#i have to wear a stupid little toe thing to prevent more pain on the ever growing bump

[seraphim-soulmate]

kinda crazy how a guy will have chronic health problems and then get other health problems on top of that. you should get ONE thing and that's IT.

[smuggsy]

i would love to see #11 for the prompt thing (just want to say i adore ur current ed/oswald/omc series btw im excited for more! <3)

owww, thank you so much <3 it's nice to hear ppl are actually enjoying it bc i've got almost no feedback. another chapter is coming soon (;

but now onto the whump below the cut. #11 “Please, let me help you.” 

Getting used to his impaired vision is no easy task, he'll admit. Now that the doctor's made a thorough job of cleaning the wound and administering antibiotics to prevent infection and prescribed him two different kinds of painkillers and now that the initial shock of it all has passed. Now it downs on Oswald that this is who he's going to be from now on, that watching his step carefully when he goes down the stairs and bumping into walls that are closer than they seem is something he's going to have to get used to. 

As if walking around with a limp and a cane wasn't demeaning enough already. He lets out a grunt as he finally makes it to the kitchen, everything is sunk in darkness and he fails to turn on the lights two times before he finally finds the switch.

He sees the switch. He knows where it is. It's always been there, in that exact same spot, and he's walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night to fix himself some tea countless times before.

Now the switch has moved.

"Urrgh," he grunts one more time as he turns around and collides against the kitchen aisle. He nearly grabs one of the chairs and tosses it across the room, a sudden rush of adrenaline and fury coursing through his sleep-deprived mind.

There's a pang behind his eyepatch as if mocking his helplessness but he calms down soon enough, closing his good eye and taking a deep breath to brace himself against the counter. He manages to put the kettle on without any further incidents, but when he stands on his toes to reach the cabinet —how many times has he told Olga to keep that stupid tea-set at hand?!— he topples over and ends up sending two very nice cups to their deaths.

They crash on the floor with a piercing sound and Oswald startles and grits his teeth at the commotion. 

Deep breaths, deeeeeep breaths.

Choosing to ignore the incident he turns around to switch off the gas with trembling hands and pour the water into the one cup he did manage to obtain. 

Except, of course, his mind is still foggy from restless sleep and drugs so he misjudges the angle entirely and ends up pouring it all over his hand holding the teabag in place instead.

He lets out a yelp and drops the kettle instantly.

"Ow! Shit! Stupid little—!"

The water drips onto the floor unceremoniously as he tumbles over to reach the water tap and put his hand under it.

Ed barges into the place only half a minute later wielding a handgun, with hair sticking out and with his glasses askew. Oswald barely spares him a glance, blood boiling under his skin and dangerously close to the edge already.

"Oswald, what—"

"Nothing!" he blurts out almost immediately. Edward bearing witness to this mess is the last thing he needs right now, "just go away."

But, of course, he's Edward.

"What happened?" his friend asks, pistol forgotten on some nearby shelf and rushing over, words the slightest bit slurred by slumber and Oswald thinks lucky you, being able to get a wink of sleep, and takes another of those deep breaths that are doing a poor job of slowing down his heart rate. 

"What does it look like it happened, Ed?!"

Edward stares at him numbly and then his eyes dart around the place like he's only now taking it all in, seeing the shattered china on the floor and the pool of water by their feet. Immediately he brings both hands to Oswald's under the cold water from the tap and tugs at it.

"Let me see."

Oswald jerks him away.

"No— I'm fine!" he bites out, "go back to sleep."

Despite his ill-mannered humour, Edward doesn't move. Oswald doesn't look at him while he stands next to him in silence, letting the waters cool, clearly giving him a moment to backtrack on his request. And then, ever so softly, Ed's hands return, to his elbow this time. A touch too gentle it almost makes Oswald let out a whine — because he's tired, and aching, and sleepy and nothing turns out for him as of late.

"Please, let me help you."

His words are a caress in Oswald's ear. Barely there. Ed keeps his warm fingers on his arm and slowly brings the hand to his chest for inspection. Oswald lets him, this time. All energy seems to leave him with that puff of breath and he lets Ed guide him to one of those chairs he was contemplating taking all of his frustrations out on just a minute ago.

There's a slight hiss of sympathy.

"Should be alright with a little cream and a bandage," is Edward's assessment. 

Oswald rolls his eyes and fights down a sappy retort much like: yes, I know that, I'm not so incompetent that I need you here to issue an official diagnosis, just leave me to rage in peace. He nods tiredly instead, shoulders slumped and yawn unavoidable.

"I'll be right back," Ed says with a hoarse voice, moving around quickly despite his dishevelled appearance, looking perfectly awake now but sounding nothing like it. 

Oswald doesn't try to stop him. Because he knows it'll be a lost cause and because he's afraid if he starts poking too much at the situation he'll end up embarrassing himself and crying out his frustrations on Ed's shoulder.

Not ideal.

So he keeps silent instead, watching Ed's expert hands apply that cold salve on his knuckles and wrap his aching red-looking skin in a white bandage, giving up on not looking miserable because what's the point.

He is miserable.

"There, all done."

Ed pats him twice on the thigh as if comforting a hurting animal and Oswald can only offer a small scoff in return. He can smell Ed's shampoo from where he's standing so close and he keeps his eyes fixed on that loose crumpled white shirt he wears to sleep, afraid to look up into the gentle eyes he knows he'll find behind those glasses.

Because he might start blurting out stuff that shouldn't be blurt out if he does, as helpless and exhausted as he's beginning to feel.

"Now let's get you that cup of tea."

Ed turns around to make himself busy and Oswald takes the opportunity to scatter away.

"Where—"

"Sofa," he crooks out deadpan. 

That's where Ed finds him ten minutes later, staring at the unlit fireplace as if willing it to come to life on its own. Sitting on his usual spot with the lights off and a glassy look of resignation. 

"Chamomile," Ed says as he offers the steaming cup. Oswald doesn't have the heart to tell him he's changed his mind and would rather down a glass or two of that aged Scotch instead. He takes a sip without muttering out a word. Ed sits down just beside, clearly not taking the hint, "you're uncharacteristically quiet."

Oswald shrugs.

"Just tired," he offers, and then, only to put Ed's mind at ease, gives him a practised look of reassurance and a smile, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Edward turns the attention back to him, ignoring the clear dismissal implicit in the words.

"Did you go to sleep at all?"

"Yes."

"Is your eye bothering you?"

And then the Oswald from the kitchen returns without a warning and he lashes out.

"Goodnight, Ed."

Edward goes to speak again but stops himself when Oswald sends him a sharp menacing look. He looks nothing short of a kicked puppy as he gets on his feet and turns around to leave.

And then he doesn't leave.

"I could start a fir—"

"Goddamn it, Ed! Just leave me alone!"

And just like that the fourth and last cup of that lovely set ceases to exist, turned into another pile of shattered porcelain on the floor. Because Edward Nygma is a pain in his fucking ass, and he doesn't know how to read an indirect and back down and just disappear. He pokes and pokes and pokes—

—and when Oswald turns to look at him with that murderous glare, he sees no reaction from him. Clearly, this was his intention all along, from the very first moment he walked into that kitchen, to see just how much he could take, to push until he broke, to make him talk about it.

Oswald should have learnt to read Edward Nygma by now. Should’ve seen it coming.

As Ed strides back to him with purpose and swiftly sits back down on the sofa and leans in to wrap him into an embrace, Oswald understands he definitely still hasn't learnt to read Edward Nygma. 

"What are you doing?" he pushes him away half-heartedly with his good hand. Edward doesn't let go, an unmovable brick wall that cannot be swayed.

"I'm hugging you."

"Let go—"

"No."

Oswald blinks. Then lets out a breathless laugh. He can't seem to fathom any other reaction to this — provided this is actually happening. Provided it isn't a secondary effect of being drugged up to his eyeballs for a whole week, now. 

He stops trying to tug Edward away and instead slumps against him, head resting on a slim shoulder and cold and runny nose poking Ed's neck as he keeps giggling at the unprecedented gesture. 

Edward's hug is implacable but awkward. He doesn't move, his broad hands against Oswald's back just pin him in place almost in a possessive fashion. He's clearly unskilled in the ways of physical reassurance.

Oswald realises those nervous giggles he's letting out are actually sobs.

[buoyantsaturn]

there’s something precious about this (something so wretched about this) (3/?)

summary: the truth about Nico’s fiance comes to light

word count: 3,306

read on ao3 | read chapter one

Nico had been given a few novels’ worth of documents to read before the next meeting with his advisors. Proposals created by his advisors, treaties and trade deals with neighboring kingdoms. 

It was all horribly boring, but when Nico had gone to Will for a distraction, Will had grabbed his own book - some medical text he’d been studying - and dragged Nico outside. Will sat down against the trunk of a tree in the castle’s courtyard and pulled Nico down with him, laying Nico’s head against his chest. Will kept Nico in place with an arm across his chest, his hand keeping his book propped up on his lap. 

The proposals were still mind-numbing, but being bored out of his mind was a little bit more bearable with Will beside him. Still, he found himself starting to fall asleep not even a quarter of the way through his assigned readings. He only shook himself awake when he heard someone approaching them until there was a shadow covering the page his eyes were skimming over. 

Nico glanced up, shading his eyes from the sun as he recognized Reyna, one of the highest ranking members of the royal guard, standing above him. 

“The council would like a word with you,” she told him plainly.

Nico held up his still unfinished readings. “I haven’t finished with this yet. I told them I’d arrange a meeting once I was ready.” 

“That’s not what they intend to talk about,” Reyna informed him. “Would you quit being such a pain and follow me?” 

Nico pouted. “You can’t speak to the king like that.”

“What are you going to do,” Reyna asked blandly, “behead me?”

Nico huffed, and tipped his head back to say to Will, “I’ll find you again later. Let me up, would you?” 

Will pulled his arm away, giving Nico’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before Reyna pulled Nico to his feet. 

She led him into the castle, into the private meeting room where Nico’s council of advisors were waiting for him. Nico was sure to make his annoyance clear as he crossed the room and dropped into his usual seat at the head of the table, dropping his unread stack of papers on the table in front of him. “Could this not have waited until I had finished my readings?” 

“This matter is more important at the moment,” Lord Thanatos informed him.

Lord Minos cleared his throat. “You still have yet to introduce us to your fiance.” 

Nico choked. “Do I have to?”

“Obviously we will need to meet with your fiance in order to plan the wedding and send out the invitations--”

“Fine,” Nico cut in quickly. “Arrange a dinner for tonight, and I’ll make the introductions there.” He pushed his chair back, planting his hands on the table as he rose to his feet. “May I return to my work now?”

“One more thing,” Minos added, raising a single finger in Nico’s direction in a way that made Nico want to cut his hand off with a sword. “We can only assume that you have been spending time with your fiance unchaperoned. You must know that there is a certain image of the kingdom that we must maintain, and in order to keep that image intact, it would be best that you not be caught doing anything...unsavory with your fiance.” 

Nico felt himself flush, at the fact that his advisor would say such a thing aloud, and at the sudden, unapproved thought that passed through his mind of doing unsavory things with Will. “Are you going to tell me that, once the introductions are made, I won’t be allowed to spend any time with my own fiance?” 

“Of course not,” Lord Thanatos assured him. “You won’t be allowed to spend any time alone with her. Reyna has already agreed to acting as your chaperone until further notice - she is to keep you from behind like anything other than a royal, and prevent you from soiling your fiance before the wedding.” 

If Nico wasn’t bright red before, he surely resembled a ripe tomato now. “If that’s everything?” he said through gritted teeth. 

The advisors exchanged looks, as if double checking that they’d covered every topic, and then nodded. “You are dismissed,” Thanatos told him, and Nico didn’t hesitate to swipe his papers off the table and bolt from the room. 

Reyna kept up with him, always remaining a few steps behind, as though she was his shadow. As Nico threw open the exterior doors, attempting to return to the courtyard, Reyna stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Don’t you think you should inform your fiance of tonight’s dinner before you return to your work?”

“Let me worry about my own affairs,” Nico snapped, and pushed open the doors. 

Will was sitting exactly where Nico had left him. Nico didn’t hesitate to sit down beside him once again, leaning into his side as if he’d never left. 

“That was quick,” Will commented, lifting an arm to wrap around Nico’s chest once more, allowing him to fully settle in.

“It would have been easier for them to have had Reyna pass a message along,” Nico grumbled, turning his focus back to the papers in his hands, shuffling them as he tried to remember where he left off. “Oh, by the way. There’s going to be a dinner in the grand dining room this evening. You’re invited.” 

“I am?” Will asked, finally lifting his gaze from his medical texts. He spotted Reyna standing a short distance away, at attention, as if guarding the area - though her eyes tended to stick to Nico more often than their surroundings. “Um. Why is Reyna still here?” 

Nico groaned and rolled his eyes. “I’ve been given a chaperone. She’s supposed to keep me from doing anything unsavory with my fiance.”

Will pressed his lips together, though that wasn’t enough to rein in his laughter. “Unsavory, really? What sorts of things do they think you’re doing with this mysterious fiance of yours, in your very limited free time?”

Nico hummed. “They probably wouldn’t be happy about this position we’re laying in, first of all. Second, they likely wouldn’t approve of the murder scene they’ll find if you don’t stop laughing at me.” 

Will nodded. “You’re right. Murder is just as unsavory as whatever the council thought we were getting up to.”

Nico had gone to change before dinner, knowing the council as a whole would scold him as a parent would a child if he showed up with grass stains on his clothes. He had made Will promise to change into something a bit dressier as well, though Nico had no intentions of breaking out his most formal clothes for a simple business dinner. 

Because that’s all this was, really. Nico’s life had become a tool for the council to use in order to make better deals with neighboring kingdoms. Deep down, he’d always known that would happen, but he’d also assumed that being king would give him at least a bit of power.

Whatever. At least he would feel some control once he had the chance to introduce Will as his fiance. He smiled to himself in the mirror after he’d finished being dressed for dinner, thinking about the looks on each of his advisor’s faces as he brought a man with him to dinner. He suddenly found that he was more excited than anything else. 

Reyna cleared her throat from the doorway, and Nico turned to look at her. “His Majesty seems to be forgetting something,” she commented. 

Nico glanced down at himself - he was fully dressed, decently accessorized. He was wearing the skull-shaped ring that had been pried off his father’s cold finger after his death and had been passed on to Nico as a symbol of the shift in power. His hair had even been pulled back and out of his face, so Nico couldn’t imagine what he could possibly be forgetting.

“Have you forgotten your fiance so quickly?” Reyna asked when Nico only looked at her in confusion. “How will she know to attend tonight’s dinner if you never bothered to tell her?” 

Nico grinned, which seemed to throw Reyna off slightly, which only brightened his smile. He added another face to his list of ones to watch when he made the introductions that evening. “My fiance will be there,” he assured her, and moved past her to leave the room.

He took his time walking to the dining room, knowing he was a bit ahead of schedule, though as he paused outside the doors, servants and lesser nobles alike kept trying to usher him inside.

“No, thank you,” Nico told them each and every time, “I’ll wait here for my fiance.” 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long before he saw Will rushing into the castle, tripping over his own feet and struggling to button the last few buttons on his shirt as he moved. He had changed from the clothes he’d been wearing earlier in the day, though what he was wearing now was barely a step up in formality. Still, at least his shirt was collared and his pants were without rips or snags. 

Nico grinned the second he laid eyes on him, and as soon as Will looked back, he smiled as well. “Hi,” Will said, sounding out of breath as he approached, still fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “Sorry, I got caught up in reading, and I lost track of time, and-- This stupid button--” 

Nico stepped closer, swatting Will’s hands away as he did, and carefully slipped the button into place. “You’re here now,” Nico told him, straightening the collar of Will’s shirt after he finished with the button, “and that’s what’s important.” Will beamed, and Nico felt warm all the way down to his toes. He suddenly felt himself thrumming with the urge to do something stupid, so he channeled that energy into doing something not quite as stupid as he could have, and he reached up to fix Will’s hair.

He cleared his throat and took a step back, eyeing Will from head to toe, nodding in satisfaction before he said, “You didn’t have any other shoes?” 

Will tilted his head in confusion, frowning down at his shoes. “What’s wrong with my shoes?” 

“Nothing,” Nico answered quickly. “Shall we go in?” 

Will took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then offered Nico his arm. As Nico set his hand in the crook of Will’s arm, he said, “Remind me sometime to contact the royal tailor.” 

“Huh?” Will asked, and then nodded when the words seemed to process. “Yeah, alright.” He led Nico toward the doors, and they paused as a pair of servants pulled the doors open for them.

“Maybe the cobbler, too,” Nico added quickly, and Will started to nod before Nico’s meaning caught up to him, and he made an indignant sound before Nico elbowed him in the side. 

A servant announced their presence as they entered, and Nico felt all eyes turn toward him - half of the nobles in the room had heard that Nico was waiting to enter with his fiance, and he had no doubt that word had spread to the rest of them. 

“His Majesty, King Nico of Angelos,” the servant announced, rather unnecessarily, in Nico’s opinion, “and William, the court physician’s assistant.” 

Nico felt Will tense under his hand, and he seemed to shrink under the attention - or maybe he felt ashamed by his lack of proper title. After all, Nico was one of the only people in the kingdom that knew Will’s true parentage.

“William of Solace,” Nico corrected, remembering the way that Will had introduced himself when they were children, and he saw Will perk up again beside him. It wasn’t his true title, though Nico hadn’t learned until a few years down the line that Will was actually the runaway son of Duke Apollo of Delos. Will had always preferred his mother’s home of Solace over his father’s Delos, anyway.

Nico led Will across the room to the head of the table, where a seat had been left empty for Nico’s fiance, at his request. Nico pulled the chair out for Will to sit, and push it in for him as well to help him get settled. In a moment of boldness, Nico reached down and lifted Will’s hand off the arm of the chair and pressed a kiss to his knuckles before giving the hand a comforting squeeze.

He stepped away to his own chair, though before he sat down, Nico said, “I’d like to introduce you all to my fiance, William of Solace.”

There was silence throughout the room as Nico took his seat, only breaking when Nico reached for his cup to find it empty and said over his shoulder to the nearest servant, “May we have some wine, please?”

The room around them erupted in loud complaints from Nico’s advisors, though Nico focused on making sure his own cup was filled before he passed it on to Will, then reached for Will’s cup for it to be filled as well before he took a sip from it. A quick glance around the room allowed Nico to see that his advisors were even more appalled that Nico was drinking from a regular tin cup, rather than the golden one he’d passed off to Will - it only made Nico all the more excited about the reveal.

He set down the cup and began listening to the words his advisors were spitting at him.

“You can’t marry a man,” one exclaimed. “Who will carry on the bloodline?”

“We simply cannot approve of this, Your Majesty,” another insisted. “How do you think the other kingdoms will respond?” 

Nico leaned back in his seat as a plate of food was placed before him, and he watched Will do the same, though across the table, Nico’s advisors appeared too furious to allow the servants to set their plates on the table. Nico glanced back at Will, studying his face to see that he looked somewhere between terrified for his life and like he might burst out laughing at any second. Nico wanted to reach out to him, take his hand and give it another comforting squeeze, but their chairs were just too far apart. Nico reached for his wine again, instead.

“A king can’t marry someone like him,” Nico heard one of the nobles say, “he’s just a healer!” 

Nico slammed his cup down on the table, dark liquid sloshing over the edges and dripping like blood onto the table. He raised his other hand sharply, and the room fell to silence once more. 

Nico leveled each of them with a cold glare, his voice firm and impressively collected as he told them, “He’s not just anything. He’s the love of my life, and I expect you all to treat him as you would any royal consort. My father had already given his approval for our marriage before his passing, as has Will’s. If any of you have any issues with our engagement, you are welcome to take a trip down to the Underworld yourself to question the former king’s decision.”

Nico watched as a few members of the council shifted uneasily, and then turned his gaze to Will, suddenly nervous as to how Will would take his outburst. Clearly, he needn’t worry, because Will was watching him with a soft smile and eyes that glittered brighter than the golden cup he drank out of.

He didn’t remember Will ever looking at him like that. What did it mean?

Nico took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, and took another sip of wine. If he kept up this kind of drinking without eating anything, he wouldn’t remember this night come morning.

After a few moments, Lord Thanatos cleared his throat, and Nico almost reached for his dinner knife just in case he needed to make his threat clearer somehow. “There is still the matter of William’s parentage to discuss,” he said calmly, and Nico felt himself relax even as Will tensed beside him. “Solace is home to no one of note - it is but a small farming community. Surely His Majesty understands that he cannot marry a humble farmer.”

