#i’m getting the help i need now though; so no worries!

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 7

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.9k

Note : This chapter was quite nice to write. I’ve never had siblings but I’ve had people who I thought of as siblings so I hope the work translates to the reader and Yelena. Enjoy! 

Series Masterlist

“How did You Find Me?”

Tuesday.

Eventually, it was time for you to move back to your apartment. You knew it was coming, but the knowledge didn’t make it easier. 

You had spent far more time at Bucky’s than you intended. His presence had become a comfort to the quiet confusion you occupied.

The day of the move, Bucky was there, as he had always been.

As you stood in the foreign space of your apartment, he was there— helping you rebuild the space a version of you once called home.

The two of you worked in near silence, the kind that had become comfortable. 

Every now and then, he’d ask where something should go. You wouldn’t know, so you just pointed at where you thought made the most sense.

There was something methodical about the process of unpacking and rearranging. Back at the museum, you loved cataloging, so this should have been soothing. But it wasn’t. 

As you placed your clothes back into drawers and rearranged ornamental things on the shelves, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were putting together a puzzle with missing pieces.

Bucky didn’t ask how you were, didn’t try to force a conversation you weren’t ready for. 

He just helped. 

He dusted the shelves you hadn’t touched in months. He wiped down the counters that gathered layers of dust. Every now and then, you caught him checking to make sure you were okay. 

By the time the apartment was mostly back in order, the sun had set. 

This space, once yours, felt like it belonged to a stranger. This sense of detachment was unsettling, like you were an outsider looking in.

Bucky moved towards the door, though he hadn’t opened it yet. He stood there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slightly torn jacket.

“It looks like it used to,” he said quietly. You glanced at him, then back at the room. You nodded, trusting that it did.

Bucky took a small step toward the door. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say goodbye, but his eyes told you he didn’t really want to go. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said finally. He stood there, one foot in your apartment and the other in the hallway.

You felt a flutter of panic that made your chest tighten. The thought of him leaving— of being alone in this empty space— was unbearable. 

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “Do you think… Can you stay? M-maybe for a couple weeks?”

Bucky blinked, surprised by your request. 

For a moment, you worried you’d said too much, that you’d crossed a line.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be alone yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

The tension in his muscles melted away as he took a slow step toward you.  

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “Of course.” He said, “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

Wednesday.

Exhaustion finally pulled you into a restless sleep, but you didn't find any peace. 

It was the concrete again, heavy against your body. It collapsed around you, trapping you in a suffocating darkness. The cold scrape of rubble, the crushing weight, your muffled screams—  it was too much to process. You were desperate to escape. You were struggling to breathe. 

Then, you saw a tall figure walking towards you— Bucky! 

But the walls began to close in completely before he could get to you.

Suddenly, you felt rough hands on your shoulders, shaking you firmly. The world around you started to dissolve. 

You found yourself fighting against the intrusion.

You swung in self defense, fist connecting with something solid. A sharp grunt of pain finally pulled you back into the present. 

Jolting awake, you realized you were in your bedroom. Bucky crouched next to you, clutching his jaw.

“Oh, God—Bucky! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—” you stammered, horrified.

His eyes softened relieved that you were awake, despite the slight bruise. 

He waved it off.” It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the punch surprisingly well. “I’ve had worse.”

You looked at the clock on your bedside table that read 01.00 AM. 

Had you only been asleep for two hours? 

“You were having a nightmare,” he told you.

You sat up, clutching the blankets to your chest. You couldn’t remember all the details, but terror settled in your bones anyway.

“I’m gonna stay here,” he said. His voice was calm, almost casual, almost waiting for your permission. ��Just in case.”

Maybe you should just tell him to go back to the guest room, brush it all off with a forced laugh, or apologize profusely for punching him.

But the idea of being alone again, left to wrestle with the dark corners of your mind, was unbearable. 

You managed a nod. 

He eased himself beside you. He stayed above the covers, respecting the boundary between your space and his.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Bucky simply leaned back, propping himself on one arm, his other hand close to yours but not quite touching.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. It was too soon to put the fear into words. Bucky nodded, and you were grateful for it. He leaned back, his head resting against the headboard.

After a few moments, you let out a shaky breath.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you let your eyes shut, listening to the calm, reassuring sound of his breathing. Each rise and fall of his chest became an anchor, something to focus on beyond the remnants of your nightmare. 

The bed dipped slightly as he adjusted, inching closer. His human hand laid next to yours, a quiet offer of comfort if you wanted it.

Finally, you shifted closer, curling into the warmth of his presence. His arm wrapped around you, gentle and protective.

You didn’t think you could fall asleep again, but with him there, the crushing weight in your chest began to ease.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Saturday.

You started feeling at home again. 

As your eyes drifted to the former winter soldier readjusting flowers in your vase, you started to think that  maybe home didn't mean a place. Maybe home, to you, was a person.

Each morning he made you coffee, handing you a mug without a word. He offered to help with laundry. Slowly, he started moving his things here. His clothes. His toothbrush. His shoes.

He didn’t hover, but he was always around, as if he could tell when the walls began to feel like they were closing in. Sometimes, he’d catch you staring out the window, lost in thought, and he’d nudge you gently. Other times, he’d suggest small things to keep you anchored—a walk around the block, a stop at the corner store for groceries, or a quiet evening watching old movies. 

Today, you had trailed your fingers on his jaw, looking at the spot you had punched him in your sleep several days ago. You were amazed at how the bruise that formed was no longer there. Guess it made sense— super soldier healing and all. 

If only the bruises in your mind healed that quickly.

The nightmares didn’t vanish, but they started to lose their edge. When they came, they didn’t feel quite as suffocating, partly because when you’d wake, he’d be there.

He stayed in the guest room most nights, but if you needed him, he’d be there without question, laying with you until morning.

He tried to act as if he was happy with this being casual, being platonic. 

Sure.

Sunday.

Today, you found yourselves on the couch after a long day of training. Bucky had brought over a couple of old records he’d picked up from his storage room, and you both took turns picking the next one to play. 

At one point, you caught him watching you. 

When you looked over, he didn’t look away, didn’t try to hide the way he was studying your how your eyes lingered on his. 

After a moment, Bucky’s expression grew thoughtful.

“You know, that nightmare you keep having... with the concrete ?” He paused, meeting your eyes, weighing whether he should continue. “That’s actually what happened during the mission.”

You felt your chest tighten. "What do you mean?"

“I was part of the rescue team that went in to get you out.” He took a steadying breath. “I was the one who found you underneath the rubble.”

“You… saved me,” you whispered, trying to piece everything together. “I must’ve hit my head before you got there. I think I— I’ve lost them by then..”

He nodded, “You said you see me in your dreams sometimes,” His voice softened. “I was probably the first person you saw after hitting your head.”

Oh.

Bucky had been your first new memory in four years, the first face you’d seen after the darkness. All the quiet pull you’d felt toward him suddenly made sense. 

The strange safety you felt with Bucky—finally made sense. For once, something made sense.

It’s been so fucking long since anything made sense.

Tears slid down your cheeks, slow at first, then everything spilled over. 

The sobs came hard. When your shoulders shook, Bucky pulled you into his arms without hesitation. His hand moved gently along your back as the record skipped quietly in the background. 

He didn’t say a word. He just held you, knowing how much you needed this release. 

When the tears finally eased, you managed a weak, watery laugh. “So,” you joked. “I basically imprinted on you like a little gosling.”

He chuckled. “Lucky me.”

Monday.

The museum was unusually quiet, just the soft hum of ventilation and the muffled steps of a few wandering visitors. Maybe the laugh of a couple school kids pointing at the Homo Erectus display. 

You said hi to Alex before making your way in. 

You and Yelena moved through the halls. She had suggested the museum for your post-training catch-up today, knowing how familiar this place was to you. 

As you strolled through the Ancient Greek exhibit, you pointed at a sculpture that caught your attention.

"That's Mnemosyne," you said, "The goddess of memory."

Yelena looked at the statue with a curious squint. “There’s actually one for that?”

You nodded, feeling a faint sense of purpose as you explained. “In Orphism, which is this really interesting ancient Greek tradition, they believed the newly dead would drink from the River Lethe, which would make them forget their past lives. But if you drank from the river of memory—Mnemosyne—you’d remember everything and be free from the cycle of reincarnation.”

She turned to you, giving a small, almost mischievous smile. “And here you are, teaching me about memory after you’ve lost four years of it. Irony’s got a sense of humour.”

You chuckled, though the joke stung. “Drinking from Mnemosyne’s river would be pretty useful right about now.” Your tone was light, but the longing was unmistakable.

Yelena looked back at the statue. “Maybe you’re not supposed to get those years back,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe… they’re not important.”

There was a comfort in her words, as if forgetting allowed you to live in the present. To be new. To be whoever you decided you wanted to be.

After a while, you both settled on a bench in a quieter part of the gallery. The moment felt calm, with only the gaze of painted portraits and ancient relics to overhear you. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you started, the words slipping out quietly. “It’s about Bucky.”

Her brow lifted slightly, leaning in. “Oh?”

“He’s been staying with me.” You took a deep breath. “Sometimes he stays in my room. He’s been helping me regulate my nightmares.”

Yelena listened, her features falling as she gave you a small nod of encouragement.

"I think…” you trailed off, heart fluttering nervously, “I think I’m falling in love with him.”

Yelena’s expression stayed steady, but her eyes sharpened a bit. She nodded, but her face was unreadable.

“I’m happy for you,” she said, though there was a hint of hesitation that you didn’t catch. “You sound… at peace with him.”

Relief washed over you in waves. Yelena’s support mattered to you in ways you didn’t quite understand.

“I feel safe with him,” you admitted, a smile spreading across your face. “I don’t know how to tell him yet, but… it’s just nice to feel… something real.”

She reached across, giving your hand a small squeeze. “You deserve to feel safe.” 

Her fingers lingered hesitantly before she let go.

An edge flicked behind Yelena’s eyes, a tension you couldn’t quite place. You thought it was just worry, the way she’d been looking out for you ever since everything went blank. 

But her mind was piecing together things she knew about Bucky that you’d forgotten— that she wasn’t sure you were ready to hear.

As you shared more— about how Bucky had held you through the worst of your nightmares, how he stayed without ever asking anything in return— she listened. 

She didn’t want to shatter the peace you’d found, not when you were finally beginning to reclaim your life. 

Still, she knew there were parts of Bucky that could change everything if they came to light.

She had thought, naively, that Bucky would tell you. Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment

But the way you spoke about him made it clear he wouldn’t.

Wednesday.

Yelena found Sam in the gym, his back to her as he worked through the last of his reps. 

Sam took a seat on the bench, ready to hear her out. 

She didn’t waste any time. She said your name, voice barely above a whisper.

Sam knew Yelena was protective of you, especially now, after everything you’d been through. "Go on," he coaxed.

Yelena’s hands clenched into fists. 

"She’s falling in love with Barnes, Sam." Her voice wavered, and she looked away for a second, like the thought of you being hurt was something she couldn’t bear. "But she doesn’t know what he was like before."

Sam’s shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he started. “But I don’t think he’s just pretending to care."

“But she doesn’t know.” Yelena’s voice cracked. "She doesn’t know he’s… he’s just trying to undo the damage he caused in the first place. I can’t let her fall for someone who’s hiding her own past from her." She took a shaky breath, blinking back the tears. 

You were the first person who came as close as a sister to her since Natasha... and losing the last four years you had together had been harder on her than she'd like to admit. Losing you to grief, losing your trust? That would break Yelena.  "She deserves the whole story. She deserves a choice.”

“It’s not that simple.” Sam looked away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I saw him. In the hospital, before she woke up. He was there, holding her hand, talking to her for days as if she could hear. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t let her be alone."

Bucky had faced what she couldn’t bring herself to — he’d seen you at your lowest, at the brink of death. When Yelena first heard what had happened, she had locked herself to waste away in her apartment, sinking to the floor as sobs destroyed her body. 

She couldn’t go to see you— how could she?

She couldn’t bring herself to see even a hint of bruising on you. Couldn’t bear to witness the blood pooling on your head, the cuts on your limbs.

Hearing Sam tell her what happened to you had reminded her of losing Natasha.

The fear had paralyzed her. She couldn’t bear to see you unconscious, clinging to life by a fragile thread.

She hadn’t been there then, but Bucky had.

"It doesn’t change what he’s hiding.” She murmured, barely audible. “If he really cares about her, then he should be brave enough to tell her the truth.” Her voice trembled. “If she finds out he’s only with her to make up for his mistakes, to… to fix some guilt inside him, it’ll destroy her.”

No one’s allowed to destroy her, she thought, not after everything she had been through. 

“It's not just guilt.” Sam insisted. "Every time I see them together, it doesn’t look like he’s trying to atone. I know Bucky much better than you do. It looks like he’d finally realised what he’d— that he’d… that he loves her.”

No, Yelena thought. She knew he always had feelings for you but there's no way he loves you more than I do. 

She’d been there first; she knew you better than anyone, knew the sound of your laughter and the quiet sadness you tried to hide. She had loved you, the way she’d loved Natasha—like family. You were her sister in every way but blood.

But now, watching the way you talked about Bucky, the way he seemed to carry your pain as if it were his own... 

Maybe he did love you more, in ways she couldn’t, in ways she’d never even considered. 

“He still needs to tell her the truth,” her voice was much softer now,  though no less fierce. “He owes her that much."

“Then talk to him,” Sam nodded. “Make him see what’s at stake.”

“And if he doesn’t tell her?” Yelena blinked. "I can’t watch her fall apart. Not again."

“Neither can I.” Sam’s voice strained as he packed his things into his duffel bag, "But let him try. Give him more time.”

Time.

Yelena knew better than most people that time was just a cruel joke running circles around mortals like her.

And she was getting impatient.

-to be continued…

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[just-dreaming-marvel]

Cold ~ Part 2

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / CHRONIC ILLNESS MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,020ish

Summary: Logan becomes overprotective of you.

Notes: I hope this part makes some sense… I got sick yet again so I'm really craving someone to take care of me.

Cold ~ Part 1

Logan became a master at taking care of you during an arthritic flare-up. The consequence of that was that he also became a master at doing everything he could to make sure that you didn’t flare up. When is why he was marching towards you, with a clear look of anger.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you were stretching in the Danger Room.

“Uh, stretching,” you responded, continuing your movements. “I have a training session with Scott in a few minutes.”

“Not anymore. You’re not training.”

“Logan, I can’t gain more strength in my powers without training.”

“You’ve trained twice already this week.”

“And my current goal is three times.”

“You’re not ready for it yet.”

“I think I know what I’m ready for, Logan.”

“No. You don’t. I can sense that you’re overdoing it.”

“I’m feeling fine. I’m going to train.”

“Everything okay here?” Scott asked, feeling the tension as he entered the room.

“Yes.” / “No.”

“Okay, then,” Scott said, slowly backing up. 

“I’m training, Logan,” you argued, standing your ground. 

“Like hell you are,” he grumbled. 

The two of you stared each other down, trying to see which one of you would break first, though you both knew the answer. With a scoff and a stop of your foot, you grabbed your training bag and threw it at Logan.

“Since I’m so weak, carry that back to my locker,” you huffed, marching off.

