#hopefully ill get part 2 up by the end of the weekend!!!!

[notyourprof]

A’s Very Incomplete But Hopefully Easily-Digestible F1 & F1 Fandom 101

Since @powerful-owl's call for F1 Primers, I’ve seen several really nice, detailed, intro-to-race weekend primers, but I wanted to provide a…slightly less intense one for folks who are brand new and aren’t yet interested in learning about the difference between understeer and undercutting. So, just in time for the final race of 2023, in the style of @writesharriet's The Untamed 101, please enjoy A’s Very Incomplete But Hopefully Easily-Digestible F1 & F1 Fandom 101.

1) Okay, fine. What is Formula 1?

Formula 1, aka F1, is an international car racing series that’s been happening annually since 1950*. There is a new racing season each year, and the number of races per year has increased over time. In 2024, there are 24 races scheduled, the most ever, and they will take place in 21 different countries, starting in March and ending in December. Drivers earn points primarily by finishing in the top ten places of a race. (There are other ways to earn points, but that is the main way.) The higher a driver finishes, the more points they get. Each season there are two championships up for grabs: one for the driver who scores the most points, called the World Drivers’ Championship or WDC, and one for the team that scores the most points, called the World Constructors’ Championship.

*Technically, some F1 races happened before 1950, but 1950 was the first year of the championship series.

2) Wait, there are teams? Isn’t racing, like, an individual sport?

Yes, and also yes. There are currently (as of 2023) ten teams in F1, and each team has two cars (and corresponding drivers) in each race. There is a long set of rules that each team must follow when constructing their cars, aka the “formula” of Formula 1. There is, however, flexibility in the rules for team engineers to be creative and innovative, so there are (sometimes drastic) differences between the cars in a given year. The popular names of the ten teams in the 2023 season are: Alfa Romeo, AlphaTauri, Alpine, Aston Martin, Ferrari, Haas, McLaren, Mercedes, Red Bull, and Williams. All ten of those teams will be back for 2024, but a few will have new names.

(Many of the teams have longer names that often include sponsors, e.g. the Aston Martin Aramco Cognizant F1 Team, and some of the current teams have changed names over the years, and/or have upcoming name changes. The intricacies of team/constructor names are a subject for a different post.)

3) Okay but what about the drivers?

Most teams have the same two primary drivers for the duration of a given season, and these days, many drivers will be with the same team for a large part of their career. Most teams also have a third (aka reserve, or backup) driver who can step in at the last minute if a primary driver is injured or ill. It is also possible for teams to replace their primary drivers mid-season. This is especially common among teams that have close partnerships with each other (e.g. Mercedes and Williams) and/or are owned by the same company (e.g. Red Bull and AlphaTauri).

But in general, you can usually assume that the drivers for a given team will be the same for an entire season. This can lead to intense rivalries! (If you like enemies/rivals to lovers, you are in luck in this fandom!) It’s often stated that the only “true” way to compare two drivers against each other is if they are teammates and therefore driving identical cars, because then it’s down to the driving prowess of the driver. (It is, of course, more complicated than that, but those intricacies are again beyond the scope of this post.)

For the past few decades, it has been common for there to be dominant drivers (in dominant cars) who win a number of WDCs in a row. For example, if we look at the WDC winners (and their teams) since 2010, they are:

2010: Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull)

2011: Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull)

2012: Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull)

2013: Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull)

2014: Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes)

2015: Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes)

2016: Nico Rosberg (Mercedes)

2017: Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes)

2018: Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes)

2019: Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes)

2020: Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes)

2021: Max Verstappen (Red Bull)

2022: Max Verstappen (Red Bull)

2023: Max Verstappen (Red Bull)

Unsurprisingly, you will find a lot of fannish content about the recently-dominant drivers.

4) Who are the current drivers? What about next year?

I have a spreadsheet for that! It is incomplete, but I’m working on filling it out, as well as extending it back in time.

You can use the tabs at the bottom to switch between different ways of sorting/viewing the information, i.e. by driver vs by team.

4b) Okay but who are the people I need to know about for fandom?

The drivers you’re most likely to run into in fic, in alphabetical order by last name, are:

Alex Albon

Lewis Hamilton

Charles Leclerc

Lando Norris

Daniel Ricciardo

Nico Rosberg

George Russell

Carlos Sainz

Max Verstappen

Sebastian Vettel 

Some of the team principals (essentially, the leaders of each team) show up often as well, mostly:

Christian Horner (Team Principal for Red Bull, married to Geri Halliwell, aka Ginger Spice)

Toto Wolff (Team Principal for Mercedes, married to Susie Woff, nee Stoddart, who is a former driver herself, currently runs the F1 Academy series for developing young female drivers, and deserves her own post)

Common ships are:

Max Verstappen/Daniel Ricciardo (aka Maxiel)

Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg (aka Brocedes)

George Russel/Alex Albon (aka Galex)

Max Verstappen/Charles Leclerc (aka Lestappen)

Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel (aka Sewis)

Carlos Sainz/Lando Norris (aka Carlando)

5) Isn’t there a Netflix show too? What’s the deal with that?

Yes, there is! It’s called Drive to Survive (usually abbreviated as DTS) and it’s both a great way to get to know the personalities of the drivers and also not a 100% accurate portrayal of the interpersonal relationships between drivers. For example, one of the drivers was so displeased by the portrayal of the relationship between him and a former teammate that he basically refused to participate for the next few seasons. (The relationship was portrayed as far more acrimonious than it actually was.) That said, you can absolutely participate in F1 fandom having only ever watched DTS and never watched a race or any other content! Your experience will just be enriched if you also do things like follow the drivers & teams on social media and start to watch races as well.

6) So what are the barriers to entry?

Well first, you have to acknowledge that this is a very silly sport in which most participants are tax-dodging millionaires and billionaires yet still somehow likeable. Once you get past that...

You need a Netflix subscription to watch DTS, but otherwise, that part is pretty straightforward. Watching the actual races (and everything else associated with a race weekend) is a bit more complicated…

7) Okay, FINE, if I were going to watch a race how would I do that?

First, a heads-up that the actual race (aka the Grand Prix) is not the only thing that happens, there is an entire race weekend. A typical race weekend involves: two practice sessions on Friday, one practice session and one qualifying session on Saturday, and the race itself on Sunday. The practice sessions (officially called “free practices” and abbreviated as FP1, FP2, and FP3) allow teams and drivers to get used to the track as well as play around with different ways of setting up the car. The qualifying session is used to set the start order (called “the grid”) for Sunday’s race. It’s broken down into three parts, and the start order is determined by the lap times the drivers set–the faster the lap time, the higher up a driver starts on the grid. (For the most part. There can be other factors in play such as grid position penalties. Again, the details of qualifying and grid penalties are beyond the scope of this post.) 

Note that for the past few years, a few weekends per season are “sprint weekends”, which have a different format. Again, the details aren’t really for this post, but I plan to write another post specifically about sprint weekends sometime in the near future. Even on sprint weekends, there is still the actual race on Sunday.

New fans might not find the practices very interesting, so I would generally recommend starting with a race itself and perhaps qualifying (aka “quali”) also. 

(Podium celebrations for the top three at the conclusion of a race involve lots of sparkling wine spraying everywhere.)

7b) Okay, so how would one watch the race itself? 

It is…complicated, and very region-dependent. 

If you’re in the UK, you need to have a subscription to Sky Sports to watch anything from a race weekend live. Note that if you don’t have a Sky Box, there is only a short period of time in which you can watch a race back…after that, you can only watch race highlights on Sky. 

In the US, you need a combination of ESPN cable channels (e.g. ESPN, ESPN2, and ESPNU) and ESPN+ access to watch everything, although sometimes the race will also be shown on ABC. Alternatively, you can subscribe to F1 TV Pro, which gives you live streaming of everything from race weekends, plus access to watch all of the past races. 

Frustratingly, F1 TV Pro is not available in all countries (notably, not the UK), and in those countries the only option is F1 TV Access, which is cheaper, but does not include anything from the current season, just the archived seasons. You can check what’s available in your country here: https://www.formula1.com/en/toolbar/content_schedule.html Unfortunately, I am not familiar with other viewing options in other countries, but if anyone adds info in replies or reblogs, I will add it in! 

As you watch the race, you will hear the commentators use a lot of jargon that you can find explained in other, more detailed, primers, but even if you don’t understand a whole lot of what they’re saying, it’s still enjoyable to just watch the racing!

Even if you can’t ever watch a race live, F1 puts a lot of content on their YouTube channel, including race recaps and highlights: https://www.youtube.com/@Formula1 They also have a lot of fun content with the drivers (see the “Grill The Grid” series, especially) in addition to plenty of explainers about the tech and design of the cars. The individual teams also have great YouTube channels with lots of general and race-specific information as well as fun content with their drivers.

Okay, I think this primer has managed to be both too much and not enough, LOL, so it’s time to call it. Happy race-watching, folks! 🏎

(If you spot any factual or grammatical errors in this, please let me know so I can fix them! I wasn’t able to get someone to read this over in advance, so it’s very possible there are some!)

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 7

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6000

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Warnings: Language

Although this is an RPF, it is a character I created and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

*** Saturday ***

“Hey man,” Jared greeted Jensen, clasping hands and pulling him in for a half hug. “Glad to see you’re still alive. How was it?”

The entirety of the trip was still catching up to him. He was tired, from being in constant motion for three days straight to sleeping on crappy motel mattresses. But it was more than that. He had made it blatantly clear how he felt for you and still held no inclination on your stance. That wasn’t true; if you had any affection, it would have been reciprocated. Sure, there was the flirtatious banter and the natural ease in each other’s presence, but twice he had laid it all on the line only to be met back with a block of ice. And that last one… Hell, it had been magical. Sparks flying, gravity-defying. But your response confused the hell out of him. He’d been misinterpreting signals and your friendship the entire time. And god, he was such an idiot. He practically forced it upon you. If you felt uncomfortable or violated, his reputation would be in shambles, as he knew it should be.

“It was fine.” He grumbled. There was no need to get into all this with Jared, for the fact alone he would gloat about being right for months on end.

Jared did not let his relief show. Maybe Jensen was finally coming back to his senses. He feigned empathy instead.

“Just fine?” He asked.

No, it wasn’t just fine; it was amazing. You were amazing, and perfect, and hilarious. And he fucked it up just like he predicted.

“Yeah,” Jensen responded curtly.

“So, no Y/N then?” Jared pressed, a little confused by Jensen’s abruptness. “I thought she’d be here.”

Yeah, you and me both, pal. “Nah, she knew we’d be busy all weekend and wanted to hike the mountains instead. I don’t blame her. I’d rather be doing that myself too.”

“Are you okay?” Jared persisted.

“Yeah.” Jensen squeaked. “Let me get cleaned up. Then we can scout out some dinner before the craziness starts.”

Jensen left Jared in the hotel lobby. Jared sighed, unsettled. Something was clearly bothering Jensen, but getting him to open up would be hard. All Jared knew is it was centered around you. Ultimately, if the road trip didn’t go as planned or wasn’t everything Jensen had dreamed up, it was for the best. Sure, Jensen was down now, and it hurt to see him this way, but hopefully, this would help him move on and snap out of these unrealistic fantasies.

Jensen didn’t sleep well that night. The mattress was too plush, the sheets too silky, and the space beside him was too cold. He’d been informed that a few videos of the kiss had been circling some fan accounts and to expect questions about it at the panels. Followed by a scolding lecture on how to respond. He knew the expected response but wondered what he would say if he hadn’t been coached. It didn’t settle right with him. Maybe he’d get up early and call you in the morning. Just rip the bandaid off and ask what you wanted him to say. He tossed and then tossed again—the sheets tangling around his calves. He reached for his phone, the light momentarily blinding him. His heart raced as he scrolled through Instagram. It was easy enough to find. Replaying it, he could still imagine your lips against his, the back of your neck in his grasp, the fabric of his shirt straining as you pulled against it. It was a very good kiss. That is when your text came through.

‘Thanks again for an amazing trip! If you’re looking for a buddy on your next road trip, let me know. And don’t worry, the ghosts here are all bark, though I can’t say the same for those in room 217.’

He didn’t think his heart could drop further, but it did. There was no second-guessing it this time. The word repeated in his mind. Buddy. He had officially and unequivocally been friend-zoned.

*** Sunday Afternoon ***

If AllTrails had been tracking your time, they would have sent you a medal for the record time in which you descended that mountain. Even paying no heed to the speed limit, you couldn’t make it to Denver until mid-afternoon. You called Jensen twice, hoping to explain that you were on your way and wanted to talk, hoping he could spare a few minutes of his day. If you held these pent-up emotions in your chest any longer, you would explode. On the third attempt, you hung up early, logically knowing he was predisposed.

“Come on, come on, come on,” You chanted through the city streets, the consistent string of red lights taunting you.

The wheels of the rental car screeched as you pulled into the parking lot with a little too much tenacity. Upon exiting, you backtracked, realizing you had left the vehicle running. You ran through the hotel lobby to the adjoining convention center. The hall was filled with fans and staff alike, all eagerly waiting for the next event. Booths were filled to the brim with Supernatural merchandise, shirts, photos, and trinkets. Cosplayers caught your eye, Castiels and a human version of Baby. It was overwhelming and distracting from your overall mission to find him.

You pulled open large double doors leading to the main ballroom.

“Ma’am.” Someone called, and it took you a moment to realize they were speaking to you. “Ma’am. You need a wristband to enter here.”

Security personnel dressed in black pants and a yellow shirt with a conspicuous earpiece halted your progress further into the room.

“A wristband?” You questioned.

“Yes, you have to check in outside. Exchange your ticket for a wristband.” They explained.

“I don’t have a ticket.”

“You’ll have to buy one to enter.” Their patience drawing thin, tired of a weekend of over-explaining processes.

“Okay,” You held up your hands in defense. “Okay, where can I buy one?” You started to back away, signaling you wouldn’t be a problem.

You followed the directions back through the hall’s entrance to a booth where two bored attendants scrolling through their phones sat. Most attendees had already checked in at this point.

“Hello,” You tentatively called them from their screens. “I’m here to see Jensen.”

The one with pink hair sighed. “You and everyone else, sweetheart.”

Their concentration broke from the phone, and puzzlement crossed their face. Only then did you realize what state you were in from the morning hike. Tangled hair, sweat-crusted clothes, dried dirt down your entire left side, and a series of angry red scrapes on your calve. But they quickly recomposed themselves. Apparently, it wasn’t the oddest thing they had encountered today.

They grumbled as if you should know the process. “Ticket?” They held out their hand for a paper stub or your phone.

“You see, I don’t have a ticket.” You gritted your teeth, knowing how the next bit would sound. “But Jensen and I are actually… friends. So maybe he left my name or something on a list so I could get in?”

Something between a scoff and a laugh escaped the second’s mouth, covered up by a following cough.

“There’s no list. Friend or not, you still need a ticket to get in.” They held firm.

“Right, totally understandable.” You attempted to present as sane as possible, realizing passersby were staring too long for your comfort. “May I purchase a ticket?”

“If you want to meet Jensen in person, photo ops are done for the day, but we have a few silver packages that include autographs.” They explained.

“Great, that sounds wonderful. How much?” You asked compliantly.

“750.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “You must be joking.” Even for romantic prospects, paying that absurd amount would take hell freezing over.

From their facial expression, they were not joking. “You could get general admission for 95, but that will only get you to the day's last panel, starting in about an hour.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A 100 dollars to hear them talk for what, forty minutes, an hour max?” Fucking ridiculous.

“You need a ticket.” They crossed their arms.

“Listen.” You pulled out your phone. “I literally drove the man here. I have the pictures. I think it will be okay if I go see him.”

You realized how much of a ‘Karen’ you were coming across as, but something inside you was starting to boil. The further you were being pushed away from him, the more you needed to fight.

The second attendant leaned into the collar of their polo, whispering. “We have a potential code gray.”

Fuck. You tucked your phone away. “You know what, it’s okay.” You slowly back away. “I’ll wait until it’s over. This is a big misunderstanding and does not need to get out of hand. I’ll talk to him tonight, and it will all be fine.”

You weren’t sure if you were trying to settle them or yourself, but you turned back down the hall and hastily walked out. Back in the hotel lobby, you weighed your options. You looked at your phone, and he still had not responded to the missed calls. Your stomach rumbled, and you smirked, knowing Jensen would tease you about not making the most rational decisions on an empty stomach. And you know what else? He’d encourage your spontaneity. Rather than wait in the lobby until the evening, you’d find another way in. There couldn’t be watching eyes everywhere. And once you did find him, he’d explain everything to whoever was being called in for code gray or whatever that meant.

Exiting the lobby, you circled the building and found a little courtyard where fans sat, chatted, and indulged in a quick meal. A hint of envy glossed over your eyes as you caught sight of an In-N-Out bag. You anticipated the doors to be locked, circumventing fans to use the one entrance, but they easily gave way. With feigned nonchalance, you went through another hall as if you belonged and knew exactly where you were going. Having quickly mapped the layout, you went around the ballroom to the back.

You were quickly met with a barricade of metal fences and high black curtains. An obvious sign to keep out and most likely where cast and crew could walk through unimpeded. You were close to out of ideas when an unmistakable figure in black jeans and a blue denim shirt walked past, followed by a posse.

“Jensen!” Your voice cracked.

It didn’t sound like your voice. It was higher and sharper. But through the sways of fabric, you saw him briefly hesitate. He was quickly ushered along.

“Oh, I think not.” You mumbled to yourself.

One leg was over the fence railing before your brain could comprehend your actions. Two shadows approached from behind the curtain as you straddled the cold metal. The crackling of their radio startled you, and you realized too late your mistake.

“Ma’am, we’ll need you to come with us.”

Double fuck. You ran for the exit back to the courtyard. Pausing once outside, you texted Jensen.

‘You remember that bucket list item I was talking about? Yeah, well, it might be much closer in the future than I anticipated.’

You tucked your phone away and continued your circle of the building. At this point, you were in too deep. You either had to leave the premise or find Jensen so he could bail you out. Well, fuck it. Unwittingly, he was the one to get you into this situation in the first place. He could get you out. You came across a stairwell entrance requiring a keycard for access. But gods, be blessed; whoever was watching you sent an answer. Someone came out for a cigarette break, and they even held the door for you as you stepped in.

You plotted the path in your mind, where you were positioned, and the direction he was headed. You took a left, scanning the area for any threat. A hall stemmed down to the right, and you saw more black curtains, but this time, you were successfully on the other side of them. You had to be close. A mischievous smile crossed your lips. This was fun. The adrenaline coursing through your system giving you a temporary high. Soon the Ocean Eight team would be knocking down your door, begging you to join their next heist.

Your false confidence shattered as you collided with the solid frame of a man. You looked up and up some more. His expression was far from pleased. A small, terrified giggle escaped your lips. As you turned, you found his double blocking your exit. Handcuffs came down upon your wrists, and you were escorted away.

Jensen sighed a breath of relief, making it to the holding room, where he joined Jared. He made it through photo ops; all that was left today was the panel and autographs. The panel earlier today for VIPs went better than expected too. The kiss never came up, and he was holding out hope that this next one would mirror it. Clif, his long-trusted security guard, closed the door behind them.

Jared had already gone through a pour of bourbon and was now cracking the seal of a Russel’s 13.

“Make mine a triple,” Jensen instructed.

Jared laughed. “That kind of day, huh?” And handed Jensen a generous double.

“I can almost see the finish line.” Jensen sniffed the top of the Glencairn and took a testing sip.

He prayed that the whiskey would loosen his nerves or, at the very least, get you off his mind. Logically, he knew you were in Estes Park but couldn’t stop thinking about you. It only worsened as the day progressed. In this last hour alone, he thought he glanced at you exiting the lobby and later heard you calling his name. He shook the feeling off as he took a bountiful swig. He smirked, knowing you’d call him out for not slowly savoring the whiskey’s intricacies, and he would retort with you being a snob. He poured himself another round, this time to take it more slowly. Jared scoffed and was about to condemn him when the Barrell Seagrass caught his eye.

The radio crackled, and a stern voice came through. “Tiny, we have a situation. Require your assistance.”

Clif, who was also about to help himself a pour, cursed under his breath upon hearing his codename. It had almost been a flawless con. He had jinxed himself by celebrating too soon.

Jared’s brow furrowed. “Everything alright?”

Clif grumbled. “It will be once I get there.” And exited the room.

Jensen was unconcerned and too focused on the palate of cherry and leather.

“What’s that about?” Jared chuckled.

“I find it better for my mental health not to dwell on the possibilities.” Jensen teased back.

He went to his phone charging on the gray console to check the time, wondering when he’d needed to start hyping himself back up. Immediately his brow furrowed upon seeing your three missed calls and your message. Bucket list? Bucket list? He had to think back. The alcohol already clouding his memory. His eyes popped. Immediately setting the glass down, he dialed your number. You didn’t answer. He dialed again. No answer. He resorted to texting.

‘For the love of god, pick up your damn phone.’

Followed by, ‘I swear to god if your ass is in jail, I’m not bailing you out.’ Though he fully would.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered. How was he supposed to get through the day now?

The holding room you were kept in was less of a room and more of a closet. The several monitors that observed the conference center’s layout indicated that you were not as stealthy as you had initially thought. One security guard sat across from you while the other stood behind them. Both of their arms crossed.

“Come on.” You reasoned. “One of you has to be the good cop and at least pretend to believe my story. At least offer me a coffee.”

“You think you are hilarious, don’t you?” The one seated said.

Deadpan, you said, “I think I’m adorable.”

They did not engage further, only held the stern expression.

“I’m not fucking crazy.” You would have gestured to the phone if your hands weren’t cuffed behind you. “You saw the pictures, the texts.”

“It’s amazing what Photoshop can do these days.” The one standing remarked.

“What about the video with the kiss?” You pressed.

They both scoffed. As you watched it with them, there was no clear angle of your face.

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

You rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw.

“Then bring him here, and he will vouch for me.” You demanded. “If he doesn’t, I will willingly walk away and accept whatever restraining order you see fit.”

There was a knock on the door, and your hope lifted. The one standing stepped out. Thus commenced a staring contest with the one across from you. As your phone rang, you lost.

“That’s him!” You exclaimed.

They didn’t move, still engaged in the staring contest. He let it ring to voicemail. Immediately it rang again.

“Goddammit! Answer the phone!” You demanded.

“Just because you named someone Jensen on your phone doesn’t mean it’s him.” He held his head high. “But then again, I’m fully aware there is no use rationalizing with a delusional person.”

Your breath became ragged and sharp. You were forming venom on your lips when the door opened, and the man you saw yesterday approaching Jensen appeared in the room. A couple of texts came through, but you couldn’t read them. The man took one look at you and sighed with disappointment.

“Let her go.” He instructed.

It was all you could do not to stick your tongue out in victory.

“Y/N, I thought you were supposed to be in Estes Park?” He said with an agitated tone.

The cuffs clicked as they released, and you rubbed your wrists.

“How do you know my name?”

You were equally concerned yet grateful this stranger was on your side.

“It’s my job to know.”

The other two whispered back and forth to each other.

“Speaking of jobs,” He remarked. “Why don’t you do yours and look for an actual threat?”

“Yes, boss.” They hung their heads and left you alone in the room.

“Let me guess,” You started. “Good cop?”

He chuckled. “No, not at all. The name’s Clif. I’m the head of Jared and Jensen’s security team. You caused quite the stir these past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” You agreed. “I may have gone a little off the deep end at the end there. Am I in trouble?”

“Only if Jensen wants to press charges.” You could tell he wasn’t joking. “Which I imagine he won’t. Not after a kiss like that.”

Your cheeks grew warm. “I’m here to talk about that with him, actually. To talk about that and a lot of other things. I know he’s busy, but…”

Clif checked the silver watch around his wrist. “He’ll be getting ready to go on stage in about 15 minutes. Something tells me you’ll need more time than that.”

You nodded in agreement though slightly disappointed.

“If you’d like to sit in, it might make the time go faster,” He continued. “I can grab you afterward. There’s a dinner break between the panel and autos. I think he would be agreeable to see you then.”

You held up your bare wrist. “I don’t think they’ll let me in.”

Clif chuckled and fished through his back pocket, producing a bright orange wristband.

Before you left with Clif, you found Jensen’s texts and shot him one back, hoping he would see it before he had to go on stage.

‘False alarm. I’ll explain later. Have a great panel.’

The conversation was already in full swing by the time you arrived. Clif was escorting you there when he commented on your leg. Now that the adrenaline and pain meds from earlier had worn off, the pain was catching up to you. He made a quick pit stop on your behalf, getting you some additional painkillers and water. He insisted on cleaning it up better, but you insisted harder you wanted to see the panel and that it could wait.

The door echoed as it shut behind you. Jensen’s head snapped in your direction, but from the lights blinding him and dimming the crowd, he could barely make out a figure. He continued the banter with Jared as they began taking questions left and right.

As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you scouted out empty seats, yet the throbbing in your hip protested. It had already been cramped on the drive down here and again in the security room. You opted instead to lean against the back wall. Their antics riled up a laugh in you, but you couldn’t help to notice Jensen was on edge. He was fidgeting more than usual, wringing the microphone with his hands, combing his fingers through his hair, twisting in the barstool. You couldn’t help but feel a slice of guilt knowing you had caused some of it.

A girl walked up through the crowd, and as she got closer, her face felt familiar. She leaned against the wall a few feet away from you.

“Oh, I remember you.” You said aloud. “We took pictures with you at the Colorado sign.”

She glanced out of her peripheral and then fully at you when the realization hit.

“Oh my god, yeah. You were with Jensen, right?” She confirmed.

“Yup, that’s me.” You followed her gaze over you and remembered how dirty you were and most likely smelled of sweat. “Sorry, I went hiking this morning but wanted to make the panel.” You explained.

“No, I didn’t mean to stare. Sorry.” She gulped. “It’s just, yesterday you said you were only friends, but then we saw you kiss outside the hotel, and, like, that was a kiss to end all kisses. You’re totally together now, right?”

You gulped and stared ahead.

She didn’t wait for an answer. “What was it like? Kissing him?”

You inhaled sharply, remembering his taste, his scent, the feeling of his strong fingers against your flesh, wondering where else his hands and lips might wander if you gave him the chance.

“That good, huh?” She concluded.

“Are you having a good time at the convention?” You asked, hoping to move on to other topics.

“Oh, absolutely, but the crowds,” She gestured outwards. “They get a little overwhelming at some points.”

You nodded understanding. “Y/N.” You introduced yourself and held out your hand.

“Casey.” She said and shook.

As if proving her point of crowds further, Jensen used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. The crowd went feral upon seeing a hint of skin.

“Stop it.” Jensen’s voice boomed over the system.

Then with a wave of his hand, he called for more praise which the crowd was more than happy to oblige. This went back and forth for at least three rounds. Jared and Jensen shared a private small conversation.

“Alright, alright, simmer down,” Jensen called. “We have more questions to answer.” When he finally drew command over the crowd, he turned to the girl on the right. “Hey, we ran into you at the border, didn’t we?”

The girl nervously chuckled, flabbergasted that he would remember.

“Oh, that’s my friend.” Casey pointed.

You were standing obviously next to flight, and based on the girl’s response, she must have been freeze.

Finally, she regained her composure and stumbled out of the question. “My question is for Jensen, and I’m a little shocked it hasn’t come up yet,” Jensen’s face dropped as she continued. “Since a lot of people saw you yesterday and the video of you kissing that girl has been circulating, I was wondering if you are officially off the market?”

Jared’s head whipped to Jensen. He held his microphone down as he hissed, “What kiss?”

Jensen gulped, realizing he had discussed it with Clif and his PR team but forgot to loop in Jared. Well, maybe purposefully forgot so as not to relive the humiliation. The crowd was so silent you could hear the air conditioning humming. Only the pounding of your heart was louder.

The lights seemed to grow brighter as the seconds ticked by. He raced through what his team had suggested and how he should respond. He breathed into the microphone, then paused as if halting a thought before it even started.

“It’s complicated,” Was all he said.

Jensen gave Jared a pleading look for aid.

Jared breathed in deeply, thinking he was going to save the situation. “I know every heart in this room just broke but don’t worry, everyone needs a good rebound, and Jensen was due for one, give it a few weeks.”

“No.” Jensen stopped him. “No, that’s not what this is at all. I…” His voice cracked, and he paused again. He was exhausted from being careful with his words, hiding shit, and painting a face that would create appeal. And so he decided to let it all go. He picked a loose thread in his jeans as he confessed to the world. “A few months ago, I met someone. And I was a complete ass, but she gave me a second chance anyways. She’s not just a rebound from Elena. She’s kind, and funny, and a smart ass, but most of all, she is real. And she sees me not as Jensen Ackles, but just as…”

“Dean Winchester?” Jared grumbled.

A few fans yelped, but most stayed respectful.

Jensen’s jaw tightened. “She sees me as I am.” He huffed. “I like her. Like, like her.” He said as if he was in middle school, and there was a collective aw in response from the audience. “I saw a future with her.”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Jared piped in.

“Calm down,” He snipped back. “Not wedding bells, two kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. Not yet, anyway. Just taking it a few months at a time. Having someone other than you to confide in, to care for and be cared for in return, someone I can laugh and cry with, someone to share adventures with, I don’t know…” He sighed, defeated, getting away from himself, feeling like he wasn’t making sense. He turned to Jared, “It’s not like you aren’t my best friend, but you have Gen. You have someone you can go home to, someone you can talk to when I’m annoying the hell out of you, someone you can be vulnerable with and don’t have to act around.”

Jared sighed.

“That doesn’t sound complicated.” The shy voice peeped up.

Jensen smiled mournfully, addressing the fan again. “The thing is, she doesn’t feel the same. I got friend-zoned. Hard. Which is okay. It is completely her right. And I mean, I’m a lot to deal with, so I get it. So it’s complicated because we have to figure out if we can stay friends now that I screwed us over with that kiss half of you witnessed.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It took a second for you to process it all.

“This is utter bullshit.” You gasped, Casey taking it all in, though you had completely tuned out the rest of the world as if you were talking directly to him. “Friend-zoned, how did I friend-zone you? Maybe, and here’s a thought: if you had the ability to confess your feelings to me with as much ease as to hundreds of people, I could have told you I felt the same. But you just kissed me, and I panicked because I didn’t know what you wanted, and I thought I wanted more than you. Because I do see you as you are, but I acknowledge that you are still Jensen Ackles, and I’m still a crazy little fan that shouldn’t even know you in the first place. It’s not either, or, asshat; it can be both. I’ve been waiting for your lead this whole time. And now that I’m here, you are telling everyone it’s over before we even had a chance. Fuck!”

Although it was a rageful whisper, Casey heard everything and ferociously typed away on her phone.

Before Jared tried again to regain control of the situation, Casey’s friend jumped back on the mic. “Y/N says that if Jensen had confessed his feelings to her in the first place with as much ease as he can in front of thousands of fans, she wouldn’t have accidentally friend-zoned him.”

Jensen stood abruptly. “Y/N’s here?”

Panic rose again, seeing heads turn, looking for an imposter in the crowd.

The girl continued. “She says she was waiting for him to decide if he wanted to take the relationship to the next level, probably because she’s just a fan like us, and well, fuck, he’s Jensen Ackles. And I’m looking at her right now, and she is head over heels. Well, okay, she’s a little furious, but if Jensen wants her to have his babies, she would totally have his babies. Girl, we have to help her lock that man down…”

Again, silence in the room.

“What did you do?” Your eyes were wide.

Casey kept typing, ignoring your panic. “Trust me.”

You felt eyes on you and slid down the wall in mortal dread.

“Sorry,” The friend at the mic said. “Those were texts from my friend. I probably shouldn’t have read every single one.”

Crickets.

“Y/N’s here?” Jensen asked again.

“Yeah,” The girl looked through the crowd and pointed. Thankfully, it redirected some of the gaze to the back. “She must be sitting with my friend over there somewhere.”

Jared stood, but Jensen waved him away. “How do I know it’s really Y/N, and you're not making this up?” He asked skeptically.

Casey looked down at you as you were hiding your face between your palms. She nudged you with her foot.

The girl’s voice sounded throughout the ballroom. “I spy something yellow, clouds or mountains, the nasty-ass ball pit, Neil Diamond, or Bate’s Motel; any one of those should do.”

Jensen snickered and shook his head back and forth. “God dammit, Y/N. Do you want to try and make this work? Be more than friends?” He was still searching the crowd but couldn’t find you.

“Sign an NDA,” Jared sarcastically commented, believing Jensen’s previous analysis of your commitment to privacy was shockingly misguided.

“She says you can ask her face-to-face on a proper date.” Some of the crowd chuckled; others held a sadness that the window of his singleness was closing.

“I didn’t say that.” You snipped at Casey.

“We can’t make you seem too eager. Not after that baby comment.” She retorted.

Jensen chuckled again. “How does ten tonight sound? You pick the place.”

From a distance, he could see the door in the back crack open, light flooding the darkness momentarily, and he knew it was you. A small smirk escaped his lips.

The friend at the microphone continued to telephone Casey’s messages. “She left, I think, 'cause I embarrassed her and exaggerated certain details. But if I didn’t completely mortify her, I say it’s safe to change your relationship status.”

From the main lobby, you could hear the cheers and applause. This was not how you expected the day to go, especially almost getting arrested and working things out with Jensen over a panel. There was the sound of heavy footsteps and keys jingling as Clif rounded a corner.

“You keep making my job more and more interesting.” He jokingly scolded. “Come on,” He gestured with a nod of his head. “Let’s get you out of here before the panel ends, and people put two-and-two together.”

You stepped in line. “Let me make the record clear that Jensen was the one to kiss me and could have been more tactful in answering that question. I will only take the blame for momentarily losing it and breaking a few convention policies that may or may not be criminal offenses. I don’t know how this stuff works.”

He turned to look back at you and wiggled his eyebrows as if keeping you privy to a secret. “Something tells me I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.”

“Not when you should have both eyes on Jensen.” You teased back.

He laughed as you continued down the hall, and he parted a black curtain for you. “Oh, I like you.”

He led you to the holding room. It was nearly as messy as a frat house after a championship victory. Bottles of whiskey lined a TV stand, jackets and sweatshirts were strewn about, devices of all kinds were plugged into outlets, and piles of eaten and unopened food sat everywhere. You found a clear spot on the couch, and exhaustion finally hit you. Exhaustion from traveling non-stop, to restless nights, to hiking earlier this morning, to internally debating everything that was happening. You leaned your head back and shut your eyes.

The temporary relief was short-lived as the click of the door opening jolted you from the micro-nap. You stood up as Jensen and Jared entered the room. They looked equally exhausted but somehow maintained their brightness and energy. Jensen’s face glowed upon seeing you.

“Y/N!” Jensen exclaimed.

“Hi.” You greeted sheepishly.

He bounded over to you and took your cheeks in his hands, pressing his lips against yours. Jared went for another round of whiskey.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He pulled away and looked you over. “What the hell happened?”

You didn’t know where to begin. “I met a park ranger.” You said, accompanied by something between a laugh and a huff.

Jensen took in your scrapped-up leg, and his face grew stern. “Are you okay? We should get a doctor to come look you over.”

“I’m fine,” You promised. “The ranger did a thorough examination and knocked some sense into me. I should be back to normal in a couple of days.”

“Was he cute?” He asked.

You grinned. “Very.”

He pinched his lips together in a smile. “Well, then I better up the antics for our date tonight and really try and impress you.”

“Oh my god,” You giggled. “I never said any of that!” He gave you a questioning glance. “To be fair, not most of it.”

“So, no babies then?” He teased, and your cheeks turned ten shades darker. “Hey Jared, it’s time I officially introduce you; this is Y/N. Y/N, Jared.”

“Pleasure,” Jared stated coldly.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” You offered.

