was right: what if he had just gone to the doctor in the first place? Why didn’t he just go to a real hospital to see why he was dripping milk all over the upholstery? That was it, though. He knew why he was like this… where else could it have come from? 

Doctor Sweet. 

Sweat dripped from his apron of a belly as he squeezed in through the front door. The receptionist simply buzzed him through, and he waddled straight into the pastoral office. 

“Aha, James! Right on schedule. Please, have a seat.” 

James panted heavily, taking the time to rest on the doorway before he entered. 

“What… did you do?” he huffed, continuing on towards the desk. “Look at me! This… has to be some kind of reaction… to that medicine!” 

The doctor smiled, unfazed by his bloated appearance. “I’ll say. I’d be more than willing to explain it, if you’d just have a seat.” 

James stopped, the exhaustion he felt quickly overtaking his urges towards aggression. “F-Fine…” 

The massive boy collapsed in the seat like a falling boulder, nearly taking up the whole couch with his bulk. 

“Excellent. Now then… you said there was a reaction, yes?” 

James gestured to his body. 

“So… chills, fever…?” 

“I’m fat! I’m huge! I’m… l-leaking!” he burst out, wobbling in anger. Try as he might to seem imposing, he felt like a bowl of pudding. 

“Oh. Oh dear, I see the problem… you must’ve skipped the waiver.” Dr. Sweet sighed, shaking his head.  “Well, too late for take backs now, I’m afraid.” 

James put his hands on his belly in worry. “W-What do you mean?”

“Well, if you’d read the waiver… you’d see that this therapy involves a permanent genetic alteration.”

“G-Genetic?...”

“Yes. We force a mutation-- I won’t get too deep into it now, there’s really no use-- to shave off the rough edges, essentially. I felt it would be important in your case to emphasize the potential for softness, and it seems your body agreed. Surround yourself with soft, and become soft.”

“That… that’s-” James struggled, trailing away quietly. 

The doctor continued. “You see, I was like you at a time. Angry, frustrated, stressed, upset at life… but my time as a dairy worker gave me new insight. Being surrounded by gentle docility at all hours of the day taught me to be gentle and caring myself. But this process took years... once I started in medicine, I spent endless hours trying to find how to distill this process into a formula, to turn the experience into a chemical.” 

James watched him with confusion, hands gently kneading his fat to keep himself calm. 

“Well, I discovered it alright. It’s a bit unwieldy, but with a little guided thinking, it works wonders. Really brings the farm experience home, wouldn't you agree?”

James looked down at his belly, at his nipples streaming milk onto his bellybutton. “Y-You’re saying I’m turning into…”

“A cow, yes. You’re well on your way, in fact. Here, take a look.” 

The doctor withdrew a handheld mirror from his desk, and held it up for James to see. He felt like he was staring into a barber mirror, only instead of finding himself with a new haircut, it was fuzzy cow ears and a set of tiny, nubby horns on his head. And somehow, it didn’t feel wrong… in fact, he felt pretty cute.

“Oh… woah…” he murmured, poking the ear gently. 

“See? Nothing to worry about! And just as stated in the forms, you’ll be paid a weekly sum for participating in this new therapy. I doubt a cow would be acceptable in an office building, aha.”

James patted his cheeks, a smile forming on his face. 

 “And if you’ll allow me…” 

The doctor set down the mirror, and withdrew a familiar milky white bottle. 

“...I’d like to finish what we started.” 

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

Kriss waited in the kitchen, checking his watch every few minutes, waiting for James to get off of work so he could take him to the hospital. He shouldn’t have even let him go to work… what if he was more sick than he thought? What if it wasn’t just swelling? What if-

*Thud* The front door shut, and Kriss sprang up from his chair, scrambling into the living room. 

“James-” 

The breath caught in his chest as he took in the full scope of his boyfriend. The 200-and-change chubster who had left that morning had blossomed into a wide, easily 600 lb. wall of blubber. He stared up at his polished, nubby horns, at his furry ears, down at his absolutely shirt-shredding tits… blood rushed into his face so fast he stumbled, nearly falling forward. 

“Oh no, are you okay?” James asked, bright blue eyes full of worry. He waddled forward, belly rippling against the front of each knee as he slowly walked like he was wading through waist-high waters.  His chest swayed back and forth, barely contained by a tiny stretched-out tee. Despite being more than three inches taller than him, Kriss suddenly found himself pressed face first into warm boy cleavage, peachy flesh enveloping him. James’s flabby, pillowy arms pressed around his back as he cuddled him in an embrace. 

“What… happened?” he breathed, head spinning as he tried to process the changes in his boyfriend. 

“O-Oh! Right… it’s part of the therapy! Dr. Sweet made me into a big cuddly cow, and I really like it!” he smiled, clasping his chubby hands together. “Though, we may need to get some new clothes… these shorts are kinda tight on my butt.” 

For added emphasis, he slowly turned around, revealing the skin-tight shorts had all but retreated into his huge, bare ass, the rolls of his back flab sagging down to nearly meet the top of them. 

“A-Aha... “ Kriss said, woozy once more. He clutched the wall to keep from falling over. 

“Do… do you not like it?” James asked, timidly pushing his fat thighs together. His ears twitched gently, sending an arrow straight through Kriss’s heart. 

“When I read the waiver, I didn’t expect it to be like, well… all of this. Babe… you’re so adorable my head is going to explode. ”

A happy smile brightened his face once more, and James let out a little laugh. “G-Gosh, don’t scare me like that!” 

Headrush fleeting, Kriss managed to push off the wall and back into the arms of his lover. He pecked at his blubbery neck, giving him gentle kisses up and across his cheek. 

“O-Ooh, these are nice…” Kriss murmured, squeezing his arms around his chest. “You’re like a big stress ball, I love it.” 

“H-Hey, careful, they’re still a little full…”

Kriss moved in for a kiss on the lips, pulling away to give his chest another little squeeze. “Full? Like… with milk?” 

James nodded. “You’ll have to milk me until the pump arrives, otherwise they’ll get too full and I’ll start to ache… that is, if you want to. I can still just go to the clinic-” 

Kriss tugged at his shirt, freeing one of his blubbery boobs. His thumb traced the nipple gently, practically melting James into a puddle. 

“A-Ah, god, have you done this before?...” 

“No…” Kriss said, bringing the breast to his mouth. Sweet, creamy milk flowed onto his tongue, which he swallowed down. “But I can learn.”

[rufousnmacska]

Um hi, hello, I’m just wondering if you cold maybe write a manorian au dance or a ren faire would be fab. Thanks

I lost track of how long this request has been in my drafts, so I’m really sorry it’s taken so long to write. I have a bad habit of starting a fic only to get bogged down about how detailed the plot should be, leaving me not wanting to finish it. I’m not good at just banging out a short story and posting it. But for this one, I tried doing that. I hope you like it anon, if you’re still around!

Full disclosure - I’ve never been to a renaissance faire, though I have friends who sell their pottery at an annual, medieval re-enactment type festival. So, I took what I’ve heard from them and added in a little Medieval Times and Disney World. What I’m saying is, please excuse any egregious mistakes about how these things work :)

Fanfic master list

*****

A Bard’s Tale

The Morath Renaissance Faire was part historical re-enactment, part craft market, part food extravaganza, and all spectacle. It drew visitors from around the continent each summer for the three months it was open. People even came for days at a time, staying at nearby inns so they could enjoy all the faire had to offer.

Owned by Maeve and Erawan Perrington, the faire was known for its summer-long war, pitting bands of warriors against each other in mock campaigns until only one survived, as well as its jousting tournament, where knights did true battle for the honor of being named the Queen’s Knight Commander. The enormous market square sold everything from hand woven clothing, jewelry and adornments, to metalwork, and pottery. The food court had stalls serving street foods of all varieties, and a hall that seated hundreds, where visitors could treat themselves to an authentic seven course medieval dinner. Jesters roamed the streets entertaining children, actors staged scenes of roving bandits stealing from nobility, artists demonstrated their craft, and bards sang songs for spare coins.

While most employees were from the region, some, including most of the artists, came from other towns and countries. To house them, the faire had a sprawling campground filled with brightly colored tents. At night, after the faire grounds were closed, the camp came alive with employees sharing modest dinners and abundant wine, while music played and many danced.

Manon Blackbeak had been selling here for four years. Her shop, The Clay Witch, was situated near the entrance to the market, ensuring she had a good crowd and a view of the jousting arena. With her cousins’ help, Manon did a brisk business. She made pottery the rest of the year, selling most of it here, and her cousins were responsible for the rest: healing teas, fragrant candles, love potions, amulets, and other trinkets of a witchy nature. She wasn’t a people person, so she had a sales assistant named Elide who handled that side of the business. Together with her cousins, they took part in the war, calling their band the Blackbeak Coven. In years past, they’d made it into the final week or two of the campaign, but they’d never won.

Despite her competitiveness, Manon had always been fine with that outcome. While Maeve oversaw the jousting as Queen, Erawan was the King who lead the war. He had a habit of looking at her a little too long, his gaze roaming over her body in a way that made her want to shower it off with scalding hot water. She made sure never to be alone with him, usually finding someplace else she needed to be in order to avoid him.

The whole situation pissed her off. Her pottery studio was in a town a few hours away and this faire had been a great opportunity to build her business. They made good money here, enjoyed themselves in the battles, and had made lifelong friends in the campground. But, she was seriously considering not coming back next year. All because some creepy asshole wouldn’t leave her alone.

As she watched Elide wait on some customers, she grew angrier. Other people depended on her. She knew they’d understand and support her, but not coming back felt as though she’d be letting them down.

Outside, she heard people speaking in loud, reverent tones and knew what time it was, not needing to look at her watch. She contemplated hiding in the back just to see what would happen. But when she caught the first sounds of his voice, she found herself grinning.

At ten o’clock in the morning, every day, Dorian Havilliard made his way to her shop to serenade her, always with a group of adoring fans trailing behind.

It hadn’t taken long for Manon to recognize some of the faces of the people who came back again and again just to watch Dorian perform. He played his part well, flirting and making up spontaneous songs to please his audience. If ever their adoration crossed the line into inappropriateness, he’d break out the charm and shy away, making his discomfort clear. All while still obtaining a sizable tip.

Manon crossed her arms and leaned against the entrance to her booth, watching him approach. He had a preternatural gift for coming up with lyrics and melodies on the spot. She’d never admit it to him, but she’d come to enjoy his morning visits.

As for his nightly visits to her tent, it was impossible for her to hide her appreciation then, much to her annoyance.

This was his first and only summer working at the faire. He’d been dragged along by a friend who was dating a knight. Rowan Whitethorn was Maeve’s nephew and had been crowned her Knight Commander in the jousting arena for three years running. The rumor mill went crazy at the start of this season when he arrived with a girlfriend who was from Terrasen. Aelin brought an entourage with her, a bunch of friends from college who were looking for one last fun summer to tide them over before heading off into the real world in the fall. Chaol worked as a royal guard and his girlfriend, a pre-med major, worked in the first aid clinic that served visitors and employees alike. Aelin’s cousin Aedion had fallen quickly into a warrior group and rose to become their general, while his girlfriend Lysandra worked as a fortune teller. Manon and her cousins, who had known Rowan for years, had met them on the first day and they’d become fast friends.

And then there was Dorian. Who, within the first week of opening, had become the most popular bard at the faire. The center of attention wherever he roamed.

Manon smirked as he stopped a few feet from her. Today, as usual, he wore a well fitting tunic with Intricate embroidery that took the shape of wyverns. Curls that had not been there at the start of the season hung around his ears.

With a deep bow and flourish of his hand, he said, “Good morning Lady. I pray you had a pleasant evening.”

She managed to keep her expression unchanged, even though the memories of last night threatened to turn her face a brilliant red. Gripping the sword that hung at her hip, she said, “Lady? I see no lady here.”

“Ah, but you are a lady. Lady artisan,” he said gesturing to her pottery. “Lady warrior,” a glance to her sword. “And a lady of pure moonlight,” he said, nodding at the long white braid that fell across her shoulder.

Her hair was a constant source of interest for him. She didn’t think it crossed into the realm of being a fetish, but he very much enjoyed pulling it whenever he had the chance. She did too. And she enjoyed seeing his gem like eyes flash when she lifted the braid and wiggled the end at him.

Elide and a couple of customers audibly sighed at his words. Manon whirled and gave her a deadly look, but the young woman just ignored her, watching Dorian begin to play as she placed a hand on her heart. She’d been pushing Manon all summer to go out with Dorian. Wanting to preserve Elide’s innocence, Manon never revealed what happened in her tent most nights. And finally, with that thought, the blood rushed to her cheeks.

He sang a quick tune that compared her beauty to that of the moon, bowed again, and with a wink, he was off. His followers who returned day after day just to see him never seemed to think anything of his daily routine of singing to her. Either they were simply too enchanted by his voice and handsome looks, or they just didn’t care, thinking it was all part of the act, confident he would acknowledge them when he was out of character.

As he made his way towards the market square, Manon caught sight of someone who did notice, and clearly cared.

Maeve watched from across the wide street. Her black eyes held none of the smile that spread across her face, and Manon felt a chill crawl up her spine. She did not like Dorian’s daily ritual of showering Manon with attention. After a moment filled with tension, Maeve turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

Just as her husband gave Manon unwanted attention, Maeve had been doing the same thing to Dorian. He’d mentioned it once or twice, trying to brush it off. But Manon had heard the discomfort in his voice, could see the way he held himself in Maeve’s presence, trying to escape her notice and almost turning to stone when she inevitably did. The other night at one of the bonfires in the camp, someone had teased him about it. Dorian laughed and said after this weekend, he’d never see her again. The comment had hit Manon hard, as she’d realized the same could be said of her. In a matter of days, this season would end and they’d return to their homes on opposite sides of the country. With no reason to ever see each other again.

*****

Managing to escape his fans, Dorian ducked into an alley that led to the back offices. He’d seen Maeve following him this morning, and for the first time all summer, he’d considered not going to Manon’s shop. This was a summer job for him, a one time thing before he started working for his father. But she was an artist whose livelihood depended on events like this. He didn’t want to risk getting her in trouble because the owner had some kind of sick crush on him. The season was winding down and this weekend would be the last. He only needed to avoid Maeve’s interest for a few more days.

“Ouch! Watch it!”

“You watch it! Big oaf. No one told you to do tricks on your horse while you were jousting.”

Stopping at the door to the first aid clinic, Dorian found Yrene examining Lorcan, one of the knights who competed in the arena. Like the other jousters, the guy was huge, and Dorian couldn’t help but admire Yrene for not taking any shit from him. Lorcan spotted him watching from the entrance and rolled his eyes.

With his elaborate costumes, zealous following, and natural charm, Dorian was not the most popular of people among the warriors at the faire. He got along well with Rowan and Fenrys, but some of the others looked down at him for his portrayal of the flirty bard. He suspected it had more to do with the tips he made, money that he didn’t need due to his family’s wealth. Chaol and Yrene were the only ones who knew he’d be donating all of it to charity at the end of the season.

Yrene lifted Lorcan’s arm, moving his shoulder around in the socket despite his grimace and stifled groans of pain. “You’ve definitely torn something,” she said, pushing into his joint with her small fingers. “You’ll need to get an X-ray.”

“You can’t just put it in a sling? So I can joust on Sunday?” he asked, relieved when she let go of him, only to wince again when his arm landed in his lap.

With a scathing look that made Lorcan recoil slightly, she said, “If you want to damage it further, sure. I could do that. And then you’ll definitely need surgery. As it is, you might get away with some physical therapy. Which will not be fun. But if you continue jousting, you’re looking at hospital time.”

“Shit,” he said, dropping his head into his good hand. “It’s the finals this weekend. Maeve is going to kill me. After she fires me.”

Not wanting to hang around and interrupt her work, Dorian quickly asked, “Any idea where Chaol is right now?”

Yrene shrugged as she pulled a sling out of a supply cabinet. “Maybe near the battlefield? He mentioned they needed extra help setting some things up for this weekend.”

“Thanks,” he said. Then to Lorcan, “Good luck, man.”

“Yeah,” Lorcan replied, sounding utterly defeated and giving Dorian an odd look. “Thanks.” It was the tone, the actual gratitude in the word, that made Dorian realize the look was one of kindness. At least, Lorcan’s version.

Sneaking along the paths he used to stay away from the crowds, Dorian emerged near the stands overlooking the battlefield. This Saturday the two armies that had survived the summer would face each other for one final battle.

Maeve had been smart to set things up this way, making the war and jousting into a months long competition, ensuring a build up of fans and repeat visitors. She had a good mind for business, he just wished she’d stop leering at him.

Even if he wasn’t focused entirely on Manon, there was no way he’d involve himself with Maeve. There was a darkness surrounding her that reminded him of a spider, weaving an intricate web to control everyone around her, and disposing of those who resisted her manipulations.

Though he had never spoken to the man, Dorian had heard her husband was just as creepy. One night at the camp, his name had been mentioned, causing Manon to visibly shudder. She clearly didn’t like the guy, and that was enough for Dorian to dislike him too.

As he sat and watched Chaol and some warriors setting up the dais that would hold the royal thrones for the final battle, Dorian wondered if he was making the right decision for this fall. His father had demanded he come work for the family company. That Dorian had refused to get a business degree meant little to the man. He would see his son replace him as CEO whether Dorian liked it or not.

As it always did when he thought about his future, his mind eventually traveled back to Manon. This summer had been amazing, due in large part to her. She’d captured his heart from the first day. It took a full week of songs before she showed up at his tent one night. After that, he’d waited. Waited for that look she’d give him at the end of the night, when the bonfire was burning down and the camp was growing quiet. The look that said the song he’d written for her that morning had left her wanting him. The look that invited him back to her tent where they’d stay up too late, making love and playing question and answer games, the easiest way to get her to talk about herself.

Gods, how was he supposed to say goodbye to her in just a few days?