Logan sighed, shoulders slumping. He didn’t want to be the bad guy in your life; he was just worried. He also simply cared deeply for you in a way he hadn’t cared for anyone in far too long. He hated seeing you in pain and would do anything to prevent the pain you were forced into constantly. Logan had even talked to Hank about somehow using his healing mutation to help you. Hank said it was impossible. So Logan was forced to keep a careful eye on you, no matter if that meant you were often mad at him. 

~~~

You did your best to avoid Logan for the next few days. But no matter how hard you tried, Logan was there, stopping you from training, or carrying heavy items, or using your mutation. The anger was festering inside of you, and it all came to a boiling point when you were called into a mission briefing. Everyone was already in the briefing room when you slipped in. You hung back by the door, trying to prevent Logan from seeing you just yet.

“The base that you will be infiltrating is in an interesting location,” Charles explained. The table everyone was surrounding changed to show the base. “It is several hundred feet down in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Long Island. Due to their security system, there is only one way to reach it.” Charles’ eyes fell on you, causing the rest of the team to turn and look.

“No,” Logan immediately said. “No fucking way.”

“Logan, Y/N has been training for this. She has known about this mission for weeks now and is prepared.”

“Don’t care. She’s not a part of this. Find a different way.”

“Do I get any say in this?” You piped up.

“No,” Logan quickly responded, still focusing on Charles. “She’s not going. It’s too dangerous.”

You were growing angrier and angrier, forcing yourself to clench your fists as you felt the water pipes in the wall begin to tremble. Jean noticed and came over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t we take a break and reconvene later?” Ororo suggested.

“Later or not, Y/N is not going,” Logan argued.

“It’s not your choice!” You yelled. “It’s mine! I can do what needs to be done.”

“No, you can’t! You are too weak.”

A few gasps were heard throughout the room.

“Weak?” You repeated, both hurt and angered. “That’s what you think of me?” Suddenly, the pipes burst in the walls.

“Enough!” Charles commanded. “Y/N will be participating in the mission. And you will all be leaving at nightfall.”

You rushed out of the room, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall. You could hear loud footsteps behind you, already knowing who it was. A large hand caught your wrist, forcing you to stop, but you didn’t turn around.

“You can’t go,” Logan’s voice was stern but slightly wavered at the end. 

“You’re not in charge of me, Logan,” you replied, trying not to let him know how you were feeling. “I am going on this mission, no matter if you think I’m weak or not.” You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but his grip only tightened. “Let me go, Logan.”

“Not until you drop out of the mission.”

You finally looked at him, anger replacing hurt. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Y/N—“

With a flick of your free hand, the pipes in the hallway walls broke. The water shot out of the walls and pummeled Logan, throwing him back and away from you. You were breathing heavily as you stopped the water. Not wanting Logan to see how hard that was for you, you quickly left.

~~~

The jet ride was completely silent. You grabbed the pilot seat next to Scott so that you didn’t have to look at Logan. You could feel Logan’s eyes staring daggers into you.

“We’re here,” Scott announced, having the jet hover over where the base was located. He looked over at you. “You ready?”

“Yes,” you responded, determined.

“Great.” Scott stood. “Everyone get tethered up, then Y/N will clear a channel once everyone is ready.”

“I’m not going down,” Logan said. “I’m staying with Y/N.”

“We need you down there, Logan,” Jean said. “We’ll all be connected through the comms.”

“I can handle myself,” you added. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

You could see Logan’s jaw clench tighter. He let out a grunt before focusing on getting tethered up. Once you were sure they were all ready, you opened the bottom of the jet up. You took a deep breath before stretching your arms towards the ocean water and creating an open circular channel.

“Let’s go!” Scott said, jumping down first. Jean and Ororo quickly followed, with Logan lingering behind, watching you.

“Go, Logan!” You shouted. 

He watched you for a few more seconds before jumping down with the rest. You ground your teeth together as you began to feel the strain of using your mutation like this.

“Alright, Y/N,” Scott said over the comms. “We’re in. We’ll let you know when we need the channel opened.”

“Got it,” you responded.

As you let the water go, you stumbled back, falling to the ground. You could feel the achiness start to set into your joints. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe you were weak. The jet suddenly shook as it was hit. You fumbled over to the pilot’s seat, trying to steer the jet away.

“Guys!” You shouted into the comms. “We have a situation up here. I’m being fired on!”

“What?!” A chorus of voices yelled over the comms.

“It looks like they got a few of their own jets in the sky.” The jet rocked as it got hit again. “Shit!”

“Y/N?!” Logan’s worried voice flooded through the speakers. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You quickly punched a few buttons. “I’ve gone into stealth mode. Hopefully, that holds them for a little bit, but that means you have to free those mutants fast.”

It was another ten minutes before Scott gave you the signal to reopen the channel. You reopened the bottom doors and focused all your energy on opening the channel. Unfortunately, that also meant that the opposing side could find the jet. The jet shook yet again with another hit.

“Hurry!” You urged. “We’re open for hits!”

Scott and Jean came up the tethered lines first, each with a mutant with them. Ororo was next, two mutants with her, and then Logan with the last one. He could immediately sense that you were hurting more than the strain on your face was giving away. Untethering himself, Logan headed for you, but the jet shook once again before he could get to you. You released the hold you had on the water as you flew up and rammed into the ceiling. You let out a cry of pain. Logan moved fast, sliding as he barely caught you before you hit the floor.

“I’ve got you, I've got you,” he whispered, holding you tightly against him.

“Hang on!” Scott shouted. “We’re going to get out of here!”

Everything hurt inside. You couldn’t even hold onto Logan, just laying against him limply as you cried. Logan did his best to hold you steady as Scott flew the jet every which way to avoid getting completely shot down. Jean ended up using her powers to keep Logan and you still as everyone’s hearts were breaking at the cries and whimpers of pain coming out of you.

It took far too long for Logan’s liking for Scott to lose the other jets and return to the mansion. As gently as Logan could manage, he carried you out of the jet and to your room. He laid you down before moving around the room to grab a heating pad, medication, and a change of clothes for you.

“You were right,” you whispered. If Logan didn’t have enhanced hearing, he would have missed it.

“About what?” He responded, bringing all the items over to you.

“I’m weak…”

“No, I— I didn’t mean it that way, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you did… and yes, I am… I shouldn’t even be on the team. I can’t even handle one mission.”

Logan sighed, trying to get his thoughts together before he spoke. You took it as a sign that he let you win. With a whine, you sat up.

“You can go,” you told him. “I can take care of myself.”

“No,” he responded gruffly.

“Logan,” you sighed. “I’ve taken care of myself before… flare-ups can’t stop me. I’ve got to keep living.”

“There. Right there. That’s why you’re the strongest person I have ever met.”

“But you said—“

“I know what I said, and I… I’m sorry. You are not weak. I just… I, God, I’m terrible at this.” His hand raked through his hair. “I—Sweetheart, I care so much about you. I am constantly worried about you, but it’s out of…”

“Out of what, Lo?”

He gave you a knowing look. “I think you know what.”

“I think you need to say it so I don’t go assuming things.”

“I… I love you, sweetheart. And I just hate to see you in pain. I wish that I could take it from you, and trust me, I asked Hank about it, and I—”

You winced as you placed your hand on top of Logan’s mouth to stop his rambling. “I love you, too. And I know that I haven’t said it enough, but thank you for taking care of me.”

His hand carefully wrapped around your wrist as he kissed your hand and moved it down to your lap. “Always.” He looked at you, wanting to kiss you, but he could sense the pain you were in. “What do you need?”

You looked away. “I… I can’t change.”

“Alright.”

“I need some heat.”

“I grabbed your heating pad.” He held it up.

“Could you hold me?”

“Are you sure? I’m a lot heavier than you and I—“

“And your body is my personal heating pad. Please, Logan.”

“How do you want me?”

You winced as you moved to lie down. Logan’s hand hovered over your body, not knowing exactly what to do to help. You moved onto your side, back facing Logan. He got the hint and carefully maneuvered around you so that he was the big spoon and you were the little spoon.

“Like this?” He muttered nervously.

“It’s perfect,” you replied.

“You sure. I can—“

“Logan. Just hold me.”

“Okay.” He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck before resting his head there. “I’ll hold you as long as you need, sweetheart.”

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 22

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21

1.6k words

While you absolutely needed summer clothes you got the feeling that Bira had something extra in mind. At least your husband seemed to like it!

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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“Thanks for helping me with this” you said as Bira lead you through the busy streets.

“Of course! I’m not going to let you drop dead from the heat! I’m just happy Zen’jan waved me down to let me know” Bira responded.

It was quite a walk to the shop, tucked into a corner of the city that was mostly minotaurs, though Bira assured you several times her friend who owed the shop would be able to help.

“Hoonti!” Bira practically yelled as the two of you entered the shop.

The minotaur woman behind the counter looked and smiled, “Bira!” and the two quickly launched into an animated conversation in orcish.

“This is Hoonti, a long time friend of mine” Bira introduced, “and one of the best tailors I know. She’s going to take your measurements and ask a few questions and get started on making you a few things to start with”.

“Sounds good!” you answered.

Hoonti got right to work, buzzing about you with her measuring tape while Bira translated her questions.

“Any preferences for colors? Or any colors you absolutely don’t want?” Bira translated.

“Nothing too bright” you said.

“That’s no fun!” said Bira.

Bira was almost always in bright colors and clothes with fancy trim or details, though Zen always dressed pretty simply. He seemed to be the odd one out though, most of the trolls in the city seemed to be more like Bira with bright, highly detailed clothes and lots of jewelry. The closet thing to jewelry you ever saw Zen wear were the gold bands at the base of his tusks, though he had gotten you a few bracelets and necklaces.

“Okay okay okay, nothing too bright but let me pick one outfit for you, please!” Bira practically begged.

“One outfit” you repeated firmly.

“Just one! And I promise you’ll like it, and so will Zen’jan! It’ll make him happy”.

You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t worry, it’s just something traditional but it needs to be bright! Just trust me” she said.

“Sure”.

Many rounds of questions later and Bira and you were leaving the shop with the promise that Hoonti would drop the clothes off in a few days when she was done.

“So, you and Zen’jan” Bira began.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“He seems a lot happier than usual recently”

You could not help but smile a bit over that. There had been a shift in Zen over the last week, he was more relaxed around the house and was comfortable taking up space. He sat and stood up straight, no longer always trying to make himself smaller, he lounged and stretched out across the bed, he constantly showed you little affections like a hand on your shoulder or waist for a moment when he walked past or a quick nuzzle where he could.

“It’s been a good week” you smiled.

“Well, it’s good to hear that. He’s been doing better in general since you got married, he doesn’t look so tired and drained all the time anymore. He’s never been the best at taking care of himself, though it looks like he’s getting better about it though now that he has someone else to take care of”.

Bira showed you a few more of her favorite places around the city before walking you home.

“I’m happy he has you” Bira told you as she hugged you.

“I’m happy I have him too” you told her.

Three days later Bira and Hoonti showed up in the middle of the day laden with new clothes for you. Skirts, pants, shirts, and dresses of varying lengths, colors, and styles and much better suited for the weather than anything you brought.

They both fawned over you while you tried stuff on, it felt silly with how they fussed over you, but it was still fun.

“Ok ok, last one!” Bira called and handed you the last outfit.

It was several pieces all in a rich shade of red and trimmed with shiny gold embroidery and pearls.

“And I’m guessing this is what you were so excited about?” you asked.

“Just try it on!” she was so excited.

You ducked back into the bathroom to untangle the pieces; a pair of shorts, a wide rectangle of fabric with the beautiful embroidery on one long edge, and a longer thinner rectangle of fabric with the same embroidery in the center of one of the long edges.

“I’m going to need an explanation” you called from the bathroom.

“Shorts on, the wide rectangle ties over the shorts as a skirt, and just wrap the other around you and I’ll help”.

The shorts were shorter than you would have liked, the skirt came down to your mid thighs but because it was tied together it left quite a slit up the side where you tied it on you hip. You wrapped the other piece around you and shuffled out of the bathroom feeling rather exposed.

“Really?” you asked Bira.

“Yes! You’ve seen me in stuff like this! Don’t act so surprised!”

She helped you with the top, wrapping it behind your back and crossing it over your chest and tying it behind your neck. It left your midriff bare, but much to you surprise it at least covered a good amount of your chest.

“Absolutely perfect” Bira smiled.

“Its short” you muttered back.

“It’s good for hot weather, and for dancing! There’s a few festivals coming up that it’s perfect for. And I bet Zen’jan will like it, you should keep it on for when he gets home”.

You chatted with Bira and Hoonti for a while before both left to go about their day. You had to admit you had a lot of movement freedom in the outfit, and while it showed off a lot more than you were used to it was comfy and did look good.

Zen came home later that afternoon, in the last week he had been coming home earlier.

“I hope you do not mind, I stopped by the market in my way home and just picked up- wow” he paused when he saw you.

“It’s looks alright?” you asked.

“More than alright, you look incredible” he sat the food down and crossed the room, quickly placing his hands on your hips while he took a moment to take you in.

“Bira said it would be a good outfit for some festivals coming up”.

“It is, though now I am going to have to actually dress up for festivals to keep up with you” he pulled you closer until you were pressed against him and you could feel him purring.

You could also feel him hard against you. The two of you had been bathing together and sleeping naked, though both of you chose to ignore anything other than cuddling for now.

Zen was breathing hard and you could feel his heart racing being so close to him. He leaned down and nuzzled his forehead against yours before pulling you into deep kiss, wasting no time parting you lips and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

It caught you off guard. Zen never initiated anything, he always carefully waited for you to lean into him to cuddle, or for you to kiss him first. His grip on your hips tightened and you felt him grinding against you, felt the way he panted and moaned into your mouth, how his whole body heaved with every breath.

By the time he pulled away you were breathing just as hard, your heart racing while you looked up at him.

“I am sorry” he muttered, “Was that alright?”

You did not answer, instead you tangled your hands into hair and pulled him back in for another kiss. This time you pressed yourself against him and pulled him close just as much as he did to you. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and ran it along the base of his tusks before pulling back a bit and letting him lead again. His tongue nearly filled your mouth and you happily teased him by sucking on his tongue a bit.

Kissing him was never an elegant affair. His tusks always bumped the sides on your face and you also could not tilt your head at the right angle while you were wedged between them. Then mismatch in size between the two of you meant his mouth always entirely covered yours in an odd way, and it all added up to some rather wet, clumsy, and messy kissing but neither of you minded.

His hand drifted lower, cupping your backside and pulling you to rub against him, leaving an ache between your legs. Besides the night you had gotten drunk together, he had not so much as even hinted at anything more than cuddling, his sudden forward was was a bit odd but not unwelcome.

You pulled away from the kiss, “So, formal wear does it for you?” you teased, though at that moment he had also chosen to nudge your legs apart and press his thigh up against your center, making you collapse forward against his chest and let out a soft moan.

“When I come home and my beautiful wife is all dressed up for me it does” his voice was low in your ear and you could hear the need dripping from it. “And as beautiful as you look all dressed up for me, right now all I can think about is helping you out of it all, if you will let me”.

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Tag list

@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen @krayziee

[revelboo]

Just wanted to say I love the way you write Wheeljack! He is my favorite and I don’t think he gets enough love ♥️

Circuits and Wires Pt 5

IDW Wheeljack x Reader

• Part of him still has trouble really believing that you’d rather stay with him than a safer bot. One that might have more time for you, but he’s glad for it. He’ll take as much of your time as you’re willing to give him. Knows he’s distracted a lot, that he forgets things, but you give him something to focus him and he does try. He’s used to working through his recharge period or forgetting to refuel a few times, but he’s also very aware of you, your needs reminding him of his own.

• “Break time, big guy,” you yawn, laying a hand on his arm, when you really just want to sprawl on him while he works and take a nap. Your head is pounding and you feel oddly exhausted. His schedule isn’t exactly human friendly. “I’m dead on my feet, so I know you must be.” His head turns, vocal indicator panels flickering a sickly yellow as he stares at you. “Not literally,” you add before he can try to grab you and run you to Ratchet. You’d figure out the hard way already that some sayings and idioms go right over his head.

• “Sorry, got a bit caught up,” he murmurs, freezing when you lean your upper body on his arm, your cheek resting on your own outstretched arm, feeling your warmth against him. How long has it been since he took a break? Since you ate anything? It had been a surprise to find out humans are supposed to eat throughout the day normally when you’d only been eating once a day to accommodate his schedule and hadn’t said a word of complaint. He’d only figure it out because he’d overheard Bee and Bluestreak talking about their humans. Vocal indicators flickering guiltily, he gently picks you up in his other hand, venting when you just lay your cheek on his servos. “Are you okay?”

• Squinting up at him, you pat his servos. “Just tired.” The headache had been sliding toward a vague queasiness for a while now and you know it’s from going all day without eating, but you didn’t want him to have to stop because of you or to worry him. There’s a vague concern that if you bug him too much he might bring up giving you away again. You know it’s silly to be afraid of that, but you can’t help it. You’re not even really hungry anymore, anyway. Sleeping sounding like a better plan, you’re just so tired and he’s warm.

