#it is so sad how they only gave us this look for approximately 5 minutes

[youngsuitedboi]

Schoolboy´s big day - Part 2

It was time to go back home. Boy changed back into his long black trousers, put his jacket on and decided against taking a bus home. No, this cheeky little boy secretly must have enjoyed this as he decided to walk home. It took about 20 minutes and boy passed so many people on the pavements, so many cars and busses full of people passed him. Cars were giving boy way on the crossings so people definitely noticed him. Boy lives in a country where there have never been school uniforms so people might not connect two and two together, but seeing someone boy´s age (boy is 25 but can look like 16 on a good day) in a matching blazer and tie-they must have been asking some questions. Boy saw their looks, but he stopped caring. It is true, we are often just scared of something we never tied before and once we give it a try, it is not that bad. Would boy wear his shorts and knee-high socks on the streets? Probably not, he is not there yet. But maybe in a different city or country? 

Bboy arrived home. More tasks were awaiting him. Firstly, boy was to listen to Master´s files for 30 minutes. Those were hypno files and boy completely does off. Boy does not know what they were about but supposedly, that is good with hypno? Boy does not know, he is new to it. 

Another task, this time boy was to strip naked. So he did. He neatly folded his uniform and put it on his wooden chair. Boy owns a proper comfy chair, yes, but when boy is in his uniform, he cannot use it. He is only allowed to use a wooden chair while maintaining proper posture and his feet are at a 90-degree angle. This is a real fantasy come true. What would boy say 5 years ago when he was reading Tumblr stories about this (especially one called “Life with Sir” by traditionaltutor) Now, boy is living this. 

Boy then put his chain collar with a large padlock on and had to spank himself 10 times with his paddle. Boy knows his Sir enjoys it when boy paddles himself properly and harshly so boy was really using force today. This was the heavies spanking boy gave himself to the date. But boy felt satisfied, he knew Sir would enjoy the footage from the camera He installed in the boy´s room. After the spanking, boy had to listen to 3 chastity files his Sir recorded. Every file had to be played twice. In total, boy spent approximately 30 minutes standing, facing his wardrobe, naked only wearing his hood which had him blindfolded. 

Anal training was another task. Boy only started to stretch about 2 weeks ago but can now proudly easily take an average-sized dildo. Good progress. It was needed as then this boy was instructed to put his vibrating Hush plug up his ass. While still naked and hooded, he was now forbidden to use any furniture for an hour. The but plug was turned on for an hour of random vibrations and boy spent an hour, listening to Sir´s files while on the floor, not being able to do anything else as he could not see anything. 

It felt strange. Boy was not doing anything for an hour but it felt like boy was busy. Boy was serving, fulfilling a task from a Superior man and so for this boy, he felt he had a purpose. Funny how not being used, and not being able to do anything can be so hot. 

That hour passed very quickly actually. Time flies when you are having fun. When the task was finished, boy removed the plus and got dressed in his uniform again. Finally. Boy hates every moment when he cannot wear it. Boy feels sad when home alone and not wearing his uniform. But now he was back in it and boy felt safe, boy felt free. Funny, as he was very owned and so far, he spent the whole day fulfilling tasks that someone else gave him. Boy´s free time was dedicated to service and pleasure of someone else. 

But it was time for boy to get his reward, too! It is important to keep this boy horny so the last task of the day was to edge. Boy had no permission to unlock. All he could do was to use the vibrating wand on his cage. While being hooded and still in his uniform, listening to Sir´s voice once again. Boy is not allowed to edge, stroke or cum if not wearing his uniform or a suit. Doing such activity in casual clothing or naked is forbidden. It is not a strict rule but boy knows it feels 100 times better to edge, stroke and cum properly dressed so why would he try something else? 

Boy edged for 30 minutes and he managed to get himself to the edge 26 times. Boy is now so horny. This is day 13 since the last time boy came and edging did not help. 

Boy is so happy, satisfied and eager to please even more! He wants more days like this. He cannot wait to live on his own, to buy a single bed appropriate for boys like this one. This day will be memorable! This is the life this boy wants to live! Serving others!  

[iverlove]

(Ivan Enrique Varela (IverLove))

Beautiful Souls

Today on IverLove's Transforming Hearts in the Souls Gym, I bring you this regression as an exercise to cleanse your body, soul, and heart.

Matthew 22:37 tells us:

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.”

I invite you to live this moment, feel it, and enjoy the power of this regression that I am going to give you to enter a deep reflection with your Inner Self and thus experience the awakening of your consciousness. Feel and live my frequency.

Now! Today you can look at yourself in the mirror and analyze yourself very well; do it for approximately 5 minutes without interruption in a place where you are comfortable without interruptions and if you can make a journal of the daily notes that you are living during our meetings and our exercises.

Write everything that comes to your mind in that journal during those 5 minutes of daily reflection; that encounter with yourself will be the source to start our cleansing of body, soul, and heart.

