#i only have two concerns with starting t in terms of my health and body

[alcameso]

“im not even scared of the ass hair... and im not even scared of the ass hair!”

me, sharing some of my thoughts on starting testosterone

[yuzurujenn]

[2024.11.07] Yuzuru Hanyu x Ajinomoto VP Kurihara Hidefumi Interview

"Yuzuru Hanyu: Reminiscing about the 'culmination' of the Beijing Olympics and a behind-the-scenes look at his 4A challenge with Ajinomoto VP Kurihara Hidefumi / Interview 1"

Hanyu has walked a solitary path through three Olympic Games, exploring nutrition and refining both his mind and body. In the 2014 Sochi Olympics, he became the first Asian male skater to win gold. At the PyeongChang Games in 2018, he became the first man in 66 years to win consecutive gold medals. In Beijing in 2022, he made Olympic history by becoming the first to be certified with a quadruple axel. Alongside him, providing support, were Kurihara Hidefumi and the team from Ajinomoto's Victory Project (VP).

Kurihara: Someone told me that there was an athlete who was having some concerns about nutrition, body building, and health. That’s when I was introduced to Hanyu.

Hanyu: That’s right. It was before Sochi... before that. I was 17.

It was the end of April 2012. It was the summer after he had moved from Sendai to Toronto, Canada. At the time, he was a second-year high school student with no interest in food at all.

Kurihara: The first thing he told me was, "I don't really like to eat."

Hanyu: I don't have a strong stomach to begin with, so sometimes I can eat and sometimes I can't. It was right after I'd gone to Canada, and there were times when the local ingredients and cuisines "suited me" and "didn't suit me." In that situation, we started by thinking about what was easy to eat, then how and when to take in the nutrients. When I couldn't eat, I was taught a lot, such as how to eat supplements. In our sport, we need to restrict ourselves (for jumping), and I was afraid of my body becoming heavy. I had a strong image of food as a diet rather than nutrition (intake).

Ajinomoto has been supporting the Japanese national team since 2003, helping athletes with "food and amino acids." This year marked the 22nd anniversary of their partnership with the Olympics, starting from the 2004 Athens Games to the Paris 2024 Games. Hanyu has been receiving "exclusive" support from them for over 10 years in winter figure skating.

Kurihara: Until Sochi, we basically focused only on physical and mental “health” and took the step of “eating three well-balanced meals every day.  Figure skating in particular is a competition in which you express your emotions and worldview to judges and spectators through your performance. So, you absolutely had to be mentally healthy as well.

Hanyu: Leading up to Pyeongchang, the themes shifted to "weight" and "activity level." When did you start that?

Kurihara: It was two years after Sochi. While managing weight and body composition, I quantified daily training volume and intensity as 'load (stress)' and monitored changes in condition over time, aligning it with performance.

"Yuzuru Hanyu: The Dream of Achieving the Unprecedented Quadruple Axel... The Key Is 'Tendon Reflex,' Along with Carb Restriction and Pressure Training / Interview 2"

Hanyu has won every title on the ice, including the six major titles at world championships known as the Super Slam, but his final dream in competition was to successfully complete a quadruple axel.

Hanyu: In terms of nutritional management, the approach leading up to the PyeongChang Olympics became the basis. Around the ages of 23 or 24, after winning two consecutive gold medals, I started saying, 'I don’t think I like feeling heavy.' Like a marathon, it’s a sport where the damage to the internal organs is greater due to constant shaking, so I also took care of my internal organs (to prevent food from remaining in my stomach). We also discussed whether it would be better to stay at the weight when I was performing at my best, or whether it would be better to build up muscle strength, as I was aiming for a quadruple axel.

Kurihara: I could tell at a glance that you had trained your legs a lot before the Beijing Olympics, such as squats to strengthen the hamstrings (back of the thighs), so I was surprised and you said, “You can tell? But…” And then you added, "The muscle strength for jumping is looking good. Now it’s all about the tendons." I was just about to say that the key to jumping a 4A is "tendon reflexes." Apparently, you had been thinking the same thing.

Hanyu: In terms of global trends, research is progressing rapidly and some things are being scientifically proven.

"Tendons" connect muscles and bones and act like springs, storing and reusing elastic energy. To use this tendon reflex to jump the quadruple Axel, Hanyu actively took amino acids and worked to strengthen his body in preparation for the Beijing Olympics. This moment was one of synergy between Hanyu’s deep understanding of body mechanics and Kurihara’s suggestions.

Hanyu laughed, saying, "I’ve been brainwashed by Kurihara," and added, "I’m really hungry to know ‘how can I improve.’ My own knowledge was never enough. That’s why I asked Kurihara and also did my own research. We shared everything, and it helped us refine things."

On June 1, 2021, before the Beijing Olympic season began, he held an online meeting with his trainer. Everything was aimed for the success of the quadruple Axel.

Kurihara: We discussed everything from tendon reflex to intense glycolytic training and aerobic training. I also developed a new amino acid that makes the tendons healthier, so I designed my training with the hypothesis that it would definitely benefit the 4A.

Hanyu: There was interval training, low-carb (sugar restriction) to pressure (blood flow restriction) training and heart rate monitoring, and both explosive and endurance training. By then, it was no longer just about 'health'; the foundation was already laid, and everything was built on top of that. (The Beijing Olympics) was the culmination of it all.

"Yuzuru Hanyu: A Touching Exhibition, ‘The best performance until the very end’ – Never-Before-Revealed Story / Interview 3"

"Life isn't all about being rewarded. But I’m happy now even though I wasn’t rewarded."

Such was the famous quote that emerged from Hanyu at the Beijing Olympics. He ended up in 4th place. He was struck by bad luck when his quadruple Salchow was blocked by a hole in the ice. Although he missed out on a medal in his third consecutive Olympics with a surprising 8th place finish in the short program, his challenge to focus all his energy on the men’s free skate on February 10, 2022, amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, remains a vivid moment. The world’s first certified "4A" (quadruple Axel) was etched into Olympic history.

Kurihara: There’s something I’ve really wanted to ask you. The 4A was officially certified in Beijing… but it was still a disappointing result. Yet, you still contacted me for the exhibition (in 10 days), saying, "Kuri-san, I’ll gather energy again" and "I’ll do it." I think it was 3 or 4 days after the free skate. How did you feel during that process of replenishing energy and glycogen in the days that followed?

Hanyu: Honestly, I was really disappointed with my performance. Of course, I didn’t plan to do the 4A, but while some people see exhibitions as a kind of festival, for me it’s a place to showcase the qualities of an athlete. I thought that "all impressions would be decided" by how well I could show myself there. I was feeling down, and I thought to myself, "Why did I sprain my ankle again?" (He injured his right ankle before the free skate). But I couldn’t let my guard down. I thought, "I'll give it my best until the very last performance."

Kurihara: I was watching it on TV in the cafeteria of the athlete's village, and I was crying my eyes out. It was the best performance. It’s a moment I will never forget in my life, and I absolutely wanted to tell you that.

Even now, after turning professional and successfully performing the first-ever solo ice shows, that determination has not changed.

Hanyu: Even now, I’m still in that same mindset. How can I deliver the best performance until the very last moment? I’ve continued along that path. My right ankle was really hurting, but more than that, I wanted to show something amazing. Athletes compete in competitions with the support of so many people, including Kuri-san. In a way, I wished I could have given everything in the free skate, but I couldn’t, and it was frustrating. So, I wanted to put everything into the exhibition. I wanted to repay everyone who’s supported me by showing my best every time and producing results. That was both the pressure and a driving force for me.

"Yuzuru Hanyu: Insights from the Two-Time Olympic Champion – 'Research Based on Me' – Knowledge Accumulated as Guidance for Shows and His Juniors / Interview 4"

At the Beijing Olympics, Kurihara, who supported the entire Team Japan, entered the athlete village and worked with a chef based outside the village to provide Hanyu with 'victory meals.' He worked hard to maintain and even increase his lean body mass. Similar to the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics, where the men's events were scheduled in the morning, Hanyu was required to wake up around 4 a.m., and Kurihara carefully coordinated the schedule with him.

Hanyu: The Olympics have a different schedule compared to regular competitions, so for example, there’s a routine for athletes, like 'meals must be eaten a certain number of hours before.' But often, it's not possible to follow that. We had many discussions about things like 'Should we have a snack here?' and other details.

Kurihara: We even went as far as discussing areas close to the science behind it in detail. All that’s left was to ensure that you were sent out onto the ice in the best shape. That was my role.

Hanyu: In figure skating, I was basically the only one at competitions (with exclusive support), so I think the tension while waiting for the results must have been different. It was always like, "I did what I had to do, now all I can do is wait" (laughs). I probably seemed "troublesome," but I learned a lot. I didn’t even know how many calories were in a bowl of rice, but they helped build the foundation for me to think about physical conditioning.

On the other hand, the insights gained from this support were fully accumulated on Ajinomoto’s side.

Hanyu: Every week, I would submit data on my training load and body composition and combine it with my activities to assess how my condition was. I think it probably became a part of the research as well. Did the formula match the intensity that an athlete actually feels? Even though I was only 19, I was already an Olympic gold medalist. So, over the course of more than 10 years, I think they conducted research using me as a base, examining body composition, activity levels, and calorie consumption.

After turning professional, he continues to shine in unprecedented ice shows, performing alone for over 90 minutes. His national tour, announced on October 4th, will begin on December 7th, the day he turns 30. He will once again prove his evolution. In the world of competition, the trial and error between Hanyu and Kurihara will be passed down as a success story. At the 2026 Milan-Cortina d'Ampezzo Olympics, it will serve as a clear guide to light the way for his juniors.

"Yuzuru Hanyu: The Only Male Figure Skater to Achieve the Super Slam and His Career Highlights... Celebrating his 30th birthday, National Tour Kicks Off in One Month"

Professional figure skater Yuzuru Hanyu (29), who won the men's Winter Olympic gold medal twice in a row, reminisced about the 2022 Beijing Olympics, expressing his gratitude for the support he received in terms of conditioning, which he described as the 'culmination of his training.' He recently had a conversation with Kurihara Hidefumi (48), team leader of the "Victory Project (VP)" by Ajinomoto, which supports the Japanese Olympic team. In the interview, Hanyu looks back at his journey to attempt the unprecedented quadruple Axel (4.5-turn jump), leading to a world’s first certified "4A." With the pre-season for the 2026 Milan-Cortina Olympics now underway, the insights gained by supporting Hanyu’s two Olympic golds will continue to shine brightly for the next generation of Japanese athletes.

Yuzuru Hanyu (羽生結弦) Born December 7, 1994, in Izumi Ward, Sendai City. He began figure skating at the age of 4. He moved to senior level in 2010. He has won the All-Japan Championships 6 times. In 2020, he became the first male figure skater to achieve the "Super Slam" by winning all major junior and senior titles: Junior Championships (2 titles), the Olympics, World Championships, Grand Prix Final, and Four Continents Championships. In 2016, he became the first to successfully land the quadruple loop. He also set the world record for the highest score in the Short Program (SP), Free Program (FP), and Total Score (total 19 times). After returning to Japan from Toronto, Canada, during the COVID-19 pandemic, he honed his skills in his hometown of Sendai. He graduated from Miyagi Prefecture's Tohoku High School and Waseda University's School of Human Sciences (distance learning program). On July 19, 2022, he turned professional, and in February 2023, he held the first-ever solo skating performance at Tokyo Dome in history. This December 7, on his 30th birthday, he will kick off his national tour Yuzuru Hanyu ICE STORY 3rd – Echoes of Life – TOUR (3 cities) at Saitama Super Arena. He is 172 cm tall and has blood type B.

Kurihara Hidefumi (栗原秀文) Born May 2, 1976, in Itabashi Ward, Tokyo. He devoted himself to baseball from elementary school until graduating from Rikkyo University. He joined Ajinomoto in 1999, working in sales and the "Amino Vital" division, before becoming involved in the "Victory Project" (VP) in 2004. His failure to properly manage his conditioning during his university days, when he aspired to be a professional baseball player, became the driving force behind his work in supporting athletes. He is now considered the engine of the VP. For the 2024 Paris Olympics, he was in charge of supporting athletes including the judo siblings Abe, Tashiro Miku, and Tatsuru Saito, as well as the swimming delegation.

Ajinomoto Co., Inc. "Victory Project" Launched in 2003 in collaboration with the Japanese Olympic Committee (JOC), the "Victory Project" is a nutritional and dietary support initiative for the Japanese national team. In 2010, the Ajinomoto National Training Center (NTC) opened the " Kachimeshi (Victory Meal)" cafeteria. Since the 2016 Rio Olympics, they have set up the "JOC G-Road Station" nutritional support facilities at both summer and winter Olympic venues, providing Japanese light meals with the support of VP members, chefs, and registered dietitians.

Source: https://www.nikkansports.com/sports/news/202411060001227.html https://www.nikkansports.com/sports/news/202411060001228.html https://www.nikkansports.com/sports/news/202411060001229.html https://www.nikkansports.com/sports/news/202411060001230.html https://www.nikkansports.com/sports/news/202411060001231.html

[eliteayurveda]

Coping Strategies for Depression and HS

People who have persistent skin disorders such as hidradenitis suppurativa (HS) are more likely to develop depression.

Apathy, sad mood, hopelessness, impatience, and lack of desire are common symptoms of depression in patients with HS.

Coping with depression and HS is a continual journey, but there are measures you can do and people you may call out to for assistance.

Life with hidradenitis suppurativa, often known as acne inversa, is fraught with difficulties. Many persons with HS endure the psychological impacts of having a chronic skin condition that causes misery in their lives, in addition to painful physical symptoms. In fact, those with chronic illnesses are more likely to develop depression.

Depression in HS Patients

“Studies reveal that depression is really common in both pediatric and adult patient populations who have HS because of the effect it has on your mental health well-being,” he said. “In one study, more than 38% of participants with HS had depression, compared to only 2.4 percent of healthy non-HS control groups.” The pain, inflammation, and emotional stress associated with HS appear to play a significant influence in the occurrence of depression in this population, as well as many other chronic and long-term diseases.”

An analysis of ten studies discovered that depression and anxiety are widespread in patients with HS and advocated for greater research to assist identify and treat mental health issues. In another study, researchers in Denmark looked at over 7,000 persons who had been diagnosed with HS. Participants with the skin disease had higher rates of depression and suicide than those who did not.

Note: If you or someone you know needs help, you can contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 9152987821

Depression Symptoms in People With HS

Several signs may indicate that you are depressed as a result of your HS condition. These are the following list of possible indicators:

Apathy

Depressed state

Embarrassment

The fear of social stigma

Hopelessness

Irritability

Inadequate motivation

Concerns about sexual activity

According to the American Academy of Dermatology Association, feeling unhappy, hopeless, or apathetic for at least two weeks may suggest depression.

“People with HS often feel the need to self-isolate, they have mood disorders and low self-esteem, which correlate with depression, as well as physical limitations in day-to-day activities due to the very painful open sores and lesions on the skin that we know are part of having this condition.” When you have these feelings and symptoms, it is usually a sign that you should get help.”

How Depression Affects Life Quality

Because of feelings of self-consciousness, a negative body image, and low self-esteem, HS can be emotionally draining, especially if you experience chronic pain and flare-ups. It is also difficult to navigate social situations. According to a survey the physical and mental impacts of HS can have a substantial impact on quality of life.

Researchers from the University of Copenhagen interviewed 12 people and held focus groups to learn more about how HS affects quality of life. They discovered that living with HS had a substantial psychological and social impact on over 60% of the participants. Participants discussed emotional issues, self-worth, social stigma, intimacy, general dissatisfaction, and the desire for a community where they can securely communicate their concerns with individuals who understand what it’s like to live with HS. Some also cited difficulties taking time off from work and being worried of losing their employment as a result of having to obtain sick leave on multiple occasions.

“I was doing so well with so many things to help my body and mental health,” one of our patient said. Then I started thinking about all HS has and will continue to take from me. For a few weeks, I lost track of what I was eating, my stress level, and my mental health. So, I’m not going to let my HS continue to take stuff away from me. So I’m back to find my way.”

Obtaining Depression Treatment

If you are experiencing symptoms of depression, it is critical that you speak with someone who can assist you. While your primary care physician and dermatologist can assist in the treatment of physical symptoms of HS, you may also benefit from visiting with a counselor, psychologist, or other mental health specialist. Furthermore, support groups and networks can provide a secure and friendly environment in which you can openly share your experience.

“I’ve had this for 35 years,” one of our patients tells us. To varied degrees, we all experience physical and mental suffering. We understand how it feels to wonder, ‘Why me?’ I’m sure many of us have experienced losing friends and social contacts as a result of HS. You are NOT alone, and it is safe to express yourself here. Nobody will judge you for feeling down. “

In some cases, medicine might help alleviate depression. “This is a genuine question for your doctor.” “If you want to treat your depression with medication, talk to your doctor to see if it’s a viable option,” Yu added. “There are other ways to treat and cope with depression, including therapy, social support groups, exercise, meditation, and other homeopathic routes.”

Depression Coping Strategies

Finding techniques to cope with depression while living with HS is one of the most effective ways to enhance your quality of life. In addition to getting professional assistance as necessary, you could try daily rituals such as:

Contacting a loved one

Exercising

Going for a walk in the fresh air

Meditating

Speaking with family or a support group

Keeping a journal

“Whatever activities you choose, make the commitment and consistency to check in with your own mental health.” But, most importantly, schedule particular times during your workday, school day, and at home when you can prioritize yourself and give yourself the grace and kindness to exist with HS — and everything else going on in your daily life,” 

“For the longest time, I felt alone and still do,” our patient says. I hide my low self-esteem and despair from my family. Now that I’m in my 30s, I’m not going to let high school define me. Don’t give up hope. Get out of the house and do something entertaining if you start experiencing bad thoughts.”

We also recommend practicing mindfulness and repeating self-affirmations throughout the day: “You could say something positive to yourself, like ‘I am beautiful,’ ‘I am strong,’ or even ‘I have HS and I am fill-in-the-blank.'” To acknowledge your condition and the fact that you’re owning it, repeat the affirmation to yourself throughout the day and to your friends and family. You’re taking back control. You’re expressing your emotions. You recognize the societal stigma and challenge your negative ideas. ‘Yes, this is difficult,’ remind yourself. Yes, it might be painful at times, but you have control. You’re working your way through it day by day.”

Managing depression and HS is a never-ending process. The good news is that there are steps you can take and individuals you may contact for assistance. “If you have HS and depression, don’t be afraid to seek help. It does not imply that you are inferior or weak. You are not restricted to experiencing life in this manner. There are support groups available. There are family and friends to talk to, as well as customs to experience and try. “There is light at the end of the tunnel,” Yu explained.

Talk to People Who Understand

We also have a strong community of thousands of our ongoing and previous HS patients who ask questions, give advice, and share their stories with others who understand life with HS.

Do you suffer from depression as a result of your HS? Share your thoughts in the comments section below, or start a discussion on our community space.

While HS is still not fully understood, experts believe that emerging research will provide alleviation to those with HS in the future. “While there is still a lot we do not know about HS, there has been a lot of research in the last several years, fortunately, we have made several breakthroughs that have resulted in a wide range of treatment options for this condition.” We hope that more people become aware of this issue so that they can seek treatment sooner and lessen its impact on their quality of life.”

[ginwalt]

kiss my bruises better (Natasha x Wanda x Fem!Reader)

Summary: When Reader gets injured during a battle, it is up to her girlfriends Natasha and Wanda to mother hen her back to health.

Warnings: Violence and mentions of injuries in the beginning. Other than that just pure fluff.

A/N: Guess who got COVID and now has way too much free time??? :,)

It started with Fury sending you on an undercover mission alongside Natasha, Wanda, and Steve. Your objective was simple: obtain the dangerous alien artifact from the terrorist organization's lair and get your asses it back to Avenger's Tower. Nothing you and the rest had not dealt with before. However, there was one thing you four did not anticipate. There were hundreds of the organization's agents crawling around the base. Every corner they snuck around, there was another group of grunts patrolling. As a field scout, you were used to sneaking around; however, this was on another level. By the time Steve signaled for you to return to the meeting spot over the comms, you had already been spotted.

The group of half a dozen agents took one look at you before charging forward with their alien weaponry. One of them, a burly man in an all-black armored jumpsuit, hit a large button on a security panel near the ventilation shaft you had shimmied out from minutes prior. Being a scout, you were only equipped with the bare minimum of weapons a dagger, semi-lethal taser, and a small crossbow. In other words: not weapons one would use in a 1-versus-6 fight. Letting out a grunt of frustration as a loud alarm started to blare, you shouted a warning to Cap and your girlfriends' over the comms.

You leaped backward, away from a meaty fist that had just threatened to shatter your jaw into splinters. Flicking open the holster that held your taser, you slammed the muzzle of the taser gun into the side of the man's head and released the probes. The man convulsed, falling to the tile with a heavy thud. Another agent, a towering woman, let out a shout of outrage in a language you assumed to be Russian. She and the four other remaining against charged at you, weapons at the ready. You stumbled blindly backward, hoping to reach a staircase, window, elevator, anything. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side that day. Your back collided violently with the paneled wall behind you.

A curse that could make a sailor blush fell from your lips as you palmed around frantically for your dagger. The blue and black blade was an anniversary gift courtesy of Natasha, an odd gift to be sure; however, it was about as romantic as the assassin got. Grasping it firmly in your sweaty grip, you blindly swung at one of the grunts before you. The pommel collided with his nose in an upward arch, causing the man to fall to the ground, blood dripping from his now crooked nose. Apparently, the swing was hard enough for his nasal bone to fracture into his brain.

You took a step to sprint through the opening the dead man had cleared for you but, the burly woman seemed to beat you to the punch. She grabbed violently at your arm, twisting it at an odd angle behind your back. You slammed face-first into the wall behind you, causing your nose and lip to start leaking blood at an alarming pace. You groaned and squirmed, trying to free yourself from her iron fists.

"Stop struggling, bitch," she ordered, slamming your head against the solid paneling of the wall once more. Pain blossomed along the crown of your skull, and your vision started to blur in response. "Who sent you," she snarled against your ear.

You spat out the pool of blood that had collected in your mouth at another agent's feet, "Fuck you," you snarled, your voice muffled from being shoved against the wall.

The agent you had spat at raked the brass knuckles clenched on his fingers along your arm. Deep cuts spilled over with even more crimson. You let out a strangled scream as he twisted them further into the new cuts. The woman kneed her leg against your arm with a sickening pop. Your vision danced with black and white dots as pain shot through your body. You were about to scream when a loud bang sounded from behind the woman and her cronies. She let you go in shock, causing you to fall to the ground next to the dead agent. You moaned in pain, curling your now broken arm against your chest.

"Y/n!" A familiar voice shouted from the other end of the hall. It sounded fuzzy as if someone had shoved headphones over your ears. You gritted your teeth and forced your increasingly heavy head to look at the source of the noise. Through the dots dancing in your blurring vision, you were able to make out a furious Wanda, next to her an equally angry Natasha. You opened your mouth to reply when only a pained wheeze escaped. A boot was pressing against your back, applying pressure to your fractured forearm. You let out a scream of agony as tears spilled down your face. Before your consciousness gave way, you beheld Wanda exploding in a bright ball of scarlet towards you and the agents.

"...turn the TV down, you're going to wake her." You slowly came back to yourself at the sound of voices around you. Your mind was swimming in fuzzy warmth, a dull ache exploding in through your temples like a timpani. Despite the pain that seemed to radiate through every inch of your body, you were also strangely cozy. A soft warmth was wrapped around you like a cocoon, not to mention the pillow that seemed to meld with your head and abdomen. You hummed contently and nuzzled further into the cushion.

"Are you sure she's okay?" A concerned voice rang from directly above you. The voice was warm and familiar, like a well-worn sweater. "She's been knocked out for almost four hours. Plus, my legs are starting to go numb."

An amused huff sounded from behind you, "Banner said the painkillers would make her drowsy."

"Yeah, but... four hours? What if something is wrong with her?"

"You know Y/n, she does things on her own terms. She will only wake up when it suits her." Both the voices laughed at that remark. You fought the urge to huff in protest; you weren't that stubborn. The pillow beneath you shook with the light laughter and shifted. You furrowed your brows; cushions didn't usually chuckle. You grumbled at the disturbance and cracked your eyes open. Your so-called pillow had caramel red hair and a black Def Leppard t-shirt.

"Wanda?" you mumbled drowsily. You lifted your head slowly from the place it was resting against her chest. Your face flushed slightly at the thought of using her breasts as a pillow for so long.

She smiled warmly and lifted an arm that had been resting protectively along your back to stroke your hair. Her other hand had been tracing circles along your side for the past few minutes. "Good afternoon, sleeping beauty."

"Where are we?" You attempted to look around; however, your head exploded with pain at the effort. Wanda seemed to notice your wince because she carefully guided your head to lay against her chest once more.

"We are back at the tower. You slept the entire flight home," Natasha, who must be on the other side of the couch, replied.

You groaned, "Everything hurts."

"Being jumped by a group of terrorist agents will do that to you," the assassin replied sarcastically. You kicked lightly at the girl, your foot nudging her thigh. She laughed snarkily and shoved lightly at your foot.

"Nat, stop teasing her," Wanda chided playfully, threading her fingers through your hair. You practically purred at the attention, nuzzling your face against her. She pressed a soft kiss to your aching temple in response.

"Why am I getting lectured?" Natasha protested in mock indignation.

"Because you are not the one hopped up on painkillers."

"But I am the one who detained the agent that had broken her arm. Surely that deserves some credit."

Your eyes shot open once more at the mention of the mission, "Shit, the terrorists. What happened to them? Is everyone okay?" You jolted up, attempting to sit up fully. Natasha was at your side in an instant, hand resting on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We're fine; we handled them," she soothed, rubbing your back gently. "Everyone's safe, I promise."

You relaxed slightly, "And the artifact?" the hesitance was evident in your voice.

Natasha sighed kissed your cheek in reassurance, "We were not able to save you and obtain the alien artifact. They were on high alert at that point, and it was too risky."

You pursed your lips, shoulders drooping in shame. They had failed because of you. Dangerous technology continued to threaten the world because you were unable to do your job.

Wanda must have read your mind because she pulled you closer to her and placed a kiss on top of your head. "Hey, this isn't your fault. None of us knew that the compound would be so well protected."

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. Your right arm, the one the woman broke, was wrapped in a thick plaster cast the color of a hospital gown. Your other arm was dressed in a thick layer of bandages, covering the jagged cuts left by the bronze knuckles.

"Honey, there was no way we could have known," Wanda murmured, using a finger to lift your chin. "If anything, it's our fault for not being there in time. If something were to happen to you, I don't know what I would do." She placed a protective arm around your back as if she was shielding you from an invisible threat.

"You did very well defending her," Natasha soothed, kissing Wanda's cheek. She turned to you with a smirk, "You should have seen her; I thought she was going to send the whole building crashing down with how angry she was."

You smiled, "I'm sure you two did great, as always."

"She's right though, this wasn't your fault, nor was it a significant loss. Rogers is already with Stark and Banner at the location of the artifact. They plan on regrouping back here before following through with the next phase of the plan."

You sighed in relief, "That's good. So when do we go through with the next step?"

Wanda scrunched her nose and smiled, "It's adorable that you think you are going to be anywhere near the next phase of the plan."

"You can't be serious. I'm perfectly fine!" You insisted. Natasha raised her brow and pressed a finger against the bandages on your left arm. You winced and let out a quiet yelp before batting her hand away. "Okay, I may be a bit injured, but other than that, I'm okay to fight."