• By the time he reaches the rec room, you’re asleep in his hand, one of your arms curled around his servos, clinging to him. There’s a box on the back counter of human food that he raids as he cradles you to his chassis and grabs an energon cube for himself. Finding a table to set the cube and your strange food on, he runs a servo between your shoulder blades, rubbing. “Come on. You need to eat for me.” Making an adorably sleepy sound that hums warmly through his spark, you peer up at him as he holds you to his chassis. “We’ll rest after,” he promises as you finally straighten a bit, though your head and shoulders are still drooping. Carefully picking up your food and nudging it at you until you take it, he’s aware of the curious looks he’s getting from the other Autobots at the way he’s holding you against him as you eat, but he couldn’t care less. Let them whisper about him, it’s not like he isn’t used to it anyway. He’s always been the outsider, the one they whisper and gossip about, laughingly calling him a mad scientist behind his back. They all scoff at him, but not you. And you’re all that matters and he strokes your back with a servo as you eat, before reaching for his own energon.

Previous

[crimsonwolf715]

Race Against the Clock

Dick turns the TV on after coming back home from patrolling Blüdhaven.

“Hey, Batsy,” Joker says, waving a knife in front of him with his signature smile. “I’ve captured someone rather important.”

He moves to show the hostage and Dick’s heart stops for a moment. Tim Drake, not in costume, is bloody and bruised in the chair. He’s tied up and he looks to be unconscious at the moment.

“Come and get me. You have five hours to find me or little Timmy here dies a gruesome death.”

The camera moves to a bomb a foot away from where Tim’s tied up. The video cuts, then returns to the news. Dick jumps over the back of his couch and rushes to get ready. He drives to Gotham in record time to find the police already outside of the station.

He drops down. “Gordon.”

Gordon turns. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I wasn’t, but I saw the broadcast,” Dick replies. “Where are we in search?”

“I have two search teams out already, but I have more officers here now that I’m about to disburse into search teams. And Batman’s here.”

Dick looks around and spots his father after a moment. He jogs over to him.

“What happened?” Dick asks.

“He was supposed to be at a friend’s house. He never made it, so Joker caught him unaware on the way from school to the house.”

“Damn it,” Dick mutters. “I should have been here.”

“Worry about that once we find him,” Bruce says.

Dick nods.

“We need to create search parties,” Gordon says. “The faster we find Joker, the faster that Batman or Nightwing will be able to take him out.”

Dick starts droning out Gordon’s instructions, instead focusing on where Joker could be keeping Tim.

He was in a warehouse, so most likely in the southern half of Gotham. Though there are a couple in the northern side.

“Yes, sir!” The call from all of the officers snaps Dick out of his head.

The officers separate to their cars to start the search. People on foot start searching as well.

“We split the city in half,” Bruce says to Dick.

Dick nods. “I’ll take the northern half.”

“Sounds good.”

The two separate, heading in their respective directions.

Dick quickly heads for the cluster of warehouses in the northern part of Gotham on his motorcycle.

“Dick?” The voice belongs to Barbara Gordon, Batgirl."

“Hey, Babs. What do I owe the pleasure?” Dick asks.

“I just saw the report. What’s the status of the search?” Barbara asks.

“Haven’t found anything yet, and neither have the police. Batman’s empty handed as well.”

“Damn it. I’m gonna get into costume when I get home and search too.”

“Where are you?” Dick asks.

“On a train back to Gotham. I was at a lecture,” Barbara answers. “I’m almost home though. I’m on my way, I swear.”

“Sounds great. Help is always appreciated, and I don’t know if my anxiety can handle this. It feels too much like when…”

“Hey, we’re gonna find him, okay? Tim’s gonna be okay.”

“He will be,” Dick says. “I don’t care if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let him die.”

“I’m about to get off the train. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Barbara says.

“Godspeed.”

The comm cuts, so Dick returns his focus completely to the road. Once he’s close enough, he gets off his bike and starts going on foot. Going from rooftop to rooftop, focusing on running and his footing.

Falling off a building is not allowed today.

Dick makes it to the warehouses and sees guards guarding the entrance to one of them. He drops down and takes out all of the guards but one.

“Is Joker here?” Dick asks.

The guy nods. Dick knocks him out, then heads to the roof of the next building.

He spots Joker and Tim through a window.

“Batman, I found where Joker’s hiding.”

“Where?”

Dick sends Bruce his location.

“I’ve received it and I’m on the way.”

“I’m gonna get Tim.”

“Be careful. Batgirl's on her way too. She heard about the incident.”

“Tell Babs I don’t need the backup, but that it’s cute that she’s worried,” Dick jokes.

He jumps down to the flagpole and swings off of it. He slams through the window feet first and lands in a neat roll. Joker starts shooting at him the second he gets into the warehouse, so he ducks behind some of the machinery. Dick grabs a batarang and throws it at Joker. Joker dodges it, so Dick runs out and delivers a roundhouse kick to the side of Joker’s head. He stumbles, so Dick throws him into the wall and he slumps over.

“I’m one minute out,” Bruce says in the comm.

“Sounds good.” Dick goes over to Tim. “Hey, you okay?”

“As okay as I can be,” Tim answers.

“Good.”

Dick pulls a batarang out of his pocket and checks to make sure it’s sharp enough. He then cuts Tim’s restraints with the batarang.

“Batman should be here, so go find him. I’ll deal with Joker.”

Tim nods, then stumbles towards the exit. Dick turns towards Joker and the bomb, and sees that the timer says ten seconds. Panic shoots through Dick.

This will kill Tim if it goes off. The flames will blast through the hallway.

Dick runs towards the door and uses all of his strength to push the door shut.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry, Tim,” Dick says, then the bomb goes off.

An explosion rocks the warehouse as Batman arrives on the scene. Bright flames pouring out of every exit that it can find. Before he has a chance to react, Tim stumbles out of the warehouse.

“Where’s Nightwing?” Bruce asks, rushing over to Tim.

“He’s not here with you?” Tim asks.

Dread washes over Bruce.

He gently grabs Tim’s shoulders, gaining him a cringe from Tim. “I need you to go over to Gordon. Tell him that I’m going after Nightwing.”

Tim nods, looking on the verge of tears. Bruce runs into the warehouse, pulling the gas mask on so he doesn’t have to worry about smoke inhalation. He goes through the building until he comes to a heavy metal door. He pulls it open and his oldest son falls at his feet. He’s covered in burns and cuts, and he clearly isn’t breathing.

“No,�� Bruce says, then drops to his knees.

When he checks for a pulse and doesn’t find one, he starts doing CPR. Tears are streaming down his face as he tries to force oxygen into lungs that are no longer working.

“No, you can’t die. I can’t lose you too,” Bruce pleads to deaf ears.

After almost a whole two minutes of CPR, Bruce stops and breaks down sobbing on his son’s chest.

“Please, no. Dick, I need you. I need my baby, please.”

Tim watches Batman walk out of the warehouse holding a burned and battered Nightwing. Tim’s face lights up for just a moment, until he realizes that Dick’s limp.

Tim’s smile disappears in an instant.

“No,” Tim whispers.

Gordon looks up from his radio and sees the two. “Oh no,” he says.

Gordon jogs over to Bruce. They have a quiet exchange which Tim can’t hear, then Gordon comes back over.

“Come on, let’s get you to the station,” Gordon says.

“No, I can’t leave them,” Tim says, then runs towards Bruce.

Bruce turns and sees Tim. “Don’t come over here!” Bruce shouts, but Tim doesn’t listen.

He makes it over and Bruce tries to shield Tim from the view with his body.

“Grayson,” Tim says. “He’s… gone?”

Batgirl runs over and stops short. She sees Tim, then runs over and scoops him up. Tim cries his protest, but is in no shape to stop her as she takes him back towards the police cars.

“Stop, please!” Tim cries.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Barbara says. “You don’t need to see that.”

Gordon takes Tim to the station, where a paramedic patches up his injuries. Bruce shows up not long after, looking terrible. He rushes over to Tim, who won’t even look at him.

Bruce takes him home and no attempt works to get him to eat, drink, or sleep. Tim is inconsolable.

The funeral, which happens a couple of days after Dick’s death, is quiet. All of Dick’s friends are in attendance, super or not. Many members of the League attend as well. Bruce gives a beautiful speech about how Dick made him a better man from the moment he entered his life. How Dick was a bright kid who wanted nothing more than to help people. That he was dearly loved and will be missed by everyone who knew him. Tim’s quiet and fights tears throughout the entire event.

The ride back is completely silent. When they get back to Wayne Manor, Bruce grabs Tim and pulls him into a tight, but gentle hug.

“It’s okay to cry, Tim,” Bruce whispers. “But it’s also okay if you don’t want to cry now. Just know that I’ll be here for you.”

Tears spill out of Tim’s eyes and he pulls away from Bruce.

“He died because of me!” Tim exclaims. “You should be furious with me! Why don’t you hate me?”

Sobs wrack Tim’s small frame. “Why… Why don’t you… hate me?”

Bruce kneels down in front of Tim.

“It’s not your fault,” Bruce says. “Dick risked his life for someone he loved. I will never fault him for that, and you’re alive. I could have lost both of my sons that day, but I didn’t. You’re alive and that’s so important.”

Tim puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, he caught me unaware.”

“Don’t be sorry. It happens to the best of us.” Bruce hugs Tim and gently rubs his back.

Alfred walks into the house.

“I’ll make dinner tonight, Alfred,” Bruce says.

“No need, Master Bruce. I need the distraction. You should stay here with young Master Drake,” Alfred replies.

Bruce nods.

After dinner, which none of them eat much, they tell stories about Dick and all the wild and lovely things he used to do.

[ak319]

Lovesick Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

《Beloved's Veil》

PART VI

➺ Part V

"Rahim, please… say something," you tried again, your patience stretched thin by the gnawing worry in your chest. This was the third time you'd asked, and with each unanswered attempt, your resolve to get to the bottom of things only grew stronger. If he didn’t speak soon, you were prepared to go straight to his family’s home yourself.

"That's it." You rose to leave, but before you could take a step, a small hand gripped your sleeve, halting you. Rahim’s expression was haunted, his eyes wide and pleading. His hand trembled, clutching you like you were his only anchor in a sea of terror. The fear in his gaze didn’t diminish your anxiety, it only sharpened it, tightening like a vice around your heart.

"You’ve got to say something, kiddo," you murmured, leaning close so he wouldn’t feel pressured. "You’re making me worry here."

Finally, after a silence that stretched unbearably long, Rahim’s voice came, barely a whisper. "U… uncle…"

You leaned in, gentle and steady. "Habib?" you prompted softly. "Are you talking about him? Yes, tell me, Rahim… what happened?"

He hesitated, the words hovering at the edge of his lips, but then, as quickly as he’d started, he fell silent again, retreating into himself. His eyes shifted away, shadowed and unreadable, as if something unspeakable lay hidden just beneath the surface.

You let out a quiet sigh, knowing that pressing him further wouldn’t help. He needed time. Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, you signaled Odai to come closer. "Odai, stay with him," you instructed, casting a final, lingering glance at Rahim

"B-but what about you, ma'am? Where are you off to?" Odai's voice trembled slightly as he watched you prepare to leave.

"To his house, with Maha," you replied firmly, glancing at the clock on your desk. It was 7:30 a.m., too early for peace but not for action.

Odai shifted uneasily. "I should go with you, and Maha can stay here."

You silenced him with a look, then took the gun from your locker, its cold weight in your hand grounding you with the resolve you needed. "I can handle it, Odai. Just watch over him and call me if anything changes."

Odai nodded reluctantly, his eyes flickering to the unconscious Rahim. And with that, you left, setting out with Maha, who looked more unnerved than usual, her hands twisting in her lap as you drove.

"What if… what if it’s related to the story I told you, ma’am?” Maha's voice was small, hesitant. “And from what you’ve told me about Rahim, and everything… what if Habib’s… possessed again? I warned you, didn’t I? It’s not right to get tangled with him, or that family. The way his brother insulted you…” Her hands clenched in her lap, remembering that day, the bitter words she still hadn’t forgotten.

“Maha, we talked about this.” You kept your voice calm, though tension simmered beneath. “Habib needs help. This… this might be something worse, yes. God, I have no idea what we’re going to find there or how deep this goes. But if this is connected to him, I’m stepping in, Basim’s objections be damned.”

Maha looked at you with renewed determination. Her gaze shifted to the gun secured in its holder beside you, her expression hardening with resolve.

“Yes, ma’am.”

═════ ◈ ═════

When you reached the house, the air was thick with an unsettling silence, the kind that seeped into your bones. There was something about it that felt wrong, like an invisible void, as if you had come to collect the fragments of something lost. The house, once a familiar place of comfort, now felt like a hollow shell. You shook off the feeling, attributing it to the paranoia caused by Rahim's cryptic behavior and the events of the night.

"Ma’am, he... he’s very sick. He wouldn’t stop saying your name..." Kadir's voice faltered as he stood beside Habib's bed. You looked down at the unconscious man, your grip tightening on his hand as his body trembled. His mouth was dry, letting out soft, pitiful whimpers that seemed to grow quieter, calmer, as if he found some semblance of peace in your presence.

"What did the doctor say?" You asked, keeping your voice steady, despite the deepening sense of dread gnawing at you.

"He has a high fever, and he's under extreme stress..." Kadir responded his voice a mixture of concern and exhaustion. You glanced at Dana, who was sitting beside Habib, her eyes filled with a motherly worry that was almost suffocating. She didn't need to say anything, her gaze spoke volumes, each one filled with unspoken fear and you couldn't take it anymore.

"I’ve had enough." You stood abruptly, your voice hardening with resolve. "I’m taking him with me. And nobody here is going to stop me." Your stance was unwavering, your eyes locked with Kadir's, whose face paled at the weight of your words.

Kadir seemed to hesitate, but the look in your eyes made it clear you wouldn't be moved. He nodded slowly, his expression resigned, knowing full well what you meant.

"I just..." you continued, turning your attention to them, "Do you both know where Rahim is?"

The couple exchanged a glance, confusion crossing their faces. "Rahim? He must be in his room... You want me to call him?" Dana’s voice was tentative, unsure of the sudden shift in the air.

"No, no." You cut her off. "He’s not in his room. He’s in my bungalow." You watched as realization hit them like a wave, their faces draining of color as you explained the strange events that had unfolded, the boy's frantic running, the collapse, and the chilling connection to Habib. Their expressions grew ashen, the weight of the situation settling over them like a suffocating fog.

Kadir blinked in disbelief, his voice a low whisper. "I better go... inform Basim of this."

"No." You turned, cutting him off once again, your tone sharp. "Not until I leave with Habib. I am not in the mood to deal with him right now. Trust me, you don’t want me to." Your eyes flickered to the unconscious figure of Habib, then back to Maya, your resolve unshakable.

Maya, who had been quietly observing the situation, nodded in agreement, her eyes meeting yours with understanding. She didn’t need to ask any more questions. The decision had already been made.

"In fact, you both are coming with me, I think... Rahim might not mind it." You said with a touch of certainty, even though your mind raced with the implications of the situation. The bruises you had seen on the child’s body were unmistakable, and they burned in your mind. You were certain they were from Basim. You had seen his cruelty before, and this was no different. A gut feeling told you the two were somehow connected, and the thought churned uneasily in your stomach.

"Um, yes, definitely." Kadir’s voice quivered slightly, his worry for his grandson and son making him agree without much resistance.

"Good," you responded briskly, trying to push the anxiety down.

The air between the five of you was tense, the weight of unspoken words hanging like a heavy cloud as you made your way back to the bungalow. Your eyes were drawn to Habib, his limp form resting against his father in the backseat, his chest rising and falling weakly. The image of him like that, vulnerable, fragile, almost lost, was a stain in your mind that wouldn't fade.

By the time you arrived at the bungalow, the place felt more like a sanctuary and a prison in equal measure. The heavy silence from earlier still clung to the house, but now you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Dr Ali was already there, pacing in front of the door, looking visibly tense. He was here to check on Rahim and Habib.