Write what comes from your heart, how you see yourself, your dreams, your joys, your sadness, and everything beautiful and positive about you.

Although you can also make special notes writing your weaknesses, difficulties, and disappointments; remember that we are going to make a Regression and Review of your Life.

This moment is yours, only for you, and only from you. Now let’s begin.

Our Heavenly Father in his Divine kingdom; an Invisible kingdom where all that is impossible for us! For him Everything is Possible; from there Our Architect the Creator of the Universe created Our Souls with a Mission and Purpose.

The union of the most Divine in the creation of the Universe; Love, With its power between Souls that were Manifested in our third Dimension, and through that powerful union of love you were engendered and selected among approximately 15 million spermatozoon; You were the strongest among them all and for being the chosen one you were assigned a soul from the Celestial realm with purposes and missions to fulfill in the opportunity that the Universe gave you so that you can experience the Journey as a Human Being.

You are a Unique creation, with unique characteristics and gifts; and you were assigned to biological parents who, from your mother's womb cared for you, protected you, loved you, and desired you with all their might, thus making you reach the Light. Your parents and the rest of humanity were already expecting that someone new and divinely created would bring much good news, not only to your family but to Humanity!

What an incredible journey indeed!

So, you were growing up, but it wasn't just on your own, was it! But by the care of your parents, and relatives who through the grace of God gave them what was necessary for your growth. You are something like an Onion; which has many layers, right? And all thanks to the Divine plan created by Our God.

As you go through your formation and growth you continue to depend not only on your parents but on an entire community that saw you grow and enriched you in many aspects, preparing you for the day. But what day? The day when you have to take the baton and be the person you are destined to be during your journey.

Now you come to this moment today! Look at yourself, and see the long road you have traveled, you are here Alive, Full of dreams. The truth of all that you don't know is that: You are still here in this instant, Reading and enjoying this instant, do you know why?

Because that's the way God wants it, Because Our Heavenly Father Loves you! So how can we not love our God with all our Hearts, with all our Souls, and with all our minds?

Breathe dear Soul; you have lived a fascinating Regression; a unique journey of your life now exhale and thank the Almighty God for loving us so much. The key and key for Our God to give you Blessings and make your dreams come true is in Reading, Hearing, and Speaking the Word of God and making His commandments the habit that will lead us to the promised life in Abundance, if you comply with what I just mentioned above you will see your Dreams come true regardless of your age, race, religion, language or sexual orientation.

Very well dear Souls, I am glad you are well; open your eyes, we have arrived again to the Third Dimension where you must do your part so that the Universe gives you everything you need for your evolution.

Many Blessings,

IverLove,

Ivan Enrique Varela.

[asimpforarmin]

What Dog the AoT Characters Would Have 💛

Character(s): Armin Arlert, Sasha Braus, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Bertholdt Hoover, & Annie Leonhardt

Genre: Light-hearted, modern!au

Warnings: Mentions of animal neglect/abuse, some dog breeds commonly perceived as scary, cursing

A/n: I usually include Mikasa in my headcanons, but I just forgot until last minute that she existed ;-; so, sorry for not including her. If someone requests it, I’ll add her to the list.

💛 Armin

His parents got him a beagle puppy for one of his birthdays and he got so attached to it. He was so grateful that he had a dog and absolutely treasures him.

Named him Buddy because he’s his little sidekick and is always fun to play with and snuggle up to.

Buddy almost never shuts up though. A bird flies past the window? He starts barking. A truck goes by? Goes bonkers. He sees himself in the mirror? Shooketh.

Whenever Buddy starts going crazy, Armin picks him up, takes him away from whatever’s bothering him and scratches behind his ears. That makes Buddy practically melt into Armin’s arms and it’s so adorable. 💕

Buddy is very protective over Armin, or as protective as a dog his size could be. He always barks at the doorbell and is very wary of strangers.

If you walk into Armin’s house and Buddy has never seen you before, Armin will be sitting in a chair holding a dog who’s glaring into your soul.

You and Armin will try to have a normal conversation while Buddy is snarling and growling at you with Armin just patting his head and making an expression that says he deals with this all the time.

After a couple visits, Buddy is still tense around you but unwinds once you start playing with him.

Whenever Armin’s studying or working, Buddy will jump up into his lap and snuggle with him.

Sometimes when Armin falls asleep at his desk, he’ll have his arms on the table and Buddy in his lap.

When he’s in the car, Buddy tries to bite cars through the window. He just growls and bangs the glass with his teeth before Armin stops him from chipping a tooth.

Just how Buddy is protective of Armin, Armin’s protective of Buddy.

If someone talks shit about his dog, he’ll get sad about it. Buddy doesn’t deserve to be treated like that, he never hurt anyone.

Buddy can’t be taken to the park because he just agitates other dogs. He never gets along with them and never lets his guard down.

Buddy’s also one of those dogs who gets really dramatic. One time he was laying on the couch with his ball and it rolled off so he just started howling.

It’s also really hard to trim his nails without him growling, even though he’d never bite anyone.