They had not spoken of it, neither one wanting to bring up what they both knew was coming. It wasn’t like they’d never be able to see each other again. But there was a weird sense of finality to the end of the faire season. The end of this crazy, fun summer. The end of their late night dalliances. The end of their late night talks, which he would honestly miss the most.

His bench sagged as Chaol sat down heavily beside him, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Ready for lunch?” Dorian asked, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt.

Chaol sighed, tired from helping to build the dais with a half day’s work still to come. “Yeah. Was Yrene busy?”

They stood and began to walk towards the food stalls. “Lorcan got injured. She might be done, but I doubt it.”

“Shit,” Chaol said, stopping in the middle of the street. “Will he be able to joust on Sunday?”

“Doesn’t look like it. At least, Yrene said no. Why? What’s the big deal?”

"He’s supposed to go up against Rowan in the final. Lorcan is the only real competition Rowan has. I overheard Erawan talking about the possibility of this final weeks ago. They’ve been hyping it up to the fans.”

Dorian shrugged. He didn’t pay attention to the jousts or the war standings. Especially once the Blackbeak Coven was defeated last week. Manon had been disappointed, but also oddly relieved.

“You don’t get it,” Chaol continued. “Maeve and Erawan are going to be pissed.”

That made Dorian smile. “Good. Maybe she’ll leave me alone then.”

*****

Sunday came with beautiful weather and a crowd that was electric with anticipation. Yesterday’s final battle, won in an impressive fashion by Aedion’s troops, had drawn record numbers of spectators. Maeve and Erawan had sat on their thrones, overseeing everything with bored faces and an air thick with arrogance. Most of the employees knew how little they were acting, but the viewers ate it up.

Today was the final of the jousting tournament. Being easier to follow from the stands, it was more popular than the war re-enactment. This year’s finalists promised to put on a good show. Until Lorcan injured his shoulder in his semifinal against Fenrys. He’d still managed to win, knocking Fenrys off his horse out of sheer spite, sending him to the final against Rowan.

When it was announced he couldn’t compete, Maeve had gone ballistic. Apparently, she’d destroyed her office, leaving a mess of papers, a cracked laptop screen, and a broken chair. Erawan had kept his cool, though a few twitches of his black eyes spoke volumes about his inner state of mind. Everyone assumed Fenrys would be given Lorcan’s place. But the notice board outside the arena had remained blank after Rowan’s name - The White Hawk vs.___

Last night, the talk around camp was all about who she would name to joust against Rowan, with some joking that she’d make Erawan do it. Rowan had seemed to welcome the chance to knock the bastard onto his back. Maeve was his aunt, but there’d never been any friendship between them. He worked here because he loved it. And now that he loved Aelin, it grew more and more likely that this might end up being his last year.

As people milled about in her shop, Manon felt a strange anxiety wash over her. Muscles tense, goose flesh rising up her arms, she looked out into the street expecting to see Erawan there. But it was just regular visitors making their way through the market, noisy and excited.

Slowly, she realized what felt off. The voices of the crowd had never been louder than Dorian’s voice. She looked at her watch and felt her stomach flip. 10:24.

He was never late. Never.

Just then, she heard commotion from the jousting arena. Over the heads of the crowd, she could just make out Asterin’s blond hair as her cousin waved for her to come over.

Pushing through the people, she found not only Asterin but Chaol and Aelin too, all three standing in front of the notice board, staring up at it in shock.

Just as she never had to check her watch for Dorian’s arrival, Manon didn’t have to read the board to know who Rowan’s opponent was. Instead of flipping, her stomach turned to stone and sank.

The White Hawk vs. The Black Bard

“That fucking bitch,” Aelin whispered.

Manon grit her teeth, her hands shook and she was too angry to even speak.

“Where is he?” Asterin asked.

Chaol shrugged, also unable to speak, too horrified with concern for his best friend.

Fenrys ran up suddenly, almost knocking them all over. “It was Erawan,” he said, breathless. “Some sick game between him and Maeve.”

Manon forced herself to swallow, to breath, to not go scratch that bastard’s hellish eyes from their sockets. “Why didn’t Dorian just tell him no?”

“I don’t know,” Fenrys said. “They must have forced him somehow.”

Asterin turned to Manon and they shared a look. The only way to make Dorian agree to this was if Manon had been threatened in some way.

“Rowan won’t hurt him,” Aelin said confidently.

Finally, Chaol spoke. “Maybe not on purpose! Dorian’s never ridden a horse. Rowan can deliberately miss him and he could still fall off and get trampled.”

“Shit.” Asterin and Fenrys said at the same time.

The sound of trumpets wailed and people began rushing to get into the stadium. As the others debated what to do, Manon took off, ducking beneath the stands to get to the fence that surrounded the jousting yard. It felt like time slowed down, and when she finally reached an opening with a view to the field, the announcer was already calling out the competitors names.

There, at the far end, sitting precariously on the back of a black stallion, was Dorian. Clad in black armor, the counterpoint to Rowan’s bright silver, he struggled to hold the lance steady. Dorian was muscled and strong, but this was a skill he had no experience with. Holding a lance properly took practice.

Rowan, atop his white horse, was within shouting distance. Manon called to him, but he didn’t hear her over the crowd’s cheers and the helmet he wore. She kept calling for him, only stopping when she glanced at the royal box. There, Maeve sat, stone faced and angry, glaring straight ahead. Next to her, wearing the tacky fake crown he sported everywhere on the grounds, was Erawan.

Manon wasn’t surprised to feel his eyes on her, his slimy stare making her feel as if she might vomit.

Just as she tried to get Rowan’s attention one last time, the trumpets blared and the horse reared and took off, thundering down the field towards Dorian.

*****

Dorian kicked at his horse, hoping that would get it to move. If it had been up to him, he would have simply sat here, letting Rowan charge and knock him off with his first pass. Hell, if it had been up to him, he’d be in the fucking stands.

But no. Erawan had stopped him early that morning, offering him the chance to joust. When Dorian had laughed in his face, Erawan had made it clear that it really wasn’t an offer.

He’d seen the way his wife looked at Dorian, knew that there was something going on between them, knew that Dorian’s protestations were lies. Erawan had insisted that If Dorian refused, the bard’s paramour would be punished.

Dorian had stopped laughing then. They both knew he had never been with Maeve. And somehow, Erawan had found out about him and Manon.

“I own this town,” Erawan had said. “There is nothing you can do. If you run, I will find her.” He’d clapped Dorian on the back as if they were friends. “What do you say young bard?”

Dorian had nodded numbly, agreeing to put on a show, make it look real, and not throw the match.

So now, here he was. However many tons - did horses weigh tons? - of animal rushing towards him, Rowan’s white tipped lance leading the way.

Fuck it, he thought, giving the horse’s side another kick. The beast reared slightly then hit the ground running.

Dorian just barely managed to hang on to the reins as he wobbled in the saddle. His lance almost slid from his grip, almost landed tip down in the earth, threatening to propel him into the air like an acrobat. At the last second before catastrophe, he got it under control, just as Rowan’s lance grazed his side, going wide of a strike. The crowd cheered, and though his helmet muffled the sound, he knew it was deafening for the people in the arena.

Their horses continued running until they were on opposite ends. Some lackey of Erawan’s came running out, pretending to offer him advice or assistance. Dorian ignored him, trying to focus on holding the lance up to the proper height. By the time he got it wedged under his arm, the horn sounded and his horse took off, unprompted.

He was able to hold the lance up the whole way, but he almost fell off the horse. For the second time, Rowan’s attempt missed. Dorian knew it was on purpose, and he was grateful. But the way the crowd had begun laughing was honestly starting to piss him off. He knew he couldn’t win. He just wanted to survive. But his pride was beginning to surge enough to overtake his fear.

The third run had the same result as the first two. Rowan missed, Dorian clung to the saddle and the lance and didn’t die. The horse guy came out again, seeming to adjust some of the straps. Dorian watched to make sure he didn’t actually loosen anything, and the guy gave him a nod.

Thinking someone was calling his name, Dorian twisted around to find Manon leaning over the fence, wild-eyed and desperate to get his attention. He lifted his visor and winked at her. The gesture appeared to make her angry and she shouted again but the words were lost to the crowd.

Hoisting the lance up and securing it under his arm, the reins tight in his hand, Dorian was ready for the horn this time. The horse pounded down the yard and time seemed to slow to a trickle. He felt every hoof beat, heard every puff of air from the horse’s mouth, saw the silver armor getting closer and closer. At the last second, before squeezing his eyes shut, he angled the lance towards that flash of silver.

The force of the impact threw him back in the saddle. His feet remained in the stirrups though, leaving him arched awkwardly on top of the horse. Pain radiated up his arm like a wave until the entire thing went numb and he had no idea if he was still holding the lance. With a grunt, he forced himself upright into a sitting position. The horse came to a stop and pawed at the ground, as if in celebration.

The applause and cheers hit him almost as hard as the blow he’d administered to Rowan. Looking down to where he still somehow held the lance, then turning in the saddle to see Rowan pushing himself up from the dirty ground, Dorian slowly realized that he had won.

*****

Manon was running the second she saw someone made contact. The dust was thick and she couldn’t see what had happened. At the sight of a riderless white horse trotting towards her, she sped up, almost tripping over Rowan, who laid sprawled on the ground. His helmet had come off and he had a big grin on his face.

When she reached Dorian, he was sliding off the horse, the weight of his armor pulling him down faster than he could handle. She caught him just before he could land on his ass. Propping him against the stallion, she tore the helmet from his head and yelled, “What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

Dorian, a little dazed, a little breathless, said nothing. He pulled her close and kissed her.

The crowd erupted, roaring their approval and chanting his name. “Black Bard! Black Bard! Black Bard!”

Yrene came over with a small medical bag, but Dorian waved her off, then went back to kissing Manon. When he let go, she stumbled backwards, still clutching his armor. His horse was strutting around them, loving the attention, while flowers rained down around them from the stands.

It was tradition for the victorious knight to gather the flowers and present them to Maeve; the Knight Commander honoring his queen. But Dorian had not been aware of the tradition. And she knew he wouldn’t have done it anyway.

Manon watched as he bent down, slowly so as not to fall over, and picked up a handful of poppies and daisies and whatever other blooms had been tossed onto the field. Dropping heavily to a knee, he smiled brightly and offered her the prize of wildflowers.

She shook her head, unable to keep the grin from her own face. Taking the flowers, she bent to kiss him, but he pulled her down onto her knees.

“I don’t think I can stand up,” he confessed against her lips.

Manon laughed and went right on kissing him. The cheers turned to a loud buzz in their ears that they ignored along with everything else.

Eventually, Rowan appeared, offering his hand to Dorian, both in acknowledgement of a well fought match, and to help him up. Manon moved to leave but Dorian refused to let go of her hand. She was glad for it, and gripped it tightly when she remembered Maeve and Erawan in their viewing box.

The two “royals” looked anything but. Maeve clapped in a meager attempt to save face at Dorian’s insult with the flowers. And Erawan glared at them both, his hate for them rising off his skin like heat in a desert.

Dorian squeezed her hand and Manon remembered why they were out here, why Dorian had risked his life.

“I know why you did this,” she said. “I wish you would have found me first.”

“What would you have done?”

She smirked. “I would have sliced him up with my sword.”

"My lady warrior,” he said, his face dropping with exhaustion as the adrenaline wore off.

“My bard in shining armor.” She caressed his cheek and he turned to kiss her palm. “Do you really have to go back to Rifthold?”

It was the first either one had spoken of what would happen tomorrow. She knew this wasn’t the time or the place, but something inside her needed it to be. She needed to know that she’d see him again. She needed-

“I’m going wherever you are,” he said simply, as if there had never been any question.

Manon smiled softly in answer, wrapping her arm around his waist to support him off the field.

*****

The next summer, without its star in the jousting arena, the Morath Renassaince Faire saw a marked drop in attendance.

Rowan had joined his new wife in Terrasen, telling his aunt to shove it. He’d taken several of the other jousters with him, leaving them one main attraction. Cairn didn’t last long however, as no horses would allow him in their saddle.

Other parts of the faire suffered too. Without the Clay Witch selling her wares, and no all-female warrior band fighting in the war, interest waned. Artists began to close their shops. Re-enactors and food vendors found other venues.

It was as if Rowan’s departure doomed the faire. And within another year, it did just that. Maeve and Erawan closed the faire and moved away, leaving the structures empty.

The town lost business, but like others who had dealt with the Perringtons in one way or another, they were glad to see the couple gone.

But the locals still spoke of that final good year. The year when a hapless, yet handsome, bard bested the reigning Knight Commander in the jousting tournament. How he knocked the White Hawk from his horse, winning in one pass. And how he spurned the evil queen and won the heart of a witch instead.

*****

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[kenzieam]

Beauty and the Blackheart - Chapter Four

@jewels2876​​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst

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We finally learn a little bit of Bucky’s tragic background.....

FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL, LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE POSTING OR NOT

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Morning came too soon, and Lev found herself suffering from a dual hangover; both from the tequila and from Bucky’s actions.

What had he meant when he’d said he wished to God he’d done different?

Her head ached and her body throbbed yet the worst, or maybe best, part was she could still feel Bucky’s fingers, gently caressing her nape, the strength in his arms when she’d clung to him, mistaking him for Clint.

Goddammit, it had felt good, he had felt good, his touch settling something deep inside her that had been alone and restless for far too long.

Lev thrust her hands through her hair, then scrubbed her face with her hands. A quiet knock at the door made her raise her head.

“Yeah?”

Clint’s apologetic face appeared. “How are you feeling?”

“I need to leave, Clint. It’s no good if I stay.”

His lips turned down, eyes dropping to the floor, but Clint nodded. “Yeah, Bucky…. Bucky’s had some bad shit happen in the past, it’s… it’s probably best if you...” He trailed off, unwilling or unable to continue then seemed to perk up a tiny bit. “Will you wait until tomorrow to leave? I’d really like to spend one last night with you.”

Lev’s heart warmed at the thought, just Clint and her, brother and sister, spending some quiet time together; what she should have done from the start, rather than getting tangled in the tattoo shop and Bucky. “Of course. Want to order some pizza? Watch old ‘80s campy horror like we used to?”

Clint positively beamed. “Yeah, I’d love that.” He turned to leave then hesitated, looking back at Lev before turning to leave again, but still he didn’t move, shoulders slumping.

“Come here.” Lev called quietly, waiting until Clint sat silently on the edge of the bed, reaching over to take his hand. “I’m sorry. Whatever is messed up between Bucky and I, that’s on me. Everything was good until I got here. I don’t want to come between you guys, or make you choose between us. I was just visiting anyway, so now I’m leaving a little early, that’s all; it’s okay.”

Sorrow flashed briefly in Clint’s gaze but they both knew she was right. “It sucks.”

“Yeah, but you’ll just have to come and visit me then.”

“I will.” He met her eyes and nodded. “We always go too long between seeing each other, that’s going to change. I miss you, kid.”

Lev felt a pang in her chest and her voice caught as she whispered. “I miss you too, big brother.”

Clint swallowed, then cleared his throat aggressively. Big sappy displays were not his thing, and in truth, they weren’t Lev’s either. He stood, almost abruptly and swiped at his cheek. “See you tonight,” a thought seemed to hit him then and he hesitated before adding, “would you mind if Steve came over too? He’ll be upset to hear you’re leaving; he’ll want to say goodbye.”

“Of course, yeah. That’d be great.” Lev sighed, relieved that Clint had thought of it. It would save her having to go to the shop, maybe running into Bucky, to say goodbye to Steve herself.

Clint nodded, threw her a sad grin, then left.

Lev considered mooning around in bed for a while, wallowing in the disappointment of her current situation, then threw the covers back with a groan, forced her feet to touch the floor.

You win some, you lose some. She wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, she knew that, and she and Bucky just hadn’t clicked, there was no shame it that, only if she stubbornly refused to acknowledge it, continued to force herself into his space would it become wrong. Leaving was the best option for everyone.

Then why did it hurt?

If leaving was the right thing to do, then why had she found herself driving by the local hospital more than once, watching the comings and goings of staff and patients, imagined herself working there, part of the rush and crush?

No. It did no good to drown in the ‘what if’s and if only’s’. Her life was a three-and-a-half-hour plane trip away, not here.

She needed a shower and, while the hot water pounded her bare skin, she made herself not think about everything.

Later, Lev found herself in the backyard. There was a small pool that she’d shamefully underutilized, and tall fragrant trees blocking any nosy neighbours from spying. Sprawled on her stomach on the lounge chair, Lev surfed idly on her laptop, having already booked her flight home for tomorrow and now letting herself drift, catching up on friend’s Facebook pages, something she rarely had made time for in the past. A pang hit her as she read, seeing how everyone seemed to have a life, a family, children on the way. All Lev had, all she’d concerned herself with for years, had been her education, her upcoming career.

Had she wasted her life? In her one-track mind approach to everything, had she missed out on all the good stuff?

No, she decided firmly. She was still young, now that her education was out of the way, she could start really living, reaping the rewards that years of sacrifice and discipline had brought.

The sun was warm on her bare shoulders and Lev giggled at herself. She was even starting to tan, something she hadn’t done since junior high, when she’d flirted briefly with the track team to round out her academic record before quitting to take an extra chemistry class.

Pushing the laptop away, Lev rested her cheek on her crossed arms and closed her eyes. She imagined laying on one of the tattoo tables at the shop, getting her first real ink. Would Bucky’s fingers be as soft working on her tattoo as they’d been against her nape last night? Would his breath tickle her skin, the heat of his big body warm her? Would the same tingles she felt every time they’d accidentally brushed up against each other race through her as he drew on her virgin skin? She realized now what had always made her edgy around him, and she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t experienced it herself, but there was a low-level charge between them, a humming energy that colored and heated the air around them, swirling and tangling and, for better or worse, binding them.

As she lay there, she imagined Bucky’s touch moving lower, trailing teasingly along her suddenly bare back to reach the curve of her ass and Lev shuddered, but not in a bad way.