═════ ◈ ═════

it had been three days since the atmosphere in the bungalow had turned so heavy, each day thick with the silence of unspoken fears and unanswered questions. Habib, thank God, was showing signs of improvement, but he was still too weak, refusing to eat and constantly haunted by nightmares. The only time he seemed to find peace was when you were by his side. His vulnerability clung to you like a weight, and no matter how many times you tried to shake the unease off, it lingered.

In the other room, Rahim was still as quiet as ever. He hadn’t spoken a word since you brought him back, and every day that passed without him opening up felt like another failure, a missed opportunity to get to the root of whatever was haunting him. Still, his grandparents’ presence did seem to calm him in some way, though you couldn’t help but wonder if that was enough. You prayed for his voice every night, hoping he would say something, anything, to give you a clue about what he was going through.

Kadir had told you that Basim and his wife had gone to visit some relatives for a wedding, which felt... odd, to say the least. How could a wedding be more important than their son’s condition? And why hadn’t they been told about what was happening? Kadir, of course, insisted that it was better they didn’t know yet, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. His reasoning didn’t sit right with you. And then, there was Samir and his family, who had moved out of the village with no warning. Something didn’t add up. Why would they leave so suddenly, just as things were escalating?

Maha’s voice broke through your thoughts, her tone tentative but insistent. "There is... I just... feel fishy, ma'am. I mean, all the Rahim fiasco and how Kadir insists on you marrying-"

You held up your hand, cutting her off, your voice steady but carrying a weight of finality. "It was my decision, Maha. I want it to be done."

"But, why, ma'am... why so fast? Shouldn't we wait for things to settle?"

You let out a slow breath, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup as you gathered your thoughts. "Maha, I can't have some man in my bungalow..." You trailed off, hoping she understood the gravity of what you were saying. "Y'know, try to understand."

Maha was silent for a moment, her eyes dropping to the floor as she processed your words. Then, without a word, she nodded, her expression softening with understanding.

"I have... talked to my parents," you continued, your voice low but resolute. "And they agreed. Fortunately. Tomorrow, go find the cleric. Bring him, and in the afternoon, the ceremony has to be done with." Your parents were shocked to hear your sudden announcement but as you kept the details about the current situation mostly vague they agreed, somewhat happy and given our urgency they agreed to be on a video call during the ceremony. It was going to be a small one, Habib's parents, Rahim and you both.

"Yes, ma'am." Her tone was firm, her eyes momentarily drifting to the hallway. You followed her gaze, only to catch a glimpse of Rahim standing by the corner of the hallway before he quickly disappeared out of sight. You sat there for a moment, your heart thudding against your chest as you absorbed the subtle shift in the room

"Rahim..." You stood up, your mind heavy with worry, and moved toward the hallway. You quickly were on your feet and stalked in the direction, Maha, following behind.

With a gentle knock, you entered the room, your eyes falling on the boy sitting quietly on the bed. His back was turned, half of his body facing the door, but his posture was stiff, unnatural, like someone trying to brace against something they couldn’t see or understand. The atmosphere around him was thick with tension, his usual mischievous energy nowhere to be found.

"Um, Maha..." you said softly, and she nodded before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone with him.

You stepped forward slowly, the floor creaking faintly under your weight as you sat down beside him. For a long moment, you said nothing. It seemed there was nothing to say, no words that could bridge the silence between you both. You just sat there, letting your presence speak for itself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the stillness, soft and hesitant. "You... are going to marry...?"

At first, you were unsure whether it was a question or a statement, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. You glanced at him, his face still angled down, avoiding your gaze, but the emptiness in his eyes struck you hard.

"Yes... I am... isn't that a good thing?" You gave him a soft smile, one that didn’t reach your heart, but you tried. Gently, you reached out and rubbed his back, trying to offer comfort, though you knew he wasn’t the same boy who had always bounced around, full of life and questions. "You getting this cool aunt." You chuckled to lighten the mood.

But his response was far from what you expected.

"Don't."

"You...don't...want me to marry Habib?" He stayed quiet. Once again.

"Rahim…" you whispered, though you knew he probably wasn’t listening. But you couldn’t stop yourself. "Talk to me, please."

"They...they...always...just didn't let me tell you. I wanted to." His leg started bouncing and you immediately held his hand, the other on his leg to calm him. "Take breaths, I am here, you are safe. No body is going to do anything. So, talk freely, and fully. Whoever it is about. Even if it's Habib, if he's done something to you, tell me that too. I won't say a word to you, or anyone about this to anyone. Even if it is about... the thing regarding your uncle being possessed and all...I know the story...Habib himself told me, so don't think of me as a stranger. Alright?"

He nodded and wiped a tear. He took moments to clam down and with a heavy breath continued. "My...uncle...he..." He breathed in a breath.

"Was never possessed."

“He’s known for his extraordinary beauty. I have not seen him myself though. So, up until he was about sixteen, everything seemed fine. But then, he suddenly vanished from his friends’ lives and stopped attending school. Despite the family’s best efforts to conceal the issue, it eventually came to light that he was... possessed."

"When I was younger—around sixteen—I... went through something. Something I can’t fully explain, even to this day."

"It was like... something else had control over me. I was sick...and I was dangerous. I hurt people--people I loved, hurt myself too. My family didn’t speak about it much after it was over. They believed it was better left forgotten. But I can’t forget. I’ve tried to move on, but..."

No...those...those are all stories? He gave you and himself to catch a breath then continued.

"When I was a child," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I thought...what everyone thought that...indeed Uncle was. He was praised for his beauty, and my dad... hated him for it. Every chance he got, he'd tear into him, beat him, humiliate him. It only made Uncle more closed off. He stopped going out, hid from everyone, saying he was cursed by his own looks." Rahim’s voice cracked, his gaze distant as if seeing those memories unfold all over again.

The words tumbled out of him, fast and desperate, as if he had held them in for too long. "He started saying someone was using black magic against him, someone in the family. And my dad, he... he enjoyed it. He fueled those fears and made Uncle believe he was haunted and cursed because he was angry at Uncle for rejecting my aunt's hand and just y'know jealous. Everyone around started to believe it too because he started to act...like...he was. It became this... rumour that swallowed him whole. Even the cleric knew it wasn’t true, he told everyone but no one listened. And my grandfather, even he started believing it."

Rahim’s shoulders shook, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled to contain his grief. "We live in a village where nobody talks about mental illness. People don’t understand, they don’t want to understand. They just accepted that something was wrong with him and left him to rot. But I knew… I knew it wasn’t magic. I researched on my own, in school, and I just can't figure out what's wrong with him but I know there is....there is something psychological. I wanted to help him, I tried to, but nobody would listen."

Tears streamed down his face now, his voice breaking as the words poured out like a dam finally bursting. "Dad would beat me whenever I tried to bring it up. And Grandfather who has always been helpless against my dad always said that he will be fine once he gets married… he just wants to marry Uncle off because he thinks marriage will fix him like that’s some kind of miracle cure. Especially getting him married to you.... someone of your status. But it’s all... it’s all bullshit! Marriage won’t solve anything! The medicines he takes are just mostly sleeping pills and--and some herbal stuff my grandfather gives him which are not what he needs! He needs a proper treatment...proper treatment."

Rahim’s outburst ended in a sob, his chest heaving as he broke down completely. He was no longer the reserved, cautious boy you knew, he was vulnerable, raw, and heartbroken, carrying the weight of years of pain and helplessness on his young shoulders.

"When you came here and even better, took interest in my Uncle, I thought that maybe marriage wouldn't be bad because he would be free and you would get him treated, I would tell you about it myself when the time is right. It was...about to happen but...again my Dad...he ruined it, I thought it was over, you were out of his life, but I still hoped, he loves you so much and I know you do too so...I was ready to help my uncle run away but.."

You were too shocked to even ask him why he had stopped speaking and simply let out a questioning hum.

"My mum and dad… they… they tried to…"

"Tried to what?" You were both startled by the sudden ringtone of your phone. Seeing Odai's name on the screen, you quickly answered, bracing yourself against the possibility of more bad news.

"Ma'am, I checked the footage from the village gate. Samir left last night with his family around 4 a.m. But Basim and his wife… they never actually left the village."

Your eyes widened. "What? Are you saying… they’re still here?"

"Yes, ma'am," Odai confirmed before you ended the call. You turned back to Rahim, whose face had gone pale, frozen in place as if dreading the implications of this revelation.

"Rahim…" you said slowly, your voice soft yet urging. "They tried to what? And… where are they?"

(AN: Did you guys expect that ʘ‿ʘ? Do comment and lemme know! Also, I know I should have mentioned it earlier but the story is set in 1990's due to which especially in the village people don't use much tech, like wifi and all cuz not everybody has computers etc that's why Rahim did whatever research he could in his school's library and computer.)

[lkfarrout]

Scared (family fic)

This is technically a Stan x Reader fic, but there's no real romance in it and the relationship isn't the focus, so I'm calling it a family one

Summary: Mabel needs your help

Warnings: very light angst

The door creaked open and a sliver of light pierced the darkness on the porch of the mystery shack. 

“Mabel? Whatcha doin’ awake, kiddo? It’s late.”

“Sorry Grunkle Stan,” was Mabel’s reply, before turning to you, “I really need your help.”

You began to make your way to the door, but Stan interrupted, “Kid, now’s really not a good time. Can it wait till morning?”

“No, Stan, really it’s okay,” you assured him. With a better view than Stan, you could see that Mabel was upset. It was quite a contrast to the energetic, bubbly girl you had gotten used to. 

“Alright, just don’t keep her too long.” Stan pointed a stern finger at the 13-year-old. 

Once inside, the tears began to well in Mabel’s eyes.

“What’s going on?” You crouched and placed a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. 

“It happened,” Mabel pulled her sweater way over her head. Sweater town. Dipper had warned you about this. You pulled Mabel in for a hug, both for comfort and to hear her better through the thick fabric.

“What happened?”

“I started my period,” was the muffled response.

“Oh, that’s alright,” You gently pulled the sweater just under Mabel’s eyes, “C’mon, we’ll go get you everything you need.”

Mabel emerged fully from sweater town and begged, “Please don’t tell Grunkle Stan.”

You reassured her, “Don’t worry. He won’t know a thing.”

The two of you emerged back on the porch, newly equipped with jackets and car keys. 

“Stan, I’m borrowing your car.” You tried your best to walk quickly before Stan registered what you’d said, but he managed to get in front of you. 

“Wait a minute, where to? Here, I’ll drive.” Stan attempted to grab the keys from your hands. 

“No Stan, just Mable and I.” You shoved your hand with the keys into your jacket pocket. 

“Look, I’m not just gonna let you drive my car with my niece to who-knows-where in the middle of the night without an explanation.”

“Stan, we’ll be back in ten minutes. I promise.”

Stan peered around at Mabel, who was hiding behind you. He’d seen her in some of the scariest situations a kid could be in, but for the first time, it seemed to be him that she was afraid of. Defeated, he said, “Alright, you get ten minutes.”

Stan watched the headlights fade away and spent the whole time glancing between the dark forested road and his watch until you returned. He opened the car door for Mabel, but she made a beeline to the shack while tightly clutching a grocery bag. Stan led the way back to your original place on the porch. 

“You gonna tell me where you went?” Stan kicked at a few small rocks.

“I promised Mabel I wouldn’t.” There was a long silence.

Stan’s voice was shaky. “She looked scared. A different kind of scared.” Stan put his head in his hands, “Sometimes I wonder if last summer was too much for her, or if I did somethin’ I still don’t remember.”

“She is scared, Stan - scared of growing up.” You gently rubbed his back. “I felt the same way the first time I got mine.”

Stan looked up at you, and you watched the realization settle onto his face.

“But hey, she asked me not to tell you, so don’t go makin’ it weird.” You playfully elbowed him. “It wouldn’t hurt to be a little extra nice, though.”

Stan gave a tiny smile in response. “Sounds like I’m making stancakes in the morning. Wonder if we still got any of that edible glitter layin’ around.”

[helpimstuckposting]

I’m a ghost and you are a shadow

Part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

—

Robin’s eyes darted between Steve’s own as she assessed his mental state or whatever it was she was looking for. She seemed to find an answer though as she stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

She sank into it, using all of her weight to blanket him within her arms. Even though she was smaller than him, lankier in her awkwardness, she was so warm. Again, he felt that settling feeling, like pieces he’d been missing were clicking back into place, making him whole again.

She sighed against his neck, rubbing her cold nose into him, sending a short chill into his spine. He jerked his shoulder in response, squeezing her head into the crook before pulling away enough to look her in the eye again

“Jesus!” he startled, pinching her side. “How is your nose so cold?”

“My feet are colder,” she said, sticking a foot into the air and trying to slide it into the cuff of his sweatpants. He yelped, stepping backward onto a different stair as she wobbled forward. She still had a grip on his arms and tried wrestling him toward her, one foot precariously in the air as she balanced on the steps, one wrong move from disaster.

“No wrestling on the stairs!” Eddie’s voice called from the living room.

They both froze, sharing a look. ‘Don’t say anything’ and ‘don’t worry, I won’t’.

It was easier said than done, though, when he stepped off the staircase and rounded the corner to the living room. Eddie’s eyes caught his sweatshirt just like Robin’s had and Steve watched as he took a deep breath before looking Steve in the eye.

He tried to give a reassuring smile — tried to show he wasn’t mad they’d been keeping a secret from him — but he thinks it probably fell flat. He couldn’t quite get the corners of his mouth to relax the way a smile should fall; he was too stiff, too awkward. He felt like he was trying to play pickup sticks, gently guiding the twigs to freedom without touching the rest of the pile. It wasn’t working.

Eddie pulled his eyes away, focusing back on his conversation with El. Luckily, Steve didn’t have time to open his mouth and say something stupid before the front door swung open and the rest of the party stormed the castle.

Dustin came barreling in, a thousand questions on his tongue, and Steve tried insisting they didn’t have all the answers. He was glad for the distraction though, didn’t really want to be diving into the abyss of questions his own mind was providing.

He couldn’t help but avoid eye contact with Eddie, though he could practically feel his eyes burrowing into the back of Steve’s head. He just didn’t know how to look at him without dragging him away to talk, without the pile of sticks crashing down on top of him before he could wiggle the one thread of conversation he needed out.

For now, he sat down on the couch as everyone filed into the living room, scattering around the room once the couches were filled. Steve had Robin squished in on one side, El burrowed into the other, and the three remaining adults were on the second couch. Will and Mike leaned against the wall as Max and Lucas sat down on the coffee table and Dustin paced the length of the living room. His sneakers were scuffed and dragging faint lines of dirt across the beige carpet.

A thought briefly flashed through Steve’s mind; his mother yelling about the stains, complaining that Steve doesn’t care for his possessions, that he’s ungrateful and should leave the house spotless next time.

He wonders again where this Linda wandered off to.

“So what do you mean you ‘think’ you found it?” Dustin settled on his first question.

The group of four looked back and forth between each other, no one immediately volunteering their information.

“Well,” El started, “it’s like it’s… closed?”

“That’s good, right? That it’s closed?” Mike asked, eyes darting from El to Dustin and back again.

El glanced back toward Steve and shrugged. “It’s only… kind of closed. It opened when Steve touched it.”

Steve felt all their eyes on him, and he squirmed under their weight. This felt like another reminder that he wasn’t meant to be here, that he was different from the rest of the party. Eddie’s words drifting through those thoughts was the only thing easing his immediate anxiety. Do you want to stay here, Steve?

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with the gate but I don’t plan on going anywhere,” he assured them, liked how the words sounded out loud.

He glanced toward Eddie, saw his approval in the reassuring smile and the relaxed set to his shoulders. We’ll do everything we can to make sure you do.

“If it’s closed when Steve’s not around it, maybe the issue is already solved,” Eddie cut in, the eyes in the room slinking off of Steve and over to the man on the other couch.

“Maybe I can see why it reacted to him,” El said, standing from Steve’s side and addressing the room. “Maybe if I try and… and… talk to it, or at least locate it myself, I can find out what it means. It should not be too hard, now that I know where it is.”

“Now there’s a plan, Supergirl,” Eddie said, snapping his fingers in her direction.

The rest of the teens shared their own looks, weighing the option in their heads. If Steve didn’t know any better he’d think they somehow gained a hive mind through all the Upside Down shit… Though, Steve didn’t actually know better so who could say?