Once Buddy has calmed down around someone, he’s fun to just hang around.

Armin likes to sit on the couch reading with Buddy on his lap or beside him. He’s great to study with or have around.

💛 Sasha

Adopts a 5-year-old blue greyhound from her local shelter.

She’d been volunteering there for a while when the greyhound came in and just couldn’t resist.

With greyhounds being bred to hunt and Sasha coming from a family who has a hunting background, it seemed like a match made in heaven.

She bought her and gave her a bright pink collar with a little dog bone tag with her name etched in it.

Since greyhounds’ necks are so long, she gives her a big knitted scarf to wear in the winter to keep her all nice and cozy.

Was torn between naming her Snickerdoodle or Candy because they’re both cute names and are both foods, but ended up naming her Pumpkin because she couldn’t decide and Pumpkin’s a really cute name as well.

Sasha loves playing fetch with her and it’s so fun because Pumpkin can run really fast, really far.

Pumpkin almost never barks unless she’s having fun or there’s someone at the door.

Sasha’s bed is lofted by a couple feet for storage and Pumpkin has no problem getting on and off her bed.

The first time Pumpkin saw Sasha’s bed, she didn’t know what to do so just sat there looking up at Sasha. It took a couple minutes for her to realize Sasha patting the bed meant she could jump onto it.

Sasha allows her dog on any of the furniture so there’s short hairs all over the couch no matter what.

Pumpkin’s really kind and gentle around kids so Sasha can basically take her anywhere. She’s super well behaved but sometimes scares people because she jumps in excitement.

Sasha also shares her food with her dog all the time. Always packs extra whenever she goes somewhere so she can give some to Pumpkin.

If you moved in with Sasha, Pumpkin would take to you right away.

She would literally be so sweet and always make you happy all the time. 😭💕

Plays tug of war and fetch a lot with you.

If you’re working/eating at a desk, she’ll lean her head on your leg until you pet her or give her food, or both.

Overall, Pumpkin is so sweet and adorable. She will always cheer you up when you need it and always has enough energy to play.

💛 Jean

Adopted a pitbull who is now 6, but was brought into a fighting ring when he was 4.

He knew it would be a challenge to help an abused dog but wanted to give him a good home.

When he first saw him, he was covered in scars and missing part of his ear.

He named him Kane. He’s a beautiful deep reddish-brown color with a white belly.

From the first moment they met, there was a connection. Kane warmed up to Jean quite quickly for a dog who’s been through so much.

Jean took him home and slowly introduced him to lifestyle changes, like going for walks or taking baths.

He introduces him to other dogs too. Kane showed a little hostility in the beginning, but once he realized they weren’t threats he was fine being around them.

Jean pays top dollar for him. Any issue he has, he takes him to the vet and gets it fixed up. He also gets the best food for him because that’s what he deserves.

Kane loves going for car rides. Sometimes Jean will get in the car with him, no destination in mind, and just drive.

Jean rolls the window down and Kane pokes his head outside. His mouth opens and because of the wind going into it, he showers the window behind him in slobber.

Kane absolutely loves swimming. He’s quite good at it, but Jean still takes a lot of safety precautions, such as a life jacket or shallow water because pitbulls are known to be somewhat bad swimmers.

Every summer, Jean takes out a kiddie pool and lets Kane splash around in it.

He also really likes to turn on the hose or sprinkler and aim it at Kane. He jumps up to bite the water and they both have a great time.

It can be a problem though because when Jean’s trying to fill the pool up, Kane keeps batting the hose with his paw or trying to eat the water and Jean has to get him to relax.

Other than his little quirks, Kane’s a relatively chill dog. He’s alright with being dressed up in costumes or having to wear a cone.

Every halloween, Jean gets both of them a matching costume and they sit on the porch to give kids candy.

Jean also lets the kids pet Kane because over time, he gets very welcoming of people and other dogs he doesn’t know.

Long story short, Kane’s not the dog you want to protect your house, if someone broke in, he’d just start wagging his tail and not be able to tell what’s going on.

💛 Connie

Saw how cool Jean’s dog is and also wanted a badass and cool breed.

He ended up adopting a doberman pinscher.

Like Jean’s dog, she looks strong and intimidating.

Unlike Jean’s dog, she acts the complete opposite of how she looks.

She’s often quite jittery or seems scared. Whenever someone even remotely raises their voice, her ears go down and she lowers her head.

You and Connie often have to give her tons of pets and appreciation after shouting, whether it’s good or bad shouting.

She’s also a total cuddlebug. She loves to be on Connie’s lap 24/7 and sleeps right next to him, watching over him.

Because of her timid personality, Connie named her Lily. It’s a sweet and innocent sounding name. Even though he sought her out to be a “cool” dog, she’s super sweet and didn’t want to name her something that conflicted with who she really was.

One thing about Lily is she loves running. Connie likes to skateboard alongside her as she pulls him along. It’s not much effort for her because Connie’s lightweight and uses his feet a lot. Plus, the area they live is pretty flat, so they often do.

