#ignore the six hour difference between this and my last post

[cosmicbrowni3s]

1/7 …

exam #2 study speed run !!!

0/7 sections completed

[coffee-in-rain]

Vulnerable Hannibal Fic Rec List

Updated 10/30/2024 with seven new additions located at the bottom of the page. A few of these fics are mine, but the rest are some of my favorite fics I've ever read that feature vulnerable Hannibal in various seasons, AUs, and post-canon.

The Ache Against The Wind (Rewritten):

He’d sustained a substantial amount of brain damage throughout the last eleven days, Will had been told. Resulting in Post-Traumatic Amnesia.

Content Warning: Hannibal is tortured in the BSHCI via beatings, laxatives, enemas, starvation and the “water curing” method after his toilet is removed. Will saves him.

Pareidolia:

Six weeks post-fall, Hannibal suffers from a seizure during dinner.

Je Te Laisserai Des Mots:

Six months have passed since Will pulled them over the cliff. Even in light of their progressing relationship, much of Hannibal still remains a mystery to Will. For reasons unknown, he’s begun to pull away. (A sequel to Shrike--my housewife Hannibal fic!)

Between The Hour Of Reprieve:

At the cliff house, Hannibal receives a much-needed-hug.

Shrike (To Your Sharp And Glorious Thorn):

After the fall, Will begins to notice Hannibal’s behavior is becoming akin to a fretting housewife.

A Cabin In The Woods by KoolJack1:

Hannibal is thirteen and runs away from the orphanage when he feels that a fate of the elements will be better than the fate of abuse. He finds a small cabin in the woods, thinking warmth will be all he finds. He also finds Will. But who changes who?

Recipricol Alchemy by Scifibabe:

In the silent echoes of his dreams, Will Graham treads a line blurred between control and chaos, each step drawing him inexorably towards claiming Hannibal as his own. It's a perilous dance on the edge of darkness, where the thrill of possession whispers of a transformation too profound to resist.

Hold Me, Don’t Let Me Go by sourweather:

It's a few months after the Fall when it finally hits him. Hannibal has barely been touched in 3 years. And Will won't let it go on for another moment.

Hosanna In The Highest by sainthannibal:

During the fall, Hannibal receives the brunt of the injuries, which leaves him unable to care for himself. Will discovers how much he enjoys taking care of him.

You Made Me Soup by itsybitsylemonsqueezy:

Hannibal comes down with pneumonia while incarcerated. Will decides to make him some soup. Absolutely no one thinks it's strange that Will comes to give his ex soup when he finds out he's sick. No one at all finds this suspicious. At. All.

The Boy Under The Monster’s Bed by Wr4tttttthh:

There were deep wounds that needed healing, new and old, physical and otherwise.

Delicate Ghost by hannigramcracker & TimmyJayBird:

She was different- not the ghost of his memories, but something about this bloodied child ripped right at Hannibal's chest, and left him drowning in a cold snow he thought he had left in his childhood, that he had locked away within his skull. Drowning, with only one hand to grasp at, one body to cling to. One man to work him through the trauma and remind him what life was.

You With Those Nails, Me With This Cross by TheBitterKitten:

Will goes too far.

The Distance Is Quite Simply Much Too Far For Me To Row by softhan:

Hannibal is having a rough time recovering from his injuries post-fall, and retreats into himself to avoid confrontation with Will while he's still weak and ill. Having to play happy husbands hardly helps.

Silk and Lace by jonnimir:

Bedelia leaves Hannibal and Will a gift at the house on the cliff.

Not So Fast by scifibabe:

Hannibal wakes from a heated dream with a need that can’t be ignored—and Will, half-asleep but all too eager, is more than happy to help. What begins as a midnight indulgence quickly spirals into an overwhelming game of push and pull, as Will’s relentless appetite pushes Hannibal to the edge and beyond. Kinktober Day 10: Overstimulation + Face-Sitting

Hush Now by scifibabe:

What starts as Will stitching up Hannibal's latest hunting injury turns into something else entirely when a teasing "let Daddy take care of you" slips out. It's meant to be a joke--until Hannibal's reaction tells a different story. One playful push leads to another, and soon enough, they're both realizing they might be into this a little more than they expected. Kinktober Day 19: Fisting.

I truly cannot recommend Hush Now enough! It'll live rent free in my mind and heart for the rest of my life ♡

The Antidote To Grief by incidentsofunkownorigins:

On Will's idea, they visit Mischa's grave. What Will had hoped to be a healing moment of closure breaks something in Hannibal and he is the only one who can put the pieces back together.

btw i haven't finished this one by incidentsofunkownorigins yet. but i know it's gonna make me wail and sniffle into my sleeve. the cry i fucking crowed in the 3rd paragraph 😭

Pulse Point:

Post-Fall, an injured Hannibal awakes from an erotic dream, desperate and needy, aching for Will's touch.

Marveling at a Spoon by scifibabe:

After a gourmet dinner, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter decide to indulge in something a little more... pedestrian—a joint. As the smoke settles and their usual control begins to loosen, Hannibal finds himself experiencing a sensation he never expected: a heightened sensitivity that unravels him under Will’s teasing touch. What starts as a curious experiment in relaxation quickly turns into a surprising discovery, one that leaves even the meticulous Hannibal completely undone. Will is all too eager to take advantage of his newfound knowledge, and Hannibal, for once, is too overwhelmed to resist.

We Are Now Among The Ruins by ADeedWithoutAName:

Hannibal survived the fall, but not unchanged. He intends to give Will the only gift he now can, and Will intends to honor him in the only way that matters.

Something Sacred by scifibabe:

In the quiet aftermath of their survival, silence has taken hold. Hannibal hasn't spoken since the night they washed ashore, his voice swallowed by their shared trauma. Will, haunted by the absence of words and the weight of unspoken things, has learned to reach Hannibal through touch, through the quiet rituals of care. When the strain of Hannibal’s pain becomes too much to hide, Will draws a bath—an unspoken offer of comfort. But today is different. Today, beneath the surface of familiar rituals, something stirs. As the warmth of the water surrounds them, walls begin to crack, and a fragile trust, once guarded so fiercely, blooms into something more intimate and vulnerable than either of them anticipated. In the quiet steam of the bath, two men find solace in each other’s arms, where tenderness can no longer be ignored.

A Pinch Of Salt In The Wound:

Renderered mute and bedbound post-fall, Hannibal begins to spiral.

Crystalline:

Hannibal becomes severely injured post-episode 3x13.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Not Dead Yet | Part 02

-> Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Medium-Fem!Reader

-> Synopsis: After trying to avoid Jeonghan (and the other ghosts) Y/N encounters him on the stairwell and is unable to ignore him anymore.

-> Warnings: Paranormal au. Hints at a possible evil spirit lurking about. Sick child in hospital but doesn't mention the illness, hints at her having been in hospital for a while. Y/N almost cusses a couple times. Hints at Y/N and Jihoon fake dating. This is a work of fiction. In no way does it reflect the guys.

-> Word Count: 2,616

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Not Dead Yet Masterlist | SEVENTEEN M.List

As Y/N walks along the footpath leading to the hospital, she digs through her bag, looking for something she promised one of the kids she visits. When she can't find it, she starts to cuss but stops herself when an elderly lady glares at her as she passes by. She bows in apology before continuing her search. 

Just a moment later, Y/N feels a sudden chill run down her spine and turns back to see the woman has completely vanished and is nowhere to be found. 

Frustrated, she scans the area, mentally scolding herself for revealing her ability to see ghosts to the old woman. “You would think I would know the difference between the living and dead by now,” she mutters under her breath, ensuring that only her brother on the other end of the call can hear her. 

“You chose to volunteer at the hospital,” Seungcheol, chimes in. “You’re surrounded by both the living and the dead there.” 

“I’m surrounded by the living and the dead everywhere I go,” she replies, rolling her eyes at his comment. But then, she suddenly exclaims, “Aha!” as she finally finds what she was looking for. It’s a small ballerina doll that used to be hers. She believes it deserves a new home with the little girl she’s befriended through her volunteer work. The little girl loves ballet more than she ever did. “I need to go. Tell Eomma I’ll be there tonight, but if she tries to set me up with one of her friend’s sons again, I’m going to leave and-,” she pauses, an idea coming to her. “Actually, I should bring Jihoon. That might keep her off my back for a while.”  

“You brought Jihoon a few months ago,” he reminds her. “Are you going to tell eomma that you’re fake back together?”  

“Shi-Yah!” she exclaims, stopping herself from cussing again as the elderly woman from a minute ago suddenly reappears in front of her. “I’ll find someone else to bring,” she quickly says, ending the call before he can respond. She frowns at the lady, taking out her earbuds and placing them back in her bag. The elderly woman says nothing as Y/N moves past her to go inside the hospital. Making her way up to the children’s ward, she keeps her head bowed so she doesn’t make eye contact with any more spirits. 

“Jeon Nari, I have a surprise for you,” Y/N calls out as she enters the room where the six-year-old girl is sitting on the hospital bed, colouring in her princess colouring book. She notices that the young girl’s father is with her and greets him politely with a slight bow of her head.  

Jeon Wonwoo, Nari's father, looks up from his phone and stands to return her greeting. “It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says, his voice reflecting the worry and exhaustion of a parent who has spent long hours in the hospital with his sick child. “Nari’s been talking about you non-stop since your last visit,” he adds. “She was so excited to learn that you used to do ballet.”  

Y/N smiles, her heart warming at the thought of Nari's excitement. It confirmed that she’s making the right choice in passing her once beloved doll down to the sweet little girl. “Well, speaking of ballet,” she says, pulling the ballerina doll with a pink tutu from behind her back and holding it out towards her. “I thought you might like this.” 

Nari’s eyes widen in excitement, her colouring book momentarily forgotten as Y/N passes the doll to her. “Wow! She’s so pretty!” Nari exclaims as a large smile makes its way onto her face. 

“Will you promise to take good care of her for me?” Y/N asks, her smile mirroring Nari's as she sits down across from her, her heart swelling with affection for the little girl. However, her smile dims as an unsettling chill fills the room. She senses a presence lingering in the doorway, and for a brief moment, it feels as if time has frozen. 

The atmosphere shifts, the warmth of the moment dissipating as Y/N's gaze drifts toward the entrance. A figure stands there, half-hidden in the shadow. The air grows thick with an unspoken tension, and Y/N's heart races as she tries to decipher the emotions swirling around her. 

“Y/N?” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through the silence, bringing her back to reality. He gazes at her with worry. “Are you okay?”  

She manages a smile, though it doesn’t fully reach her eyes, and nods. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay for long today,” she says, causing Nari to pout. Unbeknownst to Y/N, her visits have become one of Nari’s favourite parts about being in the hospital. “Since it's my day off from work tomorrow, I’ll be here much earlier than usual. You’ll be the first person I’ll come and see.”  

"You promise?" Nari asks, her expression a mix of hope and excitement as she holds up her tiny pinkie finger. 

"I promise," Y/N replies with a smile, linking her pinkie with Nari's and pressing their thumbs together, sealing their promise. The gesture brings a comforting warmth back into the room, yet an unsettling feeling still lingers in the air. Looking towards the doorway, she sees that the figure is no longer there. Trying to shake off the feeling, she turns her attention back on Nari. “I should get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?” 

After saying her goodbyes, she exits the room, the unsettling feeling following her as she walks down the corridor and exits the children's ward. The air around her starts to feel almost suffocating so she chooses to take the stairs instead of the confined unescapable space of the elevator. As she descends the stairwell, the unease turns into feeling of being followed, the presence heavy, dark and ominous. Half expecting to find the figure from the doorway, she looks behind her only to find no one there, living or dead. With her heart pounding against her chest and her footsteps echoing in her ears, she quickens her pace and reaches the next landing. There she stops for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself, her eyes never leave the stairs she just descended, wary of any spirit that might choose to show itself. 

After a brief moment, she braves herself and turns to continue her walk down the stairs, but just as she does, a sudden fright nearly sends her tumbling backward. A scream escapes her lips as another presence makes itself known, breaking the suffocating ominous feeling in an instant.  

"I knew you could see me!" he exclaims, his voice echoing off the walls. His eyes gleam with a wild intensity, a mixture of mischief and something deeper. "You can't pretend anymore." 

“What is with you ghosts sneaking up on me today,” she groans with a frown on her face.  

“I’m not a ghost,” the man insists. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you are a ghost,” she informs him, her voice tinged with exasperation. “That is why I can see you while no one else can.”  

“But I’m not dead,” he counters, frustration clear in his voice. 

“Yes, you are,” she replies, her gaze flicking nervously to the door off to the side, hoping no one decides to walk into the stairwell at that moment. 

“I’m not!” he argues, reaching for her wrist, only for his hand to pass right through her. He tries again, with the same result.  

Each time he does it, it sends a chill through Y/N’s body. “Would you stop?” she scolds him moving her wrist away. 

“I’m trying to show you that I’m not dead,” he growls as the fluorescent lights above them begin to flicker, his frustration and anger boiling over. He’d spent the week trying to get her attention, unable to communicate with anyone else. “Just... come with me.” His voice softens, a hint of vulnerability breaking through as he almost sounds like he’s pleading. “You have to believe me.” 

With that he turns on his heal, walking through the door. Y/N hesitates for a moment but there is something within that compels her to follow him. Her curiosity piqued; she walks closer to the door. Pushing the door open, she steps into a brightly lit corridor with an intensive care unit sign hanging from the ceiling. 

Y/N's heart races once again as she takes in the scene, her breath hitching in her throat. The ghosts are everywhere, some with solid forms, others with translucent forms flickering in and out of focus, some hover near the doors of the patients rooms, their expressions a haunting blend of hope and despair and others drift aimlessly, looking at nothing in particular.  

The distant beeping of machines and the soft murmur of voices fills her ears as she searches for the man that led her this way. She finally spots him standing before the automatic glass doors of the unit. 

Reaching into her bag, she pulls out her earbuds, sticking them into her ears and keeps her head down, avoiding eye contact with the other ghosts as she makes her way over to him. "I can't go inside," she tells him. 

"I'm right there," he says pointing to one of the cubicles at the back of the room. She can just make out the end of the bed, but she can't confirm if it’s really him. 

“If you’re not dead, how can I see you?” she asks, more to herself than him.  

"How should I know?" he replies anyway. "You see the others, right?"  

"But they’re already dead," she answers.  

"How can you be so certain?" he asks out of curiosity.  

"You think there’s someone in there in a coma from the Joseon Dynasty era?" she says, motioning towards the woman at the end of the hall, her face etched with worry. "I bet she’s here because she’s watching over someone in there. You’d be surprised how many ancestors show up to welcome their family member into the afterlife. It makes it less scary to cross over into that dimension." She pauses, her gaze drifting back to the woman, who stands with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "It’s like a welcoming committee," she continues. "They reassure them that they’re not alone and guide them over. It’s a beautiful thing, really.” 

His gaze turns to the woman, "So, you think that’s what’s happening here? That she’s just waiting for someone to join her so she can welcome them home?"

"It’s that, or she just doesn’t want her ancestor to be alone," she replies, her heart racing with the thrill of her own conviction. "It’s not just about the end of life. She could just be here watching over her entire bloodline, making sure they’re safe and healthy. It’s probably why she looks so worried.” 

“I guess you’ve been doing this a long time,” he says, turning his gaze towards her. 

“A very long time,” she sighs looking back inside the intensive care unit. “But this has never happened before. I’ve never seen or communicated with someone who’s in limbo.” 

Just as he opens his mouth to speak, someone calls out Y/N’s name. Her eyes widen as she turns, pulling her earbuds out. A blush creeps onto her cheeks as she greets the handsome man in a white coat. “Dr. Hong,” she says, bowing her head. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today” he smiles, causing Y/N’s heart to flutter and for a moment the situation she’s found herself in is a distant memory.  

“I—uh, I just dropped something off to Nari,” she stammers, feeling a little bashful. Joshua Hong, a doctor who transferred from America, seems to have that effect on anyone he comes across. There’s reason his nickname is the gentleman. He’s kind, polite and respectful to everyone, he doesn’t anger easily even in intense situations, and speaks with a soft, calming voice. He’s also incredibly handsome.  

She quickly snaps out of her little trance that she found herself in when the man who isn’t quite a ghost, loudly clears his throat from besides the doctor. Glancing at him, he doesn’t look impressed by the sudden interruption. Quickly looking back at Joshua, she continues “I-I also thought it would be a good time to stop by and see how my friend,” she looks out the corner of her eye at the man before focusing on the doctor again, “is doing.” 

“Who’s your friend?” Joshua asks, glancing down at the folders in his hands.  

“Uh-” she pauses, her eyes flickering between the doctor and the man she now realises she never got the name of. 

“Yoon Jeonghan,” he tells her. 

“Yoon Jeonghan,” she repeats and Jeonghan nods with a small triumphant smile. This is his chance to get some more answers. 

“I was handed his case this morning,” Joshua informs her. “I can’t really tell you anything but it’s a strange one. Just know that were doing everything we can to figure out what happened and why he won’t wake up.” 

“So, you don’t have anything?” she hears Jeonghan ask even though Joshua can’t hear him, the frustration from earlier resurfacing. “This is great,” he scoffs but his voice quickly turns to one of panic. “What if I’m like this forever? I can’t be like this forever.”  

“Oh,” she says, her look turning to one of sympathy when she hears the tone in Jeonghan’s voice. “Thank you for doing everything you can do,” she thanks Joshua. “Hopefully he wakes up soon.” 

“I hope so, too,” Joshua says reflecting her sympathy. “Well, I should get in there and start my rounds. It was good seeing you.” 

“You too,” she says, her heart not fluttering like it usually would when he said the last part. She watches him step inside the unit and make his way to the back of the room where Jeonghan pointed out the bed he was laying in. 

“Now you believe me,” he says and all she can do is nod. “Not even the doctors know what’s going on. What hope do I have if you don’t even know what’s going on?” he sighs, sounding defeated. “Maybe it all goes back to that weird guy. He must have done something to me. It’s the only explanation that I have.” 

“What weird guy?” she asks, now looking at him.  

“There was this weird guy that was leaning against my car, he was talking nonsense, then I passed out when I went to leave and woke up here, like this,” he explains. “He told me the person who can see me will know his name,” he adds looking at her, expectantly. 

“I don’t know anyone who would do that,” she tells him.  

“He also said something about the Gods,” he says, thinking back to the strange encounter.  

“The Gods?” she asks, surprised by his words. “If the God’s are involved, I’m not the person you’re looking for. I just see, feel and communicate with ghosts, that’s it.” 

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not exactly a ghost, am I? Yet, you can still see and talk with me.” 

“This- this is way above my pay grade,” she shakes her head, now trying to deny that this was happening. “Not that I get paid for it. I should go. I wish you luck with everything and I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”  

“You can’t leave-” Jeonghan starts as Y/N begins to walk away at a fast pace, trying her best to put distance between them.  

She steps inside the elevator, her eyes connecting with Jeonghan’s desperate ones, one last time before the doors close. 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

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[lonely-cowboy]

future of us

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: after finding a box of home videos, you're overwhelmed with thoughts of the future. only connor can ease your worries.

word count: 2k

warnings: panic attack sorta, good ol' daddy issues, a 6yo (and a however old you are)yo having an existential crisis about death, i actually don't know what this is i just felt like writing it, rushed ending

author's note: yes i was complaining about my angsty gameplay in my last post and yes i am posting angst after saying i needed more fluff to feel happy. what about it. i like the angst, it makes me feel smth.

masterlist ⟡ requests

The television flickered in the dim living room, the shadows shifting like otherworldly creatures. The heavy rain pounded against the windows combined with the quiet whistle of the winds. You would think that with such advanced technology nowadays the intense weather wouldn’t affect the power. Apparently, that hadn’t been a priority during this era of technological breakthroughs. But you didn’t mind. The flickering screen and hissing static were comforting, reminding you of the days Hank still had his old-fashioned television.

In the peaceful hours of the early morning (or late night depending on who you asked), you sat huddled on the couch with your eyes glued to the television. Wearing one of Hank’s old sweatshirts that was far too long for you, you hugged your knees tightly. 

You watched the screen as a little girl sat bashfully at the head of a long dining table, kicking her feet giddily as a birthday cake with six blazing candles was placed in front of her. She was surrounded by loved ones who looked at her fondly, singing in unison with enthusiastic, booming voices. One voice– the cameraman's– overpowered them all, his voice uncharacteristically jaunty and cheerful. As the singing reached its end and the little girl blew out her candles with a big breath (and a lot of spit), the cameraman squished himself into the frame with a wide grin.

And there was Hank Anderson. A younger, much happier Hank, but Hank nonetheless. He grinned at the camera, calling the little girl’s attention. They both smiled brightly into the camera, ignoring that it was a video and not a picture. Hank and his goddaughter. Hank and you.

You were honestly surprised when you found the box of old VHS tapes. Yes, VHS tapes. No, you weren’t that old, far from it actually. Hank was just always old-fashioned; he never had a knack for technology. So any videos from your childhood were found on VHS tapes that Hank had kept for all these years.