“Hey, we should order some food before autographs.” Jared bypassed you and spoke directly to Jensen.

“Yeah,” Jensen agreed. “I’m starving. You want anything?” He asked you.

You shook your head no. “What I need is a shower and clean clothes.”

Jensen smiled and dug through his wallet, fetching out a key card. “Room 912. If you need anything, text Clif. I’ll send you his number.” He handed it to you. “See you later tonight? Then maybe we will have the chance to talk about all this.”

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, accepting the key and trying not to get ahead by wondering if you would be sharing a room tonight.

Starting a relationship with him required a plan, including expectations and boundaries. As much as you wanted to rush into things, taking it slow was for the best. Waiting for him to finish autographs would give you time to make a list and develop some questions on what a relationship with him would entail beyond the normal stuff. This wouldn’t be as easy as it seemed, but you trusted he would be there to guide you. Before parting, he placed another peck on your lips, leaving you craving more.

Part 8

---

GHTTC Tags: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @ghostofjoharvelle

[iantimony]

hello tuesdaypost

this one is special because my partner and i hit fourth base in our relationship (swapped tumblr accounts)

listening: more just king things...a lot of fleetwood mac (mainly the chain on loop) for some reason...some crane wives...some ambient instrumental stuff...

reading: didn't <3 oh i read a locked tomb fanfic actually, it's nsfw heads up, but very feel good fluffy, i have zero hope that the actual series will have such a happy ending but who knows

watching: started the history of the world part ii, it's very funny, very in spirit with the original but updated for the times, the opening shot of mel brooks' head edited onto like, arnold schwarzenegger or something had me cackling. i'm about halfway through i think, the curb your enthusiasm sketch was very funny, so is all the kublai khan stuff, will hopefully finish it this weekend or something? remains to be seen.

and on sunday a friend came over and he + me + roommate watched the first half of season 2 of vox machina! it's cute. i like it generally. i wish i had the attention span for critical role in general lmao but as it is, friends at the table still has my whole heart

making: fallow </3 i'm working on a secret project (that now has to be secret because i've swapped tumblrs with my SO) but ive unravelled it....again..........does anyone have advice on intarsia knitting with many balls to keep it from getting tangled. i've been trying the clockwise/counterclockwise thing that this article talks about but i feel like im definitely goofing something up on it idk.

misc: was a little ill at the end of last week that i think was just exhaustion? i'm really not getting enough sleep. eugh. anyways.

got a free plant today from the grad student center...flexing my Good Office Privilege by keeping him on my windowsill....lil succulent...send name suggestions

[ifyoulovemeletmebinge]

We’re All Monsters

destiel au where everything in canon is used at the wrong time and oh also cas is a monster. 

for @beingforcedtolivebadwriting

RATED M 

read it on ao3 here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Dean Winchester knows he hates monsters.

That’s one thing. It’s almost the first thing. In almost every situation.

Dean wakes up and all he can think of is how much he hates monsters.

Some of it comes from the fact that John is a shitty dad and that’s not because of him being a shitty dad. Dean can’t remember much at all from his life before the fire, but from what John tells him, they were The Perfect American Family. He knows that at least.

He also knows that because monsters fucked that dynamic up for his family, he hates them unconditionally.

None of that has been truer than how he feels tonight. Tonight, his hands are still shifty on the wheel of the Impala, tonight his feet are still struggling to reach the brake pedal without stretching, and tonight the sky is pitch black and the air is warm and humid, and tonight he’s gonna kill some monsters.

Well. Maybe not.

John’s instructions were to stop by (by which he means break in) the morgue, take an extra look at the bodies, and identify any marks that stand out for a tell of what kind of son of a bitch they were dealing with.

John usually does this himself, but Dean thought it best to not bring up the fact that his dad needs to drink himself to blissful unconsciousness on the week of the anniversary of his dead wife. The case was bad timing, thus, Dean is the lucky pick to do the dirty work.

Not that he minds. This is something he wants to do. This is something he craves. Dean has been getting taller and bigger and stronger, and his hands have been itching more, and he can’t stop shifting his weight, and lately he feels like doing something that will fully transition him into the man he’s supposed to be. Except all he knows is John, and John is a hunter.

But Dean doesn’t mind. He’s good with a gun, and he’s a quick runner (he would have joined the track team if John had let them stay past Christmas break at his last school), and if that’s all he’s got, he’ll use it to do something. He’ll figure it out.

He’d way prefer to risk himself getting arrested, and going to juvie (again), than Sammy. Sammy, who’s back at the motel. Sammy who’s hopefully, peacefully sleeping. Sammy, who he hopes won’t be awake to see John come back from the bar. Dean intends to make it back before that. It’s only 11pm. He’s got time.

Dean parks the Impala (he only struggles for a few seconds with it, alright) a couple blocks down from the police station. His shoulders crowd up around his ears, cotton of his sweatshirt brushing his jaw, as he walks, as silent as he can, between the shadows of the decorative trees in this stupid suburb, to the back of the station.

He’s already scouted the place earlier in the day, so he knows which window leads to the desired formaldehyde smelling room. The station is only one story high, so he’s easily able to unlatch the outside lock with his pocket knife, and heave himself up. He shimmies himself in (fuck, that window’s tight) and ends up doing a supported handstand on the morgue floor. He throws his legs to the side--only hurting his ankles a little on the edge of the window--and then he’s finally got both his feet on the ground.

Dean stands up from his crouch, slowly. Then he scoffs to himself. Who the fuck is gonna hear him in here?

He moves closer to where the target is. There’s a sleek metal table in front of him, and yes, there’s a dead person on it, covered by a thin white sheet. Dean searches for gloves in the dark, because he’s a teenage boy but he’s not that gross, and he snaps them on, pulling back the sheet and averting his eyes from the corpse’s face. He goes straight to where the money is.

At the junction between the corpse’s shoulder and jaw, right in the middle of the neck, there’s a big bite. It’s not anything his dad has seen before, as he kept complaining so much since they found the case, and Dean has to swallow back bile at how ugly it looks. Black and protruded, half scaly-like, half-raw ripped skin, at least under the moonlight coming from the window. He should have brought a flashlight.

Dean is cataloging the patterns to draw for his dad later, tracing his fingers over the lines carefully, really feeling the texture and the way it’s swollen the skin. He thinks he imagines the sound at first.

Then he stops his hand, and he thinks again.

That’s definitely a sound. Like a real movement that wasn’t him, and it’s coming—it came at least—from the room right next door, the main storage for the other bodies. Dean turns his head to look at the door, and oh, would you look at that, it’s peeking open to more darkness on the other side. Where the sound came from. Except how is there a sound at a morgue in the dead of night?

Dean was not prepared for this. His heartbeat starts announcing itself in his ears, and he’s almost vibrating with fear. He thinks of his dad. What would John do at a time like this? Probably start shooting.

But Dean didn’t have a gun. Even if he did, it could just be the doctor, or a policeman staying after (they always got in his way), and he can’t go around shooting random people. It’s hard to explain to a dead person: “Hey! Sorry! Thought you were a monster! My bad!”

Then he remembers his pocket knife, whips it out, and holds it tight in his right fist. Dean starts walking towards the door, but he wants to knock the whole wall down and skeet the fuck out of there.

He holds his breath as he gently kicks the door with the tip of his boot (he figured out a way to make Sam convince John to get him new ones, and yeah, these loggers are pretty fucking cool), and then he’s in the room.

The first thing he notices when his eyes adjust to how dark it is in there (honestly, would it kill a monster to turn on a light?), is the two figures bent over what he assumes is another poor corpse being taken advantage of. He also hears… ew. Those are chomping and chewing noises. He never gets the clean ones.

Dean doesn’t know what to do! Does he shout? Scare them? Lunge at them? Anything he does next could be the last thing he does. Is he ready to die?

Luckily, Dean doesn’t have to decide his first move because the figures do it for him.

It happens too fast—and maybe he’s reading too many comics because his first thought is I wish I had super speed like Barry so I could gank these fuckers, except he doesn’t, so it’s fast.

He’s on his back in a blink. There’s a bony arm on his neck and another holding one of his wrists in a grip so tight Dean wants to make a eulogy for his circulation. There’s also a normal-ish weight on his hips and his stomach, which suddenly lurches because fuck. Fuck. The monster’s on him, he’s pinned. And for some reason he’s still alive.

Still. Fuck.

After a moment of heaving breathing from the guy on top of him, the figure lurking around, and his own wheezing lungs, Dean grunts out: “You guys gonna eat me or what?”

The guy above him doesn’t let up, but Dean does feel the other one walking around. Like the ground shakes with his every step as he comes closer to Dean’s ears near the floor.

“Personally,” says Figure 2 from way above him, and Dean feels disoriented at how far away his voice sounds, “I’m fairly content. My son here, however… well, he’s just famished.”

Dean’s eyes flick to the guy on him, trying to make out his features but it’s just too dark, and all he can feel is the terribly tight grip on his wrist, the way his forearm is crushing on his neck, and—hey. His pocket knife is still in his hand. His free hand, the one trapped under the small of his back, where he can feel the butt of the handle digging into his skin slightly.

“Go on, son.”

Figure 1, aka The Son, seems to be hesitating, and Dean doesn’t want to wait till he decides if he wants more salt on him or not before the meal, so he wriggles his hand out, and drives it across his body and downwards in a surprisingly strong stroke. He knows he hit something when the arms on top of him lift up entirely, and there’s a pained groan resounding amid the darkness.

He rolls on his side, scrambles up, and flies out of the room, back into the main morgue lab, through the door, down and down the long hallway, past the reception desk, and he’s out the main entrance, not caring one bit about the obnoxious ringing of the alarm behind him.

His calves are burning by the time he throws himself in the Impala, and he clumsily fishes out his dad’s keys, turning the car on. He drives 50 above the speed limit until he gets to the motel.

Dean tells John everything. He draws what he remembers with shaky hands. He neglects to mention how many of them there were.

<15 years later>

“And then, like a fucking Clint Eastwood movie, he comes back home--”

“You mean the motel?” Sam interrupts.

“Yeah, whatever. So he barges in the door--” Dean frames a rectangle with his hands “--silhouetted by the moonlight, and he tucks his gun in and he swings his dirty machete over his shoulder and he tilts his head and then he says: ‘Boy, pack your stuff. Our job here is done.’ I mean… it was fucking awesome,” Dean chuckles.

“I think your memory is unreliable.”

“Sam, you were dead to the world that night. On my bed, might I add, so you didn’t even see any of this. John kicked ass!”

Eileen’s smile is a little forced, and a little awkward, but Dean can’t blame her. His energy is hard to match when he’s a few beers in. Sam keeps eyeing her, like he's checking in on how she’s receiving this story about their dad. Like she would ever judge him for it.

“He sounds like a brave hunter,” she signs and says. Dean feels way too proud.

Sam tries and fails to keep the grimace off his face. “Yeah. Babe, is it late? We should…” he trails off, tilting his head in the direction of their bedrooms. Eileen nods in agreement, seeming relieved. She squeezes Dean’s hands as she leaves. Sam is standing now, and he waits until Eileen is gone to turn his bitchface on.

“Dean, please stop doing that.”

Dean furrows his eyebrows. “Doing what?”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “Praising dad. I don’t know, sugarcoating him, painting him as the hero. You know damn well he wasn’t.”

Dean’s throat tightens. If that’s what Sam thinks he was doing, he really doesn’t know him at all. He's full of indignation when he answers: “That’s the last thing that I would do. I know firsthand, more than you, how shitty John was. Sam, I know. I was telling the story how I remembered it. ‘Cause back then? Yeah, he was my hero. I’m old enough to know better now, but--what the fuck do you care? You think I’m purposely lying to Eileen? For what?”

Sam can’t meet his eyes. “Dean, no that’s not what I-I just can’t hear that shit. It makes me… uncomfortable. I don’t wanna talk about dad like that anymore. I'd rather not talk about him at all, actually! I just… I can’t hear that shit from you.”

Dean balks, mouth open. He scoffs, “Fine.” He stands up and puts his jacket back on, checking his pockets for his keys and his wallet.

He’s halfway up the stairs when Sam calls from the library, “Dean, come on. Let’s talk about this. Or not! Dude, we just got back from a hunt, don’t leave. Let just-let’s forget about it, alright?”

Dean pauses at the railing. He turns around and shouts down at Sam: “Yeah, sure, Sammy! Let's forget our whole heritage. It never fucking mattered to you anyways.”

He’s slamming the door to the bunker closed behind him, and hopping in the Impala (which he didn’t have time to wash or put in the garage since their hunt), and then he’s off god knows where. He needs a drink.

Dean picks the fourth bar/restaurant place he sees. That seems like far enough away from his brother for now. It’s one he hasn’t gone to yet. Fun, new, and exciting!

He’s working on his third whiskey, maybe half an hour after he arrived, when the bartender puts down another glass in front of him.

Dean glances up. “Hey, um. I’m good for now, really.”

The bartender is tying his long cornrows in a ponytail on the back of his head, and when he meets Dean’s eyes, he gives him a shit-eating grin. He nods off to the side, “Courtesy of your secret admirer.” Then he winks at him and leaves for the kitchen behind him. Dean feels all warm inside at that, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it before a man sits down on the stool next to him, a non-respectable four inch distance away.

Dean is appalled before he takes in this dude, and okay. Not bad. Looks about the same age, dresses like a grandpa from the trenchcoat he sees, has spiky black hair that Dean might want to run his hands through, and shit, fuck, he’s looking at Dean, say something!

“Hello,” the man says and whoa, who died and made you Batman? His lips are plumper than a guy’s lips usually are (look who’s talking, Dean) and chapped and they’ve got a nice shape. Dean likes the cupid’s arch on his upper lip, it looks classy. His nose is pointy, and maybe a bit small, but damn if it doesn’t work well with his sharp cheekbones. By the time Dean can register his eyes, all his brain can think of is wow.

Dean’s never seen bluer eyes. They’re as clear as the sky, but Dean feels like he could drown in them. Or maybe that’s just the way this man is looking at him. Dean’s rarely been stared at with this much intensity, and he feels a blush spread to the tips of his hot ears.

He clears his throat. “Hi.” Dean has to look away now, back to his own glass before he combusts. He’s surprised a dude like him would buy him a drink.

Apparently, the man can’t sense how awkward and unprepared Dean was for this because he starts talking again, keeping his voice low so that only Dean can hear him, so it’s only a rumble in his chest. “I hope I’m not overstepping. You looked like you needed some company. Is that the kind you like to drink?”

Dean is so flustered at the sheer… whatever this dude has, he has to remind himself this is a normal human interaction. Be nice. Make eye contact.

“Yeah, it’s uh--it’s great. Thanks. For buying it. Um, I’m kinda driving tonight, though, so I might want to stop at this--” Dean raises his own drink in his hand “--You can-you want it? I'd be a waste otherwise.” He’s cringing so bad inside that his stomach hurts.

The man levels him a neutral stare. A few seconds later, he nods and reaches over to pick up the extra whiskey. Dean follows his hands and fuck they’re nice. He’s got long fingers, and for some reason the way his metacarpals shift under his skin is incredibly attractive.

The fun doesn’t stop there though, because then the guy is bringing the glass to his mouth, and he’s not taking his eyes off Dean’s own wide ones, and he’s taking a drink and it all looks sinful. The way his trachea shifts as he swallows, the opening and closing of his enticing jaw, and especially the way his pink tongue peeks out from his mouth to lick at the rim of the glass.

Dean swallows what feels like sandpaper.

“My name is Castiel,” he says, putting the glass down, holding it between his hands like he's bracketing it. He shifts his hands and the glass follows, rotating back and forth.

“Dean.”

Castiel nods, his lips quirk up a little, and this might be the first sort-of smile Dean has seen from him.

“Why’d you buy me a drink?” he blurts out.

The grin grows by a millimeter. “You looked like you needed one.”

Dean snorts. “That bad, huh?”

“Maybe that good.” Dean sees a peek of teeth from Castiel and he can’t help but shiver.

Dean recognizes it for what it is, so he turns on his own charm, slipping into familiar flirting territory.

“So what do you do, Castiel?”

Castiel’s eyes flick to Dean’s mouth for the quickest moment, and then his mouth is a neutral plane again, smirk vanishing completely. He thinks for a few seconds. “I’m an accountant.”

Dean knows that could mean literally anything, except the guy is wearing a tie and there’s a trenchcoat, so yeah. He’s an accountant for real.

“Cool. Numbers, huh?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, like he’s squinting. Dean finds it both intimidating and endearing. “Yes. How about you, Dean?”

He blushes harder at hearing his name in that gravelly voice, but keeps his cool when he answers, rehearsed: “Odd jobs, here and there.”

Castiel doesn’t miss a beat. “Fascinating.”

Dean blinks. Okay. “Is it?”

“Yes. You must travel a lot.”

“I do, yeah,” he nods, feeling a little vulnerable.

Castiel is back to staring at him intensely, and it makes Dean’s veins sizzle a little with want. They’re upgrading from Flirting/Small Talk Territory to Let’s Go Like Now Territory. Dean’s breathing comes a little deeper.

“Would you like to travel right now?”

“What?”

Castiel is definitely looking at his mouth. “Would you like to go outside?”

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. This guy does not waste time. Not that he’s complaining, he’s been feeling hot all over since Castiel sat down, and he’d give himself at most another half an hour before he proposed they move this interaction somewhere else himself. So Dean downs the rest of his whiskey, feels the buzz in his ears and the tips of his fingers, and he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Castiel follows him outside.

The night is more humid than it should be for August, but Dean can feel the chill of Fall coming, and he’s grateful for his jacket. He’s shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he walks to the corner where the sidewall of the bar meets the front wall of it. He stops and leans one shoulder right at the edge of the wall to the side, facing the parking lot. Out of options for what to say, Dean waits until Castiel comes closer (his hands are in his trench coat pockets and it’s weirdly cute), and he points at his Baby, thirty feet away.

“That’s my car. She’s my Baby.”

Castiel stops two feet away from him, but right in front, and he turns his body to the side to follow where Dean’s finger points. He stares at the Impala for a bit, before he turns his head to Dean again. The light coming from inside the restaurant is what brightens Castiel’s face and Dean is a little breathless as he admires his illuminated features.

“She’s very beautiful.”

Dean smiles, proud and sheepish. “Thanks. Um, what about yours?”

Castiel inhales, taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t drive here tonight. I like walking.” he says slowly.

“Oh, okay.” Dean answers stupidly. It’s not that he’s disappointed they can’t talk about cars, it’s just… what else are they supposed to talk about at a moment like this?

“So what brought you here tonight, Cas?” Dean doesn’t catch himself in time, and the nickname is out. Oops. Castiel seems to inflate a little in response though, so he’s fine. For now.

“Rough day.” He says, then like an afterthought he adds, “At work.”

This dude is so fucking weird. Dean is obsessed with him.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, he just wants to take what Castiel offered. He’s been wanting to taste him since he looked at his lips, so he smirks at Castiel and he asks, “Come here, Cas.”

For a moment Castiel tilts his head, and Dean can’t figure him out, and he kinda loves that, the anticipation of not knowing what this guy is gonna do or who he is. Dean beckons him with a hand. He’s drunk enough on the beers from earlier and the whiskey and the adrenaline drop from the finished hunt that he’s allowing himself this tonight. A little recklessness can’t hurt.

Castiel walks closer than Dean expected him to, and Dean turns to press his back to the side wall, his shoulder barely off the edge where the front and side connect. Castiel follows the twist of his body perfectly because suddenly he’s crowding Dean against the small space with his hands on either side of his head on the wall. Their faces are mere inches apart.

Dean loves the way the air shifts then, like someone pulled a lever down and the current of electricity started running. They’re breathing each other’s air, and Castiel’s eyes are glued to Dean’s mouth, while Dean alternates his staring between Castiel’s darkened eyes and those chapped lips. Dean feels like he's vibrating.

He forces his hands to unfreeze and brush the trench coat flaps aside, coming to rest on top of Castiel’s hips, over his belt. This moves their bodies closer still, Dean subconsciously opening his legs wider to let Castiel slot a knee in between them. Their hips press, Dean shivers, and then he shivers even more when he feels Castiel’s lips pressing against his.

It’s exactly like he imagined, except it’s about a thousand times better. Castiel’s lips are soft and pliant, and he presses brushing kisses and pecks Dean’s lips for a bit, leaving them tingling for more, until he starts to really get into it. Castiel softly clamps his mouth around Dean’s bottom lip and he pulls back, and Dean is so fucked. He tries to keep his knees from wobbling, and then he gets what he wants when Castiel presses forward again, kissing him open mouthed, and there is his tongue, and it tastes really sweet and Dean feels positively intoxicated.

He can’t remember when he closed his eyes, but there are fireworks exploding behind them, and his dick is saying “Hell, yeah!” and he’s tilting his head to kiss Castiel deeper, chasing more of his mouth and his taste and his smell. His hands are gripping Castiel’s hips in a vice.

Dean can’t help the moan he lets out when Castiel’s tongue does a thing, and he also can’t help his surprise when Castiel pulls back abruptly after the sound has registered. His shock is almost overshadowed by the crude things his brain is thinking when he takes in Castiel, whose lips are shiny and wet, and whose pupils are enormous.

Dean holds his breath, furrows his eyebrows, and waits. Castiel is looking at him, pained.

“Dean, I can’t,” he whispers.

There is a moment, and then Dean blinks, understanding everything. He’s a little upset, but mostly embarrassed, except his brain can’t fully express that, so it’s put through a well-oiled machine that converts it into anger. Now, that he can do.

He’s pushing Castiel off him, walking five steps away then pivoting and walking back. He repeats this path, running a hand down his face as Castiel just fucking stands there, looking at him sadly.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean bites out.

“Dean, I can-” Casties tries.

“No, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whirls around to stare right at Castiel a few feet away. Castiel’s shoulders fall and it enrages Dean even more.

“You know what, Cas? Go fuck yourself. You got some issues to figure out, and it’s not gonna be with me. Go to hell, asshole.” Dean spits out, fixing Castiel with a furious stare, feeling his jaw tick in anger, and then he’s stomping away.

As he gets closer to the Impala, he crosses his arms, feeling indignation constrict his chest. This is not the first time this has happened with Dean and unfortunately, he thinks it probably won’t be the last.

Damn it. A guy like that? Probably has a pretty little wife, probably hides his wedding band right in his front pocket, which Dean completely skipped on his way to grab at Castiel’s ass. He groans internally as he rounds the back of the car till he reaches the driver’s door. He’s going home with the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He hears as he fishes out his keys and puts the right one in the slot to unlock the door, and hey, Castiel’s voice is much closer than he expected, but Dean doesn’t have time to turn around and yell at him some more because suddenly the ground is completely gone from under his feet. Dean’s vision goes blinding white, and then pitch black.

The pain finally registers on the back of his head, and the last thing he sees before he's out, is the key chain dangling from the lock on the Impala’s door.

****

The world slowly slots back together as Dean wakes up. There’s four, then three, then two, and then it all merges into one again. Dean acutely feels the pouding in his head.

He’s… laying down? Yeah, he’s on a bed. The mattress is nice. There's even a thin blanket on top of him, dark grey. He turns his head to the side-nope, that’s a wall-tries the other side and okay good, there’s the rest of the room. He feels a little less claustrophobic now that he’s seen the whole space. It’s dark just because the lights are off. It looks like a normal basement, unfinished ceiling and all, with boxes stacked in the corner covering a whole wall. There’s a couch facing him, parallel to the bed, and there’s a figure sitting there. Dean eyes his phone, wallet, car keys, and pocket knife on a night stand next to the bed. It’s just out of his reach.

He pinches his eyes shut, wiggles his toes in his boots (no brain damage done, yay), and then he groans out: “What can I do for ya, Mr. Monster?”

When he opens his eyes, Castiel has turned one of the overhead light bulbs on. He looks serious.

“Firstly, I want to apologize, Dean. I didn’t want to have to do this, and I didn’t plan for it.”

Dean is more than confused. “What.”

Castiel stands up from his couch, he’s only in his suit now, tie loosened, and damn Dean’s stupid (probably concussed) brain, but he still looks yummy. Monster, Dean. Focus.

Castiel crosses his arms, and plants his feet. He keeps a very respectable distance away from the bed, and Dean’s gut twists at the thought that he was playing him all along.

“I didn’t… want to seduce you. I just wanted to talk. I might have derailed from my plan slightly.”

Dean’s jaw ticks. “And what was that amazing plan of yours, Castiel? If that’s your real name.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean’s tone. He huffs a breath out his nose, frowning.

“You know, Dean, you may not remember me, but I remember you. Fifteen years ago, your father killed my father, and I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breaths out after a few seconds of stunned silence, propping himself up to fully sit up on the bed. He feels his bruised brain click things together. “You’re the second one. You survived.”

Castiel is silent, and that’s all the confirmation Dean needs to know he was pinned down by this guy way before tonight.

Dean laughs. “What kind of fucked up revenge plot is this? You’ve been stalking me for years? Well, then you must know my father died of alcohol poisoning almost a decade ago. It was ugly and painful, and you missed your chance, asshole.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says sternly, “I didn’t want to kill your father. And I don’t want to kill you. That’s not why I ended up kidnapping you tonight. I’m grateful for what your father did for me.”

Dean does a double take, swings his feet off the bed and onto the ground. “You’re what?”

“This may come as a surprise, but not every monster is a monster. Not fully, anyway. I’m half-human. And I need your help to go all the way.”

[pjowhoa]

.

[angelasscribbles]

Bad Romance Continues: A Collection of One Shots, Drabbles and Mini Series

Bad Romance the series is marked as complete, but the one shots and miniseries seem to be never ending. So I thought they needed their own master list. New chapters will be placed in order they occurred in the timeline, not order they were written.

To read the original series click here: Bad Romance

For all my other stuff click here: Main Master List

Before the events of Bad Romance:

Beginnings: A Max and Riley story. Beginning of the social season with a flashback to the night they met. Takes place before the events in Bad Romance. Features Liam. 🍋🍋🍋

First Impressions, Max: This is Max's POV from the same night Riley remembers in Beginnings, the night they met. Six months prior to the events of Bad Romance, in New York. 🍋🍋🍋

Crush: It's Riley's first month in Cordonia. The guys vie for her attention.

Concurrent with the events of Bad Romance:

Siobhan: Riley seduces the palace kitchen supervisor and uses her against Liam. Takes place at some point prior to chapter 6, "Busted".🍋🍋🍋

Solace: A Liam and Max story. Their first sexual encounter with each other without Riley present. Concurrent with Chapter 26, "An Audacious Proposal". 🍋🍋🍋

The King's Punishment: A Three Shot. Completely gratuitous sex to be honest, but there is an emotional pay off at the end. Takes place before Chapter 29, Valtoria. 🍋🍋🍋

After the end of Bad Romance:

Birthday Spanking: Riley delivers a little something extra for Max's birthday. 🍋🍋🍋

United Front: What happens when an old flame shows up claiming Drake is the father of her child? A Drabble Me This Story.

Coming to Terms: Liam and Drake work together to get Bradshaw to open the palace doors.

Progress: Takes place just after Ellie's birth.

Max's Room: Written for Maxwell Beaumont Appreciation Week 2023. Riley helps Max clean out his junk room at Ramsford.

Homerun: Roughly nine months after the events in Progress. Ellie would be around eleven months old. 🍋🍋🍋

Thro(n)es of Passion: The follow up to Homerun. Takes place later that night when Liam, Max, and Drake comply with Riley's request for a foursome. 🍋🍋🍋

Thro(n)es of Passion Part 2: Riley's request is granted.

Dreams: Riley makes one of Max's dreams come true.

Unlikely Alliances Part 1: Three years after the end of Bad Romance. Ellie is two and still an only child. Liam's indiscretions come to light in a contrived way. Who is out to sabotage the king? 🍋🍋🍋

Unlikely Alliances Part 2 (Closure): Drake travels to New York to uncover the saboteur.

Interview: Madeleine tries to prep Riley and Liam for an interview with the press. They keep getting side tracked.

Run Away: Riley is having a hell of a week. Rashad wants her to take a break and run away with him.

San Antonio: A Drake and Riley story. Precise placement in the timeline is ambiguous. I don't even know. 🍋🍋🍋

Disney Adventure: A six chapter miniseries. The gang gets stuck in LA and decided to take an ill advised trip to Disneyland. Nine years after the end of Bad Romance. Ellie is 8, Xander 5, Jax 2 and Riley is pregnant with Jace.

Wild Ride: Disney Adventure follow-up, so technically is before the events of Bad Romance, but I felt it belonged here since Disney Adventure spawned it. Here is the beginning of Leo's weekend with Riley. 🍋🍋🍋

Drake's Amazon Cart: A hopefully funny little drabble about what's in Drake Walker's amazon cart. Placement in timeline is ambiguous but Jax is at least old enough to fish.

Drake's Perfect Day: This takes place immediately after Drake's Amazon Cart, grounding them both in the timeline when Jace is nine months old. Just days or weeks before the beginning of Bad Parenting.

Dads on the Edge: Riley is down with the flu and the guys have to step up and wrangle the kids without her at a very public event. This was written for @txemrn Father's Day fic idea 2022. Ellie is 12, Xander 9, Jax 6, Jace 4 and Charlotte 2. Leo's son Hudson is 16.

Whose Your Daddy: The answer to Charlottes paternity. Takes places within a few months of Dad's on the Edge.

Thankful: The first Thanksgiving after the paternity test.

Drabbles:

Blocked: A woman Drake met in a bar decides to message him.

Group Chat: Max sends a picture into the wrong chat.

Spider Drake: Riley and Max are scared of a spider.

Size Doesn't Matter: A Max and Drake story.

The Stabbing: Don't mess with Riley.

Extras:

Baseball pants: A companion piece to Homerun. Lots of men in baseball pants. You're welcome.

Thanksgiving Ask: What the BR gang is thankful for.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

A World-- Unsure

dabi / f.reader 

genre: real world to parallel world au? (is that an au? it’ll make sense dw), angst, pinning, fools to lovers? (or dabi is stubborn/scared as all get out)

warning(s): blood, violence/bar fight, descriptions of injuries, cursing (dabi and i both have a potty mouth oops) 

w.count: 9.4k 

synopsis: You were someone in the middle.  You had no mega praise for heros to speak of, but you also had no ill will towards villains either- you had seen both sides. After a few years running a hidden, underground medical base for villains who needed treatment beneath the bar that you ran and owned, you’ve met your fair share of villains.  It was odd to think of them as good people, since you depended on them a lot if you got yourself into a pinch.  In fact, a lot of your patients became bar regulars on the public downlow. It’s not a big shock that you end up meeting Dabi.  

a/n: teehee, first time writing for dabi! I’m pretty excited not gonna lie, since this idea was pretty interesting to think about.  this is the first part of A World -- a two part series! I’ll be working on the next part asap, so hopefully it won’t be a horribly long wait- but we’ll see how my time management is in the long run lol.  (also, the draft was like 8.6k, i dunno how i added a whole 800 more words)

-x-x-x-

You stood behind the bar, shining glasses as you set up the counter and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall just above the entrance of the small pub.  You sighed as you set the glass down before taking the rag you were using and throwing it over your shoulder.  It was quiet in the open room filled with circular tabs, rectangular booths and metal rimmed chairs- quiet except for the footsteps of employees prepping for opening. 

Your black jeans hung on your waist as your white button up was slightly wrinkled, the long sleeves rolled as best as possible up to your elbows.  Your hair up and out of the way so you wouldn’t be constantly fighting it when the rush started.  There was a small, pocket apron around your waist with a pocket for a receipt book, a pen, some napkins and pain medicine just in case another headache walked in the door tonight and a few other odds and ends. The only other thing on your person was the new pair of steel toed boots you had indulged yourself to.  

“Hey, Boss Lady,” one of your employees called. You looked around, seeing the one who called you peeking their head around from inside the rec room. The room itself was probably one of the most expensive rooms you’ve ever put together.  A pool table in the middle of the room, dart boards on either side of the room, a small little entertainment center, a sofa and another mini bar inside run by a trusted bargirl you hired when you opened your pub doors for the first time. 

“What is it?” 

“Is the rec room rented out for the night? I heard some of the others saying it was.”  

That was something else that was different about your little hole in the wall.  Since you weren’t all that popular or big enough for a special vip area or an area in general for occasions like birthdays or anniversaries, your patrons could call and make reservations and get the rec room rented out. However, you only let the room be rented on Fridays, Saturdays and Wednesdays.  The other days, it was open for anyone to come and go as they please so long as nothing is damaged. 

It was Friday night. You couldn’t think of anyone renting it out tonight, but there was a group coming in tomorrow so long as they don’t cancel on you. 

You shook your head. “No.  It’s tomorrow when it’s rented.  You’re clear to leave the dividing ropes put away.” 

“Right on,” they thumbs upped you before retreating back into the room to prep and clean before opening. 

7:45, a quarter ‘till eight- opening time.  You cupped one hand around your mouth. “Hurry up and get your final prepping all done.  Quarter ‘till!” Your employees all made some sort of response or sound back to you, signaling that they understood.  

Part of you always felt a little guilty each opening night since you knew it wasn’t just regular citizens or the occasional hero off duty who frequented your pub.  You knew of the bad people who walk in the doors, stay for a drink and leave without causing a ruckus.  You knew of them, because, unknown to your employees, you had a second job. 

A second job that had a lot to do with the large, concrete basement of your pub that you refused to tell them about.  It wouldn’t be a great business move if you just told people you let villains sneak into your pub to go into the basement where you had a large array of (stolen) medical equipment to treat their injuries. 

-x-x-x-

It was well into the midnight rush of the night when the door opened again.  The loud combination of everyone’s murmurs and the smell of every type of alcohol someone could name off filtered through the air and almost made you pull out your medicine. After three years running this place, one would think you’d become accustomed to the smells combined with the noise.  To no avail. 

You had stepped back away from the bar, your back close to the shelves behind you lined with bottles, cups, glasses, and a small old-style antenna radio that, despite being turned on, wasn’t heard over the ruckus. 

Heading to the opposite side of the bar after being paged by some random man for a neat glass of whiskey.  You snagged a glass, grabbing a bottle of the cheapest brand you could find- because this man’s lack of manners towards a lady, bargirl or not, didn’t impress you.  Pouring the liquor into the glass like it was second nature, you reached under the bar to scoop out a sphere of ice to drop into the glass.  

Sliding it over to the already tipsy looking man, you were called- more politely this time- from another patron for a bottle of beer.  Smiling at him and signaling to him that you heard him, you trotted over to the mini fridge under the bar and grabbed the brand he requested.  

As you carefully, and skillfully, popped the tab off with the bar’s edge, you placed the bottle on a coaster and slid it over to him, tapping the bar top with your hand and serving him with a smile.  He thanked you, which you were appreciative of, before he turned to his friend next to him and continued conversing.  

Moving back to the middle of the bar, you noticed a few empty glasses in front of empty bar stools with bills pinned under them.  Taking the bills and pocketing them, you took the glasses and stashed them below the bar in a small tub you kept in a metal cart for easily putting dirty dishes for later. 

As you wiped down the bar top, you saw another person, clad in a full black get-up slide into a bar stool that was recently left vacant.  They weren’t far from you, just a few feet, but you could smell the scent of smoke on them.  You sighed, knowing exactly who it was.  Anyone would think that the man who just sat down was just a heavy smoker- and he was, but not so much recently so he claims- but you knew better. 

He lifted his arm to rest his elbow on the bar, his chin resting in his palm as you felt him stare at you.  

You didn’t say a thing to him, only got a glass off the shelf behind you, mixed some coke with some rum and added a scoop of ice, before placing the glass on some napkins and sliding it towards him. 

“Like usual?” You asked, retracting your hand as he had already started to pick up the glass to sip on it. 