Even when she’d avoided him at the shop, she’d still hungered for glances of him, quick snatches of his hands, large and veined and tattooed, gentle as he worked yet looking so strong and dangerous. He’d proven that last night, breaking that guy’s nose at the bar and literally wrenching her from her seat before brushing back her hair so carefully, enfolding her in his embrace so securely.

What would it feel like to have him inside her, to feel him grip her hips and drive himself home between her thighs? Lev was not a virgin but only barely, her tentative explorations with a classmate, almost clinical in their detachedness, had been more like studying than anything else and she’d not gotten off, not with any satisfaction anyway.

But it would be different with Bucky, Lev mused. He was experienced, he knew how to touch a woman, how to bring her pleasure. She’d covertly glanced at the sizeable bulge in his jeans more than once, felt her womb clench at the thought of feeling that push inside her. If he kissed her with half as much raw desire and want as she’d seen him suck face with some of those girls then she might ever come from that alone, convulsing in his arms when he hadn’t even really touched her yet.

And God, the thought of those long, dextrous fingers brushing at her folds made her shiver, toying with her clit, spreading her juices-

“Hey,” A deep voice called tentatively, and Lev startled out her daydream, nearly knocking the laptop off the chair above her. She shook her head, peering at the speaker and felt her face go beet-red.

Of course, of course it would have to be Bucky standing a few dozen feet away, looking like tattooed sin himself, probably able to smell her arousal in the air.

Lev scrambled to cover herself, cursing her impulsive decision to lose her pants and lounge in only her tank-top and panties, the blanket she’d brought out too far away to reach.

Goddammit, why had she decided to slut-it-up now?

Sensing her discomfort, Bucky strode forwards and grabbed the blanket, holding it out to her with averted eyes. Gratefully Lev took it, sitting cross-legged and wrapping the blanket around her.

Bucky studied her for a beat, just long enough to make Lev drop her gaze, then looked around. Walking towards the other lounge chair, he pulled it closer and sat with a sigh, scrubbing his hands on his jeans. Lev waited, not at all sure why the hell Bucky was here, and what he was going to say to her.

“I overheard your brother telling Steve… you’re leaving?” He bent over, clasped his hands together, forearms resting on his thighs and studied his fingers, not meeting her gaze.

“It’s for the best.” Lev mumbled. “You don’t like me, and I won’t come between my brother and his friends.”

“I never said I don’t like you.”

Lev snorted with derision, barely believing her ears. Really? He’d never said he didn’t like her? He didn’t need to, he’d shown that he hadn’t, every fucking day.

Bucky glanced up at her snort then dropped his head again, ears reddening as he correctly read her thoughts.

Lev waited, not trusting herself to speak again without flying off the handle and destroying whatever fragile tie brought Bucky here today looking so humbled and studied his form instead. She’d gazed at him time untold already, covertly but, with the reality of her leaving and probably never seeing him again, her eyes greedily devoured him now, committing him to memory for the inevitable dark times of regret ahead. Tattoos crawled his neck to his impossibly chiselled jawline visible even beneath his beard, the colors vibrant and lines strong, Clint’s best work. His left arm, apparently grievously broken some years ago and repaired with pins and screws, was covered in a full cyborg sleeve, right down to his hand. Steve was responsible for it and it blended seamlessly with his musculature, flowing with a startling realism when he moved. The other arm was covered in a full sleeve as well, but as a myriad of images tied together, entailing untold hours of work and resulting in an image that took hours and multiple viewings to fully capture and appreciate all the details, all the way down to calloused and scarred fingers, his touch startingly tender when he wanted, bone-crushing when he didn’t.

He looked like the last person someone like Lev would be attracted to yet, as she gazed at him, a yearning that took her breath away clawed around her heart; a small voice deep inside whispering a plaintive but implacable ‘mine’.

The full effect, of his massive frame, beard, long hair, heavily tattooed body, leather and denim attire and general ‘don’t fuck with me’ aura made him an intimidating presence but, right now, he was making himself vulnerable, showing a side to Lev that his outward appearance made it look like he didn’t have.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “Whatever chance I had…. I’ve fucking lost you now, haven’t I?” His voice cracked and Lev stared in shock at his bent head.

What? Where the hell was this coming from? When had he ever wanted a chance with her?

“I… I don’t understand, Bucky. I didn’t think you ever did.”

“I did.” His voice was so low Lev almost missed it. “God, I did, I do.”

A sudden rush hit Lev, a swell of conflicting emotions; confusion, curiosity, anger and, oddly enough, sympathy for the man in front of her. It would have been so much easier to stay away, wait the few short hours for Lev to leave forever and never think of her again and yet… he’d come to her, looking and sounding broken.

“Her name was Amelia.” Bucky said unexpectedly. “Everyone called her Ami. She was serious, driven, disciplined… she was like you.” He raised his head briefly before dropping it again. “We were night and day, but I loved her. Even back in high school… fuck, I loved her. She had all these plans, you know? This big fancy career, what she was going to do, when and where and I was going to be there with her. I mean, I was apprenticing with Steve, but you can do that anywhere, I could’ve gotten a job in a shop anywhere…. I just wanted to be with Ami, you know? I was happy with just that.”

His exhale was unsteady, and Lev tensed, a sick feeling building in her stomach as she connected the dots. There was no woman named Ami hanging around the shop, no ring on Bucky’s finger, just a steady stream of faceless women.

“I sold my Harley to buy her engagement ring.” He sighed heavily and Lev was shocked to feel the beginnings of tears prick her eyes. “I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me and…. She laughed. Laughed in my face.”

Lev felt a rush of rage at this woman, how cruel, how goddamn heartless, to laugh when someone is making themselves so vulnerable like that? Taking a chance and asking you to share your life with them?

“’Why?’ She asked,” Bucky spat, fists going white at the knuckles as he clenched them. “’Why would I marry someone like you?’” He swallowed hard. “She told me I was crazy, to think we’d ever had a future. She said I was a disappointment, I had no goals, no dreams or ambitions beyond being a loser, that only crooks and druggies became tattoo ‘artists’ and that I needed to get serious and grow up.”

A tear coursed down Lev’s cheek. Even at her most angry, her most hurt by Bucky’s treatment of her, she never would have gone so low as this Ami woman, especially with someone she’d supposedly loved, enough to give him the impression of a potential future between them.

“She left. I haven’t seen her since.” He took a deep breath, let it out with a heartbreaking resignation. “I stayed apprenticing because it was all I had. Steve, Nat, tattoos and eventually, your brother. And I’m not a loser, I have a business with my two best friends, a successful one and I’m content with that… but I haven’t let a woman close since her. I fuck and forget because it doesn’t hurt. I’m upfront with them because Ami wasn’t with me, there’s no illusions. And then you walked into my shop.” He looked up finally and the riot of emotions darkening his eyes made the thin remains of her restraint fail and the tears fell unheeded down her face.

“I thought I’d loved Ami but,” he shook his head. “It was nothing compared to what hit me when I saw you that first time, and… it scared the fuck out of me because it was happening again. I was falling for a woman with the same drive and desire to succeed as her. And I hated that, this… weakness of mine, to get caught in that again, like the first time never happened… and it pissed me off so bad and terrified me at the same time. I did all I could to keep you away, but I couldn’t help it sometimes…. sometimes I just had to be close to you, sometimes I couldn’t hide it anymore. I fought so hard to push you away because Ami broke me but… if I let myself love you and you did the same, it would kill me this time.”

Lev stared, horror and sorrow taking her breath away.

Wow.

Of all the things she expected to hear from Bucky, whatever explanations or excuses he might have offered to maybe justify his actions, she’d hadn’t imagined anything like this because, why would you? Who would ever think that another human being could be that cruel, especially to someone they’d given at least the impression of loving? If Ami hadn’t wanted to marry Bucky, fine; if she’d thought him unambitious, whatever, but she hadn’t needed to crush him like that.

What pain did he hide behind those supernatural eyes?

She was getting a good look at that pain now, coupled with a deep regret.

“I…” He began but trailed off. Fists clenching again he continued. “I just needed you to know that; it was never really about you, you’re-” his voice cracked again. “You’re going to make some lucky fuck really happy one day and this is all on me. What’s happened between us is my fuck-up, not yours. Never. yours.”

Without conscious intent Lev stood and moved to sit at Bucky’s side. She had no idea what she was doing, but his pain cleaved her in two. Bucky lifted his head, turning eyes dark with regret her way. Only a foot away, Lev could see the moisture gathering there, the tightness at the corners of his eyes as he fought back emotion; he exhaled, a long, low sound that wavered as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

Hunger joined the pain and he looked back up into her eyes, the power in his gaze gripping her in place, drawing her closer and their lids fluttered closed just as their lips touched, a tentative brushing before his hand reached up and cupped her jaw, curled around to cradle her head and hold her close as the kiss deepened, grew hard and passionate as floodgates long held close burst open. It was all teeth and tongues and desire and Lev couldn’t stop a moan against Bucky’s mouth, which he answered with a primal sound, low in his chest. Grabbing her waist Bucky pulled Lev to straddle his lap and she moved eagerly, tightening her thighs around his hips, inhaling sharply when he squeezed her leg, growling in barely leashed need.

She could feel him, hot and hard, pressing against her core, one large hand guiding her hip, grinding her against him then the other was rucking up under her shirt, cupping her breasts, thumb rasping over her nipples.

“Fuck, baby-” Bucky groaned against her mouth and he was all she could see, hear, smell, feel and taste, completely capturing and overwhelming her senses and Lev wanted nothing more in that moment than for Bucky to tear her clothes away and drive inside her, make her scream and writhe beneath him, feel him release inside her with a groan.

This is happening too fast.

“Wait-” Lev gasped, heart hammering.

Bucky pulled away only far enough to rest his forehead to hers and panted, chest heaving, eyes closed, and face twisted with pain.

“I-” He began, a heartbreaking crack in his voice then he stopped again, taking a deep breath. “You’re right.” His hand tightened on her hip for an instant before he gently pushed her off his lap, standing before Lev could find her voice to argue, to tell him what her brain was scrambling to form and communicate.

No, don’t go. Not like this, I just meant slow down.

“Bucky-”. Damn her panicking nerves, her flustered heart. Just say it. Spit it out before he got the idea that you didn’t want to continue, that you don’t hunger and ache for him the way he does for you.

If Bucky saw her struggle, if he understood it, he chose to ignore it.

“No, Lev.” He took a step back, fists clenching. “It’s better this way.” He hesitated, then turned to leave.

Lev watched him go, her breath clawing in her throat, torn between wanting to call out to him, and remaining silent. Tears pricked her eyes as she watched his wide, powerful frame, now slumped with regret, disappear through the gate and, when she heard the faint rumble of his bike from down the street, she let them fall.

Why hadn’t she called out to him?

Because.

This was the least painful way to part. He’d explained why he’d behaved the way he had, and while it didn’t change their past, at least it would help Lev lay it to rest. The kiss changed nothing, the fact that it was the most visceral experience of Lev’s life only showed how closeted and sheltered she was, nothing more, nothing as foolish as love or soulmates or passion.

But watching him go right now had hurt worse than anything else, worse than his most venomous, snapped retorts, his sullen silences and the long days without catching even a glimpse of him.

Something inside him called out to something inside her and made the snow globe inside her settle, let her soul take a deep breath. This had been hidden by Lev’s confusion and anxiety, Bucky’s bristling and shields; but he’d peeled a part of himself back last night, dropped the mask of anger long enough for Lev to see the damage beneath, and today he’d fully bared his heart to her, let her see all his grievous wounds. And rather than driving her away, it had cracked something kindred open in her. The load she carried; the balls Lev forever felt like she juggled weren’t so life-or-death; she didn’t feel like she was hanging on by her fingernails and needed to constantly move to stay afloat when he was near her and, while her brain hadn’t yet caught up to this, her heart had.

But it was too late now. The moment was over, he had left, and she was leaving tomorrow.

She needed to drop it.

**************************************************************************

Lev yawned heavily, rubbing at her bleary eyes, not caring that she was most likely smudging her mascara. She hoped briefly that the Karen and her spawn would be on this flight, at least her strident complaints would help keep Lev awake.

After Clint got home, with Steve at his side they’d ordered pizza and sat down to watch gory, campy ‘80’s slasher movies and Lev had done her best to stay present but her brain refused to concentrate, Bucky and her pending departure forefront on her mind. The sorrow and misery on his face broke her heart and she’d hardly slept at all, tossing and turning, Bucky’s words, his gentle touch endlessly haunting her; she lost count of the times she reached for her phone, wanting to call him, but pulling back at the last moment.

Stopping at a coffee kiosk, Lev ordered a black eye and sipped it carefully, inhaling the comforting aroma. Due to her broken sleep, she’d left too early and consequently, had arrived at the airport too early as well and now wandered, pulling along her small carry-on and shouldering her backpack.

Clint had clients this morning and hadn’t been able to accompany her and for that, Lev was grateful. It was hard enough forcing herself to step onto a plane without her brother’s eyes on her as well. Their parting this morning, before Lev had gone out to meet the waiting taxi, had been full of unsaid words and choked back entreaties. More than once Lev caught Clint watching her with forlorn eyes, chewing on his bottom lip like he was fighting not to speak up and beg her to stay.

More than once on the way to the airport Lev opened her mouth to ask the driver to turn around, then closed it again.

Sometimes doing the right thing hurt, sometimes the correct path was the rockiest and Lev knew she would bleed for a long time over this, but it was the best thing to do.

Lev glanced up at a large clock on the wall of the terminal and sighed, they would be boarding soon. She pulled absently on the strap of her backpack and tried not to think about what she was leaving behind. The shop, the life, it had started to grow on her as she’d spent time among Clint and his friends, and she was genuinely sad to be parting from it all.

Especially Bucky. There had been something there, between them, right from the start and it hurt to leave without exploring their connection further, especially after that scorching kiss, but it was happening, she was here, she was leaving soon, and that was it.

She looked down the terminal, gaze trailing absently over the various people hurrying to their destinations, bumping into each other, throwing impatient glances at slower ones and was horrified to feel the prick of tears in her eyes as she acknowledged the fact that she was searching, waiting for Bucky to come running to her, to beg her to stay.

But there was no sign of him.

No. She wouldn’t cry. A bird may love a fish, but where would they live?

The intercom above buzzed, then Lev’s flight was being called to board and she turned, closing off her emotions.

***********************************************************************

Lev grimaced as she swallowed the mouthful of cold coffee, dropping the paper cup in the nearest garbage with a heavy exhale and a frown. When was the last time she’d had time to stop and pour herself a fresh one? Three hours? Four?

Tonight at the Emergency Department was especially chaotic and while Lev revelled in the crush and rush, in the never-ending movement that made it that much easier not to think about her life, it was draining. Ever since she’s arrived home three months ago and called up her mentor to accept his offered position, Lev had done her best to stay in motion, to stay busy and distracted and while she would be paying off the remainder of her student debts left over after all the scholarships she’d won far earlier than she’d anticipated, deep inside something was missing.

An ache had taken residence in her chest and refused to leave.

The worst part was she knew exactly what that ache was and how to cure it, but she couldn’t.

She’d left, and Bucky hadn’t come for her. He’d acknowledged, like her, that regardless of the pain, staying apart was better for both of them and there was no medication or treatment offered in Lev’s ER to combat that.

“Hey,” Kaylee, one of the trauma nurses and Lev’s few friends, bumped her shoulder gently as they both leaned on the unit’s main desk, conserving their energy for the next emergency. “You going to do it?”

Lev fought not to grimace, dropping her head to hide her expression. Kaylee had been trying for the last two weeks to pin Lev down for a blind date with one of her brother’s friends and while the little brunette sprite was persistent, so far Lev had managed to dodge her.

“I don’t know-”

“C’mon. You need to go out. Ever since you visited your brother you’ve been dragging your ass around!” Kaylee was never one to mince words and they’d formed a close friendship during Lev’s residency here, but sometimes the woman was insufferable.

“I have not been dragging my ass.” Lev hissed, trying to mask her irritation. She loved Kaylee and knew she was coming from a place of concern and friendship, but right now…. especially now, Lev didn’t want to hear it.

“He’s nice, tall, has a good job.” Kaylee continued, deciding to take a circuitous route to her point. “He’s really excited to meet you!”

Lev made a face. She’d had a chance at nice, tall and a good job before, and look where it had gotten her, although Bucky, in truth, hadn’t met the ‘nice’ part until just at the end.

“What’s his name again?” Lev stalled for time, furiously figuring out a way to escape.

“Stuart Pierson.”

Stuart. Levka and Stuart Pierson.

Not nearly the same ring as Levka and Bucky Barnes.

STOP IT.

“Kaylee, I can’t. I’ve got back to back shifts for the next week-”

“You know Trent wants them! He’ll take them off your hands!”

“And I’m still moving in-”

“Damn girl how long is that going to take? You bought a studio!”

“I’m just busy right now, okay?”

Kaylee fixed her with a Look, head tilted and hand on hip. “He’s not worth your time, Lev. Forget the gangbanger, okay?”

Lev winced, not for the first time regretting telling Kaylee about Bucky. She’d kept it general, not given his name or any real details about what had happened between them, and now Kaylee had this Hell’s Angels figure in her head, convinced that Lev had been ‘slumming’ it and the best thing to do would be to jump on the nearest WASP, namely Stuart Pierson.

But Bucky wasn’t a hood, and she hadn’t been slumming it. He’d been a decent guy that she’d gotten off on the wrong foot with and, rather than correct that, she’d left.

“Got a new one coming in.” Agnes, the old battle-axe unit clerk broke in. She’d been running the ER longer than anyone else and even the biggest asshole doctors respected and feared her. In truth, she was a secret sweetheart, as long as you provided covert homemade cookies and Starbucks every now and then.

“Got it.” Lev replied, instantly falling into her professional mentality. Although she was hella young compared to other doctors in the hospital, right now she and Dr. Abbott were the two most senior in the ER and he was sleeping in the lounge, an absolute bear to wake up.