You found them when you were organizing his garage. The entire day, you had been cleaning around his house with Connor’s help because his drunk ass could never do it. You hoped that maybe by giving him a clean environment he might be able to clean up his act. You weren’t too sure about that, but the thought was there.

When you found the tapes, it was already well into the night. Hank had passed out hours ago, and you released Connor to recharge not long ago. That’s when you decided you were deserving of a much-needed break, dragging the hefty box of VHS tapes into the living room for your viewing pleasure.

Only you hadn’t realized the experience would be the exact opposite of pleasurable. The more videos you watched, the more your misery grew.

You couldn’t exactly explain why you were so upset. All you knew was that your chest was heavy with dread, your eyes forlorn as you watched video after video.

You were so distracted by the video of your sixth birthday (Hank was now interrogating you about the differences between being five and six, ever the detective) that you hadn’t heard Connor’s light footfalls. Though you probably wouldn’t have heard them anyway. Androids were scarily sneaky like that. You didn’t realize Connor was even in the room until he was standing right beside you, his figure nothing but a shadow in your peripheral vision. You had almost forgotten he was here, simply resting (or whatever it was androids did) in Hank’s spare room.

Your attention snapped to him, fumbling for the remote to pause the video. With only the light of the television to guide you, you struggled to find the pause button. By the time you finally found it, your cheeks were unbearably warm with embarrassment. 

Watching videos of your childhood self to remember the good times with Hank before he practically cut you off completely, dried tear stains on your cheeks and fresh tears welling in your eyes? Pathetic.  

With your face buried in the baggy sleeves of Hank’s sweatshirt, you tried to casually wipe away your tears, but you knew it was too late. Connor had already seen them. And even if he hadn’t seen them, you were sure he could guess by the shaky tone of your voice.

“Hi, Connor,” you greeted weakly.

Connor was silent for a moment as his eyes trailed over your figure, surely analyzing you. His LED circled yellow for a long time. Even when he sat down beside you, it continued to show yellow.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked softly, reaching a hand forward to rest on your knee and giving it a loving squeeze.

You were so surprised that he didn’t offer some kind of thorough analysis of your current mental state that a guttural laugh escaped your lips. The sound confused even Connor, his eyebrows furrowing at your impromptu reaction. You covered your mouth sheepishly, flashing Connor a look that said “I’m-sorry-I-don’t-know-what-that-was-either-kindly-ignore-that.”

Connor was silent again as he considered what to say. His eyes flitted to the television screen that had paused on a frame of you shoving your face into the camera with a toothy smile. You were missing two of your bottom teeth.

“Is that you?” Connor inquired. He was only being polite. You both knew that with a simple facial scan he had already determined that it was, in fact, you.

“Yeah,” you answered lamely. “My sixth birthday.”

Connor’s hand that was resting on your knee moved to your hand, slowly pulling the remote out of your grip. He unpaused the video and sat stiffly, his eyes darting from you to the screen like he didn’t know which to watch. The television showed you as you flaunted your missing teeth before pulling back to answer another one of Hank’s questions.

“Alright, last question, kiddo,” Hank said off-screen, his tone teasingly serious. “We gotta hear the final verdict… d’you like being six?”

Your little self squinted her eyes in consideration, lips pursed into an extreme pout. For added effect, you put a finger to your chin and tapped it thoughtfully.

“Hmm…,” you thought loudly. “No!”

“No?” Hank repeated with a hearty laugh. “Why not?”

“I don’t wanna get old,” you admitted innocently as if it was the easiest answer in the world. “Getting old means I’ll die.”

You snatched the remote from Connor’s hand and hurriedly paused the video again. All of a sudden, your breaths were coming out in sharp pants as your body was filled to the brim with an inexplicable panic. You needed a distraction, you didn’t want to think about any of this. 

Connor was calling your name calmly, his voice a steady, grounding force. Your wide eyes snapped to meet his, hands moving to clutch both of his. As you latched onto his warm gaze, you felt an odd imbalance. You couldn’t tell if you were comforted or stressed by his presence.

“How can I help you?” Connor murmured, allowing you to grip his hands as tightly as possible.

“I don’t know… I don’t know,” you stammered. “I’m scared, Connor.”

“What are you scared of?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Okay… okay,” Connor whispered soothingly.

Freeing one of his hands from your grasp, Connor’s hand snaked to the back of your head and pulled you forward until your forehead was resting against his lips. He pressed light kisses against your skin, murmuring comforting words as tears started to silently spill from the corners of your eyes. You collapsed forward until your face was buried in the crook of Connor’s neck. His lips moved to your head, kissing along the top of your head.

Why were you crying? Why were you crying? Why were you crying?

You didn’t understand why you were so overwhelmed, you just knew that you were. You had felt it so suddenly that there hadn’t been time to ask why. 

“Are you scared of… losing Hank?” Connor questioned.

No, that wasn’t it. Well, yes, you were. But that wasn’t the cause of your unexpected anxiousness.

“Are you scared of… dying?”

Yes. Yes, that was it. That was it. Sort of, at least.

Too broken to speak, you simply nodded against Connor’s body. 

“Can you tell me what scares you about it?”

Could you? You thought about it, blinking furiously to slow the tears. Why were you scared? Sure, death was scary in general, but there was something else. There had to be something else because your heart was still pounding furiously.

“I… don’t know,” you croaked.

“Okay,” Connor said patiently. “That’s alright. You don’t need to know.”

With his hands still on you, Connor carefully pulled away from you to meet your gaze. The corners of his lips were raised in a loving smile as he studied you, his thumb absentmindedly running along your knuckles.

“I want you to know that you’re safe with me,” he continued.

You matched Connor’s smile hesitantly, feeling your heartbeat slow to a resting state. Your attention was drawn to Connor’s spiraling LED as it returned to its usual blue.

That was it.

Your smile vanished quicker than it appeared. Your eyes were now fixated on the LED at Connor’s temple, a constant reminder that he was an android. And you were only human.

“I’m going to lose you,” you whispered hoarsely.

A puzzled look crossed Connor’s features, the crease between his brows returning. His LED blinked yellow again as he realized you were still in distress. 

“You won’t lose me,” Connor promised, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can’t lose me.”

“That’s the problem, Connor,” you sniffled. “Someday, I’ll die. And you’ll keep living.”

The tension in Connor’s face eased as he realized the root of your sadness, though he didn’t look at ease himself. His LED quickly turned to a solid red. He looked so… sad. As if it hadn’t occurred to him until now the inevitable future of the two of you. 

The look on his face made you want to apologize profusely. You were sorry for ever putting that thought in his head. But you didn’t have the words to speak. You were frozen, just as he was.

Connor broke your suspended state by inhaling slowly, nodding his head as he thought to himself. You noticed that his grip on your hand was tighter as if he was afraid to let go. His other hand had moved to rest on your upper arm, rubbing it soothingly. It seemed to be a calming gesture for both you and him.

“Maybe that is how it will be,” Connor muttered, his eyes finding yours again. “Or maybe there’s another way we don’t know of. But that… that’s far in the future. That’s not something we need to concern ourselves with right now. Right now… is right now.”

Your tears had stopped falling long ago once there were no more left to cry. You resorted to chewing your lip worriedly, ignoring the bead of blood that infested your tastebuds. Connor’s hand moved to caress your jaw, running a thumb across your lips to stop you from hurting yourself. 

“Right now… I’m holding you. On this couch. Because I care about you,” Connor continued, though his voice was still slightly frazzled. “And that’s all we need to worry about.”

Either way, his words did do something to calm you. You nodded along as he spoke, leaning into the warmth of his smooth palm. Your fear wasn’t gone, not completely anyway. But it was certainly less than it was before. 

You moved quickly into Connor’s arms, pushing him back so that he was lying on the couch. Your head curled against his chest, holding the front of his shirt tightly. You never wanted him to leave. His arms naturally fell around you and lightly rubbed your back.

It wasn’t necessary for Connor to breathe, but you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. You knew he was doing it for your sake. You followed the pattern of his breathing until you finally felt a sense of peace for the first time that night.

“Will you keep holding me like this?” you mumbled.

“I’ll hold you like this, right now and forever.” 

[imshymorph]

Gather around everyone, here’s some soft!Gaz headcanons. Idk if it's a blorbo or me ranting and fangirling but i need to share the brain rot. another post today cause fuck it, i’ve been thinking about it for a while. also this was like a constant stream of thought and not proof read.

I truly don’t understand why this man gets ignored so much and I never will. He literally has everything you could ever want, saying he’s a ten doesn’t cut it. And yet I barely see people talking about him. (Except the gaz nation pookies, I see you).

This man absolutely bags the hottest significant other, doesn’t even know how. Don’t get me wrong, he 100% has rizz but he’s also just naturally attractive and inviting so i feel like by the time he starts to flirt on purpose it’s been two hours of pure smoothness. He’s also absolutely whipped but plays it off really smoothly.

- - - - -

Not only does he bag the hottest and meanest pookie aka you, but he also absolutely knows he did. And he’ll let right about everyone else know. I do think he’s more private about his life than say Soap, so it’s not like he’ll stop a random recruit and tell him about you (which i truly believe Johnny would do). But he has absolutely followed Price around base while he tells him about the two weeks leave he took to be with you.

Poor Price on his desk, dealing with the paperwork that comes as a necessity after Ghost and Soap blew something up during a drill that didn’t involve explosives at all. Not only is he having to fill out like fifteen different forms and reports, but he has Gaz sitting across from him, scrolling through his gallery and showing pictures of the place he took you out to on your Friday dinner date. Not only that but if Price just pretends to look but doesn’t actually pay attention Kyle will know and insist until the captain actually looks at the slideshow.

He doesn’t hammer your dates' knowledge onto Soap and Ghost as much, but he’ll definitely do subtle flexes. He chest the time on his phone instead of his watch so they’ll see the picture of you he has as a background. If someone brings up a weekend plan he’ll say how he can’t because he’s already going out with his darling. Subtly will tell anyone that will listen how you got him his new shirt, pants, cap, whatever it is tbh.

He also knows every single product that you prefer, doesn’t matter what kind it is. Makeup, skincare, cologne, fabric softener, snacks, beverages, food places, clothing brands. He doesn’t care, he knows all of them by heart. It’s like he has a six sense too, every time you’re close to running out of them he’ll randomly stop in the store on his way back to you from base and get them.

While i headcanon that Johnny gets into skin care after his darling introduces him to it (which you can read here, if you want). I believe Kyle absolutely has his own routine and that he is the one who first brings up the idea of having a spa night once a week. He’s the one to get the products, he even goes all out and does them themed, like by scent or colour or something.

Has a bunch of hoodies in rotation (or any other clothing piece you might steal from him) always making sure to wear at least one of them for a few days before “forgetting” it at yours or “forgetting” to take it to base once you’ve moved in together. He knows how much you love wearing them and how important it is that it smells like him. So he dutifully makes sure you always have a fresh Kyle™ piece of clothing available. Also it absolutely works for him too because he takes back the one you’ve had with you meanwhile. The mix of your cologne, body wash and fabric softener his favourite scent for sure.

And last but not least of my Gaz is the perfect boyfriend agenda (for today) is the fact that i know he just gives the best back massages. You don’t even have to ask for it, he’ll just come to the living room, lightly pat your shoulder so you move forward. He fits himself between the couch and your back and just gives you the massage of your life. He just laughs it off when you tell him he could be a masseuse if he ever retires from the military.

It takes less than 5 minutes to have you absolutely melting, and when he’s pleased with how comfortable and relaxed you look he just pulls you back against his chest. His arms wrap around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder as you sit between his legs, the both of you watching a random show he saw good ratings of.

[rainbow-rey]

Willy's Special Rod

Willy x Reader - MDNI!!

Summary: Willy shows the farmer how he uses his rod.

Tags: reader-insert, pov first person, p in v, creamp/e, size k/nk

Posted on ao3 as a oneshot and part of a collection

I wake up and are instantly reminded of what I was doing last night, before I went to bed. I grab a coffee, sipping it slowly as I remember my intense orgasms, thanks to the help of my glass dildo. I feel my pussy getting wet from the memories. I clear my throat and leave the house, forcing myself to focus on the morning’s tasks. There’s a letter in the mailbox this morning, and it’s from Willy. I can feel my pussy clench, picturing his beard, his broad shoulders, his essence. What does he want? I want to open it, but instead I stick it in my pocket, saving it for after I collect today’s crops. 

Once the animals are fed, pumpkins are harvested, and the fruit cave is checked, I can finally open Willy’s letter. I open it eagerly and read it aloud. 

"Come to the beach at six… That’s it?" I cry, disappointed. Maybe I shouldn’t have expected much. Willy isn’t the poet type, and I feel silly for maybe wanting something more from him.

As I’m working, I can’t help but think about Willy. I’ve been having taboo thoughts about him ever since I met him last spring, so I was thrilled when he finally suggested an arrangement for us. I provide him with release whenever he wants, and he gives me bait and equipment. 

Willy is undeniably hot. He has a strong, masculine air to him, one that you don’t find in guys my age. I’d been touching myself to him since the first day I met him. He gave me my fishing rod and showed me how to cast it, wrapping his arms around mine as he guided them and whispered instructions in my ear. The sight of him handling his rods, wrapping his thick fingers around the handles. I remember going home and finding my pussy wetter than I’d ever gotten before. I had no choice but to pound myself with my dildo, pretending it was Willy’s thick cock. My pussy is drenched at the memories, and I have to squeeze my thighs together. Willy makes me so aroused it hurts. I contemplate going inside and masturbating before I leave, but I check my watch and I only have an hour before I have to be at the beach. I run inside quickly to get dressed, forcing myself to ignore my overly inviting dildo. I unbutton the first two buttons of my shirt and fluff up my hair in the hallway mirror before heading back out. I set off for the beach.

-

I walk down the dock, approaching Willy. I tap his shoulder, admiring the way his arms fill out his shirt so nicely. I fight the choking-themed thoughts that come. 

"Y/N, you’re here," Willy says. "I was worried you wouldn’t show."

"Of course I’m here," I smile. "I like this shirt on you, by the way."

"Thank you, Y/N." The way he says my name has my hole gushing. What is it with this man? "Come inside. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Slick oozes out of my cunt as I think about him and his veiny cock. It’s easily the biggest one I’ve seen before, and I can barely take all of him in my mouth at once. I only imagine how he would feel inside me; so far he’s only asked me to use my hands, mouth, and one time he wanted me to use my tits. I’ll never forget his groans whenever I licked his tip when it showed from between my boobs. 

I follow Willy inside his shop. He pulls me behind the counter. I instinctively get on my knees in front of him and reach to undo his pants, but today he stops me. 

“I have a different idea today, Y/N,” he says gently. God, he’s hot. 

“What do you need today, Willy?” I ask him. It doesn’t take a genius to notice the way his cock twitches when I say his name. 

“Well, I’ve been thinking recently…” He takes my chin with his fingers and tilts my face up to meet his. His hazel eyes are a piercing shade, tinted with lust. 

“You’ve been… thinking? About what?” I won’t lie, I don’t really care about what he has to say. I just need to feel his cock somewhere and I’ll be happy. Right now, I don’t feel him anywhere, and I’m a little impatient. 

Willy notices my impatience. “I won’t beat around the bush. I’ve been wondering what your pussy would feel like.”

I can’t control the blush that appears on my face, and I’m now feeling flustered. Finally! It’s taken far too long for him to ask. “Do you mean—“

“I want my cock in your cunt. Would you like that, Y/N?” His voice is raspy, laced with desire. I imagine that’s what he sees in my face, too, and there’s no other way my eager nod can be interpreted otherwise. 

Willy reaches for my hands and pulls me up to sit on the counter. He trails his hand along my body, making me shiver. His fingers reach the buttons on my shirt. 

“Can I undo these?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

I nod. I can feel his dick pressing against my center as he moves closer to me, rock-hard and straining against the fabric of his pants. All the heat in my body rushes down to my cunt as Willy groans in approval, noticing that I went braless today. His fingers graze my nipples and I moan. It’s been forever since I felt the touch of a man, and I’m so glad he’s the one with his hands on me. Willy is gentle yet deliberate with his actions, pinching my nipples and squeezing my tits. I whine when he pulls away from my chest, but it’s worth it when he starts to slide down my skirt. 

“Hips up, baby,” he says, and I use his shoulders as leverage to let him pull the fabric off my ass. The underwear I’m wearing underneath is pretty normal, but I don’t have time to stress about them when he pulls them off too.

Willy gets one look at my pussy and groans. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re soaked for me. You’ve been wanting this?”

I nod, feeling my cheeks flush. 

“Such a good girl,” he says under his breath, grinning. Willy starts removing his own clothes. “Can I see you touch yourself for me, baby?”

I oblige. I lick my fingers, sucking them like I suck his cock. My eyes don’t leave his. After I’ve properly lubed my fingers, I drag them down to my gushing, hot cunt. My middle and ring fingers dip just barely into my hole, and I can feel the sticky, wet fluids inside me. Willy looks more turned on than I’ve seen him before, so I take it as a good sign and start rubbing my clit. I moan softly, the feeling only amplified when I see Willy start to stroke his cock to the sight of me. I rub my clit faster, and my well-lubed fingers make any potential friction cease. The sounds of my fingers on my cunt turn me on, as well as Willy, whose hand is moving at a speed that would make me cum instantly if he was inside me. I don’t make any signs of stopping the pleasure on my clit, instead waiting for him to finally say the magic words.

“I’m about to come—“ he cries. 

“Don’t do it yet,” I tell him, removing my hand from my pussy and watching him unwillingly move his hand too. He looks disappointed, but the look goes away when I tell him, “I want you in my cunt.”

The gleam in his eyes is unmistakable as he lines himself up with my entrance. Willy pushes his unbearably thick tip inside me before pulling out, making me whine. I’m not sad anymore, however, when he drags his now-lubricated tip on my clit in slow, carefree motions. 

“Please…” I whine. 

“Please what, baby?” Willy doesn’t stop the teasing motions on my clit. 

“Fuck me, Willy. I need to feel your thick cock in my wet cunt,” I cry. I can’t help it anymore. I’m so close to finally getting what I’ve wanted for months. 

And holy shit, when that wish is granted, it feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

Willy’s cock is big. I knew that, but I didn’t quite know just how big it really was. No dildo can ever satisfy me the way he can. The minute I feel him press into my hole, I know I’m in for the ride of my life. 

His cock reaches every single part of my cunt. I feel full in a way nothing could have ever made me feel except for him. At first, he just slides in his cock, letting me adjust to his size. I can feel my pussy molding to his length as he pushes into me. When I think he’s done inserting himself, he manages to fit more in. 

“Is it all in yet?” I ask, almost desperate. 

“Almost, baby.”

Finally, I feel his balls hit my ass. Willy stays in this position for a bit, really making sure that my cunt won’t ever take dick that isn’t his without being disappointed. 

Slowly, Willy starts to thrust. With each one, his fat dick hits every spot in me, making me scream as he rubs my g-spot over and over and over. I feel pleasure I didn’t know was possible. The amount of slick that has come out of my hole between arriving at the shop and now ensures that there’s no friction at all. I’ve never been as turned on as I am right now, tits bouncing as Willy pounds my pussy over his countertops. No amount of porn can capture how utterly amazing this sex is. 

Willy puts his hands on my hips to steady me as he speeds up his thrusts. I cry out each time he bottoms out in me. The room echoes with sex sounds, between his balls slapping against my ass, our combined moans, and the obscene slick noises that come when his cock slides in and out of my soaked cunt. 

I think this situation can’t get any better, but Willy decides to lean over me on the counter, making direct eye contact with me as he destroys my swollen pussy. I’m tempted to lean up slightly and bring my lips to his—but he does it first. 

His lips against mine, his hands on my hips, his cock in my hole… It doesn’t get any better than this. His tongue slides between my lips and now we’re making out as he continues to pound his thick, long cock inside me. Every thrust makes me scream into his mouth, and he doesn’t let up. My back arches and my pussy clenches as I feel my body heat gathering near my cunt, amplifying the feeling of him penetrating me. 

Soon, I can’t help it anymore, and I don’t think he can, either. When I pull away from our kiss and scream, “I’m coming!” he doesn’t stop his pace until I can feel my lower lips flutter around him. Only then does he slow down the speed of his thrusts, filling my insides with hot cum. Willy collapses on top of me, pulling me into a soft kiss. 

“We should do this again soon,” he whispers in my ear. 

-

Kudos and comments are appreciated <3

Reblogs > likes

[doctorhelena]

Hi @theawkwardterrier!

I’m your @steggyfanevents Steggy Secret Santa this year, and in true Steggy fashion (and in my own personal tradition for the past few years), I'm late. 😂😩

The good news is that I have a fully completed draft of a story I think you'll enjoy, and editing is progressing well! The bad news is that it's quite a bit longer than I'd intended (I really thought I’d come up with a short, self-contained idea this year! 😭) so editing is taking a little longer than I’d hoped, and even with the extension I'm not quite going to make it. But I really, really hope I’ll have it for you very soon!