“Like usual,” he confirmed.  This particular man had a deep voice, always laced with a small rough sound- more rough when he’s tired or just plain exhausted.  It was a side effect of the smoking and other smoke-like quirks of his personality.  “You seem busy tonight.”

“We’re always busy on Fridays, nothing unusual about that.  It’s the start of the weekend, everyone wants to drink.” You threw your cleaning rag over your shoulder, shouting to a call of another bar sitting patron as you felt the black, clad, mask covered man’s eyes on your. “You gonna stick around all night, or are you gonna drink and go this time?” 

He pulled his mask down to uncover his mouth, dark scars showing under the hood of his jacket just long enough to take a sip, and pull it back over his face.  Setting the glass down, he let out a breath and circled his finger along the rim. 

“I think I’ll stick around, just to annoy you.” You could hear the smirk on his face as you held back an eye roll for professionalism’s sake. 

“How courteous, thank you so very much.” He chuckled at your reply as you left your place in front of him to tend to others paging you left and right. He pushed his curled hand into his cheek as he watched you pad back and forth behind the long bar.  You should be grateful he at least planned on paying tonight. 

He remained on his barstool the next few hours, only shifting to look around, take a short spin on the stool, or stand to stretch his hunched body before sitting back down.  Each time his glass was close to empty, you’d knock your knuckles on the bar top- a signal asking if he wanted a refill- and he'd either knock back or keep the glass away from you as a form of saying yes or no. 

Though, it wouldn’t be a proper Friday night mid-shift without something going wrong. 

You weren’t sure why, but when 2 am started rolling around, you always grew weary of your patrons.  It was the prime time for tipsy, or smashed, people to start trouble. Whether with you, or with other paying customers, or  even your employees.  Out of all options, you wished they’d pester you so you don’t have to deal with someone else being harassed.  Though, even when it did happen to you- which was often since your place was stuck behind a wooden, polished bar- you didn’t ever appreciate it. 

You glanced around the filled room and saw a few familiar faces of villains you had treated before who decided to stay in your good graces. 

Them being there did make you feel a bit better about you own safety since you knew if something were to happen, they’d jump up to throw down on your behalf, even if you could handle yourself plenty well. 

You were once again wiping down the wood of your bar for the gazillionth time this evening when some scumbag, a smashed man who was well over your age, stumbled his way to the bar and slumped himself into a stool and leaned over the counter like some hunchbacked gargoyle. 

He reached over the bar to start to fiddle with the beer spigots that lined the end of it. Before he could create a giant mess in the tray beneath them and onto the floor, you rushed over and slapped his hands away.  

Instead of hissing at your stinging slaps, he whistled at your actions to keep your property away from him grime hands as you rolled your eyes.  

“Sir, keep your hands off of the bar tools.” You reached over and grabbed the half empty bottle of beer from his hands before you poured the rest of the alcohol out of it and tossed it under the bar into the bin where it clinked together with the other beer bottles you’ve tossed tonight. “I’m cutting you off. Sober up, leave your payment and get out before I have you thrown out.” 

From down the bar, you knew the scarred man in black was watching you. Whenever this kind of scene went down, you could feel his and all the other familiar eyes on you.  For villains, they sure were people of action and debt. Made you feel bad for calling them villains- if you didn’t think about the crimes they most definitely committed on a day-to-day basis. 

The drunk man slurred what you assumed was probably something close to reluctance at you cutting him off for the night and your swift decision to kick him out after he paid what he owed.  

Persistently reaching over to try and yank on the spigots again, you once again slapped his hands away, going a step further and grabbing his wrists and tossing them away back over to his side of the bar. 

“I won’t ask you again, sir.” 

Your familiar scarred man set down his drink, the contents in it empty as the remaining, semi-melted ice cubes fell together in satisfying clinks against the glass. 

It was times like now where you wished the quirk laws would allow you to use your quirk publicly without a permit or license because of riffraff like this oh-so-lovely hammered gentleman.  You were one to break the rules anyways, so you would if push came to shove regardless and you knew that your customers would keep their mouths shut about it.  

You’ve gone many a night with bar fights and tassels and not a single cop was called because you could handle the situation yourself, or your trusty villain’s had your back. Your little pub and you were a bend in the rules with a great camouflage jacket over your head and trustful patrons willing to keep a secret or get so drunk they don’t remember what happened.  Either option suited you well. 

You weren't a hero, nor a villain.  You were in the middle- a civilian with some spare time and no interest in sharing what you did the time you're not running your pub. 

The man stood from his stool the moment you turned your back to him and not only did he shove his arm against three different beer spigots in a clumsy fall against the bar, but he partly climbed over the bar, reached towards you and yanked you back by your shoulder just so he could get a solid slap on your ass. 

The shriek you let out wasn’t loud, it was more of shock of what was happening, followed by instant disgust.  Your rear stung at the strength the disgusting man used to slap it before he was drunkenly laughing, his gross breath wafting towards you from his half climbed over body. 

Before you could take care of the situation yourself, he was yanked back off to his side of the bar onto his wobbly feet. The instant his feet hit the tile and his chin even twitched to look around to see what yanked him back, glass shattered across his face. 

The scarred man who had silently kept you company tonight- and previous nights before that- had grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, yanked him back and away from you as you righted the beer spigots that had already created a big enough mess and smashed his empty, rum glass against the side of his head. 

The drunk man hit the ground, grabbing and holding his head as blood dripped from the side of his face and ear.  The scarred man looked down at him, shaking his hand about, the purple scars of his wrist showing as he shook the limb.  The glass seemed to nick his palm a bit upon impact, but nothing compared to the nasty wound on the drunk’s face.  

As the drunk lay on the ground, groaning and bleeding, your defender bent to riffle through his pocket and nabbed his wallet.  Pulling out both a card and a wad of cash, he held both towards you. 

“What’s his tab?” His rough voice was stern as you just sighed.  

You plucked bills from his hand, a handful of twenties, before you put it into your pocket.  You looked around, seeing a table from the corner lift a bill in his hand before he waved it at you.  You nodded- they were signaling they had his bill.  They then held up four fingers and then a fist.  A four dollar tab.  You decided that you’d keep the extra as a bonus and maybe tip your workers as well for his behavior.  

“He’s good to go.” You said as the scarred man put the card back into his wallet and shoved it back into his jacket pocket.  He then picked the drunk off the tile and shoved him out the doors before making his way back to the bar. 

He stepped over his glass and ice mess as he toed at a larger piece of glass that used to be the bottom of it.  He then looked at you with a shrug. You could practically seem the smirk on his face before he spoke.

“My bad.” 

Instead of saying anything, you placed a small plastic tub on the bar top and slid it towards him. You flicked your eyes down and he just sighed.  Squatting, he picked up his mess of glass and ice the best he could before he gave the tub back to you to throw away.  You had already gotten a start on the beer mess that made your nose twitch at the stench.  

You always hated the smell of beer. 

“Smells like piss,” you muttered to yourself. The scarred man heard you loud and clear though and he stifled a laugh at your annoyance. Once you had it more or less cleaned, you glanced at the closed fist of the man’s cut up hand. You saw small beads of red drop onto your bar. You pushed a handful of napkins towards him to squeeze into his palm. “Come down when we close. We’ll get your hand properly cleaned up.” 

He didn’t argue. Just chuckled as he took a sip out of his water bottle you had placed in front of him as he shut the napkins in his grip tightly. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

-x-x-x-

4 am: closing time.  You sigh as you bid your final employee farewell before you locked the door behind them. You sighed as you walked back to the bar, untying your apron from your waist on the way.  You emptied the pockets and placed whatever was inside on the bar top.  There was only one person left in the bar, in the same stool he had been in all night.  

You thumbed through the bills in your pockets, rounding to behind the bar and unlocking the always locked money drawer just under the far end of the counter where a small card swipe sat for patrons not paying with cash.  

Tucking your cash safely away and locking the drawer shut you stashed the key on the keyring with all your other keys in the pocket of your jeans.  You pulled your phone from your back pocket and checked the time.  About half after now.  

“Okay,” you spoke, the man already standing. “Come around the bar and we’ll head down.” 

He followed your lead, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his large jacket with his hood still on even in the new found privacy.  You walked back into the kitchen and beyond to a small landing that had an unlabeled door and then a separate staircase leading upward past a different doorframe.  He looked up the stairs, knowing full well that beyond them lays your apartment.  

Part of him was envious that you lived in your place of work. Technically, he could live in his, but he had his own separate place of peace away for breathers. He could only deal with his comrades for so long in a single span of time. 

You unlocked the unlabeled door that you told everyone who asked was just a closet for your personal belongings that didn’t fit up in the apartment. Opening it, another set of stairs that lead down was beyond it. 

Descending them, the man followed and shut the door behind him. He locked it when it was shut at his back. There was a different entrance to the basement he was descending into outside the bar anyways for the people who knew it was there and needed it.  

At the bottom, you flipped on the lights to the large, open room.  It wasn’t a giant space, but it was large enough to move around and there was a sofa, a work bench you used as a counter for coffee and random objects, tables and chairs for your patients waiting comfortably.  There were two rooms off two of the left side of the main ‘waiting room’ and one to the right- all solitary rooms for overnight patients.  The furthest back room had no door and just past the frame was a storage room of medicine, wraps, gauze, antiseptics, salves- just whatever you could get your hands on. 

You’re even occasionally gifted treatment items from past clients in hopes to repay the debt they feel they may owe you.

You point towards the long, hard top operating table in the back as you make your way to one of the shelves on the wall.  You kept all the basic first aid out in the open since they were easy to replace.

“Go sit,” you direct as the man flipped off his hood and unzipped his jacket.  His white tank top was wrinkle from being inside the stuffy jacket all night and he adjusted his belt to sit comfortably and not pull on his belt loops to dig into his hips.  Ruffling his black hair, he made his way to the table to lean against it. 

You were soon in front of him, hand out towards him asking for his own to inspect.  

“You’re always causing some sort of scene every time you come by. You realize it’s getting old, right Dabi?” 

The face stapled, scarred pyro-villain just grinned down at you, chest jolting with a scoff of amusement as you pulled the blood beaded napkins he held in his hand since you gave it to him away. Then, you poked around with tweezers pulling small pieces of glass away from his skin.

“Don’t lie. You love when I come by. Besides, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.” 

“I don’t need to be ‘kept on my toes’,” you tutted, making sure there were no pieces of glass left in his palm.  When there appeared to be none, you started dabbing the small cuts with antiseptic as he just kept leisurely leaning on your table.  “If you keep coming here and just to get all cut up, I’m going to start charging you for not only your drinks, but all the patching up I do to you too.” 

“Oh, you’d never,” he mused. He knew you all too well and he also knew that even if he were here daily for scratching his knee or getting a paper cut, you’d never have the heart to charge him anything when it came to treatment.  

Maybe he took advantage of that, maybe he didn’t.  

It didn’t help that he knew you had the hots for him- I mean, you did tell him about how you felt weeks ago; straight o his face no less. He just brushed it all off, knowing good and well that he and relationships in general just didn’t work out.  Besides, he was someone the public knew the face of and he wasn’t just someone to pass on the street and forget the face of.  

Dabi rejected you, you knew he would, but he let you down as easy as he could.  You just simply wanted to put your feelings out there so nothing would be awkward in the future.  It stung sure, but you felt more open with your feelings not bottled up in secrecy.

You wrapped his hand in gauze and called it good enough, placing all your things back where they were. Dabi looked at his hand, flipping it back and forth as he inspected how neatly you’ve gotten at wrapping bandages since the very first time. 

“Not bad,” he hummed. The first time he heard of you and came to get treated, you had to treat a nasty gash on his leg and you were clumsily with your bandaging since he was already covered in scars.  You were so confused on if you could cover them or not and if you did, if there was a special way.  You leaved quickly though. 

“Not like you could do any better.  You don’t really need any more stitches or staples than you already have.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t think they’re sexy,” he teased as he stood up straight, plunging his hands into his pants pockets as he began to follow you around the basement room to room like a dog.  You soon left your basement, going back up the stairs, opening the door and leaving before going up the second set of stairs leading up to your apartment.  

Dabi followed you the entire way with a shit eating grin on his face.  

You sighed as you unlocked your apartment door and looked over your shoulder and down to the burnt man just behind you on lower stair steps.  

“Do you need something?” 

“Yeah. Inside.” 

You cursed under your breath, going inside and him following knowing that you couldn’t argue him out of it.  He often did this, getting treated and then going up to your apartment.  In fact, there was a time when he would pick your lock and let himself in, so you ended up making him a copy so he could just stop doing it. 

He may not be good in relationships and definitely not looking for one, on top of rejecting you, but he could very well enjoy his evenings pestering you instead. they were two distinctly different situations.   

Kicking off his boots and fumbling with his jacket, he hung it on the coat wrack- not willing to be yelled at by you for making your home a mess with his junk again- and let himself in.  He immediately made a beeline for your living room and plopped himself on your couch like he owned the place and paid your bills.  

You had ventured to the kitchen before you went to the living room and tossed him something.  Catching it, he saw a poptart in his hand, still wrapped in it’s aluminum wrapping.  

“Eat. I’m taking a shower.” He shrugged as you turned and headed to shower as he flipped on your television and let himself finally relax. 

It was odd, being around you and in your home.  He didn’t even feel this relaxed and loose in his own apartment by himself.  Where he lived was nothing fancy and it was cheap, but it was his and the location was kept on the downlow just like he needed.  Spending time with the league was fine and dandy, but they could be so damned irritating sometimes, so he didn’t dare even try and nap at the base. 

He let his head fall back against the couch and he took deep breaths.  

On occasions like this, he did feel a bit guilty.  It’s not like he was actually taking advantage of your feelings or your kindness to do what he wanted, you were just  too nice for your own good and let him. Don’t get him wrong, you would scold him if he did something you didn’t like- like leaving his jacket on the floor- so it wasn’t like you didn’t want him here. 

Dabi could hear your shower running just barely under the sound of the tv’s noise.  Sometimes, he’d find himself thinking back to when you told him how you felt and how easily you accepted the fact he said no. 

He was just coming back from another stupid league mission and had a pretty nasty cut behind his left shoulder. You were cleaning the blood off his skin, trying not to snag your rags in any staples before you were smearing something onto the wound, making him sigh in of relief of the cooling sensation. 

It was when you were pasting a gauze pad on his shoulder and patching it on securely when you blurted out that you liked him. All he did when you said that was laugh at you, to which your silence that followed explained that you weren’t joking and were in fact serious.  He looked at you with a face you hadn’t seen before, a look of vulnerability for just a moment, before it shifted to one of seriousness. 

“I’m not interested. Sorry, doll.” You nodded at his quick rejection. Though you accepted it fairly easily, he could still see the slight furrow of your brow and dip in your lips with his rejection.  You may have even seen his rejection coming, but hearing it still had to be a blow to your heart. 

He was glad the relationship between you two hadn’t changed regardless of how you felt and how he said no.  You still put up with his bullshit and he still hung around like a fly you couldn’t smash under a flyswatter because it kept evading the strikes.  It was still comfortable here- in your place. 

Dabi stood from the couch, moving to your window only to lean out when he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. You had really gotten on his ass once when you caught him smoking in the middle of your living room without a window even open.  You told him to smoke out a window, or go outside to contaminate his lungs claiming you dealt with the smell of smoke enough during bar hours. 

Flicking a small, blue flame with his index finger, he lit the stick and huffed.  Nicotine really accompanied his quirk- it was like he and cigarettes were just meant to be since he himself was a human-sized lighter.

He heard the door to your bathroom open and soon you stepped out with grey sweat and a cheap, cutoff shirt that just barely exposed your stomach on, towel drying your hair.  You looked at him, water still barely dripping off your eyelashes and hair strands untouched by the towel.  

“Glad to see you’re listening to me,” you told him as you nodded towards the smoke that he took a draw from.  He puffed the smoke out the window as he turned around to lean against the open pane.  His hand out the window to keep the crumbling ash from dropping inside.  

“I can behave sometimes too, you know.”

You scoffed at him, turning to grab a water bottle from your fridge in the kitchen and returning to the living room.  “Yeah, not likely.” You sat on the couch to mindlessly watch whatever channel the tv was on and once Dabi and finished smoking, he shut the window and rejoined you on the couch.  His arm was resting on the back of the couch as you had pulled out your phone and began to scroll through apps and occasionally looking back up to the tv. 

It was moments like this where the uncertainty really hit him.  

It was this- these comfortable situations- that frightened him.  He was a bad person, a person who’s done bad things and will continue to do bad things.  He used to sit around your apartment and bug you with questions.  Had you ever ratted anyone out? Were you really a completely secretive person when it came to your unofficial side job? Were you really someone to be trusted? Why did you do what you did in the first place? 

Now, he didn’t ask anything anymore. He grimaced at himself. Maybe he was letting himself get too comfortable here. 

“I’m going away for a while,” he suddenly blurted out.  You glanced up at him from your phone. 

“Have some big job or something coming up?” 

“Yeah,” he lied, “some league stuff I gotta deal with.” 

“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?” 

“No idea.  Probably a few weeks I bet.” Dabi couldn’t stop himself from lying to you and he got irritated at himself for feeling even the slightest bit bad for doing so. This was the only way though, the only way to try and get back to the rough, guarded villain he was supposed to always be.  

Dabi had to get away from you for a while. 

“Well,” you started, looking back down.  He looked at you, seeing you frown just a bit- he bit his cheek.  “Stay safe. If you need any patching up when you get back, you know where to find me.” 

He lowered his chin, his eyes lidding as he hardened his resolve. His decision was final, and he had to follow through with it.  He looked back to the tv, trying to bask in theses few final moments. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

-x-x-x-

Dabi’s irritated. He’s been irritated actually.  

He’s sitting at the bar, not your bar, but the bar in the league’s headquarters.  He sat slouched in a stool as Kurogiri- as usual- stood behind the bar.  The glass of some brown liquor that Dabi had nursed for the past hour started to taste like static to him.  He missed your bar’s liquor- the revelation made him more irritated. 

The entire reason he’s avoided going to your pub and always looked around corners in the city to make sure you wouldn’t bump into him by accident was so he could squash whatever the fuck he was feeling when he was around you down into dust.  Though, theses recent last couple days had proven that his plan was backfiring. 

Instead of forgetting what it felt like to be comfortable and content and relaxed, he was missing it.  He was missing the air of serene you always carried everywhere you went and he dared to say he yearned for it again.  

Dabi clicked his tongue as he pushed his forehead into his palm when Shigiraki had walked into the bar from wherever he had been before.  Seeing the hunched over excuse of a comrade, he groaned. The leader had often heard of your patchwork jobs for villains.  He himself had even met with you once- not for any injuries he had sustained, but for a simple meeting to exchange greetings with potential allies. Anything helped for his cause. 

Shigiraki also knew that Dabi often frequented your pub, and for whatever reason he hadn’t been recently.  His sour mood as of late paired with his lack of attendance to your business and attention was too easy to put together.  

“I’m really sick of you moping around here,” the leader complained.  Dabi lifted his forehead from his palm and glared across the room to the leader who now took a seat one stool away from Dabi. “Go be a killjoy somewhere else.” 

“Oh, piss off.” 

His mood began to spiral rapidly when Toga and Twice had come into the bar as well, coming back from wherever the fuck they had been.  Toga- trying her best to get on Dabi’s every nerve- was told by Kurogiri that his mood was unpleasant because he hadn’t been to a specific bar in town for some time now.  

Dabi felt offended that Kurogiri connected his bad mood to the bar and not you. 

“Maybe I should kick the crap outta you myself, so you can go back to what's-her-name and then maybe you’ll finally lose the attitude.” Okay, that one earned the hand-fetishist leader a growl from the pyromaniac. It only made Shigiraki scoff in a small victory, knowing that everyone around the league could see that his sour mood was solely revolving around you- or lack thereof.

Toga, ever on the hunt for new ‘friends’, immediately jumped at the idea of finally going to the mystery lady who heals everyone just because she has a kind heart.  An idea that Dabi shut down without so much as batting an eyelash. 

“But, why not!” Toga whined.  Dabi rolled his eyes.  Villain or not, Toga was just a high schooler with more than enough psychotic tendencies to warrant concern. If he had it his way- you’d never even get the chance to set your eyes on the blonde, twin-bunned psycho.  

The constant chartering centering in on him and you began to grate on his nerves and before long he was stomping up to his feet and out the bar door.  Shigiraki just scoffed as Toga pouted. Twice was simply mocking and jesting at the burned man who ‘just ran away’.  

Dabi had had enough.  He was going back to your pub- but it wasn’t going to be because he missed you.  He just wanted a drink in peace and fucking quiet. At least away from those idiots. 

-x-x-x- 

Dabi had slithered his way into your bar- pushing his way in with a group so that when you shouted from your place behind the bar to greet them in and to tell them to just find a seat, you wouldn’t recognize him. He had stopped by his apartment before making his way here to change into clothes he hoped you wouldn’t recognize him in either.  

The large, indigo tinted turtle neck he wore was way too large on his torso. The neck was horribly stretched out and pulled up as far as it could be to cover his jaw and mouth so that he didn’t have to wear the mask he knew you would recognize.. He traded his normal jacket with a different one he’d kept around for city crawling as he had it half way zipped up and the hood flipped up to hide his hair and scarred ears. Keeping his chin down, he used the shadow of his hood and the shadows the pub lights casted to keep the scars just under his eyes more or less out of sight.  

He grumbled at himself. Why was he going to such lengths to make sure you didn’t see him in the first place?   In the past, he wouldn’t have gone to the lengths to stay on the downlow in public like this; he would’ve just gone back home and crashed or drank alone or something of the sort.  You probably weren’t even under the impression he was back from the mission you thought he was on.

He slid into a booth in the back corner where he could still see you working behind the bar.  Pacing back and forth, talking and serving patrons and just doing your general work.  It felt strange seeing you work from all the way in the back instead of in his usual barstool, front row seat.  He bit his tongue when he caught himself almost missing his up close proximity to you. 

He was soon slid a bottle of beer- even if he didn’t really like the taste- as he nursed it.  He’d occasionally scan the bar to see what kind of business you had tonight.  When he wasn’t, he was scrolling mindlessly on his phone with glances up to the bar every so often.  He felt uneasy when you weren’t in his sights, even with you so close by.  

An hour after he had entered the pub, the doors had opened roughly enough to make tables turn their heads or hush up their conversations to see who had just made the racket coming in.  Dabi glanced, pulling his hood back just a bit to see past the fabric of it. 

A group of three men had walked into the pub.  Gruff looking fellas, but nothing all that special.  They started scanning the pub area, looking from tables, to faces, to chairs, all the way to the bar.  The flame user didn’t appreciate the snarl on the middle man’s face when his eyes landed on you busting the bar top with your rag.  

Shutting the door behind them, the three of them split apart, one heading towards the rec room and another heading in Dabi’s side of the bar. The middle man marched up towards the bar and instead of taking a seat- opted to lean on the bar between two already seated patrons.  They ended up leaving their bills and scurrying out of the joint. 

You took their payment and bit your tongue to keep from telling the obviously trouble-looking newcomer off for running off your customers.  In fact, you completely disregarded him.  

Once your bills were collected and placed into your apron pocket, you looked at the middle man leaning on the bar square in the eyes.  You held unamused eye contact with him for a beat before you shut your eyes and easily turned away from him. 

Clearly unhappy with the attention he so desperately wanted, he reached over the bar and yanked on the back of your work button up.  You let out a shocked, choked gasp as you dropped the glass you had in your hand.  The sound of shattering glass echoed around the pub as it became completely silent.  

Dabi jumped from his booth, standing at his table instead of leisurely sitting like he had been as he watched the man reach out for your shirt. He growled under his breath when he yanked you back towards him over the bar. 

This trouble-seeker was new to your pub, you could tell this the moment he came in with his two buddies.  He didn’t know of the amount of eyes on him now that he had gained the attention he wanted.  And he didn’t know how many of those eyes were villains ready to take him out. 

You coughed as he tried dragging you completely over the bar just by your shirt collar.  Your lower back pushed painfully into the wooden edge of the bar as your heels came off the floor, your toes being the only leverage you had left on your side of the bar top.  

You wanted to swing your elbow back and pop the son of a bitch in the nose, but you had to keep all ten of your fingers on the front of your collar to keep it from painfully pulling against your throat. You attempted to unbutton the top buttons for a window of breath, but you didn’t get the chance to before you were dropped.  

“Hey!” A voice you had recognized from a past medical visit came from behind you and the man yanking on your shirt.  He had groaned as he dropped you, your unsteady toes combined with your heels slamming back down to the floor and your spine dragging down the edge of the bar all made you drop to the floor.  You hunched over on the floor, gagging as you pulled on your shirt’s fabric away from your neck- the hemming all stretched out and well ruined by now.  

The bar felt like walls that encased around your slumped over body and you soon felt someone hop over the bar and rub your back.  Looking up with teary eyes from your lack of breath, you recognized the female criminal you had treated a handful of times before.  She soothed you behind the bar as it sounded like pure chaos erupted from beyond the bar. 

The short screams and shouts of whatever customer didn’t feel like fighting and fleeing.  you even heard your employees ducking out- as you instructed them to do when bar fights broke out. You did not want to feel out accident reports, so your rules of running when things get nasty was non-negotiable.

You were content to just stay sitting on the floor, catching your breath until the fighting was done.  You knew those who were fighting against the law were already defending you and your pub- they would take care of it.  

It was their safe space and these thugs had just tried disrupting that space. 

It was only when a plume of fire shot out from what looked like to be the back corner of your pub did you jump to your feet. Leaning against the bar with the villainess at your side, holding you to make sure you didn’t tumble over, you saw Dabi.  

“Dabi?!” You were shocked to see him. He hadn’t been around due to his work (so he told you), and you were confused on why he was here now.  Why was he wearing clothes you hadn’t seen before and when did he get here?  

He was quick to jump into the fray, mixing in with forces to drive the stupid thugs out of your pub, but not without beating them within an inch of their life first. Between tables being thrown, chairs knocked over, fire bursting then dispersing and fist and legs flying- it was hard to keep up with what was actually happening.  

What you did see though, was from the rec room someone coming out and pointing their fingers out towards your villains- your allies.  Their fingertips started to open and sharp, needle like tips were ready to be fired out of them.  

You climbed over the bar, the villainess calling out to you to not get involved.  You stumbled into a chair, holding yourself up as you shouted over the commotion. 

“Hey! Get behind a wall or table!” You pointed to the man under the rec room doorway.  “Don’t let whatever he’s gonna shoot out of his fingers hit you!” You were ready to duck back behind a table when you were shoved in the chest by the third man you saw enter with the thugs earlier.  He just appeared from no where it seemed when he struck you.

Knocking you into a nearby table, you slid onto it before it tipped and you tumbled off of it when it fell.  Groaning, you cursed under your breath.  You were getting really fucking sick of being pushed around tonight.  You got to your knees to get yourself back to your feet when you felt something push against your back and wrap around your shoulders, keeping you down. 

Whatever was keeping you down and covered was warm.  It covered your back and kept your shoulders encased.  Reaching up, it was an arm that wrapped around your and it was someone’s chest that pushed against your back.  Looking back you saw his scarred ears and neck before you saw his face. Not to mention the blast of burning blue that shot out opposite of his outstretched other arm.

“Dabi,” you gasped as you felt his body start to push more into yourself.  You whined, his weight beginning to crush you. “Hey, get off me,” you huffed.  

“Oh, you so owe me,” he chuckled before he fell against your completely. His arm dropped and the one that wrapped around you previous fell limp and released you. Rolling off to the side awkwardly to try and catch his fall to the tile, you saw a small needle sticking from his neck.  

“Oh, shit” you muttered.  Turning, you lifted a table to cover your back while the rest of the chaos kept going on behind you.  Pushing him onto his back, he was out cold.  Looking him over, you didn’t see any worrisome wounds on him- in fact he didn’t look wounded at all.  It was only that needle in his neck. “No doubt from that guy’s quirk,” you mumbled as you inspected it.  

Did he cover you so you didn’t get hit with the needle instead? You didn’t want to work yourself up into a frenzy at the thought of him taking a shot for you- but no matter how you looked at the situation, that was exactly what happened. 

It was a small, thin like a sewing needle with a ball point on the back of it.  Whatever this needle is coated in obviously knocked the pyro out.  You peeked over the table to see the same man ready to shoot a second round from his fingertips. 

“Take out the needle shooter! His needles will render you unconscious!” Your shouted leadership to take out one of the three low-level threats was clear and it was probably 20 minutes later when the three thugs were tied up and unconscious.  

You sighed, finally feeling safe again in your busted and destroyed bar.  You groaned for the umpteenth time knowing it was going to cost a fortune to get the tables repaired.  Not to mention the seared wallpaper that peeled from the previous heat and broken glasses, frames and damaged light fixtures.  You would have to close your doors for repairs for at least a month. 

As you looked around, you moved from your sitting position to instead kneel at Dabi’s side. 

“Can someone help me bring him downstairs? And lock the entrance.” Dabi was picked up and was soon being carried back behind the bar and through the doors, waiting for you to come unlock the way down as someone else had safely latched your pub doors shut. Your employees would understand if you just shot them a few texts.  

Before you went into the back, you pointed at the unconscious needle shooter.  “Also, bring him down too, but keep him tied up.  I need to know what his quirk is so that I know exactly why he did and how to treat it. Anyone else who needs treatment, you can come down too.” 

An hour later, you had Dabi’s unconscious body hooked up in one of your rooms to small machines to make sure he wasn’t dying.  Whatever the needle was- you concluded that it at least wasn’t poisonous.  You had taken it from his neck and had it run for tests.  It wasn’t coated in anything, but the tip of it had released a sort of potion into his body from where he had been stores in the ball point end; but you weren’t sure what it was.  

You moved away from your laptop on the small desk you had next to Dabi’s temporary bed.  You leaned your elbow against the wood and stared at him.  

“Until I figure out what exactly happened, I have no idea when he’ll wake up.” You frowned as worry began to churn in your stomach.  It eased you that his life didn’t seem to be in danger, but that didn’t really help anything else.  He was immobile and unresponsive until further notice as far as you knew.

You sighed getting up and searching for his phone.  Finding it in his jacket pocket, you plucked it out and began to go through his contacts.  You were glad you watched him punch in his lock code one day and held it in your memory. 

Finding a contact under ‘Childish Leader’, you immediately began to ring it.  You knew who Dabi worked under, and who this so called ‘childish leader’ was- you did meet with him one time after all.  When the line picked up, you were greeted with a sigh. 

“What,” a strained voice annoyingly greeted.  

“You’ll want to come to the location I’m about to send you,” you started. You swore you heard the frown and confused brow drip on his face when it wasn’t Dabi’s voice that was on the phone.  “Want to know what happened to Dabi? Then get your wrap quirked friend to get you over here, Shigaraki.” 

You quickly ended the call, letting out a shaky breath and feeling your heart pound in your chest. Dabi only ever really complained about Shigaraki, and you had only met hi that one time for general introductions, so you didn’t know much about him.  You hoped that just telling him what to do before sending him your coordinates would be enough to just get him to show up.  You’d deal with the rest later. 

You stood from your chair as you looked down at Dabi.  He always looked quite peaceful sleeping- it was odd since he was always scowling when he was awake. He’d smirk and tease, sure, but you don’t think you’d ever seen a real smile on his face before.  

You chuckled to yourself, touching his hair just once before you stopped- knowing he didn’t like you touching him like that.  He wanted to keep you at arms length because of your feelings and you knew that- so unconscious or not, you had to keep his wants at the forefront of your mind.  

A knock sounded at the door when you saw one of your allied villains come in.  “Some guys are in the bar, asking for you.  Some freak with a hand on his face and a gimp looking dude.”  You almost laughed at the villain's description. 

“Tell them I’ll be up in a moment.” The villain left as you looked once more at Dabi. You smiled down at him. “Thanks for the save, you reckless idiot.” 

-x-x-x-

Dabi groaned as he rolled from his back to his side.  He was only vaguely aware he was previously on his back ,which already annoyed him- he was not a back sleeper.  He peeked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling above him.  

That wasn’t his apartment ceiling? Sitting up, he rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes and taking a breath.  His head pounded and he opened his eyes back up to see the room he was in.  It wasn’t his apartment at all.  He was in a bedroom, but he hadn’t seen this room before.  

The last thing he remembered was jumping into a bar fight at your pub and then covering your back when that finger-freak tried shooting something out of his fingertip at you.  He didn’t even realize his body moved until he felt the needle meant for you dart into his neck.  

Rubbing at his neck, he felt no pain.  Getting up, he looked around the room.  

This room wasn’t yours- he’d seen it before- and it wasn’t anyone else’s he knew of. He wasn’t at the league HQ either, that run down place didn’t have rooms as well kept at this one. Surely you wouldn’t have pushed him off to some random villain until he woke up and this was some stranger’s room... right?   

After a moment, he started getting nosy. As he opened more drawers and books and notepads, he got more and more confused. These were all things he was interested in.  All the notebooks had his handwriting in them and his name was signed on papers and sticky notes scattered on a corkboard hanging on the wall.  The phone on the bedside table and he unlocked with his passcode and started going through it- it was all his information just like normal, but something was off. 

He felt off.  He looked at his palms, the scars he’s had since he was younger still showing on his skin.  Something nagged in the back of his head and he knew that he had to get answers and the best way to do that is to track you down.  

Grabbing a jacket and zipping it up to his chin and placing sunglasses on his face, he left the room that was filled with, presumably his own things, but definitely not his things. 

The roads and buildings all around were the same as he remembered.  However, when he came to your pub’s building, it looked different.  Shabby almost. Trying to go inside, the door was rusted and jammed. Jostling with the door wasn’t getting him anywhere and he knew if he tried to bust it down you’d have his ass on the wall for the damage.  

Looking up, he saw the window that lead into the living room of your apartment.  Walking around the building he started up the fire escape and carefully treaded the side of the building to the window before he shimmied it open from the outside and hopped inside. 

“What the fuck?” The apartment that was once filled with your furniture and belongings was empty.  Not just empty, but it was dusty, barren and isolated like no one had been in there for years. Jogging downstairs, he ran into the bar to find it the same way: empty.

No tables, no chairs, no booths.  No bottles lining the dusty shelves and no frames of art or recreational items in the rec room. it even still had the old, tacky wallpaper instead of the wallpaper he remembered. The stench of dust filtered through his nose and made his throat burn- it was apparent that the place hadn’t been aired out in years.  

Turning back, the door to the basement he had been in so many times wasn’t even there.  When he left the building to go to the basement the backway, the backway in didn’t seem to exist either.  It was like the basement he had spent so much time in with you patching him up was never there to begin with. 

“This is fucking crazy,” he mumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket.  He wasn’t used to feeling whatever was bubbling in his chest.  It was painful, like caltrops tearing apart his stomach and chest as he searching for your number in his contacts.  He began to start walking back to where your apartment use to be, to go back inside the abandoned pub, when he dialed your phone.  He was soon stuck in his tracks when he caught sight of his reflection in a window.  

The window’s glass was cracked, barely held in place in the frame as he stared back at his reflection.  Reaching up, he ran his scarred hand through his hair. His hair that wasn’t dyed black; his hair that was as white as his mothers. 

“Where the fuck am I?” He breathed as he heard the monotone voice over the phone. 

-I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed does not exist-

[blitzosblog]

Baka - K•B - Part 2

Summary: After Bakugo's harsh words he does something to worsen the situation and it leaves the two in a state of unrest leading to a loving embrace Y/N didn't think she'd get.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Warning: Swearing and angst.

Rating:16+

_______________________________________________

Part 1, Part 3

_______________________________________________

I had been held up in my room all evening, I still hadn't eaten any food but to be honest I didn't care right now, I truned to look at the clock and it was midnight now to hopefully everyone was asleep. I got up nd made my way out the room looking around to make sure nobody was around, I looked down seeing a plate of food, picking it up I went to the common room and thrw it in the bin.