“He is no farmer--” Nico argued, though he cut himself off when he saw Will setting down his utensils on either side of his plate.

Will cleared his throat before speaking. “My mother was from Solace,” Will told them, “but my father is Duke Apollo of Delos.”

“Then you are not of Solace,” Minos pointed out, “but William of Delos.” 

Will flinched. “No, I--”

“Meaning you’ve been living in this kingdom under a false identity,” Minos continued. “Should we assume, then, that you have lied and cheated your way into your position as the physician’s assistant? And that you gained your engagement to the king under false pretenses?” 

“No,” Will argued. “I earned my job here, and I--” He looked to Nico for help.

“I’ve known his true identity since we were children,” Nico assured them, “as did my father. Will has never lied or cheated his way into anything, especially not my heart.” 

Minos opened his mouth to speak again, but Nico was quick to grab his knife. “Minos, if you attempt to intimidate my fiance into a false confession, so help me, you will be advising my father again very soon.” 

Minos leaned back in his seat and began to eat.

“William,” Thanatos began, and glanced at Nico who was still brandishing his knife, “...if I may call you as such?”

Will nodded briefly, and Nico lowered his knife as he started to eat. “You may,” Will said before taking a bite off his own plate.

“How do you intend to fill your place in the court now that you’re engaged to the king?” Thanatos asked, keeping his tone measured. “You have been studying under the court physician for most of your life - how could we possibly find someone to replace you on such short notice?”

Will blinked in confusion. “Replace me?” he repeated. “I don’t intend to find a replacement.” 

One of the advisors scoffed, and if Nico’s knife hadn’t been lodged in his steak, he might have thrown it across the table. “Surely you don’t intend to continue practicing medicine throughout your marriage.” 

Will frowned. “Of course I do.” He looked to Nico for support, his eyes full of concern as if saying, you wouldn’t make me give up medicine, would you?

“Would you have told the queen what she could and couldn’t do?” Nico asked the council plainly, though there was a threatening edge to his voice. 

Minos scowled. “Would you expect us to call him Queen?” 

“Of course not, you idiot,” Nico snapped, “but I do expect you to pack your things and find a new king to advise, because you are no longer welcome here.”

Minos gasped. “Excuse me--”

“You have been given more than enough chances to correct your way of thinking,” Nico informed him. “Be grateful I am allowing you to leave the kingdom rather than locking you away in the dungeons. You are excused.” 

Minos rose from his seat with a huff, throwing his napkin down on the table before storming out of the room. Nico waited until the doors had shut behind him before he continued. 

“As for the rest of you,” he said, his eyes scanning the table to make sure no one else would try to argue. “Once we are married, you will refer to my husband as king, and nothing less.” He turned to Will, resting his chin on his hand as he asked, “Which do you prefer, King William of Solace, or King William of Angelos?”

thanks for reading!!

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[atmostories]

Greg Tolan x Reader

What is this bullshit you may ask? I don’t fucking know, I’ve managed to reign it in as just a one shot and thought you might enjoy reading it? Rest assured Chapter Six of Matter is coming. My heart needed a little break cos it’s hurting me lol. Speaking of hurting. . . Tags: Rape/Non Con, Gender Neutral, Sadism, Masochism, Injury, Dom/sub Undertones, BDSM Elements, Explicit  Inspired by this video from @winksasleeplesseye​ and the lovely @kingkarate​ x - - - You tried not to tense when you spotted Greg coming down the corridor with his buddies in tow. Grabbing another textbook from your locker, you kept your head down, hoping that he wouldn't notice you. But of course. . .you weren't that lucky. “How's the little tulip doing today, hmm?” He asked sarcastically before snatching the textbook from your hand. He was leaning up against the lockers, making a show of flicking through the pages. You swallowed nervously, your eyes flicking down his body before you could stop yourself. At least his buddies weren't with him anymore to see you checking him out. Fuck that would have been bad.

When he turned his attention back to your direction, you lowered your head. Sometimes looking him in the eye seemed to antagonise him, other times- “Look at me,” he ordered softly. You stilled at the quiet authority in his voice and immediately obeyed him. A smirk twitched up his lips. He then purposefully dropped the textbook onto the ground. Greg crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, expectant of you picking it up. Your cheeks flushed with heat and his smile only widened. As you crouched down and were about to pick up the textbook, he spoke again. “Oh and tie my shoelaces while you're down there.” Blood rushed to your ears. For a few moments you couldn't move, was he really asking you to do this? In front of everyone walking past? “I'm not going to tell you again.” The threat was clear, if you looked up from the floor he would probably be clenching his fists. With shaky hands you reached for one of his sneakers which was untied. You made the first knot, ensuring that it wasn't too tight or too loose. Then you carefully tied together the two loops you'd made before tying the loops again to make it extra secure. Your face was hot as you took to your feet, nerves swirling in your gut. You hoped you'd done a good enough job. “Forgetting something?” The amusement was evident in his words. You looked down, checking to see if his other sneaker was tied when you noticed the textbook was still on the floor, you hadn't picked it up. You quickly bent down and grabbed it, trying to ignore the growing embarrassment. As you stood up, your head bashed into the locker door and you grunted in pain. Your eyes were watering from how much it hurt. His expression changed into something more serious, the amusement had completely gone from his face but it wasn't replaced by pity. It wasn't that at all. For a brief second his lips parted open and you could have sworn he looked down at your mouth. “Good thing I needed this,” he mumbled, taking the textbook from your hand. He brushed past you without another word and you watched him stalk off down the corridor, somehow disappointed that he had left. - - - Over the next few days, you only saw Greg in passing, once in the cafeteria, another time on the soccer field during gym class. It felt. . .strange for him not to come find you like he always did. You didn't know what the fuck was wrong with you. It should have been something to celebrate and here you were, still wondering where he was. That must have been the self-preservation, it wasn't like you actually missed him. It couldn't have been that. For third period biology class, you got your usual seat at the back. This was the only class you had with Greg and the anticipation of seeing him again had you on edge. You shared the desk with Nick and when he sat down next to you, he mumbled a greeting and you said hi back. There was less than a minute to go before class officially started and Greg still hadn't turned up. You looked back and forth between the clock and the door. Was he sick or something? Maybe he was skipping class for once or- Your heart twinged as he strolled into the classroom. He was wearing jeans, a bright blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and those stupid fingerless gloves. Staring at his sneakers, you were glad to see both his shoelaces were tied. Why were his feet still getting closer? He was second row from the front, he was. . .he was glaring at Nick, gesturing for him to get lost. Nick immediately shot up from his chair and found an empty seat elsewhere. Fuck, fuck, why was he sitting down next to you? He flashed you his teeth in a wide grin as he sat down beside you. “Miss me?” He teased. You slipped a hand down to your chair, about to shift as far from him as possible, but he stuck out a leg, his foot wrapping around one of the chair legs to prevent you from moving. “Don't be rude,” he chided softly. Before he could say anything else, your teacher started the class and began to talk about next week's pop quiz. Suddenly your chair was yanked in his direction and you had to grab onto the desk before you lost your balance. He had just dragged you even closer to him. You focused on the blackboard behind the teacher even though you could feel his eyes trying to burn a hole into you. In the corner of your eye, you watched him slowly peel off his gloves and tried not to think about how big his hands were. When your teacher rolled out the television and turned on a documentary about photosynthesis, you were relieved that you wouldn't actually have to talk to him. With the blinds closed and lights turned off, the documentary started playing at an uncomfortably loud volume. It wasn't like you could ignore how close he was, but maybe you could relax a little. After only a couple of minutes, your luck ran out yet again. You froze in sheer panic when he grabbed onto your wrist and placed your arm on his thigh. His grip only tightened as you tried to break free. Using his other hand, he slowly pulled up the sleeve of your sweater until it was bunched up above your elbow. You attempted to wrench away your arm for the second time but he held you steady. He was completely unfazed by your desperate movements. The strength he had never felt so acute, you've never felt so weak. His fingers traced down the soft flesh of your forearm, and for a brief moment you registered pleasure. He then pinched at your skin and twisted. Somehow you managed to hold back a cry of pain. You gritted your teeth as he twisted even harder and you clenched your eyes shut. Fuck it hurt. An unsteady breath escaped you when he finally stopped. The reprieve lasted only a couple of seconds before he moved further down your arm and pinched you again. Without thinking, you reached over and grabbed his hand to try and stop him. He responded by pulling back one of your fingers, threatening to break it. “Put your arm on the desk,” he murmured in your ear. He spoke the words so softly you almost shuddered. The contrast between the comforting sound of his voice and the pain he was inflicting made you feel confused. An ache in your heart seemed to dissipate outwards before moving down to your gut, and in between your legs. When you didn't immediately comply, he wrenched your finger back a little more. You did as he asked and laid out your arm on the desk. There was nothing you could do. If you called out to the teacher, he'd just make it worse for you later. He was in complete control and you didn't understand why part of you felt gratified by it. “That's good,” he whispered, shifting his grip on your wrist. Arousal coiled in your gut and your eyes widened at the sensation. What the fuck was wrong with you? Why were you- He pinched and twisted the skin above the crux of your elbow so hard that you had to bring your hand to your mouth and bite down on your knuckle. You were able to muffle the cry that escaped you. If the TV wasn't so loud, someone would have heard. But no one did. No one knew what he was doing to you, and even if they did, they wouldn't do a damn thing. The pressure of sinking your teeth around your knuckle was almost balancing out the pain in your arm. “What did I say?” He reminded you. Turning towards him, you could still make out his face even with the blinds closed. “Please,” you begged, shaking your head at him. “Please.” He raised his eyebrows like he was waiting for the correct response. It made you think of the other day, when he said that he wasn't going to tell you again. You laid your arm out flat on the desk, splaying your fingers wide. “Don't look away from me,” he ordered. You stared helplessly at his dark eyes. He immediately resumed, he pulled and twisted your skin, continuously finding undamaged flesh to inflict more agony. A constant stream of soft grunts and whines kept bubbling up your throat and there was no way for you to hold them back. You couldn't take in a proper breath, he didn't stop. He didn't stop at all. Your eyes were watering, the tears spilt freely down your cheeks. His mouth was parted open like he was enjoying you suffer. Your toes were curled, your feet started to drag back and forth across the floor trying find purchase. He hooked his leg around both of yours to pin them against the chair and stop you from moving. Any relief you tried to seek, he tore it away. You were shaking. His fingers kept finding the most sensitive parts of your arm. It hurt so much, it hurt so fucking much. He never looked away from you. Your lips were trembling. You were light headed. You couldn't take in enough air. It was like he was tearing you apart. It was like he- A gasp escaped you when his hand reached in between your legs and he squeezed. An intense shot of pleasure ripped through you and your thighs clenched against him. Your body shook. Oh fuck, oh fuck you just came. He rubbed against you for a few moments before he pulled away. You watched him in horror, not understanding what happened, barely able to think past the throb in between your legs. He smiled at you softly. “My little tulip hmm, I knew you liked it too.”

[maulusque]

guess who just learned a whole lot about burns for a smut fic

it me.

so anyway now i have Ideas about how clone medics would treat blaster burns and they Definitely aren’t all going to make it into the fic because the blaster burn is honestly supposed to be an excuse for one character to undress the other

TW: burns, description of how severe burns affect the body (clinical, not graphic) and burn treatment

So, let’s assume that damage from a blaster bolt is basically a burn that is very small in terms of surface area, and whose depth depends on whether or not it was a direct hit, any armor you were wearing, the power of the blaster, etc. So you get 3rd and 4th degree burns that are like an inch square, which you don’t really see in the real world that often. I think any blaster bolt that comes into contact with a person is going to inflict AT LEAST a third degree burn (which means the epidermis and dermis are destroyed, basically the whole thickness of the skin), but usually would be deeper (4th degree), destroying muscle and bone and whatever else is in there. You’d only get away with a second degree burn if the blaster bolt just skimmed you and didn’t actually hit. Skin around the blaster wound would be white or black.

A skimming shot (2nd degree burn) would actually be the most painful, because once you get to 3rd and 4th degree burns, the nerve endings are destroyed so you don’t feel any pain. Which means that when you get shot with a full-power blaster bolt, you might feel a momentary flash of pain, but then nothing, and if the shot doesn’t immediately down you, you’d probably just keep going, and you might not even notice. Which. Imagine the angst potential of a clone trooper being shot 3 or 4 times and just. not knowing. Clone troopers who keep fighting despite being riddled with blaster bolts, right up until they collapse dead, never even knowing they were shot. Oof.

On the other hand, a weaker shot, say, one that hit a weak point in your armor or came from an underpowered blaster, might dissipate slightly on contact, meaning you’d still get the deep wound that wouldn’t hurt, but there’d be a small area of 3rd and 2nd degree burn around the opening, which would hurt like hell. A painful blaster wound would be a good sign, since it means it isn’t as deep.

Treating blaster burns wouldn’t be quite like real-world burn treatment, because real-world burns, especially severe 3rd and 4th degree burns, tend to cover a lot more surface area of the body than a blaster bolt would, because the things that tend to burn you that badly are not tiny and focused like a blaster bolt. Which means a blaster wound is probably less lethal than severe 4th degree burns, so yay for that i guess. Bacta patches, as well as the ability to cover the entire wound site easily without risking damage to delicate tissue, would greatly reduce the risk of infection.

Treatment involves excision (removal) of dead tissue, and usually for 3rd degree burns, skin grafts. 4th degree burns tend to need amputation- but I’m not sure if that would apply in a situation where the burn is deep but very small- instead of burning your fingers down to the bones (don’t go look at the wikipedia article for burns unless you want to see that), it’s just one small area of your body, with living tissue all around it. And since Star Wars has Magic Healing Juice, clone medics probably don’t need to go around performing amputations on everyone who gets shot in a limb. 

I think that burn treatment in the Clone Wars would be somewhat like this:

-in the field, slap a big ol’ bacta patch on it, to protect the wound and help stabilize the patient until further treatment can be performed (bacta would help the body handle the sudden physical trauma, as well as actively fight off any infectious microorganisms). Most blaster burns would probably heal okay with just a bacta patch (see: Rex on Saleucami), but really won’t heal properly without actual treatment. (Although Rex seemed to be just fine the next day, despite the nerve damage that immobilized his arm. My personal theory is that Kix used some sort of mega bacta patch, a step up from the standard. The little blinky lights on it indicate that it has electric components for some reason, so my interpretation is that somehow that bacta patch has Extra Features (tm) that allow it to regenerate nerves)

-once there is more time, the patient can be treated for reals. Removal of dead tissue could be accomplished by a medic with a scalpel, but it would also be interesting if there was a patch or ointment of some kind which was applied to a wound which would just, dissolve the dead tissue without damaging the surrounding tissue. Perhaps it involves some sort of microbe. Sort of like those tanks of tiny fish you stick your feet in and they nibble all the dead skin off your toes? Like that, but microscopic and for wound care. 

-the medic would then apply a burn patch, which is essentially a specialized bacta patch. The patch not only applies bacta to the wound, but also contains a pre-generated skin graft, so that as the wound heals, it incorporates the skin tissue from the patch into the healing wound site. The patch is not meant to be removed or replaced. Eventually, once the wound is healed, the top layer of the bacta patch is shed like dead skin flaking off a sunburn. These patches were developed specifically for the GAR, and can only be used on clones, since the skin tissue is generated from clone stem cells. The burn patches greatly speed up and improve burn treatment, since clone medics don’t have to go back in later and perform a skin graft, and subsequently monitor the healing of two wound sites, which would greatly increase the chance of infection. 

-Nerve regeneration does not always occur with the standard burn patches, and if it does, is not always complete or perfect. Many clones, therefore, have small numb patches at the sites of old blaster wounds. They may also suffer chronic cutaneous pain at those sites. Unlike in the real world, treatment for this would exist, but would not be available to clone troopers since clone trooper healthcare sucks.

-Nerve-regenerating treatments, like Rex received on Saleucami, are expensive, and are only used when the nerve damage is severe enough to be disabling (e.g. Rex’s arm). The special patches are particularly costly, and normally Kix would have waited until Rex was back in the medbay in order to apply a slightly less costly treatment for his nerve damage, but since they weren’t able to transport Rex and had to treat him in the field, and the nerve-regeneration treatments become less effective the longer treatment is delayed, Kix used the Mega-Healing Patch right away. 

-so post-engagement med-bays would have the following procedure: blaster wound patients who are well enough to move on their own (which is more of them than you might expect, since they’re not bleeding out or immobilized by pain), would line up in the med-bay, probably along a wall or in a designated area. Medical techs would go around, removing armor and blacks around wound sites and cleaning the area with water. They would then apply debriding ointment (the dead-tissue-eating stuff), and move on to the next patient while the microscopic pedicure fishes do their jobs. The patient would be checked every ten minutes or so to see if the ointment has finished removing all of the dead tissue. I think it would be cool if the ointment fizzed as it worked, due to the microorganisms releasing gasses as they metabolize dead tissue, and once the ointment stops fizzing, you know it’s done.

 Once that is done, the ointment is gently removed, and a burn patch is applied. The patient is assessed for further treatment, paperwork is filled out, painkillers given if the wound is less severe (and therefore painful), and the trooper is free to go. Troopers would probably be talking to each other and cracking jokes, singing songs, or complaining about being bored. Most of them aren’t even in pain. Medics aren’t at all reluctant to physically hogtie a trooper to prevent them from moving since it’s easy to forget that you’re wounded and start roughhousing with your brothers.

-improperly treated blaster wounds, i.e. ones that only received a bacta patch instead of a burn patch, would take much longer to heal, would leave a more noticeable scar, and would cause the skin and muscle of the healing wound to contract, which could be painful and limit mobility, depending on the location of the wound.

-which is why it is common practice to check your squad-mates for blaster wounds they may have missed after engagements, and it’s not uncommon for a medic to menacingly track you down like “I know you got shot, i saw it happen, now get your ass into my med bay before i write you up for clinical stupidity”

so ANYWAY there’s my Clone Wars Medical Headcanon of the day, happy new year. I’m going to go back to writing my smut and if anyone can guess the pairing i will be VERY impressed

MORE under the cut because i fell down a bit of a rabbit hole lol

OKAY so dehydration is a big concern with burns because the skin is what retains fluid and severe burns obviously damage your skin. Fluid leaks from the burn area, since the skin is no longer present to contain it, and this leads to loss of electrolytes and dehydration, and can be lethal. From my brief google foray, it seems that it wouldn’t be a huge concern for blaster wounds, since the surface area that is burned is very small. However, multiple blaster wounds would probably be dangerously dehydrating. Clone troopers in standard blaster wound treatment (i.e. the guys sitting around bored while the debriding ointment fizzes) are probably fine with oral rehydration, meaning that someone shoves a bottle of rehydration formula at them and makes them drink it while they wait. 

Patients with more severe blaster wounds are probably kept hydrated intravenously.

There are also potential complications during or after wound healing that are very interesting! Fluids continue to leak from damaged tissue while the wound is healing, and if the surface heals before the deep tissue, can lead to edema (basically, accumulation of fluid in body tissue) can occur. Edemas get worse with rehydration. If the wound doesn’t heal quite right, it can form a compartment, which is a closed space of muscle tissue, nerves, and blood vessels, surrounded by a fascia, which doesn’t stretch. If fluid is leaking into the compartment, the pressure can compress capillaries and nerves, which is called compartment syndrome. Troopers would be told to look out for the symptoms after they are released from medbay. Symptoms include:

-severe pain, out of proportion to the wound, which does not respond to pain medication

-paleness of skin

-weakness or, in severe cases, paralysis of limb

-prolonged capillary refill time (takes a long time for capillaries to refill with blood)

This would have to be surgically treated. 

3rd degree burns in real life can take months or years to heal. Due to Star Wars Advanced Healing Juice, and clone trooper genetic enhancements allowing them to heal faster than standard humans, this time is reduced to weeks or even days (again, see Rex on Saleucami). 

[hotchley]

“some of us grow up to catch them”

morehotchcontent day seven: sick fic (”i’m fine.” “you have a fever of 102, that’’s not not fine.”/tummy rub)

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety  @unionjackpillow

aaron hadn’t been to a crime scene before. not one like this. where the pain and the horror and the destruction was obvious. where the depravity of human nature could be seen, clear as day. he had seen the photos, and he’d seen the aftermath, once the forensic team had taken the most despicable parts away for analysis.