"Y/n, you have a minor concussion, a broken arm, and a broken nose," Wanda pointed out, her accent thick with concern.

"Nothing I hadn't had before," you shrugged.

"Y/n don't start," Natasha warned, standing from her place at your side. She strode out of your line of view.

"Where are you going?" You whined, not wanting her to leave.

"I'm just getting you water, Babe. Don't worry, I will be right back." You nodded, settling back against your other girlfriend. Wanda reached over you to pull the blankets further up your body. You hummed contently and sighed against her chest. Wanda was always warm; her skin seemed to radiate a cozy heat that filled you with a sense of peace. Her protective arms were coiled firmly around your waist.

"How are you doing, Honey?" Wanda asked, nuzzling against the top of your head.

"Tired," you complained, hiding your face away in the crook of her neck.

"I think I should talk to Bruce before allowing him to hop my girlfriend up on painkillers. He gave you a pretty high dose." Wanda tilted her head so that her cheek was resting against your hair. Her hair had a lingering smell of citrus and lavender that set off the butterflies in your stomach. You hummed and inhaled once more. Wanda chuckled, her smirk evident in her voice, "Are you smelling my hair?"

You paused, "...No."

The witch's shoulders shook with laughter, jostling you slightly. "You know I can read minds, right? I know you're lying."

You huffed and burrowed your face further into her neck, "Asshole."

She kissed the top of your head, "Love you too."

"I'm back," Natasha announced, striding towards the couch.

You turned away from Wanda's neck so that your back was against her front. The assassin sat down on the coffee table next to you, holding a glass of water. You licked your chapped lips and reached out to take the drink. Natasha raised a brow and pulled the cup further away from you. A frown formed on your lips, realizing what she wanted. "Oh, come on, Nat. I don't need help drinking water," You rolled your eyes.

Natasha tsked, "I'm not risking it, you may still be a bit sluggish from the meds, and I don't want you spilling all over yourself and Wanda," She tucked a strand of hair from your forehead. "Come on, Baby. Let us take care of you."

Biting your lip, you nodded exasperatedly, "Fine." Natasha carefully placed the lip of the glass near your mouth and tipped a bit of water out. This went on until only a quarter of the glass was left. You had not realized how thirsty you were until you saw the glass of water. "Thank you," your eyelids drooped, feeling tired once more.

"You should rest some more," Wanda murmured.

"But, I just woke up," you argued, words slurred with sleep.

"And if you ever want to go on another mission again, you will take the time to rest and recover," Natasha insisted, tucking the blanket around your body. She settled at your feet, pulling them into her lap. You opened your mouth to argue; however, Wanda had started stroking your hair once more. The words were lost in your throat as your eyes slipped shut. The warmth from both your girlfriend and the blanket seemed to wash over you in waves. The last thing you felt was a soft hand tracing patterns along your arm.

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Spider's Bride Part 5

Pairing: spider!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, forced marriage, smut, breeding.

Words: 1835.

Summary: Whoever your stepmother sold you to, he wasn’t as honorable as she claimed.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

_____________

That night was the new beginning. Despite Bucky refusing to do anything except kissing you, you spent several hours talking and getting to know each other like lovers would, finally. You ceased to be afraid of him, the only one who had truly cared about you and ready to smother you with love and constant attention. In one week you tried watching Bucky regaining his true form, and, though it wasn't easy, you didn't feel repulsed or frightened to death. He was just different. Slowly, you came to terms with it.

The more open-minded you became, the easier it was to accept the reality you lived in now. You were lucky to have Bucky's sisters always encouraging you to get to know the world around you better: you could talk to them about things you were too embarrassed to ask your betrothed, and they had never even once refused you. At one point you started going out to the town, Bucky always close to you to protect you from anything you deemed scary. Though you were an outsider, someone who didn't even belong to the same kind as them, you were treated with respect and provided with support you needed so much. You even made a few friends, two female arachnids and a couple of elderly dark elves.

Then the day of the wedding had come. By this time you got accustomed to Bucky's spider form so much that being around many of his relatives - dear Lord, since he lived alone you could never guess he had such a big family - wasn't frightening at all. More than that, you really enjoyed being carried by your beloved on his spider-like body because the fancy wedding dress heavily embroidered with pearls and silver threads made it nearly impossible to move for you. Funny, just months ago you couldn't force yourself to look at those eight long legs with claws on the ends.

"Bucky, on your right!" Before the vicious lamia attacked the two of you, you had casted a barrier, protecting Bucky from a strong snake tail ready to strike.

Snapping out of his thoughts, your husband let out a strong silver rope that wrapped itself around creature's tail while Bucky charmed the monster, making it fall to the ground with a loud thud. You exhaled loudly above his ear, rubbing his chest and clinging closer to him.

"Dear, it's not the time to space out just yet." You said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. "I don't want the kids to worry about their careless dad getting injured."

His cheeks grew warm at the mention of your kids, beautiful boy and girl you had given him a few years ago. There was nothing else that could bring Bucky more joy than watching you and them playing in the evening, his house filled with cheerful laugh and loud voices. He had never known he could ever give someone as much love as he gave his family, but Bucky didn't know someone could love him so strongly in return either. He had never felt happier in his entire life.

He adored graceful forms you had granted your children, their bodies looking even more human than his sisters', but when he talked about that, you always interrupted him saying that he doesn't look less beautiful to you just because he has more hair and his body is darker than theirs. It was unfair, you said and kept kissing him until he melted from your touch. One day you had to give him a big lecture upon judging the others based on their looks. Bucky couldn't possibly teach his own children they were better than others purely because they looked more crab-like rather than spider-like!

He smiled at you, eyeing him with concern. You were the best mother to their kids he could ever wish for.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He kissed the tip of your nose, making you giggle.

"Are you worrying about the children again?" You asked gently, knowing they were perfectly alright with Arabella and Miria. "Daddy?"

Oh, you loved watching him getting as red as tomato. What a little minx! You knew perfectly he got aroused when you called him that.

"Let's get out of here." He left a glowing charmed mark on the ground, showing where the lamia laid and surrounding it with a barrier. "I think we've done enough."

"If you refer to patrolling the forest, then yes." You smirked, and he felt warmth spreading in his chest as he remembered how eager you had been when he made love to you in whatever form. "You know, if not those damn creatures, I'd prefer riding on your back naked. It feels so good when I touch your lower body with my bare skin."

"Dear, I will fuck you against the tree right here if you don't stop." He growled, getting frustrated he couldn't touch you properly while you gigled in his long dark hair.

Bucky hurried further into the woods to the territory you two had already checked and cleared from any Hydra's monsters. Oh Lord, he desperately wanted to see you naked with your breasts and hips fully on display in front of him, calling him daddy when he fingered you, listening to your mewls and moans. It didn't help that you were already massaging his lower body, exactly the mound that covered his painfully hard cock.

"It's not even the mating season yet, but you're so eager." You laughed a little, and Bucky bit his lips.

"Look who's talking. I can feel you growing hot down there, little one."

You squeezed your thighs around his torso and started murming something that made him want to throw you to the ground and get on top of you immediately. Slowly stripping him of his leather jacket, you took off your own once your husband stopped, finding the right spot, and then you quickly slip off your pants.

"Come here, naughty girl." Bucky growled, helping you to come down and then lifting you up with his strong hands so you could lean to him. "You're too eager today. What happened?"

"I wanna mate, Gods, I wanna mate with you so bad." Your breath grew hotter as you felt his mound opening and his long, already leaking with precum cock touching your thigh. "Please. Today... isn't my safe day."

"Shit." He moaned, his instincts getting the better of him in an instant when you said you were ovulating. Damn it, he couldn't resist sliding inside your wet pussy, bottoming you out in one thrust. As you let out a hiss of pain and pleasure - he was damn big, and sometimes it wasn't easy to take him all - Bucky claimed your mouth with his, his grip on your body growing stronger. "You want me to knock you up again, honey? You want me to fill you with my seed? Because I fucking will."

You couldn't even answer him when Bucky rutted himself into you, drawing mewls and gasps from you as he fucked your relentlessly against the tree just as he promised, pressing the tip of his cock into your cervix. His mouth was on your neck, leaving little spots on your gentle skin, marking you his, claiming you just like the first time. Huh, you knew you needed to talk to him about having more kids when he wasn't aroused so much as your body was barely prepared for such intense session - he kept thrusting even after you cummed on top of his cock, screaming his name.

"Bucky, p-please, ah-"

"Little minx. You wanna grow heavy with my brood again, and you didn't tell me?" His dangerously low voice made your pussy throb around him, and you tried to find purchase in his shoulders, gripping them tighter. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ahh, I'm s... s-sorry, daddy. I wanted t-to surprise you... ahh!" He inched you closer, holding your soft body against his, your lovely breasts pressing into Bucky's chest as he bottomed you out again, drawing a fucking scream from you.

Carefully sliding his hands down your body, he took you by the hips, and you crossed your legs behind his lower back, your toes curling. Your back arched of its own accord when you felt the coil starting to build up in your belly again, and you moaned louder, throwing your head back. The next second Bucky attached his lips to your neck, groaning at how tightly your walls were clenching him. The thought of you getting pregnant again made him burn with desire to fill you up to the brim.

"I'm gonna mate you till I'm sure I knocked you up." He whispered hotly in your ear, rolling his hips the way it made you see stars.

You were screaming his name as he picked up the pace, practucally pushing you into the tree, leaving a pair of scratches on your back, but you didn't care. The only one on your mind was the man who kissed and sucked and bit down on your skin, fucking you until you nearly passed out. As you squeezed him tighter, cumming again, you felt him finally stilling and releasing his hot sticky seed into your unprotected womb.

"I love you." He exhaled, his eyelashes trembling as he kissed you, grasping your ass as he filled you to the brim with his cum.

"I love you too." You muttered, touching his face with your lips. Mating with your lovely monster felt so fucking good.

You couldn't possibly imagine the depth of Bucky's gratitude for giving him a chance, for letting him love you, but he couldn't imagine how much you would grow to care about him either. Even after those years you two spent together, sometimes he was afraid you'd still flinch when he came to drop a kiss on your cheek or rub your back. However, the only thing you did was encouraging Bucky to continue, and then things often moved to your bedroom. The only reason why you didn't give him more children was because bearing an arachnid wasn't easy, and Bucky wanted to take care of your health, not destroy your gentle human body with constant pregnancies. But today... today you made him the happiest man in the world again.

Carefully lifting you up from his cock, Bucky took you in his arms like a bride, watching you breathing tiredly. He felt like he could explode from all the love gathered inside him.

"Oh, don't tell me I need to dress now." You pouted, and he chuckled, casting a spell - the very next second your body was fully dressed in your clothes again. Though you could feel his cum dripping out on your panties, it didn't bother you now. "You know, you have to teach me this thing if we will keep patrolling the forest."

Bucky got red when you winked at him and then laughed out loud, starting to walk back to the cave hidden deep into the woods.

THE END

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki    ​@helenaeisenhower  @villanellevi  @hurricanerin  ​@void-hoechlin  @abyssaint @navegandoaciegas  @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @ladyacrasia  @iheartsebastianstan  @what-is-your-wish  @princessofdarkwinter @mandiiblanche  @live—deliciously @heeeyitskay

[emu-lumberjack]

Don’t Answer the Phone Tired pt. 2

It’s the next day and Damian has gotten even less sleep, thankfully he’s not too tired after a some surprise news shocks him awake.

———————————-

Hey guys here’s the sequel everyone was super excited for. I really hope y'all like it, I definitely wrote it tired, but it should be coherent. 

Read part 1 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

Read part 5 here

He really needed coffee, especially after dealing with his brothers after they found out about Marinette. The youngest Wayne was up till four yelling at them to lay off, among more colorful terms, everyone time they called. He would’ve just ignored them but he knew that ignoring them would just wind up with him getting a surprise visit sooner than later. The fresh Parisian air felt good against his face as he stood on his balcony.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair!” Marinette's voice called from the street.

“Only if the prince is willing to protect me from my aggravating brothers!” He cracked a smile as he shouted back.

“Alas I cannot do that, but would my damsel take this as a reward?” She held up a purple travel mug and a bag filled with a croissant.

“I think I could take that deal. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He ran inside to grab his bag and throw on some day clothes before meeting Marinette.

“Have I mentioned you’re the best girlfriend? Because you’re the best girlfriend.” Damian said walking up to Marinette.

“You could stand to mention it more.” The bluenette replied handing him his promised coffee and croissant. He gulped down the coffee barely taking a breath until Marinette laughed and said, “Slow down there, you won't have any time to savor any of it.”

“If you want to stay up late dealing with my brothers, please be my guest but if not,” He gestured with his cup, “I’m gonna drink as fast as I want to.” Marinette nodded to that.

“Was it that bad last night after you left?”

“By bad do you mean each one of was trying to call me every five minutes out of ‘concern’ for my health or to check to make sure I hadn’t kidnapped you.” Marinette laughed again. “Anyway if I didn’t talk to them at all they probably would’ve hopped on the first flight they could to see what’s going on.” They stopped at the light, when Damian turned to look at Marinette he noticed she was avoiding his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about my brothers. Would you Angel?”

“Well, I might have gotten a text from Aurore to keep you away from school because three older guys had come and were asking around for you. One of them was half asleep and she couldn’t figure out how he was functional.”

Damian paled, after a moment he said “And why then are we going to school, I personally want to get as far away from them as possible.”

“She sent me a follow up saying to get there as fast as possible. Lila told her lie in front of the wrong person and, well I’ll show you the video.” Marinette handed her phone to Damian who hit play on the video that was up.

The forms of Grayson, Todd and Drake half asleep leaning on Jason. A voice came from off screen saying,

“Girl I can’t believe Tim’s not taking you to the Wayne Gala.” Alya, Damian thought. She was beginning to walk into frame with someone else. He knew who she was before she spoke.

“I know right. It’s just why would he invite someone else!” There in all her demonic glory stood Lila Rossi, not yet realising who she was walking next to.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you talking about Tim Drake? Adopted son of Bruce Wayne?” Grayson asked innocently. Damian knew that voice, it was the same one he used when he was going to demolish someone. “Well yeah. He’s her boyfriend, who are you anyway? Why do you care?” Alya was immediately there to be Lila’s guard dog.

“Well my name is Richard Grayson-Wayne. Tim’s brother and Bruce's son. I care because unless he’s as good at keeping secrets as Damian is, which he’s not, then he isn’t dating this girl.” Alya paled, the camera zoomed in on Lila’s face. She looked like she was about to be sick

“Huh? I heard my name.” Drake, who was in a rare moment of lucidness, looked at Dick.

“Are you pulling a Damian and secretly dating a girl in France?” Todd still Drake’s support was glaring at Lila.

“What?! Are you kidding me? No!” Drake looked like he was just hit with a cement slab.

“What are you talking about obviously you’re dating Lila! Stop Lying! I bet you're not even the real Tim Drake.” Alya was shouting now drawing crowds from around the courtyard. Drake looked at Grayson confused.

“She does realize that we can sue her if she’s really telling these types of lies right? Like she can’t be doing that.” Tim stood in front of Dick and turned his back to the paled liar and fuming reporter

“Oh leave Lila alone!” Alya came towards Drake and shoved him into Grayson.

“That does it.” Todd who had moved off to the side started walking towards the brunette rolling up his sleeves. Grayson and Todd recovered quickly, and moved to hold Todd back.

“We should get there before Todd kills them.” He said calmly before handing the phone back to Marinette. “Otherwise we won’t be able to take her down ourselves.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

In no time the duo were walking up the steps of Françoise Dupont where the sounds of shouts could be heard. The scene they entered was somehow more chaotic then the one Aurore had sent in the video. Todd was hanging upside down, the rope leading up around the handrails on the second floor then back down to a corner of the courtyard. Drake was on the bench snoring softly with his head almost touching the floor. Dick was on the phone, presumably with some lawyers. The entire bottom courtyard of the school was littered with papers and balloons were strewn about. Lila was nowhere to be seen.

“It looks like they’ve taken care of the situation, and they haven’t spotted us yet so I’m just gonna…” Damian began.

“There he is! Demonspawn, finally I thought you’d never get here.” Jason interrupted. He had spun around and caught sight of Damian and Marinette walking in. Dick turned around at the sound of Jason’s voice before saying “Yeah Duke I’ll have to call you back, but we need to sort this Lila stuff out.” He put his phone away before walking over to a corner of the building where he took out his knife and slashed a piece of rope. Jason came crashing down.

“A little warning next time Dick.” Jason said brushing off some dust that had settled on his tan leather jacket. Each one of them were dressed in their civilian clothing. Dick had on a pair of blue jeans with a grey t-shirt paired with some black sneakers. Jason was wearing his usual jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket combo. Drake was in some weird form of pajama and day clothes mixing a graphic T-shirt and red flannel with grey sweatpants and slippers.

“Now I know that we have to be dreaming. Demonspawn is actually wearing a sweatshirt. I don’t even think Alfred could get him to do that.” Damian had run out once he heard Marinette’s voice that morning so he had just thrown on a pair of pants, a shirt and a sweatshirt barely thinking about it. He had become relaxed in Paris.

“What the hell are you guys doing here.” Damian’s face was quickly beginning to match a tomato in color and he was backing out of the entryway.

“Well obviously we had to come and see you, and meet your girlfriend.” Dick who had walked over to Marinette grabbed her hand and shook it. “My name’s Dick, the grumbling menace over there is Jason. The one currently passed out is Tim, nice to meet you, uh”

“Marinette.” She supplied. “I also have to thank you for taking care of a certain person, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get rid of her for a year.”

“Oh it was no problem at all, especially after she claimed she was dating Tim.” Damian quickly interrupted the two with a few well placed coughs. “I don’t mean to cut this short Grayson but we have to be getting to class.”

“Oh don’t worry. Bruce already called you out for the day, and Marinette I’m sure you can miss one day of school.” Jason said walking up behind Marinette.

“As much as I’d love to, I have two tests today. I’ll be happy to meet up with you afterwards though.” Damian’s eyes widened as the words sunk in and he realized what that meant for him.

“Please don’t leave me alone with them.” He looked at Marinette pleadingly.

“You’re gonna have to tell us how you got him to say please, it took Alfred a month to do that.” Jason remarked.

“Maybe another time, now I’ve gotta get to class.” She gave one look at Damian and there was laughter in her eyes.

“I hate you.” He said.

“No you don’t.” She called back, disappearing around the corner.

“So how bout we wake up Timmy and go get breakfast. I for one am famished.” Jason came up and put a hand on Damians shoulder.

“Ya know that doesn’t sound so bad Jason. Then Damian can tell us all about Paris, and the people he’s met.” Dick stood in front of Damians glare gleefully looking at Jason.

“I will kill you both and Father will never be able to find your bodies.”

“Yeah but then Marinette will be disappointed. For some reason she gives off the ‘thou shall not kill’ vibe.” Grayson said. “Now how are we gonna wake Tim up.”

“Oh I’ll  take care of it.” Damian said grabbing his Ice filled water bottle.

 Tag List: 

@ur-average-reader @kristycocopop @k-laconia-bug1 @smolplantmum @dast218 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @g-arya @loysydark @mewwitch @itsemeanne @hauntedstudent99 @clumsy-owl-4178

[rainecreatesstuff]

A Well-Known Fact

Word Count: 8610

Warnings: Janus kinda freaks out when Roman gets mad, but... I think that’s about it? It’s sorta described as a panic attack so. Look out for that.

So, um, this was just an excuse to write Janus-centric fluff, umm.... enjoy?

———————————————————————————————————

A well-known fact about Janus: he is cold-blooded. Or, at least, he thought it was well-known. Remus has known for quite some time, and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. And whenever Janus was around the others in the Mindscape, he was always somewhere warm, be it under a blanket, by a fire, or near warmed up electronics.

He hadn’t considered that even the most observant of them would fail to observe this.

So now, here he was, trying to figure out how to explain it while Patton kept grabbing his hands, trying to warm them up.

“It really isn't a big deal, Patton. This is just the way I function.”

Patton frowned.

“Sorry kiddo, but no. Virgil runs cold, and he’s warmer than you. Have you been in the Imagination? Are you feeling okay?”

Janus sighed as Patton led him to the couch and threw a blanket over him.

“Yes, I have, and yes, I’m feeling fine. I’m not joking, this is literally how I function.”

Patton huffed.

“You are aware I’m cold-blooded, right?” Janus waved away the hot cocoa the other had made.

“I- what? What do you mean?”

Janus really didn’t want to have to explain this. In all honesty, it was a little embarrassing. He could handle the frightened glances at his scales and his eye, and his forked tongue and his lisp. They were part of his snakelike appearance, and he could easily shapeshift them away if he wanted to.

But his cold-bloodedness? That was something that he couldn’t change, that proved he was inhuman.

And of course it had to be Patton Dad Popstar Morality Sanders that he was explaining it to. He had nothing against Patton, however he was aware of the moral side’s squeamishness. Not only was he morality, but he was also Thomas’ emotions. And Janus was almost certain that the side that had screamed at cartoon spiders would find his inhumanity disturbing, or at the very least frightening.

“I don’t function the same as you, and the others. My body can’t regulate my temperature. I was in the Imagination today, and Roman and Remus tend to keep it cold and rainy during fall, so it makes sense that I’d be a little colder than usual.”

Patton didn’t seem frightened, just… startled.

“How does that work? We’re not real. Well, of course we’re real but… we don’t have like… physical bodies? So how do you get all cold n’ stuff?”

Janus shrugged.

“I don’t know. Just happens. I’ve gotten used to it after all these years. As long as I go under my heat lamp for a while every day during the fall and winter, I’m fine.”

Patron huffed.

“Well, that’s no good! You can’t be locked up in your room all the time just ‘cause you’re chilly!” Patton threw another throw blanket over him.

“When Roman gets back I’ll ask him to put a lamp in here, if that’s okay.” He smiled widely.

“Uh- yeah, um that’s-that’s fine.” Janus accepted the cocoa and snuggled into the blankets.

That had gone… well. Too well. Was he just pretending? Patton didn’t like lying, he knew that, but he’d seen him repress several times, so hiding discomfort was a strength of his.

Janus eyed him warily.

“You’re not… upset?”

Patton’s eyes widened.

“Oh, Jam, did you not tell me ‘cause you thought I’d be weird about it? Of course I’m not upset! When Virgil started hanging out with us we had to make a few adjustments to make him more comfy, and we’re more than willing to do the same for you!” Patton gripped one of Janus’ hands in his own, rubbing the back with his thumb.

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Patton grinned.

“Of course, kiddo! I was gonna make some cookies, do you wanna help decorate them once you’ve warmed up some?”

Janus felt a ‘no’ at the tip of his tongue, but then Patton looked up at him with his signature puppy eyes, and Janus couldn’t have said no if he’d tried.

“Yes, I’d love that.”

Patton squealed.

“Alrighty! I’ll go get them started then! Lemme know if you need anything!” He bounced up from the couch, planting a kiss on Janus’ head before skipping into the kitchen.

The next person he told was Roman. He’d been expecting it, as a request for a heat lamp would probably seem pretty odd.

Roman had come into the commons while Janus had been basking. Which, in all honesty, just meant he was lying under the heat lamp and playing on his phone while Patton cooked dinner. The prince had walked right over, sat beside him, and stayed there for a few minutes.

“Okay, I don’t get it.”

Janus rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get what?”

“Why you wanted this put in? It’s not really that great. Actually, it’s a little uncomfortable.” Roman moved to sit on the couch.

“What does it matter to you?” Janus hissed.

God damnit Patton was looking at him all disappointedly.

“Kiddo..”

Ughhhh not with that voice, he can’t do that, that’s unfair.

“Imcldbldd”

“What?”

“I’m cold blooded.”

Roman froze for a second.

“What the fuck, Jan?”

Patton kept a close eye on the two, sending a worried glance in Janus’ direction.

“It’s totally my fault, I obviously chose to be Deceit.”

“No, fuck, not like… I meant that I’ve literally dragged you into the cold, rainy imagination for adventures and you didn’t fucking say anything?” Roman looked furious.

Janus’ eyes widened. That’s what he was upset about? Not the fact that Janus, a master of deception and an embodiment of lies was literally cold blooded, but the fact that he’d never complained about it?

“Oh, please do act like you wouldn’t have flipped out if I’d told you before all of… this.”

Janus curled in on himself a little more.

“Before the Melding? Yeah. But it’s been cold out for weeks. And you’ve been into the Imagination like… every few days, and that’s just with me! I have no clue how many times Remus has dragged you out there!” Roman was back beside Janus again, and holy shit was he angry, he’s angry, hurt, he might hurt you-

Patton.

“Hey, Roman, kiddo, can you come help me over here?” Janus mimicked Patton’s voice, and placed in just right so it would bounce off the walls correctly.

Roman got up, his eyes still filled with fire.

“We are not done talking about this. As soon as I’m done helping him, I’m coming right back here.”

Janus took the chance to sink into his room and lock the door. Now that he’d slowed down, thought it through a bit, he regretted it. But… he was self-preservation. As good as Virgil was at keeping Thomas out of dangerous situations, Janus would always have a little bit of that fight or flight response built into him. He didn’t cause it, but, clearly, he responded to it, whether he liked it or not.

Knocking, now there was knocking at the door. He took a deep breath. Roman wouldn’t hurt him. He was safe around Roman.

He opened the door, and Roman pushed past him, sitting on his bed. Janus slowly moved to sit across from him.

“Okay, one, was there any particular reason you rushed out?” Roman looked concerned, now, but still so mad.

“You just… scared me.” Ugh, what was he doing?

It had been a rhetorical question, this was stupid. He was supposed to keep feelings like these ones hidden. It was what he’d decided on ages ago. What was he doing?

“I.. okay, one sec. No. I am not mad at you for being cold blooded. I am upset that you didn’t tell me before I brought you into situations that could’ve hurt you.” Roman set his hands on Janus’s arms, lightly rubbing them with his thumbs.

“It’s not life-threatening. Nor is it threatening at all. I just get a little… uncomfortable.”

Roman looked crestfallen.

“Jan, you of all sides should know that your safety and comfort is, and always will be more important than whatever adventure I go on, or whatever story I tell. I need you to tell me if something could put your health, physical or mental, at risk, okay?”

Janus felt like he was going to cry. Which was strange, as he hadn’t cried since they were little. He nodded softly, the lump in his throat stopping any words he might have said.

“C’mere,” Roman pulled him into a hug.

He squeezed tightly before pulling back, wiping a tear from Janus’ face.

“Roman, Janus! Dinner’s ready!” Patton called.

Roman lifted an eyebrow at Janus, to which he let out a small laugh and shook his head. Roman grinned, then stood up and offered Janus his hand.

“Thank you.” The words were thick and dripping with way more meaning than was required for a hand up, but, well…

It looked like Roman understood.

Next was Logan.

Logan had approached him and asked if it would be okay if he asked Janus a few questions. As much as Janus didn’t want the others dabbling in his business, Logan had seemed so excited, which was a rare occurrence as of lately. So he let himself be lead into Logan’s room, sitting on his bed as Logan took a seat at his desk.

“So, it has come to my attention that you are ectothermic?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I believe Roman used the term cold-blooded?” Logan grabbed a lemon yellow notebook from a drawer, along with a pen.

“Mm. Yes, that I am.”

Logan flipped the book open and began writing.

“Fascinating! It had not occurred to me that this was even possible, what with us being projections of light while being on the physical realm. Does it affect you while in the physical realm and the mental realm?” Logan’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes, and it carries over between the realms.” Janus supposed he should feel like Logan was invading but… something about Logan’s analytic speech patterns made it seem less invasive.

“Mm… and I believe Roman also mentioned the Imagination affecting you more than our rooms and commons?”