"You shouldn't throw that ya know!"

I jumped at the sudden voice, turning to see Bakugo sitting on the couch alone.

"I didn't want it" I replied going up to him and sitting next to him.

"What did I do?" I asked, my voice cracking, strained from crying so much, he looked at me, eyes softening skighlty.

"You- you didn't do anything damn it"

"Then why have you been so off today and mean to me, like you were at dinner"

He looked down clenching his fists tight, sighing and looking over to me.

"I want to be the best Y/N and there's two things in my way right now" he said.

"You know you don't have to worry about Deku and if the other is Todoroki or your lessons-" I began being cut off by the messy blonde.

"Its you, your the second problem and i- i can't have that" he spoke so sternly its like he didn't care at all.

"Wh-what do you mean, all I do is support you Suki, i-i come with you when you train, I fix you up, make you lunch so you eat that day-" I kept rambling cause I dint know what else to do.

"Exactly you're always there you're so clingy, to everyone, its like you need people to be around you all the time and I don't have time for it and you're a distraction." Again no emotion, its as though he felt nothing, where as I was breaking inside, everything felt like it was stinging with heartbreak and I couldn't move properly.

"I thought you loved me Suki" I whispered tears brimming my eyes. He shot up looking at me as if I'd killed someone.

"What! I do love you dumbass!" He shouted.

"Then why are you breaking up with me" I asked looking up at him teats now freely falling, his face hardened and he clenched his fists.

"I want to be number one and I can't have any distractions, so I'm sorry but this is over Y/N"

"But we love each other, I'll be less clingy I promise please!" I pleaded with him grabbing onto his hand,but he stood slipping away from me.

"If you don't get then I don't love you" he said, looking down at me once more before leaving to go to his own room, I sat there, numbness taking over, the thoughts of everyone finding me clingy and how I always needed people kept swimming round my head over and over again, that night I hadnt slept and I guess the best part of this was he'd done it on a Friday and the weekend had passed by with me held up in my room ignoring the knocking on my door, sleep didn't come then either but I didn't care, I just stat in bed thinking and thinking till Monday came round.

I dragged my self out of bed to class alone, walking in seeing everyone chatting amongst themselves bakugo sat at his desk whilst kirishima talked behind him, he looked like his usual grumpy self, I took my seat next to him silently, the sudden silence amongst the class told me everyone noticed me sit-down and they must have heard about the break up.

"Good morning Y/N-chan, you don't look to good!" Midoriya exclaimed receiving a smack from Denki, to be honest I must have looked ill, but what would one except, someone not sleeping for three nights, and staying cooped up in their room, with minimal food would look like crap too.

"Mm- thanks Izuku, you look great to"

He giggled, tmrubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Sorry, we heard about what happened, hope your doing okay" he said glancing over at Bakugo, I gave him a huff and turned back to work as Mr Aizawa came in to the lesson.

I noticed Bakugo glancing over every so often but I didn't really care much. Mr Aizawa ended up taking us outside into the sports field and we were meaning to be training our quirks.

We were doing one on ones, the limit being who got their opponent on their back first won.

First It was Deku and Tsu, then Uraraka and Momo, Deku and Momo won their round and next up it was me and Iida. My quirk was the ability to generate these beams similar to Tokoyami's dark shadow.

The fight was almost over I had Iida where I wanted him but the sleep deprivation was getting to me and the lack of food was also getting to me, my vision was blurry and I went to blast at Iida but he used his quirk and speed bast me causing me to tunr quickly and have my beam slash back into my head smacking me to the ground face first.

My vision was spotting as soon as I tried to stand and I could see Iida a running to me and heard Mr Aizawa saying we need Recovery girl.

Then everything went black.

[gingeralepdf]

A Little Love

A/N: here she isss!!! this is the piece that i wrote for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge that was set up by the amazing @andwhenshesays @for-fucks-sake-h and @oh-honey-styles (thank you for organizing all of this!! you’re all legends!!)

extra big thank you to lydia @youresogolden-h and brailey @daydreamsofh for being such sweet beta readers <3

this is my first ever attempt at writing fic, so i hope you enjoy it!

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption

Harry is your best friend and your coworker, but you see him as more. Maybe you both just want a little love.

word count: ~8K

**April 25, 2020, 11:15am**

It’s a comfortable spring day in San Francisco. The windows are cracked, letting in sweet smelling fresh air and the moderate bustle of people out and about. Despite the perfect weather to be out at the market or taking a walk in the park, you’re currently at your neighbor’s apartment, slouched on the couch in the living room and in the midst of a New Girl marathon. Or rather, you are in the midst of a New Girl marathon, but your friend has not looked up from the guitar he is restringing for the past fifteen minutes.

You’ve been stealing glances at Harry from the other end of the couch. He has the guitar laying across his lap. He’s able to take all of the strings off and put three new ones on without a problem, but something about the fourth string seems to be giving him a lot of trouble. Every time he gets the string wound up on the tuning key, it snaps loose, like it can’t hold the tension. After several attempts with the same result, Harry sets his string winder on the coffee table and lets out a frustrated huff while scratching his forehead.

Although you know it’s probably best to not make a comment while he’s annoyed, you decide to make one anyway.

Just as he grabs the winder from the coffee table and goes in for another attempt at the string, you blurt out, “I thought the whole point of watching Netflix at your house instead of mine was so you could work and watch at the same time.”

Harry rolls his eyes and slowly cranes his head to look in your direction, “I am watching.”

“Right, so tell me what Miranda has been up to,” you challenge.

Harry lowers his head in concentration, making another attempt at winding up the string on the tuning key, “She’s like… going on a date or something.”

“Miranda isn’t even a character in the show!”

The tuning key once again snaps loose. Harry’s nostrils flare and he mutters a quick “Fucks sake.”

A moment passes where the only sound in the room is the TV. You’re trying to gauge whether or not you’ve actually pissed him off a bit. You decide to bite your tongue and see what he is going to say next.

Harry finally shifts his eyes from the guitar to you, “Obviously I can’t work and watch at the same time.”

You give him a pointed look, “You think?”

“I promise I can finish this project pretty quick, and then I’ll watch, like, four episodes, uninterrupted. I just need to go get some parts so… would you mind pausing it?”

Once the show is paused, Harry gets up from his spot on the couch, gently sets the guitar on the floor, and turns to exit the living room. However, he is stopped short since your legs are making a barricade between the couch and the coffee table. With a mischievous grin on his face, he uses his shin to slowly push your legs away from him so that your feet slide off the end of the table and onto the floor. Your jaw drops in exaggerated offense. Giggles erupt from both of you as he narrowly avoids your attempts to trip him while he steps over your legs and then jogs across the room to his workspace.

A huge benefit of living a couple of buildings away from your best friend is that any given day of the week can be spent like this. The both of you can always be found at either one of your apartments watching hours of Netflix, working on projects, or sharing meals.

Just as you were enjoying the moment of silence that fell onto the room, your phone and Harry’s phone buzz on the coffee table. With a quiet groan, you slowly sit up from the couch to see a text from your boss, sent in a group chat with yourself and Harry.

Would either of you be able to work the closing shift tonight? Sarah called in sick and the rest of the shift leads can’t work today.

Although you and Harry were both looking forward to having a Saturday off, you knew the bar was a little short-staffed this weekend, so you both kind of saw this coming.

“Is that who I think it is?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, Adam’s asking one of us to work the closing shift tonight. Sarah called in sick and I guess Charlotte can’t work today.”

Harry groans as he makes his way back to his previous spot on the couch and plops down with a screwdriver and a plastic bag containing what looks to be a new set of tuning keys in hand.

Harry takes a moment to look around his living room, taking in all of the instrument cases stacked around the small apartment, scratching his jaw in thought. “I mean, I would take it, but I’ve got a lot of projects that have to get done this weekend.”

“I guess that just leaves me then,” you say flatly, sinking further into the couch and staring straight ahead out of the window across the room.

“‘M’ sorry,” Harry says with a light chuckle at your dramatics, “I’ll owe you one.” His offer comes out more like a question.

You look back in his direction to see him with a wide, dimpled grin staring back at you. You know he’s just trying to make you feel better, and it works.

After sending a quick text to your boss letting him know you would be there tonight, you sit up straight and grab the remote from the coffee table. “That’s a really tempting offer. I’ve got a lot of sick days saved up, you know?”

“Heyyyy,” Harry draws out in a playfully offended tone.

You chuckle before asking, “Can we just finish this episode so I can go home and get some rest before work?”

“Yeah I think we can do that.” He sets the screwdriver and plastic bag on the coffee table and leans back on the couch, folding his hands together to rest on his stomach.

You press play on the remote and settle into another day with your best friend.

**April 26, 2020. 1:47am**

About ten minutes until the bar closes, and there are still three large, lively groups hanging around. You and your coworkers have done as many pre-closing tasks as you possibly could, aside from taking the drink glasses straight out of the customers’ hands. Now it just seems to be the longest waiting game ever until you’re officially allowed to kick everyone out.

While you’re all busying yourselves with wiping down counters and straightening chairs, the front door swings open.

Just as you’re about to put on your best customer service face that you can muster, you see a familiar blue and white plaid jacket and fluffy brown curls. Harry is strolling in, surveying the crowd of customers as he’s making his way to where you’re standing at the bar. You see that he is donning a form-fitting grey t-shirt with a bright yellow smiley face on it, light brown high-waisted pants, and a delicate looking pearl necklace. He always seems to be able to effortlessly look put together, even when he is making bold choices.

You look at him with raised eyebrows and ask with exaggerated charm, “Come here often?”

“Oh god.” He laughs at your ill attempt at comedy through a pained expression.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, “Same as always.”

Harry has made it a routine to walk home with you when you’re working the closing shift. Even when you insist that there’s no need for him to stay up so late when he’s not working.

He glances around before looking back at you, “Is there anything I can help with right now?”

You shake your head. “Just waiting for them to leave so we can clean everything.”

“Bollocks,” he mutters before puckering his lips.

You decide to go around the corner of the bar to the prep area where the music controls are. Hopefully the customers will take the hint that it’s time to leave once you lower the volume.

After a few minutes, all of the staff are breathing a collective sigh of relief when one group makes their way to the door and the other two groups shortly follow suit.

By the time you follow the crowd out and you lock the door, it’s 2:05 a.m. Considering how busy it was tonight, you’re counting this as a small victory.

Harry and your other coworkers are going around cleaning up glasses and bottles and taking them back to the sink while you make your way to the register to start your shift lead duties.

Once the tips are divided, you take a look around and see that your coworkers are steadily making their way through the cleaning checklist. With Harry’s help, things are moving along pretty quickly. You pull the first bundle of cash out of the drawer and start counting.

After getting the cash drawer sorted out, and counting out a new one for Monday, you hear your coworker saying your name. “I think we’ve done everything on the cleaning checklist. Is there anything else you need help with?”

“Actually, all I have left to do is inventory. I’m not gonna hold you hostage for that, so you guys are free to head out if you want to.”

Your coworkers are saying goodnight and clocking out shortly after. Once they're gone, you’re left with the faint buzzing of the refrigerators and the light music over the speakers. You turn around to face the shelves of bottles and notice a few that are running low and need replacing. You go down the ‘employees only’ hallway to the back stockroom and grab all the bottles you need. Hugging them to your chest, you make your way back down the hallway. You walk about halfway when a figure jumps out of the supply closet to your right, causing you to jump backwards and let out a scream.

Harry’s howling laughter echoes through the hallway as you try to catch your breath and will your heart to stop racing.

You finally regain some composure and turn to fully face Harry. His laughter has reduced to occasional soft chuckles falling past his pursed lips. If your arms weren’t full, you would most likely be smacking him for scaring the shit out of you.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You do your best to give him death glare, but your voice is now shaking with laughter as well. “You’re lucky I didn’t drop any of this stuff, you idiot.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but you should have seen your face. Holy shit.” He opens his arms and slowly steps toward you to bring you in for a hug.

“Well if you’re so sorry, put these on the shelf for me.” You say as you thrust the bottles into his chest, making him grunt out a laugh.

You walk to the front with Harry trailing behind you. All you have left to do is make a few notes for Adam before finally clocking out. You’ve never been more excited for your head to hit the pillow when you get home.

As you’re making your notes, Harry is pacing about behind you, straightening out all of the bottles on the shelves. He lets out a long observant hum.

“What?”

“Just noticed this guy’s almost empty,” he holds up a bottle of tequila and swirls around what little liquor is left in it. One corner of his mouth turns up before he looks at you, “Enough left for two more shots, probably.”

“Is that so?”

“Y’ wanna find out?”

“I don’t know,” you say as you tilt your head up and tap your chin in thought “I don’t know how I feel about taking shots with people who jump out of supply closets to scare me.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that.” He’s exaggerating and drawing all of his words out as he walks over to you. He wraps his arms around you so that his hands are resting on your left shoulder and he rests the side of his head on the back of yours. “I’m sorry. Please take a shot with me.”

Although it's pointless since he can’t see your face, you roll your eyes in response, “Fine. Pour me one.”

His hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze before he moves away and reaches under the counter then puts two shot glasses onto the bar. He reaches behind him for the nearly empty bottle and pours the perfect amount into each glass. Taking them both in his hands, he extends one to you.

You don’t miss the chuckle that he lets out as you take the glass from him. After giving him a questioning look, you notice a slight blush on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Was just thinking. This,” he gestures to the two of you and the glasses you’re both holding “reminds me of the day you got into the art institute.”

Around this time a year ago, you had spent weeks pouring over your application for the San Francisco Art Institute and months after that waiting to hear anything back. When you got the acceptance email toward the end of your shift at work, Harry was the first person that you told. Just over a year ago, you were standing with Harry behind this same bar when you told him the good news. Your chest filled with warmth at his reaction. He wrapped you in a nearly suffocating hug as he loudly declared, “I told you you had a kick ass portfolio! So fuckin proud of you.”

Right after he released you from the hug, he poured each of you a shot. Harry then made the impromptu decision of doing a bar crawl after you both got off, deeming the two shots “not enough celebration”.

After a night full of slightly over the top celebrating, you were practically dragging Harry home. It wasn’t until you got to his apartment building that he realized he had left his keys and wallet at one of the bars. Not wanting to drag him back across town, you ended up bringing him back to your apartment just around the corner.

It took a lot of coaxing, but you were able to get him to drink a big glass of water before helping him brush his teeth with your spare toothbrush.

You have a lot of vague and fuzzy memories from that night, but there are two that remain crystal clear. One is the moment when you were clumsily leading him to your couch and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Wish I could kiss you.” And the other is the way your stomach dropped and your heart nearly fluttered out of control at his drunken confession.

The conversations about that night always turned into jokes about you being able to handle your liquor better than he could. His comment was never brought up by either of you. You weren’t sure if he would even remember it, or if either of you really wanted to.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “we should never be allowed to celebrate anything after that. We were miserable the next day.”

You lock eyes with him and for a split second there’s something in his eyes that you don’t quite recognize. Like a different kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before this moment.

It’s fleeting, however, because he glances down at your hands and clinks your glasses together. You tilt your heads back at the same time, feeling the burn in your throats and letting out sharp exhales once it’s passed.

Harry takes your glass from your hand and silently goes to the prep area. You hear the sink running as you finish up your notes to your boss and you clock out.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah I just need to get my-” you stop mid-sentence when you turn around to see Harry already holding out your bag that had been hanging up in the prep area. You mutter a ‘never mind’ as you take it from him.

Harry grabs his jacket from the pool table and you stroll to the front door together, turning off lights as you go.

You finally step out into the chilly nighttime air. The only noises are coming from the small scattered groups of people gathering in front of the bars on the block that are just closing.

After locking the doors, you and Harry start trudging along the sidewalk up the steep hill. If you had known that it was going to get so much colder and windier during the night, you would have brought a jacket with you. You fold your arms and grit your teeth as another cold breeze hits you from the front.

You don’t even notice Harry taking off his jacket until he’s holding it in front of your face. You pause your walking for a moment to gently take it from his hand.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“Well I’m not gonna watch you shiver all the way home.”

You frown a bit as you look at the jacket in your hands. You can still feel the warmth from Harry’s body heat on the hand that’s grasping the inside of it. Having that little bit of warmth already makes you feel better, but you hate to think that he’s going to be the one gritting his teeth against the cold.

He says your name through a chuckle and you look up to meet his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just put the jacket on and let’s get you home, yeah?”

**April 26th, 2020. 5:30am**

It should be considered a crime to be wide awake at this hour, considering the small amount of sleep you’ve gotten. The only thing you had the energy to do when you got home last night was change out of your work clothes and fall into bed. You remember glancing at your clock and reading 3:15 a.m. before your eyelids grew heavy and closed.

The reminder of Harry’s drunk confession that you thought was water under the bridge is now flooding your mind as you desperately try to fall back to sleep. You try to push down the memory of his giggles as you made the strenuous effort of finding the switch on your living room lamp while having nearly all of his body weight leaned against you for support. You try to push down the memory of his flushed cheeks in the glowing yellow light when you finally got him settled on your couch. You try to push down the memory of running your fingers through his soft curls and giving his hairline a soft kiss before going to bed. You try to think of literally anything else.

It isn’t until the very first hints of daylight enter your room that you decide to give up.

The floor is cold on your feet as you walk to your bathroom, rubbing your tired eyes.

After a quick shower and putting on your favorite t-shirt and jeans, you feel less sluggish. You focus on going through your kitchen pantry to find something for your growling stomach.

Although you wish that you were still sleeping soundly in your bed, you think of how rare it is to get to see this city both at the dead of night and when it’s slowly starting to wake up. To be able to greet the light in your living room as it dances across the pictures on your walls and you mill about with your bowl of cereal.

The pictures lined up on your walls remind you of the project that you started last week that you need new photos for. You go to your closet and get the bag that holds your digital camera. Your mind is buzzing at the thought of taking it to the park before it gets too crowded.

You put on a jacket and shoes, pull your camera bag over your shoulder, and head out into the chilly Sunday morning.

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

You round the corner of your block and start making your way down the steep hill, admiring the multicolored houses across the street that are glowing softly in the morning light. A smile spreads across your face as you reach into your bag for your camera and your fisheye lens. Once you’ve captured a few shots that you’re happy with, you move on toward the park.

You’re coming up on Harry’s building, and you instinctively glance up at the second story bay window that you know belongs to his apartment. Because this side of his building is still in the shade at this point in the day, you can see that his light is on.

“What’s he doing up?” you think to yourself. He’s always been an early riser, but considering how late you both stayed up, you would hope that he had been able to get some extra sleep.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, Harry appears in the window. His blinds are wide open, so you can clearly see him stepping up to his record player and delicately placing the needle on the vinyl. A toothbrush hangs out of his mouth.

What your eyes are more drawn to, however, is his choice of clothing, or lack thereof. He’s standing in front of his window in nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of underwear. You knew the t-shirt too well as the one he found at a thrift store years ago and became obsessed with after reading the ‘Treat People With Kindness’ logo on the front. He steps back from the record player and tilts his head back to brush his teeth. You watch as his jaw flexes and is accentuated by the light scruff of facial hair along it.

It’s becoming alarmingly clear to you that you are alone in the middle of the sidewalk, about thirty feet away from your best friend’s window, ogling him as he’s minding his own business. As much as your palms are sweating and your stomach is doing somersaults at the prospect of being spotted, you cannot bring yourself to continue walking. You wouldn’t mind becoming a permanent part of the sidewalk if it meant having this kind of view.

Harry turns and walks away from the window. You finally snap out of your daze and hurry past his window, thankful for the help of the downhill slope to move you along. Once you get to the corner of the block, you stop and lean your back against the building. Lightly smacking your forehead, you mutter out loud to yourself, “What the hell was that?”

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

The trip to the park turned out to be a perfect way to spend the morning. You ended up taking a lot of pictures of murals and flowers before the park started to get too busy.

With your favorite album playing through your headphones, your mind is now buzzing with the excitement of having new photos to edit.

Once you cross the street, you’re now standing on the corner of your block. One way would lead you once again past the window to Harry’s apartment. The other way would help you avoid another potentially awkward sighting, but was much longer and usually includes lines for overcrowded restaurants.

Keeping your head down, you continue walking straight ahead in the same direction that you came from.

As you’re hiking up the hill, you suddenly hear a voice that you know is not coming through your headphones. You turn your volume down and listen to your surroundings. Plain as day, someone behind you shouts your name. You rip your headphones out and whip around to see Harry waving at you from his window.

“Hey! You wanna come up for breakfast?”

Your feet are firmly planted to the sidewalk, much like they were about an hour ago when you stood in the same spot and ogled this man.

You opened your mouth, not knowing what to say, and pathetically jabbed your thumb in the general direction of your apartment. “Actually I… I-I was gonna-”

“I’ve got coffee from Trieste,” he says in a sing-song tone.

You internally roll your eyes and curse him for knowing that you can never deny coffee from your favorite place in town. Plus, wracking your brain for a good excuse to be on your way is becoming difficult due to the hunger pains starting up in your stomach. That bowl of cereal is only holding you over for so long.

You look up at his dimpled face and relax your shoulders, “Okay, yeah. Yeah I’ll come up.”

“I’ll unlock the door for you!” is the last thing you hear before he shuts his window and you make your way to the stairs.

You climb up to the second story and turn down his hallway. When you’re standing in front of his door, you can hear music playing.

You open the door and you’re met with the sounds of trumpets. Harry has Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer” playing on his record player. He has it just loud enough to where it won’t annoy any of his neighbors, but it still fills every corner of the living room. It’s not the first time you’ve walked into a similar scene here. You know this to be one of his favorite songs to play in the morning.

You close the door behind you and take in the state of the room as you walk through. The instrument cases are a little more organized than they had been yesterday. Smaller ones are stacked up next to his workstation and the larger ones are stacked up in the corner next to his couch. His laptop sits open on the coffee table and a haphazard stack of blank paper repair tags sat next to it.

The camera bag on your shoulder is now starting to feel heavy, so you plop down on the couch. Your ears perk up at the sound of Harry singing along with the record from the kitchen.

“You can have an aeroplane flyin’. If you bring your blue sky back.”

Following the smell of coffee, you walk over to the doorway of the small kitchen. Harry is  standing at the counter. Thankfully he is not wearing the outfit that you saw him in earlier. He’s wearing brown trousers and a cream colored flannel with black and green stripes. He also has on his signature pair of scuffed up black vans.

There is a small table and two chairs in the corner of the kitchen next to the window with a vase of sunflowers and a couple of books sitting on it. You walk over to the table to inspect the books more closely. Art as Therapy by Alain de Botton & John Armstrong and The Course of Love, also by Alain de Botton. Before you get the chance to flip them over and read the descriptions, Harry clears his throat.

“Coffee’s ready.” He sets the kettle down on the counter and dances his way over to the cupboard where he keeps his mugs.

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face, admiring his ability to always be so energetic in the mornings.

He takes the filter out of the chemex and chunks it in the trash before pouring the coffee into two mugs. The way he turns with a mug in each hand, extending one to you, is extremely reminiscent of last night. After you take the mug from his hands, he scoots past you into the living room. The volume of the music lowers to a faint background noise before he appears again in the kitchen.

“So,” he pauses to reach into the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and setting it on the counter, “what are you doing up so early? Figured you’d be in bed till noon. Seemed pretty exhausted last night.” He takes a long sip of coffee, waiting for your response.

Suddenly you’re doing everything to not look in his direction. Your eyes are shifting from the table to the flowers to the mug in your hands.

“Um… yeah I woke up at like 5:30 for some reason and couldn’t go back to sleep. So I just decided to take a walk with my camera.” Your last few words echo from your mug before you take a big sip.

Harry clicks his tongue. “M’ sorry, that sucks. Did you at least see anything interesting?”

You involuntarily gasp at his question, causing the coffee to go directly down the wrong pipe. Several harsh coughs erupt from your chest.

Harry acts quickly, muttering a quick “shit” before taking the cup from your hand and setting it on the table along with his. He steps behind you and you hear a chair scoot out from the table. His hands gently wrap around your upper arms, prompting you to have a seat. You fold over in the chair, gripping the edge of the table for stability. After a few more strong coughs, you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Harry’s fingertips rubbing soothing circles on your back sends electricity up and down your spine.

His hand slides off of your back as he steps away from you, “Alright? Want some water?” He’s already walking over to his cabinet and pulling out a glass before you respond.

Once you clear your throat, you croak out, “Yeah I’m fine, that’s fine.”

He sets the glass on the table in front of you, turns back to the carton of eggs on the counter and starts cracking some into a pan.

After taking some sips of your water, you say, “So I was going to ask you the same question. What are you doing up so early?”

“Well, funny enough, I also had to wake up around 5:30. I’ve got a client coming to pick up her trumpet this morning and I had to get everything sorted and clean up a bit before she got here.”

Nodding your head, you tease, “Oh yeah, it looks really good in there. Was starting to forget what your floor looked like.”

Your heart leaps at the sound of Harry’s belly laugh. “Wow. Wowwwwww. Already giving me a hard time. At this hour. Jesus.”

You laugh at his exaggerated reaction while he simply shakes his head.

There’s a knock at the front door. Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Must be her, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to do those?” You stand up from your spot at the table and gesture to the pan.

“Sure, that’d be great, thanks,” he says over his shoulder when he exits the kitchen.

A moment later, you hear the sound of a woman’s voice greeting Harry. It sounds like they’re just standing in his entryway because you can’t really make out what either of them are saying.

Meanwhile, you go about scrambling eggs, making toast, and getting out plates and silverware. By the time Harry is back in the kitchen, you’re already starting to put everything on the table.

You pick up the books from the table and hold them up to Harry, “Where do you want these?”

“Oh uh, I’ll just put those on the coffee table.” When you hand them off to him, he holds up the copy of Art as Therapy. “This one’s for you though, make sure you take it with you today.”

You tilt your head in question.

“Just thought it looked like something you would enjoy. Saw it when I was looking for this other one.” He holds up The Course of Love.

Before you could say anything, he’s disappeared again into the living room.

Once you’re both sitting at the table and digging into your breakfast, Harry asks, “What are you doing tonight?”

You squint your eyes at him. “I mean, I don’t really have anything planned. Why do you ask?”

“Well that client that was just here offered me two free tickets to her jazz band’s show tonight as, like, an extra ‘thank you’.” He shrugs, “Might be fun to go to.”

With a straight face, you reply, “I can’t, I’m booked tonight.”

You stare at each other for a minute in silence trying not to crack a smile, until you both start snorting.

“I know you’re free because the bar is closed and Sarah is still sick.” Harry tosses his fork on his plate and leans back in his chair like he’s just won an argument.

You mirror him by crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “What if I have plans with Mitch? Sarah’s boyfriend?”

Harry furrows his brows and looks at you, baffled, “I know who Mitch is, why’d you have to say it like that?”

“Because I knew it would throw you off.”

“Alright, I’ll just take Mitch to the concert then.”

You drop your jaw and lightly kick his leg under the table. “What time is this concert?” You ask, slipping out of your teasing tone.

“It’s at seven.” Harry leans forward and lifts his coffee from the table, holding it up to you.

You grab yours from the table and clink it with his before finishing off the remainder of your coffee.

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

Back at your apartment, you’re leaning back in your chair at the desk in your living room, waiting for your pictures from today to upload on your computer. Your hands run over the smooth blue and green cover of Art as Therapy. In the few years that you have known Harry, you’ve swapped countless book recommendations back and forth, and the bookshelves in your apartments are constantly changing due to all of the borrowing you both do. You’ve even gotten each other books for birthdays and other holidays. This is the first book that he has bought for you completely unprompted. You hadn’t even heard of the author until today, so it’s not like he heard you mention in passing wanting to read his books.

You flip the book over and read the description, then flip to the first few pages to see a statement about the authors. “Their proposal is that certain great works of art offer clues on managing the tensions and confusions of everyday life and that, approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.”

Quickly shaking yourself out of your own thoughts, you check the progress on your photos. Approximately 20 minutes remaining.

You huff, slap the book closed, and toss it on the desk before getting up and walking to your room. There’s an old shoe box on one of your shelves that you like to go through when you’re feeling sad or having a weird day, which feels about right at this moment.

You plop down on your bed and set the box in front of you, opening up the lid. The rush of nostalgia and warmth that comes over you when going through this box is overwhelming sometimes. It’s filled with miscellaneous photos that you’ve taken on your film camera over the past few years. There are some that capture your favorite buildings and murals throughout the city. There are a lot from when you went to the pride celebrations last year. The majority of the pictures in the box capture candid moments of your friends and family. These kinds of pictures are the ones that remind you of why you love photography so much and even after getting high marks on your work for the institute, these are the ones that you end up feeling the most proud of.

You see your friends from out of state standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge from the time they paid you a surprise visit. Another one shows your cousin at his college graduation. There’s one of your friend and coworker, Sarah, and her boyfriend Mitch from the day you and Harry helped them move into their new apartment, proudly holding up the keys, smiling from ear to ear.

And then there’s quite a lot of Harry. Harry playing pool at a bar across town, Harry at the beach tossing a football with Mitch, a kind of blurry one of him going crazy at an Ariana Grande concert. You laugh out loud when you find the one of him proudly wearing your dress during a drunken game of truth or dare, and the one of him making a ‘kissy’ face at you in those obnoxious Gucci sunglasses that he wore for pretty much an entire summer. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve experienced together until you go back and look at these pictures.

You’ve been flipping through them pretty quickly, but you come across one that makes you freeze. It’s from your friend’s birthday party a few months ago. You got someone to take a picture of yourself with Sarah and Mitch, but Harry decided to jump in. In the picture, Mitch is in the middle of you and Sarah, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, and Harry has his arms hugged tight around your middle and his cheek is pressed to yours. It could be seen as a form of affection, if his face wasn’t covered in icing from your friend’s birthday cake. The photo is perfectly timed to capture everyone’s shocked laughter.

Just by looking at this photo again, you can feel his smile against your cheek and his arms holding you close. It’s a feeling you’ve been wanting more of ever since that night. Maybe that’s the ‘intimate question’ you’ve been asking yourself- Do you really want more with Harry?

**April 26th, 2020. 6:58pm**

You’re sure nobody on the street could miss you and Harry. After saying quick ‘thank you’s to the uber driver, you grab hands and start jogging toward the entrance of the SFJAZZ Center- a three story building with windows wrapping all the way around. The show is supposed to start in two minutes. You would have arrived much earlier if Harry hadn’t left the tickets on his kitchen table. You’re both dodging and weaving through people on the sidewalk, you in your favorite floral dress and Harry in a bold green suit jacket.

Once in the lobby, you both reduce your pace to a brisk walk and you readjust the bag on your shoulder. Harry’s hand is still holding yours as you’re both scanning the lobby for the right place to go. You spot a couple of employees closing doors labeled ‘main hall seating’.

“Over here,” you say, pulling Harry along with you.

Luckily, you’re able to catch the ushers in time to show them your tickets and be let in. The expansive auditorium is filled with the sound of chattering people and musicians warming up their instruments.

Thankfully, your seats are in a row toward the back and to the left of the stage, so you don’t have to make too big of a scene when scooting past people. Right when you settle in, the house lights dim, the chatter rapidly dies down, and the band on the stage goes silent.

The lull is soon replaced with applause when a woman walks out and stands center stage. She introduces herself as the director of programming and welcomes the audience. “Thank you all for being here tonight. Your support means so much to this center as we continue to make music and art and do what we love to do.” She pauses to hold up a booklet in her hands. “As you may have seen in your program, tonight’s performance is a special one.”

For the first time, you glance around the room and notice almost everyone but you and Harry has a program in their lap or held in their hands.

The woman on stage continues. “Some of you may know this, and some of you may not, but April is the birth month of American jazz singer, Billie Holiday. So, to honor her legacy, this lovely band sitting behind me has put together arrangements of some of her greatest hits.” Applause fills the room once again.

“Some of the performances tonight will feature vocalists and some will be done with the band only, so I hope everyone will find something they enjoy. Now, without further ado, I present to you A Little Love, with Billie Holiday.”

There is applause for a third time, but your hands are suddenly too heavy in your lap to join in. As the director exits the stage and another woman, presumably the vocalist, takes her place, your mind is reeling at the situation you’re currently in. How have you wound up at a jazz concert dedicated to love, that you decided to attend on a whim, with your best friend that you suddenly have overwhelming feelings for?

All of the subtle signs and notions of feelings you have had over the years have turned into blaring alarms, and they’re all pointing to one person. The man sitting right next to you, who is also sitting stock still in his seat.

There’s a drumroll from the stage followed by a light and smooth saxophone solo that brings you back into the moment. The vocalist begins the captivating first verse of Billie Holiday’s You Go to My Head.

You go to my head

And you linger like a haunting refrain

And I find you spinning round in my brain

Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne

You slowly sink about three inches down into your seat. You wish you had a program now so that you could at least use it to fan your face. You reach your hand up to dab at your forehead.

At the same time Harry takes a deep breath and lightly trills his lips while itching the bridge of his nose.

The vocalist continues to sing the lyrics that are hitting you directly in the gut.

The thrill of the thought

That you might give a thought to my plea

Casts a spell over me

Still I say to myself “Get a hold of yourself”

Can’t you see that it never can be

You glance around the auditorium as much as you can without turning your head in Harry’s direction, wondering if anyone else is feeling the temperature rise or the tension that seems to be wrapped around the both of you.

You go to my head

With a smile that makes my temperature rise

Like a summer with a thousand Julys

You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

Though I’m certain that this heart of mine

Hasn’t the ghost of a chance in this crazy romance

You go to my head

Your mind is reeling yet again at the situation you’re in. This must be some kind of elaborate prank that the universe is pulling on you. You’re half expecting a spotlight to fall on you and Harry that nobody in the room would even question.

The feeling doesn’t lift as the concert goes on. Soulful songs about a lover’s eyes, falling in love, how easy it is to live when you’re in love. Even where there is not a vocalist, you seem to know what the songs are implying.

Something that comes up in your rapid stream of thoughts is the author’s note you read earlier, “approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.” You ask yourself the question again: Do you want more with Harry?

You think about the pictures of the times you’ve spent together. Crazy shifts at the bar, days in the park, breakfasts, dinners, late nights staying up talking about god knows what. You know the answer. You’ve always known the answer.

It seems like your heart has caught up with your thoughts, because it’s pounding in your chest.

Halfway through the final song of the night, you decide to steal a glance at Harry. Slowly turning your head, you peek through the corner of your eye.

A quick jolt of electricity runs through your entire body when you see that Harry already has his eyes on you. You turn your head back to the stage, but you can still feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

When thunderous applause breaks out after the final song, Harry turns his head back to the stage as you both limply clap along with the audience.

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

This is the most quiet car ride of your life. There isn’t even any music being played in the background. The only words that have been exchanged between you and Harry since the concert ended were when he asked you if it was okay for the uber to just drop you both at your building and you answered with a simple ‘sure’.

There are so many feelings swirling around in you that you don’t know what to do with, and you definitely don’t want all of them to spill out in this stranger’s car, so you keep your jaw clenched as you look out of the window.

The car comes to a stop outside of your building and you both mutter ‘thank you’s as you climb out. You both silently make your way through the lobby, up the stairs, and down the hallway to your door.

Just last night you were making the same trip. You were making light jokes about wanting to steal Harry’s jacket and he was joking back, accusing you of wanting him to freeze to death. You had to remind each other not to laugh so loud so you wouldn’t disturb anyone. Now the only sound in the hallway is your shoes on the floor.

Once you reach your door, you open your bag and start digging for your keys. “Thanks, um, thanks for inviting me. It was a really good show.” You find your keys and push them into the lock before turning your eyes to Harry.

He has one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… Yeah it was... it was fun. Glad you could come with me.” He moves his hands from their places and awkwardly moves his arms out for a hug.