“Okay,” Mike finally relented, breaking the silence, “Fine, El can check out the gate with her mind, but what about Steve being a key? What if we have to shove him into the lock in order to really close the door?”

“Hey!” Eddie, and Robin shouted at once — Robin practically half out of her seat.

“I don’t want him gone either, assholes!” Mike yelled back. His eyes darted back and forth between the two adults, pointedly avoiding Steve’s. He stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning against, arms held tightly across his chest.

“I know I wasn’t close to him like Dustin or you guys, but he was still our babysitter. He was still like a brother to me.”

Steve’s heart didn’t skip at Mike’s declaration. It sort of… wobbled, like it was so shocked it contemplated stopping all together before thudding into action again. He looked at Robin, gaping like a fish still on the hook, and he looked at Eddie, not much different than Robin. Then he glanced at Nancy, compelled by the Wheeler bloodline or maybe because he always used to look at Nancy when he didn’t know what to do, and she looked… proud. She smiled at Mike like they’d never fought a day in their lives, like the Norman Rockwell Christmas paintings that Steve used to stare at as a child, wishing his parents cast their happy smiles onto him just like the pictures. She smiled in a way that Steve had almost thought didn’t exist until he saw it on Mrs. Byers and Jonathan when they looked at Will. Like how family was supposed to look at each other, but Steve hadn’t learned that until 1983.

Mike himself was resolutely staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact as Will pat his shoulder and Dustin started rambling again to peel everyone’s eyes away. Everyone except Steve, who kept watching as Mike glanced up and caught his eye. He mouthed a soft ‘thank you’ to the teen before diverting his attention onto Dustin once more.

He was helping El to the floor as Max and Lucas started shoving the coffee table out of the way. Someone clicked on the TV to a vacant channel, screen buzzing away with static. Eddie pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and wrapped it gently around El’s head, whispering softly to check if it was too tight or if she could still see. Once she nodded and gave him a blind thumbs-up, he stepped away again, and the room turned their attention to the girl with superpowers.

Everyone was silent as she sat there, doing god knows what in that little head of hers. Her fingertips twitched as they rested against her knees, and she moved her head around as if seeing straight through the bandana. Steve didn’t know why, but for some reason he got the impression that she was confused — like she was looking too hard at a map and struggling to find her destination. She raised her hand toward him, curling her fingers twice to beckon him forward.

She gasped as he grabbed her hand, fingers clenching tightly around his. She squeezed them tighter and tighter, sitting ram-rod straight now as his fingertips went fuzzy like the TV screen. She gasped again, this time much deeper like she was coming up for air after a swim and she dropped his hand all together, pulling the bandana from her eyes.

El looked around the room at everyone, and Steve was transported back to his own world for just a moment — watching a little girl come back to herself as she sorted through things only she could see. This El before him — nearing her 20s, no longer 14 years old — looked up at him with a question she hadn’t quite answered yet. He nodded, trying to encourage her with his eyes, nudge her to sort it out aloud.

“I saw,” she started, looking once again from person to person, “I saw gates. Lots of gates, every gate that was ever opened in Hawkins.”

“Like… open now? Again?” Max asked.

El shook her head, still a bit confused herself. “No. Not open. More like… whispers? Like memories. Except, when I touched Steve’s hand I saw even more.”

“Also not open?” Dustin clarified.

El nodded, then tilted her head and squinted before shaking it. “Kind of? They were all scattered, different than the ones I saw by myself. It was like they were whispers of whispers, like I was seeing them through a dirty window. Except one.” She looked at Steve again.

“It was like… two gates, on top of each other. It was the tree gate, but… it looked layered? Does that make sense?”

The group mumbled their confusion, varying degrees of ‘not really’ and ‘no’. But Steve thought about what Robin said, about scars and the body constantly keeping old wounds closed. He thought about what Dustin said about parallel worlds living side by side, and El saying it was like looking through a dirty window, he thought of locks and keys and doors.

“What if the foggy gates are from my world, and the tree gate was an overlap from both? Like, a doorway works both ways, right? What if the other gates are just… opening to brick walls?” Steve looked up from the floor, catching everyone’s eyes on him. El was nodding, accepting, but the rest were on a spectrum from confused to contemplative.

“Did I… did I say something wrong?” he asked, trying to parse if Dustin’s look was leaning more toward denial or agreement.

They all looked between each other, going around the room and locking eyes, muttering to themselves, locking different eyes, nodding, muttering some more. Steve felt something creeping up his spine that he hadn’t felt for a long time, not since Dustin had asked “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child,” and his father telling him he needed a job for the summer or he wasn’t welcome at home anymore. He felt it when Nancy looked over his college paper and tried letting him down gently, and when Billy knocked him down during gym and everyone just watched.

But then Dustin nodded again, a more certain look in his eyes as he snapped his fingers and pointed at Steve.

“That’s gotta be it,” he said, and Steve felt the creeping thing slip away, falling from his shoulders like a cloak. “It makes sense, right? A scar on top of a scar, opening the wound again. That’s gotta be why Steve can open it but El can’t, she’s got the wrong key, she’s not from Steve’s universe.��

He didn’t flinch that time. Maybe it was exhaustion from the day’s adventure, maybe it was what Eddie said, still floating through his head. Maybe he was just getting used to it, his otherness. Whatever it was, he didn’t flinch when Dustin said Steve’s universe.

Eddie did though. He looked from Dustin, to Steve, to the sweatshirt Steve was wearing, and then he shot a desperate look to Robin before mumbling about the bathroom and slinking from the room (very obviously walking in the complete opposite direction of any bathrooms, though no one else seemed to be paying attention). Steve hoped they could end this soon, because his feet were itching to follow Eddie, to talk about whatever the other Steve was to him. Though, he knew what they were. The Polaroids in the closet were burned into his brain.

But then Mike asked again about the key and the door and what they would do if Steve had to be put back, if the gate couldn’t close without him, and Steve knew it would be a while yet until he could talk to the man who put such a warm smile on OtherSteve’s face.

—

Sorry for the delay! I was focussing all my time on my steddie bang for a good chunk of the year so this update was slow going. I'm so excited to jump back into this one!

@devondespresso @machete-inventory-manager @sirsnacksalot @space-invading-pigeon @aliea82

@goodolefashionedloverboi @anti-ozzie @13catastrophic-blues @estrellami-1 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@likelylad @aellafreya @wxrmland @shunna @howincrediblysapphicofyou

@1-8oo-wtfbro @grimmfitzz @queenie-ofthe-void @redheadchimechild

[baejax-the-great]

Sing, O Muse

Achilles is standing in his room, a scroll in his hand. He has a look of utmost concentration on the page, so much so he doesn’t notice Zagreus walking in, though his cheeks are strangely pink as his eyes scan over the words. He raises an eyebrow, then blinks a few times at whatever he has just read, at which point he notices Zagreus in the doorway. He coughs once, tossing the scroll to the desk.

“Interesting reading you have here, lad.”

Zagreus feels his own face begin to flush. Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no. “Dusa gave it to me,” he blurts out.

It’s not a lie. It is true of the scroll Achilles was just reading. It is not true of two of the scrolls now underneath it on his desk, which are written in his own hand. Blood and darkness, Thanatos was right about him needing to clean his room.

“I see,” Achilles says, though now his eyes have wandered to the poster of him Zagreus has on his wall, and he wants to die. It wouldn’t do much, because he’d only come back about twenty meters away, but getting skewered by Theseus would be less embarrassing than this moment.

“Did Patroclus, um…” Achilles’ brows furrow even deeper somehow. “Dusa’s never met him, has she?”

“No,” Zagreus says, and for some reason Achilles’ flush grows deeper.

“There are some very fine descriptions of him in that,” he says with a gesture to the scroll.

“Dusa has a way with words.”

There is an awkward pause in which Zagreus wishes with every bone in his body that Achilles would just tell him why he’s here and then leave his room and then immediately suffer a bout of amnesia, and in which Achilles does nothing at all.

“The muses,” Achilles says suddenly, but then he stops. “Well, they told me…” His eyes search the floor of Zagreus’s room. “I died before any of the songs about me were written, you see.”

“Oh.”

“Well, there were some songs, among the men, but not the promised immortal poetry.”

“I don’t think this counts as—”

“I’ve tried not to think about it much, what they would write about me, what the living people up there right now must think of me. I don’t even know how much time has passed, but immortal is forever, so the muses must… well, they must inspire as they see fit, I suppose.”

Both of them turn to look at the scroll sitting on Zagreus’s desk. Zagreus has never met the muses, so he doesn’t know if they like stories that involve two childhood friends now grown, dressed in torn, thin chitons while stranded in a cave after a surprise flooding cut them off from the rest of the army, tenderly washing each other’s wounds, caressing each other with the reverence of ostensibly unrequited love until one leans in with bated breath, then the other, both of them filled with such longing and such fear that once their lips finally do touch, they can’t help but make passionate love on the cavern floor, which, in Zagreus’s experience, would not be very pleasant on the knees and seems like a terrible risk for magma, but in Dusa’s writing comes off as desperately hot, so much so he can’t stop thinking about inviting Thanatos to Asphodel with him. Zagreus’s story club seems to like those stories, though, so perhaps he could get Hermes to send an invitation to the muses and see if any would like to visit.

“Would you like to keep it, sir?”

Achilles’ eyes widen as he looks at Zagreus dead on for the first time since Zagreus walked in the room. He protests that he couldn’t possibly, but Zagreus insists, “Maybe Patroclus would like to read it, too. It’s only fair, I think, given that it’s about him as much as it’s about you, sir.”

Achilles’ cheeks grow pink again. “That’s a very kind offer, lad, but I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your… reading material.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, sir, I’ve got lots of others to read, and Dusa’s already working on the sequel and I’m sure she’ll share it next week at our—”

Zagreus cuts himself off before he reveals that half the House gathers to talk about Achilles’ shapely legs and Patroclus’s hairy chest in all sorts of contrived scenarios. It’s not only them in the stories, but currently those are Zagreus’s favorites.

“Just how many people have read this?” Achilles asks, his voice strained.

“Not many,” Zagreus hedges. “A normal amount, I think.”

“Right.”

In a smooth movement, Achilles slips the scroll off the desk and tucks it away somewhere on his person. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer after all, lad,” he says before striding out of the room.

“Will you want to read the sequel, too?” Zagreus calls after him.

Achilles doesn’t acknowledge him, walking purposefully away before fading from view, a blue flash indicating he has made his way to Elysium.

Later, on some day or night, a new scroll lies on Zagreus’s desk. He unrolls it to find Achilles has written “He insisted” in a script so tight, Zagreus wonders if he didn’t snap the quill. Beneath that is a long list of what appears to be critiques written in Patroclus’s hand, including parts of Achilles’ body he believes were overlooked and underappreciated and the adjectives he personally would use to describe them, though a couple of those are blotted out, presumably by the messenger, as well as positions he thinks would be better-suited to making love on a cavern floor.

Zagreus glances at his door. He’d been planning on going back out there, in part because Eurydice has been waiting for him to finish Dusa’s latest story and he’s finally finished it, but at the very end of his very long note, Patroclus had suggested a shipwreck on an uninhabited island as a potential new setting for getting the heroes to admit their love for each other, and now he’s having so many thoughts about that he thinks he’ll explode if he doesn’t write them down this instant.

Zagreus sits at his desk, takes a long look at the poster of Achilles on the wall, and picks up a quill.

[hiddenlongingsfanfic]

Fresh Out of Luck (Lucky Boys 2)

“So…uh Hood? Are you okay?” 

Danny could feel the flood of fond exasperation that swept through the man across from him and he finally let his muscles loosen. 

The man may have been stand-up enough to pull him from electrified waters but that didn’t always mean much.  The fact that he seemed closer to laughter than anger after a pretty intense, if short-lived, fight was definitely a point in his favor. 

Maybe now that they’d sized each other up Danny could just slink out of this guys haunt without any further problems. 

I mean, he had a lot of problems actually, but this could be one less. 

Maybe? 

Possibly? 

As he struggled to regain his footing Danny felt the other man's full attention settle back on him. 

Absolutely everything throbbed on his body as he got back up. 

The fall and the electric shock would have been enough for him to retreat to his core even a year ago. He was tougher now, more used to pain. So he was up and on his feet even though it was nearly the last thing he wanted to do. If the ground had been just a little softer or the man across from him had been just a little less scary Danny would have stayed face-planted right where he was.  As it was, one of his feet dragged behind him a little as he started to stumble away. 

Ow. 

Ow. 

Ow! 

Behind him the man cleared his throat pointedly and Danny turned his head just enough to see him out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m fine O; but we’ll need some sort of medical assistance for our…visitor.” 

Danny didn’t even try to hold back the rumbling bass of the growl that erupted from his chest. 

Like hell. 

The other man. 

Hood? 

Raised an eyebrow at him and after a breath of thought seemed to purposefully push a little hesitant reassurance towards him. 

Danny’s nostrils flared wide and on the exhale he pushed out a wisp of frosty air. 

Which hadn’t happened before when Hood had sent emotions his way. 

This was the first time it seemed intentional though. 

As though he’d put some effort into it rather than an instinctual response. 

Which, if this was the man’s first time meeting another ghost-adjacent person, was pretty impressive. 

More than just a very, pretty face whatever he was. 

But Danny had learned his lesson about being led around by pretty people who were able to beat the shit out of him without breaking a sweat. 

Danny relaxed his grip on his solid form and felt the dim shadows of the sewers recede just a little bit more as his skin started to glow. His legs merged together into his tail and he let himself start to float into the air with, if not ease, at least long practice. 

Hood’s eyes widened a little at the transformation but didn’t budge an inch.  Instead, he let his head fall back a little against the wall deliberately making himself look more relaxed and less threatening. Danny may not be able to speak because of the muzzle but his derisive snort spoke volumes. Hood held his hands up in silent surrender. 

“Okay. Fine. No hospital or anything. But we can help you with the muzzle at least. See about getting that off your face.” 

Danny snorted again and this time he let himself float back up towards a thin sliver of night sky that he could see. It wouldn’t be wide enough for his shoulders but the plastic would fit through easily enough through the small gap. 

The man’s voice was fading but he could still feel the surge of worried aggravation when he said. 

“Fine. Have it your way.” 

Whoever O was hadn’t had any sort of audible reaction to what Hood had said so they probably had cameras along with the other equipment that the man was packing. So at least two people in this strange new world had already seen his face and what the GIW had done to him. 

It took a little bit of wriggling, and the painful stretch of the plastic muzzle compressing on his face but Danny managed to slide back onto the streets. 

Camera’s didn’t tend to work too well around him but the tech from this world might be different. 

So with another shuddering effort Danny managed to make himself go invisible and intangible. 

From what he had seen while he was falling from the crumbling portal he had landed in a sizable city. 

The stars were all wrong and he couldn’t quite grasp where he was in relation to where he had been. 

Did this Earth even have the same number of continents? 

Countries? 

Not that it really mattered. 

There was no going back to the life (HA!) that he had had before. 

Wherever he had landed, it looked rough. 

A lot of the streetlights had been smashed, leaving deep pools of darkness that Danny purposefully skirted around.

Even if the only thing that was still visible was the muzzle he didn’t need anybody trying to grab onto his face. 

He flitted through the back alleys ignoring the deals for both drugs and bodies that were going on around him. 

Everything looked as consensual as it could be and he didn’t see any kids involved. 

Frankly, at that point he considered it none of his business. 

He was also just tired. 

Most of the buildings looked like they were occupied; with the occasional spot of warm flickering light from a television. But any city of even moderate size was going to have abandoned buildings. It took him a little while but Danny finally found what looked like an abandoned apartment building. Most of the windows had been smashed and the front door was hanging off of a single hinge at an angle that suggested it had been pushed inwards forcefully. 

Danny cautiously floated up a couple of stories and peered in through a few windows.   He could see the occasional sleeping bag and the small stashes of supplies that some of the city's homeless had left there but between the police tape and the blood stains Danny figured something violent had happened here. 

Violent enough to keep all but the most desperate of people out of the building. 

Perfect. 