Lily has a hard time understanding what is and isn’t a toy. One time she nearly chewed off one of the sofa legs. Next time Connie sat on it, it snapped and then he figured out Lily was behind it.

After that, he trained her to know everything he puts in her basket is a toy, but everything else isn’t. Then, she used the basket as a toy.

She goes through toys lightning quick.

Every time you or Connie give her a new stuffed animal, it takes approximately .2 seconds for it to be torn to shreds.

Connie loves to take her to PetSmart and let her pick out toys in-store.

If she chooses a toy that means Connie won’t need to guess what she likes and what she doesn’t.

One time she chose one of those scented rope toys, but once Connie took the packaging off, she started acting weirdly.

Once he gave it to her, she started barking at it and whacking it with her paw.

Connie was super confused so he threw it and she chased after it like normal, but once she got close to it she started acting scared of it and barking.

It’s been like that ever since now so they just don’t play with that toy.

Lily doesn’t bark that often. She usually only barks from excitement or when she meets someone new.

She also doesn’t have the zoomies that much so she’s a really relaxed dog to hang with.

💛 Bertholdt

Bertholdt saw his neighbors packing their stuff in a van one day and leaving but saw they left their samoyed leashed up outside.

He wanted to hold out hope that they were just going out somewhere for a bit so waited the rest of the night but found the dog still chained up the next morning in the rain.

He was never close to his neighbors and didn’t want any confrontation so he went up and knocked on the door, checking if anyone was home.

No surprise, they weren’t so he cautiously made his way over to the dog.

It was so happy to see someone and started licking his hand right away.

He unchained the dog and led it into his house where he gave it a nice warm bath and some food.

While bathing her, he took off her collar, with the neighbor’s number and address engraved in it along with her name, Mavis.

While Mavis was eating he called the number he found on her tag. He explained that the dog looked like it was left there on purpose so he took it in until they got home. They just said they didn’t want her anymore and hung up, which broke Bertholdt’s heart.

So he took her to the vet, got some pet things because he hasn’t owned a pet previously and she became a big part of his life.

She clings to him everywhere and won’t ever leave his side. Almost never barks and is super good on a leash.

Bertholdt takes her to the dog park a lot, Mavis is very social and has made a lot of friends there.

Mavis has quite the habit of rolling around in the mud or dirt though so Bertholdt has to give her a bath quite often.

Bertholdt absolutely cannot contain the dog hair. There is so much of it and it’s everywhere, went through like 3 lint rollers in the first week.

He spoils her rotten. Whenever he goes shopping he gets her new treats and toys because he swore to do right by her when her old owners didn’t.

If you were brought into the equation, Mavis would love you unconditionally. She’ll be there to give you high-fives and cuddle with you.

She is the softest thing on the planet so the cuddles are amazing. If you and Bertholdt sleep together, she’ll plop herself right in between the both of you so she could get attention until you fall asleep.

Whenever she needs something but isn’t up, she licks your face until you give her what she wants.

Even though she can get quite hot in the summer, she always wants to cuddle and loves to do it, whether it’s with you or Bertholdt.

💛 Annie (normally I don’t write for her but I couldn’t get this scenario out of my head)

Hitch gave her a chihuahua for her birthday even though she never remotely hinted at wanting a dog.

She didn’t want to return it though and oddly liked it, even though she never asked for him.

Just calls him “Dog” for a bit since she doesn’t know what to name him.

He’s a tan deer head dog so Annie gives him the name “Biscuit” after a couple weeks.

It’s super generic but she doesn’t think he needs any fancy name and he looks like a biscuit so 🤷🏻‍♀️

She has one of the backpacks with a compartment to fit a dog.

She likes to put Biscuit in there and take him out when she goes out.

When Annie takes him out, Biscuit is usually pretty chill, aside from giving a couple glares to random people.

Sometimes he even falls asleep in her backpack.

Whenever someone pisses Annie off, Biscuit senses it. Annie isn’t usually one to get into a full-blow fight and be loud, so Biscuit is her volume. Whenever she starts going off, he starts growling and barking.

And when she does get loud, both of them are yelling and screaming so that often deters the other person.

When she first got Biscuit, Annie didn’t really pay that much attention to him. She’d be on the couch and whenever he came up to her with a ball or toy, she’d throw it.

Then as she started to get used to him, she started to like him more.

Nowadays, she sometimes chases him around the house with a smile on her face and it’s so adorable, especially because she doesn’t smile all too often.

Biscuit is relatively calm, even for a chihuahua. He can often be seen on the couch on his back with his tongue out laying in the sun.

Speaking of being on the couch, originally Annie wanted to keep him off all furniture but soon realized he simply wouldn’t stay off and she didn’t want to bother to train him not to.

Now, they share almost everything. She sleeps with him next to her, they relax on the couch together, and sometimes she even brings him up on one of the kitchen chairs and they share food together.