You smile and let out a sharp exhale through your nose at the awkwardness of this whole situation, but you gladly reciprocate the hug. Your arms completely wrap around each other, your hands tightly gripping his jacket. You can smell his cologne, like ginger and honey and cedar, and it’s making your head spin. You embrace for a few seconds and then release each other.

Harry sighs, “Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Harry shoves his hands in his pockets and slowly takes a few steps to turn away.

You turn the key in the lock, then turn your head to watch Harry take his first few steps away from you. You don’t want him to get any further.

“Harry?”

He stops and turns around to face you. “Yeah?”

You cannot believe the question that’s coming to your mind, but it’s the only thing that’s been coherent enough to put into words. You gulp and take a deep breath before asking, “Do you… do you still wish you could kiss me?”

You watch about three different emotions pass across Harry’s face. His mouth opens, his head tilts to the side, then his mouth closes and his eyes shift to the floor.

You feel a flood of regret. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. That was stupid. He doesn’t remember. Just play it off.

You know your face is flushed with embarrassment as you speak softly, “I’m sorry. I just. That night that you were really drunk and I brought you back here, you said that you wish- that you wished y-”

Hearing Harry say your name stops your rambling. “Don’t be sorry. I know what I said.” He’s eyeing you cautiously and taking a couple of steps toward you again. “And… yeah. I still wish I could kiss you. Felt that way for… a while now.”

Tears are brimming your eyes as you look into his, trying to absorb what he’s just said. Then it’s almost like the floor beneath you tilts in his direction, nudging you to move forward until you’re standing directly in front of him. You can smell his cologne again.

With your eyes still locked into his, you slowly raise your hands to place them on the back of his neck, thumbs stroking the corners of his jaw.

After taking a shaky breath, you whisper, “I wish I could kiss you, too.”

Harry gulps and shifts his eyes down to your lips. He takes a deep breath through his nose before you feel his hand lightly grip your waist and his other hand takes a similar position on your neck.

You both stand there for a few breaths, eyes roaming over each other’s faces.

You start to lean in and then stop about half way and close your eyes. You’re both just waiting to see who will close the gap.

After a moment, you feel Harry’s grip on your neck and waist tighten and you feel him leaning in. Then his lips are on yours. They’re on yours again and again. You tilt your heads to deepen the kisses and he takes a step toward you. You follow his lead until your back is pressed against your door.

As much as it pains you to do so, you have to stop so you can catch your breath. You reach one of your hands into his hair and lightly pull him away. Both of you are breathing  in sync.

Once your breathing is evened out, you lock eyes with Harry. Your heart flutters when you exchange shy but knowing smiles and his thumb gently strokes your cheek.

After clearing your throat, you move your hand to your door knob. “Do you want to come in?”

Harry glances at your hand then returns his eyes to yours. He purses his lips and takes a sharp breath in. “I just want to know what you want.”

What just happened a few seconds ago already seems monumental to you. After the emotional roller coaster of this day, you’re not sure whether or not you’re ready for more tonight.

You take your hand from the doorknob and run it along his shoulder to return it to its previous position on his neck. “Honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted from today.” You watch as Harry nods his head in understanding. “I think all I want tonight is to hold you,” you notice the softness in his eyes, the same softness that you noticed for a fleeting second in the bar last night. “And keep kissing you.” This makes a lopsided smirk pop onto his face. “And I want to talk in the morning. About us.”

Harry leans in and presses a sweet peck to your lips. “I think we can do that.”

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

If anyone would have told you that your day was going to end with you and Harry in your bed, your head on his chest, and him running his fingers soothingly over your back, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“Harry?” you say softly, just as your eyelids are starting to get heavy.

His fingers stop for a moment, “Yeah?”

Thinking over the sequence of events that led you to where you are now, you start to erupt into sleepy giggles. “Did you know that the performance was gonna be,” you pause, trying to find the right word, “that?”

Harry lets out a deep belly laugh and when you glance up at him, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t have planned that if I tried.”

Before you know it, you’re both laughing uncontrollably, recounting the insane timing of the whole situation.

Harry rolls to his side so that he’s facing you and places a lingering kiss on your lips. “I’ll have to tell that client that any repairs she wants are on the house now.”

You throw your head back laughing and he pulls you into his chest, smothering your neck with kisses before resting his chin on top of your head.

If this is all you could have for the rest of your life, just a little love from each other, you would never want anything more.

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

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[draken-rotzi]

Bug Man x Reader Part One*

Read on AO3

SO, wanted to write something of this topic bc we all need some more Musical!BJ in our lives, it’s a nice comfort ngl, I enjoyed writing it and hope you do too c:

(Got carried away so here's the first half while I edit the second one in the meantime, it takes a bit to get to the main part we all want to read forgive mE it's better in th next one believeme)

I'd love some feedback since I haven't written anything since 2019 ;v; some wordings might seem odd since my brain speaks spanish first english second

Summary; Old boring university life and a broken but hopeful heart meet the supernatural and whacky demon/ghost with the most, reader-chan needs to get out from a toxic relationship and what's a better help than a magic dead man? Cutting ties might seem easier when someone else arrives and flips your world upside down with no warning.

Mostly fluff, bits of angst l8r

Female reader, but tried to not give any other specifics to the character themselves, OCs appear

It was a fresh autumn afternoon, birds still chirped before migrating to warmer areas for the winter, the wind was cold but nice, not yet freezing but enough for people to wear light coats. You sit on a school desk, a class about taxes and fees, you drift off a bit looking at the window while half-listening.

You lived in a medium but popular city, it was a great place, with nice, kind people for the most part, huge malls, restaurants and lots of places to go out with friends or alone.

...

"Miss ___? Care to answer this equation here for the class?" The teacher asks, a tall, slender woman that radiated authority, it made some students shiver in times like this with a direct question.

"Oh? Yeah- sure miss Adams" You replied, while trying not to look confused since you just missed the topic, hopefully you remembered from the last lesson by the time you walked up to the blackboard and took the marker to write.

...

After class, you were walking with your friends to the cafeteria next to the main exit to wait for an uber to arrive; your side job as a freelance wasn't good enough yet to afford a car, but it helped pay the bills and to have enough for a bit more more than the basic needs.

Your two best friends at college were Itai and Rob. Itai was a funny dude, with a darker tone on his skin, not so tall and full of charisma. Rob was a bit more collected, but still a lot of fun to be around, being the voice of reason for you three most of the time, emphasis in most, because sometimes he got carried away too.

"Man I hate that class, I don't understand a thing! Why do we even need math?" Itai tells the group, sounding annoyed as usual, he was a simple guy, but simple guys need a degree too, to secure a better job.

"Well if you paid attention instead of eating that cold baguette in class you won't be that confused my man" Rob replies, laughing a bit at the end

"At least you weren't asked to do math in front of the class" You sigh, putting down your backpack and sitting on a table next to the building's exit, looking at your phone to know how much time was left for the driver to arrive, around 10 minutes.

"Yeah everyone felt so bad for you, but hey, if you’ll be daydreaming at least look at the front instead of the window next time, it might help you" Rob said while opening a bottle of apple juice, his favorite, he wouldn't drink any other thing, he was probably 60% apple juice after years of drinking it that often.

A few minutes passed by, the three friends chatting about the day's events, their plans for the weekend, and how to get the next assignment done. A figure appeared behind you putting a hand on your shoulders.

"Well hello ladies!" A man chirped, you turned around laughing softly

"Hey yourself!" you replied "Already off?"

"Yeah I've got the last hour free so I'm gonna head out to Kris' place, we'll play some games and work on that big project I told you the other day"

"Great, have fun! You say hi to Kris from me yeah?"

"Sure thing, see you later!" He says with a squeeze of his hand on your shoulder, then a quick pat on the head, turning around to leave.

"Bye, take care Nick!" you say as the man walks out of the cafeteria's door waving a hand.

Silence lingers for a bit until Itai breaks it

"Hey so, you're still going out with him?" He says with a crooked smile and a nervous look, Rob has a similar expression

"Yeeeah... it's been okay for some time now, you know? Hah" You look down for a second, pondering "Maybe this time is the good run?" Uncertainty fills the question, but you still smile to your friends.

Nikolas wasn't the model boyfriend, at least not for your friends; he was full of sweet words, hugs and kisses, only in private places though. When it came to the campus he treated you just like any other friend.

There was a small reason, according to him, he wanted to wait a bit more to make it public, get to know each other better, just to be certain from both sides.

That was the excuse a year ago.

It wasn't like he was out and flirting with other people, not at all, but one could expect to be treated like a love partner after so much time and moments together, you’ve gone to the movies, to dinner, to each other's houses, hell your families knew you two were dating, it just wasn't more than the bare minimum from him, seemed more like a thing someone does if they have free time, not make time for that thing, the thing being the relationship.

It seemed to be only a problem of neglect and apathy, probably, though you were so dumbly in love with him at first, you have been hoping and asking for a change since the relationship escalated to more than just holding hands and light kisses.

"I don't think anything's gonna change, he's been stalling for a whole year now" Itai mumbled, looking at Rob, he nodded in agreement

"Yeah, just dump him already, you deserve way better, you give him everything you got and he just throws the leftovers at you."

"I guess, but we're going out this weekend! You know he doesn't like going out often"

"With you" Rob adds

You hesitate a reply, it was true, most of the times you asked him to go out for a change, he was either too busy or decided to change the event the same day, turning it into a make out session in his house every time. Even though you saw each other 2 days every week, you have seen him go out with his friends more often, on actual enrichment outside activities.

"I know..." you sigh " I'll think about it, I'll try to talk with him about it next time”

Both of your friends let out a small groan of annoyance, they knew you weren't gonna do it, or that he'll just brush it off as always, between the lines of 'oh you're overreacting'

"Ah my ride's here!" You got up from the table and grabbed your backpack, tossing it over one shoulder.

"See he can't even give you a lift to your place!" Itai teased, they knew how you felt about the whole situation, but joking around sometimes made it a bit less bitter.

"Ha-ha, you know we live in opposite ends of the city! Besides none of you give me a ride either" you said while sticking a tongue out on your way outside the cafeteria

"Yeah because you live at the ends of the earth for some weird reason!" Rob joked back

Everyone said their quick goodbyes, and after a calm ride back home you remembered something just as you were locking the door, tossing your backpack into the living room’s couch you walked over to your room.

You flopped onto the bed, looking at your phone you opened some pending messages on the family group chat, apparently a distant relative of yours had died, and the family was gonna hold a small funeral tomorrow morning on the local cemetery, you didn’t enjoy those kind of events since you’d get really emotional, but since it was something really small, no more than 20 people, it was private and most likely no strangers would see you cry over someone you barely knew.

Tomorrow was saturday so it was okay to spend one free morning humoring your family.

After some mindless browsing on your phone, it was already 12:30am, you haven’t even got off your sneakers since you got home, you did a quick self-cleanup in the bathroom, tossing today’s clothes to the side to change into an oversized shirt with no pants as a makeup pijamas, it got a bit warmer in the afternoon so you wanted to enjoy wearing something light before winter fully arrived, getting under the sheets and you were out fast, maybe from all the overthinking of what’d tomorrow might bring, you’ve forgotten what are funerals like.

But there was certainly no way you’d know what would happen at all the next day

...

The event was simple, thankfully there was not much crying, seemed like everyone accepted already what had happened, some kind of illness you heard, at least they weren’t suffering anymore and they’ve come to terms with everyone close to them, that was nice you thought, it sure felt a bit heavy in there, as usual for funerals. After the ceremony, the family offered a barbeque in the departed’s honor to bright up the mood a bit; right at the cementery, maybe it was cheaper than renting a place for it.

Free tasty food was something only an idiot would decline, so you spent some time doing small talk with the relatives you knew best, but still you mostly just listened and ate in silence.

You saw a glimpse of color and movement out of the corner of your eye, since everyone was wearing dark tones it stood out, turning your head there was just an empty plastic table with some half-full plates and glasses, still, you felt a shiver up your spine, it was probably the weather.

When you looked back at your phone's clock it was already 6 pm, guess dad jokes and food made time fly, you said your goodbyes and condolences to everyone and headed out, you were still at the cemetery, so you had to call a ride back home, the driver dropped you near a convenience store just around the corner of your apartment, since you needed to buy a snack for dinner, on sundays you usually had takeout, so no need to worry much about it right now.

_______________________________________________________

“I know I didn’t imagine anything, that breather saw me at the cemetery! we even locked eyes for a second! It may work this time, just gotta get closer while they're alone”

_______________________________________________________

…

Walking down the street, humming a bit to some music and a bag of snacks in hand, dusk started to set, some stars could be seen and the sky was a beautiful fuchsia tone with oranges and purples mixed in the clouds. On instinct, you took your phone out of your jeans pocket to take a picture of the cute sky.

Just as you took a couple of pictures, to make sure at least one was good to share, something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye again

You felt a shiver like a cold wind out of nowhere, similar as to when a car drives a bit too close to someone on winter, but there was not even one driving car on the street.

"Oof, should get back now, it's getting colder" picking up the peace to get home faster-

A piece of paper slapped you in the face

“EW- wind trash” you muttered while grabbing what seemed to be a flyer, and it flew indeed.

You naturally took a closer look at it when you took it into your hands and out of your face, it was a very faded print, with an image of an… insect? man? holding a hammer over a small house and people, you chuckled, it was a funny irony cartoon, a bug crushing people.

Half of the flyer was unreadable because of some liquid or dirt, already dry but you couldn’t read what was supposed to be, written under the drawing was the end of an ad;

“Ghostly services one name away!

RESIDENTIAL - INDUSTRIAL - COMMERCIAL

Call BETELGEUSE

BETELGEUSE

BETELGEUSE!”

“Betelgeuse? ...Like that one star?” There was that shiver again, Halloween was a week ago, so this kind of paper seemed normal to be hanging around with the wind.

As you walked down the street, some lights started flickering, the cold wind seemed stronger and the sky was a deep dark purple now, strange, it was supposed to be clear dark blue by now, fall nights came quickly this time of the year, still it didn't feel like the usual night. You were just around the corner of your street when the closest light bulb exploded and zapped with a loud 'CRASH', making you stop for a second cowering from the shards

"What the-!? No one told me we'd be getting winter thunderstorms sooner what the eff" muttering swears you made a run to your apartment, scurrying for the door keys in the process, lights kept flashing and the wind made windows sing a high 'oooo' noise, you have seen this kind of weather before but no one would like to be outside when it happened, nervously and quickly you finally fit the key in the lock and opened the door, hurrying inside and closing it behind, a loud bang thundered through the silent room, the unexpected storm slamming against the walls and windows, you left the lights on before going out.

After a minute it seemed to calm down, wind turning into a breeze and the sky now it's usual black, no stars in the sky.

You let out a sigh and walked to the counter to drop your keys, the phone and your purse, you had to make sure all the windows were closed for the night, luckily it was Saturday, so no need to go out tomorrow on that crazy weather.

Windows secured, you changed into your winter pajamas, a gray pair of pants with a pattern of a cat on toast and eggs, with a pastel blue loose shirt. Making your way to the kitchen you decided a light snack would be enough for tonight, after that run and emotion on the way back home you had no energy to cook a proper dinner, not even microwave, it was also too late for it anyways you thought.

You put the snack bowl and a cup of water on the kitchen counter, looking to grab your phone. You noticed you still had the dirty flyer, forgot to drop it between the commotion maybe?

Placing it aside and unlocking your phone screen, you opened the ‘best friend's’ chat group

You. 'Hey guys, did you get any of that weird winter storm action today after school?'

Rob. 'Nah, it was a clear sky for me'

Itai. 'Same, also I was asleep all afternoon'

You. 'Strange, I got caught on this whirlwind on my way back home from the store, just my luck I guess >:('

Both of the boys. 'Lol yea'

Putting the phone down and chomping on some of the snacks, you thought about the events, it was indeed a clear sky earlier, only a couple of common clouds you took pictures of before it. You grabbed the phone again, quickly to see if any of the photos looked good.

"Pleasepleaseplease" you muttered in excitement, it was a very cute view, hopefully one picture captured it nicely.

And they did, a couple looked stunning, you smiled, thinking at least it was worth getting your hair all messed up by the wind, you were about to delete one picture it since it was blurry when you noticed a different kind of blur, it was gray with splashes of green in the corner, similar to what you saw at the funeral.

"There was nothing green on the other pictures, was it?" you looked through the other photos and they were pretty normal, full of pink, purple and blue from the sunset.

You looked back at the flyer

"Betelgeuse, betelgeuse, betelgeuse huh" You said in a playful tone, grabbing the torn paper from the counter, you felt a shiver, a strong one this time, well that was the opposite of a calming experience, but still the word felt strange when you said it, it wasn't like you hadn't said before, Orion was a popular constellation, and the Betelgeuse star was on it; but this time the air inside had a tense feeling.

All the lights went off after a second "Now a blackout? What's with today ugh" picking up your phone to use as a flashlight, after a couple of seconds before you could turn it on, all the lights came back again, but you almost had a heart attack when you saw someone standing in the center of the living room, enveloped in a green mist.

"FUCK wh- WHO THE FUCK-" you stuttered before turning around and grabbing the closest thing to use as a weapon, a wooden spoon used for beating eggs this morning "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? WHO ARE YOU? GET OUT!"

The figure was a man, taller than you, dressed in a striped black and white suit, dark hair with green tints at the end, a wicked smile plastered on his face, he took a look around, then back to you, endless chills went down your spine when you met his eyes, you could feel the tense aura from before growing stronger, anticipating, colder.

"Well who might I be? You should know, you called my name baby! Glad to make some business with you tonight!" He said as he extended a hand and walked, floated? quickly towards a paralized you, frozen in place, you only managed to put the spoon up in self defense from whomever this man could be, the lights were out for just a few seconds, was he inside the apartment all this time?

"S-stop right there you!" tried to threaten the man with the wooden tool, he didn't seem to notice nor care, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, then placing a sloppy kiss in your face, petrified, you shivered and gripped the spoon harder, he felt oddly cold.

...Did he just kiss you? Who does he think he is??

"No no, no stopping now! We just got started cakes, and now that you said my name three times, I can finally interact with you and everything here in the world of the living! Gotta say thanks it's been real boring being invisible for so long lemme tell ya-"

*WHACK*

You hit the man in the head with the wooden spoon as hard as you could.

...the spoon broke.

The man's smile grew wider

[walkerwords]

“Careful You” Part 1 of 2 - Shane x F!Reader, Daryl x F!Reader

PART II

Request from anonymous:  A Shane x reader x Daryl where reader and Shane we’re together since the beginning but reader realized he’s becoming an ass and Daryl (who the reader secretly likes) says “I know you ain’t in love with him” pretty please??? Thank you!!!! 

Word Count: 5063

Warning: Cursing, Violence

Song I Wrote To: “Careful You” by TV On The Radio

Note: So yes! This will be a two-part request story. I got hella carried away with this one and I didn’t wanna post the whole thing so part 1 today and part 2 tomorrow! I’m sorry if ya like Shane but hes an asshole in this at times. It jumps around a bit from the quarry to the cdc to the highway to the greene farm. The real emotional stuff is in part two so I hope yall like this. reminder: I may not fill every request, ill only pick the ones I know I can make somethin good, but still send them!

------

You began to notice a change in Shane when Rick Grimes was reunited with his family. 

Before the world turned, you, Shane, Rick, and Lori were the best of friends. It was always double dates after work and the four of you planning Carl’s birthday parties. It was Rick and Lori and Shane and you, no matter what. Shane Walsh wasn’t an easy man to love, but love him, you did. 

The first time you saw him it was at a bar in downtown Atlanta. Rick and Shane were out in the city for a weekend to celebrate some kind of achievement they got from the Academy. You had noticed his dark hair and dashing smile from across the room and as soon as your eyes met, you were done. Shane Walsh became your person and you never thought anything would get in between the two of you. And nothing did...until the end of the world.

You weren’t an idiot, you knew about Shane and Lori. Hell, you probably knew about his attraction to her before she did. You ignored it the best you could before the world ended, but now it was hard to ignore the fact that your boyfriend, the man you loved, was in love with another woman.

A married woman. 

Then when Rick stepped out of that truck and Carl ran from Lori’s arms, the ground rocked beneath your feet. When you had hugged him once his family had let go, it was more than relief that cascaded over you, it was gratitude. With Rick back, there wouldn’t be time for Shane to gawk at his best friend’s girl, let alone sneak off into the woods with her. Hopefully, things would start to go back to normal. 

However, whenever Lori was alone, Shane was still there. He would be watching her, looking out for Carl, and he’d do it right in front of Rick. Rick didn’t seem to notice and if he did, he ignored it and acted as if everything was the way it once was. It pissed you off to see him act so naive, but you figured he didn’t want to start anything. The last thing any of you needed was in-fighting within the group. 

However, it didn’t take long for said in-fighting to start. Especially once Daryl Dixon came back from his hunt. You had met both of the Dixon brothers the day they arrived at the camp. Merle was an asshole and immediately began hitting on you. Shane had shut that down within a few seconds, making sure the older Dixon knew that you were his girl and to keep his paws and his mouth to himself. It was one of the only times Shane had claimed you in front of the group. 

As for Daryl, you weren’t sure about where his head was at. He followed his brother closely and you figured he had been doing so his entire life. Daryl was his brother’s opposite. While he still had a mouth on him when he did happen to speak up, he didn’t purposefully inject himself into conversations or make lewd remarks at the women in the camp. He kept his head down and his crossbow up when it was warranted. He was also great at hunting and had taken the job of getting food for the group.

Carl had once told you that he thought Daryl was “cool”, but that he kind of scared him. You had laughed and assured the kid, whom you considered a nephew, not to worry. Dixon may be a bit rough around the edges, but he was harmless. Though you made sure to tell him to steer clear of Merle and Carl didn’t argue about that.

The other thing you noticed about Daryl was that he always seemed to know where you were. You had noticed him watching you in the camp. At first, it was simple glances here and there and then his eyes started to linger more and more. You considered telling him not to due to how Shane normally reacted whenever another man looked at you, but whenever you turned to look at your boyfriend, his eyes would be on Lori and you would give up and go talk to Andrea or Amy to pass the time. 

You had only spoken to Daryl a couple of times. Once when you had run into him as he walked back to camp carrying rabbits on a line. You heard a rustle in the trees and pulled your weapon, a police-issued pistol Shane had given you after the Turn. Daryl froze as the barrel became trained on him. You dropped it immediately. “Shit, sorry,” you had said. 

“Careful where ya point that thing, girl,” Daryl had scoffed. “Don’t need my damn head blown off cause ya trigger happy.” You had rolled your eyes and holstered your gun. 

“Such a charmer, Dixon,” you told him and left him with his fresh kill. That night after your run-in in the woods was when he first started watching you. The other times you had spoken to him were just in passing and it was always when both Merle and Shane weren’t there. It seemed like your friendship, if you could call it that, was only acknowledged when the alpha males in both of your lives took a hike. And while it bothered you, you accepted it. It’s just the way the world was now. 

On the day that Rick told you all that they had left Merle in Atlanta, you knew Daryl was going to be pissed and he definitely was. You watched from the doorway to the RV as Daryl yelled at Rick. The emotion was clear on his face as he thought about his brother being chained to the roof like an animal as he waited to be eaten by Walkers. 

When Daryl had thrown a punch and Shane placed him in the chokehold, that is when you stepped in. You shoved Rick back and knocked Shane’s feet from under him. Daryl and Shane went down hard on the ground and Daryl shoved out of Walsh’s arms. “Stop it!” you yelled, getting between the men. “None of this alpha-male bullshit is helping anyone. Rick,” you said, looking at him, “you screwed up. Merle screwed up. It was bound to happen at some point! So instead of acting like idiots, do something.” You then turned and offered your hand to Daryl who took it and you helped him to his feet.

You watched as Daryl stormed off and without thinking, you followed him, ignoring Shane’s calls. You found him as he exited his tent on the edge of the camp. He was throwing things into a backpack and gathering up his bolts for his bow. “Daryl,” you said. He looked up at you and scoffed. 

“Don’t need yer sympathy, girl,” he shot at you. “Don’t need ya fightin’ my battles either. I can handle yer damn boyfriend.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” you said. “Shane is a hothead and yeah, Rick can be an asshole, but they mean well.”

“Yer friend Rick left my brother to die!” he yelled, pointing over your shoulder. 

“I know,” you said, trying to calm him down, but Daryl marched up to you, getting in your face and looking you over.

“You know nothin’,” he snarled in a low voice before pushing past you, knocking into your shoulder. You pushed your hands into your hair as you took a  deep breath. 

“(Y/N)!” you turned to see Shane walking towards you. 

“What now?” you asked, not wanting to start another argument. 

“You need to stay away from Dixon,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Excuse me?” you asked, mirroring his stance. “I don’t need to do anything, Walsh,” you said. “He’s pissed about Merle. What if it was me or Rick that was left on that rooftop? You’d be pretty pissed too.”

“Don’t loop me in with him,” Shane said with a touch of disgust. You rolled your eyes. “What?”

“I’m just sick of people acting like there aren’t worse problems out there than a few petty arguments or having to be with people you don’t like.” You relaxed your arms and reached for his hands and he let you. You squeezed Shane’s hands tight in your own, looking into his eyes. “Shane, there are monsters walking around and we need to start thinking about how to protect our people from them. How to protect the kids like Carl and Sophia.” 

“What do you think I’ve been doin’?” he asked, his voice softer. “That’s all I’ve been tryin’ to do, (Y/N).” 

“I know, but sometimes you try to take on too much by yourself. Let others take some of the weight, okay? I’m here and now so is Rick. You have Dale and Glenn who are always willin’ to help. Lori, too. Stop trying to be Superman.” Shane looked at you for a moment before he nodded. He then tugged you forward and kissed you firmly. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead on yours. 

“Rick is gonna take Daryl back, go look for Merle,” Shane said quietly.

“Are you goin’ with?” you asked. 

“No, I’m stayin’ here to protect the camp,” he then leaned back and looked at you with a fierce look in his eyes. “And so are you.” You knew there was no point in arguing so with a sigh you nodded. He pressed another kiss to your lips before leaving you alone. As Shane walked away, you caught Daryl watching you from where he stood next to Glenn. You couldn’t read his expression, but there was an intensity to it that had you turning away from him. 

However, there was a feeling that his eyes remained fixed on you even as you headed into the tent you shared with Shane. 

-------

Of course, it wasn’t long until things got worse. 

While Daryl, Glenn, Rick, and the others were out looking for Merle, Shane was following Lori around like a lost dog while you distracted Carl, trying to keep his mind off his father leaving again. When you had first met the smallest Grimes, he took to you immediately. You weren’t just Uncle Shane’s girlfriend, Carl considered you family as well. 

It was Carl who you were sitting with when the Walkers entered the camp. You heard the screams of panic first and you moved. Grabbing Carl by his collar, you pushed him behind you as you watched Andrea’s sister, Amy, get taken down by a Walker. Carl clutched the back of your jacket as you pulled your own weapon, taking aim at the monsters that converged on the quarry. 

Shane was there in a second and he took out all the Walkers that surrounded the RV. He then pushed all the kids towards the vehicle, locking them inside as the rest of you aimed at the Dead. Only a moment later, shots were coming from another direction. Rick and the others came through the woods, their guns blazing. Their sudden appearance caused you to miss the Walker stumbling towards you. You raised your gun as it grabbed your shoulder, but a bolt flew past your ear and struck the Walker that clung to you. Daryl ran past you, giving you a once over before taking aim again. 

Snapping out of your shock, you finished off the rest of the Walkers that feasted on your new comrades. A cry pulled your attention as you saw Carol staring at her now-dead husband. You had no remorse for Ed, he wasn’t a good man at all, but the heartbreak on both Carol and Sophia’s faces made you pause.

Once the Walkers were down and people had calmed down, you searched for Shane. You found him by the RV, moving the kids out and away from the body that lay before it. You didn’t need to look closer to know it was Amy. You turned away, looking for Carl and felt relief when you saw him with his parents as the three of them embraced. Looking back over your shoulder you saw Shane and how he watched the Grimes family. The envy in his eyes made you uneasy. He looked at the man he considered his brother as a rival now even though Lori was never his, to begin with. Again, you shoved down your feelings and went to help move the bodies out of the camp. 

It was morning by the time everyone had sorted between the Dead. Two piles. One for friends to be buried and the other full of Walkers that were to be burned. You didn’t see the point in either practice. You knew that if you walked down the hill and onto the roads, bodies were strewn everywhere. It had simply become the new normal. However, you knew it was their way of trying to find some normalcy in the new screwed up world, but you couldn’t see it the way they could. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Andrea as she knelt over Amy’s body. You knew that she would turn any time now. It was already happening and it made you sick to think about someone you knew becoming one of those things. It was all just a bit too much at that moment. 

You excused yourself and headed to the far side of the camp, settling down on a log, leaning your forearms on your knees. You took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the memory of the screams of people being torn apart. The log shifted as someone took a spot next to you. You figured it was Shane so you ignored him. However, when you spotted the crossbow on the ground between their feet, you relaxed and turned to look at Daryl. 

“Thanks for last night,” you said, breaking the silence. He grunted a response that you had become accustomed to. “What happened?” you asked, not needing to elaborate further. Everyone noticed that only one Dixon brother came back. 

“He’s gone,” Daryl muttered, “cut his own damn hand off to get out of the cuffs.” Your brows shot up at that, but you weren’t that surprised. It sounded like something Merle Dixon would do. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him, turning your face back towards the camp as Glenn dragged more bodies through the camp. 

“What she waitin’ for?” Daryl asked as he looked at Andrea. 

“People cope differently,” you said. “Maybe she just needs to see it for herself.”

“Don’t make sense,” he mumbled. 

“I don’t get it either,” you sighed, “Dead is dead. Whatever this is…” you waved your hand vaguely at the Walker corpses, “They just need to be put down. Amy doesn’t deserve to become a monster.”

“I could probably hit her from here,” Daryl said, toeing his bow, but you shook your head. 

“She nearly ripped Rick’s head off when he mentioned putting her down. We don’t need any more damn fighting,” you said with a warning tone. Daryl nodded and then was silent for a bit. 

“I agree with ya, ya know?” Daryl said after a minute. 

“About what?” you asked. 

“Nobody deserves to be a Walker,” he clarified. “I wouldn’t want someone to wait, ya know?” 

“I do,” you said, understanding. “Make me a deal, Dixon. If I get bit, you shoot me right away. Don’t let me turn,” you said, offering your hand. Daryl looked at you and then took your hand in his, gripping it tightly. 

“Only if ya return the favor,” he said and you nodded. You shook hands and then let go, feeling Shane’s eyes on you. “Yer boy keeps starin’,” Daryl said. 

“Yeah,” you said before you stood up, brushing off your jeans. “I’m holdin’ you to that promise.” He nodded to you again and you left him alone to his thoughts.

------

When Rick and Shane decided to go to the CDC, you were less than thrilled. 

The last thing you wanted was to go back into the city. Considering the things you saw there the last time you were there, it wasn’t the most desirable plan. However, you knew that you were outnumbered, and with Jim trying to fight the infection, you went along with it.

Everyone knew that Jim wasn’t long for the world. The fever took him fast and you knew there wasn’t a cure. If there was one, every street in Atlanta wouldn’t be crawling with Walkers and littered with half-eaten bodies. Again, you also knew that it was all about optimism and Rick felt that this was the right choice. 

Sitting in the RV, you leaned against Shane. He kept his arm wrapped around you and rubbed your arm and down the side of your thigh. It was nice to just sit with him for once instead of feeling the distance that had began to deepen between the two of you. Shane rested his head on your shoulder, kissing the place your neck met your shoulder and you sighed, resting your head against his chest. Carl was making kissing faces at the both of you and you stuck your tongue at him causing him to laugh. 

“You trying to steal my girl, Grimes?” Shane teased the kid.

“(Y/N) likes me better!” Carl joked causing Shane to chuckle. He gripped you tighter, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Easy gentlemen,” you said with a smile. “I think we both know that Lori and I are the true soulmates.” Lori laughed at that. 

“I’ll take that,” she laughed.

It was an easy ride from there on until Jim got worse. You all went from laughing and joking to feeling somber as Daryl, Rick, and Shane helped Jim off the road and under a tree. When they tried to hand him a weapon, Jim shook his head. Rick and Shane left him, giving him a final goodbye, but Daryl stalled, looking down at his bow and the dying man. He then turned and started to walk back to the truck. You stepped in his path, a pleading look in your eyes. He shook his head. 

“It’s his choice, (Y/N),” Daryl said, knowing what you wanted to say. Daryl pushed past you as Jim closed his eyes. You fought the urge to yell as you made your way back into the RV. Instead of sitting back down with Shane, you went to the back and laid down, trying to drown out everything around you. You fell asleep as the RV rumbled beneath you, getting some decent rest for the first time in weeks. 

Shane lightly shook you awake when the caravan finally came to a stop. The look on his face made you sit up quickly. “What is it?” you asked. 

“Just...prepare yourself,” he said and offered his hand. You took it and he led you out of the RV. The smell was what hit you first and then you saw the source. Bodies were everywhere. Lori and Carol kept their arms around their children as your group moved through the rotting corpses. Daryl and Rick headed up the group while you and Shane took the rear, all of your weapons ready to fire if needed. 

“I don’t like this,” you whispered to Shane as you stepped over another body. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya safe, (Y/L/N),” he joked, poking you in the ribs. 

“It’s not funny, Shane,” you chastised. “I don’t like being out in the open like this. We’re vulnerable, especially with the kids.” 

“Everything is gonna be fine,” Shane assured you. He winked at you and you pushed ahead of him as you started to hear groans and shuffling of the Dead as they noticed you moving towards the shuttered building. Daryl began taking them out while Rick yelled at the cameras. Lori urged her husband to leave it. Rick continued to yell, begging that whoever was inside to open the doors because they had children and they were desperate. You wanted to yell at him to shut up as more Walkers kept coming out of the shadows. 

You stumble over a corpse, nearly going down when Carol caught your arm and pulled you back up. Daryl stepped in front of you then, covering you, Carol, and Sophia. Rick was still yelling and that was when Shane started too. He called to Rick, trying to get him to retreat, but before any of you could make your way back to the cars, the metal shudders slid open with blinding lights. You gawked at the sight and then you felt hands tugging you along as Shane gripped your wrist and pulled you through the mess of dead bodies and into the safety of the CDC.

------

Doctor Jenner was an odd one and you didn’t trust him. 

Glenn, however, was thrilled at the promise of hot water, and then when the wine was cracked open, everybody loved Jenner. Even Daryl had a smile on his face as he drank wine and laughed with the others, his Georgian accent getting thicker with every sip. Shane drank deeply as he sat at the table next to you, his hand gripping your leg under the table. Your glass remained full as you occasionally swirled it in your hand. You figured someone had to be sober when eventually everything went to shit. 

Daryl filled up Glenn’s glass again as T-Dog went for thirds. And while you were worried about things and just trying to stay calm, it was nice to see your friends and family laughing for the first time in weeks. You offered Shane the rest of your wine and he drank greedily. “Thanks, babe,” he said, kissing you. You could taste the alcohol on his lips as he kissed you and leaned his head against yours. He downed the rest of the wine and you caught Daryl looking at you. When your eyes met his, he quickly looked away and took a long pull from the bottle in his hands. The whole back and forth was starting to get tiring.

Eventually, it was time for some much-needed sleep. It would be the next morning when Jenner started explaining everything so you all headed to your new beds for the night. You and Shane pushed into a vacant room, pulling off your boots. Laying in bed, you stretched out, enjoying the feel of a proper mattress under you for the first time since the world ended. Shane stumbled over to the bed, dropping down beside you. He rolled over and braced his elbowd on either side of you. He leaned down to kiss you as his hands ran up your sides, but you pushed him back. 