“hotch!” he shouted.

but it was too late.  he’d already come over.

he was frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off the body, but wanting nothing more than to get as far from as it as was humanly possible. his hands were trembling- his entire body was shaking- and he was shaking his head, the word no wordlessly leaving his mouth as tears streamed down his face. dave wanted to run over and tell him everything was okay, but hotch had never gotten this emotional on a case. he had no idea what to do.

and then he keeled over, throwing up on the grass, groaning as he pressed a hand to his stomach.

we’re ending on hotch’s most iconic quote, and the fic that i was more excited for, even though it’s a few days late!

trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, depictions of a deceased child at the hands of an unsub, implied/referenced mutilation, implied/referenced child abuse

read on ao3!

David Rossi knew from the moment he first saw Aaron Hotchner in Seattle, slightly distressed by the dead body but raring to go and catch a killer that he was destined for something more. Something more than just a field agent, or head of department, or god forbid white collar crimes. He knew from the beginning that the kid was going to do something incredible.

The BAU was something incredible. The idea that they would be able to catch these killers, not by waiting for them to slip up and make it obvious who they were, but by looking at their crime scenes and getting in their head so they could be stopped before it even got to the screwing up stage, was something that not a lot of people believed, or had faith in.

But David Rossi did. As did Jason Gideon and Max Ryan. And with a bit of convincing, so would Aaron Hotchner.

The killer had left Seattle. Rossi and the team had to go back. But instead of going back to the precinct with Jason and Max so he could do his part in clearing up, Dave hung back and said he would go with Hotchner. His two colleagues gave him identical looks of disapproval as though they already knew what he was about to do- and who was he kidding, of course they did, they were all profilers. Hotchner’s fist clenched at the use of his last name.

Dave pretended he didn’t notice. At least not until they got in the car. But he needed to know that if this worked out, if the kid could convince his girlfriend to move across the country to Quantico, what cases would get to him the most.

“So, you don’t like being called Hotchner,” he said.

Aaron’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s not my favourite thing no. Why?”

Defensiveness.

“Just making conversation. He’s dead now, isn’t he?”

Aaron almost missed the turning. “Agent Rossi, with all due respect, please don’t profile me.”

“I’m not. It’s written very clearly in your face that you don’t like being called Hotchner. Given the fact that it’s a southern surname and you would have grown up there in the 70s, it’s more using some common sense. But I suppose there was a little bit of profiling involved.”

He sighed. “What do you want? You must have a reason to voluntarily drive back with me instead of your much more exciting colleagues.”

“They’re not that exciting, but I’m sure they’ll love to know you said that. But well done for realising that I do indeed want something. As the BAU gets taken more seriously, we’re likely to be taking on more cases. And in order to do that, we need more profilers. And I watched you out there. You have the instinct. With a bit of training and a lot of experience you may turn out as good as Gideon.”

“So you admit he’s better than you?” Aaron said, with a small smirk.

“I never said that. And you seem to be avoiding answering my question.”

“Maybe that’s because you didn’t ask one.”

“Fine. If you can get that pretty girlfriend of yours to agree, how would you like to join the BAU?”

“Haley’s my wife, actually. I don’t wear the wedding ring because it puts more of a target on my back and I want to come home safe to her. You’re putting an awful amount of trust into a rookie you met a few weeks ago.”

So somehow this kid managed to be cynical and fun at the same time. If he accepted the offer- which of course he would, who wouldn’t- everyone would be kept on their toes. It would make a change though. Aaron had witnessed and experienced terrible things, there was no doubt about that, but he still wasn’t as damaged or tarnished by life as the rest of them were.

“I just have a feeling. So, what do you say?”

“I’ll talk to Haley about it.”

They had arrived back at the precinct now. Dave got out, leaving Aaron to think things over as he drove back to the field office, probably to complete his own paperwork.

“Good man. And Aaron?”

Aaron turned to face him, eyes wide.

“Hotch is a good nickname.”

He grinned. “It is.”

Six months later, Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, who immediately after being introduced would say: please call me Hotch because southern manners never could be truly unlearnt, joined the BAU. Two weeks after that happened, the team met his wife- not girlfriend- Haley for the first time. They’d walked away with the same opinions.

Well. Max Ryan didn’t really have an opinion on her either way. He didn’t think she was amazing as Aaron did, but then, nobody did. It was why the two of them were married.

Jason and Dave just didn’t like her. Neither could quite place what it was about her, but there was something that just didn’t sit right with them. However, Aaron properly loosened up when he was with her, and he was a grown adult that could make his own decisions and so they had to accept his choice of spouse. Even if they didn’t completely approve.

And Aaron knew they didn’t. They thought they were being subtle, but apparently they weren’t. And it must have been bad because he was the one that had first implemented the no inter-team profiling rule. If they wanted to be annoying, they would have profiled that. But that was the only time Dave had ever seen the kid angry at someone other than the police or an unsub.

So after meeting Haley for the first time, there was a small wedge between the various team members. They did their best to remain civil, but Dave could tell Hotch was hurt by his disapproval. He just didn’t know how to tell the man he was sorry and was probably just a bitter man going through a second divorce- he was realistically only one of those things but Aaron didn’t need to know that- who was being cynical in a way that wouldn’t embarrass him. Usually when he needed to apologise, it involved flowers and chocolate.

He doubted Aaron would appreciate that. If anything, he would throw them both away because of how embarrassed the whole thing would make him. So Dave needed to be smarter than that. He needed to apologise in a simpler way. One that would be more genuine.

He wanted to just say the words. But Aaron was avoiding them all.

Until he had his real case. For the month that he’d been there, nothing urgent had needed their attention. It had all been casefiles and paperwork. But then they got the phone call. They were being summoned to New York. It was a decent drive.

“Hotch, you’re with me,” Dave said.

Hotch looked up. Something about him was different, but what, he had no idea. His eyes were slightly glazed and he didn’t seem fully there, as when he heard that he was going to have to spend roughly five hours in close proximity to the one person he’d spent three weeks not interacting with- which for two people in the same team who had a small area to work with, was quite something- he just nodded and grabbed his phone before quickly leaving, presumably to call Haley.

He didn’t say a word as he was driving. Rossi kept a careful eye on him, wanting to know why he was still wearing his stupid jacket when he looked about ready to pass out. His face was flushed, his eyes slightly unfocused and a large part of him just wanted to make him pull over and explain himself. The larger part of him knew that would just worsen the situation.

“There’s a gas station right there. We can switch over,” he said.

“I’m good,” Aaron replied. He looked pale now.

“Agent Hotchner, that was a command,” Rossi said.

Hotch pulled into the gas station without another word but refused to look at Rossi when he got into the driver’s seat, having dashed inside to get some water, light snacks and a thermometer. Instead he stared out the window, looking every bit the angst-ridden teen Rossi knew he had been, and probably still was.

“Open your mouth,” Rossi said, once the doors to the car were locked and they were driving again.

That made Hotch turn around. He looked even worse than before, his glare looking more desperate than anything else.

“Excuse me?” Hotch said.

Rossi grinned at him, before holding up the thermometer, keeping one eye on the road so he didn’t kill them both. “Either you do it yourself, or I will. Your decision.”

Hotch cleared his throat and opened his mouth, probably to make another smart comment, or express his utter disgust at being treated like a petulant child. Rossi used that moment to shove the thermometer and press on, Hotch unable to do much more than make a muffled sound of protest. He folded his arms over his chest, but with the thermometer preventing his speech, it did little to make him seem scary.

Rossi took the time to actually observe him.

“You look like shit.”

“I’m fine.”

The thermometer beeped. Rossi, one hand still on the wheel, took it from Aaron’s mouth before he could react.

“You have a fever of 102. That’s not fine.”

“I’m fine. You know who’s not fine? The families of those three dead boys in New York. They’re not fine. And more people are going to get hurt if you keep worrying about me, so just stop it!” Aaron’s voice was fading. He coughed, more than a few times.

Dave sighed. This kid was their family now, whether they wanted him to be or not. “Aaron. You’re allowed to have limits. Nobody is going to think any less of you.” He knew he was already on thin ice, but he needed Aaron to know. “Nobody is going to punish you either.”

Hotch curled into himself. “Don’t profile me.”

Rossi, despite everything, smiled. Aaron may not have admitted he was unwell, but he hadn’t explicitly denied it again. And he was making small jokes. Perhaps they were getting somewhere. “I’m not. I just wanted you to know that if you need to sit out at any point-”

The moment was ruined.

“Agent Rossi, I will be fine, so please don’t patronise me.”

His hair was a mess. Despite how well put together he always looked, his hair was a mess. It showed just how young he was. That was Dave focused on. He couldn’t focus on the ache in his chest. He didn’t get attached to people. Especially not agents that just reduced his life expectancy.

They drove the rest of the way in complete silence that was only ever interrupted by Aaron coughing or sniffling. By the time they reached New York, it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. When they got out the car, Hotch stumbled slightly. Rossi wanted to steady him, but Hotch still seemed volatile.

“What happened?” Max asked, gesturing to Hotch when Rossi walked over.

“He’s unwell. Won’t admit it. Same old.” Only it wasn’t, because whenever somebody else was unwilling to admit they were unwell it was because they didn’t want to be stuck at home or prevented from doing something. Aaron’s reasons seemed much ingrained, much more serious.

Gideon sighed. “If he’s that unwell he should really just go straight to the hotel.”

“You can be the one to tell him that,” Rossi said.

“Let him be. He’ll be fine,” Max said, disinterested.

Rossi wasn’t convinced, but then Aaron walked over, looking paler than ever. He seemed more balanced, but he had one hand pressed to his stomach. Dave wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. And he wasn’t about to risk arguing with him in front of the police officers.

“Let’s go then,” Rossi said, faking some semblance of brightness, refusing to look at Gideon, who probably just looked confused.

“Thank you so much for coming. Officers, these are SSAs Rossi, Ryan, Gideon and- is it Agent Hotchner?”

Hotch nodded, not even bothering to correct them. Rossi gave him another concerned look. Aaron was still turned away from him.

“It never gets easier, no matter how many years you do the job for. And no matter how many years you do this for, the evil nature of people always manages to shock you,” the detective said, sighing.

“It’s fine, Detective. Shall we?” Ryan said.

The detective got his impatience and led the way.

David Rossi had seen terrible things in his life. He had seen more death, destruction and horror than most people could dream of. He had seen the life leave the body of his friends as death came for them. He had watched the hope faded from desperate parents as the knowledge that their child was never coming home finally sunk in. He’d stood by as killers got away with a smirk on their face and a glint in their eyes because of some stupid technicality.

But having to see a crime scene involving an innocent child… that was horrific. And if he could, if he was granted one wish it would be for that to never happen to anyone ever again. He resisted the urge to hit something, to outwardly react. The public could not see them fall apart. They just couldn’t. Instead he crept forward, trying to ignore the horror before him.

Gideon and Ryan seemed saddened. But then, they had never been as impacted by things as the rest of them were. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Hotch was talking to someone. The mother. He clasped her hands, stared into her eyes and said something that made her smile slightly before coming over. He was like a ghost now, one hand putting pressure on his stomach. Rossi couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, which wasn’t good. But there was something else bugging him.

He realised too late.

Aaron hadn’t been to a crime scene before. Not one like this. Where the pain and the horror and the destruction was obvious. Where the depravity of human nature could be seen, clear as day. He had seen the photos, and he’d seen the aftermath, once the forensic team had taken the most despicable parts away for analysis.

“Hotch!” he shouted.

But it was too late.  He’d already come over.

He was frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off the body, but wanting nothing more than to get as far from as it as was humanly possible. His hands were trembling- his entire body was shaking- and he was shaking his head, the word no wordlessly leaving his mouth as tears streamed down his face. Dave wanted to run over and tell him everything was okay, but Hotch had never gotten this emotional on a case. He had no idea what to do.

And then he keeled over, throwing up on the grass, groaning as he pressed a hand to his stomach.

The detective gave him a sympathetic look. “Please don’t let him be too mortified. It happens to everyone.”

Hotch had managed to pull himself to his feet and had vanished off somewhere. The elder profilers exchanged looks. Max Ryan looked disgusted-he should be able to handle a crime scene, after everything he had already seen and done. Jason Gideon looked confused- Hotch had been a prosecutor before this, surely, he knew what to expect.

Dave sighed, then walked away. Max called out for him, but he ignored it. They didn’t see to have any problem with profiling each other and this was probably the most obvious thing he’d done in a while.

He almost didn’t see Aaron at first. But the precinct cars were white, so when he walked past the second time, the small patch of black sticking up made it rather obvious.

“There are better places to rest than here,” he said, by way of greeting.

“Just leave me alone and don’t make jokes right now. I know I’ve disappointed everyone, and you must all think I’m incapable of doing this. I’ll have my resignation on Gideon’s desk when we get back. But I can’t face the rest of them. Not like this.”

Dave had never seen Aaron so weak. His knees were pulled up to his chest, head against the car door. He looked so small, so young and terrified as to what was going to happen next. With a sigh, and well aware his suit was never going to recover, he sat next to Aaron, who flinched away.

“Hey, it’s okay. You haven’t disappointed anyone. I think you’re more than capable and would hate to see you go. It was an overwhelming crime scene, that’s all. It was your first time at one as well. And I would hate to see you resign.”

Aaron turned towards him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. You’re unwell as well. Most people would’ve turned around or not gotten involved. You fought through that and showed more determination than a lot of the people I’ve met. You’re a good agent Aaron. An amazing profiler. You can lose it every once in a while. Just don’t do it in public.”

“Nobody else seems to lose it,” Aaron said.

“Maybe we should. Lord knows I want to.”

“He looked like my brother.”

It was such a sudden confession that for a moment Dave didn’t understand. When he did, he made a soft noise. “Oh Aaron,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Hotch’s shoulders, not even caring about the germs.

Hotch was falling apart in his arms and that terrified him, but he needed to be strong, if only until Hotch stopped sobbing.

“He never touched my little brother. Not once. I made sure of that. But when I saw- I couldn’t help it. All I could see was him and what could have happened.”

Dave shushed him. “But it didn’t. It didn’t and you’re both here. He’s not. It’s all going to be okay.”

Aaron groaned. “My stomach-”

Dave rubbed it gently. “My mother used to do this to me whenever I had a stomach-ache. I think it’s more psychological, but it may help. However, you also have a temperature and a cough, so I’m sending you back to the hotel. No arguing.”

Hotch shook his head. “I wasn’t about to.”

“Oh, I have a bottle of water for you as well,” he said, belatedly handing it to him.

Hotch smiled and took a few cautious sips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. Are you good to stand?”

Aaron nodded, and although he was a bit shaky, Dave trusted that he would make it back to the hotel. Still, he knew what the ache in his chest was, and he wasn’t going to shy away from it anymore. If he did, Hotch wouldn’t go home safely to the girl he loved. And who Dave was beginning to see in a new light, now that other things had clicked.

Roughly ten years later, Spencer Reid was sick at his first crime scene. But when Aaron Hotchner went to help him the same way David Rossi had helped him, he saw Jason Gideon comforting the young agent- still so young that Hotch couldn’t help but view him as a kid.

Bile started to rise in his throat. He didn’t want to be bitter. It wasn’t fair to Reid because it wasn’t his fault. But he missed Dave. He missed having someone to talk to, someone to cry to, someone to be a little more vulnerable with. He missed Dave, and he was starting to realise that Jason Gideon would always love Spencer Reid more than him.

And he would always love the two of them more than they knew.

[hollandroos]

Build Me Up (Buttercup)

My imagines ❀ My series 

Summary: Tom receives a knock at his door at half-past one am from his bruised and bloodied best friend. 

Prompts; “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?” (This was requested as a blurb but I got carried away)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of physical fights, blood and drinking 

                                 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tom hardly seemed to sleep as of late. He was always typing emails to someone, working on one project or another or chasing after one of his friends. He didn’t seem to mind – especially when it came to seeing to his friends. If they needed him, he was there.

All he needed was coffee and a nap the next day. 

But he didn’t expect the shrill ringing of his front door to flood the apartment at one twenty-six am. At first, he ignored it. Thinking it was a prank from neighbouring teens he shoves the nearest pillow over his head right after glancing at his phone only to see a few texts from Harrison and a game request from one of his brothers. 

But when it rings for the third time he hauls himself out from beneath the sheets, groaning as the cold autumn air hits his bare chest. A shiver runs down the brunette's spine – one that makes him want to climb back into bed but Tessa had already rolled onto his spot, taking place where he once lay. He trusts that she’d shield the warmth until he got back from – most likely – warning off angsty teens at half-past one am.

Tom had to get to ‘em before Mary Jane across the street did with her bat.

Sighing, he pads out to the front door nearly tripping over clothes that long-needed washing and dog toys that he swears Tess lay in the hallway. Tom was totally one to curse but cricky – something about stepping on a chew toy in the dark makes him have to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. This prevents him from yelling out a string of curses that’d make the neighbours hide their 6-year-old boy from Tom for the remainder of their lease. 

Right outside the door, facing the bitter seasonal air stands you. 

You slip your lip between your teeth right before tasting the crimson blood on your tongue. it’s gross - the taste reminds you of when you were in fourth grade and tripped and fell on your face. And when you had that dental operation in sixth. 

You release it, screwing your face up instantly in disgust. By now the blood had probably stained the area around your mouth and beneath your nose, the bruising had probably painted your torso shades of purple and blue. Surely you looked a right mess, without a doubt. And you were tired too – so tired that you could sleep on the patio with Toms glass garden gnomes and the hedgehogs that visited every now and then.

You were cold too, the tips of your fingers numb and toes painfully so in your party heels. The dress you were wearing hardly did anything. You didn’t even have a coat. 

Tom opens the door a crack, opening it fully when he sees you standing there but through that crack, one merely a few inches he doesn't see the extent of your injuries… or any of them. It’s not until the door is fully open that he feels his chest ache and questions begin to plague his mind.

“Holy shit– what…” Tom eyes you up and down, mouth falling open in shock and his knuckles tighten around the front door. Surely it’d splinter, that's how hard he was gripping it. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, wincing when the pain hits. “No.”

In any other situation you would’ve pointed out that he was damn near naked and if it wasn’t so dark out then little Mary Jane next door, the elderly who was always out doing her lawn would’ve been scarred. But in any other situation, you wouldn’t be standing on his doorstep drunk and pained. 

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” Tom says it a little more aggressively then he means too, with an almost hoarse tone. But he feels all traces of still being tired – whatever was left, slowly float away. That exhaustion turns into and in fact– fuels his anger. 

You look broken, both physically and mentally and hardly able to even hold yourself up and with that realisation, he steps aside to let you hobble in. You hold yourself up with little energy, leaning against the wall to stop yourself from tumbling. Feeling as weak as you look, you want to ask for a glass of water or a blanket but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of words recalling the last hour. 

“I was at that bar down the street and I got in a fight with this girl who thought that I was flirting with her boyfriend but really I was just asking him if I could borrow his phone because I lost my own and I still might be a little drunk–”

“Did you drive here?” Tom interrupts, checking if you were still holding your car keys. He doesn’t see any - and he doubts that even drunk you’d do something that stupid. But still, he has to check. 

You shake your head, strands of hair sticking to your bloodied face. “No– no, of course not. I walked–”

“You walked?! Y/N, It’s like one am what the fuck?” Tom throws his arms over his head, raising his voice to the distaste of his poor neighbours. Tom hated the thought of you walking down the streets of London by yourself, drunk and cold. without a phone nor a companion. He would’ve walked you home in sweats and slippers if it meant you weren’t alone.

It leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. One that hadn’t seemed to leave since the very second he saw your broken form. It only escalated when you told him the story. Tom swears that if the feeling gets any worse he’ll quite literally throw up – hopefully on the patio and not the new, four hundred dollar rug in the middle of the living room. 

“Relax, I’m okay. Besides, I think after tonight I’ve learnt that I throw a pretty mean punch.” You try your best to smile, wincing as you pull on the cut on your lip. “If you think this is bad you should’ve seen her.”

It’s a lie. You’re in way worse shape then the other girl but don’t say that out loud. At least not tonight. Usually, Tom would’ve been able to see right through your lies – after many years of friendship that was compulsory but not tonight. Maybe it was the alcohol that allowed you to lie to him so easily. Maybe your best friend was just more concerned with the bruises that littered icy skin to notice the tale tail signs of you slipping in a little dishonest information. 

Tom rests a hand on your cheek, assessing the bruises. “Your eye is bruising pretty badly and your lip is split.”

“You should see my ribs.” You snort, words still a little bit slurred. 

With wide eyes and a heart that skips not one– but possibly Tom beats, your tired best friend lets out an exasperated gasp.“What!”

“Relax, it’s not that bad.”  