Biscuit hates her alarm clock with a passion. If Annie doesn’t wake up from the alarm, she wakes up from the high pitched barks of her dog wanting her to turn it off.

Once the two are close, they are bonded for life and can be seen everywhere together.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag AU

As Inuyasha and Kagome cut through a park on their way back to the Higurashi home, they chatted casually, just winding down after a hearty lunch at a nearby cafe. The couple stayed to the pathways traversing the manicured park. It would be shorter to cut through the grass, but why the rush? It was a beautiful location, with a several different kinds of trees dotting the landscape to provide shade and lots of open space for all kinds of activities. Some picnicked, flew kites or played frisbee, they’d even passed a group doing Tai Chi. There were young families to older citizens enjoying the scenery. The couples conjoined hands and twined fingers swayed lazily back and forth between them. Despite the summer heat starting to rise in Tokyo, with blue skies and a gentle breeze brought in from the Pacific Ocean, it was a perfect day for a stroll.

While this journey towards normalcy hasn’t always been an easy one, the past couple of months have been the happiest so far. Ever since leaving the hospital Kagome’s felt better and better. There were even moments she’d made peace with the idea she may not regain her memories. Was it saddening yes, because she wouldn’t remember her job, friends, and other precious moments. But at the same time, she could always make new ones. Sango’s twins were still young. She could relearn her job, and best of all she had Inuyasha who’d she’d become attached to. Their steadily growing relationship was a budding romance regardless of their past history. Think about? Kagome had a chance to re-experience everything in a new way, through a new lens. Well… that’s what she told herself to justify the idea, and so far, it was working.

But there were strange moments starting to occur. Sometimes they were dreams of scenes Kagome didn’t recognize. That in of itself weren’t unusual because how often do dreams ever make complete sense? No, it was in the emotions that came with them. On several occasions Kagome would wake up with the distinct feeling these were not merely dreams but memories trying to break through. At other times, she couldn’t remember the dream, only the emotions she’d felt during them. Sometimes they were so intense, she’d wake up in tears or completely happy for no other reason. According to her neurologist, this was normal during the healing process, but unfortunately there was no true way to tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

“Did I tell you I reached out to Ms. Tanaka the other day?” Kagome asked Inuyasha.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.���

“I called the office and spoke to her briefly about maybe getting lunch one day so she could tell me how things have been there. I may not know exactly what she’s talking about, but maybe it’ll jog my memories.”

Inuyasha lifted their conjoined hands and kissed the back of hers. “I think that’s a really good idea. You guys will have fun talking.”

“I think so too, she seemed very nic—…” Kagome’s voice trailed away as stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes shifted towards one of the parks trees. “Um, c-could we check out that tree?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” Inuyasha smiled knowingly.

It was like her feet gained a mind of their own as they carried her towards a large Sakura tree in the middle of a field. Just from looking at, there wasn’t anything special about the tree. Spring had long since passed and the blooms were no more. But Kagome felt a pull towards this one in particular as if she remembered something about it. What that was she had no idea. She let go of Inuyasha’s hand and reached out, touching the bark of the tree, and staring up at its massive girth. It looked old. Maybe there long before the park existed… maybe older than even the Edo period, who knew? It was just another green leafed tree, yet why was it stirring up a rush of emotions? Happy ones with butterflies dancing in her soul.

Slowly, she moved around the base of the tree like a surveyor mapping it out or searching for secrets only it could provide. And that’s when she saw it. Kagome’s breathing hitched as her eyes fell upon a carving in the wood, approximately five feet above the ground. There, a bit worn nonetheless was a heart encircling two names. “Kagome…” She read aloud, “& Inuyasha—

Oh, my Kami!” She gasped, both hands flying up to cover her mouth in shock. “H-How? When?”

At that moment, Inuyasha walked over, gazing at the words and running his hand over the carving while he spoke. “We carved this about two years ago.” He smiled, eyes crinkling, and growing moist as if reminiscing. “It was a late Saturday afternoon and after eating an early dinner at Genki Sukiyaki, we cut through this park to get to your house. But it started to rain, not very heavy, so we took shelter under this tree.” Inuyasha chuckled lightly. “I remember you being upset about your hair getting wet.” He finally looked to Kagome, placing a hand on her cheek. “You looked so beautiful and even though the weather was miserable, there was just something magical about it all. That’s when you asked me to carve this into the tree.”

“But how did I know to look for it?” Kagome was so confused. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I have no idea how. But part of you must. Maybe, it’s a sign your memories are fighting to come through.”

The tears gathering in Kagome’s eyes, trickle down her cheeks as a blend of happiness and sadness. She wanted to be happy for such a beautiful memory but devastated that she couldn’t remember it. She wanted to be excited that maybe, just maybe it could be true that her memories were returning, yet she didn’t want to take the chance of a let-down. Inuyasha pulled her into a tight hug as she let go of the angsty emotions. “It’s not fair that I can’t remember! I want to remember!”