“No, it’s not that the Imagination affects me more, it’s that right now the twins have made a point of keeping the Imagination cold for fall.” Janus couldn’t help it if his voice turned a little bit exasperated.

“Ah, yes, that would make much more sense. Have you any idea why you’re ectothermic?” Logan continued carefully writing in his notebook.

“Remus said at one point it might be due to my animal being a snake, but I don’t think that’s it. The scales and tongue are simply my appearance.” Janus fidgeted with his gloves.

“So you cannot shapeshift it away?”

“Mm, no. I must say it is incredibly irritating impersonating you, or Patton for that matter. Your short sleeves are horribly uncomfortable.” He smirked, moving so he was sitting criss cross on the bed.

“Well, it is incredibly irritating being impersonated, so perhaps it makes up for itself.” Logan glared at Janus for a moment, and he returned it.

Janus started softly laughing.

“Don’t laugh over my intimidating glare, it makes it seem insincere.” Logan’s voice kept an edge, but his eyes were smiling.

“Of course, Oppy, I would never even think of it.” Janus purred.

“Oppy? As in, the Opportunity rover?” Logan raised an eyebrow at Janus.

“Yes, I heard you had quite an attachment to her.” Janus smiled.

“I- um, yes, I suppose I did enjoy gathering information on the rover. The team that worked on her-it- had some interesting experiences during its mission. It supposedly lasted 50 times longer than they expected it to, and-“ Logan paused.

“I apologize, that was not your reason for being here. I will refrain from… rambling.”

Janus frowned a little.

“I wouldn’t mind veering off topic. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do.”

Logan paused, his face blank, as if he was rebooting.

“I… okay. May I ask another question?” Logan tapped his pen against his notebook.

Janus gestured for him to continue.

“While I do enjoy the topic of the Mars rovers, I am a little confused as to what resemblance you see between them and myself.”

Janus smiled.

“Well, for one thing, robots are your thing. I may not have been present during Thomas’ puppet fiasco, but I did catch wind that you changed your appearance to match a robot rather than a puppet.”

“Oh, it was a puppet. I had not had enough time to plan and create a robotic body for myself, so it was merely a puppet shaped like a robot.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But besides that, you do remind me of those excitable lab robots who are simultaneously amazingly intelligent, kind, and assholes.”

That startled a laugh out of Logan, to which Janus held back a grin.

“Ah, thank you, I’ll make sure to write that down.” Logan bit back a smile, closing his notebook and placing his pen in its holder.

“If you… wanted to, I would not object to learning more about the Mars rovers.” Janus coaxed Logan a little, smiling when he saw his eyes light up.

“Oh! Yes, of course! The Mars rovers, affectionately nicknamed the “Adventure twins,” Spirit and Opportunity, landed on Mars on January 3rd and 24th, 2004 on a 90-day long mission, but they both lived well beyond that time. Opportunity, specifically, spent 15 years on Mars, collecting data that has proved that Mars could have sustained microbial life.” Logan tapped his hands on his legs as he spoke.

Janus asked questions every now and again, and Logan answered with a small smile and a light in his eyes. It was great to see Logan ramble without caution, much like when they were kids.

When Logan had finished, he seemed to be in an even better mood than before. His hands continued tapping, and Janus could see him fighting back a smile.

“While I have you here, Janus,” Logan glanced to the side for a moment, then nodded his head and continued, “Patton and Roman wanted me to ask you if you would accompany us at “family movie night” this Friday. Do not feel inclined to participate, I understand if it would be too much, as you are not one for social events, but if you would like to come, the invitation is there.” He bit his lip gently as he ended, glancing up at Janus.

“While I would love to, I’m not sure everyone would be as comfortable as they would prefer to be if I were there.” Janus’ tone held a pinch of remorse.

“If you are referring to Virgil, we talked to him beforehand and he stated that he would not be opposed to you joining us.” Logan seemed to be bargaining in some small way.

Janus nearly laughed.

“I’ll consider it, then.” He stood up and smiled at Logan and watched as the teacher startled, turning away a bit.

“Yes, that is… satisfactory.”

“And Logan, do-“ Janus’ voice abruptly cut out.

“Janus? Are you alright?” Logan leapt to his feet, placing a hand on Janus’ arm.

“Ye-“ It didn’t hurt, oddly enough.

He just couldn’t speak? Realization flooded Logan’s eyes, and he led Janus out of his room and into the commons, sitting them down on the couch.

“Are you alright now? It seems my room began to cut off your… backwards speaking. As well as lying.” Logan kept his hands on Janus’ elbows.

“I’m fine.” Janus smirked as Logan’s eyes narrowed.

“Communicate a falsehood, please.”

“My my Logan, whatever has drawn you to the dark side?” Logan rolled his eyes affectionately at Janus’ teasing.

“Janus.”

“Fine. Mmm… You enjoy nearly all jelly brands, other than Crofter’s.” Logan levelled him with a glare, causing Janus to cackle.

“Why must you hurt me like this?” Logan asked, his face completely devoid of emotion.

Janus' laugh rang loud and clear, and Logan grinned, for just a moment. He let his hands move to Janus’, squeezing them gently.

“You must be more careful in the future; spending too long in my room could permanently alter your function.”

Janus lifted Logan’s hands to his mouth, kissing them gently.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, sweet Logic. I’m fine.”

Logan went pink, breaking eye contact with Janus.

“Well, caution will do no harm to anyone. Please tell me if you begin feeling different while in my room, okay? You would do the same in Patton or Virgil’s, would you not?”

“Of course. I’ll tell you in the future, promise.” Janus rubbed his thumbs over Logan’s hands.

Logan threw him one last glance, then sighed and nodded. He pulled his hands away, adjusting his glasses.

“I should return to my work. Thomas has a brainstorming session with Joan soon that I must prepare for.” Logan stood up, adjusting his tie.

“Have you bored of my company?” Janus smirked.

“Oh, shush,” Logan smiled back, pressing a soft kiss to Janus’ cheek. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

Janus let out some sort of squeak which Logan seemed to take as affirmation, as he returned to his room.

He should probably have felt a little irritated that Logan would do that and then run off but… when he blushed pretty like that? Janus couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Virgil had already known. Janus had told him long before the Melding, way back when Virgil had still ID’d as a “Dark Side.” He’d actually been the first person Janus had told.

They’d been about twelve, when Virgil had only been around for a short while. He’d walked into Janus’ room during one of Janus’ cold spells, when he’d had several blankets piled on him, and was shaking like a jackhammer.

Virgil had run in, asking what was wrong. Janus had, begrudgingly, explained what had happened, and Virgil had gone quiet. He’d lifted the blankets, sitting beside Janus and cuddling him as he warmed up. He’d been the one to suggest the heat lamp, and Janus would forever be in his debt for it.

Now, Janus sat on the floor with a heavy blanket draped over him as they watched Hercules. The four lovebirds were cuddling on the couch, Roman loudly belting out I Will Go the Distance. Patton was giggling, singing along to the parts he knew as Logan and Virgil watched on with endearment.

Janus couldn’t help but feel like a fifth wheel. Remus had decided not to join them that night, so Janus felt a bit invasive. Virgil continuously glanced over at him, as if ensuring that Janus wouldn’t ruin anything. The others also kept looking over to Janus, though it was decidedly for different reasons.

Patton seemed nervous, and Roman was trying to convince Janus to sing with him. Logan just seemed fond.

Janus tried his best to keep his attention on the movie, but it was hard when he continuously caught them looking at him out of the corner of his eye. At one point, Patton had gotten up to refill their popcorn, and had run a hand through Janus’ hair as he passed. Janus tried not to lean into it too obviously, but he’d practically purred at the gesture.

Virgil had glanced over to him, and Janus had caught his eye. He… he didn’t seem mad, or even upset. Just… nervous. It was the same way he looked before Thomas performed, or asked a cute boy out.

Janus and Virgil had at least been on talking terms for a while, so… what was that about?

The movie finished, and they voted on the next movie. Roman tried to rig the vote for Moana, but Janus immediately caught it and reversed the rig so it would favour Big Hero 6, Logan’s requested movie. Roman picked the paper from Janus’ hat and gawked as Janus snickered to himself on the floor. Virgil and Logan helped Roman move on from his mourning as Patton giggled and raised an eyebrow at Janus.

Janus shrugged, his signature gesture for “Yeah, I fucked with it, what can ya do?”

About halfway through the movie, Janus began to grow cold. As he noticed his shivering, he placed a gentle mirage over himself so the others wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t to the point where he was in any danger, barely any discomfort, and the movie would be over soon, so he could just leave his heat lamp on as he slept. Virgil frowned at him, and Janus froze.

There was no way he could see through the mirage. Janus had been very careful while placing it. Virgil, especially, shouldn’t have noticed it. As anxiety, mirages worked quite well on him.

“Hey. You’re cold. Come here.” Virgil spoke softly, but sternly.

Janus huffed.

“I’m fine. I simply forgot to bask earlier. I’ll survive until the movie’s done, I assure you.” Janus hugged his blanket a little closer.

“Don’t care. C’mere.”

Janus warily eyed Virgil, who moved over on the couch to make room for Janus between himself and Patton. He carefully made his way over, sitting down between the two of them and doing his best not to touch either of them too much. His efforts were immediately negated, as Patton cuddled up next to him as soon as he sat down.

He had to admit, it was very nice to be cuddling someone again. Especially Patton, who ran the warmest out of all of them.

Virgil also leaned into him, resting his head on Janus’ shoulder and turning his attention back to the movie. Janus slowly felt himself warming up as he grew more comfortable in the cuddle pile. Roman leaned over and took one of his hands, rubbing it with his thumb.

Janus felt like he was about to melt. Not literally, of course. He was quite comfortable in his position. No, he was going to melt as in there were so many warm, fuzzy feelings welled up inside him that he was sure they would start oozing out of him if he weren’t careful.

Virgil’s hands slipped around Janus’ waist, pulling him somehow even closer. Roman sighed happily as Virgil began softly purring, his eyes closed. The movie was nearly forgotten by all except Logan, who was completely fixated on it, muttering to himself quietly.

“What’re you thinking, Specs?”

Logan blinked, turning to Roman as he processed the question.

“My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt the movie.”

“Mm, nope. No apologizing. What’s up?” Virgil blinked open an eye, glancing at Logan.

“I was merely wondering the logistics of the microbots in this movie. We have already achieved a high level of synchronization with drones, so creating a smaller version of said drones would not be incredibly difficult.

“The only problem I could see with them is the almost telepathic connection to them, though we have nearly created a program that can process and recreate images from the brain. So these bots are almost achievable right now.”

Roman whistled.

“Damn, wouldn’t that be cool? I mean there’s obviously the whole construction use, but imagine the special effects!” Roman grinned at Logan.

“I suppose that would be an adequate use for them. I imagine waves and particle effects would be much more easy to create with the bots.”

The two began bouncing ideas off of each other, debating the uses of microbots as Janus, Virgil and Patton watched on with fondness.

Virgil sighed happily. Janus fought the urge to kiss his forehead, and, wow, that’s back, that’s not good.

He must have looked sad, because Patton hugged him tighter and nuzzled his arm. Janus gave him a small, reassuring smile. Patton’s face turned stern, in a “we’re talking about this later” way. Janus wasn’t sure whether or not he should be worried.

Virgil’s breathing began to slow beside Janus, his face relaxing as he began softly purring again. Janus ran a hand through Virgil’s hair, laughing softly as he smiled in his sleep. Patton sighed happily, kissing Janus’ cheek before resting his head on Janus’ shoulder.

Roman caught Janus’ eye, and grinned.

“Aw, looks like you’ve hypnotized our dearest Emo and Pops.”

Janus smiled.

“Can’t say I’m upset.” He purred, continuing to play with Virgil’s hair.

Roman’s teasing smirk turned soft, and Logan wrapped his arms around Roman’s waist, sinking into him. Logan glanced up, and tiredly smiled up at Janus. Roman kissed Logan’s forehead, then reached for Janus’ hand and kissed it.

Janus felt a soft blush warming his face, and turned away slightly as Roman adjusted his hold on Janus’ hand, entwining their fingers.

“You wanna help me get them to bed?”

Logan frowned.

“I could’ve helped.”

Roman chuckled.

“I know, love, but you’re already half asleep yourself.”

“I am not. I’m completely awake.”

“Mhm, tell that to your eyelids.”

Logan huffed, then gently punched Roman’s shoulder and stood up.

“Asshat.”

Roman laughed.

“I’m serious. No kisses for you tonight.” Logan walked past Roman, over to Janus, and kissed his head.

“Babeee.” Roman reached out to Logan as he whined.

“Nope. Goodnight.” Logan smiled and went upstairs.

Janus chuckled as Roman pouted after him. Roman sighed.

“I’ll take Patton if you take Vee?”

Janus bit the inside of his cheek. If Virgil woke up, he’d probably be upset, but… he looked completely knocked out. And it would only take a minute, so…

“Sure.”

Roman stood, then lifted Patton off of Janus and into his arms.

“Night, Jan.”

“Night.”

Roman carried Patton upstairs. Janus sighed, then shifted Virgil off him gently so he could stand up. He picked up Virgil and began making his way to Virgil’s room. He was still surprised by how light Virgil was- Vee had always joked about it being because of his correlation with spiders, saying he didn’t have an endoskeleton. Well, he was pretty sure Virgil had been joking. Maybe he could ask Logan about it.

Janus arrived at Virgil’s door, which had luckily been left open, and slipped into the room, laying Virgil on his bed gently. He found Virgil’s make-up wipes and wiped off the eyeshadow that remained beneath his eyes, then stood to leave. Again, the urge to kiss Virgil’s forehead arose, and he indulged it this time, before turning to leave.

“Jan?”

Janus froze, and turned around to find Virgil staring up at him, his eyes alert and very awake. A chorus of ‘fuck’s ran through his head.

“Yeah?”

Virgil stayed silent for a moment, then spoke up, “Can you stay?”

Well, that wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. Maybe a “what the fuck,” or a “get out,” or perhaps even a “why.” But definitely not this.

Janus choked out a “yeah,” and walked back over to the bed. Virgil held the covers up for him, and he crawled under. Virgil cuddled up to his chest as Janus hesitantly laid his arm over Virgil’s waist.

“Why-“

“Shhhhh… in the morning, okay?” Virgil cut him off.

Janus swallowed nervously, but nodded. Virgil sighed and pulled Janus closer, his breathing steadying more with second. Eventually, soft snores came from his sleeping form. Janus rested his cheek against Virgil’s hair, and let out a breath.

He and Virgil hadn’t cuddled this much since… well before the Melding. It felt a little strange but… mostly it just felt safe. Like a warm cup of cocoa after a long day in the snow, or curling up in your favourite blanket after a hard day at work.

Janus let himself savour the moment, and silently prayed for whatever god was up there to let him fall asleep.

…

Well that’s a no.

Janus rolled his eyes. Of all nights, it had to be this one, huh?

Virgil twitched in his sleep, and Janus bit his lip. He knew Virgil was prone to nightmares, being Anxiety and all, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He wondered if he would still…?

Janus moved his hand up to softly pet Virgil’s hair, and he seemed to calm down. Janus laughed quietly as Virgil resumed his purring.

Janus eventually noticed the gloves that still covered his hands, and groaned. That’s why he couldn’t sleep. Awful. He removed them, careful not to disturb Virgil, and placed them behind him on the nightstand. He continued playing with Virgil’s hair, until his eyelids grew heavy and his hands stopped moving. As the safety of sleep washed over him, he couldn’t remember being this happy in a long time.

“Virg- oh my goodness. Oh my goodness, Roman, you have to see this!”

“What’s wrong, Pa- oh my god. That’s adorable.”

“I know, right?! Do you think they’d be upset if I took a picture?”

“They might. Virgil doesn’t like photos without his eyeshadow on.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Aww Logan woulda loved seeing this though!”

“Heh, Specs would’ve gone so soft seeing this.”

Janus’ eyes slowly blinked open, the soft sunlight coming from the window flooding his vision.

“Oh shit they’re awake-“

“Language!”

“Go go go abort mission!”

The door slammed shut as Janus turned around, giggles ringing out from behind it. Even in his morning bleariness, Janus couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Wha…?” Janus turned back around to see Virgil sitting up halfway, leaning on his elbow.

A knot twisted itself in Janus’ stomach, and his hands began shaking.

“Oh. Mornin.” Virgil mumbled, falling back onto the bed.

“Good morning.” Janus replied, sitting up.

He slipped his gloves back on, and began getting out of bed. Virgil reached over and grabbed his wrist before he was able to.

“Jan, what’s-“ He looked up at Janus, his eyes widening. “Fuck, you gotta get out of here.” Virgil suddenly sunk out, dragging Janus with him.

When he opened his eyes again, Janus was sitting on the couch in the commons. The scenario felt scarily familiar.

“Oh, I just love doing that immediately after waking up. It doesn’t feel weird at all.” Janus hissed.

“Dude, you had eyeshadow down to your nose. You’re welcome.” Virgil threw his hood up, then sank into the couch cushions.

Janus bit his lip.

“Thank you, I suppose.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Janus played with the hem of his gloves. They really should talk. Didn’t mean Janus had to initiate it. Even though he did. Because Virgil would be nervous about it, and they’d just continue skirting around everything.  

“We should talk.” The words felt alien in Janus’ mouth.

Virgil groaned.

“Do we have to? I, like, just woke up, man.”

“You asked to talk about it in the morning.”

“It was like 2AM dude, you can't hold me at that.”

“I absolutely can and will.”

Patton and Roman appeared at the top of the stairs, giggling to themselves. They glanced down and saw Janus and Virgil on the couch, and got quiet. Patton met Janus’ eye and gave him a reassuring smile, before gently pulling Roman back upstairs.

“Let’s...o...ake...gan.” Was all Janus could make out.

Virgil groaned.

“What, did you get my boyfriends in on this too?”

Janus scoffed.

“Like I would use your boyfriends against you.”

“Oh, you absolutely would. Though you’ve been starting to use yourself against me too.”

“Oh, Virgil, who knew you could be so forward?” Janus smirked as Virgil shoved him.

“Like you haven’t been flirting with my boyfriends for the past three months.”

Janus bit his lip.

“Is that alright?”

Virgil finally looked over to him, his eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah, of course.”

Janus frowned.

“You sound like that should be obvious.”

Virgil stared at him, then started laughing. Janus fought down a smile.

“What?”

“Dude, seriously? Oh my god, I don’t know how to tell you this, but if I’m inviting you to cuddle with me and my boyfriends, I’m obviously fine with you flirting with us.” Virgil grinned.

Janus lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh? Us?”

Virgil turned red, and pulled on his hoodie strings a little.

“Nope. I’ll talk about whatever you want, but I am not dealing with that this early.” Virgil mumbled.

“Fine. But you do want to talk?”

Virgil bit his lip, and pulled his hoodie sleeves up.

“I mean, whatever. I don’t really care. But Patton wants me to talk to you and you said you wanted to talk so… whatever. You have to go first though.”

Janus nodded, and brought his legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch.

“Okay. We both know that we both suck at this, so laugh if you please, but know that I then will not hesitate to do the same.” Janus figured that was a good way to start.

It had gotten a small laugh out of Virgil, so it should be fine.

“I… acknowledge that the way I behaved, both prior to the Melding and for a short while after was unacceptable. I know I hurt you a lot, especially when we were young, and I apologize for that.” He paused for a moment.

This all felt so staged. Like he’d stolen it from some story and recited it. Saying it out loud made him feel the same way Patton felt when lying. Like a hurricane had replaced his stomach and the rest of his organs had to deal with the consequences.

“I know I may not be able to remedy it, but I would like to try. I’m working on being more honest and vulnerable, and I would really appreciate it if I had you helping me out with it.” Everything he’d ever known about speaking to people had apparently left his brain.

He wasn’t making eye contact, why the fuck wasn’t he making eye contact? His words were blunt and inelegant.

He finally brought himself to look up at Virgil again.

“Yeah, I mean… thanks, I guess. And uh… I’m… sorry, for kinda being a dick to you after you introduced yourself to Thomas. I know how weird and scary that is so… yeah.”

Janus huffed.

“It was well within your rights to, I wasn’t exactly the nicest either.” His hands gestured as he spoke.

“Yeah, but I did kinda egg the others on too.”

“Ehh, we’re all petty bitches sometimes. I get it.” That startled a sharp laugh out of Virgil, and Janus smiled.

“I’m glad to finally have another petty bitch around to help me out when Roman steals my eyeshadow.”

“Who says I won’t be helping him steal your eyeshadow? Honestly, sounds like fun.” Janus grinned as Virgil punched his arm.

“Asshat.”

“Your asshat.”

Virgil’s smile turned a little softer.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

He stood, then reached to help Janus up.

“Come help me give my boyfriend shit for eavesdropping.” Virgil grinned.

Janus heard a quiet “fUCK-“ come from the top of the staircase, followed by pounding footsteps. He smirked, grabbing Virgil’s arm.

“Gladly.”

They hadn’t spoken about everything, they hadn’t spoken much at all, but they didn’t need to, not right now. It was a healing process. The fact that there was now a reaching branch, a bridge built over their last one, was enough for now. They’d work through it bit by bit, and eventually they’d get there. Until then, Janus was happy to accept this new, but familiar friendship. And as he listened to Virgil and Roman teasing each other, he knew he’d be more than happy with it.

This had to be a dream, of some sorts. This couldn’t be real. Maybe Remus was playing a trick on him, or maybe he’d tricked himself, or something. But he definitely wasn’t in reality.

In the morning, after breakfast, Roman had asked him to come into the Imagination with him for a little while. There had been this beautiful little green clearing among the fall-covered trees, and when he stepped into it, it was as warm as a spring day. They’d sat on one of the rocks, and talked about Thomas’ most recent musical obsession. Roman had, at some point, turned on the soundtrack and convinced Janus to perform some of the duets with him.

Then Patton had requested his help with decorations for their upcoming Christmas celebration (upcoming, as in, in about a month), and Janus had helped with that for a while. Patton put on his favourite Christmas music, and they’d started doing some weird kind of swing dance in the empty family room. Patton had asked for his assistance in hanging mistletoe over the couch, and given him a peck on the cheek before dancing away.

Logan had popped in, and asked if Janus could help him with a schedule. They’d gone to Logan’s room, and Logan had run the schedule by Janus, thanking him when he pointed out any errors or impractical time usage. They’d ended up talking about the new year, how illogical and silly their traditions were. Logan had grumbled something about New Year’s resolutions, then begrudgingly showed Janus a memory of Thomas, him, Roman, Virgil, and Patton singing a silly song regarding them. Janus helped him plan some reasonable, yet still exciting resolutions in advance.

Virgil had knocked on the door, and asked to borrow him. He’d been planning presents for the other sides but wasn’t sure about them yet. Janus helped him sift through ideas, and gave him the little push needed to actually make the gifts. Virgil sat on his lap as he started making the most elaborate one (Roman’s), and Janus hooked his arms around Virgil’s torso so he could see to help Virgil with the details.

So, all in all, a wonderful day.

Now, Janus sat on the family room floor, with Virgil’s head in his lap and Roman leaning against his shoulder, with the coffee table moved up against the wall. Patton was sitting on the couch behind him, putting little braids in his hair, and Logan was curled up against Patton. Something was on the TV, but Janus wasn’t really paying attention. He, honestly, couldn’t remember being this happy his entire life.

And then Patton asked if it was okay if they talked about something.

Janus felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Surely, they weren’t upset with him, right? He couldn’t think of anything he could have done, at least recently, to upset them. Did they just… not want him around anymore? He’d been expecting it, at first, but he’d thought things had been going pretty well…

“What about?”

Patton gently nudged Logan, and the two moved to sit on the floor in front of Janus.

“So, Jan, we all know that the temperature has really fallen recently, and Christmas is coming up soon too…” Patton seemed to be fighting down a smile, like he’d heard the best joke and wanted to tell it to them.

Okay, so not anything to do with right now, but with Christmas. Maybe they needed his help with something? That seemed reasonable.

Virgil sat up, then walked over to the coffee table, grabbing a wrapped box from the shelf on the underside.

“We, uh, made a gift for you, but, we figured you’d like it before it got too cold out.” He sat down next to Janus, cross-legged, and passed him the gift.

Janus frowned, but began unwrapping it. Patton looked like he was about to burst with joy, and even Logan seemed cautiously excited.

He unwrapped it, setting the wrapping paper to the side, and found… A blanket?

“It’s a heated blanket,” Logan spoke up, “You can charge its battery, and it has a built-in heating pad. We figured you’d find it useful.”

Janus blinked, staring at the box.

“It also has lavender pouches in it, because Vee said you sometimes have trouble sleeping, and I figured it might help.” Roman looked up from his shoulder, smiling.

“So… do you like it?” Patton asked.

Janus remained quiet for another moment, as Patton’s grin slowly fell.

“I… this is… amazing.” Janus muttered.

“Are you sure? If you don’t like it, we can always get you something else, and-“

“Patton,” Janus interrupted, “I love it. Seriously. Thank you all, so much.”

Patton’s grin returned, and Virgil let out a sigh of relief from beside him.

“Hey, hey Jam, now, if you wanna, it’ll be easier for you to come into the Imagination!” Roman grinned, and Janus let out a happy laugh.

“Of course, I’d love to.” He placed a soft kiss on Roman’s forehead.

“In that case, would you like to join us there tonight? We were planning on star gazing, and we would enjoy your company.” Logan seemed somewhat flustered, like he’d rehearsed this.

“I do believe my schedule’s open tonight.” Janus smiled.

Patton squealed, and moved to hug Janus. Janus held him tightly, and waited for him to let go first. This all felt so amazingly weird. They’d planned out and worried about getting him a gift he’d like and use, and had absolutely nailed it.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must get to work on making sure the constellations will line up right.” Roman winked, and stood up, “Logan, I’m gonna steal your star charts, yeah?” Roman said, already halfway up the stairs.

“Oh, no you will not, I have them perfectly organized and you will not be messing them up!” Logan chased Roman upstairs, and Janus could hear Roman cackling evilly as he did.

Virgil smirked, and leaned back against Janus.

“Open the box, I think you’ll like it even more.” He muttered.

Janus gave him a quizzical look, but opened the box, and- wow.

It was a red, velvety blanket with yellow flowers embroidered around the edge. It had clearly been stitched together by Virgil, as his signature stitching style was along the edges. When he ran his hand along it, Janus could feel the heating pad in the middle, as well as the lavender pouches. It was like a little part of all of them had been sewn into the very cloth of the blanket.  Janus felt his eyes tear up.

“Thank you guys, so much.” He choked out.

Patton kissed his cheek, and cuddled him close.

“Merry early Christmas, Janus!”

Then, Janus did something that was probably really stupid, and was probably going to get him yelled at by at least three people.

He let his hand find Patton’s chin, and tilted his head up to look at Janus.

“I really want to kiss you right now, but I won’t if you don’t want to.” He mumbled.

He heard Virgil gasp softly. Patton blinked up at him for a moment, silent, and Janus worried that he’d horribly miscalculated, before Patton grabbed the collar of Janus’ shirt and kissed him sweetly. When he pulled back, Patton had a huge grin on his face.

Patton began giggling to himself.

“What?” Janus asked breathlessly.

“Roman and Logan are gonna be so pissed I kissed you first!”

Virgil gasped.

“Language! Jeez, Pat, one kiss with a snake and you’re swearing all over the place.” Virgil teased.

Janus glanced between the two nervously.

“I feel like I’ve missed something.”

Virgil cackled.

“Well, you see, Patton, Roman, and Logan have all been trying to kiss you before the other two could. A sort of bet, if you will.”

Janus stared at him blankly for a moment, then began snickering.