By morning, you’d regret the shots you took one after the other and dancing on tables like no one was watching (in reality… everyone was watching) and you’d probably regret causing your poor best friend enough stress to give him a heart attack. Silently, you’d regret trying to fight back with the drunk girl and you’d regret not taking up the bartenders offer of a couple of bags of ice and a free bottle of water to compensate. 

“Just a little… a little bit sore.” You tell Tom swallowing the blood that stains your teeth with a queasy expression. 

With that, you tug the underside of your dress up. It wasn’t anything Tom hadn’t seen before - not the injuries. You. Your body. Besides, it wasn’t hard to focus when bruises were blossoming on your torso. Appearing like daisies in spring.

“Fucking shit–”

You gasp at your friend's curses, blurting out a strong; “Language!”

“You need to go to the ER,” Tom tells you, wondering just how long you’d be able to stand on your feet for. The heels couldn’t be too comfortable.

You had long forgotten about the blisters that up until just recently, had been the causes of your wincing and whining. 

Pressing a firm finger to the boy's chest, you prepare your next statement. Keep in mind that it’s early in the am’s. The moon illuminates the city instead of the familiar glow of the sun and everyone else was curled up in their beds, shielded by layers of cotton blankets and pets that guard the doors – asleep themselves. All except Tessa. 

Yawning, you allow your eyes to flutter open and shut. Sleep sounded nice. It sounded marvellous. Sleeping next to Tom, entangled in a shirt of the boys and the familiar scent that had intertwined itself with his pillow sounded perfect.

“You need to let me sleep first.”

“Sleep after I’ve taken you to the ER.” Tom eyes you up and down, noticing the goosebumps that decorate your arms and the fact that your lips already looked a little discoloured – and not from the blood and bruises that paint your expression. “You can borrow some of my clothes so you don’t get cold. And maybe have a glass of water or two and a protein bar first.”

A pout replaces the purse that once adorned your features. “But sleep–”

“But you need to go the ER, I’m not letting you sleep when you may have a concussion and I’m most definitely not letting you go into work tomorrow.” Taking your hand carefully, Tom tangles your fingers together. It was a little thing the two of you did whenever one of you was nervous or hurt – a kind of ‘I’m here and I’m not leaving’ thing. 

Tom sighs, noticing your face fall from what looked like a combination of exhaustion and slight disappointment. He didn’t want to disappoint you – he wants you to be safe. Fully aware of the alcohol making you a little more receptive to your current overwhelming abundance of emotions, Tom shakes his head.

“Now buttercup, go sit on the couch and I’ll grab you and me some clothes and some food. We could be there for a while.”

Tell me what you thought! + My writing ♡

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[ayanna-wild]

Memories For Sale

Word Count: 1638

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, possible trigger, reader is a prostitute in this if that bothers you or triggers you please do not read.

A/N: Request from someone on Wattpad

Summary: You did what you could to get by, trusted no one, and tried to ignore the spotty holes in your memory. But then this man shows up, and everything you thought you remembered or thought you knew was so very wrong.

............................................................

You leaned back against the stone wall behind you. The rough texture of the bricks bit at your skin, but you ignored that. You need a short break, your feet were hurting from standing on them for so long. The heels you wore only made it worse and the short dress you had slipped on did little to protect your back from the bricks. It was apparently a dead night, probably due to the storm hovering above the city. The clouds had yet to release their downpour but it probably wouldn't be long.

Unfortunately though that meant business would be slow tonight and you'd have to work even longer the next night to make up for it. You took a slow drag from the cigarette between your fingers, flicking the ash onto the pavement below you. With a heavy sigh you pushed yourself off the wall, and turned to start walking home. Well at least to that shabby apartment you called home.

"Y/N?"

You paused, turning your head to look over your shoulder.

"Yeah?"

The man simply stood there staring at you with a mixture of emotions. He was an attractive man, with black hair and deep brown eyes. The suit he was wearing, what looked to be very expensive and normally you'd have tried to warm up to after seeing that. However, you were tired, you were annoyed, and you just wanted to go home.

"Don't you recognize me love?" The man asked frowning.

You turned to face him fully and slowly looked him over from head to toe before shrugging.

"Sorry, I can't be expected to remember every man I... service..."

His whole attitude changed after hearing that. He looked shocked, angry, and heartbroken? That one confused you, why did he look so distraught about that?

"Listen it's been a long and uneventful night, I'm currently off the clock, but try again tomorrow night, I'll give you a discount or something."

You tried to walk away, but he grabbed your elbow.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?"

His grip wasn't tight or aggressive like the other times you had been grabbed. When you tried to pull your arm free he let go immediately, another thing you weren't use to.

"Should I?"

The man smiled sadly for a moment and you felt a dull ache in your chest at seeing him sad.

"I suppose not, my name is Lucifer Morningstar, and I know you very well my dear."

You searched his eyes for a moment but saw nothing that said he was lying.

"That's nice, but I really should be getting home."

You took a cautious step back, an uneasy feeling lingered in the air.

"Wait, just let me explain."

He must have sensed your unease and became a bit desperate.

"Listen Lucifer, was it? I'm tired and it's about to storm, I'm done for the night, if you go two streets over you can find some other girls who will definitely jump at the chance to have you as a costumer."

He looked almost offended at that and scoffed.

"Do I look like I would need to pay for sex?"

You rolled your eyes and stared to walk away at a faster pace than normal.

"I'll pay you for your time!"

You walked faster.

"Five Hundred for one hour!"

You almost tripped on your heels with how fast you stopped.

"Are you serious? Just to talk?"

"I'll add another five hundred for every hour you are there."

Your common sense screamed at you that something wasn't right but your mind told you to take the pay day.

"Fine, one hour, and add six hundred for every extra half hour."

Lucifer smiled, holding out his hand to you.

"Deal."

You shook his hand, letting out a small yelp when he started pulling you in the direction of a sleek black Corvette.

~

The ride had been filled with silence which you suspected was not a normal thing for him. When you had reached the club he owned and made it up to his penthouse, you felt a little dumb not asking for more money.

"Would you like a drink my dear?"

You shook your head and watched him pour one for himself.

"Ok, start talking."

He chuckled as he raised the glass to his lips.

"Straight to the point as usual at least you haven't changed too much darling."

"You say that as if you know me."

"Oh I do! Very well, you are my wife after all."

You had no words, how were you even supposed to respond to that? The man was clearly insane.

"Right... well this was fun, but I think I should go, you can keep the money and-"

Lucifer stepped in front of you, preventing you from reaching the elevator.

"You don't believe me? Surely you've wondered about your past? The lapse in memories you have?"

You started walking backwards, trying to put distance between them.

"I was in an accident, I... I got amnesia!"

It sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than him.

"Is that what you were told? How did it happen?"

Your head was hurting, it was a dull ache, but it was growing.

"I was hit by car trying to cross the street..."

"Really? And you walked away with just a few scratches and missing memories? Sounds a bit too good to be true." He raised an eyebrow.

"Well I got lucky I guess."

Your back hit the piano and the ache in your head turned into a pounding.

"Luck? Oh, no darling there was nothing lucky about that Uriel took you, he made sure the accident wasn't fatal, and he made sure you wouldn't remember anything."

Everything grew blurry and you were faintly aware of Lucifer calling your name as your legs gave out. Your head was swimming, and your body felt so heavy. You couldn't make out what was being said to or even what you were saying.

Lucifer sat you on the couch, and waited patiently for you regain your senses. You slowly blinked, fingers rubbing your temple in a poor attempt to relieve the pain in your head.

"Darling are you alright?"

You pulled away from him slightly.

"Yes. I'm fine."

Lucifer stepped away, seeing the distrust in your eyes.

"Can you tell me what you remember?"

You searched your memories for anything of significance and looked back at him apprehensively.

"Ash, a lot of brimstone, there was a lot of doors, I remember you were there, but its all blurry, and none of it makes sense, it's just flashes of memories, I can't remember them." You muttered.

Lucifer smiled a little and reached out to you. He pulled his hand back when he saw you flinch away.

"Why did you do this to yourself? You are priceless to me, why would you sell yourself?"

You pulled your knees to your chest and shrugged.

"It was a last resort, I needed food, money, I didn't have anyone."

"But surely you must have had other options?"

"Most guys don't question my career choice you know." You joked weakly.

He didn't seem to find it very funny.

"Pardon my bluntness, but those men were only interested in you for sex, and unlike them I care very deeply about you."

You felt the overwhelming urge to cry, and you didn't know why. You suddenly felt so ashamed to be sitting in front of him looking like this.

"Y/N? Why are you crying?"

"It's stupid I know. I don't even know you and I just feel so ashamed to let you see me like this." You laughed, but tears were staining your cheeks.

Lucifer sat beside you pulling you into his arms.

"Oh my beautiful queen, you've nothing to feel ashamed for. I don't think any less of you and I'm not angry."

You pulled out of his arms, having a man hold you like that, comfort you, it wasn't how you were used to men treating you. Lucifer looked hurt for a moment before he cleared his throat.

"Why don't you take a shower, you can stay the night and I'll have Maze bring you some shorts to sleep in, you can wear one of my shirts."

You nodded slowly and Lucifer directed you in the direction of the shower.

~

You stayed in the shower for nearly an hour, crying and hoping the steaming water would wash away the shame you were feeling. When you finally stepped out you saw clothes sitting on the sink. It was just a large t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts with some underwear. You walked back out into the living room once you were dressed.

"Do I play or is it just you?"

Lucifer looked up from where he sat at the piano. He smiled at you and moved over so you could sit beside him.

"No, you much preferred drawing to playing an instrument. And Dad knows attempting to teach you was a disaster." Lucifer chuckled.

You smiled, softly running your fingers over the keys, droplets of water fell from your hair onto your lap. Lucifer watched you for a moment.

"I'd like if you stayed with me for a while my dear. Perhaps I could help you regain your memory or at the very least give you a place to sleep. Where you wouldn't need to sell your body to strange men. More to the point, I've been trying to find you for a very long time, and I couldn't bear to lose you now."

You meant his eyes, studying him as if searching for any ill intent or alternative motive he might have. You found none and so you smiled, the first real smile you had given in such a long time.

"I'd love to stay with you Lucifer."

.........................................................................

Tag List: @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @adira-secrets @beththedemonhunter @shywriting @emiwrites3reads @gingernarwal @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @sallyp-53 @officalfangirl @cptgryps @mizzezm

[michael-langdon-baby]

Crave

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Original Character

Word count: 4k~

Warnings: ALOT, alpha/omega dynamics, knotting, mating, possessive michael langdon, tit play, smutty goodness ya’ll

Masterlist

Enjoy!

You would think that a shelter with enough supplies to last well over 18 months would have stocked up on mounds upon mounds of suppressants. It would be only logical to assume that whoever was in charge of the Outposts would know that there would be at least one Omega of the bunch.

But it seemed the Cooperative was full of a bunch of Alpha knot heads that didn’t think suppressants were of value; but there must have been one Omega in the meeting room, seeing as there were exactly 18 months of supply.

Which is exactly how Julie March found herself here, sitting in her ugly purple dress with her old timey spanx like panties covered in slick. She was entering her first heat since 9th grade; Billy Carlisle had cornered her in the girl’s bathroom and begged to smell her panties before the coach had come and thrown him out.

She could barely remember what it was like to have a heat, only the flushes of warmth and pain wrung through her mind, but they weren’t precise. It was like relearning a language that had become foreign, except she’d give anything to not have to relearn this.

Her thighs squeezed together as she tried to force the slick back inside but it was useless, she was probably stinking up the Outpost. And it was 6:26, which meant a drink in the parlor room was fast approaching. But last night there had been a perimeter breach, so she expected someone new would be joining them. Hopefully it was a Beta.

A knock at the door had her standing, “I’m coming.” And smoothing down the wrinkles in her dress; even is she smelt like a whorehouse, she would look damn good.

The Grey at the door smiled at her first, eyes widening at her smell before shooting to the floor, noticeable bulge forming in his pants. But she smiled and ignored it, quickly following behind his fast pace steps. Her wet thighs rubbed against each other with each step, even feeling it slide down her leg.

It was mortifying, walking into the parlor and having all eyes on her. Almost all were Beta’s and weren’t affected by her stench, but they could sure as hell smell it.

“Oh-kay, I don’t wanna be rude-“

“I don’t think that’s in your nature.” Andre interjected with an eye roll and Coco fake laughed before turning back to Julie.

“Oh grow a heart Coco, poor thing must be in so much pain.” Julie nodded at Gallant’s claim, smiling at his effort to be kind to her.

“You do know that you smell like a brothel right? Those fumes could deflate my hair.” Evie chuckled at the insult before sipping her mineral water, the rest of the group going back to their own business.

At least until Ms. Venable’s cane echoed through the room, everyone effectively shutting up when she entered. She stood at the head of the room, not even acknowledging the stink of Omega that permeated the room, which made Julie furrow her sweaty brow.

Everyone knew Venable was an Alpha through and through, yet she seemed unaffected by the heat that was so close to her. It was very strange but Julie threw that thought to the back of her mind as a pair of precise yet ominous footsteps lingered in the air, and with it a scent that made her pussy even wetter.

This must have been the person who cause breached the perimeter; she hoped it wasn’t someone who’d been affected by the radiation or anything.

A bead of sweat skimmed down the side of her skull as the footsteps grew closer, precise in step and sound. She watched Venable with a hazy gaze, wishing she were back in her room with her dress back in the closet and something filling her up.

The footsteps stopped and she felt a new pair of eyes watching her, burning holes into her side with a look so intense her heart dropped to her stomach. She was frozen, unable to turn and look.

It was nearly impossible to breath a breathe of fresh air as those footsteps came behind the couch, a soft hand sliding along the back of her neck, then gone again. Her knee shook with a pressure of want in her core that was unfulfilled, and she wanted to explode.

Julie was able to turn her head enough to gaze at Venable and the tall man who made her want to fall to her knees and present her dripping wet pussy, allowing him to either drink his fill or stuff her full of his cock.

He stood where Venable had before, watching them all, “My name is Langdon and I represent the Cooperative.” He took a deep inhale and cleared his throat. “I wont sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

Julie watched Langdon and he reused to meet her eye, “My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth. The other three compounds—an all Alpha compound in Syracuse, New York, an all Beta in Beckley, West Virginia, and-“

This time he met Julie’s eyes, “And all Omega in San Angelo, Texas have all been overrun and destroyed.” He looked away as Timothy asked, “And the people inside?”

Langdon gave him a stony look, “Amongst other things, massacred. And I’m shocked to see that the only compound housing all three forms of life hasn’t torn each other to shreds. But I will say that the same fate will befall almost all of you.”

Mallory piped up in a meek voice, “Almost?” to which Langdon let out a small laugh. “In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe—the sanctuary.”

Coco couldn’t have looked more confused when she said aloud, “The Sanctuary?”

To which Langdon responded, “The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun. And amongst other things, a way from three forms of life to happily coexist, Alpha, Beta, Omega, all as one.” His hands met before him, fingertips touching in perfect sync.

But Ms. Mead cut in “What measures? Why weren’t we given these?” And Langdon’s perfect hands split and one hand lifted to his right, displaying those lovely rings. “That’s classified.”

“All that matters is that the Sanctuary will… survive, so the people populating it will survive so humanity will survive.”

Andre asked what they were all thinking, “Who are the people populating it?” but Langdon merely said, “Also classified.”

Langdon’s eyes drifted to the Omega in the room and he smiled, “However, I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique called ‘Cooperating’.

Julie was drifting in and out as he explained how he would decide who went with him, and who stayed. Emily placed her hand on the drowsy Omega’s knee, immediately retracting when Langdon shot her a dark look.

“What is this, The Hunger Games? I paid my way in here and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing. And if you think I’m stupid enough to believe that you’re gonna take a single Beta with you and leave the horny Omega then you must think I’m dumb as a bag of rocks.”

Langdon smirked at the outburst, “As if your knowledge could be compared to that of Mother Earth's gifts. I daresay a bag of rocks has a higher chance of joining the Sanctuary than you do.” Gallant held her back from leaping at Langdon and tearing his pretty locks out.

He pulled out a vial from his pocket a displayed it, like a teacher among students, “But fret not, if you feel as though you are too good or just not good enough, then when feral cannibals come knocking, just down one of these. A minute later you will fall asleep and never wake up.”

He took one step closer, breathing so deeply his lungs hurt, “I look forward to meeting each and ever one of you.”

He sauntered out of the room, brushing his hand across the Omega’s back, rubbing her sweat between his fingers, waiting until he was out of sight to taste it on his tongue. She tasted like heaven, the unattainable for a sinner such as himself, but oh—he would have her. Tonight.

“Emily, help her to her room. Make sure she stays there.” Emily nodded at Venable’s command and cringed when she helped Julie up, the heat her body was giving off was that akin to a burner on high.

It was a treacherous few minutes, Julie trying her best to coordinate herself with Emily’s help, eventually shooing the girl away when needing to take off her dress. Julie worked like a madwoman when the door clicked shut, slippery fingers reaching back to unzip her dress, toeing off the pointed shoes sliding down the spanx like covering, standing just a bra and underwear.

There were no locks on the door, so nudity was off the table for now. Her body flung itself on the bed, relishing in the feel of the cool sheets against her warm skin. It like ice against fire and it never needed to stop.

Two knocks at the door had her stopping; eagerly pulling the covers over herself, weakly telling whomever it was to come in.

It as Venable wearing a smirk on her face with a bottle of pills in her hand- she knew exactly what those were. Her legs tangled in the sheets as she tried to rise, wanting to kiss Venable for bringing her suppressants. “Are those for me? Please Ms. Venable, I thought we’d run out.”

Her attempt came to a halt when Venable chuckled and pocketed the pills, “Oh we have run out—for you at least.” Julie was confused and Venable walked a little closer with a smirk, “The Cooperative supplied us with 36 months of suppressants, and you’ve gone and wasted half. But then again, no one ever told you that cutting them in half with a little bit of this and that made them more effective and gave you twice as much.”

“You-you-“ oh my god. Venable’s an omega.

“You’re an omega-“ the words became a screech as the older omega’s hand slapped her so hard she flew off the bed and collapsed on the ground, a trickle of blood leaving her nose and staining her teeth. Venable looked down on her with a cruel sneer.

“Look at you. Pathetic. Weak. Omega.” She pressed the base of the cane against Julie’s throat, “If you tell a soul, I’ll drag your body, kicking and screaming, outside and let the cannibals have you. Understood?”

Julie felt tears creep into her eyes but nodded as Venable moved the cane away, “But I have a feeling you won’t survive the night. With an Alpha like Langdon here, your weak body will crave for him in a way so desperate that the heat will consume you.”

She walked to the door, “I look forward to taking your cold dead corpse outside.” The door shut with a slam.

It took Julie more than ten minutes to stand on shaky legs, wetness sliding down her thighs like a waterfall. As much as she wanted to think it wasn’t true, it was fact that Omega’s died from Heat Stroke all the time, and unless Langdon somehow wanted her… this was her last night in Outpost 3.

It was a miracle that she made it on her bed, that her jerky breathing and stuttered movements allowed her to do nothing but curl up n a ball and cry. It would hurt to feel the heart beat so fast it felt as though the chest would erupt.

She wanted so bad to be filled, to be held, to be kissed by sweet lips that only craved hers for now and always. But humanity as they knew it was gone; for all she knew, there were no more Alpha’s out there. There was only Langdon.

It was hard to know when she fell asleep, but her eyes fluttered at the feeling of hands lifting her from the cold bed. They were gentle and soft, moving her like gentle doll, placing her against a chest that was warm, almost as warm as her own body, but the sweet scent that surrounded her made it all the better than any cold bed.

“Wha-“ Her words drifted off into a murmur when a soft kiss graced her forehead, lulling her back into a dreamless sleep.

~

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was that, well, she wasn’t dead- in fact, she’d survived the night. There was never any way to tell how many how many hours had passed; yes there were clocks but with no sunlight from outside or moon shine from night, the body had no way of knowing if days had passed or not.

Julie stretched, wiggling her toes and lifting her arms above her head, small noises echoing through the room. The covers fell down, bare breasts becoming an eyesore to the empty room.

“I wasn’t expecting such a show but I can’t say I’m complaining.” A terror filled screech left her mouth when Langdon’s voice echoed to her left, turning with fear to watch the man who sat at his desk, laptop open with light shining on his face.

But those deep cerulean eyes weren’t focused on the screen, but instead were watching her supple breasts, smiling when her hands scrambled to cover them.