Hurrying to the nearest sink, she quickly washed her hands then reached for supplies. Gown, goggles, booties; the ER could get messy rapidly and, as her heart began to beat faster in anticipation, Lev found her worries melting away. Later, after she’d stabilized the patient, after the adrenaline had worn off, it would be back, but Lev lived for this oblivion now.

Agnes called from the desk, relaying the EMT’s report and Lev listened carefully, forming a picture in her mind of what needed to be done.

“MVA, thirty-one year old male, t-boned at an intersection. Multiple breaks, possible internal bleed-” Agnes continued in a professional clip, reading off the man’s blood pressure, pulse ox, breathing rate and other pertinent information in short jargon indecipherable to the average listener.  

“Morphine given on-route, but patient is combative-”

Interesting, most people wanted the pain gone, but others were confused and fighting everything, still tangled in the chaos of their accident.

“Multiple LOC in the field but awake now-”

Head injury? On top of internal damage. Lev would need to page the surgeon on call and get a neuro consult.

The sirens became louder and Kaylee joined her, gowned and ready, all grim attention and anticipation. Suddenly, the bus was there, backing up to the bay as the doors flew open. One EMT jumped out and pulled on the gurney, joined by ER staff to unload it.

Lev saw bare skin and blood, heard the EMT speaking but turned her focus on her new patient.

“Trauma One, let’s go!” An oxygen mask covered part of the man’s face and he was fully locked down in a body brace on the stretcher, standard procedure especially with a potential head injury. Lev got glimpses of denim and a torn t-shirt, but most of the man was obscured by swarming nurses and machines, bandages and tubes.

Grabbing her penlight, Lev leaned over the man’s face.

“I’m Dr. Barton, I’m here to help you. I just need to check your pupils, follow the light please. Can you tell me where it hurts?” The words fell from her mouth, well-rehearsed and practiced.

The man tried to speak but his voice was lost in the chaos. Lev peeled back an eyelid and shone her penlight, searching for his pupil’s reaction. First one, then the other, both equally reactive, good.

With a tearing sound, the remains of the man’s t-shirt were cut from his torso and Lev studied him clinically. Plenty of lacerations and contusions, to be expected, and a troubling shadow in the lower quadrant- Jesus the man was cut, and not just by glass, his musculature was incredible and there was something so familiar about the ink-

Oh Jesus.

“Bucky?!” Lev gasped.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXV: Lion-Drawn Chariot

When I woke up in the morning, I wasn’t planning on saving anyone’s lives. Then again, did anyone ever plan those sorta things? Like, “so at noon I plan to go out and save someone’s life.” Nope. That sorta thing just didn’t happen. Maybe it was a Superman thing, I imagine Superman didn’t wake up every morning and go, “I think I’m going to save some lives today.”

But lo and behold, when I woke up, I checked my phone right away (‘cause I’m always on that phone) and noticed a very concerning text.

Now, you may ask yourself, “Cybele, aren’t you exaggerating?” And lemme tell you, hypothetical ‘you’, no. No I was not exaggerating one iota:

Unknown Number: Could you please come get me? No pressure if you’re busy or asleep or anything. Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway.

My eyes widened and I jolted up.

“Who?” Was my first question. Some unknown number just told me they’d be dead, and they listed the address to a hotel. Flags didn’t get much redder than that.

“Okay, think, think: Sunny might have gotten a new number,” I paced about and brainstormed as to who it could have been.

Yeah. That checks out. It’s just like Sunny to go off and get herself hurt. Of course she’d want me to bail her out.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard from Sunny. Probably a good six months. It was only a couple weeks ago that Ray finally gave me a call and explained the situation back at the diner. No wonder they went silent. I always figured Sunny stayed inside the diner with Ray due to the circumstances they faced, but it was true that she had trouble keeping still.

Yes, that’s true, but she’d stay at the diner with Ray if the circumstances are as dire as he said. I don’t doubt for a second that Sunny would help keep things together with Ray.

So if it wasn’t Sunny, then who? Frantic, I looked back at the phone.

What if I overslept and someone seriously was dying and now I’m too late?

Well, I could put that thought to rest: the text was only sent a few minutes ago.

“Still doesn’t give me time to shower...ugh...well, I’ll just slap on some deodorant, spray some rose water, and call it good. Whoever it is should consider themselves lucky that I’m showing up at all.”

No, that wasn’t the right attitude to have. Someone might have been dying for real.

“I’ll definitely save you,” I declared, still not totally convinced it wasn’t a scam.

To be honest, I was somewhat relieved to have an excuse to get back in my plane and fly around. Even if it turned out to have been a waste of time...no, it wouldn’t have been, because I’d be doing something I loved: flying.

Way back when Ray delivered that horrible news, I didn’t know what I’d do or where I’d go, but he had no problem with me taking the plane with me. It may have been the case that he figured if I took it with me, others wouldn’t have a means of getting to the diner, but whatever the reason, I just liked having it around. Things just didn’t feel right without it.

Oh, and it sure was a super fast aircraft, too! I arrived at the hotel parking lot within the hour. Now, as one could imagine, it was hard to find parking, so I had to park way in the back, and I was positive that there would be many a car furious with me for taking up so much space. But screw them, I wouldn’t be around that long, anyway!

When I stepped out of the plane, I looked around to find the parking lot near empty. Just a few cars here and there, kind of scattered like a tic-tac-toe board. Guess there was nothing to worry about (when it came to taking up space)!

“This is the place, right?” I was perplexed when I walked forward. Really, what did I expect to find? I had no idea and from the look of things, there was nothing to expect. It was just some normal looking hotel. OK. Layout: some tall, gold, fancy hotel, an awning, a few marble stairs. Some of the windows on the upper floors looked a bit busted, but aside from that, it had a sheen about it. Like, pristine sheen.

I continued to walk forward, in somewhat of a daze. It was rather early in the morning and I hadn’t had a coffee or anything like that. Closer, my foggy eyes not really clearing up, then my heart thumped on high alert in a single instant: blaring sirens of ambulances filled the air.

I shifted all around and tried to figure out what the commotion was. My head turned in a rapid manner, much more than a simple shake. Then, I spotted the culprit: a small body, collapsed and lying on the ground.

Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway, those words echoed in my mind with an accelerating intensity as I sprinted toward the collapsed figure. Once I caught a better look, I filled with dread.

I recognize this person.

She was sprawled out, on her back, a fresh, dark wound on her right shoulder. Her hair was no longer green, it was blonde, and she wasn’t wearing any glasses, either. What she wore instead was a dark purple hoodie, jeans, and a pair of fingerless gloves. Fabric from her hoodie had been torn on the bottom and a fresh, gaping cut was visible and the blood which ran down from it obscured the skin of her stomach. It didn’t look deep enough to have penetrated any organs, but it was still a concern, nonetheless.

Just witnessing it put me in a sort of shudder, a repulsion which I had to fight back against. Nerves against my eyelids tightened and I felt a strain on my eyes along with a reservoir of tears ready to form from beneath the surface. It was as if a gust of wind had struck them.

I knelt down, my heart still on high alert. The rush of endorphins, not to mention the stress and adrenaline, was all the energy I needed to wake me up for the morning.

Please still be alive. Please.

I placed two fingers up to the nape of her neck, sucked up a small amount of saliva, and drew heavy breaths. Two seconds. I swear, the longest two seconds I ever felt. Rapid fire thoughts pounded against the edges of my skull. It was enough to make me wonder if my head was about to split open, or if my heart would give out, unable to handle the anticipation. My breaths were heavy to the point that I sounded like I was in some sort of frenzied state.

At last, I felt a pulse.

What a relief. What a relief. What a rel –

“Ma’am! Get away from the body!” I heard someone shout behind me.

I turned my head to see an ambulance parked (well, ‘parked’ was a little generous, as it had been swerved to its side and burnt skid marks could be seen just behind the vehicle’s tires) and two paramedics who looked ready to push me aside.

Of course. It just has to come to this.

“I think not,” I defied them, “I’m this young lady’s primary care physician and I’m going to take her to my clinic with me. She’s requested if in an emergency, then I am to come get her directly.”

They both looked at each other, confused.

“Can we see proof?” One of them asked.

I fished out a fake doctor’s license as well as a forged note. Such (illegal) methods weren’t used often, and it was never something I enjoyed doing, but it’s come in handy at times when I’ve had to bail Sunny out. Her idea, of course.

“Oh, well, uh, okay,” their confusion still showed through their voice, but nevertheless, they fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“May I borrow one of your gurneys so I can get her onto my plane?” I asked them.

“Plane?”

I nodded.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

Acting was never one of my strong suits, but it turned out when you had just the right things to appear official, people tended to believe you. Needless to say, I got Demetria onto my plane and got right to work with the gauze.

Man, I’m really not a doctor. If only Cole-Slaw was here. She’d know what to do. Or she’d chew me out for not knowing what to do. Either way, I’m sure she’d be of more help.

In any case, she’d live. That much I knew for sure.

When I got home, I was too on edge to really do anything. I just sat on the couch and waited for her to wake up. Long stretches of time passed, and I would check in on the room I placed her in, with no such luck. It was concerning, to say the least, but I held out hope.

She needs rest. I’ll let her be.

Despite how serious it was, eventually the worry stepped aside and I got out my journal to write a couple of quick poems. Neither of them were all that good, but they didn’t need to be; their main purpose was to get my mind off of things. One of them started out like this:

Slumbers are a fickle thing.

So I go to the cupboard and pull out a box of cookies.

One by one, shoveled into my mouth.

Then I go back to bed, unable to sleep

due to the pain in my stomach.

But it was worth it.

What does it have to do with anything?

What is the meaning of sweetness?

An array of crumbs fall out of my pockets

and I’m visited by the sandman, who tells me

that he’s about to pour more crumbs in.

That bastard always gets the better of me.

Like I said, it left a bit to be desired, but I wasn’t done with it. Maybe in the third stanza, it would start to shine. But before I could get to that, I was interrupted by a rustling in another room, followed by a low groan.

I got up from the couch and followed the sound into the other room. Demetria stood hunched over in front of the bed I had laid her in. She propped herself up by holding onto the front-facing corner of the bedpost, but it was clear by the way she wobbled and her poor balance that she would fall back down onto the bed.

“Ow...ow...ooh,” she hissed and groaned, alternating between the two.

So she fell back down. Onto the bed.

“Owww...god damn it…” she moaned, adding, “I can hardly move. Ugh...I can’t believe I’m not dead.”

I shook my head and placed my hands on my hips.

“I swear, you’re just as bad as Sunny,” I scolded.

“Right, ‘cause if I’m going to have a role model, it may as well be Sunny,” she replied, deadpan in her delivery. She then turned her head and looked my way.

“So...you got my message?” She asked, her voice low and hoarse.

“Yeah. Mind telling me what happened?” I tapped my foot.

She looked away from me.

“I’d...rather not.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear, nor really what I wanted to hear, but I respected her decision.

With her good arm (the one that wasn’t all covered up in layers of gauze), she covered her eyes.

“Can I...can I stay here a while?” She wheezed, then coughed.

“Judging from your injuries, I’m going to say you don’t have a choice. Now try not to move around so much, and please, get some rest.”

What she said next kept me from leaving the room.

“You shouldn’t have picked me up. I didn’t want to be saved,” I heard her say through her low mutter.

“I don’t believe that,” emotions welled up in me. Yes, she was in a great deal of pain, but there were quite a few mixed feelings I had. Feelings I should have held back or saved for later, when she was recovered, but I couldn’t help myself. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t have sent that text.”

“I’m not worth it,” she replied, though it didn’t feel like a reply at all. It felt like she ignored everything I said, and was just continuing off of the last thing she said.

Don’t say that, I thought. I almost growled it out, but I stopped myself.

“Get some rest. Please,” I told her instead, my voice not low, but instead weepy.

She gave a short nod and I noticed tears run down her cheeks. My head hung low and I had to force myself to turn away and step out of the room. Her clear pain and anguish had me at a chokehold and I felt a tinge of regret leaving her alone like that. But if she was going to rest, she would need her space, so I pulled up the curtain and ducked my head, then left the room.

This house I bought was rather large, much more space than I needed. But I was rich and since I could afford to, I wanted to get something nice. Not to mention the fact that I was so used to living in a large airport, even though I didn’t own the airport, it was still a home to me, and I just didn’t feel at home without the wide, empty spaces.

So I lived in a tall house, all to myself. Most of my stuff was relegated to one bedroom (of which there were a few rooms; they all sat empty, save for the one Demetria was now in). If I wasn’t there, I slept on the couch. My kitchen, though wide enough to have its own “island” (I never quite understood why they called that thing in the middle of kitchens in big houses an island), but that too sat mostly empty. There were a few things in the fridge, but that was about it. I didn’t cook. I could have, but I was rich, and I wasn’t used to cooking, so I always just ordered takeout.

The room Demetria was in was kind of a little architectural experiment, as it was originally a walk-in closet tied to a separate (empty) room, but I took down the closet doors and replaced it with a butterfly pattern tapestry that hung from the wall instead. No, I never planned such a thing, but I had a bed in that little room. It wasn’t an especially large bed, as it could only fit a twin-sized mattress, but it was the perfect fit for Demetria.

As I said, I never planned for her to stay here, but I always thought it would be nice to have guests over. I mean, I had a couple friends here and there, and they lived thousands of miles away, but that was nothing for me since I had my own plane. That said, no one ever expressed wanting to stay over, all telling me the same thing, that they “didn’t want to impose” (really, guys? It wouldn’t be an imposition if I was the one offering).

One questionable decision I made was removing the ceiling light and putting a lava lamp in the room instead. Yeah, it looked cool, but the way it lit up the room and reflected off of the curtain gave the room a distinct red tint. Like the room was on fire. Considering how bloodied up Demetria was, it seemed rather inappropriate now. Hindsight, am I right?

So I sat on the couch once again and flipped on the TV. Usually it just sat there and gathered dust, something which it was rather good at, but I decided to turn it on just to have some background noise. Channel after channel I skipped through until I stopped at a local channel and noticed it was a recording of an opera titled Atys.

No, I had no idea what it was about. It was an opera, did anybody ever know what was going on? Yeah, didn’t think so. But it was nice to see all the pretty outfits, and it sure sounded pretty, too. So it was settled, I’d watch a bit of that. Then, I too began to doze off.

My rest didn’t last long.

Shrill screams forced me awake and in a panic, I rushed to the room.

I found her, sat up against the edge of the bed, a look of shock, anger, terror, or a mix of all three filled her face as well as beads of either sweat, tears, or both. Her breaths were loud and heavy and she shook in place, as if paralyzed in fear. I looked to where Demetria stared ahead, but saw nothing, only the shadow of the lava lamp which sat on a table next to the bottom end of the bed.

“Is everything all right?!” I shouted, unable to hold back the concern in my voice. I rushed over and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Demetria...Demetria…” I tried to get her attention but my soft voice betrayed me. In a conscious manner, I sharpened my voice and shouted:

“Demetria!”

She blinked and then her eyes darted around and although she still heaved, her breath began to slow down and her eyes relaxed.

“Sorry. I had a nightmare,” she stated, as if it wasn’t such a big deal.

Not knowing what else to do, I leaned in and pulled her into my chest and held her tight.

“Ow, ow. My shoulder,” she complained and I let her go just as fast as I held her.

She sat there and rubbed her left eye, then her forehead.

“It just happens sometimes. Those same images haunt me,” she continued. I didn’t know what she could have meant, but that initial bout of screaming was enough of a concern as it was.

“Was it about something that happened to you?”

She gave a short nod, then buried her head in her hands. I heard no sniffles or weeps, but the silence itself was enough of a worry.

“Do you want me to give you some space?” I offered a rather foolish gesture, but the best I could offer without knowing what else I could do at the moment. As she gave no response, I waited a few seconds, then got up, figuring the answer was “yes”.

As soon as I started to get up, though, she tugged at my arm.

“Can you stay here? I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” she begged. For added measure, she lifted her head up and gave me puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah,” I gave in. As much as I hated to admit, those puppy dog eyes were adorable. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be in the morning. Making sure you’re well is my main priority right now.”

She let go of my arm, reeled it back to her side. Again, there was a lull, a standstill. Neither of us must have known what to do or say next. At least that was the case for me.

“You’re probably wondering how I got like this, huh?” She spoke up at last. Her face was still obscured, her voice muffled, but it was a voice nonetheless.

“Yes. I would like to know, but I’m not going to force it out of you.”

She lifted her head up and leaned it against the wall.

“To be honest, I’d like to know, too,” she replied with a dry, hollow reply. Even though she forced a slight smile, it was clear from her tone that she was anything but pleased.

“You don’t know how you got your injuries?” I was perplexed.

“I killed someone,” she answered. “Correction: I killed quite a few people, but the one who gave me my injuries was just one man.”

“My God…” the words escaped me. It wasn’t that I was all that shocked; Ray definitely gave off “former yakuza turned househusband” vibes and Sunny was a chaotic bundle of joy who I’ve had to pull out of messy situations several times. It might have just been that Demetria didn’t strike me as the violent type, but then again, my frame of reference was rather narrow, so it wasn’t like I had a complete impression of her. Maybe that would all change once I spent more time around her.

“I know, right? Not very heroic of me. For the record, I never considered myself a hero, but at the same time, I never thought I would be capable of doing such things. Let alone willing. But here I am, I went from someone who wanted to prevent the deaths of others to causing them. So much for protecting people.”

“I’m sure you had a good reason, though,” I argued. After all, rude as she may be, I refused to believe she was a bad person. She turned to me, her lips folded into a frown.

“Do you think that makes a difference?” Her eyelids were half-shut and she looked ready to nod off. “In my mind, I did it to protect others. But there could have been a better way to go about it. Maybe I just wanted to satisfy a bloodlust. I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either,” I echoed her sentiment.

“Even now, I see the horror in their eyes. How they were torn to shreds.”

“Are you talking about the people you killed?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, then. There was still so much she wouldn’t tell me, and maybe I didn’t want to hear the details, but I still wanted to help in any way I could.