“Shhh,” Inuyasha who’s own tears begun to spill, did his best to soothe her with softened tones. “I want that too. It’s gonna get better baby. I think this really is your memories returning, we just have to believe.”

“It’s hard to do that sometimes…”

Inuyasha lifted her chin and swept his thumbs over her cheeks to dry them. “And if you don’t, we’re creating a whole new memory of this tree right now, an even more special one.”

Kagome sniffled. “You think so?”

He nodded his head and placed a gentle kiss on her whetted lips. “What do you think?” Inuyasha questioned with a soft smile. “How can we add to this memory?”

Kagome paused for a moment in thought. “We could add something beneath our names… like… mmm, forever in time?”

“Is that what you want?” She nodded yes. “Okay,” Inuyasha obliged.

He kissed her again then used his claw to slowly, meticulously carve the new words into the bark. It took a few minutes because he wanted to make sure it was easy to read and would last a long time. “I think this is definitely will better than the original memory.”

“Mmhmm, it’s a good one,” Kagome agreed. She felt a lot better now. “Thank you, Inuyasha for being so patient with me. It must be so frustrating.”

Inuyasha shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m not glad about the accident, but I’m cherishing all this time I’m spending with you. Kagome, I truly mean it when I say, this moment right here,” he took her hand. “It’s now one of the happiest moments you’ve ever given me. No matter what,” he smiled, “I’ll always love you, forever in time.”

She giggled. “Forever… I like the sound of that…”

After the incident at the park, Kagome brought it up with the neuropsychologist assigned to her case. The woman patiently sat in her chair as Kagome told her every little detail. What she felt, the emotions, her thoughts, and reactions. She also brought up the dreams she’d been having as well as small incidents that caused her to feel like it might be memories trying to come through.

“Like, just the other day,” Kagome explained. “Sango accompanied me to the hospital for my last physical check-up, but as we passed by the nursery, we decided to stop to look at the cute babies. Then out of nowhere I started to feel emotional, nothing bad, just happy as she talked about the birth of her twins. I mean, yeah it makes sense to feel happy at the time because we were having a good time, but it just felt different. I almost felt like crying. Why is that??”

The woman finished jotting down her notes before speaking. “It’s been about 5 months, correct, since you lost your memories?” Kagome nodded yes. “And according to your latest evaluations, your brain has healed quite nicely. It’s not uncommon at this point for triggers to manifest themselves.”

“I don’t understand…”

“The way long term memory retention works, our brains must process information and create new neurocircuitry, storage if you will once the information has been deemed necessary to keep in the long term. If not, our short term memories are discarded quickly. Of course, this is just a basic explanation and there’s more to it, but what studies have found is memories attached to an emotional event have a higher likelihood of being retained and will evoke a stronger response from us. Think of it like, these emotional memories are much more deeply attached to our psyches.”

“Oh— I think I understand.”

“Mmm,” the doctor hummed. “The park incident was attached to a very emotional moment in your life. So even though you couldn’t remember the event itself, the part of you that remembered the emotions surrounding it did and pushed you towards the tree. Also, the hospital, you mentioned being with your friend Sango and looking at babies. This is just a guess, but perhaps you were feeling the emotions you felt from the time she gave birth.”

As the doctors words were processed, moisture began to pool in Kagome’s eyes. Could it really be true?! Should she really allow herself to hope?! When Kagome finally responded, her voice cracked as it held back the tears. “D-Does this mean… I’m starting to get my memories back?”

“I would say, yes. Again, I cannot say one hundred percent certain, but what you are experiencing is a common one. Those that suffered from acute memory loss, don’t just wake up one day and suddenly they’ve all returned. It’s a gradual process, but once it begins it typically continues at a steady pace.”

“I-I don’t know what to say!” A few happy tears joined the smile on Kagome’s face.

“I suggest that you start writing down the times you feel something or think you’re remembering something and check them with your family and friends. If they confirm it, talk about it. That could help as well to bring more information and memories to the forefront— give your brain a little help to jog itself.”

“Thank you so much, doctor! I’ll definitely do that!”

The woman smiled, reaching over to pat Kagome’s hand before giving it a small squeeze. “You’re very welcome. I wish you all the luck in the world!”

[rainy-day-gracie]

Old Friends 5

Chapter 5!! Sorry I was busy today and didn’t get a chance to post it

Spencer Reid x Reader

Spencer helps Reader deal with nightmares. 

Chapter 5:

Coffee was an everyday thing for me. But recently it has become a necessity.

The nightmares started after the case in my hometown, and I’ve barely slept since. Not for lack of trying. 

I had my second cup of coffee before noon, and Morgan gave me a face. “Did the pretty girl get laid last night?”

I laughed bitterly. “Far from it I’m afraid.”

“Are you sure? Those bags under your eyes tell a different story.” Morgan continued to pester me all until I sat at my desk. He just chuckled and walked away. 

JJ came by to drop a stack of files on my desk, and she gave me a look too. “Did you get laid last night?” 