“Oh, please tell me who you bet for, Virgil.”

“Are you kidding me? Obviously Patton. If you hadn’t initiated it, his puppy eyes woulda caught you off guard eventually.”

“Fair enough,” Janus grinned, “What was bet?”

“Well, Patton gets to do Logan’s nails, which I’m like 80% certain he’ll love, because of the clicking, and I get to dress Roman for a day.”

“Oh, I cannot wait to see that.” Janus purred.

“Despite what he says, Ro loves hoodies, so I’m sure it won’t bother him too much.” Patton shrugged, leaning against Janus again.

“It was more of a joke than anything.”

Janus nodded. Virgil wasn’t completely merciless- The most he’d make Roman do is wear some really emo makeup.

The three sat there peacefully for a little while, Virgil scrolling through his phone as Patton and Janus talked about the winter garden they’d been planning to put somewhere in the Imagination.

“Hey, Pat, what’re we doing for dinner?” Virgil asked.

Patton gasped.

“Oh! Lo sent me this recipe a few days ago for us to make our own pizzas instead of ordering them! I’ve really wanted to try it out!” Patton said as he scrolled through his phone.

He showed his phone to Janus, then Virgil.

“Sounds good, want some help with it?” Virgil glanced across Janus to Patton.

“Sure, kiddo! C’mon!” The two got up, and Patton offered Janus a hand up.

“You wanna help too?”

“Of course.” Janus smiled, accepting the hand up.

Roman led the way as they trampled through the undergrowth of the Imagination. Janus was already bundled up in his new blanket, which- as he’d predicted- was the perfect temperature. It seemed to have some sort of spell on it that kept it to whatever temperature he wanted at any given moment.

Eventually, the forest broke, and they found themselves standing in a field covered in little white flowers, with patches of asters sprinkled about. The moon shone brightly above them, covering the field in a soft glow as they found the large blanket Roman had laid out for them. They sat down, Patton running his fingers over the flowers that poked out over the edge of the blanket.

Logan sat down in Janus’ lap, taking Janus’ hands and fiddling with them.

“Roman, this is… beautiful. The flowers are even season-accurate.” Logan mumbled.

“Well, of course they are! I know my flowers very well, dearest nerd.” Roman stuck out his tongue at Logan.

“Oh Roman, when will you learn not to lie around me? You stole Logan’s book about North American flowers a week ago.” Janus purred.

Roman let out an offended gasp.

“Betrayed! Betrayed by my beloved! How will I go on?” He collapsed into Patton’s lap, sending Patton into a fit of giggles.

“Roman, for the last time, you need only ask to borrow my books, it’s not like I’m going to say no.” Logan softly berated him.

“Mmm… no thanks. It’s much more fun to steal them while Jan distracts you.”

Janus levelled Roman with a betrayed look as Logan gently slapped him in the chest.

“Two can play at that game, Snakespeare.” Roman winked.

“You two will be the death of me.” Logan mumbled amusedly.

Virgil grinned, falling onto his back.

“Lo, did you look at the stars yet?”

Logan looked up, and it was if a switch had been flipped. His eyes lit up, and his mouth laid slightly agape as his eyes flitted from constellation to constellation.

Janus watched with adoration as Logan stared at the sky. He could see now why Roman was so excited about this. Patton sighed happily, playing with Roman’s hair.

“Hey, Lo, what planet is that?”

“Oh, that would be Mercury. It is lucky we were delayed by several hours due to Roman passing out on the couch at midnight, or else we may not have seen it.”

“Wow, Logan, shady much?”

“Of course not. Anyways,” As Logan began info-dumping about Mercury, Janus paid as much attention as his sleep-deprived brain would let him.

They asked Logan questions about constellations, and stars, and he rattled off the answers excitedly while gesturing with his hands. Eventually, they ended up in a cuddle pile, with Logan in the middle, being cuddled by Janus on one side and Roman on the other. Virgil reached over Roman and Logan to hold Janus’ hand, and Patton was cuddling him from behind. It was, basically, perfect.

Logan had started interrupting his own sentences with yawns, and his eyes started drooping.

“M’kay, I think it’s about time we turned in.” Patton mumbled, sitting up.

Virgil yawned.

“What gave that away, the sun?”

Janus frowned, and looked up and, oh. Yep. The sun was rising. He got up, stretching, then helped Logan up. Both Logan and Patton were practically walking in their sleep. The only one who seemed energetic was Roman, who sighed disappointedly.

“I suppose we should get going.” He said.

He snapped, and the blanket they had been laying on folded itself into a square. He picked it up, and carried it in his arm as he took Virgil’s hand and began leading them back through the forest. Logan hung off of Janus’ arm, and Patton walked beside Janus sleepily, holding his hand loosely.

When they arrived home, Janus was practically carrying Logan. Patton had sleepily kissed everyone goodnight, including Janus, which had thrown Roman for a loop, then drifted off to his room. Janus dropped Logan off at his room, confident that he could get himself to bed, and went back into the family room to sit with Roman and Virgil.

Roman sat on the smaller section of the couch, and Virgil sat in the corner, with his legs stretched out to rest on Roman’s lap. Roman glanced up, and patted the spot beside him. Janus sat down next to him and leaned against him.

“So… you kissed Patton before me? That’s illegal.” Roman grinned.

“Oh, shush.” Janus smirked, and gently tilted Roman’s head, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Roman held his face gently, like he was scared Janus might crack if he was too rough. They pulled back, and Roman rested his forehead against Janus’ and dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“Ew, get a room.” Virgil joked, poking Roman with his foot.

Roman just continued laughing. Janus tried to hold in his own laugh, but failed miserably.

“I have been desperately looking forward to this for literal months, oh my god, I’m so happy.” Roman grinned, and really, how was Janus expected to not kiss him again?

“I could get used to this.” Roman said breathlessly.

“Yeah?” Janus whispered.

“Definitely.”

Virgil snickered.

“Boo, get off the stage!”

Roman laughed, and launched himself at Virgil, covering his face in kisses.

“Stawwwppp, I’m tryna scroll through tumblr.”

Roman peppered more kisses on Virgil’s cheek.

“Nope. You are now forever trapped in Kisses Jail for your crimes.”

“What crimes?”

“Being a hypocrite.” Janus smirked.

“Wha- no, never have I ever gone all PDA-ish.” Virgil fought back a smile as he tried to push Roman off of him.

“Oh, please do pretend like you’ve never started making out with Patton in the kitchen, or Roman in the hallways, or Logan in the family room-“

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Virgil finally surrendered himself to Roman, who pressed a few victory kisses to Virgil’s face, then cuddled him.

Virgil gestured for Janus to sit with them, and Janus moved to rest his head on Virgil’s shoulder.

“So… I know we’ve never really had an actual real conversation about this, and we should probably talk about it with Lo and Pat too, but…” Roman paused, “I would really, really like to take you on a date. And later become your boyfriend, if you so wished.”

Janus stared at him for a probably worrying amount of time, but…

“Yes. Please. I’d- I would love that.” Janus stuttered out.

Roman reached across Virgil and took Janus’ hand, kissing it before adjusting his grip to hold in. Virgil leaned his cheek against Janus’ head, and smiled.

“And me. And almost definitely Patton and Logan. If you’ll have us.”

“Of course.” Janus grinned.

And if, in the morning, Patton found them cuddling on the couch and swooned, and if Janus spent the majority of his days cuddling his new boyfriends, and if they would sometimes use his need for heat to coerce him into affection, and if Janus occasionally spent the night sleeping in a cuddle pile on the couch, could you blame any of them?

After all, it is a well-known fact that Janus is cold-blooded.

———————————————————————————————————

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! :)

Taglist:

@girl-with-many-fandoms ~ @arodynamic-enby ~ @imma-potatoo ~ @canvas-the-florist

[alwayschoosechocolate]

Starry Night (kth)

Bad days usually involved hours buried under your weighted blanket but this time your boyfriend makes sure you don’t miss the wonder that is the clear night sky during a power outage. 

Pairings: Taehyung x reader

Genrer: Fluff, mental health

Word count: 2.2k

Just a little something to cheer up my dear @spookidema​  💕

My masterlist can be found here

You’d felt it the second you woke up. The heaviness on your chest, the emptiness in your heart and the incapability to deliver a sincere smile to your long-term partner. And Taehyung truly did his best, pulling out all the stops; smiling pancakes, fresh-pressed juice, forehead-kisses and constant contact. He even accompanied you in the shower so he could provide as much skinship as possible before he had to leave for work, and though it did manage to pull you slightly out of the clouds in your head, you knew better than to be optimistic.

On days like this your only source of energy came from your boyfriend and today he had to leave for a daylong photo-shoot. Opting out of your classes for the day, you sent him off with a distracted kiss and the promise of calling him if it got too bad. Feeling your energy drain as you gave him one last wave on his way to the elevator, you softly closed the front door, leaning your head against it’s dry and cold wood for a few moments, gathering strength to drag your body back to the bedroom, more than ready for just hiding yourself under your weighted blanket and waiting for Tae to come home in the timeless darkness the blanket provided you.

Pulling your head off the door with an exhausted sigh, you shuffled back to the bedroom, shutting the door and turning off the lights before tunneling under your blanket, sighing in relief when the heaviness pressed down around you, perfectly encasing you against the softness of the mattress. Reaching for his pillow, you pulled it under the blanket to you, hugging it to your chest and breathing in his scent. It was a poor compensation for the man, but it was all you had for the moment.

Dozing in and out of sleep, you eventually grew hungry. Rolling over to the edge of the bed, you pulled out the “snack-attack-drawer” as Tae had named it after he installed it under the bed for you, exactly for situations like this. Roaming around in blindness as your head was still buried against his pillow, you snatched whatever was in your reach before pulling your hand back to you in the safety of your blanket, smiling slightly when you recognized your favorite cereal bar along with a snickers bar.

Tae only ever stocked the drawer with your favorite snacks, though he always denied it when you asked, but you were pretty sure that he didn’t particularly enjoy the cranberry yogurt bars you were currently chewing on.

As you devoured your snacks, your phone screen flashed with a message from the man in question.

Sorry, it got so late. I’m on my way home now. Love you.

Absentmindedly noticing how late it had gotten, you quickly answered him with a heart before pushing the candy bar wrappers out from the blanket and burying yourself back against his side of the bed, impatiently waiting to hear him step through the door.

Dozing off again, you didn’t even hear him enter the apartment or when he called out for you in his deep voice.

“Honey?”

Carefully opening the bedroom door, he smiled tenderly at the sight of your curled up on his side of the bed and the empty wrappers abandoned on your own side.

Putting down the package in his arms on the chair in the corner, he shrugged off his jacket and padded to your side of the bed, swiftly gathering the wrappers and throwing them in the trash can next to the bed, before sitting down and resting a hand on the lump he knew to be you.

“Honey,” he repeated, reaching for the edge of the blanket to pull it down enough for him to catch sight of your heated cheeks and confused eyes. Smiling affectionately, he pushed away the stray hairs as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your lips which you gladly accepted with a low hum, letting out a whine when he pulled away too soon for your liking,  “Hold on, honey,” he chuckled at your wronged expression. “I brought you something. Give me a second.”

Pressing a delicate kiss to your temple, he walked back to the package he’d abandoned on the chair, flashing you a cheeky smile before covering the box with his broad back as he set to work on unpacking it.

Following his movements in curiosity, you really just wanted him back in bed and preferable with his arms securely around you, but you had no energy to argue with him in this moment and he seemed so genuinely excited to show you what he’d gotten.

“Tada!”, he exclaimed as he finally turned back to you, unfolding a large blanket in front of him. “I got us a weighted blanket for two so we can both fit under it,” he informed you in a proud voice and the sincerest boxy smile you’d ever seen on his lips, causing you to tear up at the mere thoughtfulness behind it.

“Babe,” you choked out unable to control your emotions in your current state, quickly reaching up to wipe away the tears already falling. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Honey, please don’t cry,” he hummed in concern as he strode to the bed, unfolding the blanket over the bed and you on it in one swift motion, before ducking under it to pull you in his embrace, letting your tears fall on his chest instead of his pillow. “You know I really only bought it for me,” he reassured you with a shy chuckle. “This way I can be closer to you on the bad days instead of cuddling both you and the blanket. Speaking of which,” he commented, tugging at the material in question, sending you a stern look when you resisted. “Honey, if you want me closer, the blanket’s got to go. That’s why I got the bigger one.”

Looking up at him with worried eyes, you finally give a small nod in permission which he rewarded with a deep loving kiss to distract you while he freed you from the smaller weighted blanket and pushed it out from under the hollow the bigger blanket secured the two of you in.

“Look, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”, he asked you softly, chuckling when you immediately shuffled as close to him as possible and snuck on your hand under his t-shirt to rest it against the warm skin of his stomach.

Sighing in comfort at the combined effect of the blanket and your boyfriend’s warm body, you settled against his chest and when the sound of a cartoon started playing from Tae’s phone, it felt like you melted against him as the comfort of the routine settled in your bones.

Being lulled to sleep by his caressing hands on your skin and the lull of the cartoon, you were soon fast asleep only awakened some hours later, when you felt Tae retracting himself from under the blanket and leaving the bed.

Groaning slightly at the emptiness he left behind, you peeped out over the blanket to see his silhouette against the door leading to the balcony.

“Must be a power outage,” you heard him mumble more to himself than to anyone else, before he turned towards you, sending your questioning eyes a reassuring smile as he walked back to the bed and grabbed your pillows and the extra blanket, arranging all of them against the French doors leading out to your balcony, before he returned to you.

“The stars are so clear tonight,” he whispered gently against the shell of your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your earlobe in the process, as he gently coaxed you out of bed and led you to the improvised seats on the floor as the blanket dragged the floor behind you.

Position himself against the wall in the small alcove leading to the doors, he offered you a hand and a miniature version of the boxy smile you adored so much, causing you to send him a small smile in return.

Accepting his hand, he led you to sit down between his legs with your back to his front. Struggling with the weighted blanket for a few moments, he finally managed to drape it over your body, once again encasing you in the comforting pressure on your front, while his warm chest and strong arms supported you from the back.

Leaning back against his chest with a defeated sigh, you rolled your head to the side and threw a glance out the window, letting out a barely audible gasp at the night sky. The stars seemed to shine in thousand-fold tonight, twinkling and shining in contrast the darkness surrounding them.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”, Tae’s deep voice added in agreement to your gasp.

For a long time none of you spoke as you were both too preoccupied with the night sky unveiled by the power outage and now presented to you in all its glory. Tae’s warm arms held you close to his chest and his cheek rested on the top of your head as he stared out at the sky in deep thought.

“What are you thinking?”, you inquired in a whisper, not even needing to see his face to know he wanted to share whatever thoughts was going through his head with you.

“Just thinking about Van Gogh’s Starry Night,” he confessed with a soft laugh tightening his arms around you in an unvoiced appreciation of how well you understood him. “When I first saw it, I was so confused,” he chuckled at his younger self, making the corner of your lips quirk up in an amused smile at the thought of little Taehyung looking at a picture of the painting with wide curious eyes. “It didn’t look at all like the stars I used to see over my family’s fields when I snuck out at night as a kid. They were so much bigger than the stars I knew. But it makes sense doesn’t it? Van Gogh used to compare the stars to the dots that marks cities on a map, saying that in death we would be able to travel to the stars, just as we are able to take a train to the cities we find on a map. He didn’t paint them as distant lights, but as possible destinations and he gave them the power and space fitting for that. Each star shines so bright and independently, illuminating the village alongside moon,” Taehyung spoke deep in thought as he craned his neck to take in as much as the sky as possible, drawing a deep sigh as he pulled you closer in his embrace.

Despite already knowing the information he shared with you from previous talks about Van Gogh, there was something about his deep timbre voice and the dreams present in his words as he drew parallels between aspects of life you’d never thought twice about if it hadn’t been for him, that made you listen to him in silence, enjoying the vibrations in his chest and the comfort of his voice.

“I don’t know if I agree with him on the death-thing though,” he continued, eyes wide in wonder and mouth agape as the stars reflected off his orbs. “Stars seem to hold a silent promise of future don’t you think? A promise of hope. They are shining beautifully and passionately tonight, but some nights they’re barely visible. Hidden behind clouds or simply too faint against the strong light from the moon. But we still wait patiently for them. And despite how long it may take, we have faith that they’ll return again as beautiful and passionately as last we saw them. Before GPS and compasses, we used to use them to guide us when we traveled. Navigating by the stars on long sea voyages where we had nothing else to lead us. Literally placing our lives in the stars.”

“You’re my star,” you spoke quietly, not trusting your own voice to raise it more but hoping he would understand all the thoughts going through your head that you were only able to spill with those words.

“You’re my moon,” he answered without missing a beat. “Casting light on my path and making sure I don’t stumble on my way. Every night I chase you and every morning I cry as you leave my sight.”

“But I always come back,” you assured him, voice stronger and a hint of defiance to your words as you tightened your hold over his arms.

“You always do,” he grinned against your neck, pressing a delicate kiss to the warm skin at the nape of your neck before burying his head in your hair, breathing out a sigh of relief. “You always come back.”

[chipper9906]

Bound To You - Chapter 8: Wish Upon A Star

< - - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 12,570

Overall Word Count: 63,774

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (8/?)

Chapter Preview:

“Hello, Dean.”

“Don’t you dare,” Dean bites out. He was still refusing to look at Cas right now. Mostly because there’s a good chance he’d punch him if he did. “You don’t get to do that like we’re all buddy-buddy right now. Not when you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Castiel stayed silent next to him.

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Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

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“Dean!”

Dean’s eye’s snapped open, a frantic and uncontrollable response to the sound of his brother yelling his name, expecting for there to be trouble. His body jerks up – or at least tries to – nothing more than a flailing of his arms and a jerk of his shoulders.

“Son of a-,” Dean grunts, using his arms to push himself back up against the headboard. His head snaps towards his brother’s yells, coming eye to eye with a particularly worried-looking Sam at his bedside, and an equally concerned looking Eileen next to him.

“What?” Dean snaps, not appreciating the rude awakening.

“What? What do you mean ‘what?’ Dean, it’s-,” Sam roughly shoves his sleeve up, double-checking the time on his watch. “-Four ‘o clock in the afternoon, and you’re, what, taking a nap?! We were texting and calling you on the way home and you didn’t pick up! We get back and find books thrown all over the table with you nowhere in sight, not replying to us when we’re yelling for you! Jesus Dean, I thought something had happened.”

“I’m fine,” Dean brushed his brother’s overprotective worry off, running a hand down his groggy face. “Research was kicking my ass is all. Needed some extra sleep.”

“So much so that you sleep through all my calls and texts, and then takes us yelling your name around ten times for you to wake up?” Sam asks, still with that hint of worry in his eyes.

“Dean… is there something you’re not telling us?” Eileen probes, leaning past Sam to look to Dean.

“What’dya mean? It’s not like I could have snuck out and done something. Not without falling down the stairs a million times and having to roll around in this damn thing everywhere around town.”

“No, I meant more…” Eileen trailed off, looking back to the Sam next to her, thinking over her words. “Are you in pain?”

Sam and Eileen seemed to have expected the confused look he gave in return, looking back to one another in that ‘we’re somehow reading each other’s minds’ look that’s really starting to get on Dean’s nerves.

“We just… We noticed you’ve been sleeping more than usual,” Sam began timidly, knowing this is going to be a touchy subject with Dean. “It’s, well… it’s not like you. And I usually wouldn’t say anything about it, but… what with your injury and all…”

“Sammy, I’m fine,” Dean insisted. The fact that he couldn’t just walk away from this conversation was a real pain in the ass.

Sam didn’t look like he believed him. “It’s just that… some of the pamphlets the doctor gave me mentioned about how excessive fatigue can be a sign of deterioration of health-,”

“Sam, are you forgetting that there’s an angel residing in my body right now?” Dean interrupted Sam. “Do you really think Cas would just leave me to die?”

“Of course I don’t,” Sam almost looked offended that Dean could ever think such a thing. “But I wasn’t just talking about physical health, you know.”

“Sam…”

“Look Dean, I know you don’t like talking about this kind of stuff, but with the way things are now… You can’t expect me not to get worried.” Sam said.

“You’ve had to go through something awful, Dean,” Eileen piped up. “And this isn’t us saying you’re not strong enough to handle it, okay? It’s not. But things like this can take a toll on your mental health, even when you don’t realize it.”

“Not to mention there’s going to be a strain on your mind with Cas possessing you,” Sam added. “We don’t know what the long-term effects are going to be – given the fact that it’s not your typical angel possession.”

Dean frowned up at his little brother. “How is it not?”

“Well… usually, angels and their vessels don’t… switch possession as much as you guys do. And…And…”

“And what?”

“We’re just worried, is all,” Eileen said gently, placing what Dean is sure would be a comforting hand on his lower leg – if he could feel it, that is. “And we know we’re being over-bearing right now, and you want nothing more than for us to get lost-,”

“What? No! That’s not – I mean I appreciate you guys worrying over me, it’s just -,”

“If you say you’re fine? I believe you,” Sam told him. “I do, okay? But that’s not going to stop me from worrying over you.”

“I know, Sammy,” Dean said. He understood; he’d be doing the exact same thing if their roles were reversed. “But I’m not going to do something drastic, okay? That’s not… that’s not me anymore. It’s…”

Dean sighed, not knowing the right way to explain this to Sam. Or more, he knew exactly the way to explain it, but… it was almost too personal to share.

‘Cas? You got your ears on?’

‘Always, Dean.’

‘Okay, well, uh… Do you mind if I tell Sam about… about when you…’

‘…When I died?’

‘Yeah, that… I don’t really want to talk about it, since… I don’t know, it felt like those words were for me only, but… I think it’s the only thing that’ll get these two love birds off my ass for at least five seconds.’

‘Oh, um… are you going to talk about everything I said?’

‘Uh… no, just… the bit before… you know…’

The bit before Cas said something he still can’t think about.

‘Oh… okay, I… yes. It's fine.’

It sure as hell didn’t sound “fine.” ‘You sure?’

‘I said it’s fine.’

Whoa, okay… The sudden hostility from Cas nearly had Dean flinching. He could feel the way Cas’s mood had shifted, back to that electric buzz he had felt back in the hospital when he had pissed Cas off. Except, this time, it was… muted. Even though Cas was stuck in his head, he had found a way to hide himself somewhere so deep inside that Dean could barely feel his presence within him; quite literally storming off into another ‘room’.

And he had no idea what he’d done to warrant such a reaction.

Eileen’s whisper to Sam is what brought Dean back to the present. “Was that the end of the conversation, or…”

“It’s about the night Cas died.”

That got their attention. Their shared amused grins were immediately wiped off their face, focus now locked on Dean.

“Cas had gotten me into the dungeon, but Billie was on the other side of the door. I was so angry with myself because… I knew we were going to die. There was nowhere to go but out that door, and Billie was there waiting. And it was my fault. Not only had I gotten myself killed, but Cas too. And that pissed me off more than anything. I couldn’t blame that bitch Reaper for this one, or Lucifer, or Jack, or whatever. This was all on me.  And then… Cas told me about that damn deal. What he had done to save Jack.”

“Cas made a deal?” Sam asked, clearly shocked. “How did… Who did he even make the deal with?”

“The Empty,” Dean answered bitterly. “His life in exchange for Jack’s; to take Jack’s place in the Empty.’

“But… but Jack was in Heaven?” Sam said, perplexed.

“Empty didn’t agree with that. But it did agree to Cas’s deal, except… Empty didn’t take him then and there. Apparently… it would only take him when he let himself be happy. Cas said he had an idea, then he was telling me all about this deal and I had no idea why… but then, Cas, he…”

It was strange. Cas was alive, here with him. Quite literally. And yet, thinking back to that day… it was still so raw, so fresh, and so unbelievably, agonizingly painful to remember - let alone speak out loud.

“He said some stuff that made me realize that maybe… maybe I wasn’t the shitty person I always thought I was. That the way he saw me changed him. He cared… because of me. And I still didn’t believe it when he said it, until he died for me because…”

“Because?” Sam encouraged Dean gently.

“Because he loved me.”

There. He said it. Was it… was it the first time he had said it out loud? Hell, was it the first time he had thought about it, acknowledged it since that day? He could feel Cas stirring inside him, as taken aback at hearing Dean say it as Sam and Eileen looked to hear it.

“That’s when the Empty came,” Dean continued. His gaze had dropped down to his lap, unable to take Eileen and Sam’s stunned yet sympathetic looks. “Took Billie, then… it took Cas. And that was it.”

“Wow…” Sam breathed out the word in response. “He finally told you?”

Dean’s head snapped up at that, a deep frown etched into his face. “Wha – You knew?”

“We… had our suspicions,” Eileen answered.

“We, um… we kind of had a bet going, actually. Before… everything went wrong.” Sam said, already grimacing in preparation for Dean’s response.

“Excuse me? You had a bet? A bet for what?”

Sam and Eileen shared nervous looks.

“You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know,” Dean grumbled, reaching over to the left side of his bed for his wheelchair that sat nearby. “Point is Cas helped me to see there’s more to me than I thought; made me realize that I actually wanted to keep living. I’m not gonna throw that all away now.”

“Well… that’s great!” Sam exclaimed, fighting back the urge to go around the bed and help Dean as he struggles into his wheelchair. “Just wanted to make sure you know we’re here if you’re ever feeling… Dean – what’s that?”

Dean froze, looking up to see Sam’s eyes fixated on his arm. “Huh?”

Sam stormed around to the other side of the bed where Dean was, coming to a stop in front of him and pulling the sleeve of his t-shirt up to his shoulder. “Isn’t that…?”

Dean threw his brother's hand off his shoulder, pulling his sleeve even further up and twisting his arm as he lifts it. There, branded on the skin of his left shoulder… was Cas’s handprint. The scar, the one he had found the day Castiel brought him out of Hell. The one they used to discover Castiel’s name. The one that had, slowly after time, faded away.

It was back. It was faint, not as raised and raw looking as it was the first time it had appeared on his skin, but it was there.

“What the…” Dean mutters, brushing a hand over the scar as if it would just wipe away.

The second his fingers brush against the pink scar, a sensation like electricity shoots around his body. It even startles Cas, who gasps in his mind, the sensation yanking Cas from his hiding spot to the forefront of Dean’s mind.

‘Cas? What in the hell is this?’

‘I… I don’t understand. I remember… it was gone.’

‘Yeah. And now it’s back. You got any idea why?’

‘I… it… no, I don’t.’

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s happening?” Eileen asked, eying the giant scar on Dean’s shoulder with a mix of intrigue and horror.

“Dean had that scar a long time ago,” Sam answered, eyes flickering from the scar to Dean’s flabbergasted face. “When Cas pulled him out of Hell, he… kind of left a mark on Dean. It faded with time, but now…”

“It’s back? How is that even possible?”

“I have no idea…” Dean mumbled, coming back into the conversation. “And neither does Cas.”

“Right... so…” Sam punctuated with a sigh, gesturing to the open door of Dean’s bedroom. “Research?”

* * *

Miracle was more than happy to have the rest of her little family back together, periodically racing between their legs at the library table for some well-deserved pets (which, let’s be honest, was as great for them as it was for her).

“So, wait – you’re telling me that this guy was helping the spirit to kill people?” Dean asked.

“It’s where we got thrown off. Bodies were showing up around the same time, but some of them seemed to have knife wounds – not your usual weapon of choice for a vengeful spirit. Turns out that the guy’s wife made a lot of enemies. Enough to get a target painted on her back.” Sam answered.

“And then she decided to pick off her enemies even after death,” Eileen added. “Her husband was so desperate to help her pass on that he thought helping her finish her… task… would do that.”