“You’re drunk, Shane,” you said, pushing against his chest. He looked down at you with a frown. 

“(Y/N)...,” he whined, kissing down your neck. 

“Shane, stop,” you said, taking his shoulders and pushing him again. This time he relented and flipped back over. He sighed as his eyes pressed closed. His hand found yours, playing with your fingers.

“I love you…” he said, looking over at you with heavy eyes. 

“I love you, too, idiot,” you said. Shane huffed and sat up. “Where are you going?” you asked as you watched him stagger towards the door. 

“Gonna walk it off,” Shane mumbled. “See if Rick is still up.” Shane stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. You flopped back down to the mattress and then eyed the bathroom on the other side of the room. You figured you wouldn’t get another chance to have hot water in a while so you headed for a much-needed shower.

As soon as the hot water hit your body, you felt as if you were transported back in time. You stayed under the spray as long as possible, relishing in the feel of finally being clean after living in the woods for so long. You scrubbed your hair until it slipped through your fingers, free of tangles. Once you had your fill of the luxury the CDC had to offer, you shut the water off and grabbed a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your body. 

After getting dressed and combing your fingers through your hair, you figured you should go find your boyfriend before he passed out in some lab or something. The halls of the residences were quiet as you moved through them, peeking around corners as you searched for Shane. When you turned again, you nearly ran into someone. They steadied you with their hands, grabbing onto your shoulders. Looking up, you saw that it was Daryl. 

“Ya showered,” he said. You nodded slowly, trying not to laugh at his surprised expression. You then noticed the fine layer of dirty still adorning his skin. 

“Yeah, you should try it, mountain man,” you teased, flicking a piece of dirt off his shirt. He scoffed at your words. He then realized he was still holding onto you and awkwardly let go. “Hey, have you seen Shane? He’s not exactly lucid right now and I don’t wanna find him passed out in a supply closet.” Daryl’s jaw went rigid at your words. 

“Ya, saw him followin’ Grimes,” he said, looking away from you. 

“Rick?” 

“Nah,” Daryl grunted, moving past you, “Lori.” 

-----

You didn’t bother to look for Shane after your run-in with Daryl. You went back to your room and tried to get some sleep. This time you did feel like an idiot. As if Shane would really leave her alone just because Rick was back. You stared at the ceiling, trying to stop your mind from creating scenarios about Lori and Shane in your head.

An hour or so later and the door opened. Shane glided into the room, clearly not as drunk as he had been. He pulled off his shoes and sank onto the mattress beside you. He rolled into your side, throwing an arm across your waist, his fingers playing with the fabric of your shirt. “I’m sorry about before,” he said, “you know I’m an ass when I drink.” You did know that which is why you had remained sober.

“It’s fine,” you said, which is what you always said when he apologized when he was being an asshole. His hand stilled on your stomach as his breathing slowed and he slowly fell asleep. A small amount of light entered the room from a crack in the door and as you looked down at your boyfriend you could see fresh scratch marks on his neck. You didn’t have to think too hard about whose nails had made them. 

Your hand came up and carded through Shane’s hair. In his sleep, he nuzzled you closer and you had to fight the tears that welled up. You could do this, you could be there for him when he needed it because that is what you had always done for him. The end of the world didn’t need to change that. Right?

——-

The next day everything went from bad to worse. 

Watching the MRI on the large monitor was horrifying. Even Shane was disturbed. As you all watched the patient reanimate, Shane had reached over and gripped your hand. The two of you hadn’t said anything about the previous night. At breakfast, he had played off the scratches as a drunken accident, but you noted the look in Lori’s face and you noticed that Daryl and even Carol were looking at her and Shane with accusatory glances.

When Jenner invited you all into the main theater for the explanation, hope was upon everyone’s faces as they urged the doctor to tell them about a cure. However, just as you suspected, there wasn’t one. Jenner explained that he was the only one left. He worked as hard as he could, but eventually there was no point. 

Then, as soon as everybody started to realize what was happening, it was nearly too late. 

The blaring red countdown clock was staring you all in the face as the CDC went into full lockdown. Sophia and Carl were stressed and Daryl was pissed. Rick and the others had to restrain the archer as he nearly decapitated Jenner with a fire ax. You, yourself, wanted to attack the man as well. You also wanted to beat Rick to a pulp for getting you into this mess in the first place. 

Eventually, Rick convinced Jenner to let you out, but Andrea, Dale, and Jacqui were staying behind to succumb to the implosion. You rushed after the others towards the lobby. Shane pulled you along, nearly carrying you as you sped through the halls. With the metal shudders lifted, you could see the bodies of the dead even clearer in the sunlight now through the large windows. While you weren’t thrilled about going back into the world of the Dead, it was better than being incinerated.

You knew you were in trouble when the glass wouldn’t break. When Carol had produced the grenade, you could have kissed her. Rick set the charge and you all hit the deck. When the blast went off, you felt a body cover you and you knew immediately that it wasn’t Shane. 

You didn’t say a word as Daryl used his body to keep you close to the ground. You just waited for the ground to stop moving before getting your bearings. Daryl hauled you up and took off towards the blown-out window without saying a word. 

You helped with the kids as they climbed down to the ground, keeping them from the shattered glass. Then, following the others, you took off across the courtyard. Aiming your gun, you and some of the others took out Walkers that were drawn by the grenade. You all ran for the cars going as fast as you could. Entering the RV, you all hunkered down. You could see Daryl dive into his truck and Rick shouted at everyone to cover their ears. 

But then Dale and Andrea came running out of the building. You crouched down again unable to see if they made it or not and this time it was Shane that held onto you. You covered your ears as a blast echoed throughout the city. The RV shook around you and when the smoke cleared and you stood up to look out the window, the CDC was gone. 

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

“Not so good News” - Gabriel x pregnant!reader (2/3)

Part 1 | Part 2 (you’re here) | Part 3

Summary: Part 2 of "Not so good News"! Read the first part HERE. After you had received the news of your pregnancy you feel rather conflicted. On one hand you want this child to live but on the other hand this also means you will die giving birth. Your only option is to enjoy the time you have left with the people you love, forcing your dark thoughts to the back of your head. (F/N) means friend’s name.

Warning: dark thoughts/themes, suggestive themes, heavy angst, swear words, death

Category: angst and fluff, even more angst

Words: about 10.000

Note 1: So it’s finally done… however, because the sequel got so long I decided to split this series into three parts. So this is the second and the last one will be up next weekend (hopefully). Note 2: Also… I finished season 13 (SPOILERS! ahead). Sooo, I guess he’s alive… or at least was. I normally try to avoid spoilers of any kind but after the last episode of season 13 I had to look if he pranked us yet again so I looked up if he would return in any future episodes. NO. Okay, I guess. Doesn’t bother me, not at all. Naaaahh. I’m juts gonna go and … cry in my room now… so yeah. Enjoy my piece of writing.

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"Not so good News" Gabriel x pregnant!reader

Pregnancy Week 4: "You really shouldn't do so much physical labor, sugar" Gabriel commented as he leaned against the side of your car with his arms crossed before his chest. You only huffed, rolled your eyes and continued getting rid of all the blood on the driver's seat of your car. Of course it wasn't easy work, it was hard even because the blood stains were already a day old and dry. But it was your blood and your car and you wanted to clean it. You wanted to do something after receiving the ... news. You needed to occupy your mind. Groaning you grabbed the dishwashing detergent-water mixture and dipped the sponge in it rather aggressively. Muttering under your breath you got back to work. All of this pissed you off. The blood stains, your condition ...this pregnancy. This wasn't how you imagined your life to go or end even. You knew the life of a hunter was dangerous but you always thought that if you wouldn't grow old you would be killed on a hunt ... not after being trapped in the bunker for nine months. This just didn't seem real, it wasn't fair. You scrubbed the car seat over and over again even though the blood was long gone on this spot. This wasn't fair. "(Y/N)." "What?!" you snapped and turned around to face the archangel, steaming with fury and anger. But the moment you met his worried eyes the rage inside of you vanished and was replaced by guilt. By guilt and by anger directed at yourself. Your mood swings were ... you were hurting others again. The sponge fell from your hands and to the ground just like you did too. With your face buried in your hands you sank down, leaning against the car and sobbed. Tears were streaming down your face as sharp cries tore through your throat. This was too much, it was all too much. You didn't want this, not like that. You didn't want to hurt him just because you had no idea what you were supposed to do with your anger. This wasn't fair to him. This wasn’t fair. You felt him beside you, hugging you but you couldn't react. You were horrible. You weren’t fair to him. "Baby ... honey, please. It's alright, you're alright" he whispered into your ear as he pulled you on his lap. Immediately you buried your face into his chest, clawed at his shirt and pressed yourself against him. No. This was all wrong. Wasn't it supposed to be magical? Wasn't it supposed to be great news?! You should cry tears of joy not sadness and anger. This was all wrong. "No" you hiccupped and shook your head. "I'm not alright." You would die. Your days were numbered and you would only live to count them every day. This is not fair. Gabriel grabbed your shoulders and carefully pushed you away so he could look at your face. Whipping away your tears you looked to your side, unable to meet his eyes. But he cupped your cheeks lovingly and directed your gaze back at him. He searched your face for something, a hint. He seemed so worried. It broke your heart. You bit back another sob. "What do you mean?" he asked and pushed back a hair strand that had fallen in your face. "I know this won't end well" you admitted. "I know I will die." The eyes of the archangel widen in shook. Didn't he know? Was he surprised at the news? Maybe it wasn't true? Maybe you wouldn't have to die?

"How do you know this?" You gulped, all the hope you had dared to feel vanished in an instance as you pried off his hands from your face. Slipping off of his lap you curled up with your knees pressed against your chest. "I researched everything about angels, I questioned Cas about everything even before I met you" you said and looked up again, locked eyes with him again. His honey-colored orbs were filled with worry, he was looking at you like this ever since he had found you in your car, almost bleeding to death. You hurt him. Him seeing you so beaten had hurt him. Grabbing his hand you squeezed it out of instinct. "I always knew about the risks of sleeping with you, of unwantedly getting pregnant" you started. "I just never thought it would happen." Immediately you were trapped in another tight hug.

"I'm sorry."

"No!" you yelped and wrapped your arms tightly around him, too. "Don't be sorry! It's not your fault. Sometimes just shit happens." You pressed yourself against him, hugged him so tightly like a baby koala its mother. This wasn't his fault. It wasn't yours either. It was just bad luck, unfortunate, maybe not fair but you would have to live with it. And you wouldn't let that child feel the consequences of this unlucky situation. This child would live and be happy … without you.

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Pregnancy Week 5: Whenever someone would ask you how you were, how you felt you always lied. You always answered with "fine" like it was expected of you. But if you were to be honest you would said you were unhappy, sad, discouraged and miserable even. You felt awful. And your pregnancy symptoms didn't help that either. When you were alone, when you would retreat into your room, your safe zone, you could never hold back the tears. Gabriel wasn't in your room that often since he was an archangel and didn't really need to sleep. He still lied beside you at night and hold you but you would cry more during the day and then pass out at night in his arms. So you lied on your bed all day and just cried until you had no tears left. No one seemed to notice the red in your eyes or the rings under them, the tiredness in every muscle or the emptiness in your facial expressions. Or if they did they didn't dare to address it.

You felt nauseous almost all day, too. You smelled Dean's unholy food and you were ready to throw up again. You smelled your half cup of coffee and you were ready to throw up again. But you needed that coffee. You had reduced it but without it you were unable to wake up. Not that you were very active anyway but it helped a little. You felt ill, like an empty shell of your former self.

"(Y/N)?"

You slowly rolled over so you could look at the door to your room. The worried, honey eyes of Gabriel met your tired ones. Hastily you wiped away the last tears still clinging to your skin and sat up, your blanket still tightly wrapped around you.

"What's up?" you asked, trying to sound happy and energetic even if it made you cringe internally.

"You don't have to pretend" he said and walked towards the bed. You didn't even try to come up with a lie or continue with the act and just flopped back down on the mattress, while pulling the blanket over your head, hiding your teary face from him. You felt the bed dip beside you.

"(Y/N). Please talk to me, sugar" he begged as you felt his hand on your shoulder. Slowly he pushed the blanket from your face, revealing fresh tears that had escaped from your eyes as you helplessly looked at him. A bagging glance, bagging for him to do something you didn’t even know about. Bagging for help of any sort.

"I can't, Gabe" you hiccupped. "I don't know- what am I supposed to tell you? That I'm a mess? That I can't handle this? That I don't even have enough energy to leave the bed at all?" Pressing the palms of your hands against your eyes you forcefully tried to bite back your sobs.

"What do you want to hear, Gabe?" you cried and rolled over so you wouldn't have to face the archangel no more. But before you knew it you felt his arms wrapped around you as he pressed your back against him. The warmth radiating from him soothed you instantly so your sobs were slowly reduced to the occasional hiccup.

"Just tell me that you're hurting. Tell me that you aren't fine. Tell me how I can help you" Gabriel said, pressing his face in your hair. With a sigh you turned around to face him again, not bothering to wipe away the tears this time.

"I don't know, Gabriel" you began. "I don't even know what I can do."

"There has to be something that can help you, even if it's just for a little while."

You closed your eyes and buried your face in his neck. "Just hold me for now."

The next time you opened your eyes the room was dark and the bed cold. At first you just stayed put, with your eyes open and darting around. You wouldn't fall asleep for a while you knew so much. So you sat up, rubbed your eyes and looked around but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. With a silent groan you wrapped your blanket around you and stood up. Opening the door you listened for any sounds but the bunker stayed silent. Nevertheless you decided to sneak until you had reached the library which was also abandoned and dark. Sitting down on a chair you turned on one of the lamps on the desk and grabbed your laptop. You had this idea in your head for some days now but still you hesitated for a second before eventually pressing the record button. Your empty eyes blinked at you and for a while you just stared right back.

"Hey, baby" you finally said with the tiniest smile on your lips. Pushing back some of your hair you fumbled with your next words. "You probably don't know who I am" you glanced to your side before directing your eyes back to the screen.

"I'm your mother."

You stayed silent for a solid minute after that, just blinking at your reflection.

"I wished I knew what you look like" you began without thinking. "I bet you have Gabe's warm eyes." Shaking your head you put your face into your hands. "What am I doing?" you whispered.

Looking up again you forced a smile on your lips even though you felt your eyes water.

"I love you, baby." You stopped the recording after that and closed your laptop. Hugging your knees against your chest you stared at the desk in front of you.

You heard his steps approach you before you heard his voice.

"(Y/N)?"

Slowly turning around you spotted Sam in the doorway. "Are you alright?"

You considered to lie, to tell him that you were fine and just couldn't sleep anymore. But instead you shook your head. "No-o" you croaked out and stretched out your arms towards him. Sam scooped you up into his arms, hugging you tightly. You couldn't pretend any longer.

____________________

Pregnancy Week 6: Your mood was slowly improving ever since you had decided to stop lying about your feelings. Sometimes you still felt overwhelmed and down however you tried to change that. You didn't have much time and that was a fact so you should enjoy your last months as far as possible. However, this didn't mean you would magically forget every dark and worrying thought.

Your mood swings were slowly decreasing but you still felt nauseous or dizzy from time to time and by now your stomach also felt a little hard and if you squinted you imagined you had already gained a little volume. That didn't really bother you though since it was to be expected. But what annoyed you was that your breasts had begun to hurtfully span. It was an unpleasant continuous ache that drove you nuts. Why did nobody warn you about this? You groaned as you lied in bed and pressed them down a little, trying to release some of the pain.

"If you want to be touched you just have to say so."

Startled you jumped a little as you looked at Gabriel entering your room, a sly grin on his lips as he slowly approached you. You snorted and slapped his hands away when he sat down beside you.

"That's not it, you featherbrain. They just hurt like hell" you explained and crossed your arms before your chest. The archangel huffed with a sulky expression before his grin returned. Before you could react he was already leaning over you, pinning you to the bed.

"I can help you with pain relief, too."

Snorting you decided to play along.

"Oh and how would you do that, Doctor Gabe?" His grin only grew at your response.

"At first I would ask you were exactly you are hurting" he said while snuggling his face into your neck, leaving behind feather-light kisses. You giggled and pressed your hands against his chest, lifting him from you.

"I can tell you: It's definitely not there."

The archangel hummed and nodded. "Maybe there then?" He began to kiss up your neck to your ear, making you giggle even more. "Sto-op, that tickles. An-and you have to go lower anyway."

"Lower, you say?" he asked and looked down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You nodded with your face growing hot.

"For now, I need you right there." You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him down to meet your lips. It neither was a demanding kiss nor really a kiss that had to lead to more but it still was a heated one, a passionate one. You realized that since you had got the news about your pregnancy you hadn't kissed him. You subconscious had begun to avoid physical affection apart from the occasional hug. Immediately you felt tears spring into your eyes and a soft sob left your lips which led Gabriel to interrupt the kiss. Worried he glanced down at you and cupped your cheeks.

"What's wrong? Did I overdo it? Do you need something?" he sounded paranoid. With tears still streaming down your face you shook your head while laughing.

"No, it's just those stupid pregnancy hormones" you said between sobs and giggles. A relieved sigh left Gabriel's lips as he wiped away your tears.

"Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry" you laughed, covering your mouth with your hands. "But I can't control it."

The archangel shook his head before lying down beside you. With a small smile he heaved you onto his chest, drawing small circles on your back while you tried to calm down again.

"Sorry for destroying the mood" you whispered after a while.

"We can always pick back up where we left off" Gabriel suggested and wiggled his eyebrows. You let out a small laugh again and slapped his shoulder playfully.

"Maybe later."

Gabriel shrugged as far as possible while lying on the bed. After that no one spoke up again and as you slowly drifted off you realized that you hadn't felt so relaxed in weeks.

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Pregnancy week 7: "What?!" Your angry voice echoed through the bunker as you slammed your hands down on the table in front of you. With twitchy eyes you stared at the four men who were set to go on another hunt. Nothing unusual, nothing to be angry about however the news they just gave you were a completely different story.

"I'm not staying in the bunker while you go out hunting!" you declared and crossed your arms before your chest, furiously glaring at them.

"It's too risky" Sam began.

"We won't have a discussion about this" Dean continued while Castiel only nodded, not daring to also speak up with your heated temper. Your eyes narrowed as they wandered towards Gabriel. Raising one eyebrow you waited for his response.

"(Y/N), they're right."

Your mouth fell open. You at least had expected for him to have your back.

"I'm pregnant, not useless!" you finally spat back.

"It's not about being useless!" the archangel raged back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's about keeping you and the baby safe. Can't you see that?"

The sudden energy you had felt because of the anger suddenly vanished and you slumped back onto the chair. You looked away to the side with your arms still crossed before you, searching for the right words.

"I understand that" you began with your voice flat, still not looking at anyone. The bunker was the safest place on earth and since every other angel wanted you dead you knew you shouldn't leave. "But I can't stay here for the rest of my life."

You only had about eight months left and you wouldn't spend them locked away where it was 'safer' for you. You wanted to live as long as you were still able to.

"For the rest of your life?" Dean asked baffled and when you turned around to look at them you also saw Sam's confused look. You only had to share one glance with Gabriel and Castiel to understand that the Winchesters didn't know it yet. You gulped and directed your gaze back at the two brothers.

"I'm dying."

Maybe you should have found better words for it but there was no use in sugarcoating it anyway. Immediately after those words had left your mouth you saw utter horror fill the eyes of Sam and Dean.

"You what?!" the older brother yelped while Sam stayed quiet. You could see the battle in his mind though. Nodding you sighed and let your arms dangle down. Out of instinct they found their place on your stomach which had grown a little over the week.

"If a human gets pregnant with an angel's child... they die while giving birth to the Nephilim" you explained with your gaze stubbornly directed to the ground. Biting your lip you clenched your eyes shut.

'Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry!'

you silently begged.

"Since when did you know?" You looked up again to meet Sam's sad and terrified eyes. You slumped back down and shrugged.

"Pretty much since... ever? Castiel told me a lot about heaven and angels early on" you explained. Dean glanced at Castiel for clarification.

"It's true, Dean" the angel sadly confirmed. The older brother's eyes wandered back to you and then to Gabriel. Even from your seat you could almost feel the furious heat in Dean's eyes.

"You knew it too, didn't you?" he asked the archangel who opened his mouth to answer but Dean wasn't finished yet. "You knew she would die if she ever got pregnant and you still decided to have sex with her?!"

You flinched by Dean's sharp tone and then immediately jumped up from your seat to run around the table and stand between the archangel and the angry Winchester with your arms stretched out to uphold some distance.

"Stop" you ordered with your gaze fixed on Dean. Taken a back he took one step back. "I knew about it too, Dean and I made the conscious decision to have sex anyway. If you want to blame him” you turned around to face him fully and put your hands over each other on your chest, pointing at yourself. “Then you have to blame me, too."

Sam put one hand on Dean's shoulder who shook his head in disappointment. "You're both fucking stupid." He freed himself from Sam and walked out of the library without another word. Defeated you let your arms fall down to your sides.

Sam, Dean and Cas left the bunker the next day, leaving you and Gabriel behind even though they would have been grateful for the archangels help but Dean couldn't look either of you in the eyes. Sam and Cas at least had said good bye even though you knew that Sam felt betrayed, too.

You sat on the sofa in the library, again with your blanket wrapped around you and a bucket on your lap. You had woken up with severe morning sickness and even though you doubted you could really throw up -only dry heaves tore through your throat from time to time- you didn't dare to go anywhere without the bucket today. You were just too exhausted to clean it up later if something should happen.

"Are you feeling alright?"

You turned your head around to look at Gabriel leaning against the back of the coach. You shook your head and let yourself fall back against the cushions. "No, I hate this. I need hugs."

Demandingly you stretched out your arms without another word. Gabriel chuckled and walked around the couch. He put the bucket on the floor beside the sofa and lied down. You flopped down onto him and wrapped your arms around him.

"You got pretty clingy since you're pregnant" the archangel stated.

"Shut up, it's the hormones."

You felt his laughter vibrate against your chest as he began to play with your hair. You didn't tell him that you feared your end and the future of your child. A future you wouldn't be a part of. This was never how you imagined it to go when you were little. You had dreamed of the perfect little family like everyone else. You had never imagined to end up with an archangel either so ... maybe you were doomed from the very beginning. You knew you would die so you wanted to spend as much time as you could with Gabe, Cas, Sam and Dean when you couldn’t spend time with your child. Sighing you closed your eyes. You hoped Dean wouldn't stay mad at you for long.

You slightly sat up, holding your upper body upright with your arms which were placed to either side of Gabriel so you could look him in the eyes. He raised one eyebrow at you in question and for a few moments you just stared right back at him until you felt your cheeks growing hot under his gaze.

"I love you" you mumbled with a faint smile on your lips which he immediately returned.

"I love you too, sweetcheeks."

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Pregnancy week 8: You sat before your laptop again, staring at you through the screen. With a huff you pressed record before you could retreat again.

"Hello, baby" you started with a tired smile. The night before you hadn't slept well and in the morning you always felt rather sick nowadays. Nevertheless you didn't want to delay it again.

"I would love to know what you did today. Tell me if Dean didn't want to teach you how to fight and I will haunt him." You chuckled. Even though you wouldn't be there for your child you kind of guessed they would want to be a hunter. How could you not want to if you knew about everything that was lurking outside? Especially when you were living with the Winchesters on top of that. And you also knew that Dean probably would strive against teaching them at first. You shook your head and continued to talk to the screen for a few minutes more. You didn't even really know about what. What were you supposed to tell them? You would never get to know them. You would never know what they liked.

"Mom loves you, baby" you finished before your eyes could get teary again, waved into the camera before stopping the recording.

With a sigh you stood up and left your room. You had to find Dean and at best with Sam. They had returned from the hunt a few days ago in which Dean hadn't talked to you at all. Sam did talk to you after your reveal however you noticed that he too grew a little distant. You walked through the many corridors of the bunker and finally found the two brothers in the kitchen, sitting on the table. You froze in the doorway when Dean's eyes met yours before he quickly looked away again. He was still angry. Sam kept looking at you and even threw you a little smile though you could tell it was rather forced.

"Hey, Sam" you said quietly, sat down beside him and directed your gaze to the older brother. "Hey, Dean."

He didn't respond and kept staring at something over your shoulder.

"Dean, please" you began. "Please stop ignoring me." You felt tears swelling in your eyes and a sob tearing through your throat. "I don't want to die knowing you hate me."

Dean stood up so sudden that you flinched. Looking up you met his furious stare. "I don't hate you" he said. "But I can't believe you were so stupid. Are so stupid!"

"Dean" Sam warned with a serious glare.

"You knew you could get pregnant and die. And still!" he didn't finish his thoughts but he didn't have to.

"I knew the risks" you defended yourself and wrapped your arms around you in a protective manner.

"But we didn't! Maybe you had prepared yourself for this case but Sam and I..." Dean faltered. "We just now have to come to terms with the fact that we will lose you soon."

You bit your lip and turned away. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried to force back the tears but you were unsuccessful. Sobbing violently you buried your face in your hands.

"I'm afraid, Dean. I don't want to die" you confessed.

"But I especially don't want to leave this world when you two are still mad at me. This child" you put one hand on your stomach. "My child will need you two when I can't be there."

Suddenly you felt two arms wrapped around you and at first you thought they were Sam's but when you looked up slightly you saw that it was Dean hugging you. He mumbled something you weren't able to hear properly, so you just returned the hug, clinging onto him.

"You're so stupid" Dean now properly said but not in an accusing manner. You laughed shallow, whipping away your tears.

"Thanks."

____________________

Pregnancy week 12: You looked at yourself in the mirror with your hands placed on your stomach which already had a small but still quite obvious bump. The baby should have the size of a plum now however you already gained about two pounds of weight. Slowly you stroke over your bump. You weren't able to feel any movement yet but somehow you couldn't stop hugging your unborn child. Maybe because this was the closest you would ever be with them.

You looked up from your reflection to see Gabriel leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed before his chest. You turned your head to meet his gaze and raised one eyebrow in question. "What's up?"

He only shook his head with a smile and walked towards you, wrapping his arms around your middle to rest his hands on the small bump. With a smile you leaned against him and placed your hands on top of yours.

"Nothing, sugar" the archangel whispered in your ear before leaving a feather-light kiss on your neck. You giggled and placed you head on his shoulder so you were able to glance at him from the corner of your eye. He continued to caress the soft, sensible skin while slowly stroking over your belly. You closed your eyes and just enjoy the contact, making quiet humming noises until his hands slowly wandered lower with yours still on top of his hands. Your eyes shot open to meet Gabriel's mischievous ones. He had put his head right beside yours.

"What are you doing?" you asked and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Enjoying some alone time with my beautiful girl" he answered with a smirk. His hands had found their place on the inner side of your thighs. You couldn't hold back the snort.

"I'm pregnant" you stated. "I have pregnancy acne, raging hormones, morning sickness and I constantly have to urinate!"

"Still beautiful."

You turned around in his arms with one raised eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

The archangel straightened up, looking down at you with warm, sparkling eyes.

"I'm always serious, (Y/N)."

"Biggest lie of the century" you stated bluntly. With your hands against his chest you pressed him a few inches away from you so you could look properly at his face. His eyes never seemed warmer when they traveled over the features of your face. Slowly he wrapped his arms around your middle, sneaking around to the small of your back, tipping you off balance. With little choice given you clung to his chest to safe yourself from falling. You blinked at him expectantly with your fingers curled into his shirt. His mouth hovered only a few inches over yours as the corners of his eyes crinkled up in a smile. He let his eyes wander for a little more until they stopped at your lips. You felt his breath hot on them. Everything you had been worrying about was long forgotten. In this exact moment there were only you and Gabriel, no greater threat, no angels who wanted to kill you, no set date for your untimely end, nothing to worry about. Just you and the archangel you loved. You felt Gabe's arms tightening around you, pressing you even further into him so your feet were uselessly dangling over the floor, only the tips of your toes touching the ground without giving any real support at all. You had never yearned for him, for his touch so strongly before.

His lips brushed over yours in a teasing manner before he quickly pulled away, out of reach even as you moved your head towards him. Groaning quietly to vent out your frustration and annoyance you also furrowed your brows at him.

"Patience, sugar" he breathed with half-lidded eyes. You growled annoyed and shot him a furious glare which only earned you a chuckle from the archangel. One of his hands slowly wandered from your back to one of your legs, slightly lifting it and pushing it against his side. Another groan left your lips as you tried to pull him down to you.

"Hmm, someone's eager" he smirked.

"Oh, shut up already and kiss me!" you demanded while unsuccessfully pressing yourself further into him. It only took him a fraction of a second to close the almost not existing gap between you two. Sighing you let your body relax, you melted into his touch as his lips moved over yours. The kiss didn't start slow, oh no. A kiss with Gabriel always felt hot and needy and this time it also demanded more. You tasted the faintest hint of chocolate still lingering on his lips, sending your senses spiraling out of control. Opening your mouth with a low moan you felt your one leg giving away under you. Not that it was very helpful in keeping you upright anyway. Still rather startled you tightened your grip on Gabriel's shirt, deepening the kiss in the process. Your body felt like it was on fire.

And then the next thing you knew was that you were lying on your bed with Gabriel's body pinning you down into the cushions, his lips never leaving yours. He directed your leg that he still held against him to his waist. Immediately you wrapped it around him, pressing him down to you with another moan.

Your lips parted, allowing you to finally take in some air again. Gabriel pulled back a bit to look down at you with lustful eyes so full of love as his other hand slowly moved over your stomach, caressing the small bump. Then his lips met your neck, gliding over the skin until he had found your weak spot. You closed your eyes and bit your bottom lip but the mix of a moan and a sigh still escaped your mouth as you curled your fingers at his nape. Squirming under him you tried to suppress all the sounds spilling over your lips. Emphasis on tried because you failed miserably.

"Gabe" you panted, clinging onto him as if he was the last piece of wood to save you from drowning. You were in a complete daze, not witnessing anything that could have happened around you, the only thing you noticed was Gabriel and his touches. He let go of your neck, definitely leaving a hickey behind but you didn't care. You would just have to remember to leave one on his neck too. Opening your eyes again you stared at him, your chest raising and falling as you gasped for air. You still felt his hand softly moving over your stomach while your grip around his nape slowly loosened. Gabriel smirked, definitely pleased with his result. Suddenly very self-conscious, you already felt your cheeks getting hot, you looked away. But Gabriel wouldn't let that happen, not on his watch. Cupping your cheek with one hand -the other one had settle on your waist- he directed your gaze back to him as he leaned in closer.

"I love you, (Y/N)" he whispered before capturing your lips in another kiss.

You could only moan into the kiss in response as you continued to enjoy his touches which grew more heated and daring. Not that they had ever been modest to begin with.

Gabriel definitely showed you how beautiful you were to him.

____________________

Pregnancy week 16: You had gained four more pounds, six in total now. The bump was even more noticeable. In fact it grew so much, that you found anything other than leggings unbearable to wear. So that is what you did: Wearing comfortable leggings while wrapped in a blanket on the sofa in the library with a cup of tea in your hands. Since you weren't able to drink much coffee nowadays but still wanted something warm to drink you switched to tea.

You directed the cup to your face when you felt the sofa dip and two arms wrapped themselves around you. With a squeak you tried not to spill anything on yourself and then turned towards the person next to you with sullen looks.

"Gabriel" you warned but he didn't react. Instead he grabbed the cup out of your hands to put it down on the table in front of him.

"What are we both doing today, sugar?" he asked with a wide grin.

"I was just enjoying my tea befo- huh!" you began before you were suddenly pinned underneath the archangel, his face dangerously close to yours. But from so near you saw the worry and sadness in his eyes. Perplexed you blinked at him. "Gabe? Are you alright?"

He shook his head before burying his face in your neck. "Everything is well, (Y/N). You don't have to worry about me."

In that moment it hit you. He is still...

"But you're still worrying about me, aren't you?"

At first the archangel on top of you didn't move. But then you heard him sigh before he finally sat up.

"(Y/N) ... How can I not?"

You huffed and tried to sit up to but since Gabriel had his legs still to either side of you, you weren't really able to straighten up properly.

"Gabriel ... Gabe, listen. I know all this isn't" you paused and shoved him of you so you could sit in front of him and face him properly. "ideal. But I stopped worrying so you should, too."

You hoped he would buy your lie so you immediately continued. You didn't want to think about all this now. You had enough weeks to come to worry about it.

"There are far more fun things to do today anyway."

Gabriel's eyebrows rose as he eyed you expectantly with a wide grin. He leaned forward but was stopped by your hands pressed against his chest.

"Not that kind of fun, Gabe!" you laughed but got pressed into the cushions anyway. Your face got peppered with kisses while you giggled profusely. "Gabriel, sto-" you started but got silenced by his lips on top of yours. You hummed into the kiss, any resistance was immediately forgotten as you melted in his arms. Your arms wrapped themselves around Gabe's neck almost automatically while he held himself upright with one arm and caressed your side with the other.

"Guys, really? Don't you have a room?"

You flinched, knocking heads with Gabriel when you tried to sit up. Groaning you let yourself fall back down. However, the archangel straightened up to face the older Winchester who had just entered the room.

"Come on, I know you enjoy a good show, Dean."

You gasped in shock and pushed Gabriel off of you with your foot. "Gabe!" you yelped and threw a pillow in his face when you saw the pleased grin on his face. Sitting up you looked apologetically at Dean who had one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, Dean. I was actually waiting for someone to arrive at the bunker before featherbrains distracted me" you explained. "Do you know if they arrived yet?"

"Who?" Gabriel asked, looking up at you since he was still lying on the sofa. You pushed another pillow in his face to silence him and turned around to look at your phone that was lying on the table next to your half empty cup of tea.

"I think a car parked in front of the bunker... I actually wanted to ask you if one of you knew who it was" Dean said.

You jumped up, ran your fingers through your hair to clean it up a little and jogged up the staircase to the entrance door without answering Dean. When you opened the door you saw them in front of you, one hand raised and about to knock at the door.

"(F/N)!" you said excited and hugged them immediately.

"Hey, (Y/N)" they responded with an equally tight hug.

"Thanks, for coming by. I'm unable to leave this place because of safety reasons" you explained after letting go of them and leading them inside.

"No problem, I have everything we need" they said and pointed to the suitcase in their hand. Nodding you walked back down to meet the very confused faces of Dean and Gabe.

"Hey, I'm (F/N)" your friend introduced themselves. "I was (Y/N)'s former partner for hunts.”

“Before she decided to pursue her dreams of being active in the medical field” you added and bumped playfully into her side.

The two men nodded.

"So, what are you doing here?" Dean asked.

You placed your hands on the noticeable bump: "For check-ups. Also, if the baby is lying right we can detect which gender they have."

Gabriel immediately beamed with excitement as he jumped up from the sofa, following you and your friend to your room.

After about twenty minutes your friend had set everything up and you were lying expectantly in your bed with Gabe sitting beside you.

"What do you think it will be?" he asked. You grinned at him.

"I don't know, but they will challenge you nevertheless." He huffed.

"I'm great with children."

"Since when? Have you even seen one?" you laughed which only earned you a slight nudge against your shoulder.

"Are you two ready?" (F/N) asked with a smile. You nodded but flinched as they covered your bare stomach with the cold substance. Looking at the monitor you tried to make out any shapes.

"Look, there is the head" your friend said and traced it with their finger. That was the moment you saw your baby for the first time. Blindly you searched for Gabriel's hand as tears sprang into your eyes. The archangel squeezed your hand reassuringly.

"Can you see what it is?" he asked.

Your friend hummed and moved the scanner around a bit.

"Yup!"

You squeezed Gabriel's hand even more. Your heart beat frantically.

"It's a girl."