I dropped the pen I was holding. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Did you?” JJ persisted. 

“Sorry to disappoint you JJ, but no I didn’t.” I faked a sad face. “Just a late night, that’s all.” Or a couple weeks worth of late nights. 

In the desk next to me, Spencer gave me a look but didn’t say anything. 

Hotch suddenly ran out of his office and knocked on Rossi’s door. They spoke a few words, and turned to look at us. “Everyone, grab your go bag. We’ll brief on the jet. Wheels up in 10.”

---

“Holden Baxley, a friend of mine from the Boston field office called me an hour ago. He couldn’t go into details, but long story short, a suicide bomber that hasn’t been identified walked into Boston PD with a bomb strapped to his chest.”

“Oh god,” JJ breathed. “What happened then?” 

Hotch closed his eyes. “The bomb went off, and half of the Boston police department blew out with it.”

The jet was silent. 

“How many casualties?” Morgan asked. 

“17 and counting, 23 wounded.”

“Do they think it’s a one time explosion?” I could only imagine the kind of panic this would have in the city. 

“No, because a note was left at the press two minutes before the bomber even walked into the station. The note read ‘God’s wrath will be unleashed on all who disrespect the word of the Lord.’”

“Old Testament much?” Rossi looked around the jet. “The fact that the news station is across town from Boston PD makes me think there’s more than one or two unsubs.”

“Guys,” I started. “What if it’s a cult turned terrorist cell?” 

“That is possible, especially if the leader is a psychopath that suffered a loss and blames Boston PD.” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “The leader could’ve involved others that feel the same and want revenge against law enforcement. By taking on the persona of the wrath of God, they likely aren’t going to stop until they wreak ultimate havoc on the city in the name of religion.” 

“We have to find them before they strike again. YLN, Reid, go to the explosion site. Prentiss, Morgan, set up in the Boston Field Office. JJ, Rossi and I will interview families of the victims and witnesses of the explosion. Try and work quickly. Something tells me we don’t have a lot of time.” Hotch didn’t miss a beat. “The wrath of God is about to be unleashed upon Boston.” 

---

The entire right side of Boston PD was blown out into the street beside it. Crowds of citizens and TV news channels flooded the streets, barely being kept back by the lines of yellow tape. 

“Spencer, how are we going to respond to the press?” I asked as we pulled up in the SUV. 

“No comment, for now.” 

As soon as we stepped out of the SUV, reporters and citizens alike screamed and shouted questions. 

“Is this the work of terrorists?” “How do we know if we’re safe?” “What do you have to say to the victim’s families?” 

“No comment.” Spencer and I held up our badges and ducked under the yellow tape. 

“The psycho that blew the place up was blown to smithereens as well. We didn’t find any kind of ID on him.” A Boston FBI agent approached us. “Larry Dillman, Boston FBI.” He offered his hand to Spencer and I took it before it got too awkward when Spencer didn’t shake it. 

“I’m SSA Dr. YFN YLN and this is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Where was the approximate location of the original blast?” 

Dillman walked us through what was left of the front door. “About right there, when he walked into the main hall. It was noon, so there were more people busying about. That’s partly why the body count is so high.” 

“Do you know if he said anything when he walked in?” Spencer asked. 

“Witnesses have said he just yelled ‘Matthew 10:34’ and boom.” 

“‘Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.’” Spencer recited. 

“He is literally using the Bible as his scapegoat to commit terrorism.” I looked up at Spencer. “We need to get to the station.”

---

After checking out the explosion we hurried back to the station. “Hotch!” I called out. “He’s using God as a scapegoat to terrorize Boston. The massive rage confirms that they aren’t going to stop.”

“Excuse me, Agents,” a woman stood up from her desk. “There’s someone on line 1 wanting to talk to an agent from the BAU.”

Hotch pulled Rossi up to the phone and gestured to Morgan. “Call Garcia to track the call.”

Rossi slowly picked up the phone. “Hello, this is SSA David Rossi with the FBI. To whom am I speaking?”

“Is it too pretentious to say your worst nightmare?” The voice said. Obviously using a voice modulator, classic paranoid narcissist by building himself up to be some almighty being. 

“Are you responsible for the attack on Boston PD?” Rossi asked. “Michael Devons incited massive panic with a small IED.” 

“Boston PD? You mean that building full of liars, cheaters, and sinners?”

“God speaks of forgiveness, but you seem to carry a lot of hatred.” Rossi looked over all of us. “Are your friends listening to this phone call as well?”

The caller was silent for a while. “You may think we see this as a game, but we don’t. God plays no games with the people he creates.” The line goes dead and I release a breath I’ve been holding since he called. 

“Garcia couldn’t track it, probably using a disposable cell phone,” Morgan pointed to the crime scene photos. “These guys are smart, using voice modulators, ensuring their members die for the cause, so why would they call us for no apparent reason?”

“A game...” I mumbled. “You make think we see this as a game...”

“What is it, YLN?” Prentiss asked me. 