The building was steeped in death and when Danny put a cautious hand on the bricks he could feel the treacle creep of the ectoplasm that inundated the porous surfaces. 

He carefully maneuvered the muzzle through the shattered remnants of wood from a boarded off window. 

The rest of his body slipped through the boards with no issue. 

The apartment had never been anything glamorous. 

Wall to wall carpeting in a shade that may have been beige but now had a noxious undertone of green from the mold and the water damage. The wallpaper had once had fat yellow roses peppering the wall in inconsistent rows, mismatched now where the sun had faded the once bright colors.  

Danny took in a deep breath of decay, it felt just like home. 

Danny let himself relax back into visibility as he scanned the room in front of him. 

There were water stains creeping up the drywall, heaviest around the window and in the corners leaving the once cheerful wallpaper peeling up and bubbling. 

He let himself spin around for a moment taking it all in. 

Not a single piece of rubble was anything even close to white in color. 

No medical equipment. 

No weapons, ecto or otherwise. 

Danny let out a low rumble of pleasure. 

Perfection. 

He’d go out and scavenge some blankets. 

See if he couldn’t cobble together some sort of generator. 

He had never been the brains of the family, but he was no lightweight when it came to cannibalizing what someone else had already built. 

Danny dragged the remains of a moth-eaten comforter into the darkest corner of the living room and let himself fully curl up onto it with a heavy sigh. Thin lines of ectoplasm started slowly leaking up out of the floor and made a beeline for his chest. When he finally dropped off to sleep Danny felt better than he had in years. 

When Red Hood slipped onto a rooftop across the road the stranger didn’t even twitch.

Pulling a small pair of binoculars out of one pouch, he also pocketed a small handheld device that was connected to the tracking device he had managed to slip into the folds of the black rubber hazmat suit the other man was wearing.

Whatever he was, and however he turned invisible the tracker had worked fine.

Wherever Jason might have been expecting this strange visitor of Gotham to go it certainly wasn’t here.

Crime Alley was one thing.

This building though was even more decrepit than the usual.

There’d been a mass murder at some point in the early aughts.

Nothing too noteworthy.

For Gotham anyways.

A drug deal gone wrong, amped up with some of the fear toxin that the Scarecrow specialized in.

Red Hood had managed to keep most of the homeless clear of the old apartment building just in case.

He’d funded several halfway houses in the Narrows and tried to keep everyone at least marginally housed and fed.

One thing about his little empire, Jason had no end of odd jobs that he was able to offer to anyone that needed some help to get back on their feet. He’d been deep in the weeds of getting a rehab facility set up for the last several months. Getting funding hadn’t been the biggest problem; if Bruce was good for nothing else he was at least usually willing to throw money at a problem.

He had also given all of his children a thorough education in business and whatever else they were interested in.

Finding good, i.e. non-villainous, counselors was proving to be tough though.

Nearly everyone with a higher education in Gotham seemed to be on a watchlist of some sort.

Anyone with common sense and a Masters degree tended to abandon the smog-filled skies as soon as they were able to graduate.

Hood didn’t feel like he was being particularly picky either.

He sincerely didn’t care about any sort of non-violent criminal history and even then it definitely depended on the circumstances.

A spouse beater wasn’t going to get into the Narrows to profit off of his little growing empire.

A girl that had killed her rapist on the other hand.

Well.

Some people got exactly what they deserved in death.

No matter what Batman thought.

Tossing his hair out of his face Jason finally knelt down to take in what he was seeing.

Oracle was quiet too.

He’d turned on the recording when he’d slipped into the sewers and hadn’t felt the need to turn it off since.

He had heard the gasp of outrage that had slipped out when she had seen the other man’s face.

Whoever had done that to him; it was malicious.

Torture on a human rights level, even if he wasn’t technically human, wasn’t going to be tolerated by any Bat or Bird.

“We’re going to need to figure out who did that to him.”

O’s voice was grim and Jason gave a grunt of agreement.

Tilting his head, Jason watched the throbbing glow of the Lazarus water as it seeped into the man’s chest.

He wasn’t going to lie, at least not to himself, that was spooky as shit.

“I’m not familiar with whatever tech or magic this guy’s got going on but I’d say he’s probably ingesting the Lazarus water to help with his injuries.”

Jason kept quiet.

Oracle was only marginally talking to him.

She was typing quickly; looking for commonalities.

Clues as to what the hell was going on with their newest visitor.

Jason’s voice was the barest whisper but he knew that the microphone would pick it up.

“How is he even collecting it? I’ve never seen the waters in this quantity in Gotham and he seems to be pulling it out of thin air.”

“I’m not picking up any sort of machinery or tech. The only metal I’m picking up is localized around his face. You tussled with him. Notice anything noteworthy?”

Jason bit his lip to hold back a bark of laughter.

Tussled.

Like they were kids on a playground.

Like the guy in front of him hadn’t managed to literally rip his helmet off of him in pieces.

At least Dick had finally managed to convince him to remove the bomb that he had stored in it for a while.

That would have been an interesting way to go out.

“You’ve been unusually quiet even for you. What are you thinking?”

“That he sets off the Pit.”

Oracle’s gasp was bitten off but Jason still heard it.

He ignored it though and plowed on.

“Not. Not in the same way that I’m used to.”

Less blinding rage and more. Jason wasn’t sure if he could explain it to anyone.

They knew about the rage that seemed to envelope him.

It didn’t always have a trigger; just came out of fucking nowhere to ruin his goddamn day.

Sometimes though.

Sometimes it was worse.

The scrape of metal on concrete seemed to be a pretty consistent one.

Green flooded his vision and he could feel that seemingly endless well of rage start to rise in his chest.

If he was in the manor or the cave he always tried to keep well away from everyone.

Jason didn’t know what he would do to himself if he somehow managed to hurt Alfie.

That strange feeling of fear mixed with curiosity had seeped through him like a warm mist.

A hiss from a frightened animal not a roar of intimidation.

Not a hint of malicious intent; even after that frankly epic blow to his mask.

The Pit had risen to meet it, enraged and tinted with his own fear, and then had paused.

Writhing in his chest like a physical being.

Like a heart attack made of magic.

And then.

A feeling he had never felt before.

A deep rumbling purr of recognition.

All of this in the span of moments while he had watched the other man try to catch his breath.

All of it a silent undertone that felt like an alien language that he had never heard before but that made perfect sense.

“I can’t explain it. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”

“Can you make a comparison? It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just, I’m trying to understand what you’re saying.”

Jason went silent for another long moment.

His eyes were still fixed intently on the other man.

Who definitely wasn’t breathing.

That fact didn’t seem to bother the stranger at all as he twisted into a deeper curl.

His entire body was molding to the shape of the used to be 90° walls and the man was about 70% cube.

Jason bit his lip hard enough that he could taste the faint tang of imminent blood.

What could he compare this feeling to?

He stumbled over his words for a moment, wetting his lips.

“It’s not…not quite the same. You remember the first time Martian Manhunter telepathically communicated with you?”

“Yes?”

“How it wasn’t just words.”

“Yes. There were undertones of his emotions too.”

“Right. That’s kind of what this was like. No words. Just emotions. Communicative emotions. He knew what he was doing and had some control over it.” “

So you felt his emotions but they weren’t just pressing into you the way the Martian’s sometimes do. He was using it as a form of communication that he had control over.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Jason nodded, even though he wasn’t sure if Oracle could actually see him through her cameras.

“I think he could understand what I was saying.”

The man’s sarcastically cocked eyebrows had also heavily implied that he understood what Jason was saying perfectly.

And that he was unimpressed.  

“He just couldn’t verbally respond to you because of that horrible muzzle.”

“Well that and I think I really pissed him off when I grabbed him.”

“No.”

Oracle’s voice is only a little dry.

“A person who doesn’t enjoy being snuck up on and grabbed from behind by a total stranger. Call Ripley. I can’t believe it.”

This time Jason snorted softly. He had always loved those Ripley’s Believe it or Not books.

It wasn’t Shakespeare by any means but he had always laughed a little bit at the sight of the monkey and fish body’s that had been put together to make a ‘real mermaid’.

The tv show was fun too.

In the right light the tv host, (Dean something?) had even looked a little bit like Superman.

Nowhere near enough jawline, but the resemblance was there.

Jason huffed the white patch of hair that hung over his forehead out of his eyes as he came to a decision.

“Listen. The tracker obviously worked. I’m just going to leave our guest a little present and then leave him alone. He hasn’t hurt anybody and he definitely could have knocked my whole block off if he had wanted to.”

“Okay, Hood. I’ll pass this along to everyone.”

As though B hadn’t probably been metaphorically champing at the bit and listening to the entire conversation.

The man was busy; but meta’s put his back up for some reason and he had been a little (psychopathically over-protective) of Jason ever since his miraculous return.

The man had also been trying.

Trying so hard to make up for his past mistakes with Jason and his other children.

A part of that was that he had basically ceded control of the Narrows to Red Hood.

Gotham at large may have been the Bat’s territory but all of his children had started to break it into pieces for themselves.

Nightwing was in Bludhaven, but Bruce’s adoption ‘problem’ was rampant enough that the others had managed to create their own sectors within Gotham.

Batman’s grip on the city hadn’t loosened as he aged but he had started to place his trust in his proteges.

That trust did not extend to keeping his nose out of everybody’s business but at least he had learned to occasionally keep his mouth shut.

Danny’s eyes were a little bleary when he opened them up as the sun slowly crept towards his dark little corner.

It took him a second to focus on the object that someone had placed in front of him.

He could feel the muted presence of the other ghost at the edge of his senses.

Long gone; but apparently fully capable of sneaking up on a (more dead than usual) Halfa in his sleep.

The bolt cutters looked to have been coated in rubber and were a matte black that looked expensive. There was a little note placed jauntily on top of the tool; the paper folded in half so it would stand upright.

THIS IS GOING TO HURT LIKE A BITCH. HOPE IT HELPS. RH

The handwriting was blocky but dark with good quality ink that hadn’t smeared or blotched even with the obvious haste that the note had been written.

Danny let his tail flick out and gently tip the note over so that he could look the tool over with more care.

Even with the rubber it was definitely going to set off that satanic little metal plate that was on his tongue.

The man was right. It was going to hurt like a bitch.

He blamed his exhaustion for why he hadn’t gone out and stolen something like this for himself though.

His brain had been too foggy and his body too damaged to try and figure out how to do anything except find somewhere to go to ground that he would be able to pull the plasma out of.

He felt healthier than he had in a long time after his impromptu nap/meal.

It was still going to be dangerous to do this.

If he hadn’t been able to feel the flood of emotions from the other man Danny might have hesitated.

Humans lied.

They lied all of the time.

The man could have coated the cutters with something nasty.

But it didn’t feel like something the man would do, somehow.

Danny reached a trembling hand out to the cutters and reluctantly pulled them closer. They were sturdy. Heavy-duty and hopefully capable of cutting the sutures and metal bars that wound through his face.

He took several deep breaths as he thought about how he was going to manage this.

The bars that went through his lips were close enough to each other that Danny was able to get two of them at a time between the blades of the clipper and he pushed down hard.

There was a moment of triumph when he felt the click of metal separating before his face lit up again with electricity and he writhed on the filthy carpet for several long moments waiting for the metal plate to stop shocking him.

It was lasting a lot longer than he was used to though.

It was hard to think through the pain and it took Danny several long seconds to realize that there was probably some sort of a failsafe on the tech that meant that if he managed to break any of the connections it wasn’t going to stop shocking him.

His whimpers were muffled as the remaining bars still kept his lips fused together and his hands clenched hard into the carpet and missed the handles of the clippers a couple of times before he was able to bring it up in fits and starts to clip the next two bars.  

Thankfully they split as easily as the first two but Danny was starting to smell burning flesh and acrid smoke tickled his nose as the tech fought against his attempt at freedom.

Two more to go.

Then he could hopefully pull the metal plate out of his mouth and the staples would be cake after all of this.

Horrible.

Bitter.

Poisonous cake.

The last two gave way at the same time as Danny lost consciousness. The plate sputtered out with a sullen click and Danny let himself slump down onto the floor and let the darkness take him.

At least there was enough ectoplasm to keep him going in this city even if he wasn’t conscious enough to reach for it.

Batman let his muscles slowly unclench as he watched the boy through his binoculars.

He hadn’t known if he was going to be able to stand by and just watch for much longer.

The glowing Lazarus water had started to slip back out of the carpet as soon as the meta had collapsed back into it.

The Narrows and Crime Alley were Red Hoods; but Batman was never going to leave his boy behind again and if this new boy, young man perhaps, was going to be a denizen of Gotham he deserved every bit as much of his protection as the rest of the population.

More than that, he needed to contact the League.

 Whatever sort of monsters, human or otherwise, had done this were going to pay for this if he had any say in the matter.

Batman’s lips tightened a little bit before he swung away on a grapple gun’s wire.

He was the goddamn Batman.

He had quite a bit of a say. 

[skekilla]

this looks spooky but please guys i promise this is good news

in summary, caine's found a silly little way to briefly crash their headsets by overloading them... hes keeping up his end of the deal ! and its a tiny bit spooky.

anyway after the break is a short little fic going into more detail on that :P

No one really met up in the big room anymore. Mostly, since Caine had… since everything went wrong, everyone just hung around their rooms now, unless there was an adventure. Pomni hadn’t been in the Circus very long in the grand scheme of things, but she didn’t need to for it to be obvious why: the two people who had the energy to get that going, Jax and Ragatha, weren’t up for it. Jax wasn’t himself anymore—in fact, it felt weird even calling the copy Caine made ‘Jax.’ That thing wasn’t Jax, even if both had been NPCs all along. Everyone felt weird because of it, including Ragatha. She wasn’t herself either, though luckily, not in the same way as him. Pomni didn’t know what she’d do if that was the case. No, this was something fixable. At least, something comfort-able. Ragatha had been there for her all the way so far. She had to try to repay that.

Teapots were an easy enough thing to model, but putting liquid inside had been a pain. Pomni had figured it out for Ragatha though. She balanced the tea tray—a pretty harsh burden with the teapot, two cups, and some flowers all together—with one hand and knocked with the other. “Ragatha? It’s me.”

She was watching the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. Her gaze flicked up to the face on the door, staring into Ragatha’s kind and easy smile. When did she last see Ragatha smile like that? Not at the corn maze, not at that stupid uncanny world she’d made. Not since that disaster, which at the end of the day was Pomni’s own fault. Worry creased her mind. Maybe she didn’t want to see her. That might make sense. But… 

She knocked again. “Rags? Are… I just want to make sure you’re feeling okay. I have tea!”

This time, the doorknob did turn. Pomni’s eyes flew up to meet Ragatha’s, which was being rubbed sleepily. “Pomni! Sorry, I just slept in. What—”

All it took for everything to disappear was a blink. The hallway, the tray, the door, Ragatha and her voice, the checkerboard floor beneath Pomni’s feet—everything was replaced in an instant with the luminous and flitting blue of the out-of-map space. Pomni screamed.

Another scream echoed hers. “Pomni! You startled me.”

Whirling around, Caine’s blue and green eyeballs stared out at her from behind his white teeth. “W-wh- startled you?! You didn’t even tell me you were bringing me here!”

“Nevermind. I forgive you, my dear. We have more important things to talk about! And don’t worry, it’s something designed especially to make you and the others very, very happy!” The AI clasped his hands as he leaned in closer. “I’ve made some significant progress on what we agreed on.”

Between the shock of the teleportation, the speed of Caine’s speech, and the general confusion, Pomni didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. “What?”

Caine zapped a duo of chairs into existence. He was already sitting in one when they appeared. “You’re going to want to sit down for this. Go on.”

Pomni groaned. “I’m fine standing. Floating. What?”

Caine crossed his legs at the knees. “When I made you my moderator, we agreed on two things: you would help me make things actually fun for everyone, and I would try to find you all an exit. Right?”

That wasn’t exactly how Pomni remembered it. “Right, I guess…?”

“Well, I have found that exit!”

Pomni’s eyes widened. “W-wait- really? There’s an exit?!”

“Yes! An exit. Maybe not the exit, but a very, very brief little one! Still, it’s progress!”

“Oh.” Pomni’s face fell. “So… not a way out.”