Her mind and body were at ends; Her mind telling her to flee away from the Alpha that had, upon further inspection, taken her from he room and brought her to his own abode. Her body on the other hand, wanted him to force her to present for him, have him take from her all she had.

Langdon shut the laptop and leaned back in his swirly chair, “I haven’t smelt an Omega like you before. Even before the Armageddon, none of them held a candle.”

He stood and took graceful steps closer to her form on the bed; “I’d assume at first that you and that Stevens witch were using your body to ensnare me in a trap. But I would be able to smell out that stupid voodoo nonsense. No… you’re just at it seems; a pure little thing, desperate to be split open on the nearest knot.”

She completely ignored the part about voodoo magic and Dinah Stevens, promising herself she’d bring it up later, and instead asked, “Is that why you brought me here?”

He was closer now and his scent was making him soak his sheets, “Well, that depends.” And she inquired, “On?”

Langdon towered over her, watching her begin to squirm, “On whether or not you want this, and if you do, if you can be a good girl for me.” His ringed hand reached forward and ran along the pudge of her cheek, “I’ve waited a long time for you Julie March, and I intend to have you.”

It happened so fast; one moment he was caressing her cheek and the next he was looming over her, knees on either side as his hair fell around them like a curtain, hiding them from the world. His scent was making her dizzy but she wanted more.

“I don’t even know you Langdon.” He leaned down like a pup and nosed her cheek, “You will.” His nose found the curve of her brow and sniffed against her forehead and murmured “And please, call me Michael.”

He kissed her with an urgency that had her seeing stars, clammy fingers grasping his black silky clothes to pull him closer, wanting to feel him in every pore of her body. Those jeweled hands roughly gripped her bare skin, harshly sliding down to her nipples and giving a strong tug.

Julie let out a sweet cry that had him smirking and mouthing at the crease of her neck, “You’re perfect sweetheart.” Those fingers tugged even harder, wanting her to scream for him. He wanted the whole Outpost to know that this Omega, that Julie was his.

When her beautiful brown eyes filled with water did he show mercy on the dusty nipples, moving down and taking one into the warm cavern of his mouth, sucking with strength that had her arching her back. His hands wound under her back and lifted her up, wanting to feel her even closer but he needed to get rid of his clothes first.

They were gone with a snap of his fingers and her eyes widened in shock; what kind of wizard was this guy. And as if he could read her thought he released her tit with a ‘pop’ and smirked, “At a time like this I was hoping to turn your brain to mush but instead you call me a wizard. How very Julie of you.”

Michael finally pulled her forward and met her lips in the middle, tasting the sweet Omega that would finally be his. Her mouth was a heaven he would never see and he wanted to have it always. She gave him control, wanting him to have all the control.

He smirked into the kiss when she started to buck her hips into him; wanting his cock to stuff her so full she felt it for days. But he was a cruel Alpha; “I’m not going to fuck you Julie, not until I’ve had a taste.”

A shocked squeak echoed when he at up and tore the covers off the bed, leaving her bare to his eyes, his cock growing harder by the second. Her shy nature caused her to try and cover up her fuzzy skinned pussy, but a deep growl from Michael stopped her. Those rings were cold as they drifted across the peach fuzz of her thick thighs, thumb running over her slit and making her moan.

After effectively coating his fingers in her fresh slick, he brought them up to his mouth, moaning at the slightly sweet taste. “Oh my Jewel, you are divine.” He slithered like a snake down her body, lips resting at her pussy.

It was one long swipe of his entire tongue that had her screeching like a cat, his strong hands gripping her thighs and holding her down as so he could feast with ease. It was akin to the fountain of youth, or that of a drink of the Gods; she tasted of perfection.

Julie’s nails tore into the sheets, internal muscles trying to grip onto him but failed again and again. He was sucking her dry; those pink lips covered in her juices, some of it spilling down his chin. She was breathing deeply when she looked down her body at him, those blue eyes meeting hers as he moved to nibbled on her clit, loving the moan he received in return.

He was evil- his mouth moved between her throbbing clit and sopping hole, not knowing which one was better. The heat of her skin was burning her alive, and she needed to be fucked. Now.

It took a moment for her to lift one of her hands and place into on Michael’s blonde head of locks, smiling when he moved away from her pussy and sat up, bare chest on display as his hands stroke her trembling thighs.

“Is there something wrong, my pet? Something you need?” He shook his head at her needy moans, “Oh no, no my sweet.” One of those sweet hands reached for her warm throat and lightly squeezed, “I want to tell me what you want.”

A look between desperation and pain crossed her face, biting her lip until warm rivulets of blood trailed down her chin, moaning when Michael surged forward to lick it up. “Please Michael, please, please.”

He chuckled, “Please what?” The fingers on her throat tightened just a smidge. “Be specific.”

She let out a high-pitched whine that made him even harder- if being harder was even possible, “F-Fuck me please please knot me please please Michael.” He cooed at her desperate plea, kissing away the shy tears that slid down the side of her skull. His poor omega needed his cock so much it was hurting her.

While foreplay was always fun and all, the smell of her heat was causing a desire to knot, to mate, to breed, and who was he to deny himself of anything? Especially when he had his Queen spread before him; he would have all of her.

It was a mere matter of positioning himself over her- he wanted to look into her eyes as he fucked and mated her, maybe even pupped her- and lining himself up with her slippery entrance. He rubbed his cockhead through her folds, “My needy little Jewel.” It was a deep thrust that had him fully inside her, wincing at the pain she showed in her yelp; he may have liked to cause pain to some people, but never his Julie.

He shushed her and kissed her wet cheeks, trying not to start his thrusts before she was comfortable and fully stretched from his cock. Their deep breaths echoed through the room, the only sound amongst the crackling fire. He wished he could kiss away her pain.

Julie felt the burning pain slowly morph into pleasure that wracked her lower half in a way she’d never know. Masturbating wasn’t really her thing, and dating was hard when Alpha’s liked Omega’s who were either forward or wore short skirts, Julie was neither. But here, during the goddam Apocalypse, she’d found a mate in a mysterious man she barely knew with his cock in her virgin hole; how sweet it is.

He smiled at her when she murmured ‘move’ and set a pace that shook the bed against the wall. Michael felt only pleasure in this moment; no pain for memories of Ms. Mead, no hatred for Cordelia Foxx- there was just he and Julie.

It was a short fuck; He felt her squeeze around his cock and let her bite his neck, marking him as her mate. And when he felt his knot swell, he simply turned her head to the side and exposed the expanse of her neck, sinking his teeth in and feeling the bond form.

It was a feeling neither thought they would ever experience, but it was real and true and forever. Michael would hold onto her for the rest of his immortal life and he would summon his father in the pits of the hell that was Outpost 3 and ask for her immortality. He would not take no for an answer.

Julie was in bliss; the heat was subsiding and the knot currently pumping cum in her- which would no doubt end in a pregnancy that she was nowhere near ready for- made all her worries fade. She took a moment to watch Michael, who in turn watched her.

“Have I met you before? Somewhere up there…” Her lazy hand waved to the ceiling, not knowing if she meant above the ground and into the world or in the stars and heaven above. It was something inside her that made her trust him.

Michael carefully leaned forward- watchful of his knot- and brought the fingers to his mouth to kiss. “My jewel, no matter where we are, or were we go, you’ll always be mine.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “And I’ll always be yours.”

Hope you Enjoyed!

[amazingmsme]

Preventing Apotheosis Part 4

AN: As I said, a new chapter to celebrate Black Friday! Hope you’ve all enjoyed the series so far, I know I have! Just so you know, it’s really gonna pick up after this chapter. Lots of action & good shit that I can’t wait for you guys to read! 

John took out his comm and started talking to his boss, stepping out of the room. After hunting down the two infected girls and shooting them, Curt went back to the room where their hostages were tied to chairs so that their forms wouldn't slump over. He waited anxiously for John to end the call, and his head whipped toward the door when he heard the knob turn. The General walked in with a stern look on his face that Curt matched.

"You'll be pleased to hear that we won't have to kill them so long as they swear to never utter a word of this incident to anyone. They'll go into the Witness Protection Program to start their new lives and live out their days most likely traumatized."

"Well that's better than the alternative," Curt voiced. It still wasn't ideal, but at least they had the chance to live. 

"We need them to wake up, you got anything that could help with that?" John asked. Curt rapped his chin in thought, "Let's see, I'm only one of the world's greatest spies, and I interrogate people on a daily basis, of course I do. Here,"  he quipped, pulling some smelling salts out of his pocket. He shoved him out out of the way and knelt in front of them. He snapped the small packet and waved it under their noses. Both men shot up with a gasp, frantically looking around. Bill's eyes locked on McNamera and he tried to lunge forward. Thankfully the restraints held firm.

"You killed Alice! You took her away! She was only a child!" Tears welled up in his eyes, "She was too young to die!"

"Bill, your name is Bill right?" McNamera didn't wait for an answer before he continued, "That thing wasn't your daughter. She was an empty husk of a human, one of those singing alien freaks. She was about to kill you; one more second and she would've pulled the trigger an' you'd be dead on the ground."

Bill shook his head, "No, no she was still in there!" His friend in the chair turned to him, "No Bill, she wasn't. I mean, you saw the way her eyes were glowing. And they were blue, her eyes were never blue!" John took a step forward and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away. "I'm truly sorry for your loss, but there was no other way. At least we were able to find the two of you alive." Curt found it funny how he didn't tell them how he was going to kill them only a few minutes before. John turned to the taller man in the chair, "What's your name, son?"

"Uh, Paul, sir," he said. His eyes were full of panic. He probably thought they were gonna kill them.

"Nice to meet you Paul, you too Bill, my name's General John McNamera, I'm with a special devision known as P-E-I-P we call it "Peep.""

"P.E.I.P.? I've never heard of you," Paul said. John yanked his cigarette from his mouth.

"And you never will. Not a peep. We've dealt with things like this before."

"You mean things like this have happened before?" Paul asked with worry.

"I said nothing of the sort that information is classified. This is my associate-"

"I can introduce myself," Curt cut him off and pulled out his badge. "Agent Curt Mega, C.I.A."

"We were sent here to do a clean sweep of the island, and make sure word of this doesn't spread." As he spoke he untied the men.

"Wait- are you gonna kill us too?" Bill asked in a panic. John was quick to reassure.

"Those were my orders, yes, but I talked to my superiors and they're allowing an exception. There's gonna be two choppers coming to pick us up at 23 hundred hours. That's 11:00 if you're stupid, synchronize your time piece with mine." Paul pulled out his phone to set an alarm. "Is that a phone?"

"Yeah it's a 6s-" John grabbed the phone from his hand and threw it, making it shatter on impact. "Wear a watch!"

"Jesus John, the hell's your problem?" Curt asked and pulled out a spare phone from his bag. "Here, perks of being a spy."

"Th-thanks," Paul stuttered and gingerly took it. He eyed the General carefully before fiddling with it. He pressed the home button twice, three times before going to turn off the phone only for it to spark to life with a taser. He screamed and threw it away from him.

"Shit, I gave you the wrong one! Unless you want the taser phone.  It still functions as a regular phone but if you press the home button three times followed by the power button it'll activate the taser. Guess I should've warned you..."

Paul gulped, "That would've been nice."

"The offer still stands. Like Barb says, "It just might save your life." So?"

Paul shrugged and took the offered phone/weapon. "Why not? Today can't get anymore fucked up," he sighed. "C'mon Bill, lets go get the others."

Curt held out his hand, signaling them to stop. "Wait, how many of you are there?" He glanced at John, and they both shared a look. The helicopters could only hold so many.

"There's five of us sir."

"It'll be a tight fit, but we can manage," he shrugged. John nodded.

"Just make sure your little party doesn't grow," he narrowed his eyes into slits. Paul shook his head.

"I don't think we could even if we wanted to. I'm pretty sure we're the only ones left."

"Good. Keep on your toes, and try to stay alive 'til 11:00." Paul pressed his lips into a thin line, "Will do."

Suddenly, McNamera raised his pistol, startling both of the men.

"Wha-?"

In one swift movement, he flipped the gun around with practiced ease, holding the barrel. The handle was extended towards Paul. "I'm authorizing to use my firearm," he clarified. They visibly relaxed.

"Thank you sir."

"Maybe when this is all said and done, we can meet up somewhere and talk," Curt suggested. "Catch up on how you're doing."

They both nodded.

"Sure."

"That sounds nice."

"Do you gentlemen like coffee?" John asked. Both men nodded. "Do you like musicals?"

They answered simultaneously.

"No."

"Yes!"

John scowled at Bill as Curt came up beside him, "You must have good taste." John glared daggers at Curt.

"You're both garbage," he said dryly. Mega scoffed and rolled his eyes. John pointed at Paul, then Bill. "Twenty three hundred sharp. You're not there, we leave without you." He pulled his hat on a little tighter around his head. "I don't wanna be on this God forsaken island longer than needed."

"Me either," Curt agreed, locking eyes with the general and offered a fleeting smile. Call him crazy, but he could've sworn the man returned it.

He saluted the two men as they made their way out. "Best of luck to you."

"Try not to die," Curt offered his own advice before he thought better of it. Before a mission, he and Owen would always say that to the other before diving into the mess they were about to get themselves into. A painful ache shot through his chest at the thought of his old partner. What they had was special, and just like that it had been ripped away. And when given the chance to have it all back, Owen, the stubborn bastard that he was, threw it away, giving him no choice but to shoot.

"Get your damn head out of the clouds agent, we have to move!" McNamera barked at him, sending him crashing back down to reality. He blinked a few times before shooting him a sly and cocky grin.

"Sure thing General," he said, letting a fair amount of sarcasm drip from the use of his title. John sneered at him as he followed him out of the room.

The agent was infuriating, he thought, but damnit to hell if he wasn't starting to grow on him. It didn't help that he was incredibly handsome as well, but he could dream about him once they were safe and off of the island. Until then, nothing was set in stone.

[thechocoboos]

Could you do the chocobros (+Ardyn and Ravus) taking care of their significant other while she's on her period?

These hcs have been sitting in my google docs for a week now--but hey, they’re ready!!! I ended up with eight pages of headcanons so brace yourself lol; wrote these while i was suffering from the very thing i was writing about. what a life.

HC: The Bros + Ardyn and Ravus taking care of their SO on their period!

Noctis

Noct knew that periods existed, he swore that he did, but he just kinda… forgets.

So when he came home to see you dying on your couch, he was just… ??? “Uh, babe? You okay?”

“NO, Noct, I’m not o-fucking-kay--”

“Uh.”

It was only when he called Ignis that he figured out what was going on, with Ignis exasperatedly having to remind Noct that hey, people get periods!

It was a short phonecall, luckily

And it didn’t take Noct too long to get with the program

Softness increases to 110%

Mutual laziness increases to 70%

Caring for his SO increases to 2000%

He does his best--but he also kinda. Just. I dont wanna say it but he doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal until he sees you crying over cramps, then he realizes that periods suck and that you just need your stupid boyfriend to give you the love and support that you deserve

After that, he gets better!!!

“NoCT, can you please go get me my meds? And some water--”

“Can’t you do it yourself--” He always freezes, remembering how bad it can be, “Shit, sorry, babe--” He already started getting up, bringing out a bit of your favorite snack as an apology, “You know I’m an idiot.” He said when he handed you your meds and your fave candy bar

You know, and for whatever reason, you still loved him

He kinda has to learn what to do and what not to do just because he feels too unsure to ask anyone

Unfortunately, it was also through trial and error that he realized how sensitive you can sometimes be when your period is knockin’ at the front door

He found out through multiple crying sessions--and yes, it was usually his fault, but he was always insanely good about making it up to you with food, cuddles, and movie marathons

He’s the boyfriend who goes to the store for tampons and pads for you, sees the giant aisle of them, and while he isn’t embarrassed to be seen buying shit for his SO, he has absolutely no idea what to get and literally grabs the first shit he sees

And of course, you send him right back with a picture of the brand you actually like and a pad in his hand just so he can get it right the second time

Cue the mental image of Noctis comparing the pad in his hand to the color of pad packaging in stores

“They’re both green so it’s gotta be right… right???”

In summary: Noctis is a dumbass and can be a bit insensitive about periods simply because he’s really not around women or anyone who gets periods, but he really does try to remedy his ignorance and any mistakes he makes

Prompto

Prompto, too, has never really had much experience with girls or periods or people with periods and he just. He tries so hard--he really does

He gets you a new teddy bear every single time (at some point, you know you’re gonna have to tell him that he can’t keep buying you new bears, but it’s so cute that you don’t want him to stop)

He’s the one who gets sympathy pain

I promise, the second he catches wind that you’re on your period, he’s out the door trying to find your favorite of everything

If you send him to the store for pads, he comes back with one of everything and lots of tears in his eyes, “Babe--I didn’t know what you wanted so I just bought everything im sorry oh gods”

He’s the pitiful soul who blushes as he buys all the pads and tampons and looks like he’s gonna cry

He’s the one who pulls a cart full of sanitary products to the first register he sees and is crying as he looks in the clerk’s eyes and cries, “My SO is on their period i dont know what they like help me please”

Christ, he’s a mess but he’s your mess and you love him

He comes back with every single snack he knows you so much as look at

Cravings? He’s got your back.

Like, you mention this shit you want half heartedly and then he disappears for three hours and comes back with a weighted blanket, heating pad, and three bags of those weird chips you were craving

He’s always blushing and frantic, but he blushes the hardest when you ask him to lay with you and cuddle

Ofc he does it--he loves it, but the bold, straightforward way you ask has him blushing head to toes

He once caught himself wishing people got periods more often just so he could hold you like this more often--he accidentally said it out loud, and you only snuggled into his chest more and told him to shut up and hold you tighter

Prompto is a mess but he tries so, so hard just to make you comfortable and content

He once drove for twenty minutes to find your favorite candy bar (and he would do it again, no question)

When you cry bc emotions, he starts to tear up, too

He always says, “Babe, if you cry, I’ll start crying and then we’ll both be crying and I don't think either of us can handle that on an emotional level” and then you both cry anyways

He likes to sing to you when you guys cuddle, his voice is soft but husky in the perfect way that lulls you to sleep

If you fall asleep in his arms, he falls asleep, too

He’s the extra bf who goes above and beyond unnecessarily, merely because he doesn’t know how else to help you

Gladdy

Holy Behemoth Batman! One of these idiots is properly aware of periods!!!

And it’s this one. Bravo, Gladdy, bravo. Fans everywhere are cheering your name.

In all seriousness, he is aware and actually knows how to handle someone who is on their period

Iris used to get some pretty bad periods, and with their mom not around and their dad always busy, it was Gladio who had to help her out and actually explain them to her in the first place (he’s never gonna forget when Iris ran up to him one morning while crying and shouting about bloody underwear)

So, needless to say, he ain’t shy during that time of the month. In fact, he knows more tips and tricks than you do, simply because he was one hell of a big bro for Iris

Heating pads? Blankets? Snacks? Damn good brands of sanitary products? He’s got it all and you didn’t even have to ask, like holy shit

Back when you guys were just starting out your relationship, you had actually gotten your period once while at his place and when you told him you’d have to go home because you forgot your products, he was like, “Oh--hang on. You prefer pads or tampons???” and pulls out a giant basket with a lobster on it, labelled ‘Menstruation Crustacean’

He said that he liked to be prepared in case Iris was over

What an absolute legend of a bf. Like, after that, you knew you weren’t letting this fucker go.

He rubs your stomach if you’re having really bad cramps and doesn’t even have to be asked to go grab you some pain meds--it’s like he has a sixth sense or some shit

Really, really chill about periods as a whole like he’s not scared to go to the store for you and he gets the right products!!!

Sometimes, when you get so sore and crampy that you can’t move, he’ll carry you around in his arms and doesn’t complain once

Will change your bloody sheets and isn’t the slightest bit grossed out--doesn’t mind emptying the bathroom trashcan either

Similar to Prompto, he loves to hold you and hum to you. He won’t sing, but even his absent minded humming while he holds you to his chest under one arm and reads some random book lulls you to sleep with ease

Quite frankly, probably the best of the bros when it comes to periods

He’s not scared of them. He doesn’t care if it gets messy, he knows what to do, like. Shit. Fuckin’ winner over here.