You couldn't hold back the sob and immediately turned to Gabriel for a hug.

"We have to come up with a name soon, sugar" he whispered in your ear while drawing circles on your back until you had calmed down again. Damn, you were a wreck today ... any day.

Let's just say: agreeing to one name was a hassle.

Whenever you found a name you liked Gabriel would have some kind of personal conflict with the name.

"What about ... Nidia? This one sounds cute" you said and looked up from your phone to meet Gabriel's eyes. He sat on the other side of the sofa also looking onto his phone.

"I once knew a Nidia. She was very flex-hey!" Gabriel blinked perplexed at you and then at the pillow that you had thrown at him and was now lying in his lap.

"I once told you that I don't care about all your past affairs" you began with a huff. "But are you kidding me? Every name I suggest? Really?!"

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "No one can resist my charm, sug-" he got cut off again by another pillow to his face. He threw you a sulky look.

"Is there one name you haven't moaned?" you asked bluntly and crossed your arms before your chest. He shrugged his shoulders again with a grin which earned him his third pillow.

____________________

Pregnancy week 17: Everything seemed to slowly settle itself in. Your pregnancy acne was gone, your belly was growing profusely and you were motivated to continue the recordings for your baby girl. You had made one every single day for the past week, talking about your life, the pregnancy, your wishes for your baby.

You were also motivated to find a name that had no previous history for Gabriel. Let's just say ... you would have more options if the baby was a boy.

The only thing that calmed your nerves when you had to cross out another name was food. Something you craved right now was hot Cheetos dipped into yogurt. Normally disgusting but at the moment the best thing you could eat. These pregnancy cravings were weird.

However, currently you were lying in bed scrolling through your phone for names again. The archangel was next to you, pressing you against his chest as he looked over your shoulder. You opened your moth to speak but before you could you were interrupted.

"Before you say anything: I knew a Rayna, too."

You turned towards him with a scowl. Pushing him off of you, you rolled over so he could no longer look at the screen. "You are getting on my nerves, Gabriel."

"Sorry, sugar. But-" he started but you snapped.

"When you say something about your charm again I will beat you up with a pillow."

It stayed silent after that for a while but not distant. Gabriel's hand found your stomach almost immediately. You sighed and nuzzled into him.

"Is there no name that comes to your mind?" you asked defeated, looking up from your phone. Gabriel's warm eyes looked apologetically at you as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry, sweetcheeks. The only name on my mind right now is yours" he said and winked at you.

You snorted and slid over to let yourself be wrapped in Gabe's arms. Inhaling his scent you let yourself be lulled into his warmth.

"You are such a smooth talker" you huffed.

"But it works every time" he smirked. You shook your head and punched him lightly in the chest.

"You never shut your mouth, too."

"You know" the archangel began. "I could say the same thing about you."

Perplexed you pressed yourself away from him to look at his face again.

"What?" Gabriel chuckled.

"You recently began to snore while sleeping." Your eyes widen and your cheeks grew hot as you stared at him. Stammering something uncoherent before you shook your head to clear your thoughts.

"I do not!"

Gabriel laughed and hugged you tightly against him again. "Yes, you do."

"I refuse to believe that” you mumbled into his chest before freeing yourself from his hug, still very embarrassed. The archangel shrugged and lied back onto his back. With a sigh you grabbed your phone again and mindlessly scrolled down for a while before randomly stopping. You read all the names listed on that part until you found yourself stuck on one. You sat up, pushing your hair behind your ear.

"What do you think about Liora? I really like its meaning: 'My Light'."

Gabriel thought about it for a moment but you didn't see recognition on his face. Did you do it? Did you find a name he didn't have a connection to? Then he shook his head. "I don't recall knowing anyone with that name. Liora ... yes, that sounds beautiful." You were more than relieved as you slumped back into the pillows.

____________________

Pregnancy week 18: It was all a hoax. Nothing was better. You felt miserable. You were unable to sleep properly again like before you knew about the pregnancy. Your mind just couldn't find rest. Your thoughts were racing every time at night when everything got quiet.

On top of that did the sides of your belly hurt like hell. You had asked your friend about it and they said that it was probably because of your womb expanding. So now you were unable to sleep because of mental and physical stuff. And being pregnant with no sleep meant you were cranky all the time. And when you were cranky you got headaches. And when you had headaches you couldn't fall asleep. It was a vicious cycle.

What you needed right now was your archangel boyfriend. However, that wasn't possible since he was on a hunt with Sam and Dean. Castiel was still in the bunker with you but he would be joining them shortly. He stayed behind to help you with the last parts of research before he would teleport to the location. He was browsing through several books he had displayed on the table while you were leaning over one single book. You were sitting on the opposite side of the table, rereading the last paragraph for the fifth time now and slowly you lost your patience with yourself. Growling you pressed the palms of your hands against your eyes, trying to sooth the throbbing headache that was pounding against your skull.

"Is everything alright?" asked a voice and suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. Flinching you turned around to look at Castiel. With a sigh you waved him off and looked back down at the book.

"Yes, everything is just peachy."

"I can heal you symptoms if you want?" Castiel continued. You glanced back at him from over your shoulder.

"You can do that?"

The angel nodded. "But it won't last forever since I can't remove the source of your pain."

"Doesn't matter, I just want to have a few minutes without any pain" you explained, turning around in the chair eagerly to fully look at him.

"Can I?" he asked, his hand hovering over your stomach. You looked down at the ever growing bump and nodded. "Of course."

The moment Castiel had placed his hand over it you felt a warmth run through your entire body. A sigh left your lips. And when Cas withdrew his hand you couldn’t believe that you felt nothing other than good. "Thank you, Cas" you said with a smile, stood up and hugged the angel. Rather stiffly he returned it. "Your welcome, (Y/N)."

Cas called Dean after the two of you finished the research and teleported away which meant that you were completely alone right now and had enough time to record something for your baby girl again. You hadn't shown or told anything that you did that. When you were finished you wanted to safe it on a USB stick and tell Gabe to give it to her when she needed it. Because this was something personal between you and your baby.

You sat everything up and pressed the record button.

"Hey sweetie" you waved with a wide smile. Now that Cas had healed your symptoms for a while you felt really good and energetic. You felt motivated.

"You know, I really wished I could spoil you rotten" you confessed and pushed some strains of your hair back with a chuckle.

"But knowing Gabe I guess he is probably spoiling you enough for the both of us."

You fell silent for a few moments as seriousness washed over you. You had no idea how the life of your girl would be but if wouldn't be easy. You were sure that Gabriel and Cas would help her with her angel side and Dean and Sam with her human one. But there were still many dangers out there. She would still be a target for other angels. You shook your head and continued to speak about more cheerful things.

"I wonder what your favorite color is... I guess nothing to girly since you will be surrounded by a lot of guys in your life. However, that could also mean you could lean towards more feminine colors to define yourself and distance yourself from the boys." You huffed, placed your chin on your palm and thought for a moment.

"I'm just gonna follow my intuition and say it's purple. Let me know if I'm right" you winked.

"I should stop. Oh, but before I go: Your Dad and I finally decided on a name for you!" you grinned and took a deep breath.

"Mom loves you, Liora."

And with that you stopped the recording.

____________________

Pregnancy week 19: You were in need of new clothes. Not like wanting to buy new stuff but really, really needing something to wear because of your growing belly and no matter how embarrassing it was... because of your enlarged breasts, too. You needed new bras, okay! Nothing to be distressed about. But damn was it unusual. And okay, you felt really embarrassed by it. It didn't help that Gabriel was obviously staring at them, too. Not that you could blame him…

"Stop it, Gabe!" you yelped and crossed your arms before your chest, pinning the blanket against you to cover your breasts. "That's inappropriate."

The archangel snorted and walked towards your sitting form on the bed.

"I saw you in far more revealing clothes" he explained, now standing directly in front of you. You eyed his hand that slowly creeped closer to your arms. He slowly pushed them down which lead to the blanket falling to your lap, revealing your -by a normal shirt covered- breasts.

"I also saw you naked more than once, sweetchecks."

Looking away you already felt your face heat up.

"It makes me self-conscious" you mumbled.

"Oh, sugar" Gabriel said and hoisted you up on your feet. He intertwined both of your hands and pulled you against him. "There is no need to feel embarrassed. You're always beautiful."

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your face against his chest.

"It's still embarrassing. Or at least, I mean ... I don't know! It's just different" you tried to explain. "Everything's so different."

Gabriel hummed, stroking your hair while wrapping his other arm also around you.

"I try to be positive, Gabe" you take a deep breath and buried your nails into his shirt. "But it's hard when you know you will die."

"You know that they are searching for a solution, right?"

You pushed yourself slightly away so you could see his face. "Solution?"

He nodded: "Sam and Dean are looking for something that can safe you. Something maybe not even we angels know about."

"What? They can't!" you yelled shocked which earned you a confused face from the archangel. You shook your head.

"Stuff like that, plans like that never end well" you stopped and took a deep breath. "It always ends with someone else sacrificing themselves and I won't let them do that for me."

Gabriel tightened the hug again, pressing you against him again.

"I'm sure they won't do anything stupid" he tried to reassure you.

"Okay, now that is the biggest lie of the century" you said with a snort.

"Oh, can you help me with something, Gabe?" you asked, pushing away again to look at his warm eyes.

"Anything you want, sugar" he said and wiggled his eyebrows. Rolling your eyes you freed yourself from his arms. "Not that kind of problem, Gabriel. I need new clothes" you pointed down at you. "And since I can't leave I need you to work your magic and produce me a new wardrobe that will fit." The archangel snapped his fingers immediately and then gestured to your closet.

"Done."

You opened the closet door and nodded before turning around to face him again with a smile.

"That reminds me: We need to get a few more things."

It was now a few hours later and you were currently looking for Sam and Dean. You desperately needed to talk to them about their probably very stupid plan. And low and behold where did you find them? The library, researching some way to safe you.

"There is no way" you said, leaning against the door frame. Immediately the heads of the two men turned to you. "What do you mean?" Sam asked and desperately tried to cover up the book he was reading. Dean instantly stood up, walking towards you.

"Are you alright?" he asked which made you sigh and roll your eyes.

"Yes, Dean. Don't try to distract me, though" you warned and sat down in front of Sam. "I know what you two are doing and I won't allow it."

Sam rose an eyebrow in uestion while Dean sat back down.

"You two are trying to find a way to safe me."

"And?" Dean huffed. "We just ... Don't want you to die."

"Dean, you-" you stopped and took a deep breath. "Do you realize to what this always leads? How it always ends?" The two Winchesters watched you silently.

"It always leads to someone else sacrificing themselves and I won't let you do that for me. I forbid it!" you slammed your hands on the table and stood up, trying to fight back the tears.

"Why (Y/N)? We can decide that for ourselves" Dean challenged you, also standing up.

"No, you can't because I am the one who would have to live with the sacrifice!" you screamed. After that everything seemed to stand still. You blinked unmoving and then slowly straightened up, crossing your arms before your chest. You took a deep breath.

"I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew about the risks. It's my decision to let this baby live and to bear the consequences" you clarified. Shaking your head you turned away from the two brothers who hadn't dared to speak up again and walked towards the door. When you were standing in the frame you turned to face them again.

"Come with me. I want to show you two something."

You led them in front of your room. With your hand on the handle you turned to look at them again. Then you opened the door energetically. Coming to light was your newly decorated room. You entered with the Winchesters in tow and sat down on the bed.

"Gabriel and I decided to make my room baby proof" you explained and then let them see for themselves. The complete left side of the room was now decorated like a kid’s room. Next to your bed stood a crib with a fitting mobile attached to it. On the wall next to it was a diaper-changing unit and a few shelves with books and toys inside of it. A soft fuzzy carpet was draped on the floor and some star and moon stickers were on the left wall now. You sighed and grabbed the romper which laid next to you on the bed while Sam and Dean's eyes were still fixated on the new furniture.

"You will have a lot to do in a few weeks" you said with a grin, your eyes glued to the onesie in your hands. Then you turned it around so you could show them the print on it. On the front it read "Princess".

"Because it will be a little girl." You hadn't told them this before now. Somehow you didn't know how you should do it but you couldn't delay it anymore.

Sam immediately had a huge smile on his face as he took a step forward, reaching a hand out, asking you to hold the romper. You gave it to him with a small smile. In the mean time you focused on Dean who was still frozen, staring at the wall.

"Dean?" Your voice seemed to snap him out of it. But when he turned towards you, something you weren't prepared for were tears. "No, don't" you said, already feeling your own tears wetting your eyes. "You will make me cry, too."

You stood up and wrapped your arms around the older Winchester. "I don't want to cry today."

It stayed quiet for a few moments before you felt Dean's grip tighten. "(Y/N)" he started. "How do you expect of me to not search for another solution?" You didn't answer since he wasn't expecting one anyway. "You're family, (Y/N). I can't just let you die."

You sobbed, pressing even further into his chest.

"You know I don't want to die, Dean" you said. "But what I want even less is one of you dying because of me." It got silent after that again, neither spoke up.

"My baby girl will need you, Dean. Please stop searching for a solution that will cost more than I'm willing to give. For me, as my last wish."

"… okay, (Y/N)."

     To be continued: Part 3 is here.

____________________

[xnchxntmxnt]

Slowly figuring out wtf tumblr is, whatever

You know most of this stuff and I’m tired so...

1: Meg, according to you

2: girl she/her probably until I decide to stop procrastinating shit

3: 🤷‍♀️

4: ew I don’t like this one. To describe myself- snarky, stubborn, hopefully nice and funny. Hobbies- not enough. Piano, fencing, reading, letting you talk me into stuff like this. Idk. For the partner stuff just be fun to hang out with and don’t be an asshole

5: I really like alt fashion

6: mostly blues but ik you say bronze and I like those too

7: no clue it changes too much and I’m indecisive. Maybe this side of paradise again rn

8: halsey, Hozier, ATL. I also listen to acoustic versions of things a lot

MBTI: INTP

favorite show: NCIS Sherlock or mha Cz that’s what I’m watching rn. Can I say shadow and bone?

Favorite books/series: grishaverse, Shadowhunters, davinci code

Yay I’m done. Enjoy

So I did a lot of thinking on this...

You lucked out my dear

I’m gonna match you up with....

𝐵𝑜𝑘𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝐾𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑜

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑀𝑒𝑡

Okay so

He’s not the smartest

People like to portray him as a complete idiot

I think he’s very emotionally intelligent

But that does not translate to book smarts at all

And finally akaashi (AGAAAASHI aka his best friend) convinced him to go to tutoring

And you being the responsible smart bby you are

Got paired with him to work for the day

And this dude couldn’t stop staring at you

You started trying to explain calculus to him and he just

👁 👄 👁

Staring

And flat out said “okay i...did not hear a word, can you explain that again?” because he wanted to hear you talk more

But eventually he broke himself of that and started getting really excited

Because!! He could do his homework!!

You did half of it with him and he went home and did the rest of it and it made. sense.

Ur magic, he’s sure

So he got ahold of his friend Akaashi and asked if he could try to find your Instagram or something

Which he did because he’s good like that

And bokuto messages you which basically looks like:

HEY HEY HEY MEGGY SO GUESS WHAT what I GOT ALL MY HOMEWORK good for you!! congrats, bokuto! THANK YOU I KNOW IM AWESOME BUT ALSO YOURE AWESOME THANK YOU FOR THE HELP anytime! HEY WHATS YOUR FAVORITE SNACK [snack here], why? ILL SEE YOU TMRW

you get to the room for tutoring the next day and there’s a thing of your favorite snacks with a little paper next to it

“Hey hey hey! Bokuto again! This part you don’t have to respond to if I totally got the wrong vibe, but I figured there’s no harm in asking. I wanted to repay you for all the help the other day, so I got you a snack for today...and y’know, maybe a date this weekend? Saturday night, dinner and a movie? I’ve got tickets for that new horror flick or we can go see something else if that’s not your style!. Have an amazing day, Meggy! -Kou”

With a little winky face at the end and a heart

Needless to say you went to that date, it’s bokuto, how could you resist

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝐼𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑠

Alright when I say you lucked out

You LUCKED OUT with this man

He is

He’s so cute

And is such a good boyfriend

Like he’s naturally a very touchy person but if you’re not feeling it that day? No problem. He’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with

But if that means cuddling with you

Good luck getting him off of you

This man is 6’1” and 172lbs (via Fandom Wiki) of muscle and he’s

He’s such a cuddly baby you will not escape

He also loves having his hair played with so after a long day expect him to lay his head on your stomach/lap and demand that you play with his hair (but like gently)

King of pet/nicknames

Baby

Darling

Sweetheart

Love of my life

Beautiful

Sunshine

Expect a bunch of text and in that order too lol

He started calling you Meggy day one and he introduces you to his friends as “this is my Meggy but only I get to call them that”

He’s also king of compliments and randomly throws in new ones to see if you like it

Don’t worry about offending him, he just wants to know if you like being called cute, pretty, adorable, gorgeous, beautiful, etc.

So if you don’t like it tell him and he won’t do it anymore

But he’s still gonna find ways to compliment you

TW body insecurity you can skip this part

But bokuto is very tall and I have this image in my brain that like

He just naturally can’t get abs as easily as some of his friends and he’s insecure about that because he’s like rock solid muscle everywhere

But he’s got a little pudge and he doesn’t like it

So there’s that and stretch marks and all sorts of stuff

And there are some days he’s really upset about it and sometimes he’ll come to you and ask if you still think he’s handsome despite all that

And you just nod and kiss him and reassure him like you do every time

Not out of obligation, though—you just know what to do (after a little while) to work with him and make him happy again

Tbh give him tummy kisses he’ll be in love with you forever

Or if not just hold him close and tell him he’s handsome and cute and everything he wants to be but feels like he’s not

TW END

I’m gonna make you mad at me quick but I’ll keep this short

If/when you ever decide to process some things and decide you want to use more/different pronouns or something

He’s 100% here for you

He doesn’t care what you identify as (well he does that’s not the point though)

He just wants you to be you

The MOMENT you tell him any new name/pronouns/aNYTHING like that

He starts talking to himself in his room talking about you with the new thing

Changes your contact picture

Everything

Asks if it’s okay if he can tell Akaashi or kuroo so he can call one of them and talk to them about you for a while to make sure he gets it right

He loves you. Be yourself with him. That’s all he wants

And I’m always gonna be here for you too <3

Good morning and good night texts

He’s naturally an early riser so expect him to text you at like 5:30-6:00AM in order to say good morning

If it’s the weekend maybe closer to 8:30 but always before nine

And on Shabbat? Spams your phone and calls you when he knows you’re coming back soon

Just so he can say hi

And says “hiiiii” with this stupid lovesick voice and then goes on to ramble about how much he missed you and now he’s glad you’re back !!!!

I forget how old your youngest sister is but like these two? Best friends. Seriously. He’s so good with kids. The other one (yes I know their names I’m just being Internet safe lol but I know their names I swear) would probably love him too because how can you not he’s so cute

Overall he’s just a sweet amazing guy with a lot of energy and when he loves someone? He loves with his whole heart. He really does. And that means you

He’s also eye candy but that’s besides the point

You got a hot bf 😂

𝑀𝑒𝑔𝑘𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝐷𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐼𝑑𝑒𝑎

Study dates

Convince me otherwise

U cant

Anyway

This man is so bad at studying but you have to give him positive reinforcement to keep him going

Which means kisses

And cuddles

And snacks

He eats all ur snacks but he always buys you random stuff so its okay

But there are some times where its a really really long day and he’s frustrated because he doesn’t understand and feels stupid

God i think he’d almost start crying bc this man actually acknowledges he has emotions

But he’d look up at you with the biggest puppy eyes ever and a little tear falls from his eyes and he starts apologizing

“I’m sorry I don’t get it--I don’t know why because it sounds so easy but I just--”

And it is now when you take this 6’1” absolute baby and pull him in and he curls up basically in your lap and lays his head on your shoulder until he feels better

Listen to him

Tell him it's okay

Play with his hair (because he loves it a lot)

And remind him you love him. Because he’s trying his best and he loves you enough to be this raw and vulnerable with you

𝑍𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑐 𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

Taurus is known to be observant and strong people and Virgos are practical and loyal. Putting these two signs together can be a perfect match for the two of you as long as the both of you can get over a potential fear of being hurt. Because really, neither of you would intentionally hurt each other anyway.

𝐸𝑑𝑖𝑡!

𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

Pumped Up Kicks - Foster the People (this is off of vibes alone i swear)

Take It Easy - Surfaces

Talk Too Much - COIN

Follow You - Imagine Dragons

Gimme Love - Joji

𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑈𝑝

Oikawa Tooru, Shimizu Kiyoko

[momentsuspended-intime]

Finding light in the darkness.

*Trigger warning* This post mentions suicide, overdosing, crisis team, alcohol, drug abuse, and other scenarios people may find triggering or offensive. Please proceed with caution.

Don’t be afraid of change, it is leading you to a new beginning. The pain you feel today will be the strength you feel tomorrow. Every day is a new beginning. Take a deep breath and start again.

Sitting in my living room, empty boxes of codeine surrounding me, this is it I thought, all the pain was going to end. Finally.

I texted my ex, I messaged my friends, all saying goodbye and how sorry I was for causing so much turmoil. I felt broken and defeated, I just wanted it all to stop. My head was racing, I just wanted all these thoughts to stop going round and round my head, was a little peace too much to ask for? Suddenly my Mum entered the room her face was pale. “What have you done?!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. All I could do was look at her and apologise, I had a momentary lapse where I hadn’t considered my next steps. One of my friends had messaged my Mum in a panic; my ex was on the phone, I could hear him crying but I just felt numb.

My Dad then raced into the room “Why would you do this, Victoria?” “Not my baby, please no” Those words will haunt me for the rest of my life. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen my Dad cry, but this was different. In that moment I thought “had I made a mistake?” but I still felt numb. Maybe it was the 60 codeine tablets I took or the adrenaline pumping through my body but all I felt was nothing. It had been like that for weeks now. This empty feeling inside me, like a black hole, sucking out every little piece of love and emotions I had. I didn’t realise it at the time but I was suffering with Borderline Personality Disorder, but I’ll get to that later.

Suddenly I was in the back of an ambulance, ECG hooked up to my body, and I’d spend hours in the hospital, being seen by different Doctors and Mental Health Nurses. My parents were pushing to having me committed. The hospital didn’t do anything; they sent me home and in less than 24 hours I’d be back in the hospital after a second failed attempt at taking my own life. 120 codeine tablets in total over 24 hours. Thank god I’m alive writing this now. I’m not a religious person but I must have someone looking down on me, keeping me safe.

You might be wondering how I got to this point, you see I’ve always known something wasn’t quite right, I could never put my finger on it but I never felt ‘normal’. Whatever normal is anyway. My head had always been a chaotic place for as long as I can remember, I always felt things so intensely, but that was normal right? I never knew any better. I would say goodbye to my ex after a lovely weekend together (he was in the RAF so I only got to see him on weekends) and I would have been crying hysterically, like he was being deployed for 6 months but in reality I’d be seeing him again in 5 days time. Minutes later in my car with music blaring I’d be singing and dancing along to the radio, like the previous few moments never happened. Something that would annoy the average person would make me fly into a fit of rage; my family described it as like walking on eggshells when they were around me. Too scared to say certain things out of fear of how I would react.

Anyway I’m digressing here, but the point is I always knew something wasn’t right with me. So what happened to make me feel so low? I had a week from hell. I’d been fired from my job by e-mail, basically told not to come in the following Monday. I was heartbroken, I was a photographer for a Cigar and Whiskey company, and I’d studied Photography at University. I could do that job in my sleep but that e-mail hit me like a tone of bricks. Later that week I would find out that my Nan had stage 5 terminal kidney disease and a couple days later my boyfriend of 3 and a half years would break my heart. It was traumatic, we’d spent 4 lovely days together and on the Sunday he woke up, looked at me and ended it. Just like that. I still remember the stabbing sensation in my stomach when I instantly knew something was wrong. An hour later I was driving 4 hours back from Buckinghamshire, crying my eyes out, reality had not yet set in and I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I still remember hearing Lizzo on the radio “If he don’t love you anymore, just walk yo’ fine ass out the door”. How ironic.

The day after my stint in the hospital I find myself sat in a room at the Crisis Centre on Northgate Street, waiting to be seen by a Psychiatrist and Mental Health Nurse to discuss what needs to be done. I’m angry, exhausted, confused and want anything but help. One of the Mental Health Nurses looks at me and says, “If you’re going to kill yourself, you’re going to do it anyway”. That was it, I went super saiyan, how dare he say that to me! These people are supposed to be here to help me, I know I didn’t want help at that point but how could someone in authority whose profession it is to support and care for those in a crisis say something so repulsive? That would be one of many unsavoury experiences I’d have with the Mental Health services.

After finally speaking to the manager (I promise I’m not a Karen), we all agreed that at home treatment would be best for my situation and me. Over the next few weeks I would be seen by the Crisis team every day. Every damn day I would have to explain in intricate detail what had happened and how we got to this point. You see with the Crisis team you don’t see the same person every day, they’re all on shifts, so each visit I would meet someone new and be expected to open up to a complete stranger about how I was feeling. When in a crisis a person needs consistency, the chance to build a rapport with someone and to feel like they’re being listened to. Not judged for being in the position I found myself in.

After many visits with a Psychiatrist and members of the Crisis team they came to a conclusion, I didn’t realise just how life changing this revelation would be. I had Borderline Personality Disorder. Suddenly everything fell into place; intense and unstable emotions? Check. Feeling empty and angry? Check. Impulsivity? Check. In total there’s 9 different symptoms for BPD (I’ll cover this in a future post), and I had all 9.

If you’re wondering what Borderline Personality Disorder is exactly then let me give you a brief outline, of course this is one of the most misunderstood and often stigmatised mental health issue a person can have. In simple terms BPD is a condition that affects how you think, feel and interact with other people. People with BPD experience a pervasive pattern of instability, both in the way they view themselves and with interpersonal relationships.

BPD isn’t a fad, it isn’t quirky, it can be soul destroying and it almost cost me my life. Experiencing a break up, losing a job and finding out a loved one is ill was just too much. Just one of those things can cause someone with BPD to lose control, they say things come in threes and for me it was true. To a ‘normal’ person a break up is hard, unless you’re lucky enough to part ways as friends, for me it felt like someone had died. That might sound dramatic but it was true, I didn’t realise but my ex was my FP (favourite person). People with BPD often have a FP, someone they rely on and put on a pedestal, and this person can do no wrong. My problem is my FP broke my heart.

Now don’t get me wrong I know it takes two to tango, I wasn’t a saint but in my defence I didn’t realise I was ill. I was moody, never wanted to spend time with his family, argued over every little thing and I wanted him all to myself. I didn’t realise it at the time but I was obsessed.

I spent the next two weeks at a friend’s house, drinking and getting high. My head was a mess, thoughts racing; I just wanted a moment of calm. I thought I was making myself feel better, trying to forget all the chaos going on in my life but I was just making everything worse. I wasn’t facing these problems head on, I was masking them and I didn’t realise it but things were about to erupt.

During this time I was a train wreck, I was drinking at every moment I could. Taking the dog out so I could nip to the shops and down a bottle or two of Lambrini in the park (how classy, right?). My problem was during this time drinking would make me disassociate; I’d become violent and angry. At one point I found myself in the back of a police van, but I’m not ready to talk about that yet.

I had reached rock bottom, my family stood by me, and god knows why- I gave them every opportunity to disown me and kick me out of the house but they never did and for that I am eternally grateful. I knew something had to change, I HAD to change. I couldn’t keep going on living like this, surly there’s more to life than this?

I decided I would quit drinking and get my life back on track. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but anything worth having in life isn’t. I decided to try and raise money for NSFT (Norfolk and Suffolk Foundation Trust), at this point I had been discharged by the Crisis team and I was now in the hands of NSFT. This is when I met Allison, my Mental Health Nurse and things finally started to change for the better.

I started cycling 30 miles every day, I reached over 500 miles but due to health reasons I had stop. It’s my aim to re-start my little goal and hopefully add to the £250 I’ve raised so far. I started engaging with NSFT; I had weekly meetings with my MH Nurse, Allison and went to Recovery College, learning ways to cope with my diagnosis and my recovery.

During this time I started feeling better, I was given a cocktail of medications such as antipsychotics and anti-depressants and slowly the real me was starting to come out.

2 years on I feel like a completely different person. I’ve rebuilt my relationship with my family; I’m one year sober and living in a beautiful new house. Treatment, medication and personal growth have changed me. Just yesterday my Sister was saying she could finally see the real me, the one that had always been there but just needed some nurturing (and treatment) to help shine through.

I’ve made many mistakes in life, I’m sure you’ll hear more about these in future posts but I decided I wanted to give back and use my experiences to help other people. You see I’ve always felt lost, like I never knew who I was as a person or what I wanted to do in life but I’ve finally found my calling. Last November I enrolled on a course and now I’m studying to become a Mental Health Nurse myself.

During my recovery I found that talking to someone who has lived experience of mental health issues utterly valuable. They understand you in a way no one else does, you have this shared connection. So I decided I wanted to take my lived experience, mistakes I’ve made, everything I’ve learnt over the past two years and try to help someone else that’s going through a Crisis.

I started volunteering at a Mental Health Charity called Together, working with the service users to offer them some support and it gave me a real taste of how it would be to work as a Mental Health Nurse and help someone who really needed it. Unfortunately lockdown hit and I had to stop volunteering.

I’m still working on my online course and hopefully by the end of the year I’ll be a Peer Support Worker and from there I’ll be able to join a course to specialise in Mental Health Nursing. For the first time in my life I have a plan.

What happened to that angry girl, who was moody all the time and argued over every little thing? I can say proudly that she no longer exists. Now I’m confident, happy and feel motivated to get as much out of life as possible. I’ve even started dating again! I’ll occasionally feel my mood flip quite quickly but I’m better at managing it now. Like any other illness you learn to live with it, this time though I’m not letting my diagnosis define me.

My relationship with my family has never been better, of course it’s not easy to forgive and there’s some things you can’t forget but my family have never held the things I’ve done against me. The past two years have been really tough but I’ve learnt a lot about myself as a person and the type of person I want to be. It hasn’t been easy writing this blog post, I wanted to give an honest and raw account of what it’s like to experience the darkest point of your life and what it’s like to rebuild from the ground up.

If you’re experiencing a hard time just know my inbox is always open, you’re not in this alone and I promise you things will get better.

Until next time.

Victoria Jane x

[joaquinwhorres]

The Fool (Ch. 2) {Fred Weasley x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› After getting tangled up with the Weasley Twins during the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Wren Collings’ life takes a turn for the chaotic. It threatens everything she has going for her, but she’s not convinced that’s entirely a bad thing.

PAIRING ››››› Fred Weasley x Female OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 7,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› There is no depression or mental health issues in this story, but there are mentions of death, violence, abuse, some PTSD, etc. As most of the specific warnings revolve around major plot points or are found throughout most chapters, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG-13.

A/N ››››› This chapter is dedicated to my lovely friend Emma. You KNOW why.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net

Wren wasn’t sure who was right, if it was Simon or the cards or her gut feeling about this year: all she knew for sure was that NEWT classes, and not the Triwizard Tournament, would be the death of her.

The last part was a bit of a disappointment, not so much that she wanted to die in a blaze of glory, but she would have at least liked the chance. Sadly, her June birthday saw to the fact that she would be a supporter and not a competitor.

Her small silver lining (more dull grey than a true silver) was that it was one less thing to worry about on top of her classes. McGonagall’s warning when passing over her time table that this year would have a “demanding workload” was apparently code for “grueling affair with death itself.”

Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts seemed fixated on killing her through the traditional means of excessive school work, but the rest seemed to approach her death in a more “hands on” manner.

Herbology seemed intent on strangulation as Professor Sprout has decided to begin with snargaluffs and venomous tentacula. Dodging the slippery and spiky spines soon became second nature.

Hagrid has decided to introduce them to, if not venomous, exceedingly dangerous animals. Currently the class was in the process of telling jokes to Fwoopers as an alternative method to the silencing charm. Leave it to Hagrid to find out that they just click their beak when laughing. Of course, the untraditional method had already put Kenneth Towler and Amina Qureshi into the hospital wing to treat their minor insanity. But, all things considered it was a nice reprieve.

For its part, Potions had started off the year with poisons and their antidotes, which while extremely fascinating was somewhat nerve racking. Wren was fairly certain that at some point Snape would attempt to poison her as the lone Gryffindor in NEWT level potions. That minor fear, in addition to her particular love for the magic, drove her to devoting most of her studying hours to the class.

Which seemed to come in handy now as Snape began to pass out his unannounced quiz to the class. To Wren's surprise and mild relief, it was not a practical quiz but instead a written one. She assumed this was in an attempt to catch out students with trick questions which could otherwise be avoided as long as their potions worked.

In fact, as Wren reached question four, she was sure of it:

I am called in to the Hospital Wing once again because a careless Herbology student has failed to properly cork the juice of a Venomous Tentacula and has gotten some on their skin. What condition do I find him in, and how will I cure it?

She remembered this one as it had been a precaution Professor Sprout had failed to give them. She had simply instructed them not to let any get on their skin, and it was only in potions that Snape had revealed why. It had been more of a side comment in his lecture antidotes for the plant's other means of attack: bite, spike, and venom.

The student will be a bright shade of purple, and depending on how much juice he has come in contact with, complain of a faint burning sensation. The student should also feel quite embarrassed about their negligence. No antidote is truly needed except time which will hopefully make them more careful. Should you choose to cure them, however, the quickest effective cure would be a tincture of  muddled fluxweed, shredded boomslang skin, and leech juice. The student will be extremely pale instead for a few days, but it might be preferable to the purple colour.

Wren reread her answer and felt that all loopholes were closed before she moved on to the next question.

A student suddenly collapses in the middle of class during last hour and slowly turns to stone. She has come into contact with no plants or creatures and eaten and drank of nothing since lunch. What were they poisoned with and what is the antidote?

Wren twirled her quill in her hands. Come into contact with nothing but suddenly turned into stone. They could have seen a basilisk? No, that only petrified people, it didn't turn them into stone. Could they have a Gorgon run into their class? Unlikely unless the student was in the Grecian Isles. And that was a sudden turning. This student slowly turned into stone.

It hit her, thinking of islands. Naghinbato Brew.

The student was likely dosed with Naghinbato Brew during their lunch. This poison is undetectable aside from its slight tang and it takes approximately four hours to begin affecting the person poisoned. If the student was lucky enough to fall over with her mouth open, a Wiggenweld potion with some Mandrake roots brewed in after the salamander's blood would reverse the effects. If not, an Adarna must be brought in to sing the student awake.

The remainder of the questions proved to be more and more tricky so that by the end Wren hoped for nothing but essays and practical exams for the rest of the year. The wording of each question proved difficult to navigate and at the end as she packed up her bag to leave for Defense Against the Dark Arts, she found herself casting a look at Snape who had begun to grade the quizzes and looked very much like he had just smelled something unpleasant.

Wren turned and headed out the door, eager to put the past hour behind her.

"Hey, Wren." Quick footsteps caught up to her as Cedric appeared to her left. As the only Hufflepuff in Potions, the pair had taken to sitting together as the sole representatives of their respective houses. Wren had to admit, she hadn't expected to see him on the first day of class. Nora had always claimed he was brilliant, but it had never quite shown through in any of the classes they had together. "How do you think it went?" Cedric asked, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

Wren shook her head. "I don't know. Has he even taught us any antidotes involving the dirt of a child's grave? Or was that just a veiled threat?"

Cedric chuckled. "They use it against Amnetias."

"Of course," Wren moaned.

"What combination of poisons did you list as the components for that last one. I got Angel's Trumpet Draught but what caused the vertigo?

"I said Syrup of Hellebore."

Cedric winced. "Missed that one."