“Have you ever seen someone being eaten alive?” She asked. It struck me as odd, just as random, if not more than her previous statement.

“No, I can’t say I have…”

“It’s not a pretty sight. That shit sticks with you.”

Just what kind of things have you experienced? I was a little baffled, to say the least. Just the idea made me shudder. She rolled her eyes, then turned her head away.

“I wanted to be badass so I could impress someone I had a crush on. Then...I was exposed to things I never should have witnessed. So my motivation changed. I wanted to be stronger so I could protect others. But I admit, I still wanted to impress her, too. I’ll think about back then and think of how if I were stronger, they would have survived. Or if it was someone else who went there, someone better. Someone who wasn’t me.”

“We all have things we regret,” I tried to tell her, which wasn’t really all that helpful, I know.

“You don’t understand,” she sharpened her voice. It wasn’t quite a shout, but it still had a bite behind it. “The reality is that if I hadn’t gone there, they would have met the same end. It’s easy to play the ‘what-if’ game, but there’s no way to know if there was anything that could have been done, and somehow that’s even worse.”

She paused again, closed her eyes. Part of me hoped that she hadn’t gone to sleep just because I didn’t want her to wake up screaming again.

“I’m stronger now. I’m badass. I got what I wanted, but at this point, I’d rather go back to being how I was before: meek, timid, someone who minded her own business. Hell, I tried to go back to being her, but I can’t. She’s gone now. Every attempt to return to my old self just felt like fighting back against a current.”

“I may not know what it’s like to go through all the things you have, but I do believe that even if you can’t return to how you were before, you can still be who you want to be. Even if that person is different from how you envisioned yourself to be. Hell, I know it’s hard. I know, but you can still find comfort in who you are right now.”

It seemed like the most poignant thing I’ve said all day, and yet everything I said in that statement was something that I continued to struggle with, myself.

Rather than reply, she drew a heavy breath. Her head slumped over to her side, and I realized that she had gone back to sleep.

I felt a faint spell overtake me as well and there must have been a couple of microscopic versions of me who struggled to hold my eyelids open, but to no avail. Soon, I faded away, into the sea of unconsciousness.

When I awoke, it must have been early in the morning as a bright light shone through the room. I struggled up and found myself in much of a haze. Then, a pounding came. Well, there wasn’t one. At first I thought there was, but it turned out to be more of a notion in my head or my heart telling me that someone was at my front door. There was no basis for such a feeling, but I was compelled to follow it, nonetheless.

Through the sluggish movements, I reached for the handle on the door, then pulled it open. Upon doing so, a blinding flash of light burst into the house and I couldn’t see anything in front of me. No front yard, no dirt, no grass, no neighborhood. Nothing but the flash of light.

Soon, that dissipated, and the shapes of the environment right outside my house took hold. It was a slow process, though, and it seemed to be sapped away, or drawn in to a particular spot in the middle of my peripheral vision. Right in front of me, a little below me, until I saw who, or what was at my door: a little girl with ashen hair, soot and dust. Her large, beady eyes, like what a stuffed animal would have. Corduroy, was what she reminded me of. That little bear from a picture book way back when I was about her age. She wore a thick cloak, hood off. Actually, it might have been a short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. It was hard to tell which, as if whatever it truly was, my mind couldn’t decide what to see.

“May I help you?” I asked her.

She stared ahead rather than look up at me. Like there was something she was focused on, maybe something that she wished to steal from my home.

Oh, relax. She’s probably just a girl scout and trying to sell me cookies, I scolded myself. It was all I could do to feel at ease. Not that I felt dread around her, or that she held any malicious intent, but I still felt a little uneasy.

“Can I come in?” She looked up and asked at last, her voice soft and ethereal. She also didn’t look up at all. I didn’t see her head move, but I could tell I was the one being addressed.

Careful, Cybele. She might be a vampire. You know how those little girls who ask to come in are. First you say yes, next thing you know you’re strung up on the ceiling and a flattened husk of who you were, with a pile of your blood dripping down and staining your carpet.

...I really needed to get more sleep.

“Uh...Sure?” It must have been the tiredness in me, but if I was going to get eaten up by a vampire, it may as well have been early in the morning.

“Thank you,” she chirped, or blew forth the words, like a Magpie or a wind chime. But it was also gentle, and breathy as well. Neither a whisper nor a shout. Closer to the former than latter, but not really reaching the quietness of the former, either.

Another oddity was that after that, she didn’t move. I invited her in, but she didn’t walk in. I figured that was that when I closed the door and just chalked it up to a weird occurrence.

“Interesting home you have,” that same soothing and unnerving voice returned, and I turned to see her walking through my living room. Well, I could have said that, but she didn’t wander. She was close to the door. Right behind me, in fact. Despite her not having walked in, not even floated in (like a ghost would have at least been courteous to do), she was there.

For whatever reason, I walked over near where the room was where Demetria slept, but stayed outside the door frame and remained in the living room. Whatever that child wanted, she was already in my house now and probably wouldn’t leave until I figured what it was that she was here for. More than that, I needed to know who or what she was, if she was anything at all.

“So, what should I call you?” I blurted out the question. She didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“I wonder…” She looked around as she replied, “what do you think you should call me?”

“Anything?” I blinked.

“You would call me ‘Anything’?” She asked, as if entertaining the idea.

“Well, I mean, if I can call you anything I want to call you...what’s to stop me from calling you ‘Lampshade’?”

“What’s to stop you indeed.”

That still didn’t seem right. Everything reminded me of ‘be not afraid’, that kind of angel vibe.

“Are you an angel?” I wasn’t satisfied with calling her a lampshade. It was just the first thing I could think of that was next to me (there was a lamp next to the television set).

“Is that how you wish to see me?”

Another odd question. It seemed neither meant to mock, be an admittance, nor denial. Just a genuine sense of wonder.

“I…I don’t know,” I was at a loss. “At least tell me your name.”

“My name?”

“You know, like my name is Cybele.”

She smiled, even if it didn’t look like her lips made any such creases.

“Ah, Cybele, the Anatolian mother goddess. If that be your name, you may be most wonderful, indeed.” “Gee, I don’t know about that. I certainly don’t want to be anyone’s mom. No offense, but I’m not interested in raising any kids.”

“Why would that bring me offense?”

“I don’t...uh, anyway. What brings you here?” I felt like I was getting nowhere, and worst of all, I didn’t even know what she wanted.

She walked forward in a way that felt more like a glide. Despite it being one foot over the other, it was fast, but also light, and didn’t look the least bit like a run. As she approached me, for whatever reason, I fell back to the floor, and she passed right by me, into the room where Demetria resided.

I got up and followed her in. There was no reason to suspect as such, but I still didn’t want any harm to come to Demetria. Especially when she still had her injuries.

But when I saw the mysterious little girl, all she did was stare at the bed where Demetria lay.

“She’s seeing disturbing visions right now,” the girl stated. Lampshade or whatever else there was to call her.

“How do you know that?” I asked. It was probably true, though, that she was having bad dreams, but I still wanted to know the basis of how she knew. Hell, how she knew Demetria at all.

“We met once before, under less comforting circumstances,” the girl replied.

“She told me she’s been having nightmares.”

“Nightmares...little imps who ride on horses?”

“No, like, bad dreams. Like, we humans get tired, and when we get tired enough, our body starts to shut down and we let our consciousness fade for a little while. We call it sleeping, and when we sleep, we often have dreams. They can be weird and unusual, sometimes mundane, though. Sometimes pleasant and sometimes terrifying. It depends less on the content of the dream, but more on the vibes the dream gives off.”

That was weird, too. I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain what sleep was. Not to mention, it wasn’t just people who slept, most animals did.

I saw a smile curve up from the side of her face.

“Thank you. I’ve been wondering what sleep was for a while.”

“What? You don’t know what sleep is?”

She turned her head from side to side.

“I’ve yet to experience it, but now that I understand the general concept, I am interested in finding out what it’s like for myself.”

“That’s odd. By the way, it’s not just humans that sleep. It’s most animals. Err...living creatures.”

She gave a single nod.

“I have met other organisms. Salamanders are one of my favorite, but I am partial to humans. They’re who I wish to study the most.”

“Are you...not human?” It seemed so obvious, but I had to ask anyway.

“I could be.”

I suppose simple questions warranted simple answers. Not that it answered anything, at least not in my mind.

“Tell me, Cybele, do you believe in reincarnation?” She asked at last and I jumped from where I stood, startled to be addressed by name.

So you know of such concepts like reincarnation, but not sleep?

“I’m not sure. I suppose it’s possible. Haven’t given it much thought.”

“What about resurrection?”

“Even less sure about that one. I’ve heard about people coming back from near-death experiences, but that’s it.”

“Recreation? Reconstruction?”

“Well, there’s facial reconstruction surgery. Why do you ask? Do you think it’s possible?”

She let out a soft laugh, like a giggle. It really took me aback that she was capable of such things.

“I don’t know, either, Cybele. I was just interested in what you believed in.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I guess I’m not all that interesting.”

“Quite the opposite; your perspective interests me as much as any human’s does.”

That sounded like a compliment. It might not have been, but I couldn’t help but blush and smile.

“So what do you want with her? Are you here just to watch?”

That time, as if I asked the magic question, caused her to give a definitive answer.

“I’m going to transfer some memories into her. They’ll be in an unused space in her mind, so she may not even notice.”

“Will it hurt?”

“It won’t hurt. She may have dreams pertaining to those memories, but it shouldn’t affect her personality. Not any more than her personality’s already been affected by her experiences.”

“Will it help with her nightmares?”

“Mm...it might. It might also give her new nightmares. I can’t say, as this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Still...to think you’re capable of such a thing. Are you all-powerful?”

“I could be. However, there are things I’m much more interested in than that.”

She didn’t do anything with her hands, no magical beams of light shot out. There was nothing to indicate that she did anything to ‘transfer memories’, but after a few seconds of silence, she spoke up.

“It is done,” she stated.

“What was the purpose behind that?” I was a little awestruck at what little awe I had to be struck by.

“I’m just interested in seeing what might happen,” she stated, somehow both a definitive and non-definitive answer.

She shuffled out of the room, still the same gliding motion. Once again, I followed her. She hadn’t quite gotten out the door yet, so I decided I had more I wanted to ask her.

“Wait,” I tried to stop her before she could leave. “Before you go, I just want to know: am I dreaming right now?”

“Mm...You’re not sleeping, so by the definition you gave me, I don’t believe so. Unless it’s possible to dream without sleeping.”

“I don’t know...if it’s possible,” I yawned. That wave of tiredness I felt after Demetria fell asleep was starting to hit me again. I dropped down to the floor in response to my body’s demands. It wasn’t a pained collapse, I fell on my own volition.

“I’m starting to get sleepy,” I declared. Once again a yawn escaped me.

“How interesting. Would you like to sleep?”

I nodded my head. Now I felt like the kid in the situation.

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” I requested.

“Lullaby? What’s that?”

“You know, like a simple little song to get me to sleep.”

She lowered her head, as if deep in thought.

“Ah. I know one. Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are…”

With that, I drifted back off into sleep and the mysterious girl departed.

True morning was something far different.

For starters, the room was still dark. Well, I noticed light from outside the room. Of course, being that the ‘room’ Demetria and I were in was once just a big closet with no windows...yeah, it would make sense that it was still dark, even in daylight.

Oh yeah, that was the other thing: I woke up in the same place I fell asleep at in the first place, which was on the floor next to the bed Demetria slept in.

To my right was the bed. As I forced my way to a shabby half-awake state, I heard a shuffle from the bed and looked up to see Demetria sat up. She let out a low groan, her eyes squinted, then looked down where I was.

“Ugh...I just had the weirdest dream,” she rubbed her eyes with her palm and grumbled.

“Yeah?” I yawned. “What was it?”

“Well, I was in a fight with my cousin’s wife. We were both on a rooftop and she didn’t really seem like she wanted to fight, but I kept egging her on, and, well, she slashed me in the stomach, and I fell back. Last thing I remember was a stick being put in my mouth, then I woke up just now.”

That’s...disturbing?

“Huh. That is weird, indeed,” I commented.

“I know. We may not have gotten along much, but I wouldn’t want to harm my cousin’s wife. But I’m guessing it’s not so much because it was her, and it was more because of the fight I had at the hotel, and the guy who I didn’t want to fight slashed me in the stomach. Plus, my cousin’s wife did yell at me just the other night. But the context was a little different. She was upset, and I couldn’t blame her for that. Those people had no right to show up. I don’t know all the things she had to deal with, but I could only imagine how painful that was for her just to witness. As for rooftops…”

She scoffed, then gave a slight smile.

“Only thing I can recall is when I went to a place called Olympia and hid out on a rooftop to avoid guys shooting at me. Man, that place was a trip. Weird enough to have been a dream, but no, the actual dream I had felt real somehow. Like I lived it. Even if it may have just been a mishmash of various events over the past couple days...no, it didn’t feel like that at all.”

I was at a loss. From all the flakes of information she let slip, I could tell she’s gone through a lot. Much more than I would have expected from her.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I had a weird dream too,” I related.

“Yeah?” She sounded curious. “What was yours?”

I thought it over. I tried to think of what was weird about it. Actually, I tried to think about it at all, but couldn’t.

“Um...sorry. I thought I was gonna have something to tell, but I forgot,” I pouted.

“Eh. It happens.”

“So,” I hopped to my feet, “how about some breakfast in bed?”

“What are you, my housewife?” She groaned.

“No,” I frowned. “But it’ll be harder to recover on an empty stomach, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to get up much at the moment.”

“Are you gonna feed it to me, too?” She really wanted to make things difficult. Here I thought she’d have been more pleasant after a restful sleep.

“I...I haven’t thought that far. But if I have to, I will. Now, I’ve got yogurt and toast. That should be light on the stomach.”

She shrugged, then winced. For a moment, she must have forgotten how much pain her shoulder was in.

“Fine. I guess I can go for yogurt and toast. It’s something.”

It was settled: I made my way into the kitchen and pulled out a cup of Greek yogurt from my near-barren fridge.

“Greek yogurt, because...oh, never mind. Bad joke,” I scolded myself under my breath. Next was the toast. Whole grain, because that seemed like something she’d like.

After the bread popped out of the toaster and I had a spoon for the yogurt, I headed back into the room and handed them to her.

“Thanks,” she told me, then held up one of the slices of toast and bit into it.

“Ah!” I just remembered something very basic. Something which should never have been forgotten. “You’re going to need water. Lots of water. I’m also sure you’ll need to use the bathroom from time to time. Hmm...I don’t have one of those pee bags like doctors and nurses have…”

“Ew. I wouldn’t want to use one of those, anyway,” she spat. Ugh. Add that to the growing list of concerns: crumbs all over the bed.

“OK. Well, if you need help getting up, let me know and I’ll help you. I still don’t think you should walk all that much until you’re more healed, but at the same time you’re going to need to sooner or later.”

She nodded.

“Got it. You don’t have to act like my mom. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

That kinda ticked me off, not gonna lie. Maybe it wasn’t the best time, but I just had to say something.

“I’m aware of that and from the way you say you didn’t want to be saved, you know what? Maybe I really should have left you there,” I hated every word I spewed out and I felt on the verge of tears.

“I’m sor…” She began, but didn’t finish the word.

“No. Even if I’m upset, you still need help. I don’t want to boss you around, I just want to help you. It seems like most of the times we’ve met up, I’ve done things for you and helped you, and in some cases, I just wanted to be nice. But even so, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been used.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Hearing her said that just about broke me. I didn’t want to hear such a thing. Yet she continued:

“You gave me a chance, you offered to be my friend, and I never once considered taking you up on your offer. For my part, I didn’t even want a friend, be it you or anyone else. It’s not that I don’t appreciate all that you’ve done for me, but at the same time, I used you. You were convenient and I took advantage of you.”

I was speechless, unsure whether to be angry or heartbroken. But all in all, what did I expect? We didn’t know each other very well, haven’t interacted much, and yet I chose to help her out time and time again.

“I...I know I shouldn’t when we don’t really know each other very well, but I still care about you,” I brought myself to tell her.

“Why? I don’t understand,” she objected. To that, I let out a hollow laugh.

“Neither do I. I just do.”

She took a couple bites out of her yogurt, then spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t,” she argued again.

“I never said that I should, just that I do,” I countered.

She scoffed, took a few more big bites of the cup of yogurt, then set the empty cup off to the side, on the nightstand.

“I’m such a hypocrite, aren’t I? Here I am, admitting how inconsiderate I’ve been, and yet I’ve been the same way as you.”

“You have?”

“I grew to care about others who never gave a shit about me. Some of them should’ve been expected, though, but I at least thought when I left that I meant something to Sunny and Ray. But no. Instead, he texts me saying he never wants me back and blocks me. Just goes to show how little I was valued. He’d probably still welcome Remora with open arms, but me? Not a chance. It’s like –”

“That’s not true!” I interrupted her. As much as I felt for her, I couldn’t let her keep going on about that. Maybe Ray didn’t want her to know, but I believed that she needed to know. “He probably told you that to keep you safe.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“He came clean with me about it recently, and it’s hard to believe, but if it’s bad enough that he wants to keep everyone away, then I have to believe it.”

“Believe what?” She leaned forward.

“He told me about a fog. Apparently people have gone through that fog and gotten all beat up. It’s not a blizzard, either. It’s like the air is still, and the air is warmer near the diner than the rest of the arctic. He said it’s like there’s these invisible enemies that bring harm to others. Many injured people have shown up at the diner and he’s been trying to take care of every single one, but the airport is closed off because he wants to try to keep the damage to a minimum.”

“Why would he tell me that, then?” She grew angrier, and the explanation had the opposite effect of what I was hoping for.

“I don’t know. Maybe he figured if you knew, you’d try to go back.”

“He’s goddamn right, too! What? He thinks he can take all that on his own?”

“I don’t think that’s the case, but even if it was, you aren’t the only one he had stay away. Where do you think we are right now?”