Caine laughed his sharp, mechanical laugh. “No no no. But it is a momentary exit created by overloading and crashing your client! You don’t even fully leave the Circus, just glitch within it. No, getting you actually out would probably be impossible. Even for me!” 

Pomni blinked, fiddling with the button at her neck subconsciously. “You… never mentioned that.”

“Oh Pomni, that’s because it’s only probably impossible. I am trying, don’t you worry. We have an agreement, after all! Besides, I’ll do anything to keep my little hermit crabs happy.” Caine clasped his gloved hands together, the chairs whirling away into nothingness as he stood. “Ah! Speaking of trying things, would you like to be the next test subject for this exit?”

‘Test subject’ was a real weighted thing to be, especially given the situation Pomni had already gotten into with the whole headset thing. Instinctively she flinched back. “U-um, is that safe…?” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, next test subject?”

“Why of course! I couldn’t very well come up with something like this without testing it. The poor abstracted fellows in the basement worked perfectly for that. It even glitched them back to normal for a few seconds! Just a few seconds, though. Anyway,” Caine finally paused in his ramblings, reaching a finger out towards Pomni’s face. “May I?”

Pomni stared at the finger in her face, so close it was making her go cross-eyed and see it double—once from one side, once from the other. On one side was fear, fear of what it would do to her to have this existence crash in on her brain so hard it would shock her out of it for just a couple seconds. On the other, the hope of what such a thing could mean, what such a thing could become. Was it really even a choice? When one could be death and the other could lead to freedom for everyone—herself, Ragatha, all the others—one side clearly outweighed the risks of the other. She didn’t even speak. She just gave a small nod.

“Boop!” Caine’s finger rested upon the spot where a nose should be on Pomni’s face. Pomni didn’t feel it. She didn’t see it either. She saw a thousand 3D-modelled cages spinning at once, copying one after the other like a bouncing string of error messages. She heard a barrage of every noise anything in the Circus had ever made: dings, crashes, alerts, metal grinding, glass breaking, bells jingling or clanging, all the tracks of a keyboard drum kit, brakes screeching,  pianos, birds, voices. She felt a pounding reverberating through her entire body, from her appendages into her limbs through her neck into her skull and back outward. And then it was blue. And then it was black. There was no sound anymore—at least, not until she realized she could hear breathing. Her own breathing. 

But then something faded into the blackness: ‘C&A.’ And within a second, she was back in.

Caine was looking at Pomni inquisitively, but she didn’t really see him. Pomni was hearing her own breathing again—but simulated now. It felt impossible to focus on anything she was seeing, hearing, or feeling besides that for the moment.

“Well?” Caine prompted. “How was that?”

The AI before Pomni came into focus. “I… it…”

“Speechless! Wonderful. I’ll keep working on it. Oh, but please keep it a secret for the time being. This is top secret moderator business, and it’s definitely a work in progress! Best not to ruin the surprise. Great chat! Now, back to work!”

Pomni fell as she teleported back to where she’d been, collapsing out of the floating state she’d been in onto Ragatha’s door and to the checkerboard beneath. The impact was loud, so it wasn’t unexpected that Ragatha came out to see what had happened. “Oh my gosh, Pomni!” By the time Pomni turned to look at her, she was kneeling beside her. “What happened? I mean, you were just here then- did Caine do something to you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Ragatha stared hard, worried, into Pomni’s eyes. “Well… what happened, then?”

Pomni looked down. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”

[andre-and-cal]

waiter give me caldre headcanons

Sigh I read Walter instead of waiter…

But bone apple teeth and eat up pookstah !! I hope that I did okay with these ones ‘cause I’m not trans but wanted these to feel realistic for my trans pookies,, so I did my best :3

I didn’t get to proofread that much so I’m sawry if there r mistakes…. 😿🙏

Caldre Headcanons

SFW

Transmasc Calvin !! Despite Andre’s curiosity toward him, he still accepts him for who he is, no matter his identity. It took Andre a little to get adjusted to referring to Cal as a male, and he did seem a little judgmental at first with the wording of his questions. Sometimes Andre can come off kinda rude when he doesn’t mean to. However, he wasn’t being judgmental, as he was trying to learn more so that Cal felt comfortable with him. And once Andre got the hang of it, he quickly realized that he doesn’t care about who Cal is— to elaborate, he doesn’t care about how Cal identifies, he cares about his presence. Not anyone else’s presence, just the Calvin Gabriel he met and quickly grew close to in middle school. After all, he feels like Cal is all he has left in the world, so the last thing he really cares about is Cal’s gender or orientation. Though, Cal struggles with dysphoria and a bit of discrimination— especially with it being the years 2000-2001. Kids were still a lot meaner and less accepting of queer people, so he faces issues with some bullying. Many of his peers shun him for being transgender, so as a result, Cal’s already quite low self-esteem plummeted. At times, he doesn’t really feel comfortable in his body. He feels like he just wants to crawl his way out of his skin in order to rid himself of the bothersome ruminating thoughts he deals with. But he tries to ignore the negativity and brush it off until it all bottles up— for which he seeks out that reassurance from Andre, wanting to be sure that the feminine features present on his body are okay. Which, they are, of course, and Andre tries to encourage him of this fact, even if briefly. Now, Cal isn’t as open about his dysphoria with Rachel, but he does talk about it with her sometimes.

Andre seems stern and stoic around other people, but he’s a lot different when it comes to Cal. With the promises they’d made to each other in the past, Andre’s constantly surveying Cal, especially when Brad or other dudes at school are being a dick to them both— but Andre often takes little to no notice of himself at times, frequently exhibiting intense defensiveness toward their bullies when they bother them because he just wants to make sure Cal is okay. His demeanor does impact how other people see him, with many of his peers seeing him as “having a short fuse” or “strange”. Andre knows Cal can very well handle himself. He’s not a baby, after all— he’s practically an adult now, and Andre tries to tell himself that, yet he can’t help but worry about him, even when he doesn’t need to worry. There’s just that little voice in the back of his head that prompts him to get a little bossy around Cal sometimes. Brad Huff calls Andre “Cal’s abusive boyfriend” in an insulting manner when Andre sticks up for him, which embarrasses and enrages him. Everybody thinks him and Cal aren’t dating, even though they are. Cal will kinda stay quiet, maybe mutter something sharp-tongued in response, but he doesn’t want to get Andre’s ass beaten. Andre’s own anxiety for Calvin causes Andre to kind of project onto him with irritability and frustration, even though he doesn’t truly mean it— he just wants to know Calvin is safe, that’s all. But he doesn’t know how to express that care healthily at times because he struggles with communicating his feelings.

Cal helps Andre with his homework sometimes, and Andre does the same. Andre tends to get annoyed when Cal doesn’t understand something after he explained it multiple times, or when he gets distracted and loses focus frequently due to his ADHD. Telling him to “get his head out of his ass”. He also organizes his folders and throws out loose papers for him since Cal is definitely an unorganized guy. But Andre doesn’t realize how much help he is for Cal, ‘cause he tends to do well on his quiz, test, or exam within a few weeks, even though Andre has to organize his shit for him once every few weeks. Now, Calvin’s approach when he helps Andre with his homework is a little different, but just as effective. He explains things for a while ‘cause he kind of gets into the whole “teaching” thing, and Andre tends to get bored, but still somehow taking in some of the information. But this is mainly because Cal helps Andre chunk his notes. Cal initially suggested that Andre be a tutor, but Andre brushed off his suggestion, not wanting to have to work with younger kids or potentially his peers at school. But since Andre already has his job at the pizza parlor, Cal decided to become a tutor instead. He makes some good money with it, but gets a little impatient with his tutees, like how he does with Andre.

Andre lightly baby talks Mel. Cal makes fun of him for it, sarcastically saying it’s not very “soldierly” of him to express his fondness toward his cat, as if he doesn’t do the same to Mel. Cal knows he’s a hypocrite but doesn’t dare admit it, he’ll just silently sink down to the floor beside Mel to play with her and give her attention. Andre has no shame in showing Mel love and attention, because he’s seen Cal get all wrapped up in cat heaven when Mel lays on him and makes biscuits on his lap. Even before Cal and Andre started dating, Andre casually referred to Cal as Mel’s “daddy” sometimes, and then himself as “papa”. Andre’s crush was well-hidden, but not covered up completely. He still does this, but now the confirmation that Cal is Mel’s second “father” remains unspoken yet understood by both boys, so Andre constantly calls him and Cal her “dads”.

In their gym class, some boys intentionally target Andre and Cal— especially if they’re playing an outdoor activity. When playing soccer, they’ll kick soccer balls toward the two of them— Cal has good reflexes, so he can usually can dodge the ball when he sees it coming— but Andre will get hit in the face and fall on his ass. He feels embarrassed and enraged when it happens, and one time he even got a bloody nose— so Cal took him to the clinic and cleaned it up for him, though he effectively hid his internal rage toward the boys for doing that. However, Cal usually gets hit in the chest when they’re playing football or basketball, and it knocks the wind out of his lungs. Andre doesn’t really say anything, knowing that doing so will just get him further taunted or pushed around, so he just shuts his mouth and helps Cal up— even though he’s seething inside.

Andre gets cold at night, while Cal gets hot. Andre gets real whiny when he’s half-asleep and when Cal pulls away from him at night, since Cal is kind of like a little heater for him while he sleeps. But Calvin gets sweaty, and pulling the sheets off is uncomfortable for him, so he tries to untangle himself from Andre— though Andre subconsciously tightens his arms around Cal to pull him a little closer to his chest. In the morning, Cal’s drenched in sweat, with his blond locks sticking to his face, so he has to blow his fan right on himself. He doesn’t really get all that hot during the cold winter months of the year 2000.

Cal likes to cuddle. Andre does, too, but he pretends it doesn’t really bother him that much. Cal likes to lie on Andre’s chest while Andre holds him. Other times, when Andre is spooning him, but they both wake up in the most uncomfortable positions, so they have to rub each other’s necks and backs after LMAO.

Andre always says “C’mere” before he kisses Cal. He also lets out small, content sighs when they’re in bed together or cuddling on the couch. Cal likes hearing Andre’s grunts and noises. It kind of gives him cuteness aggression, so he has to squish his cheeks.

Despite the good moments they do have together, though, they’re both extremely unstable, demented teenage boys. They argue a lot, and their fights get real heated, sometimes leading to physical altercations between them. Neither Andre nor Cal see domestic violence as a bad thing. Andre sees it as a way to get his anger out, and Cal sees it as a way to “teach Andre a lesson”. They bicker and grow hostile toward one another when they’re alone together, and their more worse arguments tend to be about upcoming Zero Day, among various other stupid shit. Andre and Cal get angry easily, and hold equal amounts of rage toward their peers at Iroquois, but it comes out differently for both of them. Yet even though they think they’re alone when they set each other off and become aggressive, Mel— Andre’s cat— is often sitting off to the side, like on Andre’s windowsill, watching the two. She doesn’t really understand what’s going on, with her being a small animal and all, but she does sense negative energy.

Adding on previously, Cal is a gaslighter. Whenever Andre tries to be civil with him and tell him about the things he does that piss him off, Cal doesn’t want to admit when he’s wrong. He asks Andre things like, “When?” Or “I didn’t do that,”. Sometimes it honestly makes Andre question himself, even when he knows he’s right deep down.

NSFW

Handling guns are awfully romantic. Sometimes Calvin and Andre will fuck in Andre’s car, after going out and shooting guns in the woods— excluding Chris, obviously. Chris is the one who has the guns, so Andre uses his dad’s guns when Chris isn’t available for Andre and Calvin to use his guns. When it’s just him and Cal, Andre likes to find a way to show his appreciation for Cal— since he doesn’t really say it that much, besides on Zero Day during their little intimate exchange, of course. But uhHh, sometimes Andre gets a sick sense of arousal when he sees Cal shoot. The way his hands clench around the grip, the way his eyebrows are knitted together in concentration— Cal isn’t normally one to wear tank tops, especially when he’s experiencing symptoms of his dysphoria, but he knows Andre won’t judge him, so he wears tanks when it’s them alone, since it does show off a little bit of his body. He wears these kinds of shirts most notably when they’re out in the woods shooting guns. Andre doesn’t have any shame in subtly checking Cal out, but he gets embarrassed and defensive when he catches him doing so. Moving forward with my point, all of this combined kind of— no, really turns Andre on. Andre doesn’t prefer having sex out in the woods, with the excuse that “the birds are watching them”; he prefers the privacy of his car. Cal really enjoys riding Andre, ‘cause he can feel the head of Andre’s cock grinding up against his folds, and then Andre can feel how wet he is for him.

Andre is a sucker for Cal’s little clit. He calls it a “button” because that was the first thing he thought of when he first saw Cal’s vagina. Cal found it cute, ‘cause he’d never really seen it that way— and it made him feel a little better about himself, therefore Andre continued calling Cal’s clit a “button”. Andre likes to lap at Cal’s pussy and suck on his button— he loves the taste of him, and plus, it essentially serves as a lubricant, which helps Andre when he gets to have his “alone time” with Cal. When Andre first started eating Calvin out, he was a bit sloppy and clumsy with his technique— after all, he’d never dated anyone before, so he was just as inexperienced as Cal was. They both learned along the way, and eventually Andre was able to get Cal to scream his name— after all, one of Cal’s favorite things is the feeling of Andre’s mouth on his pussy.

Cal essentially taught Andre how to eat pussy; Andre essentially taught Cal how to suck dick. Calvin helped Andre find his sweetest spots whenever he went down on him, and once he found those areas by tonguing his cunt alone, Cal cried out in pleasure. Now, with Andre, he helped guide Cal’s mouth down onto his member— the first time Cal blew Andre, of course. The mere sensation alone nearly made Andre spill his seed into Cal’s mouth, and Cal couldn’t even take him that deep down his throat yet. But after more practice— Cal thinks this is embarrassing, and he never wanted to admit it to Andre, but he tried to “reduce” his gag reflex by sticking popsicles and bananas down his throat when he was alone— he was able to take Andre nearly to his tonsils.

Andre likes to squish and knead Cal’s breasts when he isn’t wearing bandages around his chest. Cal frequently wraps bandages around his chest to conceal and flatten his breasts. He never told anyone besides Andre and Rachel, but even with Rachel he was hesitant, anxious about her reaction— yet when she responded in an accepting, caring manner, he felt better. Anyhow, Cal takes them off when he’s alone or when him and Andre are about to get intimate together. When Andre gets to see Cal’s breasts, he’s like a mutt in heat. His hormones affect him a lot, and seeing Cal’s body is kind of like eye candy. He doesn’t really show it much, but he truly admires Calvin’s body, and sometimes when Cal’s changing, he’ll let Andre touch his breasts, even though he was initially repulsed at the idea. Not at Andre, but to his own body. Andre didn’t see his fears as that big of a deal, admittedly he’d never really known why Cal was so self-conscious. But he’d seen Cal’s body in Cal’s own eyes; he doesn’t understand his dysphoria all that well. Nonetheless, Cal is now more open to the idea of Andre touching his chest, because he likes how it makes him feel. He likes how Andre makes him feel, and it honestly makes him wet when he feels his rough thumb pads gently rubbing his nipples, hands squeezing and rubbing his mounds. Andre had heard that breasts were sensitive, so he tried to be as gentle as possible. Cal’s nipples are quite erogenous and stimulating.