Dean whistled in astonishment. “Damn… that’s kind of sad, actually. What did you do about the guy?”

“Passed the evidence onto the local police,” Sam said. “They took him in; no idea what they’ll do with him.”

“So, what about you?” Eileen asked Dean, crossing her arms and leaning against them atop the table. “Get anywhere with the research?”

“Oh yeah-,” Dean answered sarcastically. “-It’s all taken care of. I was actually joking before; Cas isn’t in my head anymore. He’s back in his body, just chilling in the kitchen.”

Sam gave Dean’s leg a swift kick under the table, quickly paling when he remembered Dean wouldn’t be able to feel that anymore. He was, however, able to see the movement underneath him, looking down to his leg swinging from the impact, and then up to his brother's horrified face. “Dude…”

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, looking everywhere but at his older brother. “Let’s just… pretend that didn’t happen.”

“Not in your dreams, Sammy,” Dean answered with a grin before grabbing at the Men of Letter’s file he had left on the table. “And to answer your previous question seriously; This is the closest we came to finding something angel related.”

Dean offered up the file to Eileen, who gladly took it from his hands. “Whoa, weird; this file is really thick.”

Dean shrugged. “I think it’s just old paper. Plus, seems like this is one of those experiments by Sinclair that he didn’t really want the other Men of Letter’s interfering in. Wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to keep it as much as a secret as he could – hence the weird paper.”

“Wait – Sinclair?” Sam asked, looking up to Dean as Eileen passed him the file. “The collector?”

“That’s the one. And you’ll never guess who helped him with this little experiment…”

Sam scanned briefly over the document in his hands, feeling himself deflate as his eyes brushed over a familiar name. “Henry Winchester…”

“Winchester? Is he…?”

“Seems dear old Grandpa was involved in some seriously messed up stuff during his brief stint as a Man of Letters,” Dean said. “There’s some footage if you wanna see it, but… both me and Cas would strongly advise you don’t.”

‘I would much rather you burn the reel all together if I’m being honest.’

“How bad is it?” Sam asks cautiously, wondering if he even wants to read the file.

“They managed to snag an angel for themselves. You remember back when Gadreel had possessed you, and you were trying to extract his left-over grace?”

Sam shivered at the memory. “Yeah… I remember that damn needle…”

“Did the same thing,” Dean continued. “But they left some of the angel its grace. They thought that they could kill the angel, but leave the vessel alive that way – so long as they fuck up the vessel a ton so that the angel heals him, but burns itself out.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t work…” Eileen said.

Dean sighed. “Not in the slightest. They blew the poor guy up. Both were… gone. Just like that.”

Sam’s eyes dropped down to the paper in his hands, the weight of it suddenly feeling much heavier than before. “Did, uh… Did Cas see?”

“Course he did. He’s in my head,” Dean answered. “And before you ask, no; Cas didn’t know the guy personally. Or, uh – the angel personally. Knew his name though: Atheed.”

Sam’s face twisted with a guilt that wasn’t even his to feel. “Was he a good angel, or…?”

‘He was an obedient angel; he did what he’s told, as most do. You can deduct what you want from that.’

“He was a guy doing his job who got caught by the wrong people. Bad or good… that was a messed-up thing to do to him.”

“Makes me wonder how much of that kind of ‘work’ the Men of Letter did…” Eileen says softly, gently sliding the file out of Sam’s hands. “I suppose a lot of the knowledge we have today came from similarly cruel experiments… as sickening as that is to think of.”

“Yeah… and we’ve gotta siphon through all of those files to find anything angel or vessel related,” Sam gestures behind him at the multiple cabinets lining the wall. “I’m not sure if I wanna find out how many more cruel experiments Grandpa had a part in…”

“That makes two of us…” Dean mumbled in agreement, fighting back a groan at the thought of even more countless hours of research.

“What about Cas?” Sam asks, leaning back against his chair. “Does he have any idea?”

‘You hear that, Cas? You got anything?’

‘Well, I… No, no I haven’t.’

Dean’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at the hesitancy in Castiel’s voice echoing around his head, the shift in his expression garnering interest from both Sam and Eileen.

“What is it?” Sam asks. “Cas got something?”

“Dunno…” Dean said slowly. “Kind of sounds to me like someone is hiding something.”

‘I’m not hiding anything. An idea came to mind, but I believe it is a dead end. More than a dead-end in fact, I believe it is likely to get us either into a debt we cannot repay – or repaying causes us more trouble than it’s worth – or is just going to get us all killed.’

‘Come on Cas – we both know those kinds of ideas are the ones that usually work when it comes to our problems. Hop up in the driver’s seat and tell everyone.’

Dean could hear Cas’s long-suffering sigh deep within his mind. None the less, he felt that uncomfortable squeeze of pressure as Cas pushed himself to the front, sliding away into his own mind as he passes over the controls.

Both Sam and Eileen straightened in their seats at the sight of Dean’s glowing blue eyes; something about angel possession always making them uncomfortable, even when they know the angel in question.

“I’m guessing you have an idea?” Sam asks once the sheen of grace slips away from Dean’s eyes. It was odd - how it was Dean’s eyes looking at him, but Sam could see nothing but Cas behind those eyes. The stare was completely and unequivocally Cas.

“I do, unfortunately,” Cas replies in a strained voice. “Do you remember Sergei?”

“Sergei?” Sam asks, face scrunched in thought before the memories flood back. “The Russian guy?”

“What?” Eileen splutters, already looking none too pleased with the idea. “You mean that guy who nearly got Sam killed so he could bargain with us?”

‘He did what?’

“That’s the one,” Castiel replied dejectedly. “I don’t like the idea much either, but…”

“He did stop me from dying,” Sam offers awkwardly, able to feel the amped-up tension radiating from Eileen.

“Yeah – after Cas threatened his niece!” Eileen argued.

‘You did what?’

‘Sergei is… one of those men who only responds to violence. Somehow, I gained his respect through my threat. Though, I still worry about the consequences of it…’

“Still, he’s a pretty powerful guy, isn’t he? I mean, he managed to hide Gabriel from everyone, right?” Sam adds.

“It was one of the reasons I approached him in the first place,” Castiel agrees. “He is… knowledgeable, to say the least. So much so that British Men of Letters would frequently go to him for help.”

‘Huh… well, if those poncy up their asses British asshats came to him for help, then he must be good at what he does.’

“Yeah, okay, so he’s good,” Eileen reluctantly agreed. “But at what cost? Last I remember, he nearly got Sam killed trying to get something from you guys-,”

“The Key to Death’s Door,” Cas fills in the blanks for her.

“Right. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like something that should be in the hands of someone with that much power and knowledge. Who knows what he might ask for this time?”

“We don’t know until we ask, right?” Sam attempts to douse the paranoia rising. “If he’s as good as advertised…”

Castiel sighs, hands instinctively reaching for his trench-coat pockets before remembering what body he was in. “He once told me his job was ‘to solve the unsolvable.’ At this point… our problem seems to fit that title.”

Sam cleared his throat, shuffling on his seat as his gaze switched between Eileen’s displeased expression to Dean’s – or he supposed Cas’s – uneasy face. “So, question is: Is the risk worth it?”

‘I don’t like it.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘That settles it then. Get Sammy to call the douche up.’

Occasionally, Castiel believed the Winchester brothers were able to read each other’s minds; especially when the two were in the midst of a particularly challenging hunt. This was a thought that came to mind once more as, shortly after Dean had voiced his opinion, Sam let out a small sigh as he dug into his jean’s pockets and pulled out his mobile phone with a grim face of resignation.

“Alright, Cas. I hope you can remember his number…”

* * *

The booming, heavy knocks on the bunker’s metal door resounded around the bunker, its presence immediately heightening the tension that hung in the air ever since Sam had hung up the phone. Quite frankly, Castiel was surprised Sergei even bothered to pick up the phone – especially considering the fact that Sam's number would have shown up as ‘unknown caller’.

Eileen was the first to jump to her feet, having shifted into a ball of nerves as they awaited Sergei’s arrival. Sam stood from his chair beside her, easing her nerves ever slightly with a comforting but knowing touch to her shoulder.

Not a word was passed between the three. Dean, having regained back control, could only wheel after Sam as he steadily approached the staircase, coming to a stop at the bottom as both he and Eileen watch Sam carefully climb up step by step.

Sam pulled his pistol out from his back pocket as he reached the door, cocking it and aiming it in preparation towards the doorway as he yanks the door open.

Sergei glances down at the gun pointed towards his chest in mock surprise, holding up his hands in fake surrender. “I’m afraid I won’t be much help to you with a bullet in my chest,” He points out, nodding his head towards the pistol in Sam’s hands. “Unless you only wanted to lure me here to end me – in which case, I commend you for your plan.”

Sam glowers at the Russian, but lowers his gun down none the less – though keeps a firm hand wrapped around the handle. “You’ll have to forgive me. Last we met, you nearly killed me for your own gain.”

“Yes. And last I met you, your angel had one of his dogs stalk my niece, ready to pull the trigger at any moment,” Sergei fired back, stepping past Sam and onto the stair’s balcony. “I’d say we both have a reason to be wary of one another, wouldn’t you? Alas, I am still here-,”

Sam cut off Sergei with a snort. “Don’t pretend you’re here out of the goodness of your heart.”

Sergei nodded his head in acceptance. “Fair enough. Now, where-,”

Sergei stopped mid-sentence, eyes landing on Dean sat at the bottom of the stairs. A rather obnoxious grin stretched across the Shaman’s face that unsettled Dean, glaring up at the large man as he descended the stairs towards him with a tense-looking Sam in tow.

“Dean Winchester!” Sergei bellowed halfway down the stairs; arms outstretched either side of him in greeting. “I do not believe we ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Pleasure ain’t exactly a word I’d use,” Dean grumbled in response, backing away from the stairs as the Russian got closer. “But I’m willing to play nice for the time being.”

“Ah, but that’s how the world works, no?” Sergei asks once he reaches the bottom of the staircase, blocking Sam from going any further -much to the younger brother’s annoyance. “We play nice - so long as the other has what we need.”

Sergei’s eyes drifted up from Dean, landing on Eileen’s fiery gaze locked on him. The confident grin on his face waivered by the slightest, but remained there. “Ah, but you I remember. Good hand strength.”

Eileen’s glare didn’t budge. “And you best remember that.”

Sergei exhaled sharply in amusement – along with a hint of admiration – glancing back at Sam over his shoulder. He stepped to the side, allowing Sam to take the last steps down and join his brother and Eileen.

 “Now, if we’re done with the threats…” Sergei announced with a clap of his hands. “How about we get down to the reason I’m here? Is it true, what I was told on the phone?”

“Yes,” Dean answered curtly, raising a hand to tap at the side of his head. “Cas is up here – with me.”

“Fascinating…” The Russian drawled out, tilting his head to the side as he took Dean in. “Angels are… not usually ones to give up control so freely…”

“Cas ain't like most angels,” Dean shot back. “And that’s why he’s the only one of ‘em that matters. But it can’t last forever-,”

“Oh, I know,” Sergei interrupted Dean, who had to bite on his tongue to stop himself from cutting into Sergei’s sentence, solely out of spite. “A little birdie told me about your trip to the Empty, Castiel… I was rather disheartened to hear this – considering you still owe me that favor. I can only imagine the sorry state your grace must be in… Do tell me; how did you manage to escape from its clutches? Again?”

“That would be because of me,” Dean answered for Cas.

“Hmmm…” Sergei hummed in interest. “I wonder; do you say that as a declaration of accomplishment, or as taking the blame?”

“Neither,” Dean got out between gritted teeth. “It was a… mutual agreement. I was… well, to put it bluntly, I was dying.”

“Naturally,” Sergei said dryly, glancing from Dean over to Sam and Eileen. “I heard a lot about you Winchesters from the British’s grievances… Your apparent aversion to death.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, it should have been it this time. Right before I was about to go, I… I sent out one last prayer to Cas.”

“Even though he was dead?” Sergei asked, clearly perplexed by this.

“Especially because he was dead…” Dean answered softly, his answer only serving to throw Sergei off even more. “Anyway, next thing I know, there’s a portal opening up in front of me. Cas stepped through; this big mess of… sludge that I didn’t even recognize as him at first.”

“Interesting… I suppose that explains why, well…” Sergei off handely gestured at Dean. “I assume Castiel is the only thing keeping you held together?”

“No. I’m healed – mostly. I wouldn’t die if he left, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

“Then… why hasn’t Castiel left for another vessel?”

“He can’t,” Sam answers, dragging Sergei’s attention over to him once more. “And that’s why we need your help.”

��Ah… now I understand why you were so insistent on recreating his vessel when we spoke over the phone…” Sergei proclaimed, nodding his head minutely along with his own realization. “It’s about his grace, isn’t it?”

The uncomfortable looks shared between Eileen and the two brothers was the answer Sergei was looking for.

“Oh yes, I know about Heaven’s little problem,” Sergei told them. “Last I heard, even the few angels that reside up there are struggling… but you Castiel… it has been a while since you’ve felt yourself at full power, isn’t it?”

There it was again. That faint electric buzz that shot out from his head, spreading around his body. He wondered if this was Cas’s grace acting out inside him, trying to gain possession as it acts on Cas’s emotions, either with or without Cas’s control.

Which reminds him…

“That’s not all,” Dean’s word brought Sergei’s full attention back to him, roughly yanking up his t-shirt sleeve to reveal the raw-looking scar that somehow seemed to have raised even more in the past few hours.

Sergei’s brows practically shot up to his hairline at the sight in front of him, instantly able to sense the grace that was settled within that one patch of damaged skin on Dean’s arm. The surprise shifted to an amused and downright delighted grin, leaning back with a belly laugh so out of nowhere that it nearly had Sam reaching for his pistol.

‘Dean, I don’t think this is a good idea-,’

“Oh-ho, Castiel – you sly dog!” Sergei got out once his bouts of laughter were over, though his tone still one full of amusement. “How did your superiors not kill you for such an indiscretion? They must have been furious! Especially Michael - he mustn’t have appreciated you leaving such a mark on his vessel!”

‘The hell is he talking about, Cas?’

‘I said this wasn’t a good idea, Dean…’

“W – Why would they have killed him?” Sam asked, still rather taken aback by Sergei’s sudden outburst of laughter. “Cas said the mark was left there from where he pulled Dean out of Hell. He was just doing his job, right?”

“That is… partly true,” Sergei said. “But this right here? This is a mark of ownership. Angels leave such a brand on humans they intend to claim, almost as an offering – a proposition if you will – to the human who’s mark they leave.”

“Wait, what?” Dean spluttered, his voice rising in volume without his control. “You telling me Cas claimed me?”

There went Eileen and Sam with those knowing looks again…

‘Cas, what the hell? You saw me in Hell and decided – what – that I was your property?’

‘No! It wasn’t… the claim wasn’t intentional… I… I got carried away, okay? You have to understand – ALL of my life, my billions upon billions of years of existence had led up to this moment. The ONE job I had, and I was so proud to be the one to bear it. The angel intended to raise the righteous man from perdition. After what felt like years of battling through swarms of demons and other Hell filth… there you were. And your soul was so bright, so… you were everything you were described to be, and more. You were MY charge. MY human to watch over. And in that moment I held you to my chest as I pulled you out, my arms wrapped around you… As I said, I got carried away. I hadn’t even realized I had left the brand on your soul until I rebuilt your body.’

“Is he… having a stroke?” Sergei broke the uncomfortable silence that had filled the room.

“No… That’s what he looks like when he’s talking to Cas in his head.” Sam said, shuffling awkwardly on the spot as he waited for the focus to come back into Dean’s eyes.

“Okay, so… Cas left this mark on me. We’ve established that.” Dean mumbled as he came back to reality, Cas’s confession leaving him with an oddly hollow yet warming feeling, the two juxtapositions fighting for dominance. “But why did it come back?”

“Come… back?” Sergei questioned.

“After a while, it kind of just… faded away,” Dean explained, experimentally probing at the scar. Just like last time, that same static electricity jolted out from the contact. “And now it’s returned, but we have no friggen clue why. It’s not like it started coming back as soon as Cas possessed me, it just seems to have all of a sudden… pop up again.”

“May I?” Sergei asks, gesturing a hand to the scar on his shoulder. The very last thing Dean wants is to have this guy touching the mark – and judging by the angry buzzing in his veins again, Cas wasn’t too thrilled at the idea either – but it wasn’t like they had any other ideas to fall back onto.

Sergei takes Dean’s silence as ‘not a no’, stepping up to his side and placing his hand atop the hand-shaped scar on Dean’s arm. His hand doesn’t quite fit the same way that Cas’s hand did, and Dean feels his body instinctively try to move away from the wrong hand on Cas’s mark. It wasn’t Cas’s touch on his arm, and it seemed like the scar itself didn’t want it. Just this feeling of wrongness that had the functioning parts of his body recoiling, face scrunching in discomfort that got Sam and Eileen on high alert.

“What are you doing?” Eileen demanded sharply, hands reaching for the knife stored in her jacket.

Sergei has his eyes firmly shut, his back turned to the two like he didn’t fear them in the slightest. “I am analyzing the scar, as was requested of me. Though… it appears that Castiel here does not want me doing so… Or, at least, his grace does not. That is quite the claim you put on him, Castiel…”

Sergei’s eyes snapped back open, the removal of his hand from Dean’s arm a great relief to both Dean and Castiel.

“So?” Dean pressed, shaking his left arm in an attempt to shake off the ‘wrong’ feeling that lingered. “Find out anything?”

“I have two theories – which may be connected,” Sergei answered, glancing down at his own hand with his palm facing towards him, as if he could still feel the grace surging through Dean. “The first is that this is a result of Castiel’s presence inside you. The only other grace I sensed within Dean was Michael, the Archangel; so I assume this is Castiel’s first time possessing you?”

Dean nodded in response.

“I thought so. Whilst the scar itself has faded, the grace leftover from the mark would have remained inside you. Perhaps, now that the entirety – or, at least what remains – of Castiel’s grace has entered your body, it’s mixing with the grace that was already in your system caused a reaction; forcing the mark to return to the surface. However-,”

“That still wouldn’t make sense,” Sam butted in, about to fill in with what was going to be Sergei’s next point anyway. “It should have shown up immediately if that was the case, wouldn’t it?”

“Precisely,” Sergei agreed.

“So… why is it only showing up now?” Eileen asked. “What’s the second theory?”

The amusement on Sergei’s face had disappeared completely now. His gaze had been fixated on Dean ever since he had felt the mark for himself, a look of… actually, Dean wasn’t too sure what the look was. Pity? Disgust? Sympathy? Sadness?

“Are you going to tell him, Castiel?” Sergei asked. Though his eyes were locked with Dean’s it felt like he was looking straight past Dean, trying to reach the angel that was harbored within. “If you don’t – I will.”

‘Cas… look, whatever this is… I’d rather hear it from you, okay?’

‘Dean, I… I don’t…’

‘Do you know what he’s talking about? Do you… do you know the answer?’

‘I… yes. I think so yes. But Dean, it’s… I don’t see how… I just can't. I can’t…’

“Just tell me,” Dean grated out, knowing this wasn’t going to be an argument he could win.

“I believe…” Sergei began, words trailing off as his line of sight dropped from Dean’s face back to the distractingly reddish scar. “…The reason the scar faded with time is simply because you did not accept the claim, Dean. To be expected, since you didn’t even know what it was. It is back now because, to put it bluntly… you have accepted the claim.”

The silence that followed these words had to be the most uncomfortable few seconds of Dean’s life. Sergei looked like he was regretting ever coming to this place, whilst Sam and Eileen weren’t sure whether they were supposed to be looking at Dean, Sergei, each other, or the floor.

“Not that it matters to the actual problem,” Sergei added rather late, the additional information a blessing to break the uncomfortable tension they were in. “That is why I’m here, is it not?”

“Right…” Sam said blankly, shaking his head as he tried to bring himself back to reality. “Right! Yeah, uh… so, what do you think? Can it be done?”

“No,” The single word Sergei uttered was enough to kick all the air out of Dean’s lungs. “Or at least, not to my knowledge. I could look into it further but, quite frankly… I do not see the point.”

“What?” Eileen spat, pushing past Sam’s calming hold and towards the towering Russian.

“I was quite certain from our conversation on the phone that it was not possible,” Sergei replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Dean could feel the rage that was Castiel burning inside him, the heat of it only fanning the fire of his own temper. “Then why the hell did you bother coming here?”

“Call it curiosity,” Sergei took a few cautious steps away from the pissed off faces that surrounded him. “Castiel… I’ve lost count of the amount of ‘favors’ you’ve owed me… and usually, your ‘favors’ have been nothing more than not murdering me or my loved ones. Quite frankly… you have been a thorn in my side – and so what reason would I have to put myself out to keep you alive?”

Dean’s grip on the wheels of his chair was so tight that he could feel the rubber material peeling away from underneath the force of his nails. He could feel the anger churning away inside him, ready to burst out with one wrong word…

“And besides…” Sergei continued, most definitely the wrong choice to make. The gloating, obnoxious grin was back on his face as he stepped closer to Dean, ignoring the gun Sam had drawn and currently had pointed at him. “Mostly… after what your brother told me Dean, I couldn’t miss out on an opportunity to see Castiel reduced to such a pathetic, weak form…”

That did it.

Except, it wasn’t Dean’s anger that boiled over. Castiel’s push to regain control was more like a shove, practically thrown to the back of his mind as Castiel took over. Sergei didn’t even flinch as the furious green eyes glaring at him flashed with a burning fiery blue, steadily brightening in its intensity as Castiel’s grace collected together, the violent and disastrous power it was capable of brimming just underneath Dean’s skin…

Sergei only ‘tsked’ in response to the display of power, his disgustingly sly grin widening to reveal a row of misaligned, discolored teeth. “Careful there, Castiel… You don’t want to use up too much of your burning grace, now do you? At the rate it’s disintegrating at… I wouldn’t risk it.”

Sergei wrongly assumed he had won as he saw those flaring blue eyes revert back to the sharp green ones of Dean Winchester. Though, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It hadn’t been Castiel’s choice to give back control. Rather, Dean had forced himself back into the driver’s seat as his fury propelled him forward, only just settling back into possession of his own body as his arm shoots out, catching the Russian by surprise as Dean’s hand wraps around his throat, squeezing it tight to clinch Sergei’s windpipe shut, staring up at the flailing Russian in repulsion.

“You listen here…” Dean growled at him in warning. Sam began to lower his gun down to the floor, knowing Dean had complete control over the situation – even if he didn’t exactly have control over himself right now.

“You wanna know the reason you’re here?” Dean continued, tightening his grip just a little more as Sergei attempted to pull away. “Why you, your niece, your acquaintances, everyone you love, everyone on this Earth - and every other damn Earth out there - is here? Because me, Sam, Cas, and our kid? We kicked God’s ass. Jack brought everyone back, and you know what? That wouldn’t have happened without Cas saving my life. That wouldn’t have happened without Cas insisting that Jack was good, that Jack would one day help to save the world. All of this wouldn’t be possible without Cas, so how about you show him a little bit of goddamn respect.”

Dean released his grip on Sergei's throat once the Russian’s face had shifted through a good few shades of purple. He stumbled back from the unexpected release, all but crashing into the metal barrier of the bunker’s staircase.

Sergei raised a hand to his already bruising throat, bulging eyes darting between all three of them. “What is it with you people and choking…”

“I suggest you get the hell out of our home,” Dean said. “Or like you said; you won't be doing much with a bullet in your chest.”

Sergei glanced back down to the pistol still held firmly in Sam’s hand, finger inching towards the gun’s trigger. “Alright, alright!” He said in defeat, backing up the staircase as to keep his eyes on the Winchesters – and the other weapons he knew they were likely carrying.  

The fury burning away in Dean’s veins – that of which he wasn’t sure was entirely his, or Cas’s – only ebbed away in the slightest once the Russian disappeared beyond the front door with a grumble of: “Thick-headed Americans…”

“So…” Eileen was the first to speak up, just barely resisting the urge to head up the bunker's stairs to double-check the door had locked itself. “That went about as well as I thought it would…”

“We’re not dead, so that’s a plus.” Sam offered.

“You guys have really low levels of expectations…”

“I mean… we did find out some information,” Sam pointed out. “Like, uh… we know why the mark is back…”

Sam turned his worried gaze back to his brother, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. Usually, he would chalk this up to another one of the ‘private conversations’ between Dean and Cas, but… that wasn’t what this looked like. Dean didn’t have that unseeing sheen over his eyes. He was staring directly at the floor ahead of him, jaw clenched so hard that it would surely ache something awful.

“Dean…?” Sam called his name timidly. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“You better tell me the truth here, Cas,” Dean said out loud, voice calm and steady in that detached way where your anger has passed new limits. “Were you hiding shit from us? Again?”

The only thing in Dean’s mind were his own thoughts. He could barely feel Cas’s presence, the only indicator that he was still here with him being that almost undetectable hum of something otherworldly settled in every cell of his body.

The coward was hiding.

“Don’t you run away from me,” Dean hissed out, the outburst of anger catching both Sam and Eileen off guard. “Was that Russian dickhead telling the truth? Is your grace running out?”

A few seconds tick by in the unnaturally still bunker. Somewhere from within, Miracle whines; her high-pitched note of displeasure at her owner’s palpable anger piercing the uncomfortable quietness.

Castiel does not answer.

* * *

 That night… Dean dreams of the Impala.

He dreams of endless miles of jet black tarmac and worn road markings rumbling underneath her pristine tires. He dreams of beautiful Kansas countrysides: of rolling green fields and tall, golden crops waving gently in the evening's cool breeze as they flash by his window.

He dreams of the perfect night sky. Pitch black nothingness, dotted with bright, beautiful stars that seemed to light his way as he drove.

Baby’s worn interior was bathed in an intermittent golden glow of the overhead street lights as he passes under them; the occasional flashes of light giving sight to his cracked and scarred knuckles tightly gripped around her leather steering wheel, hoping that the monotonous motions of driving would help to ease some of the tension in his body.

He dreams of Castiel.

Or, more accurately, Castiel decides to stop being a coward and face him.

There’s no indication of Castiel’s sudden presence in the passenger seat. No flap of wings to give away his arrival. One second the seat was empty, the next it was filled by an anxiety-filled angel that stared resolutely at the road in front. It had been a long time since Cas had unexpectedly showed up in his car like that, so you’d expect him to flinch just a little. Maybe jolt in his seat, maybe ever jerk the steering wheel to the side and struggle to get Baby back under his control as his racing heart returns back to its normal speed.

Instead, his grip on the wheel tightens even more. He hears the leather screech in protest under his suffocating hands.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Don’t you dare,” Dean bites out. He was still refusing to look at Cas right now. Mostly because there’s a good chance he’d punch him if he did. “You don’t get to do that like we’re all buddy-buddy right now. Not when you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Castiel stayed silent next to him.

“Is it true?” Dean repeated his question once more. “Is your grace burning out anyway? Even when you’re not using it?”

“Yes.”

Dean thought that hearing Cas tell the truth would make him even angrier than it already was. Strangely, though, it did not. Perhaps because he was already expecting the answer. Perhaps because he was prepared for Cas to try and dance around the issue by creating a series of elaborate lies that threw him off the scent.

The anger was still there, however. How could it not? But it was accompanied by another feeling. One that’s been plaguing him a lot lately.

He felt… tired.

“Is it… is it because of me?” Dean asked. “Are you burning through your grace to keep me alive?”

“No,” Castiel asserted strongly. “This isn’t because of you. My grace, it… it was already fading, Dean. Coming back from the Empty, being placed in a vessel that is not mine… Your body is able to accommodate me, Dean – considering you were built with the ability to withstand an Archangels grace… my grace is doing no damage to you. It is simply… unable to sustain itself no longer.”