In the meantime, please accept this short preview excerpt.

Context: Post-Endgame Steve has received a short and uninformative "I need an emergency lift ASAP" phone call from Peggy (who didn't kiss him hello when she got in the car because the lipstick she's wearing would make that a bad idea.)

-------

The lipstick was another thing he wasn’t exactly jealous about. Peggy had been a spy long before Steve had met her, and he’d always known that, thanks to the Sweet Dreams knockout lipstick Howard had made for her, kissing unsavory individuals was sometimes the most efficient way to do her job. And he understood that there was a difference, for her, between kissing for personal and professional reasons. Still, he didn’t particularly like to think about it actually happening, and Peggy always looked a little guilty, and then annoyed at herself for feeling guilty, whenever the topic came up. 

To top it all off, Howard, unprompted, had recently developed two further prototypes: Forget Me Not, making the recipient of a kiss forget everything that had happened in the past half day, and Always Be True, containing a truth serum that lasted for about five to six hours, at Howard’s best guess.

“At your best guess?” Steve had asked him when he’d brought it over. Howard had shrugged unrepentantly. “I’ll have a better idea after Peg gathers some data from the field.” He’d proceeded to cheerfully ignore Steve’s patented Captain America look of reproach, while Mr. Jarvis had simply shaken his head wearily in the background.

Peggy, too, had regarded the new lipsticks with a healthy dose of suspicion - and Steve, having heard the story of her adventures with Howard’s ‘Bad Babies’, understood why. But the fact was that Howard was generally pretty reliable once he’d declared an invention ready for action, and Steve knew that Peggy now kept all three in her bag along with her regular lipstick, having had Howard mark the different tubes with a series of notches and grooves so that she could easily tell them apart by feel. 

“What happened?” he asked her now, as he slowed the car to a stop and waited for a truck to pass on the cross street. It was snowing a bit harder now, and he could afford to drive more cautiously now that he knew Peggy was safe.

“Howard Stark,” Peggy said with great exasperation. “I’ve ruined my chances at getting vital information from the arrogant ass I’ve been unpleasantly cultivating for weeks now, because Howard Stark is a bloody idiot.”

[a-really-good-lawyer-abandoned]

Something I never see people talk about (which could be because I simply haven't come across it) is how rough forming a new hyperfixation can be, especially a core hyperfixation.

I've loved Star Trek for years. But for whatever reason, it wasn't until a couple years ago that something in my brain *clicked* and it became a new core hyperfixation.

In some ways it was better than past such hyperfixations because there is so much Star Trek out there to consume, between shows and films and then the fandom content because this fandom has been alive and well for over 50 years, gave birth to modern fandom.

But that didn't change the fact that, for the ensuing six months, it consumed my life - and not in the fun, tongue-in-cheek way we say 'this fandom consumes my life', like semi-hyperbole.

When I say it consumed my life, I mean it was near non-stop hyperfocus for months.

My apartment was constantly a mess, same as my sense of time. My sleep schedule was constantly erratic. I was often dehydrated, had frequent headaches, often found myself shaking from all the adrenaline surges. I dropped fifteen pounds almost without noticing (weight I shouldn't have dropped).

I was always drained, always disoriented, always distracted. It didn't feel good. Really, it felt distinctly bad, and I felt completely out of control to make it stop. If I made myself ignore the media and fic and fan art and all of that, it just meant I sank into myself, got lost in my head for hours on end.

After the first two months it began to gradually, slowly ease up, and when I hit around six months it stopped feeling like I was being dragged along and started to feel the way I want when it comes to hyperfixations - it was fun, mood-boosting. Engaging with it improved my mental health, instead of causing it, along with my physical health, to deteriorate.

That was probably the worst 'epsiode' I've had, but I've had them several times. The one when I developed the Daredevil hyperfixation thankfully lasted only two months, same as when it was FMA:B and BBC Merlin, and...three months, I think, for Star Wars? The one that got closest was Smallville, my first fandom hyperfixation, though I imagine some of that had to do with it coming out when I first had regular internet access. That one was maybe four or five months, and was dragged out by the fact that I was in high school so I was 'forced' away from it all by the anxiety of college applications and AP exams and all that fun stuff.

I love having these things. They've been good for me, for my emotional welfare - have helped me survive so much. I never regret that initial rough aspect, not that I've ever had the power to do things differently.

But it is rough, and one of the aspects of neurodivergence I've had the most trouble explaining to neurotypical people. They see it as simple obsession or addiction, something that I fell into and need to take steps to pull myself out of, rather than something that my brain just does at the drop of a hat and which won't stop until I go through that process. Trying not to, trying to mitigate it, just ends up dragging that process out. It can't be reduced or bypassed. It's just part of how my brain works.

And people trying to interfere with that, to 'fix' that by making me pay attention to other things, giving me tasks, whatever it may be - it does nothing to change it. If anything, it makes the whole thing much more destabalizing, in ways that can have major consequences for my state of mind, and I've had the experiences to prove it.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, but I just...wanted to put it out there. I think there can be shame attached to this reality - shame I've felt, and which I've come to recognize originates from neurotypical social expectations and a lack of understanding.

If this is something you've dealt with and have been shamed for, I hope this post can give you some comfort. It isn't a failing, isn't deviant, isn't indulgent. It just is, and you aren't bad or broken or weak because of it.

[fallingsatellive]

Long, winding post about the exchange of life lessons between Tetri and me

What Tetri has taught me:

Slow down. When I'm walking outside, I tend to end up walking very fast no matter how slow I started out. But I have a nerve disease and chronic pain and when I walk too fast my limbs start to hurt. I also have a lung disorder and start struggling to breathe deep enough. So when he notices me walking too fast, wincing and gasping, and sometimes I don't even notice it, he tells me to slow down. ("You'll get to where you're going anyways, and your body won't hate you for it. It's not just about literally walking. It's about everything. 'Slowing down' is also sleeping when you need to, and taking breaks from work, and when you're in nature or engaging with art, actually taking it in instead of going as fast as possible to get all of it. Savor your food. And all that.")

Digital self-harm is real self-harm. This used to be my biggest bad habit. Tetri was the one who trained me out of it and was the "voice in my head" who told, no, don't open that comment thread, don't look in that tag, don't watch that video, don't read that article, don't engage with this person and get in a fight that won't be satisfying and will just leave you feeling frustrated and disgusted with yourself. Just move on and actually get something positive out of being online like being part of a community you actually enjoy and talking to friends you appreciate the company of. "Scroll a tag you actually find interesting." Lmao.

Check the time. Another one of my bad habits that I didn't even realize was a habit, let alone a bad one, until Tetri told me so. When I'm in a situation I don't want to be, specifically a long one, like work, school, a lecture, a meeting, whatever, anything that has a determined end time, I am "time pessimistic." I check the clock once, and then for next long while, I think of the time as whatever time it was when I looked, and refuse to look at the clock again. As in, I'll look at the clock, see 5 pm, and even hours later I'll think "Well last I looked it said 5 pm, so I still have seven hours to go." I did this because I didn't want to be "disappointed" when I actually looked at the clock and it was earlier than my prediction. Tetri told me this: "Don't make a prediction at all. Don't make estimates about what time it is. You don't know the time until you look. If you look at the clock and it says 6 pm, you now know that you have six hours to go, and you are prepared for six hours, not eight or seven or five." If you can't do optimism, you be a realist.

What I have taught Tetri:

Oxygen mask. He puts others before himself, very instinctually. It's second nature to him, but he will ignore his own needs way too much for the sake of me and often the other headmates. He has a bad habit -- and often he doesn't even realize he's doing it -- where he seems to "absorb" my negative emotions like a sponge, which means I feel calmer but he feels worse. I've started pointing this out to him and getting him to stop. I've also started comforting him when he feels bad. I think the first few times I was his shoulder to cry on instead of the other way around opened his mind to the concept that you must put your own oxygen mask on first before you can help others. And that he needs to breathe air just as much as any of us.

Catharsis is just as effective as comfort. He's very different about this now than he used to be. For the first while, he only liked happy TV shows, he only wanted to read positive fluffy books, and he refused to listen to "depressing" music. Comfort is the OS his mind runs on. He is very, very good at it when he's doing it for other people, but it was a limitation of his that he avoided the negative emotions in himself. Sharing my favorite things with him -- horror movies and games, gothic literature, Trevor Henderson, Porcupine Tree, Franz Kafka, Ray Bradbury -- has lead him to same conclusion I'm at: sometimes you need to feel uncomfortable for the long-term mental benefit, you need to face the ugliness of reality just as much as its beauty.

You are an individual. Dæmonism at its core is a relationship between two people, and just like any other relationship between two people, it must be give and take, it cannot be only give. He doesn't like to call it low self-esteem, and I suppose he's accurate about that, but he had issue seeing himself as a fully fledged person with his own wants and needs and beliefs. Which is what he is -- I understand it would be normal for many people's dæmons to be correct about that, but we work differently, and he sees that now. He's a part of me, but he's not just a part. He's a member of a team. (How he puts it when I asked him to weigh in: "I extend from [Swift], I'm a traditional dæmon and I'm a manifestation of [his] 'soul' or whatever we're going to end up calling it, but I'm also a traditional dæmon in how I function independently and make my own decisions. Yeah. Being very traditional, we differ from most dæmian pairs in both of those ways.")

[neko-naruto]

Fight fire with fire

Summary: Kyle is Kennys soulmate, the only problem with that is they both fall under the same ranking- it goes anywhere and everywhere but where Kenny expected when Kyle realizes it.

Warnings: Omegaverse, the talk, panic, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: *hits post button with the strength of a day old rat* day six woohoo. school is fucking me up big time, but i did draw something semi-artistic in advance so no fic tomorrow. hope ya'll enjoy this one, if you do maybe consider dropping a reblog or checking the ao3 port

It started in grade eight, right around the time many would present with their ranking. Alpha, Beta, or Omega, and there were always a few who fit the gray areas in between without scientifically accepted terminology. In grade eight, when you would would wake up and know that something is different. You'd wake up, walk downstairs and all eyes would be on you as they take in the new, still-forming scent and figure it out.

And then you'd go to school and the teachers would take a small blood sample around your scent gland and put it in a machine. They were always kind enough to keep it quiet around your rank, something for you to boast instead. They'd hand you a slip of paper after class and send you off to return the next day with the information.

In South Park, things are a little bit different, you have to figure it out on your own.

"Ha! I bet Kyles gonna end up an Omega," Cartman snickered to as the aforementioned redhead walked into the class.

He looked completely calm and collected, and Cartman didn't like that. He sat down at his desk and simply ignored Cartman instead of antagonizing. Three years ago he gladly would've thrown words and fists with him but he's mature now. He's presented now and he plans full well on holding that over his friends heads because he hit the moment first. (Unless Stan, Kenny, or Cartman also presented in the dead of night like Kyle did)

Stan picked up the slight difference first, "Did you get your rank last night dude?"

Kyle nodded, "I had to take a two hour shower to wash off the residual scent man, I would recommend against presenting."

"So what are you Kyle? An Omega?" Cartman teased in a singsong voice.

"Yeah man, what are you?" Kenny chimed in with, leaning over his desk a bit.

"An Alpha," Kyle answered with, grinning smugly.

And Cartman burst out laughing in disbelief.

"You're joking! You have to be, you can't be an Alpha! You're obviously an Omega!" Cartman exclaimed, still laughing all the while. He shut up the second Kyle had him pressed against his desk, hands pinned behind his back and the corner of the desk jutting into his thigh. He gave a weak wheeze of a laugh, "Idiot," Then he kicked and it hurt (a lot) but Kyle didn't falter.

"I can't be an Alpha, right? Then prove it, give me a command," Kyle snarled out, venom clear as day on his voice, "Everyone knows Omegas crumble even under unranked fuckers like yourself."

Cartman just laughed as best he could, "Fuck off Kyle," The edge required for a command wasn't present.

Kenny placed a hand on Kyle shoulder, "Dude, let go of Cartman."

Kyle glared at him, digging his nails into Cartmans wrists.

"Let him go," Kenny demanded and Kyle heeled like a dog whether he liked it or not. His grip on Cartmans wrists came undone in a second and he stepped back.

"Fine," He spat the word, "Tell him not to be an asshole and I won't do it again."

Stan simply stared, "Maybe you are an Omega dude."

"What?" Kyle turned around so fast it could give him whiplash as the word burst from his mouth.

"You just followed Kennys order like a pet dog," Stan said calmly, aware that Kyle wouldn't hurt him or pin him.

Kyle paused briefly, "And? He's my friend, I was just taking his advice."

"Don't be so insecure, we won't make fun of you if you're an Omega," Stan said, it only stoked the fire in the pit of Kyles stomach more.

"It'd be a good balance to have one Omega in the group, more than two Alphas would lead to self-destruction," Kenny explained and Kyles glare was sharp as an axe.

"What makes you so sure anyone else in this group is gonna be an Alpha? Let alone two?" Kyle questioned, watching with rapt intrigue as Kenny rubbed his wrists together.

Scent glands, he was exfoliating them to release more pheromones- but he had no pheromones. Or really weak ones, he still hadn't presented and the scent of a rankless person would do nothing to calm down Kyle. Or whip him into a frenzy, whatever their purpose they wouldn't work.

Kenny grabbed Kyle and pressed his inner wrist against his nose, the second strongest scent gland on the body held just under his nostrils. He tried to lessen his breathing as Kenny held his wrist to Kyles nose, it was incredibly awkward. Kyle simply scowled and held his breath.

"Just breathe," Kenny said, letting go of the back of Kyles head, "I'm not chloroforming you with my wrists."

Kyle took a deep breath, the heady scent that Kenny held hit him impossibly hard. He coughed a little bit as he staggered back at the oak and cherry scent (there was alcohol but that was just his homes scent rubbing off on him). It burned his nostrils just a bit but in a good way, if felt almost right and he swears the scents all meld into one reminiscent of a wine he snuck at Stans house

"Fuck man, that's pungent," Kyle said, still trying to get it out of his lungs.

"I was presenting when I woke up this morning, took a long ass shower and hoped to god my parka would cover the scent," Kenny explained, "Apparently it did."

"Kennys an Alpha too? What a fucking world," Cartman muttered out as he pulled out his desk chair and sat down.

Kyle gives a hum of amusement, "That means you and Stan are gonna be our Omegas at the end of it all."

"What makes you think I'll be an Omega?!" Cartman snapped.

"It'd be funny," Stan answered with bluntly.

"Super funny," Kenny chimed in with.

Cartman paused, heat coiling under his skin uncomfortably, "What about our soulmarks?! We still gotta wait for those!"

"Don't worry Cartman, until you get your mark I'll help you with your heats," Kenny taunted in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Shut up!" Cartman snapped.

Kyle leans forward with a bemused hum, "No, you shut up," He holds a commanding edge to his tone and Cartman obeys it, keeping his mouth shut.

"Man I wish I presented," Stan managed wistfully, "Being an Alpha looks like fun."

"It is," Kenny and Kyle said in near unison.

-/-/-/-

Both Kyle and Kenny were brought aside in class, led down the same brightly lit hall, and left standing in front of a door. They didn't dare turn back with their teacher standing over them imposingly. Instead they looked around to find Cartman and Stan being led into two separate rooms. It was all oddly suspicious, and somewhat worrying, but in the same breath all too familiar in the worst way possible.

"Is this sex ed?" Kenny asked bluntly, tugging together the pieces in his head.

He got no response.

"So that's a yes," He got a little bit quieter.

"Gross," Kyle said, shuddering at the notions alone of listening to a teacher drone on about sex once more. Last time this happened their teacher barely knew how the basics of straight sex worked, even without putting ranks into consideration.

"Dude, it'll be fine, there aren't a lot of Alphas this year, mostly Deltas and Betas," Kenny said, placing a reassuring hand on Kyles shoulder, "Besides, you and I both know I'll correct anything they get wrong."

Kyle gave a weak laugh as he pushed open the door, "Totally."

Inside the near empty room sat two others from when they were young, the rest of the desks vacant. Wendy Testaburger and Tweek Tweak sitting up front and idly chatting as the brightness of the projectors light illuminated the dark room. It took a second before Kyle and Kenny made their way in, taking a seat beside Wendy.

"Where's everyone else?" Kyle asked in a hushed tone.

Wendy shrugged, "They probably knew what day it was and skipped on purpose."

"That explains why half the class was fucking gone," Kenny said, "Everyone knew the teachers don't know the difference between a heat and a rut am I right?"

"Totally," Tweek agreed, nodding his head as he spoke.

Kyle glanced haphazardly around the room, "Do you know when the teachers coming?"

"No clue," Wendy said, "How do you think Cartmans doing?"

Kenny hummed, as though deep in thought, "If their teacher is on time then I'd say he's just about to learn he can get pregnant."

"For real?" Tweak asked.

"Listen closely," Kenny said.

And is though it were on cue, a muffled scream of horror originating from Cartman could be heard coming from across the hall. Then a door opening and being slammed shut followed by heavy footsteps.

"Like I said," Kenny stated smugly.

"Christ how much do you know about sex?" Kyle asked.

"More than expected, I was talking about all sorts of weird shit way back in grade school man, you should know I know my stuff," Kenny said, a sly smirk held on his face.

"If the teacher messes up too much you'll pull us aside and correct them, right?" Wendy asked, tone far too serious to dare interpret as joking.

Kenny nodded, "Of course Wendy, least I can do for you and your future Omegas sake."

"Could be Beta," Kyle said, drawing out the A as he spoke.

Wendy nodded, "Yeah Kenny, our soul marks still haven't shown up."

"They won't for another t-t-three years! What are we gonna do during ruts?" Tweek questioned, his usual somewhat erratic self showing through.

"We'll ask the teacher," Kenny said nonchalantly as the door creaked open and a teacher walked in.

She turned on the slideshow before making her way to the front of the class. She cleared her throat before speaking, "Not a lot of Alphas this year?"

"Theres a few more than us but they got sick," Kyle said.

"That sucks, you four know what you're here for?" She asked, holding up the remote for the slideshow and turning it to more a comfortable blue tone, few words lay on the slide.

Everyone nodded before answering in a monotonous tone, "Sex ed."

"Correct, today we'll be talking about pre-rut slash pre-heat etiquette," The teacher said as calmly as she could, Kenny held up his hand, "Yes, you in the orange?"

"Will we bring up what to do before our soulmarks show up?" Kenny asked as innocently as he could muster despite having quite a few ideas.

The teacher nodded, "Yes, but for now let's do my curriculum for day one."

A twist of terror formed in the pit of everyones stomach at the notions of this merely being 'day one' of who knows how many. One hour of The Talk way back in grade four was enough to give Wendy nightmares and Kyle nausea, multiple days? It could very well kill them.

"So, if you want to mate, and potentially breed, your soulmate you have to discuss it with them before their pre-heat and your own pre-rut," The teacher said, voice cutting through the tension and making it worse, "Bring it up however you'd like to do so, but I'd suggest having it on paper, for legal reasons."

Everyone stayed quiet.

"Now, once you've made an arrangement you simply wait for their next heat or your next rut, for best effects wait until you've synced up. If your Omega is female than she'll be able to conceive when she isn't in heat if you're in a rut, if your Omega is male you have to wait till he's in heat. When their pre-heat begins they'll nest and do what they usually do," The teacher explained, Kenny already knew it. She flipped to the next slide. "It's up to you to notice and get consent once more before the heat begins or else it's considered illegal."

"It is?" Kenny asked without raising his hand, "Cause I've heard that South Park is making the idiot move to lift that law, making it unpunishable if previous agreements were made before pre-rut slash heat

"Illegal or not it'd still be considered rape and heavily punishable, especially if they conceive," The teacher said sternly, "Do not do anything without full consent, even if it's to a Beta cause they can still get pregnant, understood?"

Kenny nodded, "Please, continue."

"Alright now, I'm sure all of you have underwent a rut at least once already, correct?" The teacher asked.

Everyone reluctantly nodded, a twist of discomfort at disclosing the information despite the fact it was a normal. They all knew it was part of the education but fessing up to a normal biological function in front of a crowd was awkward.

"Pre-ruts are a little bit different than pre-heats, for one, Alphas usually don't go brain dead in the same way. They usually remember to eat food and drink lots of water," She said, rambling a bit, "But, you will have to keep the doors locked so you don't end up meandering into public in an impaired state. I'm sure you've heard of the cases for people who have? Plenty of lawsuits are in order."

That was just a little bit horrifying, the notions of being so brain dead they'd just go out there and fuck the first Omega in sight regardless of soulmark. They also knew that before society was as far along as it is now that things just worked like that and soulmarks were burned off.

"Lock the doors and the windows, make sure you have enough food littered across your roaming grounds for when you fully enter your rut. Let your friends know to stay away when it happens, especially if they're a lower rank. If it's Alpha to Alpha than really only a small amount of violence will happen before scent recognition tries to kick in; you'll both live," The teacher said calmly, "Alphas usually don't nest but some do, so don't be alarmed if you end up doing so, just ask your Omega for tips."