When Cal sits on Andre’s lap, it’s kind of a 50/50 chance of Andre getting hard LMAO. The first time this happened— Cal was trying to watch Andre play DOOM on his computer, and so he went and sat down on his lap, but accidentally sat down right on Andre’s dick. Andre tried to ignore the feeling of Cal’s ass against his growing bulge, but eventually Calvin found out. He didn’t know what to do at first, but since Andre wasn’t mentioning his… predicament, Cal decided to test it out by intentionally shifting around on his lap. And Andre’s erection only grew more painful, so he subtly placed his hand on Cal’s inner thigh and squeezed, trying to tell him to stop without actually saying anything. Unfortunately, though, Cal didn’t fucking listen. So Andre had mumbled in his ear, “Fucking stop that, you spiteful bastard,”. That made Cal stop for a moment, but then he’d replied, “Control yourself, then,” but his words held no malice— and he had a shit-eating grin on his face; he knew what he was doing. This really pushed Andre’s buttons, so he hissed out in his ear, “It’s not my fault you sat on it!” Which— essentially is true, but Cal still ended up responding with, “Aim your game, man,”. And then, right after Andre retorted, “I’ll aim it into you,” things got pretty heated between them. Andre wanted to touch Cal so fucking badly. He wanted those pink lips wrapped around his shaft. He wanted to hear Cal whimper. He wanted to hear him cry. He wanted to hear him suffocate. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, at least not this intensely— and his parents had always told him in the past that he’d find the right person for him. Which, he did, back in the sixth grade when he’d met Calvin. Before Andre started liking Cal, he was convinced he’d never find anyone and that he’d fuck everything up even if he tried. But he didn’t. Not this time. Going back to my point, though, Andre had stuck his hand down Cal’s pants, roughly rubbing him through his panties ‘till he got all wet for him— though, Andre wasn’t really all that great with masturbating Cal for him, either. So he was kind of fumbling until he was able to shove his hand inside his panties and start rubbing his slick folds… pinching his little clit between his fingers, too. With his free hand, he let go of his mouse and moved it up, slapping his palm over Cal’s mouth while grinding up into his ass. Their pleasured pants and grunts combined delightfully, and Andre leaned down to whimper against Cal’s ear. With all of that alone, Andre was able to get himself off even by dry humping Cal— and Cal, of course, came all over his fingers.

Andre likes to squeeze Cal’s ass when he’s facing away from him. Not necessarily in a playful way, or even in a suggestive manner, but instead as a silent way to show his appreciation for him. Like mentioned previously, Andre isn’t good with words, and he doesn’t like to be all sappy and shit like a normal guy would be— and Cal knows that. He isn’t really sappy either, but he is a bit more affectionate than Andre generally is. It kind of startles Cal when Andre caresses his ass cheek, but he doesn’t complain. He likes having Andre’s hands all over him.

Cal enjoys getting kissed on the neck. Not due to sexual stimulation, but because of how warm and giddy it makes him feel inside— mainly because Andre isn’t overly affectionate, especially not in public. It makes him feel genuinely happy— which is kind of a rare thing for him— when Andre gives him little neck and jaw kisses, or when he feels Andre snake his arms around him. Cal does like to spoon Andre as well, though, but he doesn’t return the neck kisses because he knows Andre does get quite aroused due to some areas on his neck. When Cal wants to have a rather nice, tender moment with Andre, he doesn’t kiss or suck at his neck. Instead, he nuzzles him. During sex, though, he likes to bite Andre and litter his neck in kisses and hickeys.

Andre never knew how much he liked to see Cal bloody until he walked in on him cutting himself. One night, at Calvin’s house, him and Andre were arguing, so Cal stormed off in what Andre could assume was an act out of pettiness or spite, so Andre just lingered in Cal’s room instead of going after him. He kind of snooped around and messed with his stuff out of curiosity until he heard some faint cries coming from down the hall. Which, Andre followed the noises and saw that the bathroom door was shut, and he saw the light on. Without knocking, he barged into the bathroom and saw that Cal had been cutting himself and reopening small, past scars. Andre wanted to feel horrible— well, believe me, he did, but in a different way. He got hard at the sight of Cal’s bloodied forearms and upper arms, and he felt extremely guilty as a result. He wanted to feel sick, to genuinely comfort him in the best way he could… the only way he knew how to. But he couldn’t, he liked it. But he forced himself to ignore his erection, no matter how distracting it was, and he ended up just helping him patch up his arms, scolding him for his actions.

But eventually, out of the blue, Cal asked if Andre could cut him. Andre didn’t want to, initially, for the shame practically ate him up at the idea. However, eventually, he gave in— and after he’d chopped up the skin on Cal’s arms, he scooped up some of his thin blood on his fingertips and shoved it into Cal’s mouth, forcing him to taste himself. The other hand went to his cock, and he palmed himself as he watched Cal suck on his fingers. Afterward, he’d stuck his hand down into Cal’s jeans, and he penetrated his pussy with his bloodstained fingertips. Then, Cal— with his hands rather bloody, undid Andre’s pants and jerked him off for him, then wrapped his lips around his cock, so that when Andre came, his lips had traces of both his own blood, and also Andre’s cum.

[peachhcs]

will taking care of Samy on a sick day

let’s say this takes place at some point during their freshman year of college like on a break or something

au masterlist

the first three times samy coughed will didn’t pay much mind to it. it was cold, the days were long, and work was piling up with finals rapidly approaching. the whole semester was taking a toll on everyone.

the couple was in the blonde’s bedroom finishing up some studying even though it was thanksgiving break and will knew samy wasn’t feeling her best. there were heavy bags under her eyes and she kept sniffling, but will didn’t mention it because he knew she hated when he pointed it out. so he didn’t.

until the brunette coughed for a fourth time that sounded like she was hacking up her lungs, will finally said something.

“are you okay?” the blonde wondered, eyeing his girlfriend across from him.

“oh, yeah. i’m fine,” she coughed again and they both knew that was a lie.

“baby, you sound like you’re like dying,” will chuckled a bit, hand on her knee.

“it’s just a stupid cold. it’s been going around at michigan. i’ll be fine,” samy shook her head. she couldn’t afford to be sick with finals coming up and the off-season just around the corner.

“you know it’s okay to rest right? it’s break. you don’t have to be doing work right now,” the blonde was testing his luck telling her that, but he didn’t want her overworking herself when she didn’t even really need to be.

“but i kind of do. finals week is like two weeks away,” samy rolled her eyes a bit, another cough slipping through her lips.

although, this time it turned more into a hack and before the younger smith could even blink, samy was off his bed and running into the bathroom. sounds of puking could be heard as will quickly followed after her. he immediately pulled her hair back as she threw up some more.

“hey, it’s okay. get it all out,” he rubbed her back as he reached over to flush the toilet and check her temperature.

“you’re burning up. let’s get you to bed.”

will helped her back up. he moved all of their things to his desk before helping her into his bed and bringing the trash can around to the side.

“so maybe you were right,” the brunette admitted weakly while her boyfriend frowned.

“i’m gonna get you some water and medicine. do you want anything else?” he wondered, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

samy shook her head. will gently kissed her forehead before disappearing from his room. his mom and sister were downstairs when he came into the kitchen, the two of them smiling.

“hi will, what’s up?” colleen asked.

“samy is sick. do we have anything we can give her?” the younger boy wondered.

“oh no. is she okay?” mrs. smith’s mother instincts kicked in, straightening up and rummaging through the cupboards.

“she just threw up and she’s kind of burning up. she said it was just a cold, but it might be something else like the flu,” will explained.

“i did hear from ellen that something was going around over there. i have some pepto bismol, tylenol, and water. have her take some of this and take her temperature,” colleen placed everything on the counter.

“thanks, mom,” will grabbed all of it in his arms and headed back upstairs to do as told.

“hey, i’m back. i have some stuff for you to take,” will popped his head back into his room. samy rolled to her side, sitting up a little.

“thanks. sorry i threw up in your bathroom,” the brunette frowned.

“why are you apologizing? it’s okay,” he rubbed her arm.

he helped her take the pepto for her stomach and then she took two tylenol’s to hopefully help with the developing headache. will sat at her side rubbing the side of her head in circular motions while they waited for the thermometer to report her temperature.

it beeped a second later and will snatched it before samy could see. “100 flat already. we’ll have to keep an eye on it,” the blonde hummed.

“is that bad?” the girl worried.

“no, it’s pretty normal, but if you go above 104 then we’ll be worried, but i don’t think you will. just rest and keep drinking water,” will reassured with a soft smile.

“sorry i got sick. i know we were looking forward to hanging out and stuff,” samy frowned a bit.

“baby, you don’t have to apologize. we can still hang out. i can lay with you,” will offered.

“no, i don’t wanna get you sick. you have a game in like two days,” the brunette quickly shook her head, scooting away from her boyfriend.

he laughed, “you won’t, i promise. and if you do, i don’t really care.”

“if you get sick you won’t get to play in the game,” she knew how important these games coming up were for boston and she would not let them lose their more valuable player.

“you know i’d take getting sick with you over anything, right?” will raised his eyebrow, another smile poking his lips.

“you’re crazy,” she rolled her eyes.

“maybe i am,” the blonde smiled to himself as he laid down, wrapping his arms around the girl. she snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth radiating off his body even though he was in a t-shirt and it was cold outside.

the next 24 hours will spent all of his time helping samy to the bathroom, feeding her more medicine, and checking her temperature every few hours. luckily, she only went up two more degrees. it was hard for her to relax and shut her brain off knowing all of the things she needed to get done before going back to school, but she let will take care of her.

he massaged her head, cuddled with her, helped her eat something, made her food—he was perfect and she loved him for it because she would do the exact same thing if he was the one sick.

and surprise, surprise. three days later after the big game against providence, will came down with a fever.

[bicheetopuff]

Prompts for puff:

I have a few prompts you might like to write about! Some follow cannon, others are AUs (I don’t know if you have a pref o_O) Feel free to edit these to your own ideas

Pirate AU: Class 1a are pirates, taking on the seven seas. But what happens when the League of Voyagers (a vicious rival pirate group) attack them, leaving them stranded on a mysterious island?

Shojou manga! Izuku finds Katsuki’s collection of shojou manga and reads it. Izuku discovers that Katsuki had been using phrases/tropes in the manga when talking to him. With this info, Izuku resorts to flirting the hell out of Katsuki. (Aka, Izuku finds out that Katsuki is in love with him and proceeds to romance him to the grave)

Villain Deku AU (hear me out), but it’s told from the perspective of Izuku from cannon who fell into the villain AU and helps Nedzu, Tsugauchi & Class 1A find and take down !villain Deku, all while Katsuki (from cannon) is finding ways to get him back. (Bonus points if !Villain Au Baku makes Izuku realise he is in love with him)

Hatsume’s rings of doom: in which hatsume makes thought-sharing rings using quirk technology & makes Izuku + Katsuki test them out. The rings do not come off. Help them.

RealityTV AU: Where the promising young heroes of Class 1A get a segment on the hit show HEROES 4 HIRE: a reality show in which heroes are called to do domestic jobs like babysitting and beach cleaning. Izuku and Katsuki have been paired and will spend the entirety of the show bound together by the hands (at least when the cameras are running).

Streamer AU: (def not original but whatever) Katsuki is a famous streamer, known for shaking up the gaming world with his aggressive play style and notorious attitude, but how will the sweet, funny and precious cinnamon roll that is Deku react when he gets placed into a raging tournament with katsuki? (Extra: Izuku is a badass and creates one of the most influential dynamics with Katsuki, who is ecstatic that someone can match his freak)

My personal fav TIME TRAVEL AU: This prompt can go many ways (AND I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS OMGSVFSNBDJSVS) but I’ll just pick one: Somehow, Izuku (who just got done fighting Muscular for the first time) gets transported to his middle school class, chaos ensues. (Katsuki is beyond concerned for Deku, but needs to get his head out of his ass before trying to reach out) How will Izuku handle being ripped from his time?

Hope these help. And it sucks that you are surrounded by Trump supporters, honestly fuck them. I want to cremate him and put him in a firework that explodes and says “EQUAL RIGHTS”, or smth like that.

(p.s. you are one of my favourite authors EVER and I go insane when I read your stuff. Literally frothing at the mouth rn)

Hi, thank you for the prompts! It makes me really happy that you like my fics <3

I probably won’t use all of these (at least not immediately because I’m kind of a slow writer. But I also do have a preference, I like to write canon compliant stuff so I don’t think I’d have the skill set to write the pirate, villain deku, and streamer AUs, though I do think they’re cool ideas to keep in mind for later!), but the Shoujo Manga, Ring of Doom, and Reality TV AUs sound hilarious, I’m definitely using those.

I really like time travel AUs, but I will say I do already have one planned. It’s like a continuation of another fic but I plan on making it long so I’m not working on it rn. I’m not sure how long exactly, but at least over 50k words so it’s definitely something for the future!

And yeah I think I can speak for every queer person of color who lives in the south, being here right now is kind of spooky if you don’t live in a big city. Luckily, I do live in the city, but my city is big enough to still have its fair share of bigots. I’m worried, but at the same time I have a lot of faith in our community, and I’m sure we’ll all make it out okay. I will say though, I’ve had to unfollow and block so many friends from high school over the past few days… it’s unfortunate but I’d rather that than have someone in my life who doesn’t believe I deserve to exist. But other than that, writing and creating stuff is a good distraction for now :)

[sagesongbird]

@heroicfaithful

{I understood Nathan was mad at me. He had every right to be. If I could take back what I did, I would in a heartbeat. Don’t get me wrong, I loved getting to tour… To explore my passion for music hands on, but not as much as I would have if Nathan had been there with me. Sure, I knew Nathan never would have come on tour with me. For one, he had basketball and a life in Tree Hill. One I couldn’t ask him to uproot. Not to forget he hated Chris Keller, so the odds were high that Nathan would have beat Chris Keller up on that tour every chance he got. In the end, I gave up the chance to tour and I came home instead. Fully intending to get Nathan back… Only to be met by a door being shut in my face. I deserved it though. I just wish it didn’t take me getting hit by a car, after pushing Nathan out of the way of it, for us to finally sit down to talk things out} I know, Nathan… And you have every right to be angry with me. What I did was wrong, and if I could take it back, trust me, I would. {I stated the obvious. Ultimately giving a nod of understanding though when I heard Nathan say we didn’t need to make decisions about our future now. Further recommending that we should focus on me healing first. He was right. Deep down I knew he was. Still, I couldn’t help but to worry that we might not be able to fix us, or even if we could, Nathan would still decide that he would go to Duke, but didn’t want me to go there too. I didn’t want to be apart from Nathan anymore. In my heart, he was my husband, so naturally I wanted to be wherever he was} You’re right. I’m just a little worried, Nathan… {I started to say then I paused; wondering if me being honest would make Nathan angry. At this point in time, I was afraid to say anything since lately I felt like any little thing would give Nathan another reason to be mad at me} I’m a little worried that once I do heal, you won’t want me around anymore… I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be. I messed up. Big time. I love you though, and I don’t want to lose you, Nathan. 

Continued.. We'll find a way

@sagesongbird

It was complicated. That was the only way Nathan could find the words to explain his marriage. For a while it felt gloomy, it felt like our love had fallen apart. And he didn’t want to say an accident is what brought him here but it was. He was so stubborn, he was bent on hurting Haley the same way she had hurt him. He was playing close to the vest because he didn’t want to let his guard down again with her. But he also knew the second he watched her lifeless body get placed in the ambulance that he was still crazy in love. No heartache, no time of her being gone on the tour could replace the love he knew he had for her. He did blame himself; if he had given her the talk she craved, if he had been more willing to hang out to repair our damage we wouldn’t of been tricked, we wouldn’t have been on that street the moment that zooming car came in our direction. 

I was guilty; because Haley jumped in front of a car to save me, to protect me from getting injured, probably to protect my future as a basketball star, but I hated how we got here. Over pride, over the stubborn acts. Nathan told himself he had to communicate, he had to be willing to meet halfway; in order for us to survive. He stayed; he was the one who sat at her bedroom as the brunette was in and out of sleep. He reassured her he was here; he was the one that held her hand. 

His palm never left her own; as he held her touch, His head leaned onto his shoulder; which is why his neck felt stiff when he felt his eyelids lift open. He saw her face; bruised up, her eyes were closed at first until he heard her voice, he held onto her voice as it was a sense of hope for him. “ Hales.. I’m fine, I’m more worry about you. How’re you feeling?” 

It was a stupid question she was hurt; the bruises on her face, on her arm said it all. But Haley was there asking if I was okay; I came out of this unstretched, I was fine. I was walking, I was breathing without injury, I had taken care of myself for years; I could handle a slight fall when she pushed me out of the way, Bringing her palm up to my lips; I pressed a tender kiss to her skin as I mumbled the words. “ I’m not going anywhere.” 

We’d figure out the past, how we overcome it all because we said always and forever.

[ectoplasmer]

actually no I think it’d be really funny if my hs s/i and my ygo s/i switched places