Ignis

Ignis, much like everyone else, does not have that much experience with periods. Didn’t really have many folks with periods around and he’s never had a SO before

So you would think he’s a hot mess--but nO! He would nEvER

He googled and he googled and he googled and he asked coworkers (always respectfully ofc) and he googled some more

He has an arsenal of tips and tricks and guides and everything--but he does lack the hands on experience

He will help you and he will buy you everything you need and more--but there will always be the hesitation of someone who doesn’t really know what they’re doing

One time, Ignis tried to rub your belly to help with cramps, but he only succeeded in tickling you and embarrassingly had to admit he doesn’t really know where his hand should be

Ugh what a cutie pie

He’s patient and sweet and he does all these small things for you without even telling you, and when you do notice, you feel like your heart is just gonna burst and vomit affection everywhere

He’s still a little embarrassed and shy when you boldly demand cuddles, but he does it nonetheless (he fucking loves it though he will never admit to it)

He’s the SO who cleans up bloody sheets and quietly gets blood stains out of your clothes while you’re vomiting from cramps, but never, ever makes a big deal out of it and does it with the caring affection of a kind man in love

Bumps his pun game to 110% to try and make you laugh

Knows which subjects and what phrases and words to avoid to prevent your emotions from blowing up

Even if they do, he never takes rude words to heart and he always comforts you lovingly, giving you a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek

He keeps an eye on you

If you shift uncomfortably, he’s there with a heating pad

If you’re meds are wearing off, he already has more in hand

Sometimes, if you want to cuddle, you only have to look at him a certain way before he’s sighing and climbing into bed next to you, reminding you that if you were anyone else he wouldn’t go this far

He just dotes on you in the quietest ways possible

Ravus

Insensitive Dumbass Part 2

Yes, he knows people get periods. Does he care? No.

Not until he falls in love with you, at least.

Cramps? Can’t be that bad. Migraines? Just mere headaches. Aches and pains? Probably nothing. He dismisses each symptom right up until you come into his life

Because when you guys get together--he gets to see firsthand just how bad everything can get

Oh gods you’re crying from it all?? VOmitting??? HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW--

He felt like a right dick (and he should)

But he was also quick to change his tune, because the love of his life can’t suffer like this

Not while he’s around!!!

He’s quick to ask Luna what to do, and thank god at least one sibling in their family is sympathetic and not a mess and a fucking half otherwise he’d be doing things through trial and error (not that he didn’t, even with the help)

He does everything by the written list Luna had given him (she knew he wasn’t gonna remember everything), even years after you two got together (he likes to use it as a benchmark of sorts to know when he’s doing everything you need)

The first few times you had sent him to the store because you ran out of supplies, he had absolutely no idea what to get and any poor employees who tried to help him earned the most aggressive, hostile glare he could muster

He ends up calling Luna, too, because how is he supposed to call you and tell you that he doesn’t know what to get??? And have you think he’s incapable??? NO! He was gonna be the best bf and get exactly what you fucking needed or so help him--

He’s just very aggressively in love. Little bit of a dick but he changes and grows as a person into the kinda man we can all love and support and who will love and support us right back!!!

He does his best but he doesn’t want to seem incapable of being helpful

Likes to remind you when your medicine is supposed to wear out so he can show that he’s some use

Anytime he gives you a massage or rubs your back or smth, he’s always giving you nervous, uncertain glances just to make sure you’re content or that he’s helping

Always giving you nervous glances just to check that you’re okay (he really loves you, he’s just not sure how to show it)

Lots of hugs and kisses but he’s embarrassed about all the skinship when you want cuddles (don’t get him wrong, he really, really loves it; he’s just… not sure what to do with all these feelings)

He learns how to be a supportive, wonderful SO when you’re on your period and maybe one day he might actually remember your favorite brand (but don’t get your hopes up too much at that)

Ardyn

Back in Ardyn’s day, periods weren’t exactly talked about, so the first few times you mentioned them, he was absolutely flabbergasted that you would blatantly talk about something that was considered so private

If he hadn’t been a healer, he wouldn’t have known near as much about them as he did

But even as a healer, periods were still something considered a woman’s subject and were usually left for women healers and mothers to handle so he could rarely do much

But then--Ardyn had to get pretty fuckin’ used to periods because you were pretty much out of commission when your “aunt irma” came to visit

First couple times you got your period while with Ardyn, they weren’t so bad, but then they went right back to their normal symptoms

When Ardyn came home to see you curled up in a ball, clutching your abdomen and trying to just keep your eyes shut to block out the light, he had thought you were terribly, terribly sick

“Darling--what’s wrong? What happened--” He was genuinely concerned and worried, his brow furrowed and mouth drawn in a worried frown. He hadn’t realized that your periods were so debilitating, so to see you like this, he had thought something even worse had happened

You only managed a groan when you tried to talk, and that only made him rush over even more, trying to lift your arms to see where you were injured, “Darling, please--”

“‘M fine,” you tried to say, “It’s just--fuck,” You hissed as a particularly bad cramp came your way, “--fine, jus’, that time of the month.” You wheezed, laying your head back down on your pillow

And that was when Ardyn realized just how terrible the symptoms could be

He was a worried man. Absurdly worried actually, and sometimes it made you want to laugh if everything didn’t hurt so badly

Ardyn was the kind of man to do absolutely anything and everything for his love, so that’s what he did

You never had to leave the bed for anything unless you really wanted to

Ardyn would deliver your pain meds on the clock, always accompanied by the most ridiculously jeweled goblet he could find (he was always one to be amusingly over the top and treat you like a queen, but his dramatics always cheered you up)

He was usually by your side unless you requested some alone time, and then he would respectfully kiss your forehead, say “Of course, darling. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call--I am always at your disposal,” and close the door quietly as he left

Otherwise, he would be laying in bed with you, one arm wrapped around your shoulder and the other holding some old book or resting across his stomach as he took a nap beside you

He would give you massages wherever you ached and he would provide herbal remedies from back in his day that were pretty good at relieving aches and pains

Ardyn’s innuendos and teasings would go on the back burner during this time--unless you instigated it

If you didn’t, he might tease you here and there, but always the tiniest, most light hearted things and it was always said in the softest teasing tones

All your feelings are valid to him, hormonal or otherwise, and he will listen to every word you say as though they were your last

Yes, you were usually treated like royalty by him, but it somehow increased exponentially when that time of the month arrived

[knybits]

A Murder of One

Chapter: 

2

Summary: 

The New Year comes, and Akiko mourns with a new incentive in mind. Akiko remembers to find solace within another person, but she continues to drown in her thoughts. 

Previous Chapter | Origin | Next Chapter

“You better get your daughter under control!” 

“She’s your granddaughter!” 

“Hiratsuka… Let’s retire for the night, plea...”

Akiko hears no more as she slams the front entrance shut, tears streaming down her face like a broken dam. Her eyes shine under the house’s entrance lamp and she can hear the mention of topaz.

Villagers stop for a moment to whisper about Akiko before she shoots them a glare. They jump slightly before rushing off, continuing their gossip over why Akiko has returned from Tokyo wearing such mournful garb. 

It’s hard for Akiko to breath, and she’s freezing on this New Year’s night. 

“God this sucks,” She grumbles out, trudging down the streets of the village, drenching her poor choice of footwear with snow. 

Every time she looks up, she sees traces of herself with Tanjirou, and she blames her cursed eyes. 

The two giggling and laughing as they try to convince villagers to buy some coal. 

The two giggling and laughing as they share a bowl of udon they worked so hard to earn. 

The two giggling and laughing as they play with some stray cat. 

Akiko shuts her eyes from the world for a moment, hugging herself close to retain some heat as her tears freeze the minute she produces them. They hurt her face, but, as cliche as it sounds, Akiko finds that the pain in her chest is more unbearable. 

“Oh! S’that you Akiko?” A voice calls out. Akiko looks to her side to find that it’s one of the kinder villagers, older with a face more worn with worry over the constant need for money. 

“Baa-chan,” Akiko greets, but the villager frowns at her tone of voice. 

“C’mon in hun. I’ll make you some toshi-koshi soba, hm?” 

Akiko  is ushered in despite her feeble protests, but what’s she gonna do? 

Freeze? 

She can only hope. 

Baa-chan quickly fans the flames of the fire before scooping some broth into another bowl, dropping some mochi and buckwheat noodles. She forces Akiko to take off her wet socks before leaving them close to the fire place, then slides the bowl of toshi-koshi soba over to the girl. 

Akiko’s face warms as she places it over her steaming bowl, attempting to smile for baa-chan. 

“Do y’need ‘nother blanket? Your socks’ll take a while to dry by the fire, but I have spare ones if y’like. Your toes ’r so blue!” 

Akiko winces, reminded of the blue scarf she knitted Tanjirou for Christmas once. 

Though not a Japanese holiday, Akiko wanted to get him a present anyway. 

She stuffs her face with the soba, shaking the memory from her mind in respect for baa-chan. 

Akiko is wordlessly given seconds, and she really doesn’t want to eat, but the look baa-chan gives her is enough for Akiko to give up. Her stomach crawls at the thought of actually putting food into her mouth, but Akiko can’t tell if it’s out of joy or disgust. 

She hasn’t been able to stomach anything as of late, but that might be because she hates the Tamura manor. Traces and memories of Tanjirou linger within the manor, and the thought of him reminds Akiko of the rotting house and the puddles of blood. 

Nevertheless, she’s hasn’t eaten all week, and her grandma isn’t around. Baa-chan is far nicer, and it’s New Years after all. 

“Care to explain why you’s walkin through this snow at night?” Baa-chan interrupts Akiko, who hesitates a few seconds before slurping the rest of her soba. 

“Was it your grandma?” 

The face Akiko makes is enough of an answer, but she provides a verbal one anyway. 

“I told her to shut up after she kept bad mouthing Tanjirou and I,” Is Akiko’s simple reply, but saying his name is enough for her to choke up. She swallows the ball in her throat, but baa-chan offers Akiko a handkerchief to cry into for the third time. 

Baa-chan collects Akiko’s bowl before sighing, “You may not want t’hear this right now, but the villagers’ve been talking, so this one’s got information.” Akiko blows her nose in a highly unladylike fashion, to which baa-chan smirks at. 

City life, huh.

“Villagers say the Kamado family was killed by a man with a blue katana, scruffy black hair tied back into a low ponytail, y’know? His eyes are blue, but the most distinct part about him’s the two patterned haori. One side red ‘n the other orange ‘n green. He was spotted round the house some time near the murder, but those’r  just rumors dear.” 

Baa-chan looks over at Akiko, who has been eerily quiet the whole time. Not a muscle moving, but her face shadowing over with a look that baa-chan has never seen on Akiko’s usual joyous face. 

“...Dear?” 

“Thank you for the meal, baa-chan. I have to go home now.” 

“O-Okay. Warm your toes up at home, alright?” 

“Happy new year.” 

 “Happy new year dear. Any plans for the new year?” 

Akiko slips her getas on, her socks left by the fire side. She pauses for a minute before carelessly  smiling back at baa-chan. 

“Mourn, I guess?” 

--- 

“Mama! Papa! I wanna go shop!” 

Hiratsuka and Ray look down at their little daughter, who pouts and stomps all over the new manor in Tokyo. 

“Ah, Akiko please stop. You’re ruining the new house already!” Hiratsuka frets over her little girl, and Ray swoops her up into his arms with a laugh. 

“Now why does my princess want to shop, hm?” 

“I wanna go with the maids! Food!” 

“Sentences, dear.” 

Akiko screams in her father’s arms, struggling to roll out, but Ray has a tight grip on her to prevent her from cracking her head open on the floor. Or, that’s what he’s trying his best to prevent (worst case scenario for a parent-wise). 

“I’ve been here all week! I wanna see Tanjirou! I don’t wanna go to some stupid school with other stupid boys! Let me go outside! I’m a big girl now, right?! Eight is big!!!” Akiko screams and kicks again and the exhausted couple sighs in defeat. 

“Mika, take Akiko shopping with you please.” Ray calls out, and Mika steps forward with a calm smile. 

Akiko is gently put down and Mika brushes the imaginary dust off of Akiko’s western styled dress, all frilly and poofy like. 

Ray crouches down next to Akiko, a hand on her shoulder.

“Now don’t get lost, okay? Stay by Mika and listen to her-” 

��-

“I’M LOST!!!!” 

Akiko cries by the side of the road, suddenly caught within a sea of strangers that brush by her without a second glance. 

There’s snot running down her nose and she’s gripping the hem of her dress, crocodile tears bubbling down her cheeks. 

She keeps hiccuping, wiping whatever fluids run down her face with her cotton sleeves and quickly ruining her dress. But she stays where she is, knowing that it’s her best chance at getting home quickly. 

“Are you okay?” A sweet voice brings Akiko’s attention up from the floor. 

The stranger’s hair is pink, reminding Akiko of the cotton candy she had at a circus in England a while ago. 

Akiko slowly shakes her head no, fumbling with the ends of her dress and pouting at the floor, trying her hardest to contain her tears. She wants Tanjirou to be here, holding her hand and reassuring her that things will turn out alright. 

The girl crouches down to Akiko’s level, a bright smile on her face as she offers Akiko a rice ball with a plum in it. 

“Will this cheer you up?” 

Akiko blankly stares at the rice ball, sniffling a few times before snatching the rice ball and stuffing it in her dress pocket. 

“What the-“ 

“It’s for my fiance,” Akiko says. 

“...Wouldn’t you rather eat it now?” 

“No.” 

“...Come with onee-chan, yeah?” 

So Akiko takes the girl’s hand, waddling through the crowded streets of Tokyo with her new ‘big sister.’ 

Akiko doesn’t say much during the walk, her mind blank as she tightly grips the girl’s fingers. 

She sees that they’re cut up and calloused, a bit dirty but that doesn’t bother Akiko considering her own hands are covered in snot and tears. 

“My name’s Kanon! How about you?” 

“Akiko.” 

Kanon smiles wryly at the girl, a bit thrown off by her sudden emotionless nature, but decides that Akiko is probably trying to reset her emotions after getting lost. 

They walk a bit more before arriving in front of a big building, other people going in and out. There are a lot of foreigners, and Akiko notices a business partner or two of her father’s. 

“Welcome to my family’s inn! Don’t let go of onee-chan’s hand, okay?” 

Akiko nods, sniffling once more before allowing herself to be tugged into the inn. 

It’s lively, to say the least. 

Japanese and foreigners alike are milling around the lobby, talking and joking with each other and discussing other things. Some are eating japanese food while others are eating western food, and one has a plate of Indian curry in front of them! 

It’s not extravagant and Akiko doesn’t see a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling like the hotel she stayed at in France, but it’s warm and Akiko likes how the atmosphere makes her feel. 

There are a few people by reception and well dressed men with women on their sleeves; what Akiko can identify as a busboy rushing down the stairs who takes notice of Kanon. 

“Ah! Kanon! You’re back!” He cries out, and Kanon ruffles his hair with her spare hand. 

The boy peeks from behind Kanon to look at Akiko, “Who’s this?” 

“She got lost, so I was gonna bring her into the kitchen and make her something. Bring me a map of Tokyo, wouldja?” 

Akiko is quiet as she follows Kanon into what seems to be the kitchen, where an older version of Kanon is working furiously. The little boy returns soon with a map, and Kanon thanks him before he’s off to work again. 

“So what’s your favorite food? Your onee-chan will cook you something good, yeah?” Kanon smiles, leaning across the steel counter. Akiko look up at the ceiling before replying. 

“Carrots.” 

“Huh?” 

“Carrots.” 

“...Onee-chan will try her best.” 

Akiko spends her time waiting by swinging her legs back and forth, staring at Kanon work with unblinking eyes. Kanon is bothered, but she won’t say so in fear that Akiko will burst into tears. 

A few minutes later, a plate of stew with a bunch of carrots is placed in front of Akiko to enjoy. 

Kanon waits for Akiko to start eating, hoping that it will be something that Akiko enjoys. 

“...I’m not allowed to eat something a stranger gives me.” 

“THAT’S WHERE YOU DRAW THE LINE?!” Kanon gives up, throwing her hands into the air in defeat. She collapses to the floor and Akiko finally cracks a smile. 

“But onee-chan’s stew is really really good!” 

Kanon brushes her pink hair from her face, processing Akiko’s happy expression as she quickly finishes her food, even going so far as to lick her plate clean. 

A soft smile makes its way onto her face before she stands, taking the map nearby and folding it out for Akiko to see. 

“Let’s get you home, okay Akiko?” 

—-

“Akiko!” Kanon, now 16, cries out before hugging the seemingly lifeless girl. 

Kanon hasn’t seen Akiko since the day Akiko left for the countryside in a hurry, forgetting the New Year plans the two had made. 

But with all the rumors going in and out of the inn (which houses a few of Ray’s business partners) Kanon knows that Akiko isn’t in the right state of mind after the death of her fiance. 

Her black kimono is proof of that fact. 

“It’s been months! Where have you been?” Kanon pulls away from the smaller girl, holding both her hands in her own. 

Akiko smiles weakly, “Sorry. I’ve been busy.” 

“But it’s March now! Have you been with your grandmother the whole time?” 

The guilty look is enough for Kanon to know, but Akiko musters enough courage to shake her head and tell her that she returned from the countryside a week after New Years. 

“I need time,” Is Akiko’s only other answer, and Kanon accepts it. 

Kanon leads the ginko eyed girl back into the kitchen, a bright smile on her face as she talks to Akiko about what’s been going on at the inn. Anything to get Akiko’s mind off of the incident, really. 

She’s cooking and Akiko’s listening, and while Akiko is at the inn, it feels like everything is normal and nothing could go wrong. 

Like nothing is wrong.

After some time, Akiko grows restless with her false sense of security and smiles weakly at Kanon, telling her that she should be on her way. 

Akiko has a cloth wrapped box of leftovers with her, the sky dark and the sea of lights illuminating the streets. Akiko stands out of the way of the other guests, waving Kanon good bye. 

“Get home safely, okay?” Kanon frowns with worry, reaching out to hold Akiko’s hand like usual. 

Her eyes widen with shock when Akiko quickly snatches her hand back, but the smile on Akiko’s face show as if there’s nothing wrong. 

“Mhm! Don’t worry, onee-chan. I’ll get home safe. Thanks for the food!” 

Kanon frowns before shaking her head, “You don’t get it Akiko. I’ve been hearing rumors of disappearances lately! I don’t want you to disappear, okay? Come back soon so we can talk some more!” 

Akiko smiles again before she’s off, and Kanon stares at the back of her best friend with worry. 

There’s a slight wobble in Akiko’s step, and her figure looks a lot frailer than before. Akiko’s lavish life doesn’t allow her to be as thin as all the other girls in Tokyo. 

But now? 

She’s nearly skin and bone, and there isn’t much Kanon can do to fix that. 

Akiko is doing this to herself. 

The grip on the box tightens as Akiko begins to think again, something she shouldn't really be doing these days. 

Her mind wanders now and everything around her becomes an absolute blur, faces passing by and voices intermixing with other voices. 

And the cycle repeats like the new broken record Akiko threw to the ground in a psychotic rage the other day. 

Maybe if she had begged her parents a little harder to go back to the countryside for the New Year, she could have prevented all of the deaths. 

Maybe if she had been there, she could have saved their lives with what small medical knowledge she has. 

Maybe if she studied harder. 

Maybe if she begged harder. 

Maybe if- 

“Tomioka-san? Is the demon near?” 

A butterfly pin floats past Akiko’s vision before her heart stops. 

“It should be right up ahead.” 

Dead navy eyes.

Black hair tied back into a ponytail. 

Blue katana. 

A two patterned haori.

Akiko’s liquid gold eyes stare right into the uncaring gaze of the man that killed her fiance. 

stranger danger akiko but whatever ig,,, let me cover up my shitty plot hole with a: her eyes tell her than kanao is a good person 

anyway thanks for waiting!! i actually wrote this a long time ago but ive been real shit with editting bc this chapter isnt as,,, difficult as the other ones and i still wanted to make sure it was entertaining ;-; 

but kanon is @kny-imagines‘s oc!! shes actually really important to the story despite the fact that i am NOT a fan of more than one ocs in a fic but uhm plz deal with my writing :,,) 

hope you guys stay tuned for the next update! idk when im gonna turn this story over to wattpad officially lmao 

[artificialqueens]

I'll uber instead (Branjie) - multifandomgeek

Link to AO3

Brooke and Vanessa had been seeing each other for about a month when they finally were able to make plans to spend a whole day together. Brooke invited Vanessa over, and even if the blonde had made sure Vanessa would think about it before responding, there was no doubt in the younger woman’s mind that she was ready to get to the next level with Brooke. However, one of Vanessa’s close friends had a family emergency that delayed their plans. Now, as they texted each other and Vanessa got ready to head over to Brooke’s place, there was excitement and a good kind of tension between them.