Wendy held up her hand.

"Yes, purple?" The teacher said.

"What are roaming grounds?" Wendy asked quietly, nervously at that.

"The roaming grounds are your territory, your own personal area, for most living on their own it's their whole home, for you guys I'd say it'd merely be your room," The teacher explained, "Now, any other questions?"

Kyle raised his hand.

"Green hat?"

He bit his lip in anxiousness before speaking, "What if both you and your soulmate are Alphas?"

The teacher laughed, "That almost never happens, and when it does society usually gets rid of them one way or another."

Kyles blood turned to ice, "Oh."

"Unlike two Omegas being soulmates, or two Betas, Alphas can't reproduce," The teacher said, "And as you all know that's highly frowned upon. Even with surrogate Omegas involved an A4A couple is usually shunned unless in the case of previous soulmates dying off and bonding over that."

"Well that's horrifying," Wendy said bluntly, "Couldn't be any of us."

"Definitely not," Kenny said, "We have the benefit of the doubt."

-/-/-/-

It truly went downhill on Kyles eighteenth birthday, two months after Kennys and the day that he gets his soulmark.

Way back during Kennys eighteenth birthday it was just him and Cartman hanging out for the night, waiting for his mark to appear. Playing video games, indulging in the oddly decadent dishes Liane would offer, laughing and having a great time despite the 'unfortunate' aspect of Cartmans biology. He ended up an Omega, the only one in their quartet, mere weeks after Stan presented as a Beta. His rank didn't do shit to deter the consistent broship he's had with his friends since the earliest days of kindergarten.

Still, he was distraught when word first came out and he was forced to come to terms with it, he was just lucky that he had two Alphas who wouldn't take shit to protect him. He'd never say out loud how much he appreciated the intimidation they did for him now that his rank was out in the open. Or that he appreciated the time Stan would spend to calm him down whenever he's been whipped into a frenzy by some stupid kid. But they all got the point when he shut up just a little bit more about Kyle being Jewish and Kenny being poor and whichever of Stans problems was on the table.

"Dude, it's like, ten PM," Cartman began with a yawn as he looked at the digital clock beside his bed, "I think you might be mateless."

"Bullshit, I just gotta wait a little bit longer," Kenny said, mashing more buttons as the screen flashed bright red indicating another kill.

Cartman shrugged as he stood up, "Okay man, I'll be back."

"With cheesy puffs?" Kenny asked.

"Obviously," Cartman answered with a roll of his eyes.

He left the door open on the way out, calm colors of the small TV screen filtering into the hallway. Kenny gave a sigh as he dropped backwards onto Cartmans bed and glanced at his wrists and then his ankles. Absolutely nothing, barely a hint of that scar tissue hue that shows up before the inky black. He gave a groan of annoyance before flipping over onto his stomach, stress tingled over his body. Normally he would try to quell that stress, make sure no one could smell it on him, but he knew that Liane would be a stand-in mother for a moment if she had too.

Maybe he was mateless, his mark sure as hell isn't showing up and the clock is ticking ever closer to twelve. Life would certainly be miserable if he was a mateless Alpha, those usually never crop up. It'd just be him and whatever job he managed to get until he found an unfortunate soul to bond with. The thought alone makes his stomach twist with an uncomfortable sense of dread.

"Dude," Cartmans bluntness tugs Kenny out of his thoughts.

He rolls onto his back, "What?"

"I could smell you downstairs, you're so fucking stressed right now it's not even funny," Cartman said as he sat down next to Kenny, placing a bag of cheesy puffs on the other side of his form. He rubbed his wrists together, "You're totally gonna get your mark."

"What if I don't?" Kenny asked quietly, the comforting fuzziness that Cartmans scent brought him slowly working through his system. His scent was like pink cotton candy, an overwhelming amount of cotton candy, only offset by the hint of pine needles. It was certainly an odd scent but everyone agreed that worse ones were out there.

Cartman placed his hands on either side of Kennys head, palms planted firmly in the sheets. All Kenny could catch was the sugary sweetness of Cartmans scent, "Then I guess our FWB arrangement will become permanent even after I get my mark."

"Thanks man," Kenny said, reaching up to push aside Cartmans hand. He pulled himself up and crossed his les, "Puffs?"

Cartman gave him a handful, "Puffs," He glanced over Kennys form, eyes catching on something before lunging.

The McCormick recoiled, "Dude!?"

"Your ankle!" Cartman exclaimed as he pressed his hands on the reddening patch of flesh.

"Not funny," Kenny got out as he pushed off Cartman with ease. He looked down at his ankle and found it was scarring up with his mark, a euphoric sensation shot trough him, "Holy fuck."

"Dude this is so cool," Cartman got out as he took a bite of a cheesy puff.

Kenny stared with intent as it finally settled on it's form, hue beginning to darken. He traced the thin lines of the pattern curiously, "What symbol is it?"

"No clue," Cartman said as he reached for his phone, "But the internet might know."

He snapped a picture of the mark before putting it into image search and waiting patiently for results. He hummed a bit as it loaded up, Kenny still fixated on the mark as it came too. It was one continuous line, a small hoop with two little sticky outy bits.

"Well?" Kenny asked eagerly.

"Says here its the alchemy symbol for death," Cartman said, a small chuckle on his voice, "Fitting considering how often you die."

Kenny rolled his eyes, "Fate loves to play cruel tricks on me doesn't it?"

"Next thing you know fates gonna revoke your soulmark," Cartman said with a laugh.

Kenny lightly punched him in the shoulder, "Too soon."

And now, two months after the shot of pure ecstasy that Kenny had gotten at the sight of his mark, he's waiting patiently with a couple others for Kyles to show up. The sun is still high in the sky, what with it only be five in the afternoon and spring. He's absolutely giddy, sheer excitement emanating from every pore in his body.

"What do you think it's gonna be?" Stan asked.

Kyle shrugged, "Hopefully something unique."

"I think it's gonna be a star," Cartman said, alluding to something but trying to keep it on the down low, even he knows you only turn eighteen once.

"What if it's a skull?" Craig asked.

"Well a skull is obviously Kennys soulmark," Butters stated as though it were matter of fact.

"Yeah guys, my soulmark is definitely a skull," Kenny said as he rolled his eyes. He rubbed his ankles against each other, pushing down the cuff of his pant leg to cover the mark more. He did enjoy it, he just didn't want anyone to really know- the only reason Cartman knew is because he saw it happen.

"Everyone shut up!" Kyle snapped, he pointed to his wrist, "It's happening."

It was happening, his skin reddening just a bit to that scar tissue hue in a large patch. Then it calmed down again, defining itself just a bit more before a pitch black filled it in. It was rather simple for someone as complex as Kyle, one line, a thin line. No extra little details here and there, just an odd looking loop attached to two stems with little bits on them. It looked familiar to Cartman, like he'd seen it before even though that's stupid. There was no reason for him to have seen a copy of Kyles soulmark until now when Kyle got it.

Then realization hit him hard.

He quickly glanced up to find Kenny looking impossibly uneasy. He looked like he was about to run away or vomit, his hands stuffed in his pockets nervously.

"I have to go feed the cat," Kenny managed to get out stiffly, taking a step back.

"Dude you don't have a cat," Kyle said, raising a brow- Kenny tried to send a subtle pleading look to Cartman.

"That's cause he's feeding my cat, he's taking care of it while moms out of town," Cartman butted in with.

"You should take care of your own cat," Kyle said.

Cartman gave an offended gasp, Kenny stepped back again, "I'll have you know I take great care of kitty."

"Oh yeah?" Kyle challenged, Kenny turned around to leave, "The how come Kennys taking care of it?"

"I'll have you know homework sucks and takes a lot of my time," Cartman spat defensively.

Kenny barely got out in the chaos that was forming.

-/-/-/-

Kenny isn't sure if you can go into a pre-rut through vigorous stress alone but it certainly feels like he is. Every nerve in his body is on fire in the worst was possible and he's nesting. He distantly feels shame for cocooning himself up in the corner of his closet but he just wants to hide from society and Kyle alike.

If a person in power finds out, both him and Kyle will be culled or ran out of town because they can't bring anything to society. And if Kyle finds out he'll panic because what happens when his parents find out? He'll freak out and try to distance himself from Kenny as much as possible for safety.

Kennys stomach does flips at the notions of having Kyle leave him, leave all of them because of him. He'd rather burn off his mark and say he just never had one then fess up and ruin Kyles life. But then again putting him on a wild goose chase for a soulmark that doesn't exist anymore is just as cruel.

What is he even supposed to do?

Well, first he freezes up at the sound of his window sliding open and someone climbing in. He knows it isn't a robber because his family sure as hell can't afford anything worth stealing. Which narrows it down to three people, Cartman, Stan, or Kyle- and he's never wanted to see Cartman more in his life than right now. He pushes himself deeper into the pitiful pile of blankets and pillows he calls a nest, he tugs the drawstrings on his parka a bit tighter.

"Kenny?" Came Kyles soft voice floating across the stagnant air into Kennys ears, it lit an uneasy fire in Kennys stomach, one he wanted to snuff.

He drug himself out of his nest before stepping out, eyes landing on Kyle. Poor, vulnerable, unarmed Kyle. Someone who'd end up with a better life dead if he finds out who his soulmark matches with.

Kenny can't stop his reflex from firing until it's already begun. Kyle is pinned under him on the bed and he freezes up near entirely. Labored breathing resting heavy by his head and the quake of Kennys form above him. Grip on his wrists sweaty and weak, the scent he catches is more distress than anything else.

"Leave," It's supposed to be a demand but it comes out far too cracked.

"Kenny get off of me," Kyle commands, holding his voices edge like a knife as he watches his friend stand up and back away. His face is red and he looks distraught, hands up in surrender.

He takes a shaky breath, "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry Kyle," His voice cracks as he leans against a wall, sliding down it.

Kyle stands up and brushes himself down, ignoring the racing sound of his heartbeat, "It's fine, instincts or whatever, you could've just said your pre-rut was coming on."

Kenny shakes his head, "Not, not just for that."

Kyle steps over to him, "Then why are you sorry bro.

The McCormick reaches to the cuff of his pants and tugs it up. He outstretches his leg and points to his soulmark, inky black as the day it ruined his life, "This."

Kyle stares for a moment, "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Kenny got out quietly, "I can go die in the woods if you want me too, go live a hermit life so I don't ruin yours." He draws his knees to his chest as he speaks.

Kyle sits down on his knees in front of him, "Kenny it's fine."

"It isn't, they'll ruin us Kyle, they'll throw us out and crucify us," Kenny said bluntly, trying to keep his voice even.

"No, Kenny, this is perfect," Kyle said, Kenny lifted his head a bit, "I always needed an excuse to kiss you."

"What?" Kenny managed to croak out.

"I just, thought you would find it weird cause we're both Alphas," Kyle said, bringing his hands to one of Kennys before placing their wrists together. He's hesitant to actually rub, "Scent mark?"

Kenny nodded, "Do it, please."

Kyle rubs their wrists together easily, his own scent bursting atop Kennys as they mixed a bit. Kyles scent was like like mandarin oranges and creek water, a cold and refreshing smell atop the burst of fruit. He took a deep breath, "I've sorta had a crush on you for a while."

"Feelings mutual," Kenny choked out.

Kyle placed a hand at Kennys cheek and he whined as he leaned into the touch, "No one has to know."

Kenny gave a weak laugh, "Cartman does."

"You told him?!" Kyle snapped.

"No, he was there when my mark appeared so he knows we match," Kenny explained as he placed a hand on Kyles.

"He's gonna spread so many rumors," Kyle grimaced.

"He knows better, why do you think he defended my shitty excuse?" Kenny asked with a raised brow.

"Good point," Kyle said, he placed a small kiss to Kennys forehead, "Love you bro."

"No one has to know?" Kenny asked desperately.

Kyle shook his head, "Naw, Stans pretty smart so I wouldn't be shocked if he deduced it right then and there."

Kenny nodded, "You're smarter."

Kyle gave a hum, "Thanks."

"I'm sorry for running off," Kenny said quietly.

"Dude stop saying sorry, you're not a fucking Canadian," Kyle said bluntly as he stood up and held out a hand that Kenny gladly took.

"Our childhood is built on Canadian entertainment, watch your mouth," Kenny said defensively.

"Make me," Kyle said with a smirk.

"You're lucky I'm not actually in pre-rut right now," Kenny said, a predatory grin on his face.

"Oh I look forward to it," Kyle said.

[authurials]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 . to punish the ambitious

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 . link

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 . strong language, sexual implications, possible other mature themes

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 . who's ready for the season finale? a bit late on posting chapter seven here on tumblr, but here it finally is! reminder, if you prefer to read on ao3, the fic is also cross-posted on there, and can be found here.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐀 was foul tasting and bitter on Keeley’s tongue, but she had no choice but to drink it all under the keen eye of the maester; grimacing, she gulped mouthful after mouthful of the concoction down until the cup was empty, only then did she pull it away and present it to the old man. Humming in approval, Oberon nodded and noted something down in the book he had brought:

“Good, I will let his grace know you drank all the tea.”

“Alright,” Keeley replied, shifting nervously as she glanced around her humble dwellings.

After she had awoken in the early hours of the morning, the wet nurse had found herself in quite the predicament; the king, fast asleep, naked aside from the eyepatch he had insisted be kept on even when Keeley had moved to remove it, was still burrowed into the tender flesh of the woman’s chest. Her nipples, red and swollen from the man’s attentions, were covered in the remnants of dried milk and saliva, and she had a sticky ache between her legs where the Targaryen had taken her two more times throughout the night. The Lorathi woman had never known a man could be so virile, her experience however in that respect was limited. The few lovers she’d had prior to her husband had been nothing but green boys, fumbling about under her dress skirts; even after marriage, her husband was not what one would describe as an ‘attentive’ lover.

Somehow managing to escape from under the suffocating hold of the king’s embrace without waking the man, Keeley had then dressed and retreated to the sanctuary of her own room after checking in with Meg about how Prince Aerion fared without her; aside from some initial fussing due to the change in wet nurses, the small babe had seemingly taken to the older woman with relative ease and slept peacefully through the night when not nursing.

Sleep eluding her, Keeley had instead settled in by the freshly lit fireplace to read one of the books she had borrowed from the library. It was a rather dry read if she were being honest, but it served as a welcomed distraction as she tried her best to ignore the event’s of last night; however, it seemed the gods were content to see her reminded, as not long after she had settled in her room once more Grand Maester Oberon had arrived with the tea. Which is what had led to right now–Keeley licking the bitter tasting tacky feel from her teeth as the man packed up his supplies.

“In the future, I expect you to come to my chambers after every visit with the king,” the maester advised, “by his orders of course.”

“Of course,” Keeley mumbled, flushing in embarrassment; the man seemed more than familiar with how to tend to the king’s lovers, which was unsurprising considering all things. The wet nurse had heard the rumors, been privy to forbidden conversations best spoken in hushed whispers and behind closed doors. The king was known for his sexual appetites, though from what the woman had heard his tastes had always seemed to revolve around proper ladies–maidens set to lose everything if their lord fathers were to discover what they had been doing while visiting the Red Keep.

The liaisons were said to last no more than half a year–six turns of the moon as his grace’s bed warmer, and then they were sent back to their Houses’ seats; their silence was paid handsomely in gold and the promise of an appropriate betrothal when the time came.

As Keeley walked Oberon to the door, she wondered if she too would hold a life expectancy of six moons as the king’s lover; would she also be tossed from the Red Keep like the others? The only difference being that she did not have a home to be sent back to–no lord father, and no name to protect her when it all came to an end. The realization was like ice in her heart, clutching the organ in tight fist as she tried to remind herself to breath.

Gripping the end of her bed frame, the woman hunched over as she focused on breathing in and out, a steady rhythm as she closed her eyes. She could not worry about the future, for all she truly had was the present. There was no guarantee the king would request for her again, perhaps it had only been a one time curiosity? Yes, the maester had mentioned the necessity for more moon tea, but that was not an indication of the king’s own desires.

Having successfully tricked herself into believing all would be well, Keeley took one last shuddering breath and moved to prepare for the day. She prepared a bath, water room temperature but sufficient in cleaning off the previous night’s activities. Thoroughly washing her hair and body, Keeley could almost convince herself she did not still feel the shadow of King Aemong’s touch–almost. She was happy she had enjoyed the whole ordeal, of course, but that did not mean she wished to linger too long on the memory.

Once clean, she slipped on her usual plain creamed colored dress, bodice specifically designed to allow easy access while breastfeeding. The familiarity of its material and design was a comfort to Keeley as she folded the dress from last night neatly, leaving it on the end of her bed.

I will have to find out how to return it, she thought to herself as she slipped on her flats. She was sure she could track Beryl down and ask the girl to take it off of her hands, seeing no need in keeping such a fine piece of fabric for herself. Hair sufficiently dried, she braided the wavy curls back into a long braid that swung down the length of her back; over it she tied a headscarf that matched her dress.

Feeling somewhat herself once more, Keeley finished just in time to hear the familiar wailing coming from the adjoining room. Almost comforted by the sound, the wet nurse smiled and made her way to the door that provided easy access to her charge’s room. Meg, having been kind enough to stay and watch over Prince Aerion until Keely had come back to herself, was already leaning over the crib to console the boy.

“I can do that, Meg,” Keeley assured, coming up behind the other woman.

“Of course,” the older woman nodded, stepping back from the crib. “Will you be needing me any longer?”

“I do not believe so,” the other woman smiled as she leaned down to pick up the squirming prince. “I thank you though, for taking care of Prince Aerion for me.”

“Of course,” Meg returned the smile as Keeley looked over at her, “if I am ever needed, I am always happy to help.”

“Get some rest while you can,” Keeley advised, bouncing Aerion gently as she walked towards their usual spot, sinking down into the chair.

Meg bid them both goodbye and left as the other wet nurse tended to the babe, getting him to latch with relative ease. Sighing, the woman leaned back, relaxing as Prince Aerion took his fill; she was grateful her chest was no longer as tender as when she first woke up, and that as always she had an oversupply of milk. It was still a startling revelation–the king desiring that sort of comfort, his mouth greedy and seeking as he had nuzzled into her chest last night. She would not begrudge him his vices however, as she supposed it was one of the more tamer kinks a man of his character could possess.

“Keeley,” the sound of Ser Draven’s voice pulled the woman from her thoughts, head turning to face the sworn sword, who had begun to blush at the sight before him upon entering.

“Apologies,” he murmured, turning his gaze away from the woman and the babe, “I did not know–”

“No need for your apologies,” Keeley interjected, waving dismissively before her hand once more settled at the back of Prince Aerion’s head. “Did you sleep well, ser?”

When Ser Draven needed his rest, a knight by the name of Marcus Sweet would take over; he was a younger man, shy and respectful when he and Keeley would cross paths, though it was not very often as he usually remained outside the prince’s chamber doors.

“I will admit,” Ser Draven replied, “I found it hard to sleep. I could not stop thinking about you and….and–”

“The king,” Keeley raised a dark eyebrow at him, gaze somewhat amused at his fumbling.

“Well….yes,” the man admitted, gripping the pommel of his sword. “I did not relish the thought of him….of him–”

“He did not hurt me, Ser,” the woman assured him, turning back to Aerion as the boy’s eyes softly fluttered closed once more.

“You are sure?” Ser Draven frowned.

“I am,” Keeley hummed, lifting her gaze once more to his own; she offered him a resolute smile, “I did as our king bid me to, Ser Draven, and I do not believe had he thought me unwilling that he would have continued.”

Ser Draven took a moment to respond, clearing his throat as he gazed down at his boots, “how can one be willing when one can not truly say no?”

“It would be wise to keep those words between us,” the wet nurse advised with a sigh, leaning her head back as tiredness began to finally settle in. “Besides, it was not so awful–lying with the king; he made it good for the both of us, I assure you.”

She heard the knight snort and then give a dry chuckle, shifting in his armor as he finally relaxed.

“I believe I did not need to be privy to such intimate information, my lady.”

“And I believe I have told you before, ser,” Keeley smirked, eyes still closed, “I am no lady.”

The pair shared a chuckle, the ease in which they joked with each other a testament of the bond they had developed over the months of caring for their charge. Had Ser Draven been a different man, he would have never given a wet nurse like Keeley a second glance, he would simply do his duty and never utter so much of a word to the Lorathi woman. Yet, kind and respectful spirit that he was, Ser Draven had been brought up by a strong woman who had taught him that every person–from the highest lord to the lowest servant–held value; were the two woman more comparable in age, the Kingsguard might be reminded of his mother more often in the way in which Keeley carried herself; the woman had an endurance about her, a will of perseverance they had seen her from the impoverished streets of Lorath and across the sea to the Red Keep.

“So,” she hummed as they settled from their bouts of laughter, “shall we take the prince to the gardens later on? It is quite a lovely day outside.”

“As you wish,” Ser Draven smirked, “my lady.”

Keeley cracked open an eye to glare at the man playfully, smiling as she spoke, “be thankful I am beholden to a child right now, ser.”