    I gasped. “What if they’re testing us? That’s why they called, to see if we could figure out their next target... Fenway Park. Are there any baseball games today?” 

“Slow down, brainy lady,” Morgan said slowly. “What are you thinking?”

“He said, ‘You may think we see this as a game, but we don’t.’ What if he wasn’t talking about the bombings but the baseball games? That’s all about choosing sides and that’s something God forbids. They would see every person in that stadium as a sinner.” I looked Hotch in the eyes. “The next target is Fenway Park, it has to be.” 

Hotch pointed to the head of the field office. “Are there any baseball games at Fenway Park today?”

“Yeah, Sox versus Yankees.”

“We gotta get over there,” Hotch said and we all ran out the doors. “Swat will meet us there.” 

---

“We can’t evacuate the stadium, that would set the bomber off early if they see people leaving,” Hotch explained as we got on our tactical gear. “Search the stadium, most likely they’re under the stands.” 

“What do we do if we find the bomber?” JJ asked. 

“Try to talk them down, if you can’t... shoot straight. Let’s go.” 

The nearly empty corridors of Fenway Park were eerie as I walked by myself. Every now and then I would hear noise from the fans, and the smell of cheap nachos filled the air. 

As I approached concessions, I looked at all the people in line. A young couple giggling at each other, a man probably in his 70s, a pregnant woman pushing a stroller. 

And an isolated young man with a giant overcoat. As soon as he caught sight of me, the guy bolted. 

“FBI! Out of the way!” I yelled. “Stop right there and put your hands up!”

To my surprise, he actually stopped. 

“Put your hands on your head and turn around slowly. Everyone else, clear out of here.”

The man turned around, a smug smile on his face. “Romans 1:18!”

He started to unbuckle his overcoat. 

He didn’t get the chance when I shot him between the eyes. 

I took a shaky breath and called into my comm. “Suspect is down. Get bomb squad in here to take care of the explosive. Fifty feet away from concessions.”

The smile was still frozen on his face, even though half of his head was blown out.

---

I was quiet on the jet ride back. He wasn’t my first kill, but my first one with the BAU, and that was sure to ensue even more sleepless nights. 

Spencer sat across from me. “You were even more impressive than usual with this case. Somehow you always raise the bar.” 

“No kidding,” Rossi said in passing. 

“So are you going to tell me about this nightmare you’re having or...” Spencer gave me a look. “You know talking about it will help.”

“Spencer-“

“Talk to me.” I could see in his eyes he wasn’t going to give up. 

“Well, it starts out with me sitting with a teenage girl. She’s a patient, and she was talking about how her teacher was... messing with her. Slowly she disappears, and the room transforms into... my mom’s bedroom. She’s standing there, yelling at me. Except the louder she yells, the more blood comes out of her mouth.” I shake my head. “I try and help her, but no sound would come out. She wraps her hand around my throat, screaming at me and spitting blood in my face. I wake up before she brings her fist down on my jaw. 

Spencer was quiet for a while. “...Could it be the apartment making the nightmares worse? Sometimes a change of scenery helps distract the subconscious from the nightmares.” Spencer twirled a pen through his fingers, and his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Maybe, whenever I’m lying awake in my bed I’m looking around my bedroom instead of relaxing.”

Spencer thought about something. “Well... you could stay the night at my place if you want. I could sleep on the couch and you can take the bed.” I could see his nervousness in his darting eyes and twitchy hands. 

I smile. “Spencer, that’s really nice but you don’t have to-“

“No, no. I want to help.” And I could tell he was serious. 

“Okay sure, but on one condition- I take the couch and you sleep in your own bed.” 

Spencer huffed a laugh. “Fine.”

---

The plane landed at 10:12 at night. Not super late, but after this case, everyone wanted to go to bed. 

Hotch had made an announcement on the jet that we could take a half day tomorrow and come in at noon. 

“Can’t wait to sleep in until 11:45,” Morgan joked on the elevator.

Since Spencer takes the train to work everyday, he hopped in my passengers seat and immediately made a face. 

“What is it?” I asked, confused. 

“Your car is disgusting,” Spencer said. “I’ve seen shantytowns cleaner than this.”

“Oh, shut up Mr. Cleanliness. A couple food wrappers does not make me a slob,” I lightly punched him in the shoulder as I pulled out of the parking garage. 

“It’s more than a couple,” Spencer muttered. 

“I’ve starting to regret agreeing to a sleepover, pretty boy.” 

---

Sitting on Spencer’s couch eating popcorn and watching Doctor Who felt so much like college that I completely forgot about the fact that I could’ve been blown up today. 

We were still watching Doctor Who on the couch when my eyes fell heavy. Slowly, my head rested on Spencer’s shoulder and started to doze off. 

I was barely awake when I felt Spencer press a light kiss on my forehead. 

His lips felt the same as they did in college. 

[winter-soldier-vibes]

All I ever do is run (Bucky x depressed reader)

All i