Vanessa: I think I’m gonna call an uber, it’s raining too much

Brooke: sounds fine to me, I can just buzz you in then

Vanessa had butterflies in her stomach as she gave herself a last look on the mirror before she left to run from the cover of her building’s entrance to the car waiting for her at the curb. She had fantasized so many times about their first time already, ever since they were just strangers on a train, and run all kinds of scenarios about this ‘Netflix and chill’ date of theirs ever since Brooke mentioned it. She had gone all the way from shy and soft touches, to love confessions, to passionate throwing each other against walls, to kinky playing-with-pain sex. At this point, she didn’t know what to expect, almost didn’t want to expect anything. She just knew that she wanted it bad and couldn’t wait for it to actually happen.

As she got to Brooke’s address, the rain started to get worse. Vanessa got out of the car and tried to fit under the building’s small entrance, scrolling through her texts to find the damn apartment number, but there were a few raindrops on her screen and it was making the stupid device get all confused with Vanjie’s commands. She was huffing and puffing and about to throw the damn thing at the asphalt when she heard the heavenly sound of the door being opened.

“You wanna come in?” asked the guy who was going out of the building.

“Yes please, thank you!” said Vanessa gratefully, having a much easier time dealing with her phone once she was inside the hall. Brooke’s building was simple, and it was no trouble finding her apartment once she knew the number. She rang the doorbell, more eager to get out of her wet shoes than anything else at the moment.

Brooke took a moment to open the door, and once she did she had a confused look on her face, but Vanessa completely missed that on the account that she was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her wet body. Her jaw dropped a little bit.

“You’re early,” said Brooke, holding her towel self-consciously.

“Didn’t you say 10?” said Vanessa, having such a hard time to look back at Brooke’s face.

“I said 11,” said Brooke, “but come in. Sorry, you just surprised me.”

“Right back at you,” said Vanessa, breathlessly. She got inside, closing the door behind her and toeing off her shoes all the while unable to take her eyes off of Brooke. They were staring at each other now, and she could see how Brooke’s breathing was getting erratic by the movement of her chest.

“I’ll… uh… get dressed,” said Brooke, not moving at all.

“Yeah,’ said Vanessa, taking a step closer. “Or…”

“Or?” Brooke was already leaning down, and Vanessa surged up to kiss her with a hunger she didn’t know she had in her. Brooke’s hands let go of her towel to grab at the lapels of Vanessa’s jacket and pull it down her shoulders. Vanessa’s hands were on Brooke’s hips in a bruising grip in a second. She was very, very aware of the fact that she had all her clothes on while Brooke was buck naked and fresh out of the shower in her arms. She had never been so turned on in her life.

She let go of Brooke to let her jacket fall on the floor, going immediately for the button of her pants after. Damn it, why didn’t she wear a dress? The blonde walked backward, pulling her with her by the mouth just as much as by the hand she had on her back. Vanessa finally worked her zipper open and pushed her pants down as Brooke tugged at her top. It was ridiculous for a moment, and they laughed, but then she was almost naked and they were pressed together again, Vanessa sucking at Brooke’s neck, while her hands finally got to roam around the blonde’s body, pressing her closer, sliding all the way from her shoulder blades down to to the plump of her ass, where she took two handfuls and kneaded, biting unintentionally at the juncture of Brooke’s neck and shoulder from how good it felt.

She didn’t even realize Brooke had gotten her bra and panties off until she was stepping out of it and throwing it to the floor as they somehow ended up next to a bed. Brooke got on it in a remarkably sexy way, leaning on her elbows right at the middle, with a bent knee and an extended arm calling for Vanessa to join her.

Vanessa was basking in the view, having got so worked up she didn’t get a chance to look until now. She sat on the foot of the bed so she could put her hands on the top of Brooke’s feet, sliding them to her calves, making her way to her thighs where she massaged lightly, approaching her thumbs teasingly to Brooke’s crotch but not really getting there, touching her hips instead, spreading her hands wide on her stomach, caressing every inch of it, leaning down to press a kiss right a the center. She stopped at her ribs to straddle her, only then cupping her breasts to caress them with the same gentle touch she had used over her entire body. She spent an extra moment there, but soon kept going, sliding her hands to Brooke’s prominent collarbones, her elegant neck. Her damp hair was sprawled over the pillow, her eyes half closed, her mouth slightly open. She was so beautiful. Vanessa brought her fingers up to trace her browbone, her cheekbones, her nose, her jaw. Then she leaned down to trace her lips with her tongue, letting Brooke suck it into her mouth and kiss her languidly and slowly as Vanjie’s hands blindly slid all the way from Brooke’s shoulders down to her fingers, where she laced them with her own and brought them up over Brooke’s head.

The Blonde arched her back so their breasts slid against each other’s, and Vanessa shifted to slot her legs together at the same time that Brooke bent her knees so they would provide pressure to each other as their kiss became faster and their bodies started rolling against one another’s.

Vanessa moved to nibble and mouth at Brooke’s neck as she started to breathe heavily and kissing became too hard. One of her hands moved to knead Brooke’s tit while the other went to the bed, giving her a little leverage as she grounded her hips down on Brooke’s leg. She was feeling Brooke’s wetness on her own knee as the blond pushed against her, and she had to stop her hand and mouth for a moment, closing her eyes just to feel that.

Brooke had her hands all over Vanessa’s body, never stopping for too long in one place, squeezing her ass in one moment and scraping at her neck on another, just to play with her nipples on the next while nibbling her ear at the same time. “I have a toy,” said Brooke in between huffs of breaths. Vanessa leaned up to look at her face.

“You wanna use it?” she said, not resisting to lean down and kiss down Brooke’s sternum while she answered.

“Yeah,” said Brooke, hand on the back of Vanessa’s head. “If you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa said, nodding and going back up for another kiss. “Where is it?”

They untangled from each other so Brooke could reach to her nightstand drawers and get a white g-spot vibrator from it. She put it on the bed coyly, and Vanessa resisted the urge to tease her. She smirked and got the toy on her hand, immediately going back to kissing Brooke. Soon enough, they were back on their previous mood, maybe even more eager for each other.

Vanessa got her free hand down and pressed at Brooke’s entire pussy at once, earning herself a restrained moan. She broke the kiss to concentrate on the movements of her hand and watch the blonde’s face while she did it. She gathered some of the wetness that already coated Brooke’s insides on her middle finger and moved it up to rub it at Brooke’s clit, who closed her eyes and grabbed Vanessa’s arm.

Vanessa kissed Brooke’s lips briefly before she went down to replace her finger with her tongue, relishing in the way Brooke’s body reacted to the change, her legs opening wide, her hips bucking for a second, her hands looking for something to hold on too, and the most delicious sounds coming out of her mouth. Vanessa sucked and flicked her tongue while she circled her entrance teasingly with her digits, leaving the toy aside for now. She put one finger in and then another, without wait because of how relaxed Brooke was. She kept going for a moment, then let go of her clit with a generous lap and took her fingers out, but kept touching Brooke’s vulva, exploring it thoroughly, more for her own pleasure than for the blonde’s.

“How do you want me to do it?” asked Vanessa, her voice husky, taking the toy and inspecting it to find its buttons. She held it still turned off against Brooke’s cunt, the coldness making her jump slightly. Vanessa kept it still while Brooke made tiny movements against it. “Do you like it strong for the get go or do you want me to build it up real nice and slow for you?” she said seductively, draping her body over Brooke’s and kissing her deeply, her hand in place while Brooke’s labia enveloped the toy and heated it up as she ground against it.

Vanessa tried to pull back, but Brooke put a hand on her neck to prevent it, kissing her deeply for a little longer, while her hand found her still untouched pussy, giving it some well deserved attention as she answered: “Not too slow,” she said, giving Vanessa’s clit a particularly hard rub before she let go, making her moan loudly and bite Brooke’s lip before she went down to work on her again.

Vanessa turned the toy on, quickly clicking her way into all speeds so she could set it on a middle-ground one. She placed an open-mouthed kiss on Brooke’s inner thigh while she rubbed her clit with her thumb. She kept going at her clit gently as she placed the toy inside her, watching her reaction. Brooke moaned and gasped, which was good but could be better. Vanessa took the vibrator in and out a few times before she started angling and moving it to find Brooke’s G-spot. She was sitting on the bed, and let go of Brooke’s clit in favor of roaming her hand through her beautiful body as far as she could reach.

At a certain point, Brooke moaned more deeply, relaxing back into the bed with a pleasant sigh. Vanessa kept the vibrator’s position in mind, making tiny movements to alternate the pressure and massage the spot thoroughly. She moved down to eat her out again, simultaneously making the toy go faster. Brooke started to move more forcefully under Vanessa’s ministrations, lost in her pleasure. She was moaning with abandon and was holding on to the headboard with one hand while the other was tangled in Vanessa’s hair.

“Harder,” gasped Brooke, “just a little bit, I’m almost… ah”

Vanessa obliged, clicking the button higher and going harder with her tongue too, trying to keep up with Brooke’s hip movements. A few more seconds and Brooke let go of Vanessa’s head, gripping the headboard for dear life as she threw her head back and arched her body, letting out a strangled groan as she came. Vanessa took the toy out of her, keep going with her fingers and mouth through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Vanessa let go of her, turning off the toy that was still moving on its own on the bed. She crawled up to kiss Brooke, who looked spent and utterly fucked out. She couldn’t imagine she looked any better. They hugged and tangled her legs as they kissed. Vanessa’s pussy was hot as all hell, she was so wet she wouldn’t be surprised if she was actually dripping, and her clit was positively throbbing, begging for some attention. She groped Brooke’s breast and tried to angle herself with a thigh, a knee, anything really. Brooke seemed to get the hint though, maneuvering Vanessa to lay on her back and sucking on her neck as her hand went down and she started fingering her, pressing down at her clit with her palm.

“I have some condoms if you wanna use it too,” said Brooke, referring to the toy.

“Maybe later,” said Vanessa, already too far gone. “Just eat me out, baby, please,” she begged, eyes closed. Brooke happily obliged, and it didn’t take long for Vanessa to come, she had been on edge for a while now.

Brooke placed little pecks all the way up Vanessa’s body as they came down from their highs, finding she was ticklish on the ribs but storing the information for later opportunities. They went under the covers and were looking at each other with content smiles on their faces. Vanessa noticed for the first time that she could hear the rain splashing on Brooke’s window.

“You tired?” asked Brooke after a while.

“Not really but I don’t really want us to get out of bed either,” responded Vanessa, shuffling closer to Brooke, who chuckled and pulled the covers over their heads like a cocoon.

“I originally planned for us to watch a movie on the couch but I think I could get some stuff from the kitchen and we could do it here instead,” she said. “I’m in favor of the bed but I’m also hungry.”

“I like that plan much better,” responded Vanessa, kissing Brooke’s smile. They put the covers back down and Brooke gave Vanessa a remote so she could choose a movie on the TV in front of the bed while she gathered some food for them. They kissed one last time before Brooke got out of the bed and reached for a shirt.

“Hey, hey, woah!” said Vanessa in a warning tone.

“What?” responded Brooke, startled.

“The plan doesn’t include putting on clothes, Mary!”

Brooke’s belly laughter filled the whole room.

[zxanthe]

Maka and Soul are best friends and have been since they were infants, but they both have huge crushes on each other and have for a while. Neither one of them knows, but senior prom is coming around and both are looking for dates. More like each other

another late prompt! kinda flubbed it on the “best friends” bit and turned it into more of a “best hatefriends” type of thing - in any case, this is a bit experimental - hope yall enjoy lmao

(also available on ao3)

–

“Broooo,” Starleers, and his teeth glitter too brightly under the lights, “you got a date tothe prom yet?”

Jealousy, irrational and sudden, starts buzzing in ahigh-pitched whine by his ear before he squashes it flat with a snort. “Spend afuckload of money to get trapped in some hotel ballroom with a bunch of peopleI hate for three hours? C’mon, dude, there are way better ways to spend yourtime.”

“Okay, but, consider: Tsubaki Nakatsukasa.” He shoots a grinand a wink over Soul’s shoulder. The girl in question smiles and waves backsheepishly. She’s standing a ways down the hall with Liz Thompson and – oh God.Soul’s heart skips a beat. He swivels his head back frontways, cool as can be.

“She actually said yes?”

“Of course! It’s not like I thought she wouldn’t or anything,I mean have you seen these guns?”

Throbbing, gently glistening muscles are thrust under hisnose. “Should make you a sandwich with all that jelly you got there,” Star sayswith a smirk.

Soul makes a show of rolling his eyes and shoves him away.“Bro, c’mon.”

“No bro, you c’mon.It’s our senior year. Think of all the people we can make fun of!”

“Like we don’t do that every day.”

“But they’ll be thinking they’re even hotter shit thanthey’re usually not so it’ll be twice as funny.”

“Still no.”

“Brah. Whatever, let’s hit the gym. Not much time left tofit in those gains, ya dig?”

“Unbelievable,” Soul grumbles. He grabs his bag and slamshis locker shut.

Across the hall, Maka grabs her bag and slams her lockershut. “Who, Evans?”

“Yeah!” says Liz, smacking her gum. “Tsu’s already goingwith Blockhead over there, might as well go along for moral support. ‘Sides,didn’t you two used to be like BFFs up till like middle school?”

She very determinedly doesn’t look back. She can feel herears heating up. “Okay, one, that was a long time ago and we don’t really talkanymore because he turned into a jerk, and two, Tsu, really?!”

“Black Star has such nice deltoids, Maka,” Tsubaki saysmournfully. “They’re sculpted. Andhe’s actually not all that bad, once you get to know him.”

“You’re too nice for your own good.”

“Maybe so. But you know, he’s kind of charming, in his ownspecial way.”

“Oh my God.”

Liz cackles. “Look, I’d ask Evans myself cause mmm, grungerocker boy with a sexy-ass glare? I’d be all over that, baby, but Kid alreadyasked me, so my hands are kinda tied.”

Maka huffs. Her ears must be totally red by now, ugh, shereally hopes Liz isn’t in an observant mood. It’s not like she expressly needsa date to go to the prom; going stag is very much a thing. Having one wouldn’tnecessarily make the undoubtedly agonizing experience any better, much lessSoul Evans of all people. She imagines, though, for a brief, blinding instant,what he’d look like in a suit – oh no, Liz is looking at her and she doesn’t likethe glint in her eye. Maka clears her throat and fumbles at the threads ofconversation. “That rich boy transfer student? No way.”

“Yes way,” Liz says, smugness creeping into her voice, “andif – “

“ – you don’t go I will be fuckin’ hurt.”

Soul rolls his eyes. “Would you quit it already, it’s beenlike a week now. Th’ fuck you even need me there for anyway, dumbass, you’vefinally got a date with the chick you’ve been talking about nonstop for likethis entire semester.”

“Uh, yeah, and I need my most loyal follower and favoritewingman there to bask in the combined force of our blinding hotness.”

“Jesus, you’re so weird,why do I even talk to you?”

“The words I speaketh are ambrosia on thine ears, my goodbro. Hey, why don’t you ask out Tsubaki’s friend? That short flat-chested onewith the pigtails, I forgot her name. That way you don’t have to worry aboutthird-wheeling us.”

Soul chokes on his protein shake. Black Star pounds himvigorously on the back. “Breathe, brother. I know, I know. But take one for theteam, yeah?”

“Fuck you,” Soul gasps. “You’re the worst.”

“Shh. No tears, only dreams now.”

“Maka Albarn,” Soul begins, “is the nerdiest, most uptight –“

“ – idiotic slacker in the entire school!” Her ears aresteaming, she’s sure of it. “I can’t be seenwith a guy like that, the act alone will drop my GPA by a full lettergrade!”

“GPA-shmeePA,” Liz says with a dismissive wave of herfreshly-painted nails. “Listen, you won’t flunk out of college or whatever justbecause you go party for one night. Besides, what if things go south withBlockhead and Tsu needs backup? Who’ll look after our girl?”

“I know taekwondo, you know,” Tsu says from on top of herbed.

“Not the point. C’mon, Maka!”

“A triangle has three sides,” Tsu says. “Senior prom wouldn’tbe right without you. You don’t even have to ask anyone if you don’t want to.”

I do, though, mumblesa little voice in the back of her head, and an image of Soul surfaces in herbrain. She bites her lip. “Well…”

“Uh,” says Soul.

In front of him, Maka puts a hand on her hip. “Uhhh,” she mimics. “Are you just goingto stare at me like an idiot all day or was there something you had to say?”

His stomach’s doing backflips and it’s making it very hardto concentrate. The bell just rang, they’re huddled awkwardly against the walljust outside the classroom to avoid getting swept up in the crowd, and herealizes, belatedly, that he doesn’t have to do this. He could just go byhimself, and be the awkward third wheel, but. Ugh. This is stupid – why’s he sonervous? (He knows exactly why.) He plays it off as lofty annoyance. “Do you,”he begins.

“Do I.”

“Do you. Wanna go to prom?”

Maka gapes. She was thinking he’d be asking to copy hercalculus homework for the billionth time, or maybe help on a biology problem –they have entirely too many classes together and it’s bullshit, it really is –but not this. She’d been agonizing ona dignified way to ask him for the past three days, and then this just dropsinto her lap –

“Hello in there,” Soul says. “Wow, am I really thatoffensive? I’m hurt.”

Her heart’s beating too fast, ugh, God, she can’t think – wait,he asked her, does this mean – could it be that –

“Yes,” she blurts.

Disappointment skewers his stomach mid-somersault. “Well,that settles that, I guess.”

Mortification consumes her as she realizes what she justsaid. “No!” she cries, too passionately. Soul turns around and quirks aneyebrow. Her ears are flaming. “Imean, yes! I mean, you’re – palatable! I’ll go to prom with you!”

“Oh. Oh. Hella.Rad. Guess I’ll uh. See you then. You have my number already, right?”

“Y-yeah!”

Fuck me, Soulthinks as he escapes, hoping she didn’t catch him blushing like a motherfucker,hella rad –

- you’re palatable – Maka wants to die –

REALLY?!

“Really?” Maka asks.

They made it intact to the dance floor. Some sappy countrysong is playing. The floor is packed with sweaty, inept teenage dancers; itreeks accordingly. He’s wearing a rental and she’s got on this knee-lengthpurple number that really highlights her lack of any womanly curves whatsoever.Her hair’s half-down half bizarre corkscrew pigtails. Liz and Tsubaki must havedone her makeup, there’s no way she could get it to look that polished on herown. She looks gawky. She looks ridiculous. There’s something funny happeningin his chest at the sight of her.

She feels the light, hesitant pressure of his hand in hersand on her hip like nothing she’s ever felt. His palm’s a little clammy. He’sso tall. When did he get so tall? Her heart’s beating a million miles an hour.She wants – she wants – she takes a deep breath. “Do you even know how todance?”

“Nope.”

“Ugh, figures.”

“Hey, you were theone who wanted to get out here, not me. Don’t you dare complain.”

She steps on his toe and feels gratified at the little yelpof pain he gives. “Ugh, you’re so…it’s a freaking dance, dummy, not a sit-at-the-table-like-a-weirdo!” Her heartleaps into her throat as a terrible thought occurs to her. “If you didn’t wannacome,” she says, a shade quieter, “why’d you even ask me?”

Soul swallows. “I, uh. Star, he.”

Oh no. Oh no, she’s a world-class idiot. “Don’t,” she says thickly,beginning to pull away. “Ha ha, very funny, ask the ugly one out for shits and giggles – “

“No!” Soul’s grip tightens. “It wasn’t – I wouldn’t – do youactually think I’d – “

“Yes!” she says,trying to escape in earnest now, and Soul flinches, stung. He doesn’t let go,though.

“Listen to me, itwasn’t a dare, okay, I – “

“Then why!”

“Because – it’s uncool to go to prom without a date and – “

“Oh, so it’s about your image, is it! God, men, you’re all so – “

“Let me finish!” hegrowls, and tries to pull her back to him, but he pulls too hard and of courseshe fucking trips and suddenly it is taking all of Soul’s considerablebalancing skills, honed from years spent studying the ways of the skateboard,to keep them from eating shit like a couple of goddamn morons. They performseveral very silly and energetic twirls instead, earning them some dirty looksfrom neighboring couples.

“Holy shit,” says Black Star from their table, elbowingTsubaki. “This is going way better than we thought.”

“It’s beautiful,” she sighs, smiling a little.

“Jesus,” Soulsays. He’s dipped her. This final move was necessary to prevent them fromfalling, and also to make everything look totally awesome and intentional.Their faces are very close together. She’s got really, really pretty eyes, henotes, a little dazedly. “Because I wantedto,” he blurts out.

Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her mouth is suddenly verydry. “You…what?”