---------- ☾ ----------

“𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐃 the last time we spoke we had all agreed that the topic of me remarrying was no longer up for discussion,” Aemond gritted out.

“It was, your grace,” Lord Edric cleared his throat, “but–”

“Then why have I just received word that my cousins make way for the Red Keep in two weeks time?” The king snapped, slamming his hands on the table as he looked around the table of uneasy faces.

“It is not what you think, my king,” Lord Alyn sighed, looking defeated as he rose from his seat. “It is true that I have called for my wife and her sister to come to court–”

“Of course you did,” Aemond snorted. “Lord Alyn, I would remind you–”

“However,” the Lord of Driftmark interjected boldly, unflinching under the king’s accusing glare, “it is not what you believe it to be.”

“Then please,” the Targaryen man waved a hand, plopping back into his seat, leaning both elbows on the table as he stared with one unblinking eye, “enlighten me as to why my cousins have been summoned without my permission.”

Alyn hummed, seemingly unbothered by Aemond’s petulant behavior as he once more took his seat as well. Clearing his throat, he looked at his fellow lords before once more looking to their king:

“I have given Lady Rhaena leave to marry Ser Corwyn Corbray in three moons time; though correspondence has not yet been received, I imagine Ser Corbray also makes way for King’s Landing to greet  his betrothed.”

“Why was I not informed of this?” Aemond grunted. “It is not as if I would disapprove of something I have been telling you to do this entire time.”

“Well,” Alyn hesitated, “there are other matters my wife and her sister wish to discuss upon their arrival in the capital.”

“Is there now?” Aemond’s eyes narrowed as he took note of the way the lord uncomfortably avoided his gaze. “And what could they possibly expect to accomplish other than seeing Lady Rhaena married?”

“Your grace,” Lord Hendrick interjected, “perhaps we should wait for the ladies to arrive to–”

The Lannister man trailed off under the scrutinizing glare the Targaryen threw his way, sinking once more back into his spot as he threw Alyn a sympathetic nod. The Velaryon did not back down under the king’s suspicion and anger, instead meeting it tenfold with his own indignation. The Hand sat taller in his chair, meeting his grace head on as he spoke,

“It is the intention of Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena to petition his highness for the safe and welcomed return of Prince Aegon Targaryen from his wardship in the North, so that he may be raised alongside his brother, Prince Viserys.”

Silence fell over the council, suffocating and all encompassing as the masters exchanged uneasy looks, wondering if their cohort had lost his mind. In his thus far short rule as king, Aemond had made his opinion on the matter of his half-sister’s sons quite clear–wanting them out of sight and far from the Iron Throne. Separating them had been intentional, not only to wound but to also lessen the chances of a conspiracy to unfold by the remnants of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s supporters. It had been the popular opinion amongst his advisors to simply execute the boys so that the threat would be permanently gone, but to everyone’s shock the newly crowned monarch had not wished to start his reign with more senseless kinslaying. He’d had his fill of it with Lucerys, and even that had been too much.

Though Aemond Targaryen may detest the reminders his nephews served as, he did not wish them any harm–not really. In another life, he may have been a true uncle to them, same with their elder brothers, whose deaths even to this day haunted the man. It was no use, though, in wishing things had turned out different, for in this life King Aemond was only one thing in the eyes of his remaining family and his subjects–a kinslayer.

And if he could not have a rule of peace and forgiveness, he would have one of fear and fire.

“King Aemond–” Maester Oberon began.

“Enough!” He ordered, slamming his fist on the table, causing many at it to jump in their seats; his singular eye once more raised to lock back on the cause of all his ire and frustrations–

Lord Alyn Velaryon–for too long the baseborn son of Lord Corlys Velaryon had prodded and urged King Aemond towards decisions that benefited his own blood, his own house. Rarely was it that the man made any decision that did not benefit himself and his own, and though Aemond raved and he threatened, he had let it go on for far too long–with no real consequence.

Until now.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond calmed the dragonfire racing through his veins and lifted his head to address his council. He hummed, eyes never wavering from Alyn’s as he spoke,

“Very well, the ladies Baela and Rhaena may have their time before the court to make their case for their brother. I will have rooms befitting their stations made up for them in Maegor’s Holdfast–in fact, I will also have a feast arranged to celebrate their visit. Lord Hendrick, I believe you are more than capable of ensuring the details are taken care of for this feast in time for my cousins’ arrival?”

“Uh….of course, your grace,” the golden-haired man bowed his head, frowning as he looked at his grace in surprise.

“Good,” Aemond plastered a smile on his face, though there was no warmth to it as he address Lord Edric next, “as Master of Laws, I will leave it to you to organize the court proceedings–make sure word is sent out to those who would like to be present for my final ruling.”

His eye cut over to Alyn, who coughed, “your grace, I believe as your Hand I am more than capable of–”

“Nonsense,” the king waved his hand dismissively, “I would not have you waste time on such trivial matters when you will be far too busy preparing for your wife and good sister. In fact, I believe it will be for the best that Lord Edric take over your duties for the time being, to ensure you have plenty of time with your family.”

It was a punishment, everyone within the council chambers could see that plain as day, but none were able to give word to what it really was. Not even Lord Alyn, who with a stiff nod, replied,

“Of course, your grace, I….I thank you for your thoughtfulness. When….when may I return to my duties.”

“When I have decided that you may,” Aemond smirked, “I would not want to arrest you too soon from my beloved cousins’ side.”

Again, all Alyn could do was respond with a stiff nod, bowing his head in defeat as quiet once more fell over the council members.

“Now, with that settled, I believe that is all we have for the day gentlemen,” the king pushed back from his chair, standing tall as he folded his hands behind his back; his eye measured each and everyone of his council members, and each and every one of them squirmed under his cold stare. Finally, he hummed, “you are all dismissed.”

This time he did not hold Lord Alyn back, watching as the man followed his fellow cohorts out of the room, not sparing Aemond even so much of a glance

Good, perhaps he will finally learn who is the king and who is the advisor, the Targaryen thought to himself as watched the door close behind the last lord.

“Boy,” he ordered like always.

“My king,” the cupbearer stepped forward, gripping the pitcher of wine, “shall I summon Lady Rhysling again?”

“No, not this time,” Aemond hummed, peering down at the boy whose name he had never bothered to learn. “I would like you to go to the nursery, let Ser Draven Stokeworth know that I request my son’s wet nurse be brought to my solar as soon as possible.”

“O-of course,” the boy muttered unsurely, surprise evident in his eyes as he bowed, “my king.”

With that the cupbearer departed, the pitcher of Arbor red left on in its usual place on the buffet table, covered in a spread of untouched foods. Apparently, none of Aemond’s advisors had felt much like eating that day–

What a waste of food, he thought to himself as he turned and strode from the room.

---------- ☾ ----------

𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 neither Ser Draven nor Keeley were to be found in the nursery, which meant that neither was his son. The cupbearer had delivered the news, uneasily gauging the king’s reaction as Aemond gripped a cup of wine tightly in his hand. His anger at his son’s whereabouts being unknown only subsided when the boy quickly added he had inquired about the keep and his fellow servants claimed to have seen the named heir and his attendees making their way toward the gardens.

His poorly disguised panic assuaged, Aemond dismissed the boy and downed the rest of his wine, discarding the empty goblet onto the table in his solar next to a full cup of the stuff. He had been anticipating Keeley’s company in his chambers, eager to have her once more after the events of last night and what had just transpired in the council room. His body was wound up, fire still pulsing through his veins at Lord Alyn’s audacity to once more orchestrate an event Aemond had made explicitly clear was an already settled matter. This was not the first time he had been pressed as king to be merciful towards the remaining members of the Targaryen bloodline, if not for them or himself but for the future of the house of the dragon.

There were those who would have him marry his niece to Aegon the Younger, to once more unite the fractured bloodlines of their family and bring forth a new generation of dragons. Many believed that was why eggs would no longer hatch, because the yet born dragonlings could sense the fragile foundation in which their potential riders resided upon. Though there was merit to their concerns, Aemond was often too stubborn to pay them much attention, but with his cousins’ upcoming petition in front of the court it would not be long before he had to seriously consider the future of the royal family.

For now though, he freshened up from the strenuous council meeting and made his way to the royal gardens in search of his son–and his wet nurse.

He nodded and greeted the lords and ladies that frequented his court, though it was only out of obligation he gave them the time of day. They disgusted him if he was being honest, their eyes and fake smiles brimming with barely contained ambition, mirrors to a grandfather who in the past years Aemond had grown to resent. It was Otto Hightower after all who had put into motion the Dance of the Dragons, were it not for him his grandchildren may have lived in relative peace had the man not poisoned his daughter–the queen’s–mind.

Upon entering the gardens it was not hard to find his son, Aemond simply had to follow the sound of laughter and he found him among the calla lilies and snapdragons. With a blanket laid out across the damp grass, Keeley kneeled upon it with the prince in her hands. The babe’s bottom was settled in her lap, one of the wet nurse’s hands rested on his lower back while the other one supported his fragile neck. The woman was making faces down at Aerion, causing the infant to gurgle in glee as he wriggled in her hold. Off to the side, Ser Draven stood at the attention, ever the faithful guard dog as he watched over the heir to the Iron Throne and by association the woman known as Keeley.

As his son giggled, Aemond watched in almost awe as Keeley smiled down at the boy; it was a smile filled with warmth and something akin to maternal love, and it had the king frozen to the spot as he watched the scene unfold before him. Unfortunately, he did not go unnoticed for long as the Lorathi woman soon took inventory of her surroundings, brown eyes landing on the dark imposing figure that was his grace.

“My king,” Keeley’s smile faded, lips settling into a nervous frown as she shifted where she knelt, looking as if to stand up.

“Do not move,” Aemond ordered calmly, striding further into the area of the gardens they had claimed for themselves.

“Your grace,” Ser Draven greeted, bowing his head in respect.

Aemond did not bother to acknowledge the knight, instead taking in the sight before him with an almost unsettling calmness to him. His singular eye landed on his son, so small yet full of life as he grizzled happily in his wet nurse’s arms. Prince Aerion at three months of age had already grown quite a bit from his original size after being born; he had a healthy flush of red across his pale cheeks, his hair a soft pale tuft, and his eyes were already fading from baby blue to Targaryen violet. Queen Floris had certainly taken her charge to produce a true Targaryen heir to heart, putting all the love she could never give her husband into the creation of their only child.

Not for the first time, Aemond felt a tenderness toward his late wife, the slightest pang of sadness hitting him when he once more realized she would never get to see their son grow; she would never get to see her son become king.

It was an unwelcome thought, one the current king batted away as he stopped at the edge of the blanket that had been laid down. Keeley regarded him nervously, it was clear in the unsure shift of her eyes and body, as if she did not know what to do with herself in his presence. The idea pleased Aemond, a small smirk gracing his face as he addressed the woman,

“How fare you this day, Keeley?” He inquired.

“I am well, your grace,” Keeley hummed with carefully crafted ease, adjusting Aerion’s weight in her arms, “as is the prince.”

“Good,” the man nodded. “And this morning? I am sure Maester Oberon took good care of you, yes?”

He was baiting her, trying to fish for a reaction–for anything that might indicate she was thinking of last night too. It was truly delicious to see the blush beginning to spread across her cheeks and column of her neck.

“He did, your grace,” Keeley could not meet his eye, instead looking down at the pattern of the blanket as she quietly awaited the king’s next question. “Thank you for sending him.”

“You are most welcome, Keeley,” he loved the taste of her name on his tongue, the sound of it to his ears. If he were to be honest with himself and with her, he found most everything about her to be alluring. He desired her in a way he had not felt since Alys in Harrenhal, even then the two did not feel even close to comparable; he had wanted Alys in a purely selfish manner, a true testament of his conquering of Harrenhal–his spoil of war. And she in turn had used him to her own benefit, attempting to sire a baseborn son that might rise to claim the Iron Throne one day. Aemond, lost in what he had believed to be love–a toxic attachment but love all the same–had been willing to give her just that.

When proof of her witchery was revealed not long after the end of the war, and the babe that resided in her stomach proven not to be his by her own admission, Aemond did not so much as hesitate when he ordered her execution. He had given her the mercy of waiting until her child was born, a plain girl–dark of hair and eye–who had been sent off to be raised by the Silent Sisters. It was not even a week after the girl’s birth that Aemond had Alys tied to a stake and set a blaze–a befitting death for an accursed witch. For all her scheming, Alys had not begged in the end, she had simply stared into Aemond’s eyes as her pyre was lit–a knowing smile on her face as the fire licked at the hem of her dress, slowly encasing her in its unforgiving flames; sometimes, the king’s nightmares were filled with the sounds of her screams.

With Keeley, there was still a possessiveness to his desire, the want to own and claim something he was not supposed to have. Having been raised by his mother to believe in the Faith of the Seven, Aemond had long ago resigned himself to a life of sin. He had long ago given up the hope for forgiveness for he knew there was none to be had, so why waste his breath on unanswered prayers when he could simply take what he wants?

And he wanted Keeley, he wanted Keeley in a way he could not explain, like a deep unknown ache in the pit of stomach–the only cure to be had between her thighs. Her softness had been intoxicating, the way she had been so pliable in his arms last night as he took as he pleased. And in the aftermath, with Aemond for once allowing his bedmate to hold him afterwards, he had felt safe–an almost wave of contentment settling upon his usually hardened heart.

He was not foolish to believe his feelings ran any deeper than carnal desires, but he would admit with Keeley it was different with his other bed warmers. He need look no further than with Lady Aenora Rhysling, lady wife of Ser Amos Rhysling, brother to the current lord of their house, for comparison.

Not allowing himself to get too deep into his thoughts, the king hummed, hands folded behind his back as he peered down at Keeley and his son, who was beginning to fuss.

“Apologies, your grace,” the woman supplied, turning her attention back to the boy, “it is time for his next feeding it would seem.”

“Very well,” Aemond nodded, “I will leave you to your duties–for now–but I do expect you once more in my chambers tonight, understood?”

His eye flicked up as his son’s sworn sword shifted, armor clanking noticeable as his gaze fixed on the king. Aemond could see the discontentment there, the carefully concealed anger as he looked between the Targaryen and the wet nurse disapprovingly. He wanted to say something, to defend his friend, but even he could not save her from the king’s orders.

“My king,” Keeley hesitated as she adjusted the fussy babe in her arms, preparing to nurse as she shifted from her knees to her bum, “I would not like to pull Meg away from her duties once more, she does not….she does not produce as much as me.”

“Then we will find my son another wet nurse who has plenty to spare,” Aemond stated as if it were the most obvious solution.

“But I worry about Aerion’s feeding being changed so often,” Keeley again argued. “I fear it could impact the prince’s health–”

“Enough,” the pale-haired man interjected coldly, eye narrowing at the woman, whose mouth was agape with unsaid words. “I am sure the maester will alert me if anything changes about my son’s health, if that is to become the case we will re-evaluate at that time. For now, I expect you in my chambers–tonight–do you understand?”

Keeley hesitated, unsureness heavy in her eyes before she gave him a jerky nod, “yes, of course, your grace.”

“Good,” he smiled, pleased at her easy acquiesce to his demands. “I shall send Beryl to prepare you with a fresh gown after dinner–do not keep me waiting.”

With one last satisfied smirk thrown at Ser Draven, Aemond turned on his heel and began to walk away but not before stopping one more time.

“Oh, and in the future, I expect to be informed when you wish to take my son outside the castle walls,” he spoke without looking back; not waiting for a response, he continued to walk away until he was swallowed whole by the rose bushes.

[callipraxia]

oh!!! this is a few hours later, but i also wanted to ask what the lost-but-recently-revived project actually is, because i've never thought to ask in an ask box until now. when my tablet is dead. eugh. it must've been mentioned before, but if you'd like to say more, i'd love to learn about it!!! i feel like i've been talking too much about my own things lately, and i wanna read about others', specifically yours >:] (i remember something about gideon and the axolotl, but that might have been a different project---regardless that sounds whimsy af) if you dont feel like it or anything, you can ignore this :^

The lost project actually hadn’t been discussed much, if at all; it’s a post-canon one-shot where Stan and Ford go back to Glass Shard Beach, reasoning that Stan probably needs to see the place again for the good of his memory and that Ford should probably pay some form of respects to their deceased parents. Stan has a video camera. He ends up documenting just how much everything has changed. He and Ford have Feelings about this, and then they run into someone unexpected. It’s...hardly high drama, so it probably doesn’t make sense that it’s taken this long to start rewriting it, but so it goes with my short pieces.

The Gideon thing is a spinoff/sequel to FWJB I’m considering – specifically, what happened to him after the final battle. It begins ten years later, with Gideon waking up to discover that someone appears to have recently jammed the majority of a tube of drugged lipstick down his throat. Since said lipstick would knock someone unconscious and induce mild amnesia in a much smaller quantity, it’s done a real job on him, which leaves him trying to figure out where he is, how long he’s been there, who drugged him, why that person drugged him, and, in fact, most of who he is – he knows his name is Gideon, he knows he should really not tell anyone that, and very little else. Not even why it’s so important to hide his identity.

Naturally, once he figures even a tiny bit of that information out, he promptly finds himself with even worse problems than he started with.

Other ideas...what the heck, I might as well talk about them a bit, not least to, er, document them in some fashion. Been thinking that writing them down might be a good idea anyway, so here we go:

1) You once suggested I kill Ford and make Stan have feelings about it. I’ve started that one, too; it’s the one I wrote down a lot of and then typed up and then lost...last week? Week before last? Week before last, I think. In this sad little universe, Ford manages to break his neck and die like six months after Weirdmageddon. Stan takes this poorly.

2) In other possible returns to old stomping grounds, I’m intrigued by the idea of going further into how Agent Trigger, of all people, somehow managed to slip under the radar, climb the ranks of the DFSI, and end up recruiting Dipper. Similarly, I’d like to do at least a short return to the IG Epilogue situation, if I can think of a good plot for it beyond Dipper’s initial reaction to “...did that guy really just take his face off like a pair off sunglasses and call me by name??” Plus, of course, if I’m ever in a fluff mood, I gotta write what happened when Soos made good on his promise to loan Ford the deeveedees.

3) Road trip time with Fiddleford and the Stan Twins! What could possibly go wrong?

4) So, Powers. Tell us more about how your agency spotted signals from Gravity Falls thirty years ago. What did you guys do then?

5) Writing more of McGucket’s memoirs, and/or the horror novel about the building of the Portal that I’ve had in mind, and/or a between-the-episodes incident where Fiddleford, struggling to remember who the Author was and why he’s so darn difficult to remember, convinces Tate to talk to him about the past, resulting in them going over a bunch of letters Emma-May had kept and Fiddleford struggling to figure out what was real vs what he was lying about, all while he and Tate are having feels (and sometimes explosive arguments) in the present.

6) Some college years stuff. I have vague ideas for something about the construction of the mind-control tie, and for something else about That One Time Fiddleford Convinced Ford To Come With Him To Tennessee Over The Holidays.

7) More angsty one-shots...stuff like Stan pretending to be Ford at Filbrick’s funeral, and the first day Ford went back to high school by himself, and some stuff with small Tate, and...you get the picture.

8) I will admit this only because of your current tagline – I, too, have entertained the idea that Stan has actually read Moby Dick. Specifically, that in his last months in school, he and Ford ended up in separate classes for part of the day because Ford was taking calculus or something, resulting in Stan having to take the standard-issue American Lit class by himself, and the teacher essentially annoying him into making a good-(ish; it is Stan we’re talking about) faith effort to do his book report properly...only for it to all end on the most depressing note possible, of course. I’ve told myself I cannot actually write this, but… *shrugs*

9) Early in his years in Gravity Falls, Stan visits the library. The librarian is someone he finds attractive. Somehow, one thing leads to another and he finds himself being strong-armed into helping with the town science fair, despite a) him not really being a scientist, only playing one in front of tourists and b) his very specific hatred of science fairs.

10) It is September. Everyone is going back to school. Wendy discovers that Tracey and Quattro exist. This is the one that had me complaining about how I missed the apocalypse not long ago – it’s harder to 99% ignore their infatuation with her in a lower-stakes scenario, and I have no idea how to handle that.

11) It is the academic year. Pacifica struggles to deal with her new social milieu.

12) Some other AU ideas...mostly “what if someone didn’t think of [clever thing] in time” disaster scenarios. There’s also the Better World AU, where...let’s just say it’s not a very nice place at all, at least for some people.

So, there you are! It’s...the majority of the ideas floating around my head at the moment. Some could merge together into one project. Some might not ever see the light of day. But I’ve got plenty of material to work with, just have to get my head back in order for writing, and I’m pleased to say that my head is getting closer to order by the day.

[bt5bby]

Hello 👋🏻

I will spare you the long reason why this story took me forever… but I finally got it into the editing website I use which was my biggest hurdle for 2 months. 😅 (sorry if it’s a bit disjointed too)

Anyway, here is Namjoonie’s story… Lonely.