"Your antidote could still work," Wren shrugged, making her way up the stairs as Cedric walked behind her. The two of them pressed close to the walls as a flood of nervous looking Hufflepuff first-years descended down the stairs. Poor kids.

"Not likely," Cedric said. "I used a creature-based remedy for the vertigo."

"Ah well," Wren sighed. "At least we'll all get D's together." Cedric laughed at this and they continued the rest of the way up. The two exited the stairwell, heading towards the classroom that had been the talk of the school recently.

Quite frankly, Dumbledore should have hired an ex-Auror much sooner. Professor Lupin had been good--loads better than Lockhart or Quirrell, or Merlin-forbid, the ghoulish woman Wren had her first year--but Moody, he had lived this. His very first lesson for all of the students 4th through 6th year had been showing the Unforgiveable Curses. Today they were supposed to be practicing resisting the Imperius Curse. This was real education.

Wren entered the classroom, peeling off from Cedric who walked over towards where Nora was sitting with their other Hufflepuff friends. Instead Wren sat at the desk across the aisle from her dorm mates-- Angelina and Alicia.

It was pitiful how quickly Wren had given into the Imperius Curse.

Unsurprisingly, Fred Weasley had been the longest hold out, beating George by a full twenty seconds. Wren suspected it had something to do with their natural inclination to ignore any given directive, but Lee Jordan hadn't done as well as Angelina, and she was by far the most rule-abiding in their friend group.

Wren spent a good portion of the rest of her week practising fortifying herself against being Imperiused so as not to embarrass herself the next lesson.

Her timing wasn't much better.

She largely chalked this up to mental exhaustion after the previous afternoon's brutal double Potions lesson. Snape had clearly been seeking retribution for the class's quiz scores. While Wren had managed to earn an E on hers, it seemed the rest of the class had not been so careful reading the questions if Snape's rant about their inattention to the finer details and nuances of potion making was any indication.

So, after that lesson on Wednesday, being Imperiused on Thursday, and failing to to transfigure her raccoon on Friday, Wren felt completely spent and ill prepared for the mountain of homework awaiting her this weekend.

"I'm not going to survive NEWT classes," Wren griped, laying her head down on her arm and giving her eyes a rest from her Charms textbook, instead gazing at a sideways Simon who looked up at her from across the table.

"You're not going to die," he shook his head, returning his eyes to his parchment. "Nora didn't read it in your cards."

Wren rolled her eyes at the sarcastic joke and propped her head back up on her palm. She might have been more annoyed at the lack of sympathy if it weren't for the fact that she brought up how busy and stressed she was each time he saw her. It was a miracle he put up with her, really. She doubted anyone else would.

"You're right," she agreed. "But, a study break couldn't hurt. We've got ten minutes 'til dinner. Plenty of time to pack up and go to our corner..." She dropped her hand and leaned towards him. Simon looked up from his work again, this time giving her a small smile as he came forward and kissed her gently and far, far too briefly. He sat back into his chair, leaving Wren hovering over the center of the table.

"I wish we could," he sighed, picking up his quill. "Truly." His eyes raked down her face to the opening of her blouse. Wren's face heated up, and she returned to her chair. "But I have to get this done. My weekend's packed as is, and they rescheduled Wizard's Chess Club to tonight so I already have less time than usual."

Wren pouted "I know," she said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I just miss you is all. I haven't seen you all week."

It hadn't been that either of them was avoiding the other--this year it just seemed like their time tables filled up too quickly with barely enough room to squeeze in each other. Each of their classes seemed to meet at opposite times so they never had a free period together. Time after dinner was largely devoted to clubs, homework, studying, and prefect duties with the weekends looking largely the same with the addition of Simon's commitments to his Ravenclaw friends and tutoring of younger students. The only small bit of time they had together during the week was the hour right before dinner on Fridays.

"Wren," Simon said, his voice taking on a slight edge. "I'm doing my best, ok?"

Wren's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. She hadn't meant to insinuate that he wasn't. She wanted to whine about how Hogwarts seemed to be plotting against them, not whine about him.

"It's my seventh year. I sit NEWTs in June. If you think professors are giving you too much, just wait 'til next year. It's all I can do to keep my head above the water. Between that and my duties," he paused, running a hand through his hair and breaking off the sentence. "When we meet to study, all I can do is study. I want to spend time with you, but I can't afford to just muck about this year."

Wren nodded, sinking back into her chair. She needed to stop complaining. She needed to make the most of their time together. She needed to remember the lessons she had learned from her parents' own marriage dynamic of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. That the Ravenclaw would always focus on the goals and achievements, but couldn't function without the Gryffindor by their side. He did need her. He did want her. She had to just get over this.

This wasn't last year.

For the remainder of their time together, the pair worked in silence. Or, at least, Simon worked. Wren re-read the same paragraph out of her textbook three different times. The silence continued even as they packed up to go to dinner and most of the way down the corridor.

Suddenly Simon tugged Wren by the arm to the side of the hall, the movement leading her to gasp in surprise. He stood before her for a second, looking down at his shoes. "I'm sorry," he apologized, dropping his hand from her arm to hold her hand. "I'm just stressed."

Wren nodded quietly, her eyes also on his navy blue and white wing tips.

"I already hate how little we get to see each other, and when you brought it up--it felt like you were trying to make me feel guilty. And it worked."

"I wasn't trying," Wren said, smally. "I was being honest."

Simon tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up so he could press another kiss to her lips. This one was far harder than the one in the library, and soon his hands moved to her waist and behind her neck, pulling her against him. Wren's brain had just caught up with the moment, allowing her to tug at the front of his robes when he broke away and leaned his forehead against hers. Tingles still raced to her nerve endings as her body buzzed from the kiss. Simon's kisses always seemed to linger--or perhaps, echo was the right word. The sweetness of the library had lasted longer than the kiss, and the dizziness of this kiss…

"We'll figure it out, ok?" Simon asked. "It's the beginning of the year. Once things settle, we'll find more time."

Wren hummed in agreement, kissing him quickly and chastely before following him off towards dinner.

Weekends hardly felt like the weekend anymore. No time with Simon. No sightings of Nora. Even her dorm mates were out of the Gryffindor tower in various parts of the castle. Everything seemed to pass in a blur. One moment she was eating breakfast on Saturday morning, and the next it was Sunday evening and she was hunched over a stack of Transfigurations books in a corner of the common room. Wren sighed as a fifth year boy burst out laughing as an Exploding Snap tower blew up in his friend's face. The noise was getting too much for both her concentration and her nerves, so, gathering up her books, she retreated up to her dorm, spreading out the materials on her bed.

An hour later, she jolted awake to the door flying open. Wren's pulse raced as she extracted her cheek from the page of her textbook and blinked around to see what had happened. Alicia stood just inside, tears streaming down her face. She also seemed surprised to see Wren, half sitting up amongst her materials with her hair sticking to her face.

"Oh, hullo, Wren," she greeted, hastily wiping at her eyes while studiously avoiding Wren's gaze.

Wren lifted herself up to a seating position, her face creasing in worry. She wished she had Nora's natural instinct to know what to do in situations like this. Did she ask questions? Pretend like she didn't notice the tears? Leave?

"Hi," Wren said gently.

Alicia walked over to her bed, bending over to pull off her shoes. She succeeded in unlacing one and threw it to the floor with much more aggression than the shoe could possibly have deserved.

"Are you all right?" Wren asked dumbly, cringing the second the question came out of her mouth. It was exceedingly obvious, even to her, that Alicia was very much not all right.

"I'll be ok," Alicia brushed aside, fighting with the other shoe.

"Ok," Wren nodded, despite the fact that Alicia still refused to look at Wren.

"Is Angelina around?" Alicia's voice came out tight and high.

Wren winced. "I think she's in the library with Lee."

Alicia nodded, evidently not trusting her voice for a response.

"If you'd like, I'll fetch her," Wren offered. Because that was the decent thing to do right? That was the right solution? Before she could get a response, Wren hedged her bets. "But also if you want, I'm a decent listener."

"It's stupid," Alicia dismissed, despite the fact that her voice seemed to crack around the word.

"Given the fact that I haven't seen you cry more than twice over the past six years, I doubt that."

"It's just...boys are morons," Alicia sat down on her bed, and Wren got up from hers, humming in agreement with Alicia's statement as she crossed the room, sinking down into the bed next to her dorm mate. She lifted her arm to put it around Alicia's shoulders before moving to pull her hair back over her shoulder as if that's what she had always intended to do. She couldn't remember: was it Angelina or Alicia who didn't like to be touched? She had to be the world's worst dorm mate. It was a miracle they even tolerated her.

"And which boy in specific is the moron that made you cry?"

Wren had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.

"Thom Spiro."

While she had expected it, she still had no idea what to say  hearing the name of the boy Alicia fancied fall from her lips. Guessing what he did hardly seemed appropriate, but given the wide range of idiocy common in the teenage boys of Hogwarts, asking seemed to be a dangerous option too. So instead, she sat next to Alicia and tentatively looped her arms around her in what she hoped was not the most awkward hug to ever be given. Whether or not it was, Alicia fell into Wren, her crying picking up.

"I caught him kissing Louisa Finch."

Wren's spine straightened, but she didn't say anything.

"Last night--we were fooling around, and he wanted--" Alicia sobbed, seemingly unable to continue as she buried herself into Wren's shoulder. "I said no. I shouldn't have--"

"No," Wren said, firmly. "Absolutely not. You're not finishing that thought."

Alicia sniffed. "But--maybe--"

"No," Wren repeated, shaking her head. "You're not for his use. Obviously he doesn't want a companion, he just wants something he can stick his knob into. You're more than that."

Alicia let out a watery laugh. "I can't believe you said knob."

"What else do you call it?" Wren asked, and Alicia laughed a bit harder. Spotting a bit of success, Wren smiled. "He's a wanker. A tosser. A prick. A dickhead. A pants thinker. A broomstick with no lift. A magicless wand. I'm just guessing on the last two."

Alicia wiped at her eyes, extracting herself from Wren's hug. "I wouldn't know."

"Because you're smart,"  Wren said, grabbing Alicia's hand and squeezing it. "If you're not ready, you're not ready. It's better to wait than dive in too soon."

A pause settled between them as Alicia silently nodded seeming to think over the statement. "You're right, but--" she swallowed, and Wren could see the tears begin to gather in her eyes again. "It still hurts."

Behind her Wren heard the door to the dorm open and she looked over her shoulder to see Angelina.

"What happened?" she asked, the tone of her voice hinting that she already suspected exactly the story she was going to hear. Alicia filled her in quickly, adding a few more details that had been lost to sobs when she told Wren. All the while, Angelina listened, her face growing stonier and stonier. "Well, you know what we have to do now," she said simply.

Alicia nodded. "Can you?"

Wren looked between the two girls, her brow creased in confusion. "Sorry, I feel like I'm missing something."

Angelina turned her attention to Wren with an echo of amusement on her face. "We have to tell the twins."

It was impressive how much food Fred and George were able to knick in just a half hour. Crisps, popcorn, apple tarts, pumpkin pasties, oranges, treacle fudge, nut brittle, and butterbeer were all placed in the center of the floor of the boys' dorm. Wren and Katie had managed to scrape together a decent stash of other candies like Fizzing Whizzbees, Sugar Quills, Liquorice Wands, and Acid Pops while Lee had convinced the other sixth year boys to leave the dorm and done an impressive job cleaning. Either that, or the boys were a lot neater than Wren would have ever expected.

Wren reached forward, grabbing a new bottle of butter beer and tapping her wand to the top so the bottle cap flipped off.

"Alright are we going to keep avoiding it or should we get to the business of bashing Spiro?" Fred asked, rubbing his hands together. "I've got some excellent remarks on the spelling of his name."

"Come on Freddie, that’s too easy," George admonished, plucking up a handful of crisps. "Let’s get straight to the point that he's a disgrace to Ravenclaw House."

Wren choked on her butterbeer, and Katie reached over to pat her back some as she attempted to pull herself together. Angelina looked more amused at Wren's reaction than the comment, and Alicia turned rather glum as she twirled a sugar quill between her fingers.

"I'm sure there's plenty of boys in Ravenclaw who have done the same," Alicia sighed, lifting the tip of the quill so she could nibble on it.

"No doubt. Boys are horrid," George agreed. "But even amongst the ranks of Roger Davies and Hector Martín-Delgado,  Spiro has a particular brain. One might even liken it to a troll's."

Fred nodded. "He's got to be the dullest of the lot. Not quite sure how he got in, frankly."

"No bloke in their right mind would choose Louisa Finch over you," Lee added, nudging Alicia with his shoulder. The corner of her mouth ticked up.

"That's one thing for sure, but the larger issue is--why snog in a public corridor if you're attempting to run around with as many girls as possible?" George asked.

Even Alicia laughed this time, spitting bits of sugar quill out of her mouth before clamping a hand over it.

"A fair question, George," Fred acknowledged, toasting him with his butterbeer. "There are plenty of empty classrooms for that."

"Or any of the not-so-secret passages," Katie added.

"Behind a tapestry," Angelina shrugged.

"In the woods at night," George suggested.

"Anyone on the grounds, really." Wren put in quickly.

Alicia smiled. "He's not exactly the best at finding spots for...rendezvous. Last time I tried to meet him, I ended up with you and Norah Randolph." Alicia gestured at Wren. This thought seemed to deflate her a bit. "It must be nice to have a boyfriend. You don't have to worry about the running around together bit."

“I wouldn’t know,” George quipped, popping some Fizzing Whizzbees into his mouth.

Alicia reached over and smacked his arm. George flinched away with a chuckle, his body slowly lifting off the floor as he tossed the rest of the sweets in his hand into his mouth. “I was talking to Wren,” Alicia corrected.

“You have a boyfriend?” Fred’s eyebrows shot up as he looked over at her, locking eyes. Her stomach flipped and she paused mid lick of her Acid Pop.

“Where was he at the Cup?” George asked. She felt more than saw his eyes on her.

Wren swallowed, clearing her throat of all sugar. This was not a conversation she wanted to be having. Not ever really, but particularly not now. “He was on holiday.”

“You may very well be on holiday, but you come back for the Cup!” Fred said, indignantly. As if Simon’s absence from the Quidditch World Cup was a particular affront to Fred’s own honor as a fan of the sport.

Wren returned her focus to the acid pop at hand. With any luck it would burn a hole through her tongue in the next twenty seconds, and she’d have an excuse to end this conversation before it steered into unwanted territory. “Well, he’s not particularly a Quidditch fan.”

“What particularly is he then?” George asked.

“Simon Chambers,” Wren answered, sticking the lollipop back into her mouth and deciding that she would not take it out under any circumstances.

“Simon Chambers? Really? You and him?” Fred asked. The shock in his voice was a bit offensive.

Before Wren could break her own resolve–which might have had something to do with why she couldn’t manage to stay un-Imperiused-- Angelina stepped in. “They’ve been dating almost two years,” Angelina looked between the twins. “How did you not know?”

The twins shared a look, and shit, shit, shit.

“Well, I just never would have seen it. You, George?”

“No, never.” No one asked Lee, but he shook his head.

Despite the small wave of relief, her stomach still felt as if it was twisted in knots, and she wished very much that all of the attention was off of her. “Look this isn’t about my love life, this is about celebrating Alicia for narrowly avoiding dating a troll’s tit.”

“Collings! Your language!” George gasped, holding a hand to his chest.

“You should have heard her earlier tirade,” Alicia said, grabbing a licorice wand from Lee’s hand.

Wren once again took the acid pop out of her mouth to defend herself. “It was hardly a tirade. None of the words I said were that bad.”

Alicia crossed her arms. “Would you use them in front of your mother?”

Wren opened her mouth but before she could get a word in, Fred followed up the question.

“Would you use them in front of McGonagall.”

Wren’s mouth snapped shut and the boys laughed.

Katie shook her head. “Never would have expected that out of you, Wren.”

“I never would have expected it out of Simon Chambers’ girlfriend,” Fred remarked.

Wren cast him a sour look, and he laughed loudly, but the subject was dropped, and they returned to eating unhealthy amounts of junk, devising new insults for Thom Spiro, and escaping all of the things that truly sucked about being a 6th year.

Despite the fact that she had to spend two hours, first thing in the morning, avoiding plants attempting to kill her, Wren found Herbology to be a bit of a reprieve. Even today as Professor Sprout taught them to wrangle with a Venomous Tentacula in order to effectively and moderately safely collect the plant’s juice, Wren felt as if she was able to breathe in the Greenhouse.

Part of this she attributed to her mother. Having grown up with a Herbologist of some note, a good amount of Wren’s childhood was spent in the gardens and greenhouses her mother tended. Of course, her mother had never let her get near anything quite so interesting as the plants at Hogwarts, but she’d always quite enjoyed tending to the honking daffodils and umbrella flowers.

Her young training had certainly come in handy during the early years of Herbology, but even now as she collected vial after vial of the juice. Wren backed away from the plant, casting an eye around the greenhouse. Many students seemed to still be struggling getting near the plants, while others, like Fred Weasley, seemed to have no issue getting near the plant but couldn’t quite figure out how to draw out the juice. She continued looking around, her eyes landing on Thom Spiro who was currently standing far too close to Caroline Purvis. She giggled as she held the vial up to the plant, and he stepped even closer, almost forgetting his role as a distractor for the plant.

Wren’s jaw clenched. George was right. Boys were horrid, and Thom Spiro was a special sort. He deserved a serious bit of justice.

As she set the vials in their holder to be brought up to Professor Sprout when class ended, an awful idea struck Wren.

It made her smile.

With one eye on Professor Sprout who was busy helping Arlan Summers and Tom Dalgliesh with their plant, Wren corked a vial, wrapped it in cloth, and stuck it in her bag.

Herbology ended soon after, some pairs, like Wren, scoring as many as four while others had nothing but a few tears in their robes to show for their morning.

Quickly, Wren made her way up the hill towards the courtyard where she could study before lunch. She had just picked out a spot lawn when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned, staring harder as if that would make things make more sense.

Alicia and Nora were….hugging?

It was none of her business. She should really sit down and open up a textbook and focus on her studies and not be walking across the courtyard right now.

"Hi?" Wren cast a look between the two girls.

"Hullo Wren," Alicia said, the words coming out a bit muffled because of the sweet she was chewing. Wren turned her attention to Nora, squinting at her cousin as if that would explain why she was suddenly such close friends to Alicia. Alicia, Wren's dorm mate, whom Nora had had maybe three classes with in her entire Hogwarts career.

As both girls looked at Wren somewhat expectantly, it hit her that she probably should have come up with some excuse to be coming over to say hello. "Hi," Wren repeated again, this time more as a statement than a question. "I just wanted to catch Nora, for a second."

"Yes?" Nora asked, tilting her head slightly.

Shit.

"Mum said to ask if Aunt Kathleen had sent you my color changing ink. She thinks I must have left it at your house when we got back from shopping."

Nora shook her head. "No, mum hasn't sent anything yet...I thought I saw that in your trunk?"

Shit. Shit.  Wren was saved from having to attempt another lie by Alicia.

"Wait--are you two cousins? I always thought you were neighbors or met on the train."

Nora laughed heartily. "I know it's hard for me to believe this moody one is my blood," she teased, poking Wren.

"To be fair, we are practically neighbors. It's just the two houses between us," Wren said, batting Nora's hand away as the other girl continued to poke Wren in the arm.

"Blimey," Alicia shook her head. "I'm just as bad as Fred and George aren't I?"

Wren wanted to assure her that she wasn't. The fact that Alicia even knew Wren was dating Simon was purely because Wren  had asked her for advice to help get dressed for their first date. The only reason Wren had known that Alicia fancied Thom was more due to Lee announcing it to the common room one afternoon at the end of last year than because of any kind of closeness between the girls. But Wren didn't get the chance because Nora spun to face her.

"Oh?" she asked, her voice going up an octave. "How's that?"

"They didn't know she was dating Simon Chambers."

“Well can’t blame them for that one,” Nora's voice returned to normal as she once more turned to Alicia, ignoring Wren's glare. “You two are never around each other.”

“Our schedules don’t match," Wren defended flatly.

Even though she wasn't facing her, Wren could see the small twinkle in Nora's eyes. “Would you say it’s…'an unavoidable conflict'?”

Wren groaned, and Nora laughed again. "Told you Wren. Divination is serious magic. Anyway," Nora flipped her plait over her shoulder. "I'm supposed to meet Arlan and Cedric so we can do some Astronomy work before lunch. Keep me updated," she added to Alicia who nodded in agreement. With that, Nora was off leaving Wren and Alicia together.

"I can't believe I didn't know Nora Randolph was your cousin!" Alicia shook her head, moving out into the courtyard. Wren followed her.

"I didn't know you were friends."

"We're not really. Or at least, we weren't," Alicia said, selecting a shady spot under a tree and sitting down. Wren hesitated before putting her own bag down and sitting beside the other girl. "We have Ancient Runes together. With Thom."

Wren's eyes widened. "Oh."

"She saw me looking miserable yesterday and made her partner switch chairs with me. Next thing I know, she's passing me toffees and I'm telling her the whole story."

Wren shook her head with a small laugh. “That sounds like Nora.”

Alicia began unpacking some parchment and books from her own bag. "There's not anything in those toffees is there? Veritaserum or something of the sort?"

Wren shook her head again. “That’s just Nora. People'll tell her anything.”

“I think we might be best mates now.” Alicia commented and Wren laughed before taking out her own work, and settling into a studious silence next to Alicia.

She hadn't planned how to get the juice into Thom Spiro' drink.

That was the primary thought running through Wren's head as she sat at the Gryffindor table, picking at her food. She had waved Alicia on to lunch before her, claiming she was just going to finish the chapter before she went in and the other girl didn't have to wait. She'd waited fifteen minutes to enter the Great Hall, sitting far along the table so as not to be seen by professors or any of the prefects who tended to group together at the middle of the table whether consciously or not.

It was about then that the thought hit her for the first time, and she had eaten most of her food and was in the final quarter or so of lunch without the faintest clue as to how to get this vial in his drink.

She couldn't very well just walk up to the Ravenclaw table and slip some in his goblet. The most interaction she'd ever had with him was holding a door open to Charms. They'd never even so much as spoken. Wren half considered dropping a knut on the floor and picking it up and handing it to him. But, passing off a knut and simultaneously pouring something into his goblet seemed just short of impossible.

Wren took a bite out of her roll, watching as more Ravenclaws came in and filled the table. She caught sight of a familiar tall and lean boy with copper hair, and her eyes lit up. Simon. She would walk over under the perfectly reasonable guise of saying hello to her boyfriend, and swap her own goblet with Thom’.

This plan quickly crashed as Simon passed Thom, picking an empty spot, naturally towards the center of the table.

Of course, Wren had considered switching her plan to a simple Pepper Breath Hex, which certainly would have put an end to his romantic endeavors at least for the next couple of days or so. But compared to her initial plan, this idea seemed so inadequate. And how could she even be sure that Alicia got to enjoy the justice? There had to be some way, some excuse, for her to switch goblets--

Of course.

It was so simple, really.

It was unlikely the teachers would expect it. If anything, it'd be written off as an unhappy accident from Herbology. If only he had properly corked his vial or used gloves to pass it along like Professor Sprout had said. Quickly glancing around to see if anyone was looking at her, which of course they weren't, Wren pulled the Venomous Tentacula juice from her bag and poured it in her own cup.

Subtly, she took her wand out of her pocket and with another quick glance up at the professor's table, tapped her own goblet, muttering the spell.

She peered inside and noticed her cup was slightly emptier than it had been.

She'd switched them. A rush of victory swelled in Wren's chest and she almost wished that someone near her would give her a high five.

It took five minutes to determine that her plan worked. A small commotion rose at the Ravenclaw table which seemed like normal lunch nonsense before the group of boys around Thom parted. Wren watched as Thom’s skin slowly shifted from its beautiful shade of lilac to a darker lavender. Giggles began to echo through the Great Hall as Thom’s distress grew more and more apparent. Wren cast a quick look up at the professors' table. Professor Snape  looked particularly unamused, but Dumbledore had a small quirk of his lips.

Wren took this as permission for herself to smile as Thom’s friends rushed a now violet Thom Spiro out of the hall and towards, undoubtedly, the Hospital Wing. Sensing this was as good a time as any to dismiss from lunch, the food vanished from the table, and the students began to file out. Wren picked up her bag, ready to go to Transfiguration and feeling particularly pleased with herself as all around her students whispered about that purple Ravenclaw!

"Fine work, Collings." Wren nearly jumped out of her skin, fumbling her books.  She succeeded in catching them back onto her arms, but one slid out, bouncing against the ground in front of her. Before she could bend over to retrieve it, one of the twins scooped it up and placed it on top of his own, significantly shorter stack of books. If two books could be called a stack.

"What?" Wren asked, her head turning to each of the twins.

"I was wondering what you were up to in Herbology," Fred, the one who was not holding her book, remarked.

"Sorry, you've lost me." Wren shrugged and gave a jerky shake of her head.

Fred gave her a wolfish grin. "Have I?" He waved his wand, and the empty vial shot out of her bag and into his hand. Because of course he could do nonverbal spells already. He wiggled it in front of her, and Wren snatched at it, surprising herself by actually wrenching it from his hands.

Wren stuffed it back into her bag, glaring at him--although the fact that he was absolutely correct took all of the heat out of her look. "That's for potions."

"And apparently poisoning Ravenclaw dickheads,"  Fred remarked.

"I didn't poison him."

She did. Technically.

"I don't even understand why you think it was me." She succeeded in making her voice slightly more casual this time which did nothing but make the boys' smiles grow.

"It's not a suspicion," Fred dismissed. " I know it was you. Saw you in Herbology."

"There's a plant that does that?" George asked with widened eyes.

"Apparently the Venomous Tentacula,"  Fred said. "Sprout said it was a poisonous juice, but I never reckoned I'd actually see someone poisoned with it."

"Stop saying I poisoned him!" Wren hissed.

George's brow wrinkled. "Is there another word for it?"

"Empoisoned?" Fred suggested.

"Envenomed?"

"Would this count as drugging?"

Wren brushed past the twins, entering the Transfigurations classroom. They followed her in laughing.

Alicia looked up from where she and Angelina were gathered together giggling. "Wren!" she called, waving her over quickly. Wren approached, dropping her books off at her desk along the way and  trying very hard to keep the smile off of her face, seeing Alicia positively beaming.

"Tell me you didn't miss it."

"Thom Spiro turning bright purple? How could I?"

"Merlin, it was glorious," Alicia exclaimed looking happily up at the ceiling as if attempting to thank Merlin himself up in heaven. When she looked back down, her eyes fell on the Weasley twins who had followed Wren over. "You two, you did this, didn't you?"

"Us? No," George shook his head.

"We'd never dope a student," Fred added, pausing for a second. "That's the word we're going with, right?"

George shook his head. "Doesn't seem quite right. I still think poison's the best fit."

Alicia's face creased in confusion, and perhaps if Wren hadn't seen fit to cast a dark look at the two, the other girls might have assumed they were lying.

"Wren Collings, what did you do?" Angelina asked, and Wren's face went slack with surprise. It was just her luck that Angelina, the one observant enough to have taught Wren and Alicia how to tell the twins apart, would have caught the look.

"Me?" Wren asked, perhaps too defensively because now Alicia's eyes were on her.

"Wren," Alicia looked at her wide-eyed. "Did you....?"

Wren made a sound of disbelief. "You think I poisoned a Ravenclaw student? I'm dating a prefect! A Ravenclaw one."

"You did!" Alicia gasped, grabbing Wren into a tight hug. "You're bloody brilliant. Honestly, Wren. I could kiss you."

"Doubt she'd let you," Fred quipped.

Alicia released Wren who stepped back, taking her book from George and hitting Fred with it. "So violent, Collings," he flinched away laughing.  "They're going to lock you up in Azkaban. You maniac."

"So if he wasn't poisoned," Angelina said, "What exactly happened to him?"

All eyes fell on Wren. "He didn't wash his hands properly after handling the Venomous Tentacula juice in Herbology today. Or maybe the cork wasn't on right and some got on his skin," she shrugged. "Professor Snape said it happens every year."

Fred opened his mouth to remark but was cut off by Professor McGonagall walking in, signaling to the students to stop talking and find their seats. Her gaze fell on Fred.

“Mr. Weasley, as you are not taking this class, please find your way to the door.”

Fred gave McGonagall a salute, and turned to leave, making sure to gesture to Wren that he had his eyes on her before heading out of the room. Wren's cheeks tinged pink as she made her way to her desk.

The light poisoning might have been a mistake.

[leahxx129]

Feels Like Home: Vengeance (pt.4) (Hvitserk x Reader)

Final part comes next week (probably sometime during the weekend). I am having difficulties writing it, but hopefully it won’t suck. Anyways, please enjoy this chapter! :)

Summary for pt.4: After the knockout you wake up in a seemingly foreign place but as your memories start flooding back, fury takes over you and you can’t resist the urge to seek vengeance any longer. 

Warnings: cursing, graphic description of multiple homicides

Word count: 1.512-ish

Read PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3.

You wake up to the scent of wildflowers and when you open your eyes, you realize you are in a meadow and Hvitserk is laying on top of you. His smile is beaming brighter than a thousand suns and you feel yourself falling in love with him all over again.

Is this a dream? Or a memory? You think it’s both.

“You have never looked more beautiful than now, min elskede!” he whispers, completely enthralled by you.

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Haven’t your father taught you that it is not decent to lie, my Prince?”

“He has and it is not a lie! You truly look mesmerizing! Are you questioning my honesty?”

Not waiting for the reply, he leans in and starts biting down your neck playfully, making you giggle in the process.

“Stop, please! Stop! I cannot breathe!” you muster in-between giggles and a couple of bites later he leans away.

“You have my heart, Hvitserk Ragnarsson! Promise you will take good care of it?”

He places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I promise!”

“Good!” you reply and slowly start unbuttoning the top of your dress.

His eyes follow your movement hungrily.

You feel a hand shaking you.

“Nat? Nat! Wake up!” somebody whisper-shouts.

Hvitserk’s beautiful orbs stare into yours when your eyes finally flutter open. Concern distorts his handsome face.

“Are you okay?”

“Well, this pounding in my head is killing me, but other than that, yes, I am fine!” you answer, wanting to ease the new-come pain by pressing your palm against your temple, but the shackles on your wrists prevent you from doing so. “Where are we?”

“Besides the obvious answer that in a cell? I wish I knew.”

“Great!” you let out a frustrated sigh and begin taking a better look at your surroundings.

“Gods!” you utter unconsciously a minute later as you recognize the numerous small streaks carved into one corner of the cell.

“What is it?”

Ignoring the inquiry, you crawl there on all fours and trace the lines with your fingertips. You remember engraving them many-many years ago. Even some of your blood is still there... The king put you here to make you relive the memories that often haunted your dreams even nowadays…

“That fucking bastard!” you scream and smack your palm against the wall.

“Nat! I adore you but I will not ask again kindly – what is it?” Hvitserk warns with a hint of impatience in his tone.

You slowly rotate your head to his direction, trying your best to hold back tears.

“I know where we are. We’re in the castle’s prison tower.”

“How do you know this?”

“I told you I would answer every question once this is over, love.”

“Well, I am not so sure we will live long enough to see the end of it. The king is probably trying to set up a deal with Ivar and I know my brother… if the trade is our life in exchange for peace, he will not choose peace.”

You crawl to him and take his hands into yours.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life!”

“Then believe when I say we will make it out alive, okay?”

He looks at you dead-serious but nods eventually. You squeeze his hands in reassurance.

“Now… do you know how may guards there are?”

“Two, I think.”

“Perfect!” you exclaim, then continue to map the plan “We will lure them into the cell then disarm them and take our leave!”

“And how exactly do you wish to do that?”

Instead of a verbal reply, you throw yourself to the ground and start shaking uncontrollably. A second later Hvitserk catches on and begins to yell in their language at the top of his lungs.

“Guards! Guards, come! The lady is ill, she may be dying! Guaaaaards!”

It’s not long before two men appear in front of the cell’s door.

“Oh, Lord! What is wrong with her?!” one questions with a heavy accent.

“Does it matter? King Willelmus commanded us to keep her alive regardless of anything and I do not wish to find out what happens if we fail to do so…” his partner answers him.

“Then come in and help her!” Hvitserk bellows at them and they flinch.

You hear keys turning and the cell door slowly opens up with a creaking sound. You sneak a glance at what’s happening and see a tall, helmetless man approach you. Alright. Here goes everything.

You stop shaking when he crouches down next to you, and in a blink of an eye, you hook your legs around his neck, cutting off his airways by pressing your thighs together as much as you can. Hvitserk almost simultaneously jumps up from his sitting position and headbutts the other guard unconscious.

The man in your stranglehold is gasping for air desperately and though you feel him getting weaker, you do not have the time to wait it out. You turn your hip in a swift motion and a loud crack echoes through the cell. In the meantime, he stops wiggling.

Hvitserk takes the keys from the guard he knocked out and frees both of you.

“Alright! Now take the other weapon and follow me!” you order as you pick up a sword, but he is not moving. “Is something wrong, my love?”

“No, nothing. It’s just that man is one lucky bastard.” he replies, staring at the corpse entranced.

You shoot him a puzzled expression, making him continue his train of thought.

“He died with a woman’s thighs around his neck. When my day comes, I wish to go the very same way.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“That day will be here sooner than you think if you don’t move, Hvit! Now, come! I know where the king is. All of this will be over if we kill him! Nobody will continue fighting for a dead leader whereas on the other hand, everybody will start fighting to take his place on the throne.”

You enter the castle’s tiny chapel silently and struggle to suppress a smile – King Willelmus is here alone, just as you anticipated. You press your index finger to your lips signing Hvitserk to stay still and quiet in the shadows. Every fiber in his body wants to protest, but the mad fire in your eyes convinces him and he nods in agreement. You approach the praying king soundlessly.

“Greetings Will!” you shout jovially in his language, making the man jump to his feet and turn around.

He was not a young man when you met him, and based on the wrinkles and grey hair, time did not serve him well since then.

“Nat… How did you find me? What is happening?” he stutters incredulously, dismay growing in his eyes.

“Well, you always were a coward, Will. You would hide here whenever your army fought your battles. I figured this time is not any different and I was right.”

You take a couple of steps closer to him, dragging the tip of your sword along the chapel benches, and he takes just as many away from you.

“And as for what’s happening… I don’t understand why you appear so surprised. I promised you I would be back and that I would personally drag your soul to the place you call ‘hell’, didn’t I?”

He starts receding but the space soon disappears, and his back is pressed flat against a statue.

“Whatever you plan to do, Nat, don’t! I am sure we can sit down like civilized people and discuss our differences…”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Will. At least not anymore… Besides, if my assessment skills are not failing me, I think I have the upper hand over here.“ you take a meaningful look at your weapon then at his empty hands. “So please keep your ridiculous suggestions to yourself.”

There’s a second of silence and you know he’s evaluating the situation, trying to find the best tactic to boost his chances at survival.

“I am sorry for everything I have ever done to you! Alright? I have realized the error of my ways and I truly apologize! This is what you wanted, is it not?”

Your lips curl into a cruel smile.

“Not quite. It’s a little too late for apologies, old man. Now kneel!” you scream the last part and he obeys reluctantly.

You push the sword’s blade against his throat and descend in front of him to be face to face.

“Do you remember what I told you I would do to you upon my return? Answer!”

“You said you would perform a blood eagle!” he whispers with a trembling voice.

“Yes, exactly. But there is no time for that now, unfortunately, so I’m settling on a quicker solution.” you caress his face with your free hand. “Helheim or hell… it doesn’t matter how you call it, in the end, it is all the same… Pass my kisses to father when you meet him there, would you?”

With a rapid movement you slash his throat open.

Read PART 5 (final part) HERE.