“How long have you known?” Dean was pretty sure he didn’t even want to know the answer to this question. Mostly because…

“I knew as soon as I possessed you.”

Yep. That was why.

“You know from the beginning? This whole time, and you-,”

The anger boiled over for a moment. Dean cursed sharply as he slammed his fist into the solid frame of her steering wheel, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet of Baby’s interior.

“You should have told us,” Dean scolded him. “As soon as you realized, you should have told us! Told me! We could-,”

“You could what?” Castiel interrupted him. “What could you have done different, Dean?”

“Lots of stuff!” Dean shot back. “We could have got me out of the hospital earlier! Sam and Eileen could have stayed put and helped us with the research instead of going on that hunt!”

“And let countless of innocent lives perish? Do you think I’m worth that?”

“Yes!” Dean’s yell boomed around the car, whipping his head to face Castiel for the first time, who could only stare at Dean in astonishment. “When are you going to realize it, you idiot! You’re everything to me! Sam and Eileen could have passed that hunt onto another pair of hunters! And- fuck – there we are messing about in my dumb dreams, having stupid fucking beach vacations and kicking back beers when I could have been doing something to save you!”

Castiel leveled him with that cool, steely blue gaze. “I am going to die, Dean. My grace is going to burn away. I am sorry, but that is what’s going to happen.”

“No Cas, we’re going to-,”

“No, you’re not,” Castiel said sharply, voice raising to match Dean’s ticked off tone. “We both know that recreating my vessel isn’t going to happen, Dean. I would have thought Sergei’s assessment of the situation would have clued you into that by now.”

“So what?” Dean said. “You just… strung us along? Pretended that everything would be fine, that you believed there was a way too?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell FOR?!” Dean's voice rose sharply once again. “Why would you bother when-,”

“Maybe you should look at it from my perspective for once in your stubborn life, Dean!” This was one of the rare times Castiel raised his voice at him, and it never failed to shut him up the second he heard it. “I accepted my end the day I took the Empty’s deal! Knowing that in my death, I was able to save you? I was content with that. Coming back from the Empty on what I knew from the start would be nothing more than borrowed time… it’s been a blessing. Do you know why?”

Dean could only stare blankly at Castiel in numb shock.

“Because of you. Your ‘dumb’ dreams have been some of my own deepest desires, Dean! In what other scenario would I ever get to do such things? Even the simple ones, ones where it’s just us. Just us in the bunker, talking. I am grateful for this extra time, because it’s extra time with you. So yes, maybe I preferred ‘stringing you along’ and pretending that there was a chance. Perhaps I preferred being able to spend the last few days I have on this Earth in your dreams, by your side, instead of hours hunched over a desk table doing research I know leads to nowhere! Maybe that makes me selfish, but for once, I think I’m entitled to that little bit of happiness. Even if only for a little while.”

Baby’s tires squeal against the road as Dean slams his foot onto the brakes, leaving behind black burn marks on the road as the Impala comes to a sudden spot on the empty road. Dean’s chest heaves with heavy intakes of breath like he’s just ran a damn marathon, fingers trembling as they remain gripped tight around the steering wheel. “You… you can’t-,”

“I can’t what?” Castiel asks in that slow, dejected tone Dean hates hearing from him.

“You… how can… fuck!”

Dean promptly throws open Baby’s door, jumping out of his seat and slamming the door closed behind him. The cold, biting air does wonders to calm him down, taking in deep lungfuls of the night air as he attempts to clear his mind. With a shake of his head, he wanders over the front of Baby’s hood and perches himself down, burying his head into his hands in the hopes he’ll wake from the nightmare.

Because that’s what it was, now. A nightmare. Now he knows his one deepest fear will become true. He’s going to lose Cas. Again. And perhaps, worst of all… Cas seems to have given up the fight himself. Knowing this, and knowing what Castiel had just told him…

He’s sure he’s going to say or do something very, very dumb.

The hinges to Baby’s doors creak as they’re pushed open, followed by the dull thud of it being closed much softer (and with more respect, if Dean’s being honest with himself) than he had. Dean hears the soft, padded footsteps of shoes against the asphalt, then the feeling of the hood dipping as an extra weight is added. He can feel the warmth of Cas’s body bleeding into the cold air next to him, only mere inches away. Of course he would… That was his thing. Plenty of space to stand or sit, and Cas always chose to get as close to Dean as humanly possible.

Always.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel is the first to apologize. “I thought… perhaps it would be a kindness, to not tell you. To let your last memories of me be… of us ‘messing about in your dumb dreams’… I didn’t want you to worry.”

Dean pulls his head out of his hands at this, staring vacantly at the never-ending stretch of road ahead. “Why’s it always gotta be us, Cas? Why are we always dealt the shit cards…”

“Because that’s life,” Castiel responded, keeping his gaze fixed on his hands as they hung loosely between his knees. “It’s not often fair. And can sometimes be seen as downright cruel, but… I think that’s because we often focus on the negatives, more than the positives. They seem… bigger, somehow. More impactful. Sometimes, we have to stop focusing on the negatives so much. Don’t let them build up on you. Then… the positives seem just that little bit bigger.”

“Yeah, well… don’t know how many of the positives there’s gonna be when you’re gone, Cas. I… I can never seem to say goodbye to you.”

“This go around… you have more time. I know you’ll find the words.” Castiel said softly, turning his head to the side to look to Dean. “And even if you don’t… that’s okay. You were never a man of many words, Dean Winchester. You’re more… a man of action.”

Dean almost managed to laugh at that. “Yeah? How so?”

“Subtle things I’ve picked up over the years,” Castiel replied. “The pat of your arms on my back as you hug me. Your grasp on my thigh, when I returned from the death by that reapers hand. Your hand squeezing my shoulder as you wrap a blanket around my cursed body… brushing a hand over my growing stubble in Purgatory… the lingering touch of your hand on mine whenever I was saved from the brink of death…”

Castiel’s face broke out into a soft, sad smile as he reached the end of his list, finally raising his eyes up to lock with Dean’s. “You say more with your actions than I think you intend. But that’s okay. Your own personal language is the one out of hundreds that I valued learning the most.”

Dean could only hold the eye contact for a few seconds more after that, dropping back down to his lap as Castiel’s words whirled around his head. “Do, uh… Do you even know how long you have left before…?”

“At its current rate… I’d say a month at most. Perhaps a few weeks.”

“A few…?” Is all Dean can get out before his throat constricts, cutting him off. “Then what? You’re just… gone?”

“As I said before - I’m not too sure on what happens. Either I’ll simply burn away, or… I am forced to take control of you. Which is why there’s something I need to ask of you, Dean.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “…What?”

“When the time comes… when my grace is nearly all burnt out… I am going to very weak,” Castiel’s eyes were burning into the side of his head, something that Dean couldn’t ignore. “I am… worried, to say the least; that the second option will be what occurs when it runs out completely. I can not allow that to happen. Do you understand me, Dean?”

“I… No, not really?”

“There’s a good chance that I will be so weak, I am unable to eject myself from your body,” Castiel continued in answer, reaching out a hand to rest on Dean’s shoulder. Dean bit back a gasp as the electricity shot through his body once more, even though there was a layer of flannel stopping Cas’s hand from touching the scar directly.

“If that is to happen…” Castiel continued, his voice firm with his urgency. “You are to forcefully eject me, Dean.”

“What?” Dean snapped, disgusted with even the thought of doing such a thing. “Cas, I could never-,”

“I need you to promise me,” Cas said firmly, tightening his hold on Dean’s shoulder. “I could never, ever, live with myself If I did that to you. When I tell you to, you will revoke your permission. Do you understand?”

“Cas, you… you can’t expect me to do this…” Dean said, voice utterly broken.

“I need your word. Promise me you’ll eject me when the time comes, Dean. Otherwise, I’ll leave right now-,”

“NO!” Dean shot out a hand to wrap around the arm on his shoulder, keeping Cas firmly in place. “Don’t you even think about it. We… there’s still a chance.”

“Dean-,”

“There’s still a chance,” Dean insisted, his fingers scrunching in the familiar scratchy material of Cas’s trench-coat. “We still have a few more weeks at least to find something. But if we don’t… dammit… okay… I promise, Cas. I’ll… I’ll do it.”

Dean felt the grip on his shoulder relax at his promise, releasing his own hold on Castiel’s arm and letting the angel's hand slip away. Immediately, he could feel the scar on his shoulder ache, keenly missing its owner’s touch.

“We’ll find a way,” Dean promised him quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “We will.”

“You can try,” Castiel replied, gazing up at the night sky. “And that’s already more than I can ask of you.”

Looking to Cas, drinking in the subtle, relaxed smile on the angel's face as he was bathed in the ethereal silver glow of the moon, was when a question popped into Dean Winchester’s head. It was one he had been actively avoiding for… well, from the second Castiel had made that confession. That world turning, gut-punching, revelation of a confession.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Hmm?” Castiel hummed low in response, keeping his gaze on the beautiful display of stars above.

“When did you realize you were in love with me?”

The relaxed smile slipped away at Dean’s words, his throat visibly shifting as he swallowed down his nerves.

“We both know we can’t pretend it never happened,” Dean said.

“I wasn’t pretending,” Castiel said. “I didn’t mention it for your sake. I assumed you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah… not too sure if I can… but this is me, trying.”

“I suppose it is…” Castiel said. He still couldn’t look at Dean.

“So… do you know when-,”

“When I watched you rake the leaves.”

“…When you… what?”

“It was in Fall,” Castiel elaborated. “Back in two thousand and ten. This was… when you were living with Lisa Braeden and her son. When Heaven was on the verge of Civil war, and I had not long after recovered Sam from Hell. I was… desperate. Desperate for an answer. For help. You were the first person I thought of Dean. Of course you were.”

“But… you didn’t come to me…” Dean said. “I would remember that. You went with Crowley instead… you ripped open Purgatory for its souls…”

“I went to you,” Castiel maintained. “But you couldn’t see me. I kept myself hidden. I… I couldn’t bring myself to tear you away from your new life. For once, you looked at peace. You had, miraculously, found a way out of the Hunter’s life. And I couldn’t bear to be the one that brought you back in.”

“You should have,” Dean argued, but with no heat to his voice. This was an argument they had many years ago, now.

“Perhaps… but you know what was strange, Dean? As I watched you there, performing such a simple chore… I felt jealousy. A strange emotion, and one I had yet to fully comprehend… What was I jealous of? At first, I thought, perhaps, I wanted to take your place. To be free of the burden of my responsibilities. No more Heaven, no more fighting between my brothers and sisters… No more apocalypses, no more choosing sides… I thought that, somehow… I wanted to become human. To exist in a world where my biggest worries were taxes and maintaining the yard…”

“I’m guessing by the ‘at first’ that it wasn’t the reason you were jealous?”

“No, it was not,” Castiel agrees. “I was not jealous of you… I was jealous of Lisa. It’s wasn’t your place I wanted to take… it was hers. I wanted to be the one you came home to. I wanted to be the one that laughed with you in the kitchen as we prepared dinner. I wanted to be the one to stand by the window and watch you as you raked the leaves in our yard. I wanted you. It was then… that was when I realized I had fallen for you, Dean Winchester. And in realizing that… I knew I couldn’t take you away from the small piece of happiness you had found. So…”

“So, you went with Crowley…” Dean finished for him.

“Yes… and I believe you know the rest.”

“So… Jesus, that’s… what, ten years? Ten years, Cas? How… how did you hold onto that for so long?”

The corner of Cas’s lips curled up, huffing out a small laugh. “It’s not something I had to ‘hold onto’, more… it was what drove me. No matter how dark or pointless everything seemed… I had to keep trying. Not just because it's the right thing, but because… because you never gave up. Because I had you, and with you I had Sam, I had Jack, I had Claire, and Jody, and… well, through you, I had family. I had a reason.”

“Wow, uh…” Dean mumbled, awkwardly shuffling his legs atop the Impala. “You know, I uh… I’m not used to hearing stuff like that, man. Most girls that throw themselves out me, are, well… let’s say they’re not in it for who I am, more…”

“There is no denying you’re a very attractive human, Dean,” Castiel told him. For some reason, hearing Cas calling him attractive in a way that was – well, Cas like – brought a dusting of red to his face. “But your physical appearance is not the part of you that caught my attention.”

“Is it my plucky attitude?”

Cas pretended that he didn’t hear that amazing comment. “In those times where I see you doubt yourself… when you judge yourself so harshly… I wish I could give you my vision. Your soul, Dean, its… its light is what guided me to you in Hell. Even when we were down there, and you had been twisted by torture… I had never seen anything so beautiful.”

Dean laughed awkwardly – the only reaction he can fall back onto – scratching at the back of his head. “Come on… can’t be that special… I imagine it’s got quite a few blemishes…”

Cas looked to Dean’s steadily reddening face, listening to Dean ramble in his deflections with a soft sigh. “Like I said… if only you could see.”

Dean risked a glance over to Cas, only to see the angel had returned his gaze back to the splattering of stars overhead. He turned his face in the same direction, feeling himself relax as he fell back into a routine he had done many times with Sam. Watching the stars… it was the one consistent moment of peace they were able to find on the road. Throughout all the moments of chaos, traveling from one hunt to another, one shitty rundown motel to another… the night sky was always there, waiting.

Dean watches in awe as a stream of light shoots across the sky, moving so quickly it was gone in a few blinks of an eye. Then there was another. And another. And another, and another. Shooting stars, speeding across the night sky like brushes of white paint across a dark canvas.

“Do you see that Dean?” Castiel asks him calmly, raising a hand to point a finger at the streaming stars. “The stars weep when they see you Dean Winchester, for they know they could never shine as bright.”

The words seem to suck all the air out of his lungs. Dean tears his eyes away from the night sky, looking to Castiel in dumbfoundment that the angel could make such a declaration. Castiel was still looking up at the sky though, that relaxed smile on his face like he hadn’t just said yet another thing that sent Dean’s head spinning.

“I still remember the day God placed the stars in the sky. This Galaxy was the first he made, of course. The Sun was the first part of it created, and was already there before I was created myself… Back then, as you can imagine, God was… he was… I don’t even have the words for it. He was our creator, our father – I don’t think ‘love’ is an adequate enough word.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean said. “You didn’t know what Chuck was yet…”

“No, we didn’t. Life on Earth had yet to even begin. Space was just… that. Space. Darkness… One day, God turned to us and said ‘How about we fill in the blanks?’, and then… it was truly remarkable to see, Dean. It took him so long to do, used so much energy… Now, thinking back on it, the time seemed to go by in the blink of an eye, but at the end of it? There was this. What was once a blanket of nothingness was filled with these small dots of light. They seemed so insignificant from afar, but to know they were these giant balls of light… It was then, actually. God had spent all that time working, creating, utterly exhausted, and yet… seeing the stars is, I believe, when he had the idea for Souls. Each more powerful than a hundred suns… There was never doubt from us, and yet when he did it… I didn’t think I would ever get to see something more beautiful than the first soul. I was proven wrong, billions of years later, when I laid eyes upon yours.”

And that’s when Dean knew.

No, not knew… That’s not the right word. It wasn’t like a punch to the gut, kick to the head moment of realization. It wasn’t something that had him running for the hills, doubting everything he thought he knew about himself.

It was more like… accepting. Acknowledging it.

He was in love with Cas.

For all he knew, it could have been as long as Cas had known. It certainly wasn’t ‘love at first sight’ or any crap like that. No, he was downright terrified of Cas the first time he saw him. Maybe a little admiration, sure. It’s not every day you meet an Angel; one that pulled you out of Hell on God’s orders no less. And it sure as hell took him some time after that to warm up to him. But somewhere along the way, this long winding journey of theirs… he had fallen for Cas.

It had come naturally. It wasn’t destiny either. He hated that word. There was no way in hell that Chuck wrote this in as some weird, perverted love story. It just wasn’t his style, because then it would give Dean some little semblance of happiness, and he knows Chuck did all he could to keep him from that.

It didn’t happen all of a sudden. It just… happened.

When he tried to think of himself getting out of the hunter life, settling into that domestic civilian one… he could never see it. Mostly because… he always thought he’d be alone that way. Sam would go on and live his own life, and where would that leave him? Whenever he tried to imagine himself meeting someone, picturing that person by his side… the face was always blank. Which is perhaps why he could never see the whole thing working out. And now, taking in the sight of his angel smiling so peacefully as he recounts the few memories he has of a God that seemed to care… he lets himself feel it. He lets himself fill in the blank face with Cas’s…

And it just fits.

Castiel began talking again, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. “Dreams are fascinating, aren’t they? A survival mechanism built into your subconscious…. Did you know that’s why nightmares are so common? It’s almost like… a form of training. A way for your brain to act out the stresses in your waking life… but then you can also dream of incredible things.”

A smile creeps across Dean’s face as he listens to Cas talk so enthusiastically, watching as he waves his hand to gesture all around them.

“Take this, for example! I know it’s not possible with all humans, and it’s incredibly rare, but the fact that you can sometimes find a way to take control of your dreams! With one single thought, with one wave of the hand-,” Castiel waves his hand across the sky above them, creating another batch of strikingly vivid shooting stars that trailed after his hand. “-You can have anything you desire.”

“Anything, huh?” Dean asks, unable to wipe the giddy smile off his face.

“Yes, anything!” Castiel repeated firmly, finally tearing his eyes from the night sky back down to Dean. “Anything you can-,”

Dean leans across the hood of the Impala, wrapping a hand around Castiel’s familiar blue tie and yanking him closer. Cas’s words stutter off as Dean’s lips crash into his, feeling Dean’s other hand grasping tightly at the lapel of his trench-coat.

Dean tries to fight down his concern that Cas isn’t kissing him back. In fact, Cas isn’t doing much of anything other than sitting there frozen like a block of ice. When he pulls away from Cas, he’s met with blue eyes wider than he’s ever seen, and a look of both awe and horror on the angel's face.

“Why did you do that?” Castiel whispers to him, raising a hand to his still tingling lips.

“That’s kind of a stupid question, isn’t it?” Dean retaliated.

“Dean, you-,” Castiel stops, shaking his head with his eyes scrunched closed. “Please… don’t do it like this… Not like this…”

Dean frowned at the sight of Cas scooting away from him. “What are you talking about, man?”

“I know you feel bad for me…” Castiel said. “I know that you feel guilty for the way things were left when the Empty took me. And now, knowing that I don’t have long left… I don’t want this to happen out of guilt, Dean. Because you think it’s how to say goodbye, or because… because you think it’ll make me feel better.”

“Hey, hey, hey – this ain’t pity,” Dean insists, his frown deepening. “And it sure as hell ain’t a goodbye. I told you Cas; we’re gonna find a way to keep you here. You know why?”

Castiel only stares warily at him in response.

“Because we’re making our own damn destinies now. We’re writing our own story, and guess what, Cas? You’re in mine. We’re gonna get you your body back. Then me and you and gonna take Miracle for long walks in the woods. We’re gonna watch all those classic movies I promised I’d watch with you. We’re gonna have those lazy Sunday mornings where we both try and race each other to make breakfast in bed for the other. I’m going to have those days where I wake up and look at you, and I’m gonna realize just how damn lucky I am that I have your love. And I’m going to kiss you every time I remember that. You know why?”

The cautious hope on Castiel’s face is absolutely heartbreaking to see. Even worse is when he shakes his head. He should know. He should know.

“Because now I know, Cas. I know what those words should have been when you said goodbye to me. I’m not kissing you because I feel bad for you, Cas. I’m kissing you because I love you. It’s as simple as that.”

Castiel blinks rapidly at him for a few moments, the blank and emotionless look on his face doing nothing to soothe Dean’s nerves.

“As simple as…?” Cas rumbles out, the blankness giving way to disbelief, and… wait, was that anger?

“You stupid son of a-,” Castiel growls out before grabbing Dean by the collar of his shirt – who thought for a split second that Castiel was going to take a swing at him. Instead, he’s met with Cas’s lips on his own; an insisting and demanding pressure that took him by surprise. Cas’s hand shifts from his collar, resting atop the scar on his shoulder, where that spark of electricity has him gasping into Cas’s mouth. Dean’s hands find themselves grasping onto the sleeve of Cas’s trench-coat, the other resting on the side of Cas’s face; the sharp scratchiness of Castiel’s stubble against the palm of his hand being a sensation he isn’t used to - but welcomes.

“There is nothing simple about you Dean Winchester,” Castiel takes a moment to break away from his lips to growl at him. “Only you could make something so damn complicated…”

“…Sorry?” Dean meekly offers, the charming smile he usually puts on for girls coming out a bit more lopsided than he intended.

Castiel can only sigh, dropping his head down to rest against Dean’s. Dean lets his eyes slide closed at the comforting contact, taking in deep breaths of air.

“I really am sorry,” Dean whispers to him, his breath warm against the night air as it fans across Castiel’s face. “I can be a little slow at times… it shouldn’t have taken me this long.”

“I’m still not entirely sure this is real,” Castiel admits. “I never even let myself imagine what it would be like, because… I knew it could never happen.”

“I never knew it was something you wanted,” Dean tells him. “I didn’t know it was something you could want. I thought you always saw me… as a friend. A brother.”

“I did. Because that’s the way you saw me. And that was already more than I ever thought I could have.”

Dean’s face softened at that, closing his eyes again so he wouldn’t have to see the enduring pain on Cas’s face. “You deserved so much more, Cas…”

Castiel timidly reaches his hand out, the pads of his fingers brushing against the top of Dean’s hand where it rested atop the Impala’s hood. Dean twists his hand around, letting Cas’s fingers intertwine between his own, another small smile etched across his face as Cas’s thumb wraps around his.

“If I have this?” Castiel says, squeezing Dean’s hand. “I have you? There’s nothing else I could ask for.”

Dean tilts his head down to place another soft kiss on Cas’s lips, lingering there for a moment as he lets himself take in all that is Cas.

“Home…” Dean whispers against Cas’s lips, getting a confused hum from his angel in response.

“Home?”

“That’s what your grace smells likes,” Dean tells him with a lazy grin, brushing his thumb leisurely across Castiel’s hand. “You smell like home.”

Next Chapter - - ->

[writeyouin]

How will the rescue bots react when they find out their s/o has a symbiote? (And maybe the rescue bots academy too? Please if not it’s ok)

Rescue Bots / Academy X Reader Drabbles - Symbiote

A/N – This isn’t in my usual format, but there are so many rescue bots that it felt easier to write it this way, so if you would like full stories anon, then please just tell me and I’ll fix this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Heatwave

Heatwave was speechless. He always thought you were keeping something from him, but he never imagined it would be anything as insane as this. How could you keep a Symbiote from him? More importantly, if he hadn’t walked in on you and that THING talking to one another, how long would you have kept it from him? Forever?

For the past three weeks, he has avoided seeing you, yelling at you the few times you’ve tried to call. He pretends to be mad at you, but mostly he is furious at himself. How hadn’t he noticed something as big as this? There were days when you were the sweetest person in the world, and there were days that you were completely distant from him; now he knows the distant part of you was actually the Symbiote, telling you Heatwave wasn’t worth your time.

One day, amidst a fire which is too much for the bots to handle alone, Heatwave sees you running inside the burning building, the Symbiote providing an organic armour so the smoke inhalation doesn’t affect you. You stay well away from the flames, instead using your Symbiote strength to lift debris off the victims, carrying them out two at a time.

After a week of thinking about the applications of the Symbiote in rescue work, Heatwave visits you and sheepishly apologises for his behaviour. If you have a Symbiote, then he will respect that; he still doesn’t love the idea, but he doesn’t say that.

At his admission of respect, the Symbiote no longer tries to turn you against Heatwave; in fact, the Symbiote even admits that it respects Heatwave’s strength and bravery in the field.

Chase

From the second you tell him about it, Chase does not like the Symbiote one bit. He has tried to argue his point logically to you in a sophisticated five-hour power point presentation and is willing to go as far as structured debate when you still disagree with him.

All you keep telling him is that the Symbiote is a part of you, but Chase is adamant that it doesn’t have to be; if only you could see that you could have a different, safer life wherein a parasite isn’t feeding off you.

It’s only when you argue that all sentient life has value and therefore must be protected that Chase starts to listen. He could never deny the statement, so it only perplexes him further when you point out that without you, the Symbiote will die. Chase loves you, and so he will make peace with the creature inside you, if it makes you happy. However, just because he maintains a peaceful relationship with the creature doesn’t mean he won’t watch your every move to make sure it isn’t going to hurt you. Chase is a protector; it will take a long time for him to trust the Symbiote fully.

Blades

Blades saw something like this once in one of those Earth movies, Invasion of the Body Snatchers. He makes a big deal of telling you this, and constantly asking if the Symbiote is going to rip through your chest and kill everybody on Griffin Rock, just like that other movie.

“(Y/N), you’ve gotta make it leave,” He tries to warn you. “First, it makes you think it’s your friend then it eats your brain or turns you into a zombie.”

The Symbiote hears this and covers the entirety of your body, making you bigger, faster and stronger. “Say that to my face!” The Symbiote hisses at Blades.

Blades throws up his arms and runs away screaming, afraid the Symbiote is going to kill him.

Once you are in charge again and the Symbiote is only a tiny blob on your shoulder, you sigh. “Why did you have to do that? Now I have to spend the afternoon calming him down. He was already spooked enough about you.”

Your Symbiote simply laughs darkly, “Ah, but who could resist? He is so adorable when he is running away. I see the appeal in a relationship with this one.”

Boulder

When you sit Boulder down and tell him of your Symbiote, you expect him to be upset that you kept the secret from him, or perhaps to be angry, or even a little concerned. Instead, he immediately asks to meet the Symbiote, if that’s okay with the two of you.

Silently, the Symbiote appears on your shoulder, staring at Boulder with a curious gaze and only transmitting its thoughts to you. It becomes clear that Boulder’s curiosity has got the better of him when he asks if the two of you will undergo some voluntary tests in the name of science.

Your Symbiote discusses the idea privately with you, agreeing to do so, but only if you set some ground-rules about what is and isn’t allowed. You begin mediating between the two, until they are finally on talking terms to discuss the matter themselves.

Honestly, Boulder isn’t sure what to think of your Symbiote, but he will decide based on the conclusion of the upcoming tests.

Hoist

When Hoist finds out about the Symbiote, he pretends to accept it to hide his anxiety. He is too scared to ask you if this is normal for humans, so instead he goes to the one person who might know about these things; Professor Boulder.

Boulder tells him what little he knows about Symbiotes, and after that he suggests that Hoist should be open with you and the Symbiote about his feelings. After hearing the good advice, Hoist takes you to the Engineering room for a little privacy and he asks if you and the Symbiote would be okay answering a few of his questions. By the end, he feels like this experience has made your relationship stronger and he is thankful for that and eager to welcome the Symbiote with open arms.

Medix

Medix found out about the Symbiote when he was giving you a health check and the results were unusual. After confronting you about it, your Symbiote revealed itself, explaining to the young doctor what was going on.

Immediately, Medix is fascinated, and he is asking you every question he can think of. When it’s revealed that the Symbiote can regenerate your cellular structure, he is absolutely ecstatic.

Immediately, he starts running tests, not even waiting for permission before he’s taken a scan of the two of you. He cannot wait to see if this can advance organic medical procedures.

He’s so occupied, you sarcastically comment that you should leave the Symbiote with him.

You roll your eyes when he replies, “That would be great, thank you.”

Your Symbiote rests on your shoulder, whispering, “Should we tell him I can’t leave you.”

You whisper back, “Hang on, see how long it takes him to notice that I’m still here.”

The two of you will be waiting a long time while Medix draws up some charts.