Warning ⚠️ - Graphic child birth, Mpreg, mentions of rape and sexual slavery(kinda), mention of threats/violence, sick children.

————————————————————————

Namjoon heaved against the bed posts. His body was ready to give in and pass out, but he knew he couldn't. He had to continue to work hard, holding his legs in the correct position and using all his strength.

Oh, how he wished he had someone else here. He didn't want to do this alone. He wanted someone holding his hand, encouraging him, telling him how well he was doing and that it was nearly over. He wished he didn't have to do this in his crappy apartment, hours away from anyone he knew.

He wanted to be at a hospital, safe and secure. People tell him what to do and how to do it. He wanted to ensure everything would be ok, but he wasn't at a hospital. He didn't have anyone around him to help, and he didn't know if everything was ok. He was alone, giving birth to his baby in a dank apartment in a city far away from his home.

He screamed again, feeling the pain of a contraction. He had been at it for hours, pushing as hard as he could but not finding any real progress. When the pain stopped, he laid his head back again, struggling to catch his breath between sobs.

All he could do was cry. Cry and wait for the next contraction, which wasn't far away, and then start pushing again. The pain was worse than he imagined, but he was determined to do this. He chose to keep his baby, and now he would bring it to life, even if it killed him.

He pleaded with it internally as if the baby could hear him while in his body. 'Please come out. I can't take much more!' He screamed again, the next contraction clenching his muscles to push the baby out of his body.

Before he was in the mid stages of his labour, he walked around the house, thinking just how lucky he was that his baby was tiny. The nurse he saw last told him that he was a bit underweight.

Namjoon regretted doing all he could to ensure his baby was born at an average weight for those last two months. He was sure that the baby must have grown into a bowling ball or something because as he felt the head starting to push his hole open, he swore he nearly tore it in half.

The scream that left his mouth was so shrill he was sure it had set off the dog 10 blocks over. Namjoon was just thankful that the place he lived in was so poor that none cared enough to call the police. They would all just ignore him.

With the next push, Namjoon felt his hole stretch around the broadest part of the baby's head. He must be so close to crowning. Namjoon was sure he could feel the top of the baby's head on the next push. He wept more, hearing another ding from his phone beside him.

He had turned off all GPS and signals, routing the location to a different place every few days to make it look like he was constantly moving, but he kept it on. He had never changed his number, just in case he needed something. Just in case he decided to go back.

The noise drew his attention away momentarily, and he looked at the phone. As much as he had it, he didn't really use it. In fact, it had been several weeks since he unlocked it. He didn't need to do everything he could on his phone; he could do it on his laptop, which was much harder to track. He looked at the phone screen light up, seeing a message from another of his old band members.

They had been piling up for a long time, showing all on the notifications board on his phone. Six individual chats pinging away over time. He had read each one and never replied, but he read them all. They made his heart hurt every time, but he wouldn't stop. He liked to torture himself. He cried a little harder reading the message from his friends.

"I still don't even know if you are reading these, but it makes me feel better." The text read. "I don't know what happened, and I don't know why, but know that wherever you are, I'm always here, right where you left me."

Namjoon screamed again, the next contraction ripping through his body again. He sent a hand down to feel between his legs, the baby's head was now sticking out slightly, and he could feel the hair on its head. "I miss you, and wherever you are, I hope you're safe and happy." He finished.

Namjoon hiccuped his sobs from his chest. He tried so hard to calm his breathing, but now the added stress of the message really made him feel lightheaded. Just thinking about the boy made Namjoon's heart flutter.

He was at a loss for words, but that could have been the intense pain making him numb to all thinking. He mentally replied to the message, pouring his heart out until the next contraction came. This time Namjoon pushed his very hardest. He felt slightly more determined to get his baby out.

The boys had always strengthened him, even when they weren't there. With the force of the push, he managed to get most of the head out. He felt a tear as the baby reached the widest part of its skull, but he powered through it. It didn't even hurt, not compared to the rest of it. He doubled down, his contractions seeming much quicker after such a hard push, the pressure coming again.

Namjoon felt the baby's nose pop out, pushing past his tight rim. He was also relieved that the baby hadn't inherited his chin. He barely felt it pop out. Once the whole head was out, Namjoon gave himself a rest. He had seen many birth videos online, and most of them got the mother to wait after pushing the head out, not pushing in that contraction, but god, was it hard.

Every fibre in his body pleaded with him to get the big intrusion out of his body. "Ok, just a few more." He cheered to himself out loud.

He breathed through the first contraction, struggling to keep his pushes at bay, but he did it. Now it was time for the baby to get the fuck out. He pushed as hard as he could. He gently turned the baby, angling the shoulders to not hurt the arms.

Namjoon had been mortified when he saw some babies come out with dislocated shoulders. He couldn't let that happen. He would keep his baby safe.

The final contractions really hit hard for the once-great leader. He screamed for the next three, pushing as hard as possible. He felt the small baby slide out of his body, and a loud wail erupted from the tiny creature.

Namjoon sobbed a little harder, hearing his baby. He wasn't sure if it was relief or just his emotional outlet, but when he reached forward and picked the blood-covered thing up, he and it just sat for a few minutes, crying.

The new father took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and started to rock his baby. He still wasn't finished yet, and he knew it. He had to push the placenta out, cut the umbilical cord and make sure he wasn't bleeding to death all before he could stay with his baby, but calming them down for a few seconds wouldn't hurt.

He waited until the crying died and then sat the small thing to his side on a towel he had placed beforehand. He wrapped them up, so they were warm and then went back to pushing the placenta out. It took him another few minutes, but once he was sure it was mostly out, he used the cord to pull the rest, letting out a tiny wail once it left his body. He was so sore. Everything ached, and he was so tired.

All he wanted to do was cry. Cry and hug his baby and have someone hug him. God, he missed his friends and his family. He didn't want to be alone, but he had to. The baby let out another whimper, and he quickly picked it back up. He'd come to realise he was never alone.

Finally, he could have a good look at his little bundle. He looked down at the baby, cooing instantly. The small little nose, soft lips, and puffy eyes were all adorable to him. He moved the towel to get a good look at the baby.

He had never found out the gender when he got his scan. He felt bad for neglecting the health problems of not checking the baby properly, but he couldn't risk going to the hospital more than once.

They would report him if they picked up on who he really was. He would have to go back, and he couldn't. So now was the first time he would know his baby's gender. He took a deep breath, trying not to think about how creepy it felt to look at his baby's privates purposefully and look.

He let out a happy cry seeing his baby girl. He had a little girl. He moved her closer to his chest, making sure she remained warm. "Hello, baby." He chuckled wetly. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm your Appa."

He didn't know whether to call himself an Appa, but he couldn't see himself as anything else. This wasn't supposed to be his life, but with his little girl in his arms, he couldn't regret it.

-

It took Namjoon a few days to get used to life with a baby now. It was hard for him because he was doing it alone.

He was sleep deprived, hungry from not having time or energy to go out to get food for himself, and a bit grotty because nipping off to shower couldn't happen, but he was trying his best. He had been sore the first two days, just staying around his room, looking after the baby and laying in bed.

He couldn't really do much anyways because he couldn't leave. He barely kept the two alive for the first week, but things felt better for the second week.

He set the little girl down for a sleep on the seventh day and quickly nipped in for a shower. The feeling of water on his skin was amazing but short-lived, as he had to get back out before she woke up. He ordered groceries online and delivered them to the apartment, and once he managed all that, he got a good night's sleep. His little girl had been wonderful the whole time.

He was so happy with her until the third week arrived. It started off on the Tuesday night of the third week. The little thing seemed fussy throughout her dinner, making Namjoon anxious.

She didn't have much, and then she was quiet until the two had been asleep for about 35 minutes. A loud wail emitted from her tiny lungs, alerting her Appa.

Namjoon shot awake, bolting to the baby. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?" He cooed, picking her up. He checked her nappy, seeing if it needed to be changed. No, so he figured she was hungry again. She hadn't eaten before, so he tried to feed her, but she didn't take to that either. He frowned. Maybe she needed to burp again?

He laid her over his shoulder, patting her back, but again nothing came up. Finally, he figured she just wanted some soothing. He began to rock her back and forth, swaying his hips to keep her calm. "Shhhh baby, Appa's got you." He said sweetly.

She continued to wail until she was exhausted, pretty much passing out. Namjoon sighed and laid her down in the crib. He wondered what must have been wrong, but he figured maybe she was just fussy tonight. Maybe something disagreed with her. He noted to keep an eye on her the next day and then went back to sleep.

Namjoon started to panic on the third day of this. For the second day, she seemed to be mostly fine like the day before, just a bit whiny. On the third day, however, she really started to fuss.

Right from the moment she awoke at 5 in the morning, she started wailing. Namjoon rushed to her side, quick to soothe her, offering food and cuddles. The baby quieted but never really stopped her whining.

Every little thing seemed to set her off, and she would scream loudly, ensuring everyone on the whole level could hear her.

Namjoon was starting to become stressed and worried. Was there something wrong with his baby? Had he hurt her in some way? He thought he was doing well. He tried his hardest not to become upset but lost the battle.

He managed to get her down for a small nap in the middle of the day, probably out of exhaustion again, allowing him time to calm himself, but it hit its peak at around 6 in the night.

She screamed and screamed, crying and wriggling around in his arms. Her little face was scrunched up, with tears running down her red face. He felt like he had hit a wall, his emotions bursting as he cried. "I'm sorry! I don't know what you need." He sobbed along with her.

He was rocking back and forth again, trying to soothe her with a dummy, but she kept spitting it out.

"I've tried everything." Namjoon pleaded with the baby. He was beyond worried about his little one, the stress eating him inside. The final straw was a loud thumping on the wall beside his bedroom. "Shut that fucking baby up, or I'll come and shut it up for you!" A person yelled. Namjoon only cried harder along with his baby.

Great, even the druggies think he's a bad parent.

He had to do something for her. She was clearly suffering for some reason, and he couldn't fix it alone. He had avoided the hospital at all costs, but now he had to take the risk. He couldn't lose his baby.

Namjoon packed a bag of overnight things for him and the baby and then strapped her into a carrier. He pulled out his phone, which he had turned off for several days, and called for an Uber. He ignored the pings on his phone as he quickly ordered the car to take him to the hospital and then went to the curb to wait.

It was now in the middle of winter, so he wrapped the baby in two blankets while dressing her in a thick onesie, a beanie, little mittens and some thick socks. He pulled the cover-up over the carrier, ensuring no wind blew into her face.

He had an old jacket on. It was a bit tight as he still had a lot of baby fat, but he didn't care about himself. He would take his jacket off if his baby needed more cover.

Thankfully, the man quickly arrived, helping Namjoon strap the car seat in and start to drive. The car was warm inside, so Namjoon pulled the blankets down to try and calm the baby again. Her cries were still loud but not as bad as before.

"Is she ok?" The driver asked worriedly. Namjoon sniffled. "I don't know. I'm gonna take her to the hospital." He admitted. The man nodded, telling Namjoon he would get them there quickly but safely.

Namjoon greatly appreciated it and then went back to comforting his girl. The man kept true to his word, and they were at the hospital no less than 20 minutes later.

Namjoon thanked the man, giving him a nice tip for being so helpful and then rushed into the ICU. He moved to the reception and placed the carrier on the desk. "Hello, how may I help you?" The lady asked.

Namjoon looked at her with a red face and teary eyes. "Hi, I need someone to check up on my baby. She has been crying nonstop all day, and I don't know what she needs. She won't eat as much, only sleeps if she's worn out completely, and she just doesn't stop crying." He rushed, feeling very agitated. He wanted her looked after right now.

"Can you tell me how old she is?" The lady asked, standing up to look in at the small baby, crying in the carrier. "She's just under four weeks old," Namjoon said. "And was she born ok? Early or anything?"

Namjoon didn't know, but he was sure she was born around when she was supposed to be. "She was born around 37 weeks." He admitted. The lady said that was fine.

She looked over at the little one, not seeing anything wrong, but she could tell that the crying wasn't just a hungry or tired cry.

"Alright, have you been to this hospital before?" Namjoon stilled. He would have to give their information. "No, I haven't." He said.

The lady nodded. "Ok, I'll need you to fill out some forms and get some information about your previous consultant so we can cross-check for a better diagnosis, but I have put you through to the NICU, and they will look after her immediately."

Namjoon nodded thankfully to the lady. He grabbed the board with the forms on it and then followed her to the NICU. A nurse approached them once they entered the wing and took Namjoon's baby from him.

"Follow me, sweetie. I'll check on her." The lady smiled at Namjoon. He did as told and moved into the room, sitting on a chair anxiously as the lady began to assess the baby. "You fill out those forms, and I'll do a quick exam of this little one." She smiled down at the little girl.

Namjoon nodded and hesitantly began to fill the forms out. He knew he would have to show ID, so lying was pointless. He really just wanted his baby to be ok. He filled the form out quickly and then placed it to the side, moving to stand by his child.

"She seemed to have shallow breathing. Did you say she was born early?" The lady asked. Namjoon shook his head. "I'm fairly sure she was born around 37 weeks." The lady frowned. "And you said that she hasn't been feeding right either?" Namjoon nodded.

"She'll take for a little while and then stop. She's only had like 3 feeds in the last day." Namjoon worried. The nurse nodded and looked back down, putting on her stethoscope and listening to the baby's breathing. "How long has she been like this?" She asked.

Namjoon sighed. "She started to fuss two days ago, but only today has she been really bad. She ate fine most of the time, maybe briefly, but then stopped today."

The nurse took a mental note and then stood up. "It seems like she's got some respiratory problems. I'll need to take an X-ray of her chest to make sure nothing is stuck. I'll start her on some oxygen to keep her breathing normal. I'll need to ask some questions about your birth and history." The lady said.

Namjoon felt anxious, but he had to find out what was wrong. He would give all the information he needed to get his baby girl healthy again. The nurse left to set up the oxygen machine and hand in the forms Namjoon had filled out.

-

The nurse in reception filled out the information in the system. She looked over the previous physician's list and found it empty. She frowned, wondering why he would have left it empty. "I'm going back in now. Can you page me when the X-ray is available?" The other nurse said. The lady nodded and went back to her job.

-

Namjoon watched as the lady taped a breathing tube onto his baby's face, keeping the tube in her nose. "This will help. Then we can discover the main problem once she's back to normal breathing." The nurse smiled calmly at Namjoon, making him feel better. He thanked her, relieved.

"So, I have some questions about what might be wrong." Namjoon nodded and looked at the lady. "The birth, was it problematic in any way?" Namjoon hung his head.

"Yes, it was quite stressful." He admitted. The lady nodded. "Was there anything wrong with her at the time? No breathing problems. The cord wasn't around her throat?"

"No, she was fine when she was born." The lady scrunched her nose, thinking for a moment. "What did the doctor say at her first check-up?" She asked. Namjoon awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his girl.

"She hasn't gone for a check-up. This is her first one." He knew it sounded bad, but they had been doing well... The lady looked at him concerned.

"She was supposed to have a check at 3-5 days? Didn't your previous doctor tell you that when you got released after the birth?" Namjoon shook his head. "I had her at my house. T-there wasn't a nurse there." He made his tone soft, nearly a whisper.

"What?" She asked, a bit surprised at what she thought she had heard. "I had her by myself at my house. I couldn't make it to a doctor." The nurse was stunned. She wondered how the man had managed all by himself and why he hadn't taken the baby to a hospital sooner.

"I can't really afford it." He lied. He could afford it but didn't want to get turned in.

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and then repeated the questions. "So would you say it was a hard birth? Sometimes a stressful birth can cause problems." The lady said. Namjoon shrugged shamefully.

He had never given birth before, so he didn't know if it was hard. "I'm sorry, I'm still new to all of this." He felt bad for not being more of a help.

The lady shook her head. "It's alright. The X-rays will give me a good hint at what is going on." She smiled. Namjoon nodded and relaxed, the lady leaving him until she had to come back for the X-rays.

He moved over to the seat by his baby, looking at her now calm little face. She was fast asleep, probably tired from being up for so long. He, too, decided to get some shut-eye, dozing off in the chair.

About half an hour later, the lady returned to the room, waking Namjoon up to go for the test. He stayed with his little girl the whole way, ensuring she was ok.

The lady was very happy with her behaviour throughout the procedure, giving her a little stuffed toy to sleep with. Namjoon smiled happily as his little girl was just about the same size as the teddy bear she was given.

"It will take a little while for the results to check them over. You can both return to the room. I'm sure you'll want a rest." Namjoon thanked the nurse again, returning to the room for more sleep.

He fed his little girl just before putting her to sleep again and then dozed himself. They managed a good two hours before the nurse came to get him.

"Thankfully, we have found nothing serious. I let you guys have a bit longer to sleep, knowing that you might need it." She smiled. Namjoon was incredibly thankful.

"She has asthma. It's not a bad case, either. It is probably just worse because of the cold. She will get prescribed a puffer and spacer. I'll teach you how to use it if you don't know. Give her one to two puffs when you think her breathing is getting shallow, and she should be good."

Namjoon sighed in relief. He could cry hearing the news. In fact, he did. Fat tears started to spill out of his eyes.

"She's not dying." He breathed heavily, burying his face into his hands with a relieved chuckle. The lady moved closer and touched his back, reassuringly rubbing it.

"No, your baby girl is just fine. In fact, apart from asthma, she's very healthy. She could be much worse from what you said about the birth." Namjoon looked up at the lady. "You're doing a great job at taking care of her." She smiled, and Namjoon couldn't hold the need to hug the girl back. He jumped off the bed and wrapped her in a hug.

The nurse chuckled and patted his back again. "Thank you so much." He sniffled, moving away once he realised how inappropriate he was being.

"It's ok. I assume it's stressful to be a new parent, especially a single one." She said with a soft smile. Namjoon nodded, slightly ashamed, but he knew she wasn't judging him. "Once I fill out the prescription, you both can go home." She smiled.

Namjoon was beyond ready to head back to his house. He was so happy that the lady was so nice, but he didn't want to risk being out in public more than necessary.

About an hour later, Namjoon said goodbye to the nurses and took his baby home. The kind lady smiled and waved him off before turning back to the other nurse at the desk.

"So we just send his reference to the outpatients." She said. The nurse nodded and brought up his file. Her face fell slightly, and she looked back to the nurse. "Wait, is that his name?" She asked.

"Yeah, Namjoon. Why?" She furrowed her brow at the weird reaction. "He's part of a missing persons case. We have an alert to look out for him." The nurse looked back out the glass windows after Namjoon. She felt bad for the guy. She didn't know the reasons for his life. Maybe he was kidnapped, maybe he was raped or domestically assaulted.

"We have mandatory reporting." The other lady said, looking sad as well. Both ladies sighed, knowing there was nothing they could do. It was law, and they had families to look after.

-

Namjoon had been having a much easier time with his little girl now. Just before she went to sleep, he would give her two puffs of the inhaler and ensure she was snuggled up in warm blankets. He bought an air humidifier to help with the cold air as soon as possible.

His little girl had been doing fine. He managed another week by himself with no problems until the crying returned. He worked through the first night, rocking her gently and calming her down.

He decided to sleep in the chair beside her cot that night, knowing she always slept better when he was around. He wondered whether she could sense his presence. Maybe she just needed to be with her daddy.

However, his idea was spoiled the next night when she wouldn't calm down, even when he held her. "No, please don't start this again. Appa is trying his hardest." Namjoon sighed, feeling his own emotion bubbling again.

He rocked, changed, fed, and gave her her puffer, yet she still wouldn't stop crying. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." He cried again. He couldn't stop the thoughts if only he had help.

-

"Are you sure this was the address?" Jin asked, eyeing the building. It was run down and creepy looking. They had already heard 3 different sirens going off in the last 10 minutes, indicating how bad the neighbourhood was.

"Yes, this is where the investigator said he was." Yoongi sighed. The six boys all gave each other a nervous look and then headed into the stairwell to go up the floors.

"There isn't even an elevator? What type of place is this?" Taehyung whined as they approached the second set of stairs. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his lazy Hyung, joking about the older wanting the others to carry him up the stairs.

"Don't tempt me." Tae quipped back as they started onto the third set of stairs.

"God, Namjoon Hyung had to do this every day?" Jimin questioned as they topped the third. The others all shrugged, finding it not hard, just annoying.

"We still don't know this is him," Yoongi said cautiously. He didn't want to be a downer but wouldn't get his hopes up. They had been looking for Namjoon for the last 5 months. It had been a rough time, and hope could only last them so long. "Let's not hold our breath." He warned, finally coming to the top of the fourth stairs.

He looked around at the fifth floor they were now on. It was dinky and smelt of cigarettes and piss. He couldn't believe that their leader would live in a place like this. They all took a deep breath and then moved to the 5th apartment.

This was the address the investigator had given him, and as much as this place was horrible, he fucking hoped it was right. Only so many times can you tell yourself that it doesn't hurt.

They approached the door, silence among them. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." A voice echoed through the paper-thin door. They could hear the sound of a loud baby crying, but they all were only focused on Namjoon.