She looked around the room.

“I don’t know. I just woke up here,” she replied. Which, fair point.

“We’re at my house, over in Alaska. I bought it after Ray ordered me to leave. He gave me enough money to pay for a hotel, and I had enough saved up to buy my own home from all the funds he’s given me.”

“Damn, Alaska, huh?”

That’s what you focus on? What about the fact that I’m loaded? I’m totally not strapped for cash at all, it’s awesome!

“He didn’t even want Sunny to come back, but she was stubborn and came back anyway. So while I’m not quite sure who this Remora person is, I doubt he’s making any exceptions.”

She thought over what I told her, then asked:

“How long has it been like that?”

“Not long after I took you back home.”

“So months, huh? Are they still alive?”

I nodded. Thank goodness they were, too.

“Apparently it eases up sometimes, and he’s able to escort some people out, but he still wants to prevent others from entering.”

“Sounds like they’re doing fine on their own, then,” she concluded. I was rather surprised to hear her say that, considering how she said she cared about them and all. But at the same time, I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to try to enter, anyway. At least not while she had injuries of her own that she needed to heal from. She didn’t need any more.

“I wouldn’t go that far. But my point in telling you all that is this: you have more people who care about you than you think. Hell, I’m willing to bet you care about more people than you think, too.”

“Heh,” she managed a smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Now, I offered it to you before, and you don’t have to take it, but would you like to be friends?”

She looked down.

“I don’t know...I’m not really someone you’d want to be friends with. In case you forgot, I’ve killed people. I’m not a very good person.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She pursed her lip. It looked like she was ready to pout.

“Yes. I’d really like a friend,” she said at last. Elation welled up in me and I felt like I could hug her, but I resisted, not wanting to exacerbate her pain. Still, I wanted to show her how happy I was to hear that, but it would have to wait as a vibration sounded off in Demetria’s pants pocket.

“Oh, my phone!” She sounded startled. She reached in and pulled it out, then answered.

“Hello?” She answered. “Oh, hey, Ves. Can I set it to speaker? It’s kinda hard to talk right now. Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just kind of hard to hold my phone right now.”

I gulped. Like, do what you gotta do, but I felt like I’d be eavesdropping. Knowing that, I should’ve left the room. But to be honest, I kinda wanted to hear what was talked about.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for yelling at you the other night,” the woman at the other end’s voice came through. She sounded a little weepy and mournful, but maybe it was just the reception.

“Don’t be. You have every right to react the way that you did. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Still, I don’t think you deserved that, either. Juniper helped me calm down and she suggested that you’re probably going through some difficult things, yourself. I want to be there for you, the way that Juniper was there for me when I dealt with difficult things. I don’t think you need to deal with it alone.”

“Thank you,” croaked Demetria in a near whisper. “Yeah, I was in a bad place. Both physically and mentally,” she looked over at me and smiled. “Now I’m only in a bad place mentally. I’ve got someone with me who’s helping me through some stuff.”

I couldn’t help but smile back at that.

“Are they like Juniper?” Ves asked.

“Sorta. Not really. It’s not romantic or anything. But I’m glad to have her around.”

“I’m glad too.”

“Thanks.”

“I just want you to know that you’re always welcome back here.”

“Thanks, Ves. I just think it’s best if I don’t right now.”

“I understand. Won’t you at least come back to get your stuff? You left it here.”

Demetria jolted upward.

“Oh shit, I did?! I’ll head on out right now!”

“No way you’re going out with those injuries,” I stopped Demetria. She was sat up and blankets pulled out, ready to hop on up out of bed. Once I told her that, she sulked.

“Injuries? Also, who was that?” Ves sounded like a smoothie blend of confusion and worry.

“Hi, I’m Cybele. She got pretty badly hurt, but she’ll survive. I cleaned up her wounds a bit and she’s all bandaged up right now, but I don’t think she’s in any state to be running around.”

“I see. That’s really concerning.”

“Yeah, well, if you want, I can get her stuff for her,” I offered.

“I don’t know...I don’t really like the idea of people I don’t know coming over…”

Fair, I thought. I bet I wouldn’t like that either.

“...But if you’re a friend of Demetria’s, I think I can trust you.”

“Great. I’ll be on my way.”

“Will do. Thank you, Cybele, and thanks for looking after my cousin-in-law.”

Ah, so she’s the one who Demetria had a dream about getting into a fight with. I wonder if I should ask her about that.

But I didn’t. She hung up and I stretched my arms.

“Looks like I’m heading out. Mind texting me the address?” I turned to Demetria and asked.

“Not at all. Thanks for doing this,” she began typing away at her phone.

“No problem. I’m sure at least some of those things are important to you. Now, before I go, feel free to wander around the house, but please try not to push yourself too hard.”

“Got it. See you in a little bit?” She asked.

I nodded, then waved.

“In a little bit.”

I flew out at once and I think the whole trip there took me maybe two hours at most? I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. Even if her stuff was way off in Indonesia, I’m sure I would’ve flown out to get it.

As soon as I found a nice empty patch of dirt to land in, I hopped out of the plane and approached their door. They lived in some remote place, far off from any cities or towns. Little bits of grass, some tilled farmland, a greenhouse, a shed, and a little chicken coop. Really, it looked like a nice place to hang. That said, I wasn’t sure if I could live there. As much as I was used to living in remote places, myself, I needed a certain...aesthetic that the country life they seemed to live lacked.

In any case, I walked up to the steps of their house, the wooden stairs creaked, and I knocked on their door. When the door opened, I was stunned at the beauty on display: a tall woman with glasses and near-white hair opened, and she was dressed in some kind of white robe.

“Whoa, you’re hot,” I blurted out. She raised an eyebrow.

“Do you always speak without thinking?” She asked.

“No, I swear I don’t. I’m sorry. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. You’re cute, yourself, with that ponytail and cap of yours. You remind me a bit of Juniper.”

I wasn’t sure who that was, but soon I did, as out stepped another beauty: a woman with blonde pigtails and muscular arms wearing a small tie-dye shirt and skinny jeans.

“And you’re cute,” I remarked.

Juniper, at least I presumed, beamed a bright smile.

“Thanks!”

“Isn’t she?” Ves gestured her arms as if to present her.

“Indeed! Anyway, I think I’m getting sidetracked.”

“Ahem,” Ves coughed into her fist, then changed into a more serious expression. “Yes. I as well. Tell me, is Demetria okay?”

“Well, like I said, she’s badly hurt, but she should recover. Her wounds don’t seem to be infected, and I don’t think she broke any bones. So at least there’s that.”

“Just what did she go through?” Ves mouthed out the words.

“I’m not sure if she wants me telling you, but I’m sure you can ask her.”

“Of course. I don’t want to pry.”

“I’ll go get her stuff!” Juniper declared, then walked off. As she did, I turned to Ves.

“Did you two get into a fight?” I questioned her.

“No,” she lowered her head, and turned to the side. “The other night I yelled at her. I had a mental breakdown. But it was nothing physical.”

“I’m glad to hear that. She just told me about a weird dream she had, so I got worried.”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, she said in the dream you guys fought on a rooftop, and then you slashed her stomach, and she fell.”

Ves took a step back and looked horrified.

“That’s...that’s…” She began, and it looked like I brought something out that she didn’t want to think about. “That’s strange. I don’t know what to make of that,” she said at last.

“Yeah, it was a dream, after all. Sorry, it was probably silly to bring up.”

“It’s all right. I appreciate your concern.”

I took a bow, then when I stood back up, I rubbed the back of my head.

“Oh, you know, it’s nothing special.”

Juniper came back out with a backpack and a couple pairs of shirts.

“Here ya go,” she handed them to me.

“This all?” I was a little surprised to see so little.

“Yeah, I guess she was a light traveler,” she shrugged.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll still appreciate it. Thank you guys,” I waved goodbye to them both, then hurried on my way back home.

Thoughts ran through my head as I approached the house.

Will Demetria still be there? She better, just so she doesn’t get herself hurt further. But at the same time, she does strike me as the type of person to run off.

It was a worry which turned out to be unfounded, as when I entered the house, Demetria was there in plain view: not in the room, but on the couch.

“Hey, I’m home,” I announced.

“How’d it go?” She turned and looked over to me.

“Eh, they seemed like nice people. Not really much happened. I just got your stuff, then left. How about you? How are you doing?”

“It’s been hard to get around. Had to prop myself up against the walls and stuff, but I managed. Found the bathroom and everything.”

“I’m glad to hear. I’m also glad to see you’re still here.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got a destination in mind for where I want to go next, but I’m going to wait until I’m all healed up.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She seemed to be in brighter spirits than earlier in the morning. I went ahead and plopped down on the couch beside her.

“So, wanna order take-out?” I offered.

“Oh, hell yeah! I’m starving!” She roared.

“What do you like?”

“I’m cool with whatever...but also I’m vegetarian. So there’s that.”

“Fine by me. How about Chinese?”

“Totally! I bet there’s noodles and shit.”

I snorted.

“Yeah, there sure is.”

I went ahead and ordered online, then when I looked up, I gasped upon seeing what Demetria held up.

“By the way, I found this while you were away. Neat stuff,” she had a devilish grin on her face and I wanted to yank my journal away from her.

“Please don’t tell me you read it!”

“A bit. Here and there. Neat stuff. Though I’m sure I could write better.”

“Oh yeah?” I huffed.

“Yeah. Poetry’s easy. Anyone could do it. Here: ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. Uhh...Fuck. I can’t think of anything else. How are you?’ See? Easy.”

I burst into laughter.

“Well, I had a good laugh, at least.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed. “I get it. I’m a comedic genius. No need to rub it in.”

The rest of our night went fairly well. We seemed to bond a bit here and there, something I never imagined.

Soon days passed and she walked around more and more as the days went by. On one occasion, I found her with her laptop open and sat up on the bed.

“I’m actually thinking of taking online classes to finish up my Master’s program,” she mentioned.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a big deal for me. I dropped out for kinda stupid reasons, but truth be told I was losing interest in my studies, anyway. Still, I don’t like to leave things unfinished, so even if I’m no longer interested in marine biology, I’d still like to complete my program so I have something to show for it. For my own sake, anyway.”

“Well, I think it’s a good idea. I support your decision,” I gave a thumbs up. “Still, sounds difficult. I don’t think I could do online classes.”

“Eh. I don’t see myself liking them, either, but I don’t want to show up in person. I feel like I’d be a disgrace to whatever campus I ended up on.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”

“I know...it’s just regrets and stuff.”

“I know how that can be, too,” I admitted. “Still, if you need any help with tuition, let me know. I’m pretty rich, after all.”

Gee, I really tried to brag about that whenever I could, huh?

“Thanks, but I got my own money,” she pulled out an envelope. “It was a birthday gift from...err...someone. It’s not important who.”

“If you got enough to pay for tuition for your birthday, sounds pretty important to me.”

“Trust me, it’s not. I feel bad even using it, but a gift’s a gift.”

I wasn’t going to press any more about the subject, but I was glad to hear that she was considering doing something meaningful.

All in all, it probably lasted about a month in total before she (at least said that she) was all healed up. I didn’t expect her to leave so soon, and her bag wasn’t packed, but by coincidence, I happened to be the one who sparked her departure.

“I’ve gotta say, this is a pretty cool place you got,” she wandered around the house while I sat at the couch and tried to think of another poem to write up.

“Yeah! I’m loaded! Ray paid me well!” I shouted. All I knew was that she was somewhere upstairs. “I didn’t even check my bank account before or after I bought this house, because I was pretty confident that I could already afford it!”

Yeah, it was shallow, but I had to take pride in something, I suppose.

“Whoa, really?” She called back. “How much you got?”

Out of curiosity, I decided to go on my phone and check. I figured I must’ve had like, a couple million or something? Seemed about right. However, once I checked my bank’s app and saw how much I had, my jaw dropped and I had to hold back a scream.

“No!” I wailed and kicked my legs against the base of my couch. “I’ve got less than a thousand! I’m running low on money!”

Demetria ran down the stairs and slid down the railing. I looked at her and was about ready to break into tears.

“I don’t wanna get a job!” I whined. “People might misgender me, and I might have to deal with customers. It would be horrible!”

“Why would they do that?” She tilted her head. “Oh wait, never mind. People are dumb, especially customers.”

“Argh. I should’ve checked my bank account sooner! This house cost me most of my money! Now I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

“Relax. I’m sure I can get you some money to get by.”

I looked at her, my eyes widened.

“Really? How?”

“Eh. I’m resourceful. You’ve helped me out, and it seems simple enough for me. I just need your help to get around a bit.”

Of course. I mean, I didn’t know how I could trust her, but I just had to. Between taking the word of a violent friend and having to find a job...well, the answer was pretty obvious to me. That, and, I didn’t mind so much helping her out, as long as I didn’t feel like I was just being taken advantage of.

“Great. I’m going to pack up. I was about ready to leave anyway, so this is a perfect opportunity for me.”

“So soon?”

“You know me. Always running around. I’ll try not to get myself killed before you get your money, at least.”

“All right,” I laughed a little. “So where to?”

“Chicago,” she declared.

Really? Chicago? What could’ve been so good about there? Well, if she was so confident she’d find what she needed there, then so be it.

[twinkle-320]

The Climb

This is my submission for the Quote me on this challenge.  The quote I was given appears in the mood board below and is bolded in the fic.

This is my first fic on tumblr so I am a little nervous.  I tried really hard to keep it to 1000 words but admittedly went a bit over (1490ish 😬).

Since my writing is new you can Meet my MC here.

Song for this Drabble:  “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus

Warning: light language and suggestion of lemon

Tag list for Quote me on this:

@riseandshinelittleblossom @leelee10898​ @ao719​ @darley1101​ @theroyalrookie​ @bobasheebaby​ @texaskitten30​ @batgirlassociationofgothamcity​ @burnsoslow​ @drethanramslay​ @openheart12​ @candy72008​ @bebepac​ @twinkle-320​ @h3llostrang3r​ @lucy-268​ @dcbbw​ @oofchoices​ @blackcoffee85​ @anotherbeingsworld​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @twinkleallnight​ @trappedinfandoms​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @losingbraincellseveryday​ @god-save-the-keen​  

Drake woke to the sun streaming in through the windows of the master suite in Valtoria. Blinking to adjust to the harsh light, he noticed the drapes had been pulled open and a breeze flowed in through the French doors that had been left a jar. When he turned to reach for his wife, instead of her warm, soft skin, he found a ball of fur where their corgi Fletcher lay sleeping in Riley’s spot. Pulling on the pajama bottoms he had left folded at the bottom of the bed, Drake slowly made his way to the balcony, stretching the sleep from his body.

Outside, as he suspected, he found Riley already dressed for the day, curled up on the comfy outdoor sectional with her usual chai in hand. What he hadn’t expected to see was the chaos she was surrounded by.

In her lap sat a textbook and a notebook in which she was furiously writing notes. On either side of her where multiple binders with color coded tabs, bursting at the seams with papers spilling out. An empty mug, presumably from an earlier chai, sat on the table surrounded by dozens of post-it notes, fabric swatches, and paint samples.

Leaning down to clear himself a spot, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before she even looked up and realized he was there. Drake laughed as she jumped in surprise. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, Marshmallow,” she replied, finally looking up and giving him a smile. 

“You’re up early.”

Riley sat down her pen and mug, and ran a gentle hand over her growing belly. “Bean decided to start kicking practice at the crack of dawn. I have so much to do, I figured I’d take advantage of the quiet.”

Drake lovingly placed his hand over hers and leaned down next to her belly. “You’re supposed to let Mommy sleep, Bean.”

Riley rolled her eyes playfully and ran her free hand affectionately through Drake’s hair as he kissed her belly. Drake had softened even more when they found out about the baby and it made Riley’s heart swell.

“So what’s all this?” he asked, sitting up gesturing to her organized chaos.

“Well...this,” she said patting the book in her lap, “is case study. I have a predictive memo due next week for my legal writing class. These binders are for duchy work...one is all the research for my tourism proposal that I have to get to Liam in the next day or so and the other is plans for the lantern festival that’s coming up.”

“And that mess?” he asked pointing to the table.

Riley laughed. “Random thoughts I’ve written down so I don’t forget...appointments, calls I need to make, baby names, nursery themes, plus some ideas for paint colors and design.”

“Hmmm, well, you are notoriously forgetful Nevin.”

 “I blame the baby.”

“Shhhh, don’t listen to her Bean,” he said leaning back to her belly. “She was plenty forgetful before you came along.”

Riley playfully nudged Drake away. “Baby brain is a real thing, Drake!” 

“Okay, okay...I believe you,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“So...is there any chance you can help me with some of this? Maybe look over my tourism proposal or weigh in on nursery stuff. I’m starting to wish we knew if this little one was a he or she. I could design a kick-ass nursery in no time if I knew.”

“It’s not too late to find out, Nevin.”

“You know we can’t Drake. I’m sure Liam wouldn’t care but Bertrand...ugh, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard him say ‘One must follow all Royal protocol when one is carrying the Royal heir’. I almost recorded him to set it as my ringtone when he calls.”

“I don’t know how my sister puts up with him,” Drake said, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’ll help however I can when I get home but I have to head to the capitol. One of the mares at the palace stable is due to give birth and I have to be there as part of my clinical rotation.”

Riley sighed. “Who’s bright idea was it for both of us to go back to school while running a duchy and having a baby?”

“I believe it was your idea, Your Grace,” Drake jested as he stood up and bowed. 

Riley swatted him on the ass. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Correction...I know I’m funny.” Drake leaned down and grabbed her pen and a stack of post- it’s, scribbling a quick note. “I’ve gotta go. But here is your top priority for the day.”

“Draaaakkke,” she whined, “I already have too much.”

“This will make it better.” Drake placed the note in her outstretched hand.

“Ask for help,” she read. “Drake, you know...”

“Yes...I know...I know you like to do everything yourself but you have Gladys and Hana here. Delegate and don’t try to be super woman; promise me.”

“Fine, I promise.”