Wedge

Wedge finds out about your Symbiote when you get trapped in a collapsed building. He thought you’d died, but as he started digging you out, he hears somebody calling his name. It’s a creature like nothing he’s ever seen. Once the Symbiote returns to the inside of your body and it’s just you Wedge can see, he starts to calm down, putting the pieces of the puzzle together that the Symbiote had protected you.

As someone who wants to be leader of a future team, Wedge is trying to be logical about this, but he can’t help being a little insecure about it.

What if you think you can handle a situation when you can’t? Just because you’re stronger and more resilient than the average organic doesn’t mean he wants you putting yourself in danger. He makes you and the Symbiote promise you won’t do anything dangerous, just because you can, and it’s only when the two of you agree that he calms down about the entire thing.

Hotshot

Hotshot came to check on you one night after a horror film. He is prepared to tell you that he’s coming to check on you but really, he just wants to cuddle because he’s terrified. His fears are only increased when he finds you talking to a slimy thing coming from your neck.

Before you know what’s going on, he’s ran in screaming and is hosing you down. It’s only when Heatwave comes in and holds him back that you get your chance to explain what a Symbiote is and how you came to have one.

After that, Hotshot makes you show him everything the Symbiote can do in the simulator room. Instantly, he becomes indignant about that- that THING.

How are you going to pay attention to all the cool things he can do, when you can do things just as cool with the help of your Symbiote? It’s not fair. He wanted to be the hero of the relationship, not you. How can there possibly be enough attention for both him and your Symbiote?

You finally reassure him when you say there’ll be twice as much love for him, but he’s still not sure he likes it.

Whirl

Whirl was practicing her stealth skills and followed you all the way from the training grounds to your room in the Academy. There, she saw you talking to your Symbiote. After watching for a few minutes to establish that the creature was non-hostile, Whirl ran in excitedly.

She loves you already and since you’re so great then you’re Symbiote will be JUST AS GREAT. There will be so much more to talk about. How long did it take the Symbiote to learn about Earth? IT LEARNT FROM YOUR MEMORIES? NO KIDDING, THAT’S GREAT. The three of you have to go on a triple date RIGHT NOW.

Whirl cannot wait to take a trip down memory lane and hear all about how the two of you met.

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[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 24/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle feels out of sorts, and Weaver makes another crucial discovery.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt #4: Am I dead? Enjoy more flirty investigative idiots.

[AO3]  

Belle groaned and rolled over, facing away from the sunlight slanting in through the gap in the blinds and tucking her face into the pillow and sheets.

Weaver pulled a t-shirt over his head, and glanced at her. “Alright?”

She lifted her head and squinted at the clock. It was nearly eight. “Am I dead?”

He snorted softly. “If you can ask the question, then I think the answer is automatically no. Still not feeling well?”

Turning around, he moved to the bed and sat on the edge, reaching out a hand to feel her forehead and the side of her face. “No warmer than usual.”

“My head is killing me,” she mumbled, finally rolling onto her back. “And my stomach is...blah.”

Two days ago, Belle had awakened to a mildly nauseous feeling, but assumed it was the burritos they’d had for dinner coming back to haunt her. It was carried out from a new place down the block, which was always fraught with danger, both in terms of how the food might taste, and the reaction one’s body might have later, but their meal had been delicious, and Weaver had felt no ill effects. Last night, a headache had sent her to bed early, and seemed to have gotten worse overnight.

Frowning, he ran a soothing hand up and down her leg. “Maybe you need to see someone.”

She sighed and pushed herself up. “I have my last follow up appointment today, from removing the stitches. If it hasn’t gone away by then, I’ll bring it up.”

Weaver nodded and stood to finish getting dressed. “When do you see Archie again?”

“After my follow up,” she replied, pausing on the side of the bed to press a hand to her forehead.

“Did you, uh, still want me to go with you?” She looked up, and he shrugged. “Not today, but sometime?”

“Yeah, not - not today.” Then she made a face and then asked, “Can you get me some Tylenol or something?”

“Yeah, sure. And coffee?”

At that, Belle smiled. “God yes.”

Weaver left the bedroom, and Belle forced herself to stand up. After a moment of dizziness, she realized she felt a bit better, and wondered if she had just slept wrong. She was actually looking forward to getting her official, clean bill of health from the follow up visit, and to discussing something particular with Archie - the matter of how to approach her questions with Ian. She had started thinking about the miscarriage in her head, whispering about it to herself in the shower at night, telling the story over and over, and finding that as she did it became easier. A passing reference to such a thing even a few weeks ago would have made her clam up and try to pretend she never heard it. Now it was becoming part of her, much in the same way her mother’s death had, though that had been more of a factor of time and distance than any real effort on her part.

Throughout the morning Weaver seemed to be paying her extra attention, to the point where it was starting to get annoying. Her headache abated before they’d even left the apartment, and her stomach settled with some eggs, toast, and strong coffee. At the office, he was constantly side-eyeing her, stealing little glances, with none of the winking or cheeky smiles that had passed between them in the preceding days. The pressure was back on, and she was sure the stress of the case and the looming court date were the cause of her recent ills.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

Belle huffed and pulled on her suit jacket. “Yes, I’m fine, and shortly I’ll have an actual medical doctor confirm it. Then you can stop worrying.

Weaver leaned back on the sofa, a file folder open across his lap. “I’m unlikely to ever stop worrying about you.”

She tilted her head and gave him a small smile. His concern came from a place of love, and she had always thought his protective nature was one of his best qualities.

Her purse strap went over her shoulder, with a quick flip of her hair, and then she walked over to where he was sitting. “Then maybe just stop peeking at me every five minutes?”

He reached out and took hold of her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he looked up at her. “No peeking,” he confirmed. “Got it. How about gazing?”

She snorted and bent down to plant a kiss on the top of his head.

“Ogling?” he offered with a grin. “Leering?”

She shook her head and let him pull her hand in for a kiss before pulling away. “Put your eyes on those records, Detective, instead of my ass.”

Weaver pursed his lips and blew her a kiss as she sauntered through the office door.

Belle tapped her foot against the metal step of the exam table as she scrolled through her messages.

She’d left the office barely twenty minutes ago and there were already more than thirty unread items in her inbox. Most of them were automatic responses to her requests for more of Eloise Tremaine’s records from Nevada. While the online submission system Clark County had was far more convenient than calling around city buildings and being passed from clerk to clerk, the web forms and extra emails were much less helpful than an actual human being. Still, progress was being made, and she was sure that if they could find the tie between Eloise and the Branson brothers, that they’d have exactly what DA Midas wanted.

She sighed and rubbed her left temple, feeling her earlier headache trying to return. She need to take another dose of painkillers before she got to Dr. Hopper’s.

Abruptly, the exam room door swung open and Dr. Whale came in. “Miss French.”

She looked up and smiled. “Dr. Whale.”

“Good to see you again,” he said, setting a tablet on the small counter to the side. Then he slipped on a pair of gloves and lifted her hair out of the way as he eyed the scar left from her head wound.

“Not bad,” he muttered. “There’s still some redness, but that will fade. Have you been using the ointment I gave you?”

Belle nodded. “I used up the tube, but I don’t think I need it now. The skin’s not tender anymore.”

He gave a curt nod and stepped back. “All the other superficial cuts seem to have disappeared.”

“Good moisturizer and concealer,” she said, and he laughed. “But yes, they all healed up pretty quick, thankfully.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” He sat down on the small stool at the counter and entered a few things into the app on his tablet. “Well, I will have the necessary form faxed to your workplace, and then I won’t have to see you until it’s time for your annual check up.”

She exhaled and smiled, pleased to have at least one thing behind her for now. “Good.”

“So, the nurse said something about a headache?”

“I, uh, yeah, I had one this morning, why?”

“Not frequent, then?”

She shook her head, which caused a mild throbbing wave across her forehead.

“Migraine, or just a regular headache?”

She gave him a look. “It’s just a regular headache, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

Dr. Whale leaned on the counter and regarded her for a moment. “Is it coming back now?” Reluctantly, she confirmed it was. “Any other symptoms?”

“No,” she answered, starting to get annoyed with his repeated questions. Her phone was buzzing in the pocket of her purse, and she was anxious to check it before she went to see Archie. “No, just the headache and an upset stomach. I’m fine.”

“Upset stomach?”

Belle rolled her eyes and hopped down off the exam table. “It’s nothing. I just ate something that didn’t agree with me.”

“When?” he asked, frowning.

“A couple days ago, why does it matter? It has nothing to do with my - accident.”

It was Whale’s turn to give her a look. “Belle, you didn’t have an accident trying to parallel park, you were attacked by a murderer.”

“Serial killer,” she corrected, “and yes, I was, but now I’m all good. Can I go now?”

He sighed. “The headaches can be a sign of PTSD.”

Belle gave him a wane smile. “Yes, I know. I’m - I’m seeing Dr. Hopper about it.”

“Ah. Well, that’s good,” Dr. Whale said as he pushed to his feet. “Look, I think we should do some tests, just to be sure.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What tests?”

“A basic chemistry panel, maybe a blood count, see if you might have an infection coming on.”

She frowned again, the wrinkling of her forehead causing another small wave of pain. “Sure, I guess.”

“I’ll send the vampire in to take your samples, okay?”

That earned him a soft snort and a nod. “Okay.”

Belle waited a few minutes for the nurse, and then several more as she filled up three tubes with blood. Her arm was aching after it was done, and she wondered how she’d explain the bandaid and bruise in the crease of her elbow to Weaver. If he knew Whale wanted blood samples, he’d worry even more and become unbearable. He’d probably insist on packing her off home and waiting on her in bed.

Still, as she left the clinic and stepped out onto the street to walk down to Archie’s building, she was glad she let them do the tests. If she was getting sick, she wanted to know right away so she could be back to one hundred percent to finish out the case well before the trial started.

Weaver spread out the pictures across the top of the conference table, and placed the associated forms beneath.

He wanted to have everything laid out by the time Belle returned from her appointments, so he could show her what he had found. Another break only a short time after the revelation of Eloise’s true surname had him buzzing with excitement. This was what he truly loved about his job, digging out the pieces and putting the puzzle together. The part where they hopefully got justice for the victims was satisfying, but there was something about the mental and physical effort of investigating, the late hours and countless pots of coffee, that was only second to being with Belle.

That he got to do it with Belle again made it even better, and he hoped that things would continue as they had into the future. They had yet to discuss their relationship in any detail, but she wasn’t in any rush to leave the apartment, and the last two weeks had been among the happiest since the early days of their marriage. He wanted to wait until the stress of the case was over before approaching the subject again, but for now everything seemed perfect.

The office door opened and he turned to see Belle, who looked a little worse for wear than when she had left just a couple of hours earlier.

“You okay?”

She sighed heavily as she put her purse in its usual bottom desk drawer, and said nothing as she took off her suit jacket.

“Belle?”

“Yeah, fine,” she replied. “Just tired. Talking to Archie takes a lot of out of me I guess.”

He nodded, but remained quietly unconvinced. She had been out of sorts the last couple of days, which certainly could have been stress related, but Belle usually thrived under the deadline of a trial. Right now she seemed barely able to drag herself across the room to see his newfound evidence.

“Well, maybe this will wake you up,” he said. “I got something on our second victim, Charlie Dunn.”

“Oh?” Belle perked up a bit at that, and kicked off her shoes before padding across the room. “What did you find?”

“This,” he said, giving her a sly look as he pointed to the faded pink carbon copy form under Charlie’s picture.

Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the page, and then she picked it up. It was the cover page to an adoption agreement with Charlie’s name on it from nearly twenty years ago. He would have been about six or seven at the time. What struck her though, was the state seal at the top.

“This is from Nevada.”

Weaver grinned. “Yep.”

She looked at him wide eyed. “Charlie was adopted.”

“From Nevada,” he added, nodding towards the paper.

She set the paper down on the table and looked over at one of the other victim’s pictures. “Just like Molly was.”

“Yep.”

She straightened and turned to him, eyebrows raised. “You don’t think -?”

His grin widened. “Oh, I do think.”

“If the others are adopted too…” she started.

He nodded. “Or were foster children…”

Her mouth fell open as she finally caught on to his line of thinking. “Of Eloise Tremaine.”

Belle jumped forward and pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel her body shaking with the same excitement he’d had at the discovery and what it might mean. Instantly she looked refreshed, and he was glad to see that it was probably the case dragging on and the stress that had gotten her down.

“We need all the foster care records from Robert and Eloise, and we have to pull the paper birth records on all the victims.”

Weaver picked up a stack of papers and handed them over to her. “I took the liberty of filling out all the forms while you were gone. Including the fax cover sheets.

She took hold of the other end of the papers, and beamed at him. “I love you.”

[shutupandshipit]

Little Life - Ch.7

Summary:  A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 7/16

Previous <- Chapter 6

Chapter 8 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 7: 5 Months

Katsuki groaned salaciously, melting into his nest with the roll and push of Deku's hot, hot, hot hands against his skin. "Oh yeah, right there, you perfect, prefect alpha. Oh my god~"

Above him, Izuku laughed warmly, bending to nuzzle into the back of Katsuki's neck. "You really weren't kidding. You're so tense. I don't know how you were even moving. You must have been in a lot of pain."

"Do you think I'd have be bitching if I were kidding?" Katsuki asked, but his voice lacked the usual bite, drunk on bliss. He purred loudly, and his back bowed up, chasing the feel of Izuku's hands.

"You're so responsive today. It's kind of nice." Izuku moved down his body, kneading away every knot and tense muscle. His hands and lips spent an exorbitant amount of time on his ass, but Katsuki couldn't find it in him to protest.

Instead of starting something like Katsuki assumed he would, he continued down his thighs and calves, spending time gently rubbing his feet and flexing every toe before coaxing him into his back and working his way back up. He paused at his hands until Katsuki nearly drifted off, pressing his thumbs into calloused flesh and nuzzling at the cups of his palms. His attention was nearly reverential.

It was only when he was straddling Katsuki's hips again, working his arms and chest, that he spoke. His voice dragged Katsuki out of a literal endorphin and pheromone induced haze, gentle and curious. "I didn't really notice before, but your nipples have changed color." He idly ran the soft pads of his thumbs over Katsuki's nipples. They immediately hardened, and Katsuki shivered involuntarily. "Yeah, they're like a brownish-red instead of their usual soft greyish-pink." He repeated the motion, and Katsuki's body responded in kind.

He wanted to snap Izuku's fingers off for the almost clinical way he was inspecting him, but Katsuki's omega had other ideas.

Izuku's expression was alight with fascination. "Does that feel good, Kacchan? Your nipples have never been very sensitive, but they're really sensitive now. I wonder why."

'I'm pregnant, you absolute lovable dolt,' Katsuki thought, 'Figure it out already!'

Instead of saying that, he bucked his hips to flip Izuku onto his back, following to slot between his spread knees. He pressed their hips flush. "Less talking, more kissing," he demanded, and Izuku surged up to meet his lips enthusiastically. Katsuki had never once imagined how good kissing felt before, but since he'd had Izuku's lips for his own, he could never quite get enough.

Afterwards, when they were both properly exhausted and Izuku was lovingly running his fingers through his hair, he whispered, "I really love that you're my mate, Kacchan, and I'm happy that we can be together in the open now. I'm the luckiest alpha in the world."

The enormity of his secret loomed over him again as it so often did these days, souring his mood. He didn't let the mood take hold, and turned his nose into Izuku's neck in response. Words were still hard. He'd always had to show his emotions through action.

As the emotion receded back into its sealed box, he couldn't help but think, 'You might not feel that way after you find out what I've been hiding.' He shoved that thought into his chest of secrets as well, locking everything away to hold close.

.....

Fear reared its head when Aizawa called him into his office after class one day. He had to consciously repress the anxiety in his scent as he gingerly sat on the couch that took up too much space in the tiny room that was connected to the rest of his rooms. He felt enclosed, captured, like the walls were bearing down over him and would at any moment clamp down on top of him.

The anxiety only built when Aizawa didn't say anything, only continued to sip at whatever was in his mug. Katsuki hoped it was vodka to make him less perceptive, but he knew he wasn't that lucky. He just hoped he was lucky enough to make it through this meeting with secrets and faculties fully intact.

"How are you doing in classes and with training?"

Katsuki startled, narrowing his eyes at the unexpected question.

Aizawa sighed tiredly and leaned back in his seat, crossing an ankle over his knee. "Calm down, Bakugou, you're not in trouble. This conversation would have started very differently if you were."

As Katsuki unfortunately knew first hand. "I am calm, sir."

Leveling an unimpressed look at him, Aizawa said, "I can smell your anxiety from here as much as you're trying to hide it, trouble kid. Like I said, you're not in trouble."

That really didn't make him feel any better, but he tried to slow the tripping rhythm of his heart. "You know how I'm doing. You're my teacher."

"Analytically, yes. On paper, I can see how you're doing; how much progress your making, what shortcomings you're working through, your grades. Paper can't tell me how you're emotionally holding up. You and your classmates haven't had an easy two years here, and it's my job to make sure you graduate at your full potential, or at least as close to it as I can get you." Aizawa took another sip before setting the mug down and crossing his arms. "I've been seeing some strange behavior from you since the start of the year. A de-evolution of your devotional training schedule and dietary habits. The exhaustion I've observed from you during training and class would be normal for everyone else with how hard you push, but not for you specifically. And as barely sociable as you were before, you've almost completely isolated yourself from everyone except for Midoriya and Kirishima it seems. While I don't think this is the case, I am obligated as your teacher and mentor to make sure you are still in good mental health.

"So, I'm going to ask you a question that will make you extremely uncomfortable. Are you harboring any suicidal ideas and/or have you ever or considered intentionally harming yourself?"

Katsuki's brain completely shut down for the duration of an entire minute as he tried to internalize the literal insanity of that question.

Finally, he sputtered, "N-n-no! What the fuck?"

"Everything I just talked about can be symptoms of depression and suicidal thoughts. You wouldn't be the first student I've intercepted before doing something stupid. You wouldn't be the first student to feel like that if you do. You can see how I'd be concerned about you, especially in an individual like yourself whose habits have not changed in two years."

"I'm not suicidal!" Katsuki shouted indignantly.

"Then do you still want to be a hero?"

"What the fuck kind of questions are these? Of course I still want to be a hero! I'm not going to let that damn nerd be Number one! Who do you think I am?"

Aizawa sighed grudgingly. "Someone with a lot of drive, but also a teenager under a lot of stress. You're scent has changed, did you notice?"

"So?"

Aizawa stared back silently.

"I am not suicidal!" Katsuki reiterated. How selfish would he be to be considering suicide with a helpless life growing inside him that hadn't gotten a say in the matter?

"Then what? Scents don't just change. Is it the stress? Depression? Anxiety? Something else I'm not aware of?"

He was just not going to let up, and Katsuki swallowed as heat flooded his cheeks. "I- Izu- D-Deku and I are... mated. At the beginning of the year." He wanted to combust and crawl his way down to hell.

"Ah." Aizawa leaned his head back on the edge of his chair, closing his eyes.

"Ah?!"

"Yes, well, the sexual education system is extraordinarily lacking in terms of how a mating bond changes you, and that explains it. It also gives me more insight into your personal relationships that I am, frankly, uncomfortable with." He raised his head again, grimacing as he did. "Well, now I'm obligated to have a different discussion that I was not prepared for. I'm going to take the benefit of the doubt and assume you're being careful. Despite the low probability, you know what will happen to your career if you get pregnant while at school?"

Katsuki's face was hot for several different reasons now, and he worked desperately to reel in his scent. "I'm not stupid," he grit out even though he definitely absolutely was. He was possibly the stupidest person on the face of the planet.

But his teacher didn't have to know that.

"Good. I advise you stop by the nurse's office to get on a course of birth control. Use protection if you decide to get physical. You can go now."

Katsuki was out of his seat like someone had set him on fire, and all but sprinted from the room and out to the grass behind the dorms. He inhaled the cooling air until he'd calmed down enough to stop pulling at his hair.

Sitting on the steps, he stared up at the tree tops where the sun was quickly burning the sky away. There was a flutter, a turn in his stomach, and he stared down at his own body in wonder.

He knew that at some point he'd be able to feel the baby moving, but he hadn't expected it. Even less he'd been expecting the rush of love and excitement that flushed away the vestiges of his discussion with Aizawa.

He placed a tentative hand over his stomach, and there was the flutter again, as if they were responding to his touch. The tears came in a torrent, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "God-fucking-dammit," he whispered miserably.

"Bakugou?"

"Oh, fucking kill me now," he growled before peaking over at Izuku's best friend. Why couldn't he just have one moment where someone didn't catch him crying? "What do your want, Round Face?"

She smiled gently before tilting her head back towards the dorms. "Let's talk. I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Jesus," he bit out, but more out of obligation to his mate than actual want to talk to the only other omega in their class, he dried his face and followed her inside.

.....

Katsuki was not expecting an honest to god 'shovel talk' when he followed the small brunette into her room. He really wasn't expecting it when she set a cup of peppermint tea in front of him and curled her legs beneath her on her bed, a steaming cup in her own hands. It was uncomfortably familiar to how Aizawa had started everything, and the fluttering in his stomach became nausea rather than his baby moving.

"What do you want, Round Face? I'm not really in the mood for a chat," he muttered gloomily, staring down at the cup. He was intensely aware that she'd seen him crying, and he hated the thought. Only Izuku, Kirishima and All Might had ever seen him cry save for the singular time his parents had when he'd presented. He was severely off balance from the thought.

Ochako pursed her lips for a long moment before saying, "I'm going to put this very simply and bluntly, Bakugou. If you ever hurt Deku, I will kill you and make it look like an accident. I'll rip out your throat and bury you so deep that by the time you're found again, the term will have gone from 'grave robbing' to 'archaeology', and mark my words, you will not have a grave. You'll drift from memory as the 'hero that never was'. Do you understand?" Her voice was calm, almost cordial, but the look in her eyes... She'd definitely learned that from Izuku.

Katsuki laughed without humor, bracing a hand on his forehead as heat pressed in at his eyes again. "Why do you assume I'm going to hurt him?"

"Well, you have a notoriously bad track record for being nice to him. You've hurt him more than you will ever know, and he's working really hard to get over everything you put him through. Honestly, I think this whole thing is just a disgusting form of Stolkholm Syndrome. I'm not going to let you hurt him like that again."

Another hollow laugh. "You don't have to tell me. I know well enough. I don't need your meddling, nosy ass to tell me. But we're mates. It's different now."

"Is it?" The tone in her voice had changed, becoming hard and harsh. Flat like he'd never heard her voice go before. "Then why haven't you told Deku that you're pregnant?"

Katsuki's head snapped up, and the tears escaped before he could stop them. 'No. No. Nonononononononono! Fuck!' And underneath the shock was anger.

Ochako huffed, setting her cup down on her beside table. "Don't look so surprised. I'm not an idiot. One plus one equals two, Bakugou. One being the frankly weird shit you've been doing and the other being stuff from Deku. Before you get mad, it was just him honestly gushing about your relationship."

Actually, the anger had been thinking Kirishima had outed him for reasons he couldn't father. It was more than a relief to know that his best friend still knew how to keep his mouth shut.

"I'm not stupid, and neither is anyone else, but as a fellow omega and a woman, I know my fair share about pregnancy because I made the effort to learn about my body. That, and well, a stint as a kid where pregnancy fascinated me. My point still stands. If I figured it out, there may be more people suspecting..." She trailed off, eyes tracking over his face. "Then again, probably not since no one else is an omega. They probably think you're acting weird because of the 'new' mate bond."

Katsuki didn't answer, and reached for the cup as he felt the burn of bile at the back of his throat.

Ochako sighed, and the hard expression she sported dropped into her more usual soft expression. She grabbed her own cup. They drank in silence until Katsuki couldn't take it anymore.

Slowly, he bent until his forehead pressed to his knees and choked out, "You can't tell him. Please."

"Don't hurt yourself there, Bakugou," she said, voice light.

He snapped back up, anger boiling in his stomach. "Don't take this so lightly, Round Face! I'm being-"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Serious, yes, I am taking this seriously. I'm an omega, Bakugou, and a woman, like I said before. I know what this means for the both of you if the wrong person finds out. I'm not stupid, and I'm not heartless. I want to see all of us become heroes." She smiled softly before her smile fell away, becoming serious again. "But you've been reckless. You need to be more careful with your body."

"I'm being as careful as I can, but I can't back down too much or I'll get caught."

She sighed. "Fair enough." Pressing her fingers together, she pursed her lips. "You're going to have to tell him eventually, especially before the birth. He literally has to be there. You know the success rate otherwise."

"Yeah, I've done my fucking research, Ochako. I'm not a goddamn imbecile," he growled.

"Honestly, you could have fooled me."

Katsuki snarled in reply.

"But for the sake of my best friend and his career and for the baffling love he has for you, I'll support you as much as I can. That way you'll give birth to a strong healthy baby! The fact that that baby is going to make him literally the happiest person in the world is the only reason I'm being nice here."

"Jesus, between you and Shitty Hair, I'll be getting enough paternal pheromones that Deku won't need to be in the picture," he groused, but that was a lie. No one could ever replace Izuku.

"Dirty lies," Ochako chirped.

Katsuki thought that would be the last of it, but one talk turned into Katsuki teaching her how to sew and knit which ultimately turned into long quiet hours of putting together onsie after onsie.

He wanted to hate it, he really did, but the feeling of growing his tiny little pack of soon to be five was intoxicating. So, he indulged. Izuku being excited about him making friends with Ochako was only an added bonus.

[epic-ash-and-sora-fan]

Alive Chap 2

                                           Chapter 2: Explanations.

Clemont couldn't take his eyes off it, or should he say him? Whatever the case, this day went from strange to outright impossible, How in the name of science did Brad do this? Why did he do this? The teen leant against a nearby table to stay on his feet. Brad must've noticed this as he bought a chair over which Clemont gratefully sat on.

"This...this is a joke, right? It has to be a joke."

What other explanation was there? Aside from the ludicrous one. Sure Clemont didn’t know how Brad got that boy in on this but anything would make more sense than what he was told.

“Afraid not," said Brad with a smirk.

“But….how?….It’s impossible! Is….is this even legal?!”

Brad rubbed the back of his head, giving Clemont a slightly sheepish look.

“I’ll admit it’s a bit of a grey area. Honestly, we hadn’t really meant to create him. Well, we did, but we hadn't intended these results."

Clemont took a deep breath to try and calm himself. It wasn’t really working.

“So how did it happen?” he asked.

“Well, we thought it would be helpful if we could create sort of dummy bodies for hospitals. They would be useful for training students who are looking to become surgeons. We were about done with this one when one of my colleagues, thought it would be amusing if we try to get the heart beating. I decided to indulge her because I thought the heart would stop after a few seconds, like always but...”

“It kept going?” guessed Clemont.

“Yes. Once started it didn’t stop. We had waited for five minutes when Freya discovered something shocking. He was breathing! Not only was the heart beating but the brain was also working. In hindsight, maybe the reason all the other hearts stopped beating after a few seconds was because they weren’t...for lack of a better term, connected to a brain. Now that we’ve put everything together though...it was something I failed to consider. Anyway, I thought Freya was gonna faint right then and there. I thought I was too. It’s nothing short of a miracle!”

Clemont turned to the one-way mirror where the boy was sleeping. The boy who was artificially made. Clemont still couldn’t wrap his head around it. It really was a miracle. This was completely unprecedented. Sure, he built Clembot, but he was made of metal. This boy could easily pass off as a normal teenager!

“How long has he been….alive?” he asked, still watching the boy as he seemed to snuggle further into his sheets.