"T-that voice... it's familiar." Hoseok whispered just loud enough that they all heard. The others all agreed, which made them all even more anxious. "There's nothing I can do! I'm failing." The voice called again with loud hiccups and sobs.

"Joon-!" Jungkook tried to call, but Jin put his hand over his mouth. "Shhh, don't yell. You'll scare him away." They remained quiet momentarily, hoping they hadn't given themselves away.

"God, I think I'm going crazy." A chuckle came from inside the apartment. "I can hear them. Your uncles. They always come to me when I need them." The boys' hearts ached to hear their leader talk about them.

"I miss them with all my heart." He said. "And I'm sorry you won't ever know how much they would have loved you." He sniffled again. "You would have been the light of their lives like mine."

All the boys had the exact same thought at that moment. Jimin, closest to the door, rushed forward and gripped the handle. He was surprised when the door opened, making a mental note to scold Namjoon about locking the doors later.

All six rushed in, finding the big leader looking up stunned in the middle of the floor.

The apartment Namjoon rented wasn't very big. It was a small studio apartment, but that's all he needed. He was trying to save money for the baby's later life, so the small room was enough for a single parent.

He had been crying on the floor with his baby in his arms when he heard his door burst open. He gasped and looked up, expecting to find a bunch of robbers or maybe busy police doing a search of the building. He did not expect to see the six boys he was talking about.

His eyes were so wide he was sure they would pop out of his head. Everything froze, and his little girl must have sensed a change in the room because she had stopped crying.

"Joonie?" Jin asked, looking at the tall boy on the floor with a baby in his arms.

Namjoon didn't want to move, scared that anything he might do would be wrong. He wholeheartedly wanted this to be his friends, his favourite people coming to find him, but he knew this wasn't good. This would make things so much worse.

"It's us, Namjoon-ah," Yoongi said softly, putting his arms out to show he meant no harm. Namjoon didn't need to swallow to feel the lump in his throat. It was so big that he almost thought it was blocking his breathing, but he knew that wasn't true. He was blocking his own breathing. "You can't be here." He choked out after more silence. The six boys looked at him cautiously.

"But we are. We are here for you." Jimin smiled, trying to show Namjoon their love, but the leader shook his head. He felt his tears returning, and he was positive he couldn't stop them. His whole body began to shake as he looked at the six.

"You have to leave. You have to leave." He chanted a few times with a fragile voice. "Please go away." He turned back down to his baby and held her closer.

"Hey Joon, it's ok. We aren't going to judge you." Hoseok reassured the boy, thinking he was nervous over the baby, but Namjoon kept rocking himself, telling them to go away. He pulled the small baby to his chest and tried to curl in on himself.

"If I close my eyes, you'll go away." He mumbled. The boys were concerned that he wasn't as mentally stable as once.

"Namjoonie, we aren't going anywhere. We just found you again." Jin said, trying to keep his voice happy and hopeful.

"Please, Hyung," Jungkook said. "We can go home now." Namjoon shot his head up, looking at the youngest.

"I can't go home. I can never go home." He said, his voice very clear and low.

Everyone was a bit stunned by the sudden firmness in his voice. "Why not Joon-ah?" Yoongi asked. He made the first attempt to get closer to the boy. He crouched down and went to rest a hand on Namjoon's shoulder, but the boy flinched away.

"Somebody did this to you, didn't they?" Taehyung asked, watching the leader intensely. It seemed obvious that Namjoon had been forced into something he didn't want. "Who did this? We can help you." Tae encouraged, joining Yoongi by the leader.

Namjoon shook his head and held his baby tighter. She fussed slightly at the tight grip, so Namjoon quickly let go again.

"Who hurt you, Namjoon? We will find them and make them pay." Jimin's face was stone cold. His voice was laced with venom. He was ready to beat whoever hurt his leader, friend, and brother.

"No, no, I can't. He said he'd hurt you if I did." Namjoon choked on another sob, starting to work himself up again.

"He can't hurt us, Hyung. We will find him and make him pay for hurting you." Jungkook held a fist up, showing that he meant to use it. There was silence for a moment, waiting for Namjoon to answer. "We are going to help you, Joonie. We will fix this. I'll take a DNA test of that baby to fix this if I have to." Jin said. Once again, Namjoon hugged the baby closer, thinking about his baby being used against him.

"Tell us who did this." Yoongi finally managed to touch the boy without him flinching away. He held his chin, lifting his face to look into his eyes.

"It started last year." He said, looking straight into Yoongi's eyes, though the rapper could tell he wasn't focused.

"Mr Lee approached me after dance and said I was falling behind." Namjoon's voice shook as he told his friends his biggest secret. "He offered me extra time to dance, and I wanted to be better for you all." He blinked a few times, trying to keep his tears away. "It didn't happen until the fourth time I stayed back." He could feel the tension from the rest of the group, so he kept his eyes on Yoongi. "I went to the bathroom after I finished the extra practice when he came in. I freaked out at him, telling him he was a weirdo for barging in when he knew I was there, but he just laughed at me. He pushed me against the wall of the cubical and started to touch me." Namjoon's voice broke the more he spoke. "I tried hard to fight back but was tired after all the practices. He had been making me stay back so he could wear me out, and then he struck when I was weakest." Namjoon took a moment, collecting his thoughts before he continued again. "After he raped me, he took pictures of me and said if I told anyone, he would leak them. I was so scared, so I didn't do anything." Namjoon felt ashamed. His pride had gotten him into this mess. "Eventually, I told him that I didn't care anymore. I wouldn't put up with this, but then Tae fell down the stairs, Jin Hyung nearly got hit with the sandbag on stage, and Hobi got the knife in the mail." The boys' eyes all widened, looking at Namjoon. "He said he would hurt you all if I told anyone." Finally breaking eye contact with Yoongi, Namjoon hung his head, looking down at his daughter. "Then, on the 5th of May, I found out I was pregnant. I told him I would get rid of the baby, but he told me not to. He said he would hurt everyone if I got rid of the baby, and then he told me to run away. He wanted me gone." Namjoon felt a hand on his shoulder but didn't look up.

"Joonie, you didn't have to protect us," Jin said, his voice weak.

"He got into our house once, he left death threats for Jimin, but I got them first. I couldn't risk letting you all get hurt." Namjoon sniffled, seeing how sad his friends looked at his sacrifice for them. "He could have done anything to us when we slept when we weren't home. I couldn't risk it." Namjoon looked up. "Not once I had my baby."

The others all gathered around him close. They hadn't forgotten the seriousness of the conversation, but they knew not to push too hard. Taehyung got down on his knees, looking at the small girl. "What's her name?" He asked with a kind smile. He touched her foot, giving it a cute little shake.

Namjoon frowned and looked down at her. "I...I haven't named her yet." He admitted.

"What? Why not?" Jimin furrowed his brows at the father. The baby must have been a few weeks old by then, and she still didn't have a name.

"I don't know. I couldn't think of a name for her. They all made me sad. Wondering if I was picking the right one for her to have her whole life."

Namjoon looked at her soft little face. She had finally drifted off to sleep, calm from the people surrounding her. "I didn't have anyone to tell me whether it was a good name." The leader shrugged. There was silence again for a moment until the youngest spoke.

"What about Sook-sun?" Namjoon looked to Jungkook, contemplating the name. "It means pureness for Sook and goodness for Sun. It would be pure goodness." The suggestion warmed Namjoon's heart.

He thought about it for a while, looking back at his baby. He gave a small chuckle when her nose wiggled in her sleep. "Sook-sun. I love it." He smiled brightly. Jungkook grinned at the two, happy to be able to help.

"It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl," Jin said, placing a hand on Namjoon's shoulder. "She is pure goodness to us all," Tae added.

Namjoon felt his heart soar. His friends were amazing. Not even knowing about the little baby for more than an hour, they all looked down at her with endless love.

"You're an amazing parent Joon-ah." Hoseok admired the leader's skill. "She's such an amazing little human already." He added, happy to be able to make Namjoon smile wider. "We won't let her be alone again, and neither will you," Jimin said strongly.

The tone of the voice made shivers run down Namjoon's back. "We are going to sue that man for everything he's worth. You're coming home with us, and we aren't accepting no." Yoongi insisted, crossing his arms, so they knew he really meant it.

"H-how can I go back?" Namjoon asked quietly. "I can't be in the band with a baby. Not to mention I've lost all talent I had. I'll be right back at square one." Namjoon sighed, but the others scoffed.

"Lost your talent? As if you ever could." Hoseok chuckled at the stupid words of the leader. "Joon-ah, you have more talent in your little finger than anyone else could." Namjoon looked up with sparkling eyes. He hated that he wanted to cry once again, but his hormones were still a mess. "Nothing could stop us from wanting you to come back, Hyung. We will all help you with Sunni." Namjoon smiled at his baby's nickname already.

"We will work everything out." Taehyung looked at the others, seeing them all agreeing with him. They would bring Namjoon home...

Because they would never leave him behind. They found him now, and he wasn't going anywhere again. They were always 7.

[strangersteddierthings]

It's been seven months since the last text from Eddie. The last text had been 'bored can we be toxic again' and Steve's told him to shut up, but also agreed.

The time before, a couple of weeks before Eddie's text, Steve had sent 'feeling self-destructive wanna help' and Eddie had said 'thats what im best at ur place or mine?'. It's what they do. Have done ever since that first time they fell into bed together, when they were both far too drunk and Steve woke up to Eddie gone. Seeing him later, Eddie acted like nothing had changed between them, so Steve did, too. If high school and college has taught Steve anything, it's that the thing he's best for is a good ol' roll in the hay. Good enough to fuck but not good enough to keep around.

Doesn't matter that Steve wants more, especially with Eddie. He knew what he was good for, back then. What Eddie thinks he's still good for now.

The text he received from Eddie, what's made Steve so contemplative at -his eye flick to the time- at 8:32 in the morning is six words, sent almost an hour ago.

[7:38am] Im in town. Wanna be toxic?

The seven months between these two texts, the last one Eddie sent and this brand new one, is filled with about 17 texts from Steve that Eddie never answered. Steve looks so desperate, reaching out repeatedly just to be ignored, but...

The thing is, Steve would like to be toxic, and self-destructive, accepting whatever scrapes Eddie's ever offered him. Steve still has those urges. But this last time. That last time, seven months ago, Eddie had been different. Steve can't quite explain how, Eddie's always been attentive, checking to make sure Steve's enjoying whatever they're doing as much as he is. But this time felt. More. It felt like... like maybe Eddie loved him, like Steve loves him. Has been in love with him, since before that first drunken night.

But then, Eddie was gone. Steve woke up alone (not surprising) and then got ghosted (very surprising).

No word from him, until now it seems.

It had fucked Steve up, though. He'd let himself believe that this time, he'd wake up to Eddie. In his (apparently delusional) post-orgasm bliss he fooled himself into thinking that everything between them would change. That Eddie felt the same. That it wasn't just a physical attraction for Eddie anymore.

What a fucking joke.

He'd broke down, sobbing on the phone to Robin. She probably broke every traffic law on her way to Steve's, getting there as fast as she had.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," she'd whispered as she held him. "You are worth so much more than this."

"I don't... can't believe that. I don't know how."

"Then we'll work on it. Together."

So, all that to say that even though Steve wants to tell Eddie to come over, no matter his urges to still be self-destructive, he's not going to. He can't ruin everything he and Robin have achieved. He can't relapse now that his therapist has just told him he should be proud of how far he's come in half a year.

He can't. He won't.

So, he stares at the text message, takes a deep breath, and replies.

[7:38am] Im in town. Wanna be toxic? [8:36am] i cant

Eddie misunderstands, apparently, because he replies with:

[8:36am] In town about a week. Available whenever

Well. This is going to be the end of whatever friendship they'd pretended to still have, Steve is sure, but he's going to be honest. After a lot of deleting, rewording, deleting again, he settles for something short and simple.

[8:52am] no i mean i cant. i wont. u vanished from my life after making me think u finally finally loved me back and i cant do that anymore.

And then, because he thinks he'll always be his own worst enemy, he sends an immediate follow-up.

[8:52am] love me always or leave me forever

He calls Robin, then, blurting out when she picks up, "Eddie texted me. And I replied. I said- I said something I shouldn't have and now I'm freaking out because I can't. I can't, Robin! I, what if, what-"

"I'm on my way right now, just let me tell Chrissy where I'm going. What can't you do, Stevie?"

"Read his response! I shouldn't have said anything because it's gonna fuck me up no matter what he says! I shouldn't have- I should have blocked his number five months ago when he failed to respond to my final text. We have to stay on the phone. If we hang up, I'll check the text, if he even replies. Goddamnit, why do I do this to myself!?"

Chrissy ends up offering to drive Robin over so she can stay on the phone, and Steve says she should just stay over, too. He's grown close to Chrissy, as she's been Robin's girlfriend for three years now.

Robin stays on the phone with him the whole time, until she's standing directly in front of him from his spot on the floor behind his couch, legs pulled up with his arms wrapped around them, phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder. She takes his phone and hangs up before handing his phone to Chrissy.

"Can you guard this for a moment?"

"Of course," Chrissy says, giving Robin a quick kiss, which makes Steve's chest hurt with jealousy but also happiness because Robin and Chrissy are so happy with each other, and Steve's also so happy for them, "and I'll give you two a little time. I'll be napping on Steve's bed, probably."

Robin laughs and Chrissy heads down the short hallway to Steve's bedroom.

"Alright Dingus," Robin drops down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him towards her until he huddles down and drops his head onto her shoulder. "I'm here. However you need me."

"The text. He asked to hookup. And I- I ended up saying no and telling him I can't do that anymore but instead of just. Fucking ending the conversation there, I told him to either love me or leave me and I'm so stupid. I was doing so good!"

"Hey, no, you aren't stupid. You're just... just a boy in love. That's enough to make anyone do things they regret. When you're ready, and if Eddie replied, I'll read it first. Try and gauge how you'll feel about it, and we can go from there."

Steve nods his head against her shoulder. He doesn't know really which will be worse, Eddie responding or him ghosting again. He just knows that either will hurt and he's not ready to deal with that yet.

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝the garrison rat❞ CHP 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

previous / next

summary: torn apart by an unexpected loss, you find yourself unable to leave birmingham. you’re aware that people notice you drinking in the garrison every other night, you’re aware they call you nicknames, but you don’t care about any of it— at least, not until you start speaking to john shelby. he’s looking for a wife and you vowed to never love again, which makes things a bit complicated.

warnings: fluff concerning the possibility of the L word (and it’s not lesbians), brief smut, (it’s finally happening folks!!!) it’s still unclear whether reader is an alcoholic or not but we might be verging into that territory now, alcohol-based hallucinations, mentions of past cocaine addiction, and of course angst concerning grief

word count: 2.2k

tag list: @datewithgianni @1950schick @clementinesjourney @cbouvier23 @smailaway @cedricscoffin @buckysjuicyplums @belledawnidk

a/n: i am slowly running out of john gifs to use, lol. i’ve been meaning to learn how to make my own! anyway, we’re pretending it hasn’t been 25 hours since i posted chapter six :)

//////

Hours had passed with you alone in your apartment. You hadn’t figured out what to do with yourself just yet; you’d gotten a bottle of wine on the angry way home, and had been alternating between guzzling it and cleaning up the mess you’d made in the apartment that you’d never had the chance to clean up.

Cushions that had been slashed open, emptied of their stuffing and thrown on the ground went into the garbage; clothes previously torn out of your closet were washed, dried, folded and put away; the remnants of glass in your kitchen had been swept up and tossed and you were in a drunken stupor by the end of it. Had you been paying closer attention to your body, you would’ve noticed the ghost of Sam whispering to you, warning you that you were going to drink yourself into a coma if you kept this up, but of course you ignored it.

God, your emotions controlled you more than you controlled them. Sometimes it was fiery and free, but most of the time you hated it.

As soon as the last of what had once been a pretty ceramic mug had been thrown into the garbage, you sat back on the couch and sighed. Regret was coming over you now. You knew you needed to apologize to John before the wedding, but you were hardly in the right state of mind to do so.

In response to that, you reached for the wine glass you’d been drinking out of for the past few hours and filled it with that thick, cherry red liquid.

You’ll drink yourself into a coma, Sam whispered again, but you ignored it.

They had this type of wine at your wedding, you remembered. Before they had gotten deep into gang wars in the midst of the First World War, the Lees had owned a vineyard by the old house Esme lived in: they grew their own grapes and, if Sam’s stories were to be believed, every summer was spent alternating between getting unbelievably drunk and getting high on snow.

To you, it was endearing how much it sounded like the hot, sweltering summers you used to endure in Nevada, when you were in the process of weaning yourself off cocaine— maybe the fiery heat of summer was what drew you both together.

Back in the present, you paused and drank deeply, staring up at the ceiling of that shitty apartment. You hadn’t noticed that water damage stain before, but you were too deep in your thoughts to care.

You were sure that fiery type of emotion drew you to John, too. God, the way he looked at you when he sat besides you in that booth at the Garrison— “Different, huh?” he’d mumbled with that fucking smile on his face— it inspired a feeling so bittersweet inside of you, it made you want to claw your heart out of your chest.

Jesus, fuck. You wished Sam were here to talk you out of this pointless engagement.

You closed your eyes and let your hand drift into the air above you. You could visualize him if you tried hard enough— if you closed your eyes, you’d see him again.

Your stomach lurched, subliminally begging for you to sober up, but of course you ignored it.

Brown eyes, freckles dotted across his cheeks, that kind of sly smile that stretched across his face, made dimples deepen, had you lighting a fire in your stomach. Calluses on his fingers and that ugly gunshot scar on the back of his hand when George Lee had accidentally shot him at the gun range when they were Finn’s age.

You breathed deeply through your nose, feeling the tears release and run down your cheeks, and then you felt him.

Tough skin caressing your fingers. A voice that sounded like honey. His choked kind of breathless laugh that was somehow the softest thing you’d ever heard.

“Y/N, you need to listen to me, alright? I’m always gonna be in love with you. I mean - fuckin’ Christ. I’m so fucking in love with you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His voice was an echo, but it sounded so real. You knew he was smiling that smile that now tore you up from the inside.

“You wanna just stay in bed all day, yeah? You can do that. We got time to do that. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“We don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do,” you mumbled to yourself. Your arm was still ghostly poised in the air.

“I’m always gonna be with you, y’know that? It’s just you and me. As for the rest of the world, fuck ‘em. I need you, Y/N. I fuckin’ need you.”

Tears were rolling freely down your face now, it felt like your whole face was wet. Snot was dripping down your lips, it was a while before you could catch your breath.

Your voice came out choked. “I fuckin’ need you too, Sam.”

There was a beat: his voice changed.

“Can you do one thing for me?” he asked softly.

“Anything,” you whispered back. “Anything, I love you, you know that.”

“I need you to put down the bottle,” he replied. “I need you to walk to bed.”

You did what he said: the bottle of wine and the glass went onto the coffee table, and you wandered into your tiny bedroom like a zombie. You never wanted to let go of the warmth of him.

When he spoke again, his voice was thick in your ears, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“I need you to get in. Get as comfortable as you can.”

You complied: for the first time in months, your ratty blankets felt warm. You brought your legs up to your chest, unabashedly curled up like a little kid, and kept your eyes closed.

You could feel Sam’s hand on your shoulder now. Warm, like molten gold.

“I need you to know that everything is going to be alright, okay? You’re going to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“John’s a bad man,” you mumbled out to the stretch of darkness you were seeing through your closed eyes.

To your surprise, Sam laughed. “On the surface, maybe. But he’s good. I can tell he is. Bit reckless, maybe - four children at twenty-four, that’s fucking mental, eh?”

You giggled like a teenager. “He makes my eyes roll up into the back of my head, it’s not hard to understand why he has that many kids.”

Sam snorted, and you laughed again, just to feel that whole-hearted warmth.

Whole.

You hadn’t felt this whole in a year.

Sensing this, Sam went quiet.

“I want you to get some rest, darling.”

As you drew your blankets up to your chin, you felt a phantom kiss on your temple.

His lips. Soft and full, even though he smoked constantly.

Sweet dreams, my love.

//////

Halfway across town, John woke with a start.

For a minute he’d thought that he’d woken up in the middle of the night, but when he groped for the clock on the nightstand and took a glimpse at it, it told him that it was 4 PM in the afternoon— he’d slept for an entire day, and none of the Shelbys had come to wake him.

Paranoid, worried about having somehow missed Black Star Day even though it was planned for a week ahead, John stumbled out of bed, shuffled into his rumpled, three-piece suit he’d worn two days ago, stuck a fresh toothpick in his mouth, and shuffled downstairs into the betting shop, distorted thoughts of possibly visiting Zhang’s filled his head.

Unsurprisingly, Arthur was there at the table, smoking a cigar and attempting to read what looked like yesterday’s morning paper.

“Where’s everyone?” John asked warily, stopping short.

“Gone to the Lees, I s’pose,” he answered without looking up. “They’ve gone to sort out the dowry for that girl of yours.”