“I mean, like, Star was like, ask Maka, because she’s Tsu’sfriend and all and it would just make sense and I wouldn’t go otherwise but I actuallywanted to, also, I mean, ask you.”

“Oh,” she says. She’s dizzy from all the spinning they justdid and kinda breathless. This close she can smell his cologne. The lights aretoo dim to properly tell but – her heart stops – is that a blush on his face? Oh. Oh.

Oh. She’s looking at him with something very much likedisgust, or shock, or something – fucking hell, he blew it, this is it, shereally does hate him now. He straights back up. The song is still fuckingplaying. He knew this was a bad idea, the entire night, all of it – this danceis just the rotten cherry on the shit sundae of the entire liquid fart of hisentire high school career. He swallows hard, and wonders how much more she’dhate him if he bolted right here and now –

Her brain has short-circuited, as it tends to do around thisstupid, stupid boy. “Are you even going to college?” she blurts nonsensically.

He looks visibly startled. “What? No. No. Fuck the police,”he mumbles.

One beat. Two. Then she busts out laughing. Okay, now he’sdefinitely blushing, she can see it, it’s confirmed. Silly, silly coolguys.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles. “I hate you.”

She’s feeling very brave, or maybe very stupid. Maybethey’re the same thing. She tightens her grip on his shoulder and steps incloser. “Do you?” she asks him. “Well I hate you more. I’ve always hated you.”

“Oh, sick. Even when we were kids?”

“Especially then.”

His eyes get a strange, blazing look. It makes butterfliesexplode in the pit of her stomach. He jerks her through a turn round thecorner. “Well I’ve hated you since I first saw your stupid face,” he growls.“Every time you smile I get so fuckin’ pissed, I wanna just, just kiss it right off you.”

“Holy shit,” Maka blurts, and now her whole face is probablythe color of a fire engine, “son of a,” and she goes for it, loops her armsround his neck and presses close like she’s wanted to all night.

“You’re awful,” Soul rumbles, and hugs her tighter, “fuckingterrible – “

“Uncouth, moronic – “

“Why don’t we cut the crap,” he says suddenly, “and blowthis joint. Let’s go to The Creek and stargaze, like we used to.”

“The Creek?”

“Oh yeah. Our one. Bet our fort’s still there andeverything.”

“Bet.”

“You’re on. Loser’s gotta pay up with – ” and she feels hisbreathing hitch “ –  a kiss.”

She pulls away and looks at him. There are spots of color inhis cheeks, and when he meets her eyes they deepen and he looks away. Ice cold,yeah right. She takes a deep breath. They have a lot of catching up to do.

“Deal,” she says, and smiles.

[shoelace-noose]

#097 | Talk

Five Hargreeves & Linda Martin. Five is supposed to talk to someone.

Word Count: 823

Five stares at the doctor. She stares back. She’s average, he supposes, for the area. Recently, Miguel and Skye decided it would do everyone some good to move into a big city. Get away from Santo Padre and all the ghosts, some literal in Klaus’ case, give everyone a second chance in a new school. And possibly, for the doctor sitting across from Five in her soft little chair. Bleach blonde and a bit older looking than most of the people on these streets, old woman glasses, and a notepad. She specializes in getting to the root of delusions, apparently. Five had looked her up and found out she’s the one treating Lucifer Morningstar.

“So-”

“I have to sit here,” Five interrupts, “but that doesn’t mean I have to talk to you.”

Nodding, the doctor shifts her grip on her pen, poised to put something on her paper.

“Don’t write that down.”

She presses her pink lips together. The color is too bright for her, Five thinks, too much like something the Handler would wear if she ever stepped away from her gaudy trademark red. Even thinking about that woman makes him tense, and of course the doctor notices. It’s her job to analyze him and pick him apart until he’s nothing but a pile of crumbs like the kind Diego leaves when he’s cramming dry cheerios into his mouth in the middle of the night like some kind of animal. He prefers honey-nut, but won’t admit it. Some amount of pride, maybe.

“Tell me about your friend?”

“She’s more than my friend,” Five argues, even though he said he wouldn’t talk, and pulls Dolores firmly closer, her cold plastic body pressing almost uncomfortably against his side. “Dolores is my everything.”

The doctor- what was her name? Five knows he knew her name. He squints at her desk and reads it out. Dr. Martin. Dr. Martin writes Dolores’ name on her paper and asks, “When did you two meet?”

Maybe it wouldn’t be half bad for Five to be like Klaus. High off his ass, near deaf. He’d have an excuse to play stupid until Dr. Martin decides to entertain herself otherwise during the session and quietly pockets the certainly hefty paycheck from Skye for every hour she spends attempting to unravel the wires in his brain. Does she enjoy the checks, he wonders? Because Skye is old-fashioned enough to have a physical checkbook, but eccentric enough for them to be patterned with dolphins instead of boring beige.

He decides to just not answer Dr. Martin. Five did not ask to be psychoanalyzed. He didn’t ask to be here. The only reason he showed up was because everyone’s been so on edge since Klaus overdosed- since Ben died, really- and his agreeing to go to this session without a fight definitely put Miguel’s anxiety at ease. He’s been a wreck, and everyone has agreed not to mention it. He’s always checking in on them, and has been a bit of a pain in the ass about Five actually taking the medication he was prescribed. Something about him having a full on anxious meltdown at a store only a few days before Klaus overdosed on the drugs he was supposed to be taking to prevent that kind of thing, has Miguel enforcing that he follow the little yellow and white label.

Will Dr. Martin want him to start taking more medications. Maybe something to turn him into the kind of mindless zombie Ben turned himself into in the weeks leading up to what he did to himself. It’s one thing for him to have constantly, constantly, covered the inside of his hoodie with scarlet and dark brown that no one could ever see except for Five when he kneeled in front of Ben in the bathroom and wrapped his arms in bandages or poured peroxide over his hips. It’s another to make the mess he did of all their lives so soon after they got him back.

“Do you blame yourself for what happened to Ben?”

Five’s head snaps up. He must’ve been talking aloud. Ever since he was a child, he’s had a habit of doing so. His father had hated it, tortured him for it once. How many times has he been told that it would get him in trouble? Stupid, stupid, stupid. He pulls Dolores tighter against him even though it hurts and curls his toes in his shoes.

“What Ben did to himself, you mean.”

“Sure. But it sounds like you feel you’re at least partially to blame.”

He should stay for the full hour, even if he doesn’t actually say anything. But Five hates this more than he thought he would, and he just wants to go back home and pretend to be annoyed by how loud his siblings are, when in reality it’s the opposite. He loves knowing they’re alive and alright. So he stands up and leaves.

[olboypacman]

9. When Angela (Arella) Met Trigon (Trigon the Benevolent)

A/N: I don’t own Teen Titans.

She hisses in pain as the necessary mark is cut into the back of her neck.

“We’ll meet our lord Scath soon, sister Angela.” Says a fellow member of the church.

The sting of the cut is further agitated as the same member attends the fresh cut with hemostatic medicine.

“OK, I’m going to cauterize the marking, sister.” The member of the church grabs a finer-than-normal red-hot poker from a nearby fireplace. “Ready?”

“Yes, for the glory of Scath.” Responds Angela.

“For the glory of Scath.”

The verbal salute of The Church of Blood being her only warning, the member of the church brings the poker to the wound on her neck.

She hisses once more, barley betraying how painful the cauterization is.

This pain is nothing.

Nothing compared to what I’ve had to endure.

To say Angela Roth had hard life would be a massive understatement.

Born of an absent of father and a mother who passed away during delivery, she was born into being a ward of the state in Gotham City.

Ever since she can remember, she’s been passed around from one orphanage to the next (and a few adoptive parents).

Angela, for one reason or another, was the constant the target of physical and verbal abuse of the other orphans, the adults who were in charge at the orphanages and a few of the households she was adopted by.

As a result, she became completely numb to most things around her by the time she was a teenager.

She was withdrawn, and hesitant even trying to connect with other people.

At times it seemed as if she was merely a passenger in her own life.

Once, she in a rare showing of self-expression had gotten a 3rd eye chakra stone piercing on her forehead. Unfortunately for her, the family who’s care she was placed in at the time was a staunchly conservative one. The small body modification was met with swift, loud and violent reprisal from the family’s patriarch. Which left a scar on her forehead that hasn’t completely healed to this day.

This had been the last straw for the young Angela Roth.

She had run away, abandoning the system and familial structures that had failed her time and again.

But life on the streets of Gotham hadn’t been any kinder.

She’d managed to avoid the fate that befell most young girls lost to the streets, but she’d still managed to fall into drugs in order to cope with her despondent life. To fuel her habit she’d boosted, pick-pocketed and worked regrettably as a waitress at both The Stacked Deck and later a bartender at The Iceberg Lounge.

She’d once even ran afoul of the city’s resident billionaire, Bruce Wayne. She’d attempted to pick his pocket one time while working at The Iceberg Lounge. He’d recognized her from the lounge, almost immediately knowing what happened and confronted her. He’d thankfully allowed the dejected teenager to keep the spoils of her plunder and didn’t even turn her into the police or her boss on the condition he take his card.

“Should you need anything at all don’t hesitate to the number on card,” he said, as he handed to specialized black card with gold lettering to the young lady.*

Either out of pride, stupidity or what-not, she never bothered to called him.

She was eventually arrested on possession and tried to serve her time.

She wasn’t sure if it was out of happenstance or purposeful.

But she had crossed paths with Bruce Wayne once more.

It was by his petitioning the court that prevented her from doing significant prison time and getting the necessary help to kick her drug habit.

There she met a charismatic man on the staff named Abel.

Despite being only a C.O, Abel had the respect and admiration of staff and inmate alike.

His friendly brown eyes and inviting smile were a constant source of comfort during this time for her.

To her, he was like the big brother or father figure she’d been waiting for her entire life.

He’d coaxed her out of her shell.

She even credited him for helping her eventually rid herself of her addiction.

During the closing weeks and days of her sentence, Abel had propositioned her to join him.

“Angela, will you join others like herself; those brothers and sisters cast aside because they fail to meet the plastic expectations of this society. Will you join me in The Church of Blood?” He asked emphatically.

She didn’t hesitate.

“Sister?” Asked the member of the church. “The mark is set, as is everything else. Are you prepared to meet our lord?”

“Yes.” She replied simply, throwing her hair behind her.

The short walk to the alter did little to expel the nervous energy within Angela. Her eyes met Abel’s, which is enough to quell most of the nerves within her. She joins him at the candle-beleaguered alter just in front of him.

He’s wearing regal red robes befitting of the archbishop of a church. The robe has a white cross going across the torso, the ‘t’ of which is situated at the chest. He also has a silver necklace, with a black and red medallion at the end. The red of the medallion belonging to stylized red ‘S’ at its center. The remaining members of the church are dressed similarly colored robes with the with cross and no necklaces. She herself is dressed in a royal blue cloak, with a long sleeveless black dress with no designs or markings. Her assorted brothers and sisters quietly chanting.

“The mark, Sister Angela. Show me.” Requests Abel.

She obliges, turning her back to him and parting her hair behind her neck.

“Perfect,” he says simply. He places his hands on the shoulders of Angela. “Sister, at my side.”

He puts his hands together chanting in rhythm with the fellow members of the church.

“Veniet dominus noster fructum. Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus. Veniet dominus noster fructum. Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus.”** They chant.

Abel’s voice then booms above the rest of his brothers and sisters.

“Veniet dominus noster fructum! Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus!”

At once a strong wind propels threw the church to the alter, blowing out all the candles. As fast as they went out, they reignited ten times as hot and bright as they were before. The flames have taken on a bright red hue. The fires of the candles leave the wicks, swirling at middle of the alter right in front of Abel and Angela.

As if one had a mind of its own, an ember from the cyclone of fire hurls itself at Angela. She collapses, as she’s embedded in a hue matching the flaming cyclone. Her ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ continue to chant, completely oblivious to her plight. The ember burns her intensely, but miraculously leaves her clothes, hair and skin unmarked. Eventually the glow of the flames begins to recede to the stylized ‘S’ carved in the back of her neck, the pain fading with it.

Her brothers and sisters have stopped chanting.

As Angela tries to find her footing, the flaming cyclone begins to come to a stop. They then begin to shape and couture into the shape of being. The fires are then expelled as it appears the being behind the expels the flames from its body, revealing the large figure of what’s supposed to be their lord. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, his angry red arms revealed by short sleeves of his top. They immediately go to his chest as he folds them. But what Angela takes notice of first is his eyes. His cold black sclera, and dimly glowing iris’ take in his surroundings and seem to give off an air of disappointment. His brows are creased seemingly in the same disappointment in his eyes, the crease continuing to his flat wide nose. She also notices his face, which is framed by shoulder length white hair, is as red as folded arms. His black lips are turned in a snarl, revealing what appears to be sharp looking fangs.

His eyes meet hers, and a look of shock and recognition hit his face. It returns to a neutral expression as he proclaims loudly: “Do you people honestly have nothing better to do!”

Murmurs among the members of the church begin to overtake the room.

“Lord Scath!” Screams Abel, “it is with great reverence I welcome you to the current congregation of the Church of Blood.” He gestures to Angela, “We offer this young lady here as tribute for you, Lord Scath.”

“Tribute…?” Exclaims Angela. She’s immediately seized by both wrists by members of the church. “Release me! Now!” She yelled futilely struggling against her now captors.

“Where’s the current Brother Blood?” Asks he who was identified as Scath.

“Sebastian’s abandoned us. He’s taken to training and recruiting young metahumans for his purposes some time ago. For all intents and purposes, I’m the defacto leader of the church.”

Scath once more turns his vison to Angela. “This young lady, who is she?”

“She’s an unremarkable,” says Abel. The sting of his words piercing Angela, as his looks at her with new found contempt. “Some drug addled urchin we cleaned up for you, my lord. She’s yours to sire…”

“Release her.” Interrupts Scath. “Release her, now.” He commands, as Angela continues to struggle against her captors.

Angela’s former ‘brothers’ seem stupefied at being addressed by their lord, looking between Scath and Abel for some kind of confirmation from the two.

“Fine,” mutters Scath. Angela’s two captors are then enveloped in a black aura and lifted into the air by some unseen force. The aura begins to brighten as the men start to scream in pain, the screams intensifying the brighter the aura glows. The auras reach a sun-like brightness, all present covering their eyes from the light.

Theirs screams have stopped. And when her eyes are uncovered all traces of the two members of the church are gone.

And she can’t help but realize the vague smell of burnt meat on her nostrils.

“You,” he addresses Angela, “behind me, now!”

Not wishing to share the fate of her ‘brothers’, she complies right away. “Please don’t kill me,” she whispers in a small voice.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

“Lord Scath! There’s no need to spare this woman the dignity. Do with her what you will, so the prophecy may commence.” Says Abel.

Scath sighs audibly. “I’m guessing you were the current Brother Blood’s understudy?” Replied Scath.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?” Said able, irritably.

“The Bloods haven’t changed much through the generations.”

“Don’t talk of that fool to me. I am the archbishop of the church! I will lead our brothers and sisters in these most trying times!”

Scath eyeballs Abel; seemingly unimpressed by what he sees, he replies: “You are more like your masters than realize. Taking in the naive and innocent, using them for your own purposes. And discarding them the moment it becomes convenient. You are more like your masters than you realize.”

Abel doesn’t reply to being dressed down by the demon lord.

“The young lady and I will be taking our leave now.” Scath’s iris’s glow briefly. “Unless anyone has any objections?” He says eyeballing everyone else at alter.

It seems any objections are wisely held back.

“Great,” says Scath, “young lady, let’s get out here.”

Angela makes her way to Scath’s side, readying to leave. The assorted members of the church part as the couple makes their way through.

“Do you have anything you’d like to take with you? I highly doubt we’ll be making a return here.” Scath addressed Angela.

“Um...yes my lord. I’ll lead you to my quarters.”

“You know don’t have to address me so formally, um. I’m sorry, young lady. What is your name?”

“Angela, lord Scath. Angela Roth.”

“Trigon.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Trigon. Scath is more like a family name, or to be more precise, the name of my clan. And please, you  don’t have to  call me ‘lord.’ I haven’t been a lord in very long time.”

A tense silence sits between the pair, as Angela packs her belongings.

“So,” begins Trigon, “this going to be a little awkward, but do you know what that ritual was for Angela?”

“I was told it was to summon you,” she begins as she continues to pack, “ your summoning was to strengthen the faith of the members of the church and to quell any nonbelief that may have existed.” She laughs sullenly to herself as she shakes her head. She places her gaze to Trigon. “I guess the latter was achieved. I was to be you emissary, which was why I branded with your mark.” She turns around, parting her hair relevealing the mark of Scath on the back of her neck. “Though you’re not exactly what I was told you’d look like.”

“Oh, I’ll have you know I’m quite the looker, at least mother says so.” Replies Trigon, indignantly.

“I didn’t say you weren’t handsome, lord…I mean Trigon.” She said in small voice blushing, looking away from him. “Wait… the ritual. Why did you ask me about it?”

Trigon begins to laugh awkwardly as he scratches his cheek. “Well it’s pretty convenient you find me handsome, ‘cause that ritual kind of, sort of made us,” he mumbles the remaining statement, trialing off.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?”

He mumbles one more time.

“Could you please speak up!?”

“We’re married now. There, satisfied?”

“So now what? You drag me to hell live out the rest of my life in wedded bliss?” Snaps a despondent Angela.

“No that’d be a bad idea. I’d have to hear from Neron and Augustus about…” Trigon trails off once more. “Actually, that’s not important. What’s important is that you now fall under my protection. I won’t hold this union over your head, but you must know; you are forever bound to me. That mark on your neck ensures that.”

Angela’s eyes begin to water as what Trigon said begins to take hold and what this means begins to make itself clear.

Wife to some kind of demon lord of indiscriminate origin. I guess it’s a step-up from emissary. She laments bitterly. What will become of me? Will he incinerate me like my brothers who tried to hold me down at the alter? Is he benevolent? He’s shown me kindness thus far.

Angela begins to openly weep, crossing her arms over her chest; the gesture bringing her very little comfort.

Trigon closes the distance between them. He cups her cheek, tilting her face up wiping the tears from her cheek. His caress is gentler than would expect from someone his size. She nuzzles into his touch, it oddly bringing her comfort.

“Did they do this to you?” He asks running his other hand over the scar on her forehead.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I can heal…”

“Just get me out of here, Trigon!” She interrupts. “I’m just ready for this day to be over.”

“Okay.” He says calmly. “Okay. Just finish packing and I’ll take you…some place.”

He backs away from her, walking to a wall leaning on it as Angela finishes getting her things in order.

His eyes go to a black card on the floor; its edges rounded and crinkled. It’s clearly seen better days. He leaves his perch on the wall going straight for the card. He takes it off the ground, reading the stylized gold letters; his eyes shimmering in recognition.

“Alright, got I’ve everything important here. Oh, that old thing.”

“Do you know, Bruce?”

“Not really. He did a few favors for me, for what I’ll never know. I didn’t deserve his consideration. You heard Abel, I’m an unremarkable. I my have even be less than that. He gave me that card, telling me if I ever needed anything to call him. There’s more than a few times I’ve held that card in my hand, wondering if I made the right decision not calling him.” She sighs. “Do you know him? I can’t imagine so. I mean what would a demon lord need with an acquaintance like him anyway?”

“You’d honestly be surprised, my dear.”

His armored footsteps thump loudly as he makes his approach.

“It’s as you said Lord Augustus.” Abel addressed. “He refused to sire the gem on the spot. You’re sure he’ll mate the woman eventually?”

“I’m sure,” he cracks a smirk, “I sent you in her direction for a reason. There’s something about her he won’t be able to resist. My dear brother is hopelessly predictable, but that’s not a concern right now. I’m more than prepared for the long game. What concerns me now is your devotion to the cause and your congregation’s loyalty; it still lies with Trigon even though he’s long since abandoned the church. I’m not up to entertaining reconditioning. Luckily I’m able to quell these concerns in one swing.” Augustus stretches one arm in front of, his open palm facing the ceiling. A black orb manifests itself, eventually forming the shape of sword. He then grasps the weapon by the hilt, offering it to Abel. “Show me your devotion Abel. Your lord demands blood. The blood of those fool enough to place their faith in Trigon.”

Abel takes the blade offered to him, “For the glory of Augustus.”

*I might make a one shot outlining this interaction. I guess it depends on the reaction to this.

**Translated from latin: Come forth our lord. Accept of our offering, so the gem maybe sired.

Read this and more at: https://www.fanfiction.net/~olboypacman