"About four days," said Brad. "We've of course done plenty of health checks and some tests, all non-invasive I assure you. He’s perfectly healthy. There is one thing that concerns me though.”

“What’s that?”

“His immune system is very weak. It’s to be expected considering that it hasn’t had the chance to fight off illnesses. Right now even something as insignificant as a cold could be dangerous. That’s why we’re keeping him in that room, just for the time being. It has been sterilized so he should be relatively safe. We would give him vaccinations but as I said, he's artificial. We don't know what those would do to him. We need to do some tests first. Consider every possible risk. so until then, he'll have to stay in that room, or in this building at the very least.”

“Wow….” It’s not often that Clemont was left speechless, but that was all he could say at this point. Despite his initial misgivings, Clemont had to admit what Brad managed to do was incredible. Something like this never happened before. He understood now why Brad didn’t want to go public yet. This sort of news would blow up beyond comprehension. That boy would be famous but also at high risk of being mistreated or manipulated. It’s a cruel world out there. He stood up and walked over to the one-way mirror placing his hand on the glass.

“What’s his name?” Clemont found himself asking.

“He….doesn't have one yet," admitted Brad. "Any ideas?"

Clemont started at this. Brad was asking  him ? He didn’t even know this boy. He was about to voice his concerns when what sounded like a cough was heard from the one-way mirror. The boy was awake now and had his hands on his neck.

“Is he okay?!” cried Clemont.

Brad let out a laugh.

"He's fine. He does that when he's thirsty. Suppose I should get his lunch. Hey, why don't you join me so you can meet him."

“M….me?! Are you sure?”

“Of course,” said Brad standing up. “In fact. I’d like you to be the one to keep an eye on him. I know it’s not exactly what you signed up for but we’re all so busy with our research that we hardly have time to give him the care he needs. He needs to learn to interact with others. He’s a blank slate right now and being isolated isn’t going to help matters, so I’d like you to take care of him, interact with him, play with him. Teach him everyday skills. What do you say?”

"That….that's asking a lot," said Clemont as he practically tied his fingers together.

“I understand this is sudden and I apologise for that, the idea just this moment came to me. Well, you don’t have to answer right away. For now, let’s get his lunch seen to.”

Before they could leave, however, a researcher around Brad’s age came in holding a clipboard. He had burgundy hair and wore a similar lab coat to the other researcher. He gave Clemont a look before turning to Brad.

“Excuse me, sir, we have the results of the latest test I think you’ll find them fascinating.”

“Thank you, Reginald. Oh, this is Clemont. The new intern.”

Reginald turned his gaze to the one-way mirror. “I see you showed him that thing.”

“For the hundredth time, Reginald he’s  not a thing," said Brad sternly. “In fact, Clemont here will be seeing to his needs if he accepts the job.”

“Are you certain that’s wise sir?” asked Reginald with a touch of testiness in his voice. “I know you didn’t accept my proposal the other day but if you’d just...”

“Reginald we’ve been over this!” snapped Brad. “Unless you have something new to tell me, please return to your duties.”

Reginald’s eyebrows creased but he nodded and exited the room but not without giving Clemont a hard look.

Clemont cleared his throat if only to combat the awkward silence that followed that unpleasant encounter.

“Sorry about him,” sighed Brad. “Reginald isn’t the easiest person to get along with, but he’s very good at what he does. Shall we get down to business?”

“R...right," said Clemont shaking of the bad feeling he had, and followed Brad to another room.                                        

Interestingly, lunch was already pre-made. Brad pulled out some cheese sandwiches from the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice. He had Clemont wash his hands thoroughly so that they didn't carry any harmful bacteria. Once Brad scoured his own hands they headed back to the boy's room. Brad pulled out his badge and placed it against the reader next to the door. After it beeped he opened the door. Clemont was sure if his heart pounded any harder it would pop out of his chest.

“Food time lad,” said Brad as he put the tray of food on to the teen’s lap. He gestured Clemont to come over. Which he did.

“This is Clemont. He’ll be the one bringing food and spending time with you for the time being.”

Clemont felt his heart leap into his throat as the boy looked at him, He had chocolate brown eyes which held the innocence of an infant, which he sort of was despite his appearance. He had strange markings on his cheeks which Clemont guessed were imperfections. He was wearing a black t-shirt which looked two sizes too big. If Clemont met him down the street he would never have guessed that this teenager was built not born. He looked so real.

“Well I better look over the test results Reginald gave me," said Brad. "Will you be okay on your own for now, Clemont?"

“Oh...sure no problem," said Clemont. His nerves were all over the place, and he didn't know how successful he was at hiding it. Still how hard can sitting with an artificial teenager be?

“Okay, then I’ll see you two later.” He gives Clemont a card that appeared to have a phone number on it. “Call if you need anything.”

Clemont nodded.

“Right. Thank you.”

Brad nodded and left the room. Clemont sat on a chair next to the bed and watched the boy eat, though he played with his food more than ate it. It was intriguing to watch. Despite looking around Clemont's age, this boy had the mentality of maybe a two-year-old. It ended in a bit of a mess but the sandwiches and orange juice were gone.

“Heh, you’ve got crumbs all over you.” laughed Clemont he pulled a hanky out of his pocket and started wiping the teen down he even got some crumbs in his hair somehow. Clemont began to brush them out. He jerked his hand back for a second before touching it again. The hair even felt  real. Well almost real. It was smoother than hair tends to be but other than that it felt like normal hair.

“ash...”

The boy looked up at Clemont inquisitively. Clemont laughed a little.

"Sorry, your hair, it kind of looks like someone poured ash on your head." Clemont didn't know if this boy even understood him, but he felt compelled to keep talking. "It's not quite the same colour, but I guess if there's a lot of ash it would come pretty close. Hey, how's that for a name? Ash?"

It was a ridiculous way to come up with a name but Clemont doubted he would think of anything better, and honestly he did look like an Ash. It was like the name was made for him. The boy just continued to stare at Clemont as if he didn’t hear him. Technically, Ash was only a few days old, so Clemont didn’t really know what to expect. He took another glance around the room, now noticing how empty it really was. There wasn’t even a window.

“Isn’t there anything for you to do in here? No TV? Not even something to read?”

Another blank stare.

Well, that answered that. Clemont now understood the predicament that Placebo Net unwittingly placed themselves in. Teaching Ash was gonna be a full-time job, and they were busy with important research So it looks like it fell to him. Definitely not what he pictured when he accepted this temporary job, but he was here now, so he was gonna make sure to do a good job. It can’t be much different than looking after Bonnie. Accept for the massive language barrier.

“Don’t you get bored?” he asked. “Like when you really want to do something?”

The synthetic boy still said nothing but didn’t take his eyes off of the teen. Clemont gave a sad smile.

“I guess you really don’t understand huh? That’s okay. Hope you don’t mind me talking though. It’ll get awkward if it gets too quiet. Clemont sat back down on his chair. While not official yet since he still needed to tell Brad he decision. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and help this boy with the basics.

“Well...anyway...I’m Clemont.” He said then pointed to himself. “Clemont.” He pointed at the boy. “Ash.”

The boy stared at Clemont a bit more then he lifted his own hand and pointed to himself.

“A…..A….Aaaash?”

Clemont nearly fell backwards. Did this scientific wonder just speak?! Maybe he was just repeating what Clemont was saying. No, this boy pointed at himself so did seem to understand that Clemont was talking about him.

“Yes, yes, you’re Ash. That’s your name….urm if you like it. A name is what we call people. It’s something personal. We use names to let someone know we’re talking to them. It gives us an identity.”

The boy….or Ash….pointed at Clemont.

“C…..Cemont?”

Clemont let out a nervous laugh.

“Erm….close enough.”

Clemont soon found himself telling the boy about his life. About his dad, his sister and about being a gym leader, though he was sure that much of it went over the teen’s head.

“Siiister?”

Clemont nodded.

"Yeah, a sister is….hmm, how do I explain this? A sister is someone who has the same parents as you. Oh, a parent is someone who….bought you into this world. So, I guess that sort of makes Brad your dad, in a way."

He let out a little laugh, though Ash just gave him a look that said he didn’t fully understand.

Before the somewhat one-sided conversation could go any further the door opened and Brad came in.

“Clemont, sorry this totally slipped my mind. I need to give you this all-access card. The one we gave you expires after 24 hours. Just in case you didn’t accept our offer. I just need you to read and sign the contract. Standard procedure.”

"Oh okay sure," said Clemont as he walked towards Brad and accepted the clipboard. After carefully reading the contract he signed it finding it reasonable. He felt a sense of dread when he heard a loud thud behind him. Clemont hardly dared to look and when he did his fears were confirmed.

Ash was no longer sitting on the bed but was now sprawled out on the floor and was in the process of trying to pick himself up. Clemont was at his side in an instant immediately followed by Brad.

“Ash, are you okay?!”

“Ash?” asked Brad with amusement.

"I...guess I found a name," said Clemont as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh, I see, not bad.” laughed Brad. “It suits him I think. I’ll let the others know.”

Ash moaned and rubbed his forehead.

“Owwww….”

"Well, at least now we know he can feel pain," said Brad with a nervous laugh. "Okay, kid. let’s get you back onto the bed, then we’ll get some ice for your noggin.”

“I’m sorry,” said Clemont. “I turned away for just a second and…”

“Don't worry about it Clemont," reassured Brad with a wave of his hand. "If anyone's to blame it's me for distracting you. In fact, I would consider this a good sign. This boy-"

“Ash.”

Clemont had to stifle a laugh when Brad jolted and stared at the artificial teen who pointed to himself.

“Ash. I….identee”

Brad blinked before seemingly recovering from the shock and continued.

“Ahem, pardon me,  Ash  never actually tried to follow anyone before. Not to mention he’s talking already. He must’ve taken a liking to you.”

Clemont blushed slightly. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he turned to Ash.

“Here, let me see.” He gently took Ash’s hand and moved it so he could assess the damage. There was a reddish mark above his left eye. Clemont cringed slightly. No doubt there will be a bruise there tomorrow.

It didn’t take long to get Ash back onto the bed and with Brad’s help made an ice pack. Ash flinched back when Clemont placed it on the bruised area.

“Sorry, Ash, I know it’s really cold but it will help your head feel better.” He reached out and rubbed Ash’s shoulder. “It’s okaaaay. I’m not gonna hurt you. This will help I promise.”

More slowly this time he gently placed the icepack onto Ash’s forehead. While he did flinch again he didn’t pull away. Whether Ash understood Clemont’s words or that he recognised his tone of voice as unthreatening Clemont didn’t know but at the very least progress was being made. He took Ash’s hand and placed it over the icepack.

“Just hold it there for now okay? Good, just like that.”

Ash looked up at Clemont with the most innocent eyes Clemont has seen on anyone other than Bonnie.

“Good?”

“Yeah, good. Said Clemont giving Ash a thumbs up. “You’re doing good.”

"Colour me impressed," said Brad. "It's a job for us to keep this boy still when we’re doing health checks and here you are treating a bump on the head and he barely moves.

Clemont rubbed the back of his head.

“I…..I guess you just need to make him feel safe.”

“I see, pretty much like any other child," said Brad. "You're a natural at this Clemont."

“Well, it helps that I have a little sister.” chuckled Clemont. He took a deep breath. Now seemed like a good time as any to tell Brad what he decided.”

“Anyway, I’ve thought about it and...I’ll do it! I’ll take the job.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know how good of a job I’d do but it has to better than that Reginald guy looking after him right?”

Brad let out a laugh.

“Might have to agree with you there, but don’t tell him I said that. He’s already peeved with me as it is.”

He placed a hand on Clemont’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Clemont this means a lot and really takes a load off my mind.”

Clemont smiled then turned to Ash.

“Well, guess you’ll have to get used to seeing me around. Ash.”

Ash looked up at Clemont still holding the icepack to his face, and did something that he didn’t expect to see so soon.

He smiled.

- - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the day went with no incident. Ash was no worse for wear after his tumble. Which was a relief for everyone.

Clemont lied on his bed and stared at the ceiling. His room, at least for now, was pretty modest, considering it was really used as a break-room there was a small table with a couple of chairs and even a kitchenette. Clemont’s mind was going over the day’s events making it near impossible to sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning he gave up. Kicking off the sheets he got out of bed and exited his room. Hoping a walk will tire him out. Being sure to take his badge with him, he left his room. Sure many of the employees have gone home for the day, but a few, namely Brad and some security guard remained behind, and Clemont didn’t want to cause confusion. He was certain Brad would’ve told them he was employed here, albeit, temporarily, but one can’t be too careful.

Clemont walked down the hallways. The facility looked so different at night it was almost scary. He wasn’t all that surprised when he found himself at the same door that Brad bought him through to introduce him to Ash.

Clemont still found it astonishing that Placebo Net not only managed to replicate organs such as hearts and lungs but even created a living breathing human out of them. This would easily make the history books if Brad was ever comfortable with going public. Clemont shuddered as he opened the door and went inside, walking straight towards the one-way mirror. Ash was in bed, fast asleep of course. Clemont sighed. didn’t know when or if Brad would ever make Ash’s origins public, but he actually hoped it wouldn't be too soon. He had no idea how the public would react to Ash if they knew the truth about him. If there was anything Clemont learned about people, in general, it's that a lot of them hated anything that went against the norm. New things scared them. In fact, he was surprised and in a way, quite humbled that Brad even trusted him with this secret to begin with. He was essentially a stranger who could easily go straight to the press about this. Not that he would of course. He promised to keep this a secret and he intended to keep that promise, if just for Ash's safety.

Clemont placed his hand on the glass as he watched Ash sleep. The thought of him getting hurt or worse by some insensitive intolerant jerk made Clemont’s blood run cold. There was no way he was going to let that happen. Period.

 I’ll keep you safe, Ash. I promise.

 T.B.C

[mouseblob]

Hola!

I know I haven't posted for about 4 months even when I said Id be posting more. Sometimes I just can't find the moviation or time to do it but I hope that will change. I do have a couple big announcements to make!

#1. February 1st, 2020 I came out to my mom offically about my sexuality ( about being bisexual) and told her about my relationship with my boyfriend. I had never told her about me being in a relationship before and I'm pretty sure before this point as far as my sexuality goes, she thought I only liked girls. Around Christmas was when I decided coming out to her about my relationship is something I wanted to do, it was Christmas break so me and my boyfriend were both out of school so we spent alot of time gaming and on the phone and honestly it was my best Christmas break ever. I realized how truly in love i was with him and how I actually wanted a future with him so telling atleast part of my family sooner or later would be a good idea. My boyfriend was a great supporter thoughout the whole process, he understood how anxious it was making me since I don't like talking about my feelings especially with my family and he stuck by me through it all. I definitely don't regret, there's sometimes my mom will make a snide comment but she does that with alot of things and even though I don't want to, I've lived to live with it. I think when I first told her it was hard for her to grasp since me and my boyfriend are long distance and dont blame on meeting for awhile, around 1-2 more years, since he has some of his own personal issues to deal with first but she has come a long way and I'm thankful for her for trying. All my siblings know and they all handle it in their own way but are also most of the time supportive.

#2 After 12 years of being homeschooled I have finally graduated! ( June 26,2020) It's feels surreal but I'm glad the day finally came. When I first began school I faced some difficulties that made me believe I wouldn't graduate at the age of 18, there's nothing wrong with being an older graduate but this was just a personal goal of mine. So after a lot of hard work and doing a dual year of junior/senior highschool I can say I graduated 1 month before I turned 18! I'm glad I can now further my education in ways that are specific to my future and what I want to do with it! I'm so grateful for all my family and friends that believed in me and my abilities to get to this point!

( here's some pictures of me in my cap and gown!)

#3. This is personally the most exciting to me all. I mean I'm grateful for all of them, but this is something I've been waiting for, for the longest time. I have started the process of getting on testosterone! Yes that's right, ya boy is finally getting the T! It honestly feels amazing to type it out cause I never thought I would make it to this point of starting my medical transition. I'm going through my local planned parenthood, I had my first appointment which was a phone call consultant ( due to covid) two days ago, July 8,2020. This consultant was basically just a lot of questions. It was questions about my mental health, my sexual activity, what I want from HRT, some of the changes Im looking forward to, what helps my dysphoria and what makes it worse, if I was in a safe environment, family health history etc. Alot of the questions were focused around the services they provide and the resources they know of, they asked these questions just to see what else they could help me with besides hrt, I thought it was really considerate. Even though some of the questions revolving the monthly cycle were uncomfortable they were very kind about it and didn't make it awkward. One of the things I felt was really nice is when they asked me if I had any terms I liked to use for my body or if medical terms were okay. It showed they really do care and were coming from a place where they just wanted to make sure I'm comfortable and felt like I could open up if needed. Before we ended the call I was able to set up my next appointment which is my official intial appointment since I'll be able to go to the office. My appointment is July 20,2020. Before I go to my appointment my prescription for testosterone will be sent to my pharmacy and I have to pick it up, so when I go to the appointment I have it with me. I believe they said I'm starting out on 1ml or some type of standard dosage, my phone was cutting out so I didn't hear the number clearly. To my understanding what is gonna happen at the appointment is, me and my mom will fill out consent forums, i'm starting literally 1 day before I turn 18 so my mom still has to sign off but it's not a biggie to me, I will get some blood drawn for lab work ( just to check for some of my levels due to past family health concerns), I will get training on how to do an injection and I will be getting my first injection of testosterone. The consultant alone took an hour so I'm assuming this appointment will be around the same time or an hour more. I need to talk to my doctor about it but I'm pretty sure I will be taking the testosterone via intermuscular injections. There's definitely a lot that's gonna be happening but the fact I'm this close to starting Testosterone is amazing.

I will definitely be posting updates about my transitions more frequently so if that's something you're interested in, feel free to give this account a follow.

I believe that's covers everything for now, thank you for reading!- Cyrus

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

Here we are at the end of October, in the Year of Our Troubles, 2020. And here I am, continuing my journey to avoid reality by looking for meaning in nostalgia and TV Hunks. It’s Supernatural!

Alright so we’ve made it to my (possibly/probably) all time favorite quartet of the entire series - Disc 3, Season 1, episodes 9 - 12. For the last few discs, I’ve been keeping things pretty technical in terms of television production and broadcast. But frankly, this sh*t is my jam. All that gooey emotion, all that sweet sweet lore, throw in some man tears and *chef kissy fingers* c'est magnifique! 

Now I’ll backtrack for a hot second here to talk about the filler vs. self-contained argument that I...probably jumbled in my last post. In shows like this, I tend to use “filler” to describe every episode that isn’t arc, but honestly, that’s not fair to a number of Supernatural episodes. The main difference being, is this episode meant to pad out your season or is it simply an episode that can stand on its own two feet? I’d say that’s the case for this entire disc.

First up, it’s Home. Guys, I think I cheered when I turned this episode on. We take our Winchesters, give them some small victories, build up their confidence, and then totally break them down again by sending them back to the beginning. This is not listed as the “official” return to the arc episodes, but I’d argue that Home is where we see a return to the Main Quest. Oh yeah, and Sam finally admits that he can see...what? What do we call these? Death Omens? I think Sam calls them premonitions? Either way, it’s…*shrugs* sure, do what you want. The premonitions do become important later and they’re basically the catalyst for the whole second season and that resolution takes us into the main conflict for the third season, and so on and so on, it’s a whole thing. It just seems like a hecking lot this go around, ok? But he finally admits it to Dean and that’s probably some kind of growth. Dean going back into that house again is also some kind of growth. Of course, he was like, 4 when he swore he’d never go back to that house again? Whatever, I didn’t care. I get too distracted by the fact that DEAN IS CRYING GUYS! LOOK! HE’S CRYING!!

Oh, and one more tie to the season arc - Hecking John Winchester shows up. I mean, he’s all over the episode and I think the most shocking thing we find out about him is that he was, at one point, a business owner?? But also it ends with conclusive proof that John Winchester is a massive dick who refuses to talk to his children. And I’m sorry, I don’t buy your “have to finish it first” excuse, I just don’t. To be clear, I’m not mad at the storytelling choice to do that, I’m mad at the character, which I guess is where it should be. 

I like that this episode builds out more of the world that the Winchesters live in with Missouri Mosely (Not the State!). I like that we see they’re not alone in this very literal fight against evil. She checks back in later in the series and honestly, I love Loretta Devine so I would have watched a whole spinoff show about this character. 

Two things I don’t like about this episode? #1 What genius decided that Mary’s ghost would just be on fire for 20 years? Like, cuz that’s what I am understanding about this ghost. That she is just constantly on fire. And that’s...unkind. 

Mary, who did this to you??

#2 Only a man could have written this episode because no single mom is just gonna LET two rando dudes into her home. 

Listen boys, you’re cute, but I’m a woman with two small children. Hell no you’re not coming into my house. 

Next up is Asylum and this is so good at walking the line between creepy and Spooky. UNlike the Bloody Mary episode, I do not need to hide my face from the screen at any point during this episode. 

Hey look, it’s like they’re brothers or something!

This one is another episode that does a good job building character and the world the Winchesters live in. Like any good procedural, it uses the main conflict to bring out the more important conflict. In this case, it literally brings it out, cuz the ghost is a psychiatrist who makes Same confront all his Daddy Issues. And by confront we mean, take it out on his brother who is the saddest-motherf*cker-I’ve-ever-seen BUT HEY! Salting and burning a body finally works for once in their lives! I love all the cringing that Jensen Ackles does in that scene because they clearly hadn’t figured out what that effect was supposed to look like yet. 

It must have been a real surprise to find out the ghost didn’t light on fire.

Oh and then there’s the phone call! And man, this must have been a bitch of a mid-season finale, cuz this episode aired in November of 2005 and the next episode doesn’t come back until January of 2006 and so you’re just WAITING to hear what John has to say. 

Now wait for two months to find out what he says. 

And of course, it’s nothing. We come back in January to Scarecrow and John has nothing to say cuz he’s a massive dick. Just calling 6 months in to your nationwide search for me to let you know that I’m not dead, but also, I’m only here to send you on another assignment and cause tension. And so the show continues to break down our dynamic duo because the fight they have over whether they should listen to dad or not literally splits them apart. They also introduce Meg as a new and more involved villain for the series. I mean, sort of. We don’t see her again for like, another five episodes. And then again another five episodes after that. So like, I don’t really...know that introducing her as an antagonist...really had the effect they were hoping for?

Is she evil cuz she’s a demon or just because she’s blonde???

Here’s some issues I have with Meg, the first recurring female character who isn’t dead - she’s the first recurring female character who isn’t dead and also, I immediately hated her. I remember watching the episode the first time and as soon as I saw her I was like, oh she’s a ruiner. It was almost a relief to find out she was a bad guy at the end because it was like I was allowed to hate her? To be fair to me, Meg comes on hella strong trying to keep Sam from going back to his brother, so we’re not supposed to like her, but looking back on it now I feel like the perpetrator of some real girl-on-girl crime. Does Meg actually do anything wrong? Aside from leaning real hard on some indie-style manic-pixie bohemian free spirit nonsense, she doesn’t do...anything that should make me hate her? Until, of course, she actively acts as a wedge between our dream team, but before then, I don’t...think she does? Honestly, it could just be me, but I do think that TV has gotten much better at writing/directing/presenting female characters in a way that doesn’t feel like they’re literally shoe-horning in a third wheel. And again, ultimately we are supposed to hate her, I just can’t decide if I was picking up on signals that were intentional or not. I remember having similar feelings when they introduced Joe in season 2, but that’s still far ahead.

I am willing to admit that this might be just me. I will not take back the things I’ve said about Emma Watson though, those are justified. 

And I think introducing more characters is important. It acts the same way introducing Missouri did -it broadens the world. For half a season, our only constants are the brothers. They’re these lone cowboys in a weird, mystical, dangerous wasteland and the villains are more obstacles than actual villains. When the story you’re telling needs to feel bigger than that, you need to do some world building and sometimes that starts with adding more characters. I will say, I hated Meg less this watch than I did on the first one. Or rather, I hated her cuz I knew she was The Worst, not because I felt like adding her to the show was a threat to the storytelling. 

OH! ALSO! The first mention of Dean and Pie! My heart grew three sizes that day! 

The hecking diner won’t serve him so he never finds out!!!

And finally, to cap it all off, we have Faith which is...a surprisingly rough episode? Ok, listen, Dean just resignedly accepting his own demise is like, ugh. UGH. ugh. Buddy. Buddy you are NOT Ok. Like, Dean is so intent on keeping everyone else in his family alive but does not seem as concerned about his own health and well-being and that...just...ughghghghg...I have a lot of feelings about that. 

Listen, some day I will talk about Sam, but it is NOT THIS DAY.

Like, I get that Rev. Jerry Gergich Roy Le Grange is not actually healing people, but he literally tells Dean that Dean has a purpose and he was saved from an untimely death for a reason, and he’s kind of not wrong? But then he spends the rest of the episode stopping Roy from healing anyone else and feeling overwhelmingly guilty that he was saved over someone else. I think out of everything that season 1 has presented up to this episode, this is the most philosophical and thematically complex. There’s the question of faith vs skepticism - can we ever just blindly believe in a good turn? The fact that Dean can’t says a lot about him as a human. Then there’s the question of who gets to decide who lives and who dies? Who’s worthy of salvation and who isn’t? Why do bad things happen to good people and why do good things happen to Dean? I mean, when Dean sees the Reaper coming for him at the end, he knows that it’s in exchange for Layla’s life and he’s just...Ok with that? He doesn’t try to run or fight it, and it’s only because of Sam that he doesn’t bite it. And the end of this episode is just a real bitch slap to the feels because Layla, our Very Special Extra, knows she’s going to die and she knows she missed out on her chance to be healed because Dean was an Ass with a capital A and took her turn (probably). And she’s also just ok with that and it kills me a little bit on the inside. 

Also, Layla is played by Julie Benze from Roswell and Buffy and Dexter and she’s always A+. And Roy was in Snakes on a Plane!

So yeah, not exactly “filler” in the true sense, but ties to the season arc are not as strong as in other episodes. And watching these episodes again I realize just how important they are to the series as a whole. I mentioned Helstrom last week and since then, I’ve finished the season. It’s only 10 episodes, and while I definitely enjoyed it, none of the emotional climaxes felt earned. 

Is how I feel. About the Emotions in Helstrom. That doesn’t mean I won’t watch a season 2. 

When you focus solely on the main arc in every single episode, you miss these little moments to develop character and relationships. When you get to the end of the season where the Winchesters are finally all in the same room taking on the Big Bad, there’s this feeling of satisfaction - you’ve been waiting for this moment. You’ve been waiting for Sam to reconcile with his father. You’ve been waiting for the guys to finally take on this thing that killed Mary Winchester. You’ve been waiting to see what will happen when the quest is over. That’s what makes the character decisions in the finale feel so big and so important, because they’ve been built up and built up for 22 episodes - 7 months in broadcast time. I think it’s harder to have the sort of weight that Supernatural builds in a show that stays so focused on the arc because its season is only 8 - 10 eps. There’s no room for sidetracking to build on the relationships in the show. You don’t have time for it, so you either have to keep character moments smaller (I’d argue MUCH smaller) or you end up with a finale that doesn’t resonate with the same gravitas as you want it to. 

Don’t get me wrong - I know it sounds like I’m ragging on short seasons, but I think a short season can be very effective when it’s done right. I also think a full season of 22 - 24 episodes can be very effective when it’s done right. But I think there’s a fundamental difference in how you tell the story when you have a short vs. a long season. I think TV is still figuring that out as it goes, as writers who are accustomed to long seasons shift gears to tell their stories with fewer installments. But I hope that TV doesn’t completely do away with the more procedural-style/self-contained episodes since those can be a powerful way to connect with your characters. That’s why I’m here in the first place.