Arthur snorted and turned a page. “You should see the size of it, I’ll tell you right now.”

Unconvinced, John glanced at the chalkboard used for keeping track of bets and schedules. You’d be at work right now, and his kids would most likely be somewhere driving those nuns at the preparatory school up the wall.

Most likely— he never was totally sure, anyway. Jesus, he really needed to get a better hold on his kids.

“Let me know if Y/N swings by the Parlour,” he told Arthur curtly, then stomped out the door.

//////

You did, in fact, swing by the Parlour: two hours after you’d gotten off of work, you changed into your best dress to deliver the Lees’ finest set of china to the house. You’d fought tooth and nail to come there alone, Zilpha in particular had put up a fight— resulting in the sharpest back and forth in the Romani language you’d ever heard— but truth be told, you couldn’t care less about the dowry, you were just looking for a chance to apologize to John.

Upon coming inside, you met Polly, apparently alone and serenely painting her nails at the kitchen table.

“Hi,” you started awkwardly, “This - uh - this is, my dowry, y’know, for the wedding-“

“Leave it on the table,” she shot back flatly, never looking up at you.

You were crippled with awkwardness now. Fuck, where was that confidence you’d possessed two days ago? “Is John here?”

Polly still didn’t look at you. “He’s upstairs.”

Upstairs.

“Thank you,” you replied after a tense beat, and mentally cursing yourself for your lack of grace, you placed the china on the table and shuffled upstairs.

The air up here was unnaturally still, and it smelled like vanilla. The unexpected sweetness had you on edge.

Praying that your drunken memory was serving you right, you nudged open the door that you thought was John’s, and stepped inside.

Sure enough, John was standing with his back to you, staring out of the window.

Upon hearing the door creak, he turned and almost jumped when he saw you.

“Y/N!”

You took a deep breath. “John, I-“

Then, quite confusingly, you both started speaking at once.

“God, I’m sorry, I acted like such a fuckin’ dolt, and I went about it so foolishly-”

“-It’s on me, I don’t even know why I made such a big deal of it at the Garrison like that-”

“-It’s just that-”

“I - I-”

You both stopped at the same time, looking at each other like deer in headlights, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“I bought you flowers,” John put in sheepishly, gesturing towards the windowsill. “Don’t judge me, it was Finn’s idea.”

The tension had successfully been broken: you laughed, feeling warmth rush in your chest. “You didn’t have to, it’s fine.”

“Are we good?” he asked you anxiously, and you nodded immediately.

After a beat, you reached out to hug him.

“We’re gonna get married soon,” you whispered in his ear, and you saw the hairs on his neck raise. “I figured we don’t need the extra stress.”

“Are you ever gonna tell me what got you so worked up about Black Star Day?” John breathed back.

There was the smallest moment of hesitation: the words were right there, all you had to do was coax them onto your tongue.

Waiting. You were waiting, everything was waiting.

His face was so close.

Three words to say.

Just three words.

Say it.

It didn’t matter: in the end, you were a coward.

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered instead, looking up at him.

For a moment, he said nothing. There was a storm darkening on his face, and you had no idea what it meant.

“You have no idea what kind of effect you have on people,” he muttered, after what seemed like an eternity.

Confusion sprung into your eyebrows. “What?”

John was struggling to hide the grin pulling at his lips. “Ever since I saw you in the Garrison, no one else has been worth thinking about, y’know that?”

You opened your mouth and closed it, unsure of what to say. There was a heartbeat between your legs, impossible to ignore, and you weren’t sure you could verbally say what you meant.

You could definitely say it physically, though.

Your breath catching in your throat, you pushed your lips onto his, and sensing your need, John’s hands slid under your ass to lift you up.

The bedsprings creaked horribly as he tossed you onto the bed, but you didn’t care: you scrambled up to grab his hand and pressed it to the heat blossoming between your legs.

“Yours,” you breathed, and somehow the confirmation was stronger than those three cursed words always on the tip of your tongue. “Yours whenever you need it, you hear me?”

“Mine, eh?” John repeated, and you couldn’t help your grin as he found the zipper on the back of your dress and tugged it down, exposing completely bare skin. “This fucking pussy’s mine now, is it?”

“All yours, always has been.”

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unrequited Love ~ HHJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

PAIRING: Hyunjin x GN!Reader (If there are any mistakes please tell me so I can change them 🥰♥)

Terms: Mx - Used as a replacement for Mr/Mrs/Sir/Ma’am

GENRE: AU, Hanahkai AU, friends to lovers, angst, fluffy, pining, 

A/N: You guys know how much I love AU’s so I had so much fun with this!! 

Hanahkai Disease: This is a fictional disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when they’re in one-sided love. It ends when the love returns (Can’t be a strong friendship, only romantic feelings) or the victim will die. The disease can be surgically removed but the feelings for the crush will be gone.

Unrequited love. Something that had been written about in all forms for almost 5500 years. There were always the stories of the person finally getting the one they truly wanted. Beating the Unrequited love and overcoming everything to be with the one you loved. This would be fine and dandy if you had a normal crush on someone and weren't like Hyunjin.

Hyunjin had something different about him, something that he'd never heard about until he'd been online researching for hours. Hanahkai Disease. Besides all of the troll accounts talking about how the disease wasn't "real" there were so many other articles and medical documents to back it up. The one thing that stuck out to Hyunjin the most about it all was that it could kill him. From anywhere from 2-3 weeks or 18 months. Being told you had anywhere between 2-3 weeks and 18 months to live was never anything good.

All of this because he had a stupid crush on somebody. His lungs were filled with roses that would gradually get bigger until they rendered his breathing useless. All he could do whenever he thought about his crush or even spoke to her for too long was cough up flowers into his hands or if he could make it, a bathroom.

"What's on your mind? You've got that weird look in your eyes." Your voice broke Hyunjin out of his daydream and he turned to look at you. Blushing a little as he realises he was spacing out in the middle of your study date. 

The two of you were sitting in the back of the college library trying to cram for an upcoming test but his mind was elsewhere. What was the point in studying when he knew he was going to die? There was no way Sooyoung was going to like him back. 

Waving your hand in front of his face again he looked at you nervously. There was clearly something bothering him and it wasn't the study material. Hyunjin could take this test four times over in his sleep if he really wanted to.

"I want to tell you something but you have to promise me that you won't laugh." Putting your pen down on the table you looked at him. 

Whatever it was, was clearly serious. Hyunjin had never been so serious about something before and you'd known him almost your whole life. 

The pair of you had been best friends since you moved to his neighbourhood when you were six. Growing up together, going to the same schools until you both attended the same college.

"What is it?" You questioned softly as he looked at you. The idea of telling you about the disease toying in his head. The fact that he had been dealing with this alone for the last three months was beginning to bother him and he knew he could tell you anything.

There wasn't a single thing in the world that you would ever judge him for. You were the one person he knew he could count on for anything and the same was for you with him.

"Have you heard of Hanahkai disesase?" The name rang a bell and you began to think about it.

"I think-"

"The rare disease that some people get when they're in one-sided love?" You nodded at him. You'd heard about it a lot. Super rare, hardly heard of really. Doctors had done all of the research that they could on it. It could be surgically removed but it all risked permanent damage to the lungs and it would cost forgetting the person you were in love with altogether,

"I have it," The world seemed to stop spinning as you stared at your best friend. Laughing a little you shook your head, there was no way he had it. 

"What do you mean you have it?" You questioned a little harshly as you stared at him. All thoughts of studying going out of your head as you stared at your best friend.

"I mean, I have it. What else could that mean?" He snapped a little angrily at you, you leant back against the chair shaking your head. Letting it sink in that he had this disease as well as was in love with someone and hadn't told you about it. 

The two of you told each other everything.

Or so you thought. Why hadn’t he told you he was in love with someone? Or that he suffered from this in the first place? When did the two of you begin to keep secrets from one another?

"You can't...I mean who do you have a crush on?" Racking your brain you tried to think of someone Hyunjin had mentioned even briefly but there was nothing. Nothing and no one that you could think of that he would have a crush on.

"Sooyoung," 

"Sooyoung?" You looked behind him down a couple of tables to see her sitting there. 

Sitting at one of the rounded tables as she did nothing but brush her hair and look pretty. There was no denying that she was gorgeous but you never thought Hyunjin would go for someone like her.

Someone so perfect.

Jet black hair perfectly straight, wearing designer clothes and always had boys surrounded her. Waiting on her hands and knees as if she was some kind of queen. The whole college seemed to fall in love with her. 

"Sooyoung?" You questioned again, a little more unimpressed this time. Hyunjin could already tell you hated the fact that it was Sooyoung of all people and so did he. It wasn't as if he wanted to feel this way about her.

"I'm telling you because I want your help," Help? What did he want you to do? Go up and tell her that if she didn't love him back your best friend was going to die?

"What am I meant to do?" You questioned leaning forward a little to see what his plan was for all of this.

"You're good at this, tell me what girls like." You blinked at him

"What on earth makes you think I'm good at this? I know what girls like but Sooyoung isn't like every other girl...She's a different breed." The woman had exquisite taste and clearly liked things differently from those around her.

"Will you help me at least get her attention," Smirking at him you nodded. Getting her attention was going to be easy enough.

"Sure." Picking up the rubber from the table you launched it across the room hitting one of the boys in the head before it dropped down in front of Sooyoung. 

Gasping a little she looked down at it and then around the room to figure out who had thrown it but you'd already turned to Hyunjin.

"Fetch." You mumbled to him watching as he glared at you. 

Oh if looks could kill. 

"Sorry, my friend is stressed." He whispered as he bent down in front of Sooyoung. Their eyes locking as she giggled at him, reaching down to touch his long dark-brown hair. It was always the hair that people fell in love with first. Smirking a little you were glad you had french-braided one side and put it into a ponytail.  

"Cute," She whispered as she twirled a strand of his hair around her delicate fingers. Instantly Hyunjin felt his throat beginning to clog up with petals so he smiled before calmly walking to the door. Frowning as you watched him you waited to see what he was doing. Before you could even get up he was racing down the corridors to find the nearest bathroom.

"Sorry, he's a little shy...Here," You scrambled to write down his number on a random post-it and gave it to Sooyoung. Her eyes were wide as she looked from you to the door, 

"Shy? Around me?" You nodded gently ignoring the weird looks you were gaining from the boys around her. 

"I'll text him," She whispered as she began punching the numbers into her phone.

Hurrying after Hyunjin you stood outside the bathroom looking at him as you held your bag and his. The colour had drained from his face as he stood there. Hair messy and petals were strewn about all over the place.

"Here," You reached up to take a petal out of his hair and smiled sadly at him. The last thing you ever wanted was for Hyunjin to be in pain. You knew how badly this thing could be. 

"I'll help you...She has your number," You nudged him softly and he began to blush a little as he looked at you. He was thankful he had you to help him through all of this.

"Thank you," He breathed out bringing you into a tight hug as you whined that he was hurting you. 

"We can go to my dorm, I'll do your hair and we can begin planning how to get the girl to love you back." You promised him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder beginning to walk with you towards the exit of the campus.

"First things first you're going to have to talk to her without...Coughing up flowers in front of her..." Turning to look at him from the other side of your dorm room you raised an eyebrow. You didn't know the ins and outs of how it all worked so you were going to need his help with it all.

"Is there a way you can control it?" He shrugged his shoulders as he sat on the floor against your bed. There wasn't much he knew about it either. He'd never tried to control it, all he knew was when he was around her his lungs filled with rose petals until he coughed them up. Even when he thought about her too hard it could sometimes bring some flowers up.

"I'm not sure," He whispered playing with the teddy he'd gotten you for your birthday while you began writing down on a large whiteboard on your wall. 

Learn to control coughing up. You were going to treat this as though it was some kind of study material. Have all of the facts laid out in front of you before you tried to find a solution to it.

"We need to learn what her favourite flowers are, what snacks she likes, then you're going to slowly woo her." Hyunjin stared up at you with a raised eyebrow. Not believing for one second that he had just heard you use the term "woo her".

"Woo her? What are we? 91?" He mumbled sarcastically only for a chocolate button to be thrown against his head. Your aim was impeccable. 

"Did you or did you not want my help?" You questioned as you stared over at him. Hand resting on your hip as you tilted your head to the side.

"Yes, Mx!" He fake saluted watching as you began to write her name, getting ready to list things she did and didn't like underneath it. Hyunjin thought back on all of the times he'd seen her getting gifts from people. Remembering the way she reacted to each of them.

"She likes sunflowers and roses together, I've seen her get them from one of the jocks before a game." He looked up at you.

"Sunflowers and roses," You mumbled as you wrote them on the board in green ink.

"We can get some from the store tomorrow morning." You told him as you turned to look at him. The thought of losing your best friend to something like this was eating you up inside but you were going to be strong for him. 

The look on his face made you feel bad about teasing him earlier in the day. All he wanted to do was get help and you had been a little mean about it.

"I promise I'll do everything I can Hyunjin." You said sweetly as you walked over to the bed, sitting behind him on the bed as he sat on the floor. You ran your fingers through his hair and began to braid it. Something he found extremely relaxing whenever he was stressing too much over something.

"I don't deserve you Y/n." He hummed as you began to french-braid the sides once again before joining them together in a ponytail at the back of his head. Just as it had been that morning when he came to get it done.

"I don't know how I can repay you," He added on as he looked at your whiteboard of information. If anyone came in now it would look as though you were stalking Sooyoung but of course that wasn't what you were doing.

"With food, comics and helping me cram for tests." You told him as you smirked, patting the top of his head as you got up from the bed.

"I'll go and order some pizza...We can talk pick-up lines and dates while we eat." He nodded watching as you left the room leaving him to overthink everything. Groaning when he felt the pressure of the petals begin to build as his thoughts went to Sooyoung.

As time began to progress the only thing that seemed to be happening was Hyunjin was getting worse. It seemed as though no matter what happened with Sooyoung nothing was going to happen. The flower petals began to grow in size and he felt sick almost all of the time.

"Maybe she'll never love me back," He said to you as you sat in a small cafe together. Sharing a plate of chips as you spoke about his date with Sooyoung that he had just gotten back from. He'd taken her ice skating since it was one of her favourite things to do but nothing else happened. They held hands around the ice skating rink and that was all.  

"It can take time," You reminded him, waving a chip in front of his mouth until he took it from you. 

"It's been three months...I have six months to make her fall in love with me." The never-ending ticking time bomb.

"Do-able." You were trying to remain as positive about all of this as possible. You never wanted to lose your best friend. 

"She has too many guys after her. There's no way I can do this Y/n." He put his head down onto the table and you reached around to run your fingers through his hair. Tears beginning to build up in your eyes at the thought of him giving up on this so easily. It wasn't like Hyunjin to just give up on anything.

"Give it a chance Hyunjin...Please." It came out as a beg but you didn't care. There was no way you were going to let your best friend give up on this and accept that some kind of disease was going to kill him. The plea didn't go unnoticed as he looked up at you, eyes bloodshot as he was on the verge of tears. 

He'd been researching the surgery without telling you. Deciding that it was probably easier for him to go through that than try and force somebody into loving him. It was dangerous and irreversible.

"One more month," He mumbled sitting up and back against the booth seat. Laying his head against the wall and looking at you.

"Want to practice date talk?" You questioned. He nodded at you and you smiled before going back into your dating impersonation. The two of you had been doing this whenever you went out to eat or ate at the dorm so that he could get used to it. 

"Come and sit next to me, whenever we eat together she sits beside me." You nodding sliding out of your side of the booth and into his. His arm wrapped around your waist and you seemed to freeze. A weird tightness began to grow in your chest and stomach but you ignored it. Turning to him and feeding him a chip while looking at him. Hyunjin leant down and bit into the chip slowly. It was the first thing he'd eaten all day and he was thankful you were with him to eat with. 

"Talk to me as if I was Sooyoung," You grumbled at him as you looked down at the plate. Suddenly losing all sense of appetite the longer you stared at it. 

One month came and went as though it was on fast-forward. You barely remembered anything that Hyunjin had planned for his time with Sooyoung. All you knew was that he was giving up. Telling you that all of this had been a waste of time for him.

"Hyunjin you can't do this," Your voice heightened as you looked at him. Reaching your hands out to touch him as he began packing up clothes into his bag. The moment he told you that he was going through with the surgery you panicked. There were so many horror stories surrounding the procedure.

"I've already booked it," He mumbled at you, moving away from your grasp to collect more clothes from his wardrobe. 

The two of you were in his dorm room that night when he decided to drop the bomb on you that he was going to have the surgery. 

"It's experimental! Something could go wrong," You whimpered as you stood in front of his wardrobe. Blocking him from getting inside. There was no way you were going to let him go through with something so idiotic that could kill him or leave him with no memories.

"It's worth it to not feel like this! To not die!" He yelled at you as you moved out of the way. Watching him as he began to shove clothes into a bag instead of folding them. There was no way you were going to be able to change his mind but you were going to try. 

"So you're just going to leave? What about exams?" You questioned as you tried not to bring the focus on why you needed him to stay around.

"I don't see a reason for staying, I'll get the surgery and be back in time for exams." He grumbled not looking at you as he reached into the back of his wardrobe for shoes.

"Hyunjin you have five months-" 

"She's in love with someone else! She's dating someone else so there is no help for me. Don't you get that!?" He yelled as he cut you off. Turning to face you, he was red in the fact of anger and his eyes were tearing up. 

Pushing past you he walked towards his bed, putting his bag down as he began to pack his study material up. If he was going to be stuck in a hospital he might as well make the time useful. 

"You think that you're the only person in the world that has that disease?!" You yelled back at him. Not meaning to snap and sound as angry as you did but you had enough.

"I'm not going to sit around and wait for the flowers to kill me." He grumbled keeping his back to you. 

"I'm not saying that! I'm saying give it time...M-maybe you'll fall in love with someone else." You were grasping at straws and he knew that as well as you did.

"You sound pathetic. There is no one else Y/n. There will never be someone else." He said in hushed tones as he flicked through some of his notebooks. Debating to take them with him or not. 

"Never?"

"No. Never," He mumbled at you.

"But I love you," Your chest swelled and you could feel yourself beginning to sweat as you finally told him. 

The months you had been helping him with Sooyoung you had begun to fall more and more in love with him. The fake dates you would have didn't help as you only fell harder for someone you knew would never like you back.

"Yeah but friendship love isn't enough to cure it!" He yelled slamming his book down onto his desk. Taking in deep breathes as he tried to calm himself down. He knew you were trying to help but nothing you had done was working. 

"You asked for my help-"

"Now I'm telling you to back off." He came across so cold you felt as though ice began to run down your back. Your chest burnt as you put off the cough that was itching to come out. Holding your hand over your mouth you let out a tiny cough. Wincing as you felt the petals fall down into your hands. Three white-budding roses sitting in your hand, large enough that you knew you didn't have much time left. Hyunjin didn't even notice you coughing as he rushed to put everything away into a bag.

"Call me when you've decided to get over this." You mumbled as you left his room. Dropping the petals into the bin by his front door before you left.

As Hyunjin was about to leave the dorms he went to through away his rubbish when he saw the flowers. They weren't his since his seemed to be a little more than two petals at the moment. These looked as though they were just beginning to grow larger. None of the boys was home which only meant that they could have been yours,. 

"Y/n." He breathed out as he looked at his phone. Hitting your name to call you but there was no answer. It just rang and rang. 

You stared at the phone while it lit up. There was no use talking to him when he was going to go through with the surgery no matter what.

"Call me when you get this, I need to talk to you." The message rang out as you deleted it. Walking to the kitchen to get something to eat but nothing seemed good to you. Everything you thought about eating made your stomach churn. Nothing had seemed appealing to you for months.

After a few days of staying in your dorm and ignoring Hyunjin, you began to feel the need for fresh air. There was no use in hauling yourself up inside of the dorms all day. You had no idea how much time you had left so you needed to do something with it.

Swinging the door open you almost screamed seeing Hyunjin standing. His hand raised as if he was about to knock on the door right before you answered it. 

"Did you get the surgery?" You questioned harshly as he stared at you. His eyes fixed on your face as he said nothing in response to you.

"Hyunjin?" Instead of responding he grabbed you close to him and kissed you roughly. The breath felt as though it was knocked right out of your chest as you collided with him. Your hands pushing into his long hair as he pushed you into the apartment. Holding you close to him as he ran his fingers up and down your back. Needing to feel every inch of you as close to him as possible. Tears rolled down your cheeks until you both could taste them. 

"H-Hyunjin." You breathed out as you both pulled away only to rest your foreheads on one another. Neither of you wanted to be apart for any longer than you had to be.

"I love you," He breathed out as he held your hand in his, squeezing them softly. 

"I love you too," You hiccuped through the tears, sniffling as little as he pulled you into his chest. Resting his chin on your head as you both stood there together.

 Another month passed both of you scared that the flowers would begin to come up again but they hadn't. Not once had you coughed up a petal, bud or a whole flower. Your appetite had come back and Hyunjin was feeling better than he ever had. The two of you had beaten the Unrequited love and overcoming everything to be with one another. 

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