After a quick shower, Drake threw on his scrubs and headed to the kitchen for coffee and a light breakfast to-go. Gladys was there conferring with one of the chefs and Drake took the opportunity to ask for her help with Riley’s to do list. Gladys was more than happy to offer assistance. With his coffee in hand, Drake grabbed his nap sack, tossed in an apple and one of the protein bars that Riley insisted were filling and waved on his way out the door. ——————————— Hours passed while Drake waited on the arrival of the foal. When he realized he wouldn’t be home for dinner, he had sent Riley a text. Judging by her brief reply, he was positive she was hard at work.

It was after 10 PM when he arrived home to find Gladys still in the kitchen. “Everything okay, Gladys? Shouldn’t you be off for the weekend by now?”

“I’m headed out now, sir. Just making some final notes on the lantern festival ball for the chefs.”

“So Riley let you help?”

Glady looked timidly toward the ground. “Well, sir...if by help you mean follow her around while she made plans and then handed me this completed binder, then yes...she let me help. I’m sorry, sir. I tried.”

“Don’t apologize. Where is she now?”

“She took supper in her study and has been there since.”

Drake thanked Gladys and saw her out before walking upstairs in search of his wife. Passing the nursery, he saw a soft glow of light and peeked inside. There were large bolts of fabrics all over the floor and 2x2 squares of 10 paint colors on the wall. Clearly Riley had been busy.

When he reached the study, he knocked and received no response; only the sound of her ‘thinking music’ playlist. He gently opened the door and saw Riley sound asleep with her head on the keyboard of her laptop. On her desk sat both her completed proposal and predictive memo. On the screen, there appeared to be a new proposal, half written before she nodded off. Drake rubbed gentle circles on her back and spoke softly not wanting to startle her; she was not pleasant to wake up.

“Mmm, Drake,” she groaned. “You’re home.”

“I am. Sorry it’s so late. So...should I even ask if you kept your promise?” Riley looked away without a word.  “I figured as much.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t over do it, I promise. I just...I guess I nodded off because I’m a little stressed.”

“I have the cure for that,” Drake said with a seductive smile.

Riley grinned at him. “You think that’s the cure for everything.”

“Am I wrong?”

“When it comes to that?...no. You certainly know how to make me forget my troubles.”

“So let’s go...I’ll relieve that stress and pleasure you till you forget all about to do lists.”

“I want to...I do, just...let me finish this proposal I started and...”

Drake pressed his lips to hers, interrupting her excuses. “Nevin...this is too much, you’re gonna burn yourself out. When are you gonna stop trying to do it all?”

“Don’t stop until you’re proud,” she replied, noticing the look of confusion on Drake’s face. “That’s what my mom used to say to me and Drew; don’t stop until you’re proud. She knew we’d feel better from accomplishing something than we ever would from giving up.”

“Asking for help is not the same as giving up, Nevin. It’s just a shared accomplishment.”

“I know, but...”

“No buts,” he said, reaching around her to close the laptop. “This will all be here tomorrow.” Drake swept her into his arms with ease and carried her toward their room. “Right now, I’m gonna ravish you till you’re screaming my name and forget your own, because that makes me proud.  I promise it will be much more satisfying than any proposal.”

[sinful-stories]

Bloody Carpets

This is my entry for @nicole-lynne ‘s 350 followers challenge. I had Derek Hale and the line “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” I didn’t really describe the reader so I hope it can be read as either a guy or a girl. Enjoy.

Characters: Derek Hale, Chris Argent, Malia Tate, Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Reader. (Lydia, Stiles and the rest of the pack are mentioned).

Derek leans back in his chair before setting his legs on the table in front of him. It had been quiet in Beacon Hills lately, minus a few new supernatural beings who moved in though they hadn’t caused any trouble to his knowledge. Scott hadn’t needed him yet for anything, so he’s gotten bored despite to increased numbers of hunters also living in BH with them. He put his arms behind his head, closing his eyes with a small sigh escaping his lips. Chris Argent had his hands full attempting to keep what Gerard had done before his death. Cora never returned, choosing to stay in South America where she wouldn’t be hunted or harmed at every turn. Isaac recently returned from France after training with the Argents there, becoming both a hunter and staying a werewolf in the mix. Scott and Stiles often worked with the sheriff’s office, though Stiles still worked for the FBI and was often gone on cases. Lydia began working at the school in order to keep an eye on the younger creatures, not because she didn’t trust them but rather she worried about them. Malia decided more recently to work with Deaton at the pet clinic without giving her reasons as to why. Jackson returned permanently to BH with Ethan so they could help Scott with the sudden influx of beings coming here. Cory, Hayden, Liam, and Mason were currently traveling outside of BH for a few reasons. They needed a break and to go to college but to also look for anyone who needed help. New creatures kept coming up and different breeds, though the one who bothered Derek the most had to be (Y/N). You showed up alone and seemingly running from a troubled past. You refused to open up about what happened or what led you to hide away in a town for the supernaturals when you seemed to be a human. With a snarky tongue and fierce attitude, you got under his skin in a way he didn’t like. Their arguments tended to end with one of them somehow injured. He liked you, and he wouldn’t deny that fact plus he couldn’t lie around any of the werecreatures throughout the town. Something about you drew him to you but he never had the best luck with romantic partners so he chose to ignore his growing affection for you.

His eyes open when he hears someone grab the door handle to his loft before it slide open. He quickly drops his legs from the table in order to greet who stands in the doorway before the scent of iron finally reaches him. (Y/N) stands there with blood dripping down multiple different wounds, you look like you could barely stand on your own with your skin looking several shades lighter than usual. Derek jumps up and runs over to you, barely managing to catch you when you attempted to step forward again like you wanted to meet him halfway somehow. He easily picks you up and rushes over to the table, easily clearing anything on it. You grip his sleeve as he lets go of you to pull out his phone, you didn’t know who he wants to call but you’re scared and he can smell it.

“No cops.” You manage to say finally, “Please.”

“I need to call someone. You’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

You huff but drop the hold you have on his sleeve, attempting to cover one of your wounds to avoid any more blood dripping on his carpet. He dials a number you’re not quick enough to see and walks away from the table, speaking in a low tone with the other person. You couldn’t believe you’d been stupid enough to be caught by a hunter in this town, you thought they didn’t attack unless they had reason to. Then again, that protection came strictly by being within the McCall Pack which you weren’t in. A loner through and through. You’d hoped that being here in BH would slow the hunters that have been on your trail since you turned, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. Derek ends his call with a small grumble before approaching you again, his eyes slide over the different injuries like he’s trying to figure out which one to treat first. He can’t see them very well though, most of them being hidden by the bloody fabric clinging to them.

“Do it,” You sigh, “I know you have to.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not like I have anything you haven’t seen on one of your exes before.”

He studies your features for a few heartbeats before he rips open your shirt, exposing the different injuries covering your abdomen and back. His fingers lightly grazing scars he didn’t even notice at first, concern instantly coming into his darkly colored eyes. Pain rolls off of you in waves, it’s a sour scent that causes Derek’s nose to scrunch up. He reaches out and places his hand against the largest wound, you immediately know what he’s trying to do. Pain absorption. A skill most werecreatures have. It works on animals and humans, but it rarely works on other beings. It didn’t work though. Derek no longer had the Alpha status, he couldn’t take the pain from any other creatures. Scott told him to keep the wounds covered until he got there with Isaac and Malia, he wanted Isaac there in case you needed to be held down while the others worked on your injuries. They still weren’t sure of what you were so they wanted to a Beta there, other than Derek of course. He walks away again and ignoring the way you attempt to grab his sleeve to keep him from leaving. Faintly the sounds of his sink reach you, but it hurts for you to even move your head around right now so you trust your senses. You know what you need to heal, but telling him might cause him to turn you over to the hunters. Werewolves have never been very friendly with your type. You can’t help but to feel a pang of something at that thought, the thought of Derek betraying you. Closing your eyes, you try to recall your life before this. But for the first time, you can’t. You can’t remember your parents, friends, or anything else about yourself.

“Hey, keep your eyes open.” Derek’s harsh tone snap you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry.” You mumble.

“I understand, but you need to stay awake until Scott gets here.”

“Scott. As in Scott McCall. The true alpha who died twice before he was out of high school?”

“Is he that well known?”

“His whole pack is, even you.”

Derek snorts as he begins wiping the blood staining your skin with a warm, wet cloth. He hates that he can’t take away the pain rolling off of you in waves, he hates when he smells the stench grow stronger every time he wipes the wounds. You grip fistfuls of your jeans to keep yourself from lashing out at him, from drawing blood from him to heal the wounds. They weren’t sealing or scabbing over and you could feel how weak you’d become thanks to all the blood loss from dragging yourself to Derek’s loft. You did it because he’s in Scott’s pack, and you trusted him for some reason. No hunter could hurt you in Derek’s loft, hopefully.

 Scott and Malia were still waiting for Isaac at Deaton’s vet clinic. Scott took the time to pack up what he assumed they would need to help an injured person, although he wished Derek would bring you to the hospital so his mom could look at you. But he understands why. Most beings here don’t trust the humans since the hunters were everywhere. The hospitals, the sheriff’s station, the school… everywhere. Malia keeps saying that she doesn’t trust you because she doesn’t like how you smell, something about your scent caused most werecreatures to give you weird looks. But Scott never finds it off, he also doesn’t see why someone would hurt you. Isaac finally pulls up outside though instead of staying in his car, he gets out and rushes over to Scott with a file in his hands.

“Scott. I know why they got hurt.” Isaac skips any greetings, handing his alpha the folder.

“Why?” Scott askes even as he takes the file.

His eyebrows raise almost instantly as he reads the information printed there, he didn’t think vampires were real. No one he ever saved could tell him, they were rare to come across. Someone put a price on your head, a big one at that, and they wanted you dead rather than alive.

“We need to get to Derek. Now. This says they don’t care how it’s done or what rules they break. Whoever put this price tag out there won’t care about hurting Derek too. We should also call Chris, in case we need back up.”

Malia grabs the backpack Scott had packed and the trio hurry to Isaac’s car. Scott just hopes they can get there before something worse happens.

 Derek stands over you still, keeping an eye on how much you’re bleeding with an unreadable expression on his features the entire time. You couldn’t tell if he was mad from the blood soaking into the carpet or if he was concerned for your life. He moves to your other side, wiping away the sweat dripping from your forehead with a small frown. Scott didn’t normally take this long to get here, whether he had been busy or not. He’s trying not to pace around the loft, you weren’t moving a lot anymore and he hasn’t been able to get you to open your eyes since you closed them a few moments before. The sounds of multiple people slowly approaching his loft door causes him to look up from you finally, his eyes turning to an icy blue. His shoulders becoming tense as his nails turned into claws with a frown tugging on his lips. Though the tension leaves him when he sees Chris pull the door open with Isaac, Scott, and Malia.

“What took you guys so long?” Derek grunted.

“Chris needed to stop by the hospital to get what we need for your friend.” Isaac pulls the door shut, glancing at the amount of blood.

“The hell does that mean?”

“They’re a vampire, Derek.”

Derek looks down at your barely moving form, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. From the stories he remembered being told by Peter, they were supposed to be the opposite of werewolves. They chose to have covens though they liked being loners. They killed without care about who they hurt or turned in the process. They took and took and took yet rarely gave to others. The hunters, however, had taken control of the ‘out of control’ vampire population. It made them harder to find which made the hunters angry, they didn’t like how easily they could blend in with humans. Their eyes didn’t glow in pictures, they didn’t have super strength or hearing. They couldn’t handle a lot of sunlight though they could handle some of it. Their eyes were sensitive to the light, very sensitive. But they could heal faster than most humans. Their hearts still beat enough to avoid concern from medical personal. They could eat normal food, but they needed blood daily to survive. Everyone assumed it had to be human blood yet something tugs in Derek’s mind. He doesn’t believe it’s true.

There hadn’t been any reports of late night attackers that ended with someone dead or heavily injured. He shakes his head and glares at his former Beta, not believing a word from him. Chris walks over to check your pulse before he swings his bag forward, setting it on the ground to pull out a blood bag from the hospital. He refuses to look at Derek while cutting it open and allowing some to drip onto your lips. Your eyes open instantly but they’re no longer (y/e/c), rather a bright red that somehow manages to glow even in the evening daylight outside. You snatch the bag from Chris, drinking it greedily and hungrily. Derek steps back from the table, his eyebrows raising almost immediately. From the way you drain the bag, he knows you must have been hungry yet you never made a move to drink from him. You had held yourself back the entire time and that went against everything he had ever been told about vampires. He watches as you swipe the blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, licking the blood from your thumb. The others in the loft watching you in a mix of surprise, horror, and concern as the wounds covering you begin healing at a rapid rate they hadn’t seen before. You take a second bag of blood from Chris and rip it open with your teeth, finally exposing your sharpened canines in the process. It didn’t seem like you cared as blood slides down your throat and chest, dripping onto the blood stains from your blood there. Licking your lips once the second bag is finished, you look at the people around you in silence unsure of what to say.

“You’re a vampire.” Scott says, “Stiles is going to have a field day with this, he always swore you guys existed.”

“We do, sadly. Most of us weren’t turned with our consent though.” You shrug, wiping the blood from your mouth.

“Is that why you have a bounty of your head for killing your family?” Isaac speaks up, his tone unusually harsh.

“I didn’t kill them. I’m just the only one who wasn’t killed, so my grandfather is convinced I did. I’ve been on the run for years now.”

Scott studies you in silence, the debate he’s having mentally clear on his features. His arms crossing as he begins to pace. Chris and Malia both watch you with sympathy in her eyes, though neither attempt to get closer to where you sit on the table close to where Derek is still standing. Isaac, however, is glaring at you like he doesn’t believe a word coming out of you. Not like you care though. You’re used to people not trusting you. Derek studies everyone, scrubbing his hand through his hair with a small sigh like he can’t understand what’s going on. Then everyone starts talking. Isaac wants to send you back to your grandfather. Chris thinks you should go with him and keep hiding. Scott wants you to join his pack of misfits. Malia thinks you need to go to the police or Stiles. You argue against everything. You didn’t kill your family, and you weren’t planning on getting killed for something you couldn’t have done. Derek stays silent the entire time, trying to ignore all the yelling. He just watches the blood dripping down into the blood stains and it begins to annoy him adding to the annoyance that had been building from everyone talking.

“Goddamn it! I told you before, you’re bleeding all over my carpet!!” Derek roars.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Marked (Part 23)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~4670

Warnings: Dean being an absolute dickwad. Which! In my defense! He usually is, canonically, when he’s upset... also, angry sex. 

A/N: So a while ago my brain was like “Here! This needs to happen!” And I was like “oh thanks I hate it.” So. Yeah. Been dreading this chapter for a while. Here it is. Thanks to @covered-byroses @fangirlxwritesx67 and @fookinghelljensensthighs for showering Marked with compliments when I was about ready to smash my head into a wall. Y’all helped. 

He’s okay.

I exhaled, long and shaky.

Good. What about you?

There was no answer. I fell asleep holding my phone, waiting, with a cold heavy ache settling in my chest like a stab wound.

When they came through the door the next morning, Sam was limping and pale and leaning heavily on Dean, but he was there, alive, trying to smile for me, and for a moment I could breathe.

I had to fight the urge to run to Dean, wrap my arms around him, prove to myself that he was really there.

“Can I do anything?” I asked softly, as Dean started to steer Sam to his room.

“Painkillers might be good?” Sam winced.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” Dean said, smiling sharp like a dagger.

-----

I gave them some time. I tried not to worry. It was normal, for Dean to be stressed. He’d calm down.

When I finally went to his room, I didn’t bother to knock. He was sitting at his desk, staring dully at the glass of whiskey he was rolling between his palms. He didn’t seem to notice when I closed the door behind me. I leaned back against it, keeping my distance, trying not to push.

“How you doin’?” I asked quietly.

“Just peachy,” he said, without looking up.

“Dean. Come on.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” It sounded like he was running on autopilot.

I wondered how many times he’d told that lie in his life.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit.”

“Yeah, that was a stupid question,” I muttered, more to myself than him. I felt cold all over.

He downed the last sip and immediately poured himself a refill from the half-empty bottle on the table. Then he turned and gave me one of those canned smiles he was so good at; I wasn’t used to seeing it aimed at me, but I recognized it.

I crossed the room slowly, like I was approaching a skittish animal. He raised an eyebrow when I grabbed the glass out of his hand, but he didn’t try to stop me. I drained it and set it back down in front of him, and he immediately reached for the bottle and poured another.

“I think I need some space,” he mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “Can you just… not do this? Not with me.”

He didn’t answer. He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking at me mulishly. I crossed my arms right back at him and we stared each other down, one brick wall to another.

He shook his head after a moment, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. He picked up his glass again and frowned at it.

“I can’t do this with you right now,” he said gruffly. “Maybe you should just… go home. At least for a couple days.”

I knew him, I knew he didn’t actually want me to leave, but that still stung. I took a deep breath.

“Nah, I’m good here.”

He scowled. “I’m serious. I need… family time.”

“Sam just took so many painkillers he’ll be out cold for the next couple days. By ‘family,’ do you mean ‘whiskey?’”

“Stop,” he sighed.

“Stop being a fucking fuckwit and talk to me,” I snapped, exasperated.

I could see him studying me, tilting his head to the side, mouth twitching unhappily, but then he squared his shoulders like he’d made a decision.

“Don’t you have anywhere better to be?” he asked coolly. His eyes had gone oddly blank.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I don’t have time for this whole fuckin’ mess right now,” he said, gesturing between the two of us.

“That’s not-” 

“Can you just leave me the fuck alone?” he barked, but I could see the pain lurking behind his anger, twisting his features into a bitter mask. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Just want you to talk to me,” I said quietly.

“There’s nothing to fuckin’ say,” he growled.

“Asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.”

I made an incoherent noise, too frustrated to form real words. I grabbed the bottle off the table, raising an eyebrow and silently daring him to comment as I unscrewed the cap and took a sip. The burn made me feel a little less like I was choking. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and slammed the bottle back down roughly.

“Oh, that’s real mature,” he said sarcastically.

“Can you just-”

“You’re a real slow learner, aren’t you?” he snarled, and the sudden venom in his voice took my by surprise.

“What-”

“People who hang around me for a while? They tend to get hurt,” he said flatly. “You of all people should know that by now.”

I took a deep breath, grinding my teeth, hands squeezing into fists at my sides. He watched me, gauging my reactions. He looked implacable, wearing a plastered-on expression of disdain; if I didn’t know better, I’d think he didn’t care.

He knew exactly how to cut me apart. He knew all my soft vulnerable spots. If I let him, he would eviscerate me. He’d do it clean and clinical and neat, just cut himself out of my life, and then I’d be alone, nothing left to do but sanitize the wounds with cheap whiskey and hope the blood loss wouldn’t kill me.

Fuck that. Last time he drew a knife, I’d barely survived.

“Gonna take more than that to chase me off,” I said. I sounded more confident than I felt.

Dean licked his lips, eyes darting over my features like he was analyzing something, before he stood up abruptly, crowding into my space and making me take an instinctive step back.

“You should go,” he repeated, low and dangerous.

“I’m not scared of you.” I looked up at him, defiant.

He took another step forward, predatory and prowling. My back hit the wall. I realized what he was going to do a split-second before I felt his fingers on my wrists.

“You should be,” he said, voice ragged and bitter, pinning my hands over my head.

Bile burned the back of my throat. I swallowed it down and held eye contact.

I could see how much this was hurting him. His words were rough, but his eyes were huge and soft, fucking anguished; he looked like he was drowning.  I could feel the instinctual prickle of fear creeping up my spine, but there was no way I could ever mistake the raw, real, scared Dean in front of me for the monster who’d been wearing his skin that night.

My heart was racing, but it was from anger, more than anything else.

“Are you done yet?” I said hoarsely. “‘Cause even for you, this is a whole new level of bullshit.”

His eyes went wide for a moment, and then his face just sort of crumpled, tension going out of him all at once, mouth dropping open. He stepped back, releasing me with a choked gasp.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, as if he could hide from me. “Shit, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, I’m sorry.”

I was shaking, adrenaline flooding my body, but the only thing I could feel was rage.

“Dean,” I snapped.

“Sorry. I just- I thought it would be easier. If you just… had to leave.”

“Fuck you,” I spat.

He flinched away from me. I threw myself at him, stumbling forward and colliding hard, wrapped my arms around him, and held on for dear life.

He took a deep, convulsive breath. I could feel the hitch of a repressed sob where I had my cheek pressed to his chest. His hands were gentle at first when they came to rest on my back.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. He ran his fingers delicately up my shoulderblades.

I squeezed him again, hard, clutching at the back of his flannel, and then he gave in with a barely-there sigh and clung to me desperately, breathing soft and shallow and panicky.

“Asshole,” I hissed, but it came out muffled with my mouth pressed into his shoulder. “Fucking… motherfucking piece of shit.”

I was so fucking furious I felt dizzy, and my vision was blurring through the tears. I nuzzled into the curve of his neck and slid a hand to the back of his head, pulling him closer, and then I cupped his jaw and surged up blindly on my tiptoes to kiss him, head spinning as my teeth sank into the softness of his lower lip.

Dean sighed, a quick sharp sigh that caught in the back of his throat, and I tasted copper. There was so much energy just rocketing around under my skin with nowhere to go, making my nerve endings sizzle and spark. When he bit back, nipping sharply, the sting felt like a distress flare roaring to life with a blinding magnesium-bright blaze. He gasped against my lips and then crushed his mouth to mine again, sucking and biting and setting me on fire.

I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him, and then I wanted to kiss it better, and I felt like I was going completely fucking crazy.

I whimpered as I tried to press myself closer. His hands found my shoulders and held me in place with an iron grip.

“Wait,” he said, forehead pressed to mine. “Wait, I just - I’m -”

“I know,” I snapped.

“- I’m so sorry, I -” 

“Fuck now, talk later,” I said breathlessly, and he huffed out a laugh, thumb stroking the hinge of my jaw, as we tried to pull ourselves together.

We were both trembling, still, and I could feel tears drying on my cheeks. I spared a millisecond to wonder whether this was healthy, whether this was really the best choice, whether we should stop and figure things out before we dove in deeper… then he was shoving me backward, pushing me against the wall again, his hands strong and sure as he hooked them under my thighs and hitched me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and sucked a bruise into the soft skin just under his ear, and he let out a long, rough whine, hands squeezing my ass.

He spun us around and carried me to the bed. Maybe he couldn’t see where he was going, maybe he didn’t care. Either way, I was still tangled up in him when we crashed onto the mattress, his weight coming down on top of me, punching the oxygen out of my chest. I could feel him, the solid grounding pressure of him, all down my body. I dug my heels into the bed, pushed my hips up, and he was grinding against me, pinning me down and rutting into me. I saw stars.

“Clothes,” I panted, and tugged at his shirt, trying to get it over his head. Before I could make much progress he was sliding down my body, yanking my jeans and underwear down as he went. I only managed to get them kicked off one foot; they were still bunched around the other ankle as Dean hooked his hands under my thighs so that he could grab me by the hips and hold me where he wanted me.

He just breathed, for a moment, close enough that I could feel the warm air ghosting over my pussy, and then he slid the very tip of his tongue down my center, parting my lips gently.

“Don’t fucking tease, I’m not in the mood,” I groaned, trying to tilt my hips up.

He didn’t say anything, just spread me open and ducked his head. His tongue dragged up and over my clit with just the right amount of pressure behind the soft swirl of it, and then he curled two fingers into me, licking between them. I grabbed at his hair, arching up so that I could rub myself on the flat of his tongue. He moaned, low and dirty, and buried his face between my legs, lips working my clit in a way that sent molten heat through my belly.

Dean scissored his fingers and pressed them up, and my vision went white for a second. I bucked up against his mouth and made an incomprehensible sound, hooking my leg up over his shoulder and digging my heel into his back to urge him closer.

He fell into a rhythm, sucking my clit with these long waves of pressure and catching my g-spot with the calloused pads of his fingertips every time he curled his hand up against me. He added a third finger, twisted, pressed, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the fireworks threatening to blind me.

“Don’t fucking stop,” I gritted out. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t- don’t-” 

It wasn’t the sort of slow-build orgasm that swells and peaks and eases you into the crest of it; this was instant obliteration. I let out a long, wordless cry and went under. It was intense and overwhelming and so fucking good, flashing out from my center and making me twitch up into the hot wet pressure of Dean’s sinful mouth.

He didn’t give me any time to recover, even when I started to squirm away. His tongue kept up the swirling pressure on my clit and his fingers rubbed that perfect spot inside me, and I couldn't stop shaking with the lingering shocks of my orgasm.

Pleasure started bleeding into shivery wrung-out not-quite-pain. The pulses of it were setting my teeth on edge, making me twist my hands in the sheets and whimper.

“Dean,” I said breathlessly. “Dean, fuck, c’mon.”

He pulled away just enough to look up at me and answer, “Hmm?”

Jesus, his mouth. His lips were swollen and red and used, puffy from my bruising kisses and now glistening wet. I could feel it, could feel how slick I was, slippery and soaked where his knuckles were stretching me open, but it was something else altogether to see the obscene shine all over his mouth and his chin. I made a strangled, high-pitched noise, clenching around him, and he did something with his fingers that sent a whole new wave of heat through me.

“Want you to...” I started, but trailed off into a moan; his tongue was flicking over my clit again and I couldn’t form words.

He gave me one last lick, slow and savoring, and then he was sitting up to pull his shirt off and reveal all that gorgeous skin. I had that feral urge to mark him up, sink my claws in… I could barely tear my eyes away from Dean long enough to sit up and get my own shirt off.

Luckily, he seemed to be on the same page. He was on me as soon as he’d managed to kick his jeans away, hands on my waist and teeth on my neck, biting his way up to my ear and then whispering, “What do you want?”

That seemed to be the impossible question of the entire goddamn week.

I hesitated for a moment before turning over, getting on my hands and knees, and Dean hummed in agreement, or maybe it was appreciation. I arched my back and looked over my shoulder at him as he shifted into place, and I could see him staring down with hungry, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Dean?” I said hoarsely. “Just… fuck me hard.”

He licked his parted lips, eyes going dark. The expression on his face sent this thud of need through me just as he sank in, filling me up so completely I couldn’t see straight. I dropped my head down and rocked against him, panting as I tried to adjust.

“Yeah?” he rasped. His hands gripped my waist. I just shifted forward and then pushed back, grinding on his cock, feeling the perfect ache where he split me open.

It was like the first orgasm had barely taken the edge off. All that aggression and pent-up anger and blistering lust were still there, simmering low in my belly, starting to boil over again.

“Fuck me already,” I hissed. 

He let out a growl and slammed into me hard enough that I almost lost my balance. I dropped down onto my elbows to brace myself.

“Hard enough for you?” Dean grunted, fingers digging into me and holding me in place.

“That’s all you’ve got?” I said, goading him on, but the high, breathy whine in my voice gave me away. “Want you to fucking destroy me, come on.”

He laughed, gripping tighter, fingernails stinging my skin, and then he was fucking me with long, grinding thrusts, hitting my g-spot every time. I was dripping wet, slicking every hot, hard inch of him, easing the slide as he moved sharper, faster, pounding into me with a rhythm that made my toes curl.

“Love the way you take my cock,” he panted. “God, look at you, you gonna come for me again?”

I was shaking already. I twisted my hands in the sheets, trying to get some sort of purchase, some leverage, so that I could push back, get more, somehow take him deeper.

“More,” I whimpered. “Please, Dean, more.”

Dean leaned forward, planting one palm in the middle of my back, between my shoulderblades, shoving my face down into the mattress, and then he wrapped the other hand around my throat. That was all it took; the feeling of being overpowered, held down by his big rough hands, sent me over the edge. My entire body went rigid, and I bit down on the sheets to try to keep myself from screaming.

Dean was cursing as I came back to myself, rocking into me, and I could feel the way he was holding back.

“Jesus, you feel good,” he groaned. “Don’t want this to end yet, I…”

He pulled out and I whimpered, but he just shifted us forward, guiding me until I was flat on my stomach. He pushed my legs closer together, straddling my thighs, and when he thrust into me again it felt so good, so tight and overwhelming, that a little shiver of an aftershock went zinging up my spine.

I felt him take a deep, ragged breath. He was running his hands down my back, just smoothing them over sweat-damp skin. Then he dragged his fingernails down, a trailing fiery sting. I cried out, arching my back almost painfully to try to thrust back against him.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, and then he rolled his hips, grinding against me and making me squirm and pant under him. He was crushing me down against the mattress, trapping me in place, but I wouldn’t have been able to muster the coordination to move, anyway, with the way each movement made me tremble. I felt so fucking full.

Dean was getting close; I could feel it in the desperate, jerky way he was starting to move, and I could hear the way his breath caught in his throat.

“Wanna feel you,” I said hoarsely.

Instead of speeding up, he slowed down even more. He seemed to sort of melt, draping himself over me, pressing his chest to my back, and I could feel his gasps and his racing heartbeat.

He nuzzled the side of my neck, pressing his lips clumsily to my skin. I turned my head, straining, so I could kiss him, sloppy and off-center, more a brush of slack panting mouths than a real kiss.

I could feel Dean’s entire body on mine, like this. I felt his muscles bunching and flexing, his chest heaving, his cock dragging over some secret spot that made my vision go white and sparkly at the edges.

I had that too-full, achy sensation in my chest, like choking, like love, making it hard to breathe.

He slid one hand up my arm, up to my wrist, and then blanketed my hand with his, lacing his fingers through mine where they were pressed flat to the bed. He held my hand and he worked his hips, buried impossibly deep inside me, making me shudder down to the tips of my toes.

I wasn’t sure when fast and filthy had dissolved into this syrupy-slow intensity. I could feel every rock-hard inch of him pressing against all those perfect spots inside me, so goddamn close to me, so goddamn full, so intimate and pulse-poundingly good it didn’t leave room for anything else, least of all anger.

“God, I wish you could feel, you have no idea,” he said desperately, quiet against my ear. “Feels so good. Just hot and wet and so tight, dripping on my dick. When you come I can feel it in your pussy, just… squeezing me, like you can’t get enough, best thing I’ve ever fucking felt, and… oh, fuck, I can’t, baby, I’m so close, I - touch yourself for me, want to feel you come with me, just…”

He still had my left hand in his, but I worked my right hand between myself and the mattress, fingers finding my swollen clit. I didn’t have to move, not really, with the way his hips were grinding in perfect little circles. I let his movements do all the work, shoving me into the blunt pressure of my fingertips.

It was almost too much, the shock waves of pleasure that started jolting through me. I whined, overstimulated. Then Dean’s hips surged forward harder, making me shout.

“God, there,” I moaned, and then we were rushing toward the finish line together.

There was nothing graceful about it, nothing that would’ve fit in a romance movie sex scene; we were lost in each other. I was making these raw, shredded noises, sweating and cursing, too far gone to be self-conscious. Dean was clutching at my arms, my hair, hands grabbing at every part of me he could reach as he fucked me, hips swiveling, grinding down, crushing me into the mattress. It was rough and animalistic, and all I could think, in time with the throb of heat in my core, was love you, love you, love you.

“That’s my girl,” Dean gasped. “Just like this, c’mon, baby.”

I broke with a shout. Everything tensed and finally released, electricity splintering through me with this fierce, sharp, near-painful intensity. He let out a guttural moan, driving into me wildly one last time, and came, cock twitching with the first hard pulse of it, spilling hot and messy inside me as my cunt spasmed around him, over and over.

I couldn’t catch my breath. I took deep gulps of air like I was drowning, wrung-out and lightheaded. Dean shifted, taking some of his weight off my ribcage, but he didn’t pull away yet.

I could feel the flutter of him going soft inside me, the tickle of sweat cooling between us. My heartbeat began to slow.

For the first time since the phone call, I felt calm.

Dean nosed the damp hair at the nape of my neck and nibbled at the shell of my ear, and then he was pulling out. I made a disgruntled noise and he kissed the top of my head before getting up, padding over to grab a washcloth and a fresh glass of water.

We got cleaned up and settled properly into the bed, snuggled up against the pillows. I curled into his side and traced the lines of his tattoo. He stroked my hair gently for a while in silence.

“I almost forgot, y’know?” he said softly. “What my life is like, most of the time. I’m never gonna be that guy.”

“What guy?” I asked, sitting up a little so I could look at him.

“The guy who gets a happy ending,” he said, with a bitter twist of his mouth. “I don’t get the happy ending. I forgot, I guess. When you’re here, it’s so easy to forget about everything else, and then… people get hurt. Sammy got hurt.”

“Dean,” I said, swallowing hard. “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“I let him down,” he said grimly. “I let people down, I can never -“

“But -“

“And it’s not just that, it’s… I’m afraid I’ll hurt you, cause I just suck at this. Relationships. I’m fuckin’ crazy about you, Christ, but I don’t deserve you, not after that shit I just pulled. I’m crazy about you, but I’m kind of a dumbass when it comes to talking, and feelings, and shit like that.”

“Not gonna argue there,” I muttered. He half-laughed, but it turned into a sad little grimace. “But, like… I’m not the picture of sanity myself, here, y’know? And I love you so much I can’t think straight when you’re around.”

He ran a finger down my cheek, smoothed his thumb over my lower lip, tracing my face like he was trying to memorize it.

“Maybe that’s not a good thing,” he said. “You don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you, and it doesn’t really matter how you feel if you can’t trust me. Right?”

“I’m working on it,” I said, blinking back tears. “I’m trying to get better.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested, anguished.

“I know, Dean. I know.”

We looked at each other for a moment, quiet and sad. I curled up against his chest again, pressing my ear over his heart, listening to the steady comforting thump beating in his ribs.

“Maybe we could figure it out. Maybe it could work, if we did it right, y’know? So if you really wanted to, maybe we could try,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around me. “But…  do you? I mean, do you even want this? A couple days ago…”

“I don’t know, Dean. That’s the problem. I keep hurting you right back, stringing you along, just fucking being here when I don’t know what I want. I know I’m hurting you.”

“Okay,” he said soothingly, running his fingers through my hair. “Okay, baby.”

“I’m afraid we’ll just tear each other apart if we keep this up,”  I whispered, tears trickling from my closed lids and dripping down onto his skin.

“Maybe we both need to just take some time,” he said.

I didn’t want him to be right, but it made sense. We weren’t healthy, either of us. This wouldn’t be healthy. Part of me almost felt relieved, thinking about it. It’d be easier, if I just took some time away from him.

“Maybe it’ll be better, when I’ve had time to… heal, or whatever,” I said, miserable and unsteady. “Get myself under control. I don’t want to hurt you either, and maybe… maybe I’m just not ready.”

“Think we both need some time to figure our shit out,” he said shakily.

“What if we just gave it a couple days, for now?” I suggested. “Think about it. Make sure we’re doing the right thing. I’ll go home, and… I dunno, try to get my life together.”

“I think that’d be a good idea. Get some space. Get our heads on straight. I’m not so good at being rational when you’re around.”

“And in a couple days, we can just… I dunno. Talk again. See how we’re feeling.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can do that.”

We didn’t say any more. We held each other, for a few minutes. I felt hollow and fragile, and I didn’t want to walk away, knowing it might be the last time for a long time, but there was no point in waiting.

“Just one more minute,” Dean whispered.

——-

I didn’t let myself glance in the rearview mirror. I didn’t let myself look back.

This was the right choice. It had to be. We couldn’t keep hurting each other like this. If we kept slicing each other open, we’d do permanent damage. Better to take a step back. Better to find our footing, get ourselves under control, before one of us bled out.

This is right, I told myself, as I pulled up to my dark, empty little house. This is good.

I just felt hollow.

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