#i’ve been having cramps which would imply i’m getting my period soon

[cetoddle-archive]

never thought i’d be excited to get my period :’)

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

[lucy90712]

Wilbur Soot- MCC

Request: Can u make a part two of MCC when ur on ur period I would love to see Wilbur! Also love ur HC!

Warnings: female reader implied, periods and cramps mentioned 

~ I have been looking forward to this MCC since it was announced because I finally get to be in the same team as my boyfriend we have both won separately and the people we are teamed with are also really good so expectations are pretty high which has me nervous. I've been training extra hard as well to try and make my weaknesses less obvious so that the rest of my team won't have to carry me on certain games. All of this training however has made me super tired because I stayed up practicing and streaming last night which was kind of stupid of me but I can just drink a red bull or something to wake me up.

Wilbur has been super excited too because he has wanted to be on a team with me for a while and has been begging Scott to let it happen and he must have finally gave in. I love that he's excited to team with me and not have to be against me but I feel like there is more pressure because he really wants us to win together but its so hard to tell if that will happen. I would love to be quietly confident but there are some really strong teams although we do have George and Phil as well who are both pretty good (did I just make an elite team like imagine adding Dream as well) so we may have a good chance.

He pulled me up in the afternoon after I had been trying to catch up on my sleep to go on a walk before we will be stuck in our offices for ages. Wilbur has his office in an office building but I have mine at home because I like being able to just watch tv or get a snack when I'm working but its kind of good because it means there will be no echo from the both of us talking at the same time but we won't be able to celebrate together if we win.

On our walk my back started to really hurt as well as my stomach and immediately I knew what was up, I'm starting my period. I knew it was due but I was hoping it wouldn't be today because my performance will be even worse if my stomach hurts the whole time which I know it will. Wilbur could tell there was something wrong with me when I moved my hand over my stomach and walked quicker to get back home and sort everything out.

"You ok there?" He asked

"I'm good just cramps" I said

"Aww I'm sorry do you want to go home?" He asked

All I had to do was nod slightly and we were on our way home and Wilbur had an arm around my waist proving a bit of warmth to sooth my cramps a little bit. He has seen me doubled over with pain and sometimes get nauseous with how bad they can be so he knows that MCC tonight is going to be a struggle hence why I don't ever stream when I've got cramps because I will just curl up in a ball in pain if I do. We got home and when I had been to the bathroom Wilbur was waiting with painkillers and a heating pad to make it a bit better and he cuddled with me on the sofa until he had to leave to go to his office.

Once he was gone I needed a distraction so I started my stream to get a bit more practice in while just talking to my chat, they were concerned when I kept wincing after a wave of pain but I assured them everything was fine and I just wasn't feeling my best. Soon enough Wilbur joined the team vc and we interacted on stream for the first time in quite a while, the other joined soon as well and we headed into the main server for the start of the event. MCC is one of my favourite streams to do because everyone gets behind the whole team and cheers us on plus its a good chance to interact with new people, the viewers also love it each time which keeps me going even when its a game I don't like.

Half way through we were doing pretty good sitting comfortably in second place which is right where we wanted to be but next is ace race which is Wilbur's least favourite game and I'm not very good either plus with the new map we are all struggling. Getting into the game I was so nervous because I've been doing really well so far and have been sitting on 4th overall for the past 2 games and I would love to stay there but that probably won't happen. Phil is pretty good at ace race so I tried following him around but I quickly lost him and was going round with Wilbur instead both of us swearing when we couldn't make it through a particular part or our elytras were playing up.

"Fuck sake I hate this stupid jump pad" I said

"You bastard" Wilbur said

If anyone was hoping for a swear free stream then that went out the window very quickly, the combination of me, Wilbur and ace race is not a good one for no swearing. I can't even count how many times we both swore throughout but I imagine it was a lot although in the end it was worth it because I finished in 7th which is the best I ever did and Wilbur was 10th so we did really well. Coming out of ace race I went straight to the build with the leaderboard to see how I was doing and I'd moved up into 3rd in the overall so of course I took a million screenshots and got Wilbur to join some of them.

"You are doing so good I'm so proud of you" he said

"Thank you you're doing good too you're in 8th" I said

The last game soon came and finished and the nerves as we went into the hub to see our final placement were sky high especially because I did awful in survival games because my cramps started to get worse again and I just couldn't concentrate. We all loaded in and looked at the leaderboard and we were still in second, that means dodgebolt which I'm normally pretty good at but its just not going to happen today.

I'm so excited because we could actually win like Wilbur and I wanted but this is the hard part and with me not at my best I don't know how well it will go, people often target me too because I'm good at dodgebolt so I might get knocked out pretty easily. Wilbur was texting me during the break to see how I was doing and was reassuring me through discord that we could do this, he was also ready to come home right away and told me to stay streaming so we could celebrate together if we win and if not just to give the viewers a bit of content.

Dodgebolt got underway and we won the first game with a bit of ease so my confidence was rising as my cramps were getting worse. Game two started off badly when me and George got knocked out pretty quickly with Wilbur following not long after but Phil pulled through and won us the tournament.

"Well done everyone you all did really well" I said

"You did great too" Phil said

"Great job everyone but I'm gonna go home, y/n I'm coming for you" Wilbur said

With that he left the call and was on his way back while the rest of us celebrated and talked to friends on other teams or people who joined our vc to talk. It's been a while since I've won MCC so it was nice to feel that sense of achievement again and my chat are happy which is what I always want. I had a lot of Wilbur's viewers too as they joined to see him when he got back but honestly we share a lot of the same audience so it didn't feel bad only having this amount of viewers because of him because they are kind of my viewers too.

Eventually Wilbur got home and burst through the doors to my office arms wide open wrapping the round me and the back of my chair before giving me a chance to get up and let him sit down. I sat on lap and we talked to chat for a bit while he had his hands on my stomach slightly massaging it to help my cramps which was much appreciated. We celebrated our win together and promised to show off our coins when we get them before ending stream and climbing into bed.

When in bed I laid on top of Wilbur because it was comfy and he was warm while he rubbed up and down my back soothing me until I fell asleep while whispering cute things in my ears.

[fettsvette]

Comfort Care

Your monthly visitor has you feeling miserable, and Jango wants to take care of you.

Pairing: Jango Fett x Reader Words: 2.2k Rating: Teen Warnings: Mentions of menstruation and sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

  Mando’a terminology

  cyare - beloved

 mesh’la - beautiful

keldabe - affectionate headbutt/forehead press

manda - Mandalorian spiritual concept/version of the afterlife, and/or collective soul of the Mandalorian people

    -

  “I’m back, cyare. ”

  The bedroom door cracked open and whitish light from the hallway flooded in, causing you to wince and hunker down further into the nest of blankets you had built for yourself, the only reprieve from the blast of brightness being the form of your lover standing in the doorway, solid and sure. Jango Fett padded further into your shared bedroom, still in his armor, his head cocked quizzically. This wasn’t your normal reaction to his greeting after being away on so long of a hunt. He’d been anticipating a cry of surprise, followed by you leaping into his arms at a full run to pepper him with kisses. Instead, he’d been hailed with a vague stirring of blankets, and a quiet grunt, although he wasn’t sure if you’d made that noise, or if it had been the door creaking.

  “Are you alright, love? I expected a better welcome than that, I’ve been gone for almost a month.” Jango questioned, trying to hide the concern in his voice. He was surprised to find you already in bed at this hour, especially when he’d sent a messenger droid ahead of the Slave I to alert you that he was on his way back to you. His question was met with another grunt - yes, it had definitely been you, not the door - and he stifled a chuckle at the sound as he moved towards you, his helmet tucked under his arm. He suddenly had a feeling of what may be ailing you, based on how long it had been since he’d left, and he had to admit that your theatrics concerning this particular subject always amused him.

  “Everything hurts and I’m dying .” You retorted grumpily, gingerly rising to a sitting position in the bed and grimacing as you were hit with another wave of cramps in your lower belly and groin. Your cycle had just started earlier in the evening, and while you had been anticipating Jango’s arrival home from Ord Mantell for some time now, and knew he was due to return thanks to the messenger he had sent, you were exhausted and had wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and sleep off the worst of the cramping. Jango would be there when you awoke in the morning, and hopefully you would be feeling better at that point in time. But now here he was, in the middle of the night, bursting into your bedroom and jarring you from your rest. There was no way you could be upset with him, though; you’d missed him dearly while he way away, worried over him constantly while he tracked down his bounty - a Bith musician who’d tried to exit his lifetime performing contract with a Falleen nobleman a bit early - and now, as you gazed pathetically at him from your spot in the bed, the slight quirk of his lips and arch of his eyebrows made your heart ache for him.

  Jango’s brows lifted at your whining, and he nodded curtly, almost to himself. You didn’t know how, but sometimes you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself.

  “Ah, I see… I had a feeling that an unwelcome visitor had just dropped by. I can assure you that you’re not dying, though. What do you need of me, mesh’la ?” Jango asked, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile even further, and you felt yourself flush at the soft rasp of his voice. You knew he was implying either of two things, perhaps both - a bit of tender care and company in your afflicted state, or something of a more carnal nature. Jango didn’t mind having sex when you had your period - if anything he seemed to enjoy how much more sensitive and hot and slick you were, and he took pride in the fact that he could make you feel so much better just by fucking you - but he’d been gone for so long, and you were grouchy and tired, and all you wanted was to feel safe in his embrace, more than anything else.

  “Take care of me?” You asked softly, pulling the blankets up around your chin and giving your lover what you hoped was your best pleading expression. You heard just how pathetic and needy your voice sounded, but you didn’t care - you knew that Jango loved taking care of you, and you adored just how gently he could treat you, especially after having just returned from a hunt. Jango’s expression softened further as soon as the words left your mouth, and your heart skipped a beat. Your begging had the desired effect after all. 

“ As you wish . I’ll be right back, darling. Let me get this armor off and jump in the sonic, I don’t think you want me sharing your bed when I’m this sweaty.” He gave you a mock bow that made you giggle, and stepped back out into the hall, looking back over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner to the refresher and giving you a coy wink. You heard the familiar clunking sounds of his Mandalorian armor being deposited on the closet floor shortly afterwards, followed by the soothing vibrations of the sonic shower in the adjacent room. You reclined against the pillows once more, trying to ignore the contracting muscles in your abdomen, and waited for your love to rejoin you, anticipating feeling his arms around you.

  This man you had built a life with was one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy, and you couldn’t believe just how threatening and terrifying and downright mean he could appear when he needed to, but the quiet strength he exuded when the two of you were alone was such a comfort. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have this secret side of Jango Fett all to yourself, and you never planned to take it for granted.

  -

  “Room service…” You hadn’t even realized you’d dozed off until the call and soft knock came from the doorway, and you sat back up, grinning at your lover’s snide comment. Jango stepped back into your bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot and carrying two clay mugs and a piping hot carafe of something that smelled absolutely delicious. You couldn’t help but perk up when you realized it was your favorite warm drink, Deychin tea. There hadn’t been any in the flat when you’d last checked, and your heart flipped in your chest when you realized he must have picked some up for you while he was away. Jango seemed to be the only one who knew how to prepare it exactly the way you liked it, anyway. You thankfully took the mug after he’d poured some tea for you, blowing on the liquid and taking a small sip, humming delightedly to yourself as you felt the warmth spread down into your belly, and throughout your body. Jango sat on the bed next to you and poured himself a cup, taking several sips himself before placing the carafe and mug on the nightstand. You took a moment to drink him in - his close-cropped curls, those dark eyes, the hard set of his jaw, the scars that freckled his skin. All these years later, and he was still the most ruggedly handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. He was dressed comfortably in a simple woven tunic that dipped to expose his broad chest, and a pair of worn grey sweatpants slung low around his hips, and you shivered from desire despite yourself. You really didn’t know how you’d managed to bag such a gorgeous specimen of a man, yet here he was. 

  “My poor girl…” Jango cooed softly, the teasing tone in his voice not unnoticed, and you leaned your head down to bump against his shoulder like a felinx desiring a scratch behind the ears from its owner. He laughed at your antics, a low rumble that always sent a delicious chill up your spine, and turned to face you, plucking the mug from your hands and setting it on the table next to his own. Without another word, he pulled back the blankets and settled himself underneath them next to you, and slung one muscular arm around your shoulders, guiding you to lay your head against his chest, which you did gladly. You sighed contentedly at the heat Jango always seemed to radiate, and reached up to intertwine your fingers with his over your shoulder, smiling to yourself at just how small he made you feel, his hand in yours. His fingers were scarred and rough after years of working with weaponry and fixing machinery, but you loved how reassuring they felt against your skin. Jango cupped his other hand against your cheek briefly as you made yourself comfortable against him, then trailed it down to rest against your lower belly, directly over your uterus, and gently kneaded the soft flesh there. 

  You couldn’t help but let out a satisfied groan at the warmth radiating from his hand through to the cramping muscles, as well as the pressure his deft fingers applied to the aching area, and you relaxed further into him, feeling like putty in his arms. You lifted your chin to look into his eyes, and were met by that same searching, brooding expression, his lips slightly pursed in a quiet smirk, and Jango leaned forward to capture your mouth in his, never once ceasing his ministrations as he kissed you, only breaking away to leave a trail of them against your cheek, the tip of your nose, and your forehead, followed by a proper keldabe that ended too soon for your liking.

  Your face felt hot where his stubble had brushed against your skin, and you relished in the knowledge that you’d be able to feel the ghost of his kisses for hours afterwards. Jango released his other hand from your grasp and circled it around your waist, hugging you closer to him and turning you so that you laid on your side, pressed against his abdomen. You winced slightly as the change of position and the absence of his hand against your tummy ignited another volley of cramps, but once you were pressed firmly against his body, the heat coming off him in waves was more than enough to sate your aches and pains. 

  “That’s my good girl, letting me take care of you like this…” Jango rumbled affectionately, and you whined softly in response at his praise, burying your face against his tunic and wrapping your arm around his waist, hastily throwing one leg over his own for good measure. Jango let out a small ‘ oof ’ at your unexpected cuddle, tensing for a moment as he adjusted to your grip on him, but quickly chuckled and hugged you tighter. He adored just how needy you could be for him sometimes, especially after he’d been away for a lengthy period of time, or when you weren’t feeling well. 

  “Are you feeling a bit better now that I’m here, my love?” Jango whispered against your hair, and you swore you could feel him smiling against you. His smiles were so rare, so beautiful, and it made your heart ache to know that you were the cause of the sheepish grin you knew crossed his normally stern features. You wanted to sit up, hold that face between your hands and kiss his lips so deeply, so earnestly, but you were much too tired to make the effort, and knew your man would be there in the morning when you woke up. You always stirred after dawn broke to the feeling of Jango’s arms around you, if you were fortunate enough to have him home with you.

  “You have no idea, Jango. Thank you…” You murmured sleepily, nuzzling your nose against his collarbone and sighing blissfully as Jango’s long fingers carded through your hair, his free hand smoothing up and down the curve of your back, tracing patterns over the thin material of your sleep shirt. It wasn’t long before the steady, strong rhythm of Jango’s heartbeat, as well as the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek, helped you drift off into a deep sleep, your fist still clutching at the soft material of his shirt, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

  As Jango watched you sleep, he felt a surge of affection for you make its way through his body. He didn’t think he would ever truly understand why you loved him so deeply after all he’d done in his career, why you were so comforted by his touch or mere presence alone, but the way you looked now, asleep and completely at peace in his arms after such a fitful start to your evening, offered the realization that maybe he didn’t have to understand. He loved you something fierce, and you loved him desperately in return, despite everything, and perhaps that would always be enough. 

  Jango Fett leaned his cheek against the crown of your hair and sent a whispered prayer of thanks to the manda for allowing him to come home safely to you, time and time again.

  Thank the stars for small favors.

[aseioh]

Notes: Listen, I saw those post of Bela and Donna together and my mind ran away with it. as a result I humbly offer you this story.

If anyone finds those drawings again would you mind tagging me. I would really appreciate it and I would like to thank the original artist.

Thank you. With that in mind here is a sneak peak.

Summary: Donna finds love in the most unexpected way. After all, who would even think of falling for her. Therefore it came as a big surprise to her when someone did fell. Never had she thought that she would be courted by Alcina’s oldest daughter.

As with all grand stories of lovers finding each other, the story of how Donna Beneviento found love in Bela Dimitrescu started out on an inconsequential happenstance.

‘There’s a leak in my house, and I’m afraid living near a great waterfall has its benefits and pitfalls. One of which is having damp wall bad enough to get mold.’ Donna thought to herself as she made her way to Mother Miranda’s inner sanctuary for the weekly meeting.

“I wonder if this is the mutamycete’s cousin invading my house.”

“Did you say something my dear?” Alcina said as she herself makes her way to the door, stooping slightly to enter. She holds the door until Donna enters. “Thank you, Alcina.”

“We have a mold situation! Mistress is saying that it might be the Mold’s cousin” Angie pipes up happily enjoying the attention Alcina gives to her.

“Angie hush, it’s nothing Alcina. One of the downsides living near the waterfall, I’m afraid it got too damp in one of the rooms that molds has started to grow. It’s my fault really, I should have inspected the house more often.” Donna explains, it’s a good thing she was wearing her veil, she wouldn’t want Alcina to see her embarrassment from something so small a matter.

“In any case I’ve already contacted someone from the village to clean and remove the problem. Although a more thorough inspection must be done, I wouldn’t want any more surprises.”

To their surprise Heisenberg was already there in the sanctuary, usually the rugged man was the last to arrive on which he calls it “fashionably late”. Moreau always the first to arrive every time Mother Miranda summons them.

There was a companionable silence between the two, as they normally only interact when Mother Miranda was there.

“Hello Countess, Lady Donna” As Moreau turns his focus on the two ladies arriving and tries his best to smile despite his monstrous form, Moreau has always been polite with everyone.

“What’s this about surprises?” Heisenberg asked as he lounges on his chair.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda has yet to arrive, giving the four Lords enough time to chat after all it’s not everyday that they can just gather around to talk. After a small catch up, curtesy of Angie’s animated retelling, the four Lords are now faced with a small problem.

Where should they house Donna?

Of course, as one of the Four Lords of the village she is both loved (more than the others apparently, if the village gossip is to be trusted) and feared, and although the weakest among the four she is well protected in her shrouded mansion that she had no real fear of being attacked.

Even with the slim chance that anyone would be brave enough to attack her, taking her away from the mansion poses a real threat to her safety. And that would not do.

“You could always bunker down with me at the Factory. If you don’t mind the smell of oil and a little bit of heat” Heisenberg offered as he casually took a drag off his cigar. “Hey, we might even finish one of our projects it’ll certainly save you time traveling from your house to my factory.”

“Ugh, as if. She’s a Lady Heisenberg. She’s not slumming down there with you, and she certainly need her own privacy” Alcina countered with a huff. The nerve of the man can he really not think beyond his work.

“Oh, right sorry Donna” Understanding what Alcina implied, Heisenberg had the decency to slightly blush.

“Sorry I can’t offer you to stay in my reservoir Donna. Even I think that’s no place for a Lady to live, not to mention the fish smell and cramped living quarters.” Moreau said apologetically.

“That’s alright Sal, I understand. Thank you for thinking about my welfare.”

“Well that leaves my Castle. And of course, you’re staying with me. I will not take ‘No’ for an answer. You living in a hovel just won’t do my dear” Alcina smiled triumphantly at the revelation

“If you were thinking of housing her, why did you pose the question to us?”

“Simple. I wanted to see what your reactions would be and honestly I wasn’t surprised by it”

“Smug bitch” Heisenberg huffs under his breath, he had to admit he walked right in that one.

“What was that?”

“Nothing”

“Are you sure Alcina, I don’t want to impose to you and your daughter. Aren’t you busy with the harvest and wine production? Not to mention I still have the other dolls to rehouse I can’t leave them there alone.” Donna inquired slightly unsure on what will happen to her small friends.

“That can be taken care of. Heisenberg can house them as well as lending some of his soldat to ensure that the villagers won’t go snooping around where they’re not wanted. Isn’t that right Heisenberg?”

“Yeah, yeah, leave those to me. Anything else your Highness?”

“She’s gonna need some of her stuff carried from her house to my Castle be a good boy and fetch them for us will you” Alcina smiles.

At that Heisenberg growls

“Now, now no need for that. Thank you Karl for your help” as Donna pushes herself in between Alcina and Heisenberg

“No thanks needed Donna, anything for my favorite lab assistant.”

At that Donna chuckles “Karl, I’m you’re only Lab mate.”

“Exactly”

With that Mother Miranda enters the Sanctuary and everyone went back to their places. Alcina and Heisenberg opposite each other in front of Miranda, while Donna and Moreau are at her right and left side, respectively.

After a grueling five hours of discussion and bickering (mostly of Alcina and Heisenberg), Mother Miranda had deemed it right adjourn the meeting and continue it the following week with cooler heads and a more substantial plan.

“Well dear are you ready? I’m sure Angie here is excited to see her new home. Heisenberg will take care of the rest of your baggage.”

“Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go”

A short and companionable silent ride later and both Lords arrive at the front of Castle Dimitrescu. This isn’t the first time Donna came to the Castle, but this is the first time she would be remaining for an extended period of time.

She knew of Alcina’s daughters, but she has never interacted with them. The most of their interaction stems from short glimpses and hearing the girls giggle from one of the rooms when she visits. Not that she made a personal effort to meet them, she was still rather self-conscious and awkward with first meetings. The very idea of interacting with new people (even if they are close to the people she considers as family) freezes her.

 It’s a good thing Angie’s always with her, she can be the extension of Donna’s subconscious.

“Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu dear, I hope your stay with us is pleasant. Consider this your home away from home” Alcina smiles widely as she leads Donna to the main hall. “Daughters come down here, we have a guest to welcome.”

With that swarms of insects came down from the foyer only to split into three distinct form. Three beautiful ladies came to rest in front of the pair.

“Daughters, Lady Beneviento and Angie will be staying with us for a while. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“Of course, Mother. Welcome Lady Beneviento, Angie.” Bela bows slightly as she welcomes Donna, the other two soon follows.

“Very good, I’m sure Donna is tired from the meeting as am I. Shall we all have dinner later? Bela would you mind escorting Donna to one of the guest rooms, I’m sure she’ll need to freshen up or lay down for a bit.”

“Understood Mother. Come my Lady, let me show you to your room” as Bela leads Donna to the guest room, there’s almost a tense atmosphere between them.

“Here you are Lady Beneviento. Ring the bell if you ever need something, We’ll assign a maid for your room and they’ll fetch it for you.” Bela smiles as she explains it to Donna, the room itself is big and opulent as expected from a guest room of the castle.

“Thank you, my Lady, for you and your Mother’s hospitality, this is indeed very much suitable. Angie and I will fit right in am I right Angie” at this Angie who’s been looking left and right at the place nods enthusiastically.

“Please don’t mind us, we’ll try to stay quiet as possible. We wouldn’t want to impose on your busy schedule.”

“Call me Bela, my Lady. and don’t worry, you won’t be an imposition. In fact, you just might be what we need at this castle right now. A breath of fresh air, if you don’t mind, I would love to chat with you about the outside world. As I’m sure you know, my sisters and I cannot leave the castle grounds for too long.” Bela asked unsure if what she’s asking is too much for the usually quiet Lord.

Sensing some hesitation from the young woman in front of her, Donna made her decision as well. ‘I will be staying here for some time. I may as well get to know the daughters Alcina is so fond of’.

“Of course, Bela, I would love to. And please call me Donna, if we’re to chat and get to know one another we can get rid of that formality. I certainly won’t mind.” And although Bela cannot see the smile on Donna’s face, she can surely hear the warmth of Donna’s voice.

“Yes please. Well then Donna, I’ll leave you to rest for now. Shall I fetch you for dinner time?”

“Yes, of course. I would love nothing more.”

With that Bela takes her leave of the room, and as she walks away, she can’t help but to smile to herself.

‘A breath of fresh air indeed’

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: hey y'all. my new job has been draining the life out of me so i have very little energy left for writing, which is why these updates are taking so long. im still very passionate about this fic though, it just takes me more time to write :(

in other news, this chapter is saturated with descriptions of pain, both physical and emotional. i hated writing it but it was worth it.

***

Nesta, 14

Sometimes it all becomes too much. Feyre asking for help with homework and Elain begging for more money to go to the strip mall, and their dad ignoring them all as if they aren’t even there. Sometimes she wants to leave it all behind and pretend she isn’t anchored to three other people, wants to pretend she is a lone being in a lonely world.

When she needs to go away, she comes here.

Cherrywood House is quiet, as it always is this time of year. One of several expensive vacation homes in the Smokies, Cherrywood is Nesta’s favorite for a multitude of reasons— it’s empty for ten out of twelve months of the year, it’s the only house with a clear view of the nearby lake, and cherry blossoms bloom on trees out in the back every spring.

It’s early June, and she has a few more weeks left with the house until its owners return. The family that owns the place never leaves a trace of themselves behind when they leave each August, so Nesta returns the favor by never leaving hints of her inhabitance either.

She takes her worn Converse and socks off at the back porch and climbs in through the unlocked window barefoot. This is where she belongs. A ghost roaming the empty halls, with no one to care for and no one to care for her.

She makes her way upstairs to her preferred hideout spot: an airy bedroom with a bay window seat that looks out onto the cherry blossom trees outside. Cracking the window open to let the fragrance of flowers in, she settles into the bench seat with her book of the week and starts reading.

Absorbed in dreams of deep love and deeper kisses, Nesta doesn't notice the sun going down until she can barely make out the words on the page before her. Glancing up with sore eyes, she realizes she needs to leave soon if she doesn't want to take the wooded path back home in the dark.

“Damn,” she sighs, but she gets up and shuts the window firmly.

She keeps her nose in her book all the way down the hall and down the stairs, and doesn't sense anything off until a large shadow flashes in the corner of her eye. Her head whips up, and the face that greets her looks just as surprised as she is.

Nesta freezes.

“Um,” the guy says. He’s maybe a few years older than her, seventeen or eighteen, and tall with shaggy dark hair. The front door of the house is still cracked open behind him. “What the fuck?”

Nesta unfreezes. And then she runs.

All the way through the main hall and to the back door, while the boy’s shouts chase her through the house. “Hey, wait up!”

They weren't supposed to be here this early—

Her hand wraps around the back door handle and she flings it open, shoving through the second screen door and shooting right down the porch steps. Heavy steps behind her ignite a panic in her, and she gains a burst of speed.

“HEY!” he calls again. Soft grass becomes dirt and twigs beneath Nesta's feet, and she knows she's reached the tree line. Dark shadows fall over her as she darts into the safety of the woods.

Still standing on the back porch and waving a raggedy pair of Converse, Cassian tries calling for the girl one more time. “You forgot your shoes!”

Cassian wakes up at five in the morning to the sound of the house’s pipes creaking, a telltale sign that someone is using one of the faucets. Blinking his eyes open, he hears the distant sound of the shower running.

Who would get up in the freezing cold at this hour just to take a shower? He checks the time once more to make sure he isn't imagining things, and gets up to peek his head out of his bedroom. Sure enough, light leaks out from under the bathroom door.

Cassian walks up to the bathroom and listens closely for any sound beside running water. He knocks hesitantly. “Nesta?”

Her muffled voice calls back to him, but he can't make out a thing.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “How long have you been in there?”

There’s no response, and now he’s concerned. Raising his voice, he says, “I’m going to come in to hear you better, is that okay?”

A soft affirmative answers him, and he tries the doorknob. It’s already unlocked, which is odd, but he pokes his head into the steam-filled bathroom cautiously. “Nesta?”

From behind the curtain of the shower, a pale, tired face appears. She’s sitting on the floor of the tub, he realizes. “Hey,” she attempts a feeble smile at him.

Cassian fully enters the bathroom, the humidity dampening his skin. “Are you okay? When did you get up?”

“I’ve only been in here for an hour, maybe.” Her voice is weak enough that he has to move closer to hear her. “Don’t worry about your water bill. I’ll pay it, I swear.”

He shakes his head, confounded. “I don’t care about the water bill. You still haven’t told me if you’re okay.” He moves to crouch beside the bathtub, the opaque shower curtain the only barrier between them.

Nesta rolls her eyes, looking embarrassed. “It’s just cramps. I get really sick on my periods, and I would have warned you that they suck ass, but that would imply that my period could affect you. It doesn’t have to affect you— if you just leave me to myself for a few days, I won’t even be a bother.”

Cassian blinks, not really knowing where to start with that, so he just says, “But why the shower?”

Nesta shifts uncomfortably behind the curtain. “Sometimes hot water is the only thing that helps with the pain. I already tried getting out of the shower, but it hurt so bad— I had to go right back in. I’ll get out eventually, don’t worry.”

Cassian frowns. This all sounds incredibly worrying. “This is normal for you?”

She’s about to answer when her face pinches in a look of discomfort. “Cassian,” she says, strained.

He leans closer, wanting to help. “Yeah?”

“Get out.” She doesn't look like she has the energy to add anything else.

Cassian wants to defy Nesta and stay right there, but that would require arguing with her, and she clearly is no longer in the mood to hold up a conversation.

Reluctantly, he nods. “I’ll be right down the hall. Yell if you need anything.”

Nesta is already sinking lower into the tub, trying to get more fully under the burning hot spray. Her eyes drift closed and she hums in answer.

Cassian doesn't return to his room like he said he would, but heads downstairs instead. He spends a good ten minutes reading the drug labels of various painkillers from the medicine cabinet before carefully arranging a nonlethal cocktail of them on a tray. He adds a cold glass of water and various handpicked snacks before returning upstairs to set the tray by Nesta’s bedside, and turns the heat all the way up to combat the chill in her room, just in case.

Then he goes back to his room and waits. He tries to listen closely for the sound of the shower stopping, but he’s not used to being up this early on a Saturday, and his bed is so warm…

He falls asleep waiting.

***

Nesta stumbles out of the shower long after Cassian leaves her and downs a handful of pills without thinking too much about who left them for her. She already has an idea of how the next few days will go, and she just hopes Cassian will allow her the dignity to suffer through it alone.

She crawls into bed exhausted and shuts her eyes tight. The next time she opens them, sunlight is streaming weakly through the windows. Jarring pain lances through her abdomen, and she brings her legs all the way up to her chest and whimpers. From the edge of her consciousness, she notices the snack tray has been replaced with lunch— some leftover lasagna from the night before. Sneaking out her hand from her mountain of blankets, she goes for her phone. A text sent nearly an hour ago waits for her.

Cassian: please eat.

Nesta glares at the lasagna because she knows better. She might have spent this morning eyeing the bathroom tiles to determine if they were clean enough for her to curl up there and die, but she's not at a point to abandon her dignity just yet. The last thing her roiling nausea needs is solid food. Instead, she gathers the focus to text back Cassian: Leave me alone today.

It's only after she sends the message that she realizes it sounds harsh, but she can't bring herself to explain further or to soften her tone. Her pain always has a way of stripping her of any defenses and formalities and leaving only a primal creature behind.

Turning her phone off, she closes her eyes and inhales tightly through her nose. A wave of cramps that feels closer to what a brutal stabbing victim would feel like overtakes her, and— no, she has to get up.

During times like these, the bathroom is Nesta’s favorite place in the whole world. Cool tiles to rest her head on, hot water just a foot away, and a spacious tub if she ever feels like passing out. Heaven. Naturally, she escapes there first.

After maybe another hour of restless writhing and moving about, Nesta decides the suffering isn't worth it and hobbles downstairs in search of some Nyquil to knock her out. She’s got the medicine cabinet halfway open when a broad hand slams it back shut, and she turns to find Cassian standing behind her with a stern look. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. You can’t take meds on an empty stomach.”

Nesta wants to cry at the denial of pain relief, but she grips the counter behind her and manages a glare instead. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I will absolutely tell you not to wreck your liver, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

A desperate whine escapes her, and she can’t believe Cassian has to see her like this. Even worse, she sees sympathy soften his face as his hand slips off the cabinet next to her head. “I made soup,” he offers. “Can you have soup?”

Nesta hesitates. Her insides don’t hate the idea of soup. She nods.

***

Nesta insisted on avoiding Cassian for the rest of the day, and Cassian graciously eased off her back once he knew she’d eaten. He kindly pretended he didn’t hear her running back and forth from the bathroom all day because she couldn’t sit still, and only interrupted her once to make sure she took more Tylenol before bed.

Now, long after night has fallen, Nesta is truly alone. Her medicine either hasn’t kicked in yet or isn’t strong enough to do its job tonight. She can barely think straight, and this is when the most primal part of herself comes out.

Despite her age, despite everything, she still cries. She cries as if anyone would bother listening, physical pain intertwining with the pain and humiliation of being ignored. “Papa,” she calls into her pillow, again and again.

She hasn’t trusted her papa in years, and yet she still expects him to rescue her. She still waits for him to show up and make everything better.

A hot tear leaks from her eye, and the catharsis of it distracts from her cramps. She curls up into a ball and cries harder, as if she can weep out everything that’s wrong with her body.

A soft knock interrupts her helpless whimpers, and Nesta hears the door open a moment later. “Nesta? Were you calling for me?”

Somebody came. No one’s ever come for her before.

A sigh of relief escapes her, and she forgets to put her walls up. “I’m just—” she tries to say, “so tired.”

She hears Cassian come farther into the room and curse. “Fuck, it’s an icebox in here.”

A hand nudges at her mound of comforters, giving Nesta’s shoulder a shake. “You should’ve told me the heater wasn’t working. Are you okay?”

That question sets her on edge. “Do I look okay?” her voice cracks. She wants to cry even harder now that he’s here, for some reason.

“Obviously not,” he mutters. “You’re staying in my room tonight. Get up.”

Nesta groans and burrows further into her freezing cocoon of sheets. “Don’twannamove.”

“It’s either that or I’m carrying you. I’m good either way.”

Nesta finally cracks her eyes open, glad that Cassian is only a tear-blurred figure in the dark. She doesn’t want to read whatever is on his face right now. Gathering her heavy comforter around herself, she gets up and lets Cassian lead her down the hall to his room.

Toasty warmth hits her as soon as she’s inside, and she makes an exhausted sound and drops the comforter. In a blur, she’s tucked into Cassian’s bed, enveloped by his scent and his lingering body heat on the sheets. Under the dim lamplight, Cassian seems to finally take notice of the tear tracks on her face. Clicking his tongue in sympathy and concern, he rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin under Nesta’s eyes. Her whole body shudders under the gentle touch. Who knew just the pad of his finger could combat this inescapable agony?

“This isn’t normal,” he murmurs. “I’m taking you to a doctor as soon as this storm clears.”

If Nesta was in the right state of mind, she’d tell him absolutely not. However, she’s barely comprehending his words as it is, so she watches him click the lamp off in silence. Darkness fills the room, but she can hear him moving.

“I’ll be right back,” his voice rumbles, and then she’s alone again. More tears leak at the feeling of abandonment. She’s so sick of herself.

After what feels like an eternity but is only a few minutes, she hears Cassian return. The mattress dips behind her as he climbs under the blankets with her, and then Nesta feels something hot and dry being pressed to her side. A towel. “Does this help?” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly close to her ear.

Wordlessly, Nesta reaches down and takes his hand holding the hot towel, dragging it beneath the hem of her sweater so the heat burns against her bare skin. She sighs and allows her tensed body to sag, leaning back into the hard cradle of Cassian’s chest and arms.

In her ear, Cassian’s breathing has gone shallow. His hand slips from her side, only to find her back and start rubbing up and down.

Her eyes flutter shut.

“My mother was a Muslim immigrant from Algeria,” Cassian whispers out of nowhere. “And whenever I felt sick as a little kid, I would crawl into her lap and she would rub my back just like this, and say some prayers and blow on my face, and I would feel better.”

Nesta makes a weak sound of acknowledgment. That sounds nice, nicer than anything she ever knew growing up.

“I’m sorry I don’t know any prayers,” Cassian says. Then, Nesta feels a whoosh of breath tickle the side of her face. “Does that help?”

It feels weirdly good, and Nesta's shoulders start shaking. She doesn't know if she's holding in a laugh or a sob. Cassian’s hand stills on her back. “Nesta?”

A sharp wave of pain sets her straight. After she breathes through it, she tells him, “You don't need to pray. Just… keep talking to me.”

His hand resumes drawing circles on her back. “Alright.” And he whispers stories into her ear for the rest of the night, until she's fallen asleep and long afterward.

The next morning, Nesta is feeling much better. Cassian knows this because she’s sitting in the living room when he comes downstairs, straight-backed instead of hunched over in pain, and she’s regained the energy to glare at him.

Cassian’s relief at seeing Nesta okay hesitates at that glare. He slows on the bottom step. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Don't call me that.”

He blinks, not sure what he did wrong. Before he can ask, Nesta says, “You didn't listen to me.”

“Excuse me?” He strolls deeper into the living area.

“I told you to leave me alone while I'm on my period, and you didn't listen. You dragged me to your room and made me spend the night with you.”

“You were crying for help,” Cassian says in disbelief. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?”

“Yes.” She looks even angrier. “It’s humiliating for me to have you see me like that. It's humiliating to have my own family see me like that.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re—” He almost says overreacting, but some deep instinct tells him that word won’t fly well with Nesta. “You’re wrong,” he decides. “Whatever you think I’m thinking of you after last night, you’re wrong.” Cassian has no problem going into caretaker mode for Nesta; it's his natural state of being most of the time anyway. Besides, last night was… a new experience for him. For a multitude of reasons. “You can't tell me you go through that every month and have never had anybody take care of you.”

“I haven't, and for good reason,” Nesta seethes. “You had no right to see me like that.”

Cassian leans on the arm of a chair and crosses his arms, considering her. “Have you ever seen a doctor about your period?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps. Here is the Nesta that Feyre is always talking about: quick to anger and always on the defense, to the point that she comes off as unreasonable. Nothing like the helpless woman in tears from just the night before.

It brings out a rougher side of Cassian, one that wants to nip and bite at her boundaries instead of letting her be comfortable all the time. “That’s no way to talk to someone who stayed up all night to wait on you hand and foot, you know.”

“Don’t you dare hold that against me.” Nesta’s voice is dangerously cold.

“I’m not holding it against you. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“No.”

“I already made an appointment.”

“Cancel it.” Her voice is brittle and she’s now trembling with restrained rage. Cassian doesn’t know if it’s because he’s refusing to give her a choice or if she just really doesn’t like doctors. Either way, it doesn’t change how Nesta ran out of bed at four this morning to puke her soup up. If it wasn’t for all this snow, he would have dragged her ass to the ER by now.

“I don’t have health insurance,” Nesta admits when she sees that Cassian won’t back down. “And I’ve made it this far without any cause for concern; there’s no reason to go.”

“Then I’ll pay for it,” he says simply. Her lack of care for her health astounds and angers Cassian at the same time. How is it that nobody, not even her family, has looked at this woman before and said You’re not okay, do you need help? How many times has she cried in pain with no one to listen?

Nesta has now stood up and is turning red in the face. “Absolutely not. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Cassian smirks and straightens up.

“I’m not going to the doctor,” she barks. “Cancel the appointment.”

“No.”

“DO IT!”

In that moment, Cassian sees it. He sees how beneath the adult manner and adult words, the carefully crafted facade of cool, there is an explosive, tantrum-prone child. And he’s about to reveal her for good.

“It’s this Wednesday. I hope you don't mind skipping class.”

An enraged shriek shatters the air in the room, and before Cassian can even be shocked Nesta is verbally pouncing on him, yelling, “How fucking dare you, you complete shithead—”

“Nesta.”

“You have no right to— You’re so useless, this is why I didn't want to stay with you, this is why I never talked to you—”

“Nest—”

“You egomaniacal manipulative bastard— just because you let me stay in your house doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do—”

“Damn it Nesta, can you just shut up and LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!”

Nesta freezes and blinks, taken aback. Cassian immediately snaps his mouth shut, wondering if he’s finally crossed that line he’s been so cautiously toeing this whole time.

He watches her face closely, looking for signs of upset— or worse, fear. She only says, “Fine.”

He’s confused. “Fine, what?”

“Fine, I’ll go to the doctor’s.” Just like that, her fight is gone and the facade is back in place. She sets her jaw, but a hint of surprise and newfound discovery lingers in her eyes. “But I’m not letting you pay for it. It’ll have to come out of my own pocket.” She doesn't look happy about that part.

Cassian wants to argue her, but he knows how to pick and choose his battles. For now, he’s just baffled that he demanded Nesta to do something, and she listened.

He raised his voice at her. God, he yelled at her in anger and she only blinked in response, and now she’s listening to him. What kind of sick alien shit is this?

***

a/n: i love talking about these characters so if you ever get sick of waiting for part 5 just shoot me an ask and ill gladly discuss nessian with you

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx

[too-old-for-fangirling-but-idc]

In Your Veins Chpt.1

Title: In Your Veins Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Tom’s behaviour starts to get weird after he got lost while on his way back home from the airport in the middle of the night.

Pairing: eventually Tom Hiddleston/Chris Hemsworth

Warnings:   Weight Issues, Side Effects, Exhaustion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Kidnapping, Survival Horror, Heavy Angst, Feels and Hurt/Comfort, Protective Luke, Mental Instability, Triggers implied/Referenced Self-Harm

Notes: This is like one of my “older” things on which I’m still writing. And it’s definitely one of my darker fics, too. I hope you’ll enjoy it anyways.

Word Count: 2310

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to London Heathrow Airport. Local time is 8 pm and the temperature is 10 degrees. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the ‘Fasten Seat Belt’ sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about.”

It was a squash landing. The airplane rocking and bucking as it tardily slowed down and came to an abrupt halt on the landing runway. Toms’ cramped fingers slackened off, allowing the white around the knuckles to ease off until they took on normal skin colour again. On the seat next to him Luke began fumbling with his seat belt and looking around in an attempt to get up as soon as possible. The pressure on his heart faded, he felt a sudden relief of being on the ground again. It wasn’t that he was afraid of flights. It was only the height making him inwardly anxious and nervous like a five year old kid.

“Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought on board with you and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight. If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you.”

Luke’s seat belt instantly snapped open when the signs went out and he sprang to his feet, eager to push past Tom who was still sitting with his hands curled into loose fists.

“On behalf of the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice night!”

“Tom, come on!”

Toms arm was grabbed and pulled wherefore he had to straighten up and follow his agent through the crowd of people. It still was beyond Tom how the other male always managed to get them through such a bunch of bodies without them either ending up hurt or killed by shortage of space.

“Come on, hurry up.”

Nobody was waiting for them. Aside from Toms’ bedroom, a cup filled with hot tea, and casual clothing in which he finally would be able to lay down again without having to worry about any dirt on the expensive suit trousers he was wearing. He strolled around absent-mindedly, not even noticing Luke who had taken hold of his upper-arm and was now guiding him down the stairs and into the waiting bus.

“You’re engrossed in thought again.” Luke placed his hand between Toms’ shoulder blades to steady him and let the man rest his head against his chest. He knew all too well that the actor wasn’t always capable of putting the stress of the flight and prior days of work away as though nothing had happened. All the more his desire to get home increased with every second that passed by. He pressed his palm flat on Toms’ lower back and led him straight to the baggage claim area where he quickly looked around for a bench.

“Look, you can sit down right over there whilst I’ll check on our luggage, alright?”

At first Toms’ mind was insistent that he was indeed well enough to stand and assist Luke with lifting down the suitcases off the baggage carousel. Then he noticed that said man had already steered him towards the bench. “I think I-“

Luke cut him off. “Not a word, Tom.”There were hands on his shoulders that pushed him downwards until he gave in and squatted. “You will stay here. I’ll come when I’ve got all our bags.”

He watched his agent as he walked back in the slowly growing crowd and scurried around hastily, every now and then coming to a hold to impatiently eye up the treadmill. The first suitcase had arrived within less than five minutes but the last one still wasn’t there yet and Luke got a bit uneasy the more time passed by. He repeatedly flashed Tom small glances, just to make sure that he was still sitting where he had left him. It wasn’t until he beheld the second bag that he had definitely reassured himself of Tom’s well-being and payed full attention to the luggage he now had to haul up. They had a schedule to keep and Tom would only have two days off to regain some strength and composure. At the mere thought of it Luke started worrying again. What about Tom’s weight that had been decreasing again and again over the past two months and the ever growing dark shadows beneath his eyes that definitely hadn’t been there before, or the small scratches on his wrists and underarms. The more he agonised about it, the more suspicious things that hadn’t caught his eye before, seemed to appear and destroy Tom’s at least somewhat healthy looks.

When he somehow had managed to carry both, the two suitcases and his own hand luggage, back to Tom who was still watching him, racked with guilt, he handed one bag over to him. Small worry lines formed on his forehead as Tom slowly dragged himself to his feet and obviously struggled to fight the dizziness, taking two small steps to the side and redressing his balance with the aid of the back of the bench.

“Hey there…Don’t rush it now.”

“M’ fine.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” He sounded more sarcastic than he had actually intended to. But then again he was quite determined that Tom hadn’t even realised the disbelieving undertone.

“Tomorrow is my day off, isn’t it?” His casual tone more and more shaded off into exhausted muttering while they stepped into the cool night air.

Instead of listening to Tom’s low murmuring, Luke called for a cab that would see them home, leaving Tom on a seating-accommodation nearby. The airport was merely empty, no fangirls and no paparazzi to take care of. They should be fine for now. Only the next side glance towards Tom dampened his optimism a smidgen. With his head propped on his elbows and his eyes closed Tom sat there entirely quiet. Not even moving one single body part. The unruly ginger coloured curls stuck out in a non-typical way. Luke got the stealthy overall impression that the other looked way too weak and pale. Silently he ground to a halt in front of his protégé and crouched down to look him in the eye without forcing Tom to lift his head. Dull eyes looked up to him as Tom responded to the movement he had sensed in front of him. No bright shine as it was normally the case. All that had remained of the usually so composed man was the small false smile that flickered on his lips. Out of maternal instinct Luke raised his hand and reached for Tom’s cheek to caress it lightly. It felt surprisingly cold under his fingertips and he was barely able to suppress flinching. Unlike Tom who hadn’t moved an inch or shown any other sign of recognizing the fingers put on his cheek.

“You’ve been looking ill lately.”

“That’s just the jet lag.”

“What, a jetlag for like a time period of weeks?”

“I’ve not been looking ill since weeks.”

An upset glance was thrown at Luke and he knew he should shut up but he couldn’t. He started this and there was no further opportunity to talk about this until they would leave for the next interview. So not before tomorrow, and the fact that Tom looked thoroughly ill and worn out didn’t make Luke feel any better about leaving him on his own for an entire day.

“Look, just promise me to take care, yeah? It would neither be good for you nor good for your upcoming appointments if you came down with something.”

“Yeah, I promise. I’m sorry I have bothered you.”

He couldn’t possibly be mad at someone who looked at him with eyes so big they could easily compete with plates.

“You haven’t bothered me. I’m just worried.”

He rose to his feet again and turned his back on Tom to keep an eye out for their cab that should arrive within a few minutes and take them to their flats. A hot shower would do him good, maybe even a bath after their long flight. And perhaps Tom wouldn’t look so critically ill once he had relieved a tiny bit of stress.

A small group of businesspeople crossed a pedestrian crossing in a hurry even though it was far past ten. A few taxis arrived and departed but none of them seemed to be on the lookout. The long wait made Luke feel uneasy and jittery, checking his watch more than twenty times on a whole.

“You know the dates for the day after tomorrow, don’t you?”

He was rewarded with silence. Wondering if Tom had fallen asleep, which wasn’t as unlikely considering his weariness, Luke turned around to check on the person he had to shelter. “Tom, you asleep?”

Luke furrowed his brow as he realised that the seating area was empty. No sign of Tom far and wide, as if he had vanished off the face of the earth.

Well, maybe he’s just headed for the bathroom. His attempt to assure himself failed miserably when he became aware of the fact that he would have heard Tom moving. And never ever would Tom leave without telling him where he’s going.

“Tom?”

As he averted his eyes from Tom’s hand luggage, he was greeted by his own reflection in the glass behind the bench on which the actor had just sat. He looked tired, too, but at his sole discretion much better than Tom. Who was nowhere to be seen; what definitely boded ill. Yet Luke couldn’t accept that Tom should have disappeared out of the blue. Not Tom; not when he was so damn tired that he wasn’t even able to stand upright and hold himself steady. Luke has known Tom long enough by now to be sure of the fact that it was indeed not that common for the other male to offhandedly vanish into thin air. Only in extreme cases Tom tended to show weird or different behavioural patterns that didn’t quite match his usual manner. It wasn’t an extreme case. At least that was what Luke reasoned after looking around and concluding that within a radius of not less than one mile there was no possible danger or threat. Okay, either this was a really absurd prank or Tom had gotten lost while searching for the bathroom in the airport. Luke himself did prefer the latter even if that meant that he had to go and pick Tom up.

“Mr. Windsor?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard the deep baritone and felt someone tapping him on the shoulder. As fast as possible he spun around, careful not to look too frightened or scared. He was a man, after all.

A male in his mid-forties stood in front of him, light stubble framing his otherwise clean shaved head, a striped scarf dangling casually off his neck above his neatly smoothed dark dress pants. Piercing blue eyes were fixated on Luke’s. It gave him the creeps. Remembering that he wasn’t an impolite person he cleared his throat and eased off the frightened expression on his face.

“Yes, that is me.”

“I’m your driver then. Do you have just the two suitcases?”

“Uh, yes, that’s it.” He watched silently as the taxi driver carried both suitcases to the car and packed them in the trunk of the black cab.

“Sir?” slight confusion was written all over his face. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Actually… yes, I am. He will be here in a few minutes.”

He wasn’t so sure anymore but decided to keep that to himself. Maybe he should call Emma or someone of Toms’ friends but would that change anything? What would he even say? Hey, Emma, I lost Tom, do you have any idea what to do? Stupid. He was a manager, god dammit. He could handle the situation very well himself. It wasn’t necessary to ask anyone for help.

A nervous gaze towards his watch told him that it had been more than twenty minutes since Toms’ disappearance.

“You know what? I’ll be back within a minute.”

I just want to make sure, he’s fine, he supplemented his line of thought but didn’t speak out loud. Entering the suddenly slightly deserted airport Luke followed the information signs towards the nearest bathrooms but haltered in his very movements right before stepping in.

The lights were out.

 Why are the goddamn lights out? Airport toilets do have motion detectors. That doesn’t make any sense.

Nervously he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat noisily before he switched the flashlight of his smartphone on.

“Tom?”

Still there was no answer or reaction. Maybe he had fallen into the….. Luke pushed the thought aside. Tom had been dizzy and sleepy but not dumb. Also, the actor was a person that did everything, no matter what, with overwhelming graze.

“Tom, come on man. This is not funny. I’m trying to get you home here. You don’t wanna miss your warm bed, do you?”

By now Luke’s nerves were at breaking point. Permanently on red alert he spun round and scanned his surroundings systematically.

“Tom, I’m not really in the mood to play hide and seek with you. Come on now.”

He exhaled a subtle sigh and lowered the flashlight towards the ground, not expecting anything interesting there either. One second later a small gasp escaped his lips and his jaw dropped open. What the HELL?!

[writingmilo]

Crises and Chocolate - Rowan & Maya (OCs)

A/N I’m not sure if you can tell, but I’m really getting into creating some OCs!

Tagging: @honestlyitsjustkenna, @nekob00, @nerdy-sam, @3dchocolate, @i-am-parsec, @lifeofthesepticeye, @inked-septic, @misstakebunny, @eternally-internaly-screaming, @iwritesinsnotqualityposts, @maybalator. Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged.

Summary: Jackie has to face his one weakness, upset girls. Rowan and Maya have a heartfelt conversation.

Trigger warnings: implied abuse, implied suicidal thoughts, depression

Maya was laying face down on the floor when Jackie entered. "Wow, dude, that bad?"

"Mmmhmmm." Her arm twitched slightly as he approached, but still, her face was smooshed into the carpet.

"What is it, cramps or head?" Jackie knew the drill by now, there were only two reasons Maya would be found on the floor; the floor was her place of refuge when period cramps struck and when her mental health took a plummet.

"Mmmmmmhhhhm." She lifted her head slightly, bouncing it on the carpet to signal the answer.

"Shit, that bad, huh?" Despite having dealt with Chase for many years, Jackie was unusually inept at dealing with Maya's crises. After inspecting the scene one final time, he spoke again. "Is there anything you want?"

She shook her head to the side.

"Should I get Rowan? Or Chase?" His normal confidence gone, Jackie stumbled to find something to do which might help the young addition to the family get off the floor.

And she nodded, at least a little. "Okay, I'll go and get Rowan. Let me know if there's anything else you want, kay?"

Halfway up the stairs, he met Rowan. "Hey Row," he stopped and pointed at them, "Maya, floor," he pointed behind him, down the stairs, "Help?" Rowan chuckled at the helpless hero.

"Sure thing, Jayboy, I need to pee, but I'll be down in a sec."

"A: tmi, B: thank you so so so so much, I owe you one dude!" He moved to the wall, letting Rowan past.

"No probs, Jay. But yeah, get me chocolate. I'll need chocolate." They continued descending the stairs, turning into the toilet on the left as Jackie followed.

"May, I'm going to the shop, do you want anything?" After a few seconds with no reply or movement, he continued. "Rowan'll be through in a sec, I'll be back soon." He grabbed his coat from the hook and glanced back at Maya before he shut the door.

Rowan entered the living room to find Maya laying on the floor in front of the sofa. "Hey May," they sat down on the floor next to her, leaning on the sofa. "You wanna talk?"

At first, there was no reply, which wasn't unusual. There had been other times when Maya had only wanted reassurance when she couldn't talk. But she moved her head, looking at Rowan. Slowly she sat up, crossing her legs underneath her once she was sat next to Rowan.

"So, mum and dad?" It was a sore subject, but Rowan approached it without caution, as usual.

"Yeah, a bit. No, a bit, I don't know, it's just, everything feels like it's just got on top of me. You know?"

"Maybe, I can't say I had it as hard as you have. At least I got to finish school before... You, you've had to move to the other end of the city, start a new school, all while making a new family. I never had to worry about any of that. But you've handled it so well, you've just got on with it. I am so proud of you, May, you know that? I am so, unbelievably proud of you, and honestly, you are so amazing."

"No, I'm not. I've gone through the last five years of school without making a single friend, getting detention every day, screaming at teachers. I've acted like a brat, I've made your life a living hell, and now I annoy everyone in the house by acting like a stroppy teenager."

Hearing their sister talk so belittlingly of herself made Rowan realize how much their parents had fucked her up.

"I don't know how you tolerate me, any of you. Hell, half the time, I can barely tolerate myself, so props to you, I guess." Rowan didn't know how to respond, so silence sat in the air once again.

"I think about them a lot, mum and dad. I think about what they would do if I just went home. Sometimes I wonder if they would open their arms and let me back into the family; whether we would be happier if we tried again. But sometimes I think they would just kill me straight up." She wiped a few tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her hoodie. "Sometimes I think I should just take my chances and- and find out. Just go home and see, cos, I mean, nothing could be any worse than what's already going on in my head, so I might as well just take my chances."

Maya was sobbing, and tears were welling in Rowan's eyes. They wrapped their arm around Maya's shoulder, pulling them into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, May. You're my little sister, it's killing me to see you like this. I want to help you, please, tell me something, anything that I can do to make this go away, to make you happy again. I love you May, if you go, I don't know what I'd do, you're my rock."

The door opened, and Jackie walked in. Walking in to see two kids crying in the living room was not something he was used to, and he was even more lost than before. "Hi, I'm home. You guys okay?"

Rowan looked at Maya, they couldn't respond for her. In the end, she did it herself, "Yeah, I think we are — we will be. I think."

[shadowsfiguresfigments-blog]

A good place to die Chapter 22 (smut)

Warning: harsh language, violence

Right before Penny crashed into me, my foot slipped on the misted floor and I tumbled down, unable to steady myself in time. Pennywise crashed into the sink with enough force to bounce back over me. I hit my head pretty hard, and was momentarily stunned. The clown lost no time, pinning me down easily with one hand, while his jaw started to morph into the protruding abyss of sharp teeth. Unable to do anything, I watched as he spread my numb legs wide apart and tore into me.

A thousand sharp needles dug into my soft skin, punching holes into my lower abdomen, my inner thighs and my pussy. Penny started sucking immediately, going so hard I could feel parts of my skin tear between the wounds. Still dizzy and unable to move my limbs, I tried to look at the huge shape bent over me. His face had lost all resemblance to anything human. His eyes, which had turned a glowing burgundy, loomed over the sides of his head, his nose was entirely gone, and his jaws closed entirely around my abdominal area. In fact, my brain gave me the image of a gigantic deep-sea creature, the ones they don’t show kids because they might induce nightmares.

At that point my strength left me, and I went completely limp, unable to even access my eyeballs. My lids shut themselves, and a calming blackness approached me. I still could feel his tongue wiggling into me, trying to get to the source of my menstrual blood. It almost felt like his tongue had somehow grown hungry little mouths itself, grazing the surface of my womb for every bit of blood possible. But the pain drifted further and further away, until I no longer was aware of anything around me.

 I woke up to the strangest sight. Pennywise was still sucking on me, his face even more deformed, but something had changed. His eyes had lost all color, and there was something… desperate about him. I tried to sit up, but was immediately hit by another wave of nausea. Also, my head hurt horribly. Still, I managed to get into a sitting position, and weakly put my hands on the remnants of his hair. The skin beneath them had turned a scaly brown, and his body had somehow deflated.

I tried to speak, but nothing but a horse croak came out of my mouth. I feebly pushed against his head, not expecting any great results, but with a wet, slopping sound his mouth peeled off my lower body. It was completely lax and slopped unto the floor while his tongue was still buried in my womb.

It wiggled slowly from side to side, somehow desperate to remain within me, but just like the rest of Penny it seemed to lose its strength. Finally, his tongue slid out of me, curling up into a moist red tube. An eerie, whaling sound filled the clouded air. It sounded oddly distant in the mist, yet I knew exactly where it came from. With all my might I struggled to raise my arms further, willing them forward inch by inch, until I was finally able to hug Pennywise. His form oozed out from over- and underneath my arms.

What had happened?

What had I done?

A pain I hadn’t known before shot through me and gave me the control over my body back. I wrapped my legs around him a well in an attempt to contain all of him between my limbs.

We stayed like this for what felt like an eternity. Penny’s cries eventually subsided, and the only sounds audible were my heartbeat and my breath. After a while I nuzzled my face into the gooey sack he had become, caressing him like a wounded child. The dizziness faded, and all I was left with was one hell of a headache, but I didn’t care. My attention was solely focused on Pennywise, on that god-like horror master, who lay in my arms shivering. Sometime later, when he appeared to be more solid, I gently picked up his tongue and put it back into his mouth. It still had the little tentacle-like suckers protruding, but they appeared to be no longer… alive.

Still, Penny was able to keep his tongue in his mouth, and I noticed his eyes had shifted more to the center of his former face. They stared at me, a little more silverish than before, in an incredibly upset way. Not exactly sure of what I was doing, I gently placed a kiss on the spot that used to be his forehead, and started cradling him. I hummed a little melody from an Anime series (I had entirely forgotten the name, but the melody had been stuck in my head all the time) and kept stroking him.

When he finally started to move I felt like crying. He slowly retracted himself from my embrace, and in doing so morphed back to the clown figure I had come to love. Though he appeared to be struggling very much with doing so, he still managed to sit up and, in turn, cradled me against his chest.

“I’m sorry, little one”, he whispered.

“Don’t be”, I managed and buried my face against his shoulder.

I still struggled to understand what had happened, but I was not the only one. I could still feel him shiver, and when I looked up his face seemed to be overwhelmed with showing his emotions.

“Penny, are you okay?”

Silence.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

Still no answer.

“Penny, I love you. Please tell me what’s going on”, I begged.

Several minutes passed before he answered me.

“You’re hurt.”

“Never mind that. What happened to you? You were… goo. I thought you died on me.” My hoarse voice broke on the last words. I sounded like some fucking orc.

“I… don’t know. You smelled so good… And I was hungry.”

He hugged me so tight I was unable to breathe, holding on to me like I was the only thing that could keep him here, in this reality.

“I ate the animal meat you gave me, and I’ve been hungry for so long.”

“So you were in a sort of feeding frenzy?”

He shrugged, and the movement together with his tight embrace lifted me up several inches.

“Did I taste good, at least?”

He grabbed me by my shoulders and held me at arm’s length to get a good look at my face. His eyes had turned a dark purple shade. It was a color I had never seen before in my life. Dots of light appeared in his iris, slowly rotating. It was a hypnotizing sight.

“You are delicious”, he rumbled. “But I could never eat you.”

I stared at him. Had he actually just said that?

He continued to hold my gaze, the dots rotating so fast they turned into fiery rings. I was sure that those rings were a gateway into another world, just like the wormholes on the old sci-fi series.

“I won’t eat you”, he repeated, his voice becoming more steady. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you. And I won’t allow me to hurt you either.”

I clutched at him and anxiously dug my nails into him, afraid of what he was implying.

“Don’t you dare leave me again!”, I rasped as loud as I could. “I can’t deal with this world on my own! I need you. I love you. I can’t feel without you!”

We stared at each other in desperation.

The silence continued until a dripping noise interrupted it. I tore my eyes away from Penny and saw my menstruation was far from over.

“I’m sorry, Penny, I need to get this cleaned up.”

His eyes flashed red for a second, but he nodded.

“I shouldn’t help you with that, sorry”, he mumbled.

I got up on shaky legs, but I found myself able to move without nausea, and set to clean the floor and myself. Fortunately auntie had a habit of hiding the little jewelry she had in a box of tampons, and I simply borrowed one of them. Penny had withdrawn himself into my room, and I made sure that there wasn’t a single drop of blood left on me before I entered.

It sucked to have my period back – I had forgotten how intense the cramps could get, and I had honestly no clue how Penny and I were supposed to deal with it. Penny obviously wasn’t “safe” around me while I bled, and it hurt him to know that. Furthermore I would really have to worry about protection from now on, though I didn’t even know if I could get pregnant from him.

With all this whirling around in my head I went back into my room only to find Penny in his human form sitting on my bed. I went straight to him and clasped his hands. At least I tried to, but mine were just so much smaller than his he ended up curling his around mine. A troubled smile appeared on his luscious lips, but the lines on his forehead didn’t fade at all.

“You know, I’m still not afraid of you”, I teased him, and kissed him briefly.

“I know”, he sighed. “But I don’t know what I might do to you. I don’t like this sensation.”

I tried to make light of the situation, both for his and my sake.

“Well, it’s not like we can just ask anybody, right? We’re no ordinary couple, no sir. Imagine auntie’s face when I come up to her and ask her for relationship advice on me and my horror-clown-shapeshifter. It would probably give her a heart-attack.”

He just stared at me, his handsome features locked in discomfort.

“Also, she might be upset about your nutritional choices. And the fact that I don’t care.”

After that also failed to receive a reaction, I just sat down on his knee and kissed him as slowly as I managed to without ravaging him right there. At least he kissed me back, and soon his hands wandered down my back and raised the familiar goose bumps.

“We’ll get through this”, I gasped in between kisses, but the words felt empty. Isn’t it amazing how language can be so unable to express your feelings? The sensation of believing in something so strongly everything else seems to fade, the attraction to someone else that consumes your thoughts and leaves you both weak and yet full of power, and the desperation that either breaks you to pieces or makes you discover a strength you never even considered possible.

All those things I was unable to say with my words I communicated with my body. Our tongues entwined, probing each other’s mouths, while our hands sought to bring us as close together as possible. It was an entirely new sensation to feel Penny in his human disguise. Instead of steel cables covered in silk I tore of his clothes to feel smooth skin over well-formed muscles, betraying the strength within his slim frame. And where he would normally touch me with his cool gloves warm hands slid over my hips and my breasts.

Suddenly the tension between us changed. An slight air of desperation that had been there before turned into a full storm. It left us clutching at each other with so much force it almost hurt. Our teeth grinded together as our kisses became increasingly deeper and anxious, and I could no longer wait for him. I grabbed his dick to reposition it, and with one swift thrust he was inside me.

He may not have been as big as in his clown form, but I came instantly nonetheless. I wrapped my legs around him while my body shook and closed the last little space between us. There was no time to relax or get accustomed to him; instead his thrust were so quick and hard I was moved around on the mattress. I dug my teeth into his lower lip, and in response his fingernails clawed my back. Moans escaped both him and me, and with one final forceful thrust he shuddered and came, triggering my second orgasm simultaneously.

All of this must have happened within five minutes or less, but it was the most intense sensation I had ever experienced. The desperation had subsided, but was not gone. Penny had collapsed on me, but his arms stayed firmly around me, as did mine. We both shuddered in the afterglow, the force of our lust dissipating only slowly.

I clung to him while tears seeped into my eyes.

“I don’t care about being human, Penny.”

[dictionarywrites]

Oh my gosh i love your writing 💜💜💜. I wanted to request Loki not feeling well or somthing. But the Grandmaster not wanting to show how worried he is because he doesn't want to look weak or harm his reputation.

Thanks so much, Anon, that’s so kind of you to say! I’m not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but I took the idea that came to mind and went with it.

Loki is ensconced in the quarters he has managed to get for himself on Sakaar, attempting to work his way through a rather uncomfortable situation - when the Grandmaster arrives at his door, Loki loses his temper, and fears the worst will be his punishment. Rated M. Mild warning for blood & implied non-consensual hormone treatment, as well as the expected power imbalance. 

Ao3 link. Tip jar. Send a request. 

Loki lets out ashort, pained groan, and he shifts on his side, his head pressed against his pillow,which is markedly cool beneath his skin, and the fabric itself is crusted withfrost. The Jötnar, Loki knows, do not tend to beds themselves: they sleep onslabs of cool ice with frozen pieces of stone beneath their heads, and Lokiwishes, in this moment, he could indulge in such luxury. Instead, he lies,twitching occasionally, on a bed of luxurious silks and eiderdown pillows,frost forming beneath the weight of his limbs.

He looks up at theceiling, which is – of course, this is a planet of decadence and excess –panelled in mirrors, and he sees himself in the mirror. His skin is visiblydamp, where he is warmer than he ought be and affecting condensation to formbefore it can turn to frost, and he is breathing heavily, his chest rising andfalling. His stomach is cramping, his head is aching, and Loki wishes he could be naught but a river rock insteadof a man.

Naked, he can seehis own cock limp against his thigh, and see the blood between his legs. Hemight wear some sort of padding, some device or other, but as soon as he thinksof moving, he feels another cramp make itself known, dragging about the muscles deep within his belly and clenching,twisting.

Oh, what agony.

A ring sounds fromthe door to Loki’s private (ha!) roomin this towering building of Sakaar, and he groans, pressing his face furtherinto the pillow. His hand against his belly, he lets ice form upon his fingers,and he uses it to try to soothe the desperate pains within him.

“Hello?” comes a voice from the intercom,and Loki feels his blood run hot. The Grandmaster! Shit. Shit!

“Shit,” Lokimutters to himself, dragging himself hastily from bed and dragging the sheetabout his body – with the pain distracting him, his illusions are impossible tomaintain, and he is forced to stumble toward the door, leaning heavily on themirrored wall beside it as he pulls it open.

The Grandmasterstands at the door of Loki’s bedchambers, and he takes Loki’s bedraggled statein: he looks from Loki’s limp hair to his bitten-bloody lips, down to his dampchest and the half-frosted sheets wrapped hap-hazardly around his body, down toLoki’s bare feet. His eyes narrow slightly, and Loki feels his heart leap inhis chest.

“You were in bed?At this hour?”

“It’s not dawnyet, Grandmaster,” Loki says, his fist tightening in its grip upon the fabricover his belly, and the Grandmaster lets out a short, single exhalation.

“Well, exactly. It’sway too early to go to bed. Someone in there with you?” Why is he here? Loki looks askance between theGrandmaster and the two guards that flank him – Topaz, mercifully, is at leastnot to be seen – but he gleans no answers.

“No, Grandmaster:I am quite alone.”

“Uh huh,” theGrandmaster says. Loki hears the dry disbelief in his tone, and he feels fearburst within him – Monogamy is justthe name of a cocktail here on Sakaar, and he finds it difficult to believethat the Grandmaster would be gentle were Loki to have lain with another in thefive days he’s been on this damned planet. Particularly since they have only lain together once, and that was in the midst of anorgy. “There’s purple on your mouth.”

“What?” Loki says,and he turns to the mirror, the fingers of his spare hand going up to his lips.The Grandmaster isn’t wrong: there ispurple on his lower lip, and he realises when he feels its un-Æsir thicknessbeneath his fingers that it’s his own blood – these are the worst monthly painsLoki has ever experienced, and it seems even the most basic of his enchantmentsis failing him. “That’s my blood.”

“Your blood is red,isn’t it?” The Grandmaster presses, and Loki hesitates before he awkwardlyshakes his head.

“No, not really,”Loki murmurs, and then says, “Look, Grandmaster, I— This isn’t a good time forme to receive guests, and I must apologize for my appearance, but I’m… Actuallyrather unwell.”

“Look, ah, Loki— You’re cute and all, but I don’tlike to be lied to.”

“I’m not lying,” Loki says, plaintively. “I amill.”

“There’s noillness on Sakaar,” the Grandmaster says, beginning to step forwards, and Lokiungracefully steps back away from him, tripping on the sheet in his hurry toget away and landing in a heap upon the ground, the blanket falling about hiswaist. “Germs, stuff like that – they’re screened as people come in.”

“Would you just get out?” Loki snaps, frost forming onhis lips, and suddenly, the world exists in a haze of red: Loki is on his feet,his teeth sharpening even as he looks into the face of the Grandmaster, hishands clenched into fists and gleamingwith heated energy – seiðr, in its purest and unadulterated form. “I am not fitto entertain!” The Grandmaster’s hand is around his throat, his grip tight, andall at once, Loki’s magic fails him, the Grandmaster’s lip curling, and Lokiflinches at the noise as the door to Loki’s bedchambers slams shut, leaving thetwo guards outside.

“I thought youwere one of those Æsir, but you’re not, are you?” the Grandmaster says, softly,and Loki glances to the ceiling: his flesh is entirely blue, now, and the redhaze is explained by the protective lens of deepest crimson that has formedover his eyes. The blood upon his thighs is lilac, now, instead of red, and hefeels his shame deep within him. “You can’t talk to me like that, Kiki. Peoplewill get the wrong idea.” The Grandmaster squeezes that bit tighter, his griptight around the column of Loki’s throat, bringing him to the brink of choking,and then he pushes Loki away, and Loki lands on the edge of his bed.

There is somethingLoki cannot quite place in the Grandmaster’s deep, golden eyes, some strangeemotion that Loki has not seen the older man show before. The Grandmaster’sgaze flits from Loki’s face, down between his legs – he had been excited whenhe had first realised the precise natureof Loki’s sexual organs, but now a dawn seems to break upon his face.

“You got yourperiod, huh?”

“Yes,” Loki says,tiredly. “I’ve never experienced it quite so… Painfully.”

“Yeah, that’ll bethe hormone enhancement,” the Grandmaster says, lowly. Loki meets his gaze, hisown eyes lidded, and his silent, ragingquestion is answered: “Everyone one this planet is horny all the time, and withno, ah, impulse control. You thinkthat’s an accident? I’m not stupid. Gottakeep people off their game.”

The Grandmasterreaches out, and Loki flinches, expecting some sort of touch that will send himburning to ashes, or melting, but nosuch thing comes: the Grandmaster’s fingers settle upon Loki’s belly, hisusually warm hands surprisingly cool, and Loki lets out a low groan of reliefas the pain within him is steeped in some sort of magical anaesthesia, forcingthe cramping muscles to still themselves. The Grandmaster’s lips are parted,his gaze deep with something morethan mere concern at having a bed-mate put out of action, and Loki feels thefear and apprehension he usually feels around the Grandmaster stir beneath hisskin. The Grandmaster is so powerful,and yet here, he seems capable of kindness.

Is he a greaterfool than Loki had thought?

“Listen,” theGrandmaster murmurs, “I, uh, I likeyou, Loki. So I’m gonna put this little, this little  disagreement behind us. I’m gonna stay heretonight, and we’re gonna say, for, ah, appearances’sake, that you made up for that nastiness you just showed me.”

“Grandmaster,”Loki whispers, but it is not quite within him to protest, exhausted as he is,and he drops back upon the bed as the Grandmaster goes to the door, orderinghis two guards to leave him be. He watches the reflection in the ceiling as theGrandmaster casts off his outer robe, then climbs onto the bed, dragging Lokiup to lie beside him. And then—

His eyes close.

“Grandmaster?”

“Uh huh?”

“You’re… Are yougoing to sleep?”

“Sure am. Somespecies, they uh, they need a bit of shut-eye,but I just do it for the fun of it. That okay?” Loki stares at him in thereflection, and then shakes his head. “Great.”The Grandmaster drags him closer, his palm settling on Loki’s belly andreleasing more of that wonderfully numbingmagic, and Loki sighs, letting his own eyes close. “You’re my favourite, Loki.Don’t want to see the goods get too damaged.”

My favourite. The words echo in Loki’s head – he should be terrifiedof this Elder Being, this man with boundless power at his fingertips, who killsindiscriminately and laughs in the face of genocide, and yet— His favourite! His favourite! His favourite! Even bloody, and pained, and angry, you are his favourite!

Without evenrealising, Loki’s teeth burst through the flesh of his lower lip once more, andhe tastes the acid tang of his own Jotunn blood, his red eyes wide. As theGrandmaster softly snores beside him, holding Loki in his palm like the insect Loki is in comparison, Lokistares at their reflection on the ceiling, and ignores the sting at the cornersof his eyes.

[sweetnestor]

On Days Like This | Chapter 3

teamiplier + oc, romantic/angst/platonic

PREVIOUS FICS (if you’re new here then I suggest reading these first)

previous chapter

The doctors and nurses were so sympathetic, it was kind of sickening. Obviously, they didn’t know our situation, most of them assumed we were newlyweds grieving the loss of our baby. That was probably because I was crying uncontrollably once I was conscious again. It was an anxiety thing, Ethan had to make that known the nurses.

I wasn’t really sure what happened once I was put in the ambulance. Maybe I passed out. Maybe I panicked so hard that I blocked it out of my memory. All I knew was that it was still the same day, except now the sun was going down. The show would start soon, and it made me cry more. One nurse deemed that I was “in hysterics” and that if I didn’t calm down after a certain amount of hours, I’d be admitted to the psych ward.

“She has generalized anxiety disorder,” Ethan explained. “She’s just overwhelmed.”

“Does she take any medication?” the nurse asked.

“No.”

“Alright. The doctor will be in shortly to go over more things with you.”

How many more times was I going to be in the hospital before it finally kills me? If it wasn’t for a suicide attempt, it was a goddamn miscarriage. Not only that, this was the second time in the same year that I’ve gotten pregnant. I didn’t even think that was possible. How could I have been so stupid?

“Bella,” Ethan tried again once we were alone in my hospital room. He had shed his own tears earlier, now he just wanted me to talk to him. He scooted his chair closer to my bedside and placed his hand on mine. “Did, did you know you were pregnant? Is that why you’re not saying anything? I won’t be mad…”

I kept my head turned away from him. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t tell him anything.

He rubbed my fingers with his thumb. Then he moved my hair out of my face, which only made me tear up more. I heard him sigh, and then,

“Skin… heat…”

Fuck.

“Hair in your mouth…” he softly sang, “feet touching feet, oh you… and I…”

Ethan let go of my hand so he could get on the bed with me. I was crying a little bit more now, so I curled into his chest as he continued singing.

“Safe, from the world, though the world will try…”

It was comforting and cathartic. Ethan rarely sang around me, but when he did, it was when I really needed to hear it. I felt small and safe in his arms, I just wanted to stay like that and forget everything else. It didn’t fix anything, but it was soothing and it helped get the worst of it out of my system.

I was finally calm enough when a blonde woman in a white lab coat entered the room. She was vaguely familiar, her perky face wasn’t something I was used to, given all the serious expressions I had been receiving since being here. Her voice was familiar too.

“Remember me?” she asked. “I’m Dr. Stevens, I performed your surgery. I just want to go over everything we did, and where to go from here. Is that okay?”

I nodded, and Ethan kept his arm around me.

“You were twelve weeks along, so we had to perform a dilation and curettage, or a D&C,” Dr. Stevens explained. “What that means, is that you had an incomplete miscarriage and we had to expel the tissue from your uterus. Everything went smoothly, you should have a very quick recovery. You might even be out of here by tomorrow.”

That was relieving to hear. I couldn’t bear to miss any more of the tour. I didn’t want to be stopped by this little setback.

“Will she be able to get on a plane by tomorrow?” Ethan asked, much to my surprise. “We’re not from here, we came from California.”

“And why would I go back?” I asked a little too defensively. Yup, that was the first thing I said to him after hours of tearful silence, and after that lovely serenade.

“You just had a miscarriage,” he responded, gesturing towards the bed we were sitting on.

“Recovery time from a D&C is only a couple of days,” said Dr. Stevens, who seemed a little taken aback by our moods. “You’ll be free to go tomorrow, Ms. Santiago, but don’t strain yourself too much.”

“So I can go back to what I was doing before?” I asked. “I can travel, and I can sing?”

She nodded. “You should be just fine. Just don’t put too much stress on yourself. I understand you have an anxiety disorder. Were you under a lot of stress prior to this?”

That was when I hesitated. It’s one thing to have a miscarriage, it’s another thing for me to unknowingly and inadvertently cause it from my inability to relax.

“She gets travel anxiety, and we’re doing a stage show all over the country for the next two weeks,” Ethan spoke for me. “She gets panic attacks, and she’s always tense.”

Well, damn.

“I see,” the doctor said. “Well, it’s as I said, you should be fine by tomorrow. Just take it easy, get some rest, and do what you have to do to calm your anxiety.” She offered us a smile. “Alright?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

With that, Dr. Stevens left the room. That only prompted the upcoming snap from my boyfriend.

“You can't keep doing this,” he said seriously.

I looked at him, taken aback. I wasn't sure why I was defensive. “What, like a miscarriage is gonna stop me?”

“I just don't think you should get right back into tour,” he told me.

“It's only the first day! And speaking of tour, what time is it? You could probably still make the first show!” I insisted.

Ethan chuckled, but I could tell he was annoyed. He got off the bed and sat down in his chair. “Yeah, like I'm gonna leave you here alone. I already tweeted out that I was gonna miss it.”

My heart pounded. “What did you say exactly?”

“That you were sick and I needed to stay with you. No one seemed to ask any questions, they only sent well wishes.”

It still made me nervous. I wanted to see what was being said online, but I had left my phone on the bus at the venue. I wanted to know what the crew were thinking. I had to know if Kathryn told them what had happened since she was the only person I had told, and Ethan hadn't found out until we were here. The thought of returning to the tour with all of them knowing I bled out a fetus was almost unbearable. On top of that, I did not want to go back to Los Angeles either.

“We still have tour in January,” Ethan said, sounding less annoyed. “You could go to that one instead. I'm sure everyone will understand.”

Those words coming out of his mouth just made my blood boil. Why would he suggest something like that? I scoffed, unable to form words for a moment.

“And go back home alone?” I asked rhetorically. “And be miserable and lonely like I was last time?”

“I can go with you, if that's what you want.” His tone was gentle, but it only made me angrier.

“I want to stay here! I want you to stay here! Do you think a silly little miscarriage is going to make me go insane? Is that what you think of me?”

Ethan sat back in his chair, now fuming. He scrolled on his phone to avoid talking to me anymore, while I graciously flipped through the TV channels. I was able to find a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy, which only made Ethan leave to the cafeteria. He might as well have gone back to the venue.

~

The next morning, I was discharged. I only had some cramping, which was perfectly normal (at least that’s what I told myself to ease the anxiety.) I could handle some cramping. Dr. Stevens reminded me to take it easy and not to strain myself too much. Just one day, and then I was free to go back to my usual involuntary clenching.

One of the show producers had called Ethan earlier that morning to tell us which bus line to take because for some reason (arrows pointed at me) they couldn’t get a personal driver. Yes, a charter bus full of strangers would be a much better fit. Can’t pick and choose my anxieties all the time, I suppose. It was still better than flying home by myself. That morning, Ethan and I got on a bus to Akron, Ohio.

This particular venue had two shows, one of which was in the early afternoon. Ethan would be missing that show, and I would miss my acoustic set. We were five hours away and on public transportation. He missed two shows because of me. Why did this have to happen?

I didn’t have my phone or my sleeping pills, so you could imagine the fun I had on the bus ride. Ethan told me every so often that I could still get on a plane to LA if I wanted to, and that wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Why replace one anxiety with an anxiety that was accompanied with crippling loneliness? I also noticed him Googling everything he could about recovery time from a miscarriage, despite everything Dr. Stevens had told us. I was perfectly capable of carrying on with the tour, and Ethan was starting to make me feel like I wasn’t.

“Hey,” he said after a while.

I had been staring out the window, trying to cling to my sanity as the bus moved. I took a deep breath and turned to him.

“Did you know you were pregnant?”

“I would have told you if I knew,” I grumbled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What would you have done this time if you knew?” he asked.

Growing more agitated, I shrugged. “Same thing as last time. What else?”

Ethan didn’t say anything, but he kept looking at me. He leaned in closer to me, lowering his voice. “You were twelve weeks along.”

“I know. So?”

“That means you got pregnant in July,” he continued, keeping his voice lowered. “We didn’t have sex in July.”

It took a moment for my brain to process what he just implied. I chuckled in disbelief and annoyance as I looked at him. “Yes we did.”

Ethan shifted in his seat like he was about to mansplain me. “No we didn’t. July was when… I wasn’t feeling okay, so we didn’t have sex, remember?”

“It was for half the month,” I argued, getting infuriated but keeping my voice at a harsh whisper. “I remember because we had an anniversary - which you forgot - and we didn’t even celebrate it. It was the last two weeks of July.”

For some reason, that wasn’t convincing him. He sat back, deep in thought. He didn’t even hear me.

“Did you notice any symptoms? You weren’t throwing up? Your period was normal?”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself-”

“Yes you do,” Ethan deadpanned. “You got pregnant at a time where we weren’t doing anything. What am I supposed to think?”

My hands clenched into fists. Lord please help me not yell at my boyfriend on a crowded bus.

“I’m on the pill,” I told him, not sounding any less angry. “Maybe I missed a couple of days - I do that. And we were traveling all over the place! D23, Indy PopCon, Vegas, PAX West, Maine, Orlando… Of course I was gonna get nausea from the anxiety of traveling! Of course I was gonna be so stressed that it messed with my period! What are you trying to say?”

He sat back with no response. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

______

next

[cafenzie]

oh look, me again regarding things in fanfic that bug me --

/ This will be concerning menstruation and menstrual cycles/periods as it relates in general and it’s misconceptions found in descriptions of writing.

So.......sometimes I feel like the people who write fanfiction and scenes or areas regarding periods...don’t have periods??? Given that I know the number of female to male writers can be equal, I also know a ton more girls that happen to write and so it’s really confusing how misleading some may periods sound in fanfic when....they would, theoretically, have experience of periods themselves. 

And it’s not the weird un-experienced “sex scene - esque” thing that I see a lot of in fanfiction either, because it’s a natural and obvious thing, my friend. Periods are a thing and so if you don’t like the talk about it you can turn back now but honestly this shouldn’t be “disgusting” in any way what I’m about to unleash on you because it’s just natural so get over it, really. ( unless you have a fear of blood, that’s different ).

What I’m talking about is writers who dramatize or don’t realistically portray periods and menstrual cycles. Whether it’s the “bright red blood” or, you know, like blood everywhere ( like....on the wall kind of everywhere because then it sound like more like a homicide case instead ) or just the general points people can miss so I’ll just start in no particular order of how to properly go about writing about periods and people on their periods :

01. Please, for the love of the stars, don’t always go describe the blood as bright red. I see this so many times that I wonder if some of these people really don’t have periods or understand how they work ?? Let’s make this easy: menstrual blood comes in all variety of colors from that light crimson ( especially during a lighter cycle ) all the way to a dark brown that, yeah, sounds like it’s from the wrong place, but it’s not.  Actually, the darker your blood is, the more likely it’s “leftover” as I call it, meaning it’s the blood left over from last month’s lining and never got disposed of out of your lady bits and because it’s been so long, the color darkens and only gets disposed of when your new cycle starts. Usually, I start with darker blood because of that exact reason -- it’s one of the first things to come out along with all that fresh blood that, yes, may look a little brighter.  But the rest of the point is: not everyone has bright red blood on their menstrual cycle. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to anyone who did, besides in small, sparse amounts..! 

02. Do NOT cover up shitty actions with PMS reasoning. Do not validate someone shitting all over a person just because “they are on their period”. I hear this one so often, of how women are portrayed as literal devils while on their periods because of “PMS”. Yeah, okay, I get pretty annoyed more so when I’m on my period, but that’s due to three main reasons: (1) Hormones are the secret behind “PMS” as everyone dubs it. Estrogen and Progesterone levels in your body may heighten or serious decrease, causing imbalance, which affects your Serotonin, which is a neurotransmitter responsible for your mood balance, pain perception, and the sleep-wake cycle your body is used to. (2) I put in a trusty tampon but came back realizing my cycle is too heavy and I bled through. Maybe I was out and about. Maybe I was wearing nice underwear. Maybe I put the tampon in wrong or I should have brought a pad to put with it. Whatever the case is, every woman deals with her period a different way, personality-wise included. The myth about grumpy women who get super cheery is just waay too cliche for one thing, and it’s just ea fact that some women perceive their periods in different ways: I know girls that perk up during their cycle and we hang out and laugh and shit. I know women that may bite you if you try and grab her pizza slice, but who wouldn’t normally?? Fact is that variety is a thing with so called “PMS” and while it’s a handy term, it’s also become very desensitized to just mean that cliche stereotype of a she-devil or dragon lady who’s simultaneously bleeding out.

I’ll add on another common stereotypical misconception ( or, a least, how it’s treated to seem like ) with eating habits of a girl fighting through her cycle. Yeah, we get hungry. We eat, probably a lot more than normal, and yeah we probably eat a lot more greasy or starchy food than normal. And yeah...we fucking eat chocolate man, because it’s delicious and we deserve it. However, we do this for a reason and -- like everything else there -- it varies between each person. When we are on our periods, we are continuously losing blood ( on average 40 milliliters a day for approximately 5 days give or take ). Generally, we try and make up for everything lost during that time by drinking lots of water, but also eating more -- also as a side-effect of our Serotonin as well as the initial phase before bleeding in which our body is thinning we may have a child ( in which case it makes us think we should be eating for two ). So yeah, food is good. On another note, caffeine can actually heighten your irritability and pain during a menstrual cycle and it’s usually advised to avoid it for that time, unless you’re like me and can’t live without that first sip of morning coffee so just be wary.

03. Believe or not, those who don’t have periods, it smells. Vaginas have an odor and let me tell you that odor just come to life with that discharge. Again, everyone differs, but smells that can come from below deck are caused by bacteria mostly and the fact that you’ve been retaining moisture down there all this time by wearing underwear ( on a side note, it’s actually very good to go without the knickers every so often, even just to bed! Air that sucker out, she needs it ). Take into mind you’re losing blood and mucus and tissue that’s literally shedding from your uterus. Vaginas also can smell on a regular basis because that’s how the cookie crumbles, folks. Same thing, minus the blood and gore.  It’s only different or “bad” if it’s because of an infection like yeast or your pH levels are off ( like using douches / body washes up in there. Trust me -- DON’T ). Otherwise, it’s normal!

04. Cramping and pain is normal, yes, but please remember the other sides of your cycle from fevers, headaches ( the worst ), migraines, heartburn, aching muscles, dizziness, vomiting / nausea, and the list goes on ! Period pain is not just defined by those cramps that we feel all the way from right above our uterus all the up into our belly because there is so much more. Not only that, but people experience cramping differently -- some don’t even notice it at all!  Take into mind that lots of people ( like me ) commonly take medications like Midol or Pamprin to suppress or relieve these symptoms along with others. Some take it religiously as soon as they see the blood coming, but there’s also light-takers who only take a dosage when the feel it.  Me, personally -- I’ll use a hot pad if it feels really bad and drink lots of cranberry juice to make sure I’m still peeing well and I may find that laying in that strange position that took me 30 minutes to find is also helpful. Point is, you can surely relieve that pain with medication and most smart girls do if they know they need it, so it really just doesn't make much sense to constantly write about your girl writhing on the floor in pain every month now does it?

05. Okay, now we’re really gonna get personal so fair warning of possible/slight NSFW below. ....For my girls out there who get really heated during their period, I feel you. Honestly, I think this is one of my personal main indicators of my oncoming cycle since I’ll notice that “ hey, I’ve been fantasizing about Bucky Barnes way more than I normally do ”. Yeah, given I love Bucky Barnes, I think of myself somewhat humble for not thinking about what else that metal arm could be put to good use for every single night, okay?  I guess this segment will also just be informative for those of you unfamiliar with sex during your period or masturbation during a cycle, so be prepared if you’re wondering. For this, my main concern with fanfic writers is that they write how blood get everywhere, and I mean like on the ceiling kind of everywhere or like soaks through to the mattress and I’ll sit here so confused. So let Abby here inform you all about the basic 101 of the menstrual nsfw news. 

First thing’s first is that it really does not get everywhere. I’ll be brutally honest in saying that when I do the deed, the aftermath and cleanup is not as bad as you think. Maybe just a quick rinse off or brush off, quick dab of a cool cloth with water on it -- you’re good. ( obviously do take care of your toys though, please: I just mean this in general ). And if you really are worried about the mess you might make, like I was the very first time, lay out a towel !! ( other option is the shower, just don’t slip friends ).  Second thing: will it hurt? In my experience, it shouldn’t?? I hope it doesn’t and if you do feel pain, just stop. For me, personally, it tends to relieve a lot of my pain while, ultimately, satisfying my crave so I’m happy.  Lastly, the oral implied in a lot of fanfic can be...excessive? And while this isn’t bad, it can also leave about a big chunk of the previous information and description  from the color, smell, texture, even taste! ( for some reason there’s the popular cliche of the person raising their head after giving them head and they just see like the blood dripping down their chin and I’m like ??? not very realistic guys tbh ). Since we’ve covered the first two already we’ll jump into texture and taste: remember that the discharge during a cycle isn’t just blood. It’s a mixture of loose blood, bits of tissue from the lining that was shed, and your cervical mucus ( which mostly determines the texture as a whole ). Cervical mucus can change and differ but is mostly known for these main descriptions: tacky/sticky, creamy, milky, watery, etc. It’s mostly a matter of how dense it is whether it’s like a thick cream, a lotion, or water. Take into mind how the person giving oral will perceive this along with taste! Those little balls of flesh from your uterus lining the wall? Yeah, they’ll get some of that, and it will look black and that may be freaky but it’s honest. Despite the common mistake that period discharge tastes like the blood that comes from your arm or mouth, it does not. It will not have a super metallic-y taste and, overall, may not be pleasant ( also given how old it could be ). That doesn’t mean it can’t be good, to a degree, but don’t expect Dracula to be lusting after you. 

I think that’s all I can currently think of, please add on if you can any more side-notes or comments, questions, etc. For you fanfic writers, please TAKE NOTE OF THIS. And to my girls out there, you keep rocking it, gorgeous. 

[roughmagicblog-blog]

Let The Air In

by Sydney Gayle Amanuel

Northern California looked like fall but it was August. Their draught was and still is, really bad. I remember thinking, ‘The planet is dying and our solution is to give it a slow death.’ I lived in NY but I was teaching at Berkeley for the summer. My boyfriend, who lived in Boston at the time, was on a tour with his band down the East Coast. We were at almost perfect ends of the United States, Northern Cali and South Florida, when I called him and told him I was pregnant. We'd been dating for almost a year.

We have what most consider a good, solid relationship; we are open and honest in our communication, we like to be around each other, he's seen me poop and vomit, all the basics. We talk about everything from politics to pop culture and like to debate with one another, so we’ve already discussed our stances on women's rights long ago. We agree that a woman has the right to decide what's best for herself, her life, and her body.

It was comforting to know that conversation already happened and there wasn’t some “hills like white elephants” situation in the room that we had to step over, but it was still hard to tell him knowing what came next: my personal choice to have an abortion.

I'm very close with my mom, so I was able to talk to her about my pregnancy and my plan to have an abortion. My best friend and roommate was an activist and grass rooter for planned parenthood and knew more than I did. I definitely did spend my time around like-minded people, but to have my mother, best friend, and my partner support me immediately, no questions asked, was more than relief, more than luck. I can't imagine the emotional upheaval for girls in less ideal situations. I was surrounded by positivity for my decision, something you don't see or hear about often and something that is more common than you think. Statistics say 1 in 3 women will have an abortion in her lifetime. It was only after I had decided to have mine, that women I knew spoke up and shared their experiences with me. As soon as I got back to New York I called my local Planned Parenthood and made an appointment.

As comforting as it was to have support from friends, the week before the abortion I found myself doing what everyone does, googling. How much does it hurt? How much does it cost? Will I feel physically bad after? Is the bleeding like a period? What method will be used? How long does it take? What are the risks?

It was almost like google was typing back, surprise! Feel ashamed you careless idiot! Every story I read, every personal account of an abortion, was a tale of woe and regret, of guilt and shame over the death of a child. And these weren't even sites with a blatant religious slant, these made up the first full page of my google search, presented as fact. The internet is not really your friend, not in our post-fact world, alternative fact world. You would think with the abundance of fact checking capabilities and resources, we could sift, see past misinformation, but it’s not so easy. Especially if you are alone. If, unlike me, you didn’t have a mom or a best friend to turn to and say things out loud, make them real. I wasn't really phased by the stories, I've always been strong in my convictions and I've never sat on the fence about a woman's right to choose, but I was stunned at the amount of forums screaming, "Don't do it."

After hours of clicks and scrolls I found myself deep in Youtube looking at abortion photos week by week up until stillbirths. *Not for the faint of heart* If you don’t like blood, don’t look. But for me, it was helpful and kind of amazing. I felt like I was rediscovering my vagina in a way. I remembered when I learned women can masturbate just like men do and orgasm too—I felt tricked. The woman is taboo, and everyone wants to talk about us, just not truthfully and not with us in the room. I closed my laptop.

The day of my procedure. I’m about to get down to details here, feel free to turn back, I’m not censoring anything so, content warning folks.

My roommate went with me to the clinic—turned out guests couldn’t really go further than the front door, they had a whole separate waiting room on the bottom floor. I sat in the designated patients waiting room, staring at glossy pamphlets, wondering if the girl across from me was also here for an abortion. I looked around trying to nonverbally communicate and tell her, “It's okay, I’m scared too.” I didn't know this at the time, but Planned Parenthood not only provides many services for women’s health, but also they have their own staff dedicated to insurance as well as counselors to talk to. Planned Parenthood didn't take my insurance, so they lead me to their insurance floor where I sat and talked with an agent. She explained that through the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare), I would be covered for my abortion as well as a new birth control method. I asked what the co-pay was or what she guesstimated the bill to be. She told me I was completely covered, I wouldn't owe anything, that's what the ACA is for. It helps people—that's what it does.

After the insurance was settled, I was called to have a quick checkup and ultrasound. Then they sent me to meet with a counselor who looked a lot like a girl I used to do a radio talk show with in college. I didn't know meeting a counselor was mandatory and I felt uncomfortable, afraid she was going to talk me out of getting the abortion or make me feel the shame the internet implied I should feel. When she asked, “What brings you here today?" I think I may have just said "Abortion." I was so confused and anxious. She nodded and we started to discuss birth control. I wanted to explain: I’m not careless or uneducated, I taught sex-ed to middle and high schoolers, my mom supported me, I use condoms, I’m in a healthy relationship, I’m normal. I wanted to be told that an abortion was normal. She eased me through any questions I had or topics I wanted to discuss. I asked if I could see the sonogram they took of me. She told me I was six weeks along and there, in the shaded grey was a barely visible white dot on my black open uterus. A sack of cells. I kind of wanted to keep the picture, but then thought she might think that was weird, and I realized, yeah that is weird, so I didn't ask. We decided on a new form of birth control together. I had been on the pill since I was 15, I had no choice at the time. I had ovarian cysts and had to regulate myself before they got any worse, but didn't like the negative hormonal effects from the pill. I had mood swings, weight gain, acne, and I never remembered to take it which made me sick and reduced its effectiveness. AKA I had an ineffective form of birth control, which is why I got pregnant. I decided to have an IUD which, she told me, could be put in right after the abortion. No one I knew had an IUD, even my Gyno never mentioned it. But its description was like a light at the end of the tunnel I was walking down again, my taboo female body had been left in the dark.

When it comes to an abortion, there are two options: a surgical abortion or a medical abortion. Surgical abortions take place in a hospital or center, while medical abortions are induced by pills you can take at home. If you have the surgical abortion, you have the choice to be put to sleep or stay awake.

I wanted to have the surgical. I wanted to stay awake. I wanted to fully understand the procedure, be present and remember everything. If I chose to be put to sleep, would I remember anything? Or would it feel like those waking dreams, the ones you can’t discern from reality, and leave you only feeling sad when you wake up. Wishing you could go back in and feel it, even if it was bad. I wanted to know, so I could tell my friends, any woman, that her choice is her choice and it's okay.

In my hospital gown, with blue booties on my feet, I sat in a semicircle of chairs. Other girls also had gowns and booties on, we were all the same. Sitting.

I was given a small white paper cup containing two tylenol pills.

I laid on a white table in a small white room. There were three women in the room, a doctor, her assistant and myself. The doctor explained the numbing solution she was going to put on my cervix can make a person’s lips numb too, like novocaine. I laid back, she numbed me, and kept talking, explaining the next steps. The numbing stuff actually made me lose hearing, quite quickly. The doctor had been talking to me in a calm, slow voice and suddenly a ringing started that got higher in pitch until my ears felt like they were underwater while also on an airplane. I tried to talk, to tell her I couldn’t hear, but I realized I couldn't form the words. So I just sort of grunted to let her know I was okay. She turned on a large machine next to the table I laid on. It looked like a vacuum—it basically was. The machine made a loud sucking and groaning noise which I could hear clearly. This was when the pain started. Special absorbent rods were then used to dilate my cervix. I assumed it was similar to induced labor—your insides sort of start pushing and pumping and it is very, very painful. Women: imagine your worst period cramps x20 and also giving birth all at once. The machine pulled and sucked up the blood as it was being pushed out and my body worked in overdrive to assist the process. This lasted for maybe 10 minutes, but it felt like 30. The whole time I held my hands clasped together, pressed hard into my chest and stared at a florescent light above me. Its plastic covering was painted to look like clouds. I barely remember her putting in the IUD. When the doctor turned the machine off, everything happened fast. They sat me up, placed a pad between my legs and scooted me into a wheelchair. I involuntarily started crying, but I wasn't sad. I think I was happy, relieved.

I was wheeled to a recovery room and placed in a big comfy chair, pad between my legs and hot compress on my uterus to help with the pain. I was exhausted, but also very concerned with accidentally bleeding through my gown and kept drunkenly patting myself to make sure I wasn't. The doctor put a hand on my shoulder and said “We have to do an ultrasound to make sure we got everything.”

In another room, a nurse pressed the plastic ultrasound probe through the cold gel onto my skin. My uterus felt like a used punching bag. They missed part of the sac and I was told they had to go back in to remove the rest, it would be dangerous to leave it. Once again, I was back in the small white room looking up at the fake painted clouds. Another nurse was in the room this time using the ultrasound while the doctor performed my second abortion so that she could clearly see the remaining sac. When she asked how I was doing, I almost laughed. The nurse smiled and held my hand. She told me I was so brave to do this and that I was doing well.

In less than an hour, I technically had two abortions. They also had to insert, remove, and reinsert my IUD. I was told what happened was very rare, and they usually get everything with no complications. I was also told the blood and sac were dark, meaning the blood was old and had been sitting. This could indicate different things, but most likely I would have had a miscarriage if I didn't have an abortion. After my second abortion I was back in the recovery room again, soon changing back into my clothes and eating crackers they tell you to eat before you snip your bracelet off and sign yourself out.

My roommate and I took the subway back to our apartment and within three days I felt fine with no pain or IUD side effects. A month later I got a letter from Medicaid saying I owed nothing but if I wanted to re-up on my insurance I could join and start a plan. A year later I was working in California again, feeling lucky to be alive. I called my partner and we talked about how different our worlds would have been without my abortion, without my right to choose. Now, two years later, the leader of our nation believes in punishing women who undergo this procedure.

I felt compelled to write about my experience, mostly for girls like me. I wanted to tell those girls, those women, that I did it and I am fine. I did it and I am normal and so are you. I am not ashamed, or embarrassed, nor am I guilty or regretful. I'm not saying my decision was easy, but I knew immediately what my decision would be. When I think to myself that 100 or even 50 years ago this was not an option for women, I feel sick. But the truth is, we haven’t really come that far. Look at us, at our country as a whole at the March for Life, the grab em by the pussys, the repetative rape culture. I can only understand these issues through my experiences being a woman in this country. And I fear for marginalized lives, those not as privileged as I am. I fear for those who are people of color, non-white passing, non-cisgendered, for anyone in the LGBTQ community, for anyone of Islamic faith, and for any woman whose rights will be taken away or compromised.

I had my abortion legally, safely, through Planned Parenthood. I now have an effective form of birth control for the next eight years. Both my abortion and birth control were covered under a health program created to give affordable healthcare to Americans that need it. Planned Parenthood offers healthcare and services to both men and women. They provide STI and STD testing as well as HIV testing. Planned Parenthood helped me—they are there to help. To remove funding for services and centers, to create laws that ban certain procedures, and to shut down care centers nationwide is to tell all women in this country that their reproductive rights and health care is not important. It tells women that you do not support them and will actively regress and erase years of an uphill battle that they alone have climbed. What is most hurtful, most frustrating, is that the people who need to read this message will not take the time to. But to those who have, thank you. I hope we can change things, I hope we don't have to end up always fixing them, again, forever.

Sydney Gayle Amanuel is a Salem-based artist. Check out her amazing work here: http://sydneygayle.com

[yaksokhaeyo]

Lucky

Request: there was none lol i just wanted to write a chanyeol fluff fluffy scenario when chanyeol’s s/o is on her period and he helps out however he can :))

admin k: this may or may not have been inspired by real life struggles :’)

genre: fluff

word count: 2427

pairing: chanyeol x reader

“Jagiya? Are you in here?”

Chanyeol walked into his girlfriend’s apartment one Friday morning to find himself enveloped by complete silence.

“Huh.” Shutting the door behind him and putting his key back in his pocket, Chanyeol found his way to her bedroom. Standing in front of the closed door, Chanyeol lightly rapped his knuckles against it and softly called out, “Jagiya?”

There wasn't even a groan of acknowledgement, which made the Park frown in concern.

“[Name], I'm coming in.” Without another word, Chanyeol slowly pushed the door open, inviting himself into his girlfriend's personal sanctuary. The room was still completely dark, due to the fact that [Name]'s heavy black curtains kept out 95% of the sunshine. Said woman was nothing more than a curled up ball of blankets and pillows, lying in the center of her bed with a pained expression on her face.

“[Name]? What's wrong?” Seeing [Name]'s contorted face, fetal position, and hearing her small moans, Chanyeol couldn't help but worry himself as he sat next to her, brushing her hair out of her shut eyes. He was answered by a stirring, and [Name] opened her eyes just a little bit to look up at her boyfriend.

“Chanyeol,” she said softly, bringing her hands up to her face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came over to check up on you. You told me you were feeling shit yesterday, how are you feeling now?”

“Even worse.” [Name] struggled to sit up, but each movement she made was accompanied by a groan of pain and extra, sudden jerky movements, which resulted in Chanyeol having to steady her with his own hands.

“Are you okay?” he asked seriously, looking over her to see what was wrong. She waved him away with a shake of her head, insisting that it was nothing.

“It's just my period… I'll be fine soon,” said [Name] weakly, feeling both tired and grotty.

“Your period has you looking this bad?!” said Chanyeol in an incredulous voice. “Are you serious?!”

“Chanyeol, please,” said [Name] weakly. “It's not a joke. I've told you I have back pains when it comes to this time.”

“How does your period relate to your back, though?” asked Chanyeol, intrigued at [Name]'s state. The [Surname] sighed and made to lie down again, shaking her head at the Park.

“It just does, okay? I don't know why you're hanging around in here, either. Isn't the smell getting to you?”

Curious, Chanyeol sniffed the air, wondering what kind if odour [Name] was referring to.

“No, I don't smell anything. But you don't look okay… is there anything I can do for you?”

[Name], who had closed her eyes to try and find some sleep after a restless night, sighed in defeat. She wasn't going to be getting any sleep with Chanyeol around.

“I'm all sweaty and gross. Can you help me up?”

“How bad is your back that you can't even get up on your own?” asked Chanyeol, standing up and getting ready to help the ailing woman out.

“Super bad.” [Name] sat up, groaning every second, and flung herself into Chanyeol’s awaiting arms to get a grip before she could maneuver her legs off of the bed.

“Ah, really,” said Chanyeol disapprovingly, clucking his tongue as he helped [Name] slowly get to her feet. “I feel like I'm helping my grandma up!”

“Stop,” pleaded [Name], who was past the point of angry in her period. Now, she was just tired, and all she wanted to do was shower, sit down, and put her feet up. Work for the last few days had been killer: not only had it been super busy, but she had also had to do overtime on top of having the worst period cramps she'd ever experienced in her life.

Chanyeol, seeing the genuine suffering in [Name]'s eyes, dropped his joking and began to be more attentive to her as she stood on her own.

“My feet are so sore,” she grumbled, putting one hand on her back as she began to walk away from Chanyeol. “Everything hurts.”

As she walked away, Chanyeol caught sight of the back of her pyjama pants, which was stained a dark red, almost brown colour, remnants of last night's blood flow. Out of curiosity, the Park glanced over at her bed as well, and saw a similar sight on her bedsheets.

Wow, do girls really lose that much blood?

“[Name]-yah, is there anything you need?” Chanyeol called to [Name] as she made her way to the shower, still straggling along.

Wordlessly, [Name] waved a hand at him over her shoulder as she reached the bathroom, stepping in and shutting the door behind herself.

“Don't lock the door!” Chanyeol hurried to the bathroom and knocked on the door quickly, prompting [Name] to unlock it and stick her head out.

“Why?”

“Just in case you need something,” said Chanyeol, giving [Name] the thumbs up. “Just call me if you need anything. Okay?”

“Dont worry. I will.”

***

The rest of the day was spent with [Name] and Chanyeol on the couch, talking as the former had her laptop on her arm rest and shared her attention between her boyfriend and her screen, with Chanyeol occasionally consoling her when her uterus decided to play up.

Soon, it was dusk, and [Name] looked at Chanyeol to see if he would start to head out soon. But the Park, who had made himself comfortable watching TV with his head on [Name]’s lap, didn’t look like he was going anywhere anytime soon.

“What time will you be going home?” asked [Name] casually, knowing that Chanyeol’s curfew was non-existent. After all, since he lived by himself as well, he had no one to answer to for his disappearance.

Chanyeol looked up at his girlfriend, blinking slowly.

“I am home,” he said blankly, making [Name] laugh.

“Ah, that again? Your clothes are in the bottom drawer in my room,” chuckled the [Surname], shaking her head as she refocused on her laptop. “Grab a towel from the hallway and you can get changed in there after you wash up.”

“Are you implying that I smell?”

“No, of course not,” snorted [Name], waving away Chanyeol’s accusations as he sat up and glared at her playfully, arms crossed. “I’m only telling you in case you want to shower. The more you know, right? God knows how many times you’ve left your clothes here. Your toothbrush is still in the bathroom as well.”

“Ah, I love leaving my stuff here,” said Chanyeol with a loud sigh, lying back down on [Name]’s lap with his arms behind his head.

“Argh, Chanyeol-” [Name] closed her laptop and put it aside as the lanky male’s arms threatened to knock it off the couch, and slapped her palms against his cheeks.

“You know your apartment is my home away from home, right?” said Chanyeol with a bright smile, outstretching his arms with a loud yawn. “It’s my getaway from everything. I love it here.”

“I’m glad you do,” chuckled [Name], wincing as another pain struck her. “We’ve done nothing all day and now we have nothing for dinner. What do you want to eat? I’ll make us something.”

“I refuse to let you,” said Chanyeol looking up at [Name] and wagging a finger in her face. “I also refuse to make something. But I’m willing to pay for something to be delivered. McDonald’s?”

“Why not,” chortled [Name], smacking Chanyeol to get off so she could stand up. “Mind you, I’m feeling very hungry, so are you sure you want to pay for it?”

Chanyeol shot [Name] a looked that equalled, “Really?”

Unfazed by Chanyeol’s offer, [Name] said, “I’ll pay for the delivery, you pay for the food. How does that sound?”

With a sigh, Chanyeol said, “Whatever makes you feel better.”

“You can order the food now, I’m going for a shower.” [Name] flinched as she lifted Chanyeol off of her legs and made to stand up, holding onto the armrest for support. Chanyeol grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet, frowning as she stood up and stretched with a loud yawn.

“Doing nothing all day really tires you out,” she said, twisting around to try and mobilise her stiff back. “Ahh, ouch. Fuck.”

She began to hobble towards the bathroom as Chanyeol pulled out his phone, ready to order lots of food just for her.

“Okay, let’s see what we can eat… I don’t know how hungry she is so I’ll just buy her a bunch of burgers and curly fries… some nuggets… oh, yeah, she’d like some chicken wings as well, some churros… and ice cream…”

Adding half of the available menu to his order, by the time Chanyeol was done selecting food for himself and [Name] to enjoy, the amount it cost him was laughable.

“Half an hour,” said the Park to himself, reading his receipt of confirmation. “Half an hour.”

Swinging his legs off of the couch, Chanyeol made his way to the bathroom, where [Name] had left the door ajar.

As he walked past, he heard a whimper from the shower, and ducked his head through the door almost immediately.

“[Name], are you okay?” he called out, looking towards the shower, seeing [Name]'s silhouette behind the drawn white curtain. She appeared to be clutching onto the wall for support, with one hand tightly gripped onto her lower back.

“Yeah, I'm okay,” called out the [Surname] weakly. However, when she didn't move after that, Chanyeol walked into the bathroom and over to the shower, cautious of [Name]'s condition.

“[Name], are you sure?”

[Name] let out a groan and threw her head back, making Chanyeol flinch. He watched as her hand slithered up the wall to the faucet and switched off the water, before bringing it back down to support herself standing.

“Can you do me a favour?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Can you please bring me my towel?”

“Yeah, of course. Here.” In one fluid motion, Chanyeol grabbed [Name]'s towel from the rack and handed it to her behind the curtain, waiting for her to take it from him. Slowly but eventually, [Name] managed to take the towel from her boyfriend, and it was then that she faced her next challenge: actually putting it on.

“Fuck,” whispered the [Surname] under her breath as she fumbled with the towel, still holding onto the wall with one hand. She struggled for a few minutes, unable to put the towel behind her. Frustration getting the best of her, [Name] leapt in surprise when she felt Chanyeol’s hand pulling her towel around her, and looked around at him.

“Chan- what the hell are you doing?”

[Name]'s frustrations evaporated as she burst into laughter at the sight of Chanyeol with his hoodie drawn across his face, covering his eyes so that he didn't have to see [Name]'s bare body. He carefully moved his hands around her body, avoiding touching anywhere she wouldn't want him, and succeeded in tying the towel around her front.

“Are you fully covered?” he asked seriously, hands on [Name]'s shoulders as he waited for permission to remove his hood.

“Oh my god, you're such a dork,” giggled [Name], turning around and untying the strings that held his hoodie together. “You're acting as if you've never seen me naked before.”

Chanyeol blinked as [Name] removed his hood, and smiled at her.

“I had your permission those times,” was his reply. “I didn't know whether or not you'd want me to see you in the shower, so I decided to play it safe.”

[Name] smiled as she held onto the Park for support, and beckoned for him to lean down so that she could kiss him tenderly.

“I love you,” she said breathlessly, wrapping her arms around Chanyeol's waist. Not caring that she was soaking wet, Chanyeol accepted her hug and kissed the top of her head, holding her close.

“I love you too, [Name],” he said as she removed herself from him. “Come on, I'll help you to the room.”

[Name] nodded as Chanyeol put an arm around her waist and began to guide her towards her bedroom, coming alive with chatter again.

“You wouldn't have minded if I had just come behind the curtain and seen you naked like that?”

“Hmm, if you had asked then I guess I wouldn't have. You could've just done that instead of covering your eyes and feeling around blindly.”

“I thought about that, but you would've rejected my help and stayed stuck in there for ten more minutes.”

“You know me so well. I'm glad you did that, Yeol. Thanks.”

“Anything for you, [Name].”

The doorbell rang, and Chanyeol's head popped up in excitement.

“I'll transfer you delivery money during dinner,” called out [Name] as the Park excitedly headed for the door.

“I don't want it!” he called over his shoulder as he opened the door and greeted the delivery man. “Hi!”

“Delivery for Miss [Surname] [Name]?”

“Yeah, she's just in the room. I'll take the food for her.”

“What did you get?” called out [Name] as Chanyeol took the bags of food from the delivery, bowing to him in thanks.

“Everything!” he called cheerfully, backing away from the door and shutting it behind him. Walking over to the dining table, Chanyeol lay all the food out for him and [Name], leaving most of it on her side.

Minutes later, the [Surname] emerged from the hallway and into the living room/kitchen, and gasped at the sight of all the food on the table.

“Are you seriously going to eat all this?!” she exclaimed, sitting across from the Park. He grinned and shook his head, pushing most of it towards her.

“No. You are,” he said with a bright smile, grabbing a burger and beginning to eat. “I put dessert in the fridge for later. If you get hungry tonight, just let me know and I'll go down to the store for you.”

[Name] simpered at her boyfriend's words, and leaned across the table. Pushing his burger away, [Name] planted her lips on Chanyeol's, enveloping him in a deep, passionate kiss.

“Do you know how much I love you right now?” she said gratefully, pinching the Park's cheeks. “Thank you, Channy. I love you so much.”

Chanyeol flushed and smiled, his cheeks going bright red.

“It's nothing,” he insisted as [Name] sat back down. “Enjoy your meal!”

[Name]'s heart fluttered as she watched Chanyeol devour his food, thinking:

I'm so lucky to have you.

[aprofessorbhaer]

Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji Part 9

trigger warnings: period-typical transphobia, blood, menstruation, menstrual cramps, negative self-image, shame, disobedience, anxiety, crying, period-typical sexism, blushing, Christianity, violence, death

Word Count: 2439

Part Nine: Blood

It had been a few weeks since Mary had left, and Robert had come to stay. And I woke up to blood on my sheets. I groaned, and ducked under the covers, though all that accomplished was trapping the metallic smell. Sighing, I sat up after a few seconds of wallowing, and thought. How would I camouflage this uniquely ‘womanly’ experience from others?

I scanned the room, and my eyes fell on some cloth folded on the bureau. Curious, I got up to investigate. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that they were rags. On top of the pile sat a note that simply read in elegant writing ‘To Mary’.

Could Sebastian have left these for me, knowing what would be happening today? I blushed at the thought of the butler being aware of my monthly cycle. I shook myself, and stripped the sheets from the bed so that I could wash the blood out. Considering the amount, and the fact that cramps were beginning to manifest themselves, I must have started soon after I fell asleep.

I quickly dressed for the day, taking care to stuff my pants so that I’d have some protection but no untoward bulges not found in other men’s trousers. I gathered the pile of sheets up and quickly made my way to the washing room. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see the master’s tutor with blood-soiled sheets.

The next few hours passed in much the same way as previous days: I ate breakfast, then helped with chores until the master called for me. As the day matured, my cramps grew worse, though not unbearable, and I found it was more difficult to go about my business with good humor. Once the lesson began for the day, I was able to lose myself in the material, to an extent.

When we were finished, I took a platter left from when Sebastian had served the master back to the kitchen. It was very reflective-- no doubt from Sebastian’s polishing-- so I avoided looking at it for too long. After checking that my…linens had not been soaked through, and changing them, I proceeded to undertake chopping wood. Sebastian was busy, and I didn’t want to leave the task to any of the others.

When I was halfway through the pile of logs, I heard behind me “Robert, the master wishes to see you in his study.” I turned around to see Sebastian gesturing for me to follow back into the house. I obliged. When I got to the study, Sebastian entered with me to stand beside the Earl. I approached the desk, and bowed, saying “You called for me, my lord?”

The master regarded me, then said “Yes. I want you to look into this mirror.” He indicated a hand mirror lying on his desk. A ball of nerves joined the discomfort in my stomach, but I complied.

“Of course, my lord.” I picked up the mirror, glanced at my reflection, then replaced it on the desk.

The master scowled. “That was not long enough. Look into the mirror until I tell you to stop.”

I began to tremble. I whispered “Yes, my lord.” Hands shaking, I retrieved the mirror, and gazed into it. After a few seconds, however, I had to put it back down.

“I did not tell you to stop, Robert. Are you disobeying a direct order?”

I looked down in shame. “Y-yes, my lord.”

I could hear disdain in his voice as he replied “Very well. I have no use for a disobedient servant. You are released from my employ, Reilly. Take your things and leave as soon as possible.”

I bowed. “Yes, my lord.” I paused. “May I…finish my previous task first, my lord?”

The Earl looked as if a dog just performed a trick he hadn’t known know it had been taught. “Very well. But do so quickly.”

“Thank you, my lord.” With that, I left the room, retreating to the wood pile. Taking up the ax, I began swinging in earnest, more vigorous than I had been previously. With the sky getting dark and everyone else inside, I turned my back to the windows and indulged in tears. They streamed down my face as I sobbed, trying to maintain quiet but unsure as to my success.

“Why?”

With the ax poised over my head, I froze, then brought it down. Turning around, I saw Sebastian, looking at me curiously. “Sir?”

“Why did you refuse to gaze into the mirror for long? Surely this is not about your looks?”

I turned back to my task, hiding my face. “No, indeed, sir. It is of little consequence, really.”

On my next swing, I found my hands oddly empty when I brought my arms down. Spinning, I saw Sebastian holding the ax. “I want to know why you disobeyed the master.”

I slumped, not possessing enough energy to confront him. “Sir, I believe you’re aware of my current state of mind and body. I’m sure my behavior could be written off as hysteria, and leave it at that.”

Suddenly, he was much closer. “I’m not interested in your excuses, Reilly. I asked you a question, and I don’t intend to repeat myself. Has one act of disobedience spawned another?”

I blushed at his accusation. “My apologies, sir. The reason I could not look at the mirror…was because I saw Robert looking back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must gather my things.”

I walked past him, rather surprised that he let me pass unhindered. Once I was in his room, I began gathering my suitcases, counting it lucky that I had never really unpacked. I looked around the room for anything of mine lying about when I heard the lock click. Turning to the door, I saw Sebastian. Again.

“Sir, I—“

“We are alone now, and may speak freely.” His eyes burned into me. “So speak.”

I swallowed. But I didn’t really have anything left to lose. “I avoid mirrors because I see my brother. My real brother, who died when I was born, whom I never knew. Whom I played for my father, and swore when I left his house that I never would again. I see an imposter, who uses that name, and the place in life he should have had, to please a master she has known not very long at all, and who clearly does not think very highly of his new servant. That’s what I saw when I looked in that mirror.”

I looked down, gathering my courage. “Now, please sir, I beg you, let me pass.”

I looked up to see that Sebastian had not moved, but was regarding me thoughtfully. “Why do you believe the master has a low regard for you?”

I shook my head, confused as to why he would focus on that part of my confession. “From the beginning…I could not satisfy him, with my answers or my actions.”

Sebastian’s mouth twitched in possible amusement. “From the beginning, you were a puzzle, my dear. The master couldn’t predict what you would do or say next. Which may have aggravated him, but more so fascinated him. Engrossed him. He has been trying to figure you out, yet you have managed to surprise him even when he thought he had the upper hand.”

My eyes widened in further confusion. “I do not see what is so extraordinary.”

Sebastian smirked. “At our first meeting, that the master recalls, you refused to follow his orders. Even though you knew he could have his way regardless, you stood your ground.”

I blushed. “I have always been a stubborn, foolish girl.”

“Principled. Brave. And when pressed, you cited loyalty to your mistress. Obedience, even to the dead? That was fascinating. What kind of relationship actually existed between yourself and Madame Red?”

My body flushed with heat. “As a crossdressing woman, it can only be guessed at.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “Not what I was implying, my dear.” He paused. “Then, despite your loyalty, you were easily persuaded to join a new household, and have shown the same level of loyalty as before.”

“Perhaps my loyalty is not as dear as you seem to think. Sir.”

Sebastian smirked. “And then your humility. Always fulfilling your duties to your best ability, quietly. Taking no credit. And why should you, when you’re only doing your job?” His face smoothed into seriousness. “But that’s not true. You’re unfailing polite, even when unnecessary. You don’t question or argue unless you believe the morality of an order is dubious. And you are kind. You don’t impart much information regarding your life in the past, yet one can gather that it was not easy. It was, in fact, very trying. And yet, you don’t begrudge, not at all. Not the parents who unreasonably fired you from a comfortable situation, not the master who lost your employment to his own personal game of chess, not even the world at large for all it has done to you. Tell me, how would one not think of you as a mystery?”

I floundered, unsure how to respond to any of that. I eventually settled on “I only do what I can with what I’ve been given, sir. No one may be asked more or less than that, I think. And the world owes me no more than anyone else. Especially my master, whom I’ve heard has had his own share of grief and pain.”

Sebastian looked amused. “Even now, when your employment is terminated, I am still ‘sir’ to you?”

I blushed. “You will always be ‘sir’ to me, sir.”

“Indeed? You still maintain the trappings of a servant girl? Yet you weren’t always a servant, were you? You couldn’t have been. But your manner is very resolute in that respect. Why is that? Just one more of the questions that surround you, my dear.”

“Though I have not always been employed as such, I have always been a servant, sir. We are all called to serve in whatever way we can.”

Sebastian smiled. “Which brings us to your faith. You rarely mention it directly, yet it seems to inform everything you do. You are a devout Christian, despite or maybe because of your difficult life. You take comfort in it, yes?”

I looked at my shoes, unused to such extended scrutiny. “Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Tell me, Mary: do you believe in demons?”

I tilted my head. What an odd question. “Yes, sir.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that?”

I furrowed my brow. “Well…I believe in the good: Heaven, angels. It follows that I believe in the bad, as well.”

He smiled tightly. “Quite. That is an…intriguing stance to take. Very…reasonable.”

I sighed. “Yes, I know. I’m unpredictable. Wonderful.”

Sebastian’s smile became amused. “I apologize if you dislike such characterization, Miss Reilly.”

I took a deep breath to steady myself. There had been enough delay. “Sir, I must be leaving. If you’ll excuse me.” I bowed and made for the door. Once I had it open, Sebastian suddenly took my hand and began leading me. I assumed he was taking me to the front door, so I let him. However, we stopped at the study door. I opened my mouth to protest, but we were suddenly inside. Sebastian stood before the desk, still holding my hand, and addressed the master.

“My lord, I believe it would be best to keep Reilly on for further use.”

“Luckily, my actions are not based on your beliefs, Sebastian. My word is final. Reilly, did you put him up to this?”

I bowed. “No, my lord.”

“So you are not at all interested in keeping your job?”

“As you say, it is up to you, my lord. I failed in my duty to follow your orders, and must bear the consequences.”

“So accommodating. Except when you aren’t. How frustrating.”

“I was on my way out, my lord, so if sir would kindly let me go—“

“She believes in demons, my lord.”

For the first time during the exchange, the master looked up. “Is that so? How nice.” He paused, looking at Sebastian. “What are you trying to imply, Sebastian?”

“I imply nothing, my lord. But given her nearly flawless obedience, keeping her close seems prudent.”

“Flawless, except for when her master demands it. This is the second time she’s disobeyed me, Sebastian. You yourself said that you detected nothing supernatural about her, despite her avoidance of mirrors, which I’ve deduced was simple human weakness. She is of no further use to me.”

I looked between the two men, totally lost at sea. Supernatural? Me? Why would they consider that a possibility? The master caught my look of astonishment, and sighed in exasperation. “Well, now that she’s suspicious, you must kill her, Sebastian. Well done. I had hoped this termination would be less messy than previous.”

My eyes widened. “I don’t know what I am meant to be suspicious of, my lord.”

He looked at me. “That’s possibly true. But it would be simply careless to release you now that you know there is something to suspect.” He looked at his butler. “Go on. I ordered you to do something.”

Sebastian bowed to him. “Yes, my lord.” He turned and started advancing on me. I backed up to the middle of the room, but then realized it was pointless. I don’t know why, but I felt that trying to escape Sebastian was not going to work. He was so adept, after all. Just like Madame had said. I looked him in the eye as he came close, his face calm and smooth. When we were nearly chest to chest, he bent down and murmured for only me to hear “I’m sorry, my dear.”

I nodded and swallowed. “Yes. I understand. You…wanted me to stay. Thank you, Sebastian.” His eyes widened at my use of his given name to his face, something I had never done before. Deciding that I was dying anyway, so I might as well, I brought up a shaky hand to cup one of his cheeks. “Don’t worry. I will be seeing my family again. You were so kind to me, Sebastian.” I smiled, then closed my eyes. I didn’t think it would be pleasant for him to see my life fading from them. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then felt a razor sharp pain go straight through my heart. I felt my eyes fly open reflexively, but my sight was already gone. The last sensations I felt were arms holding me up and warm liquid spreading throughout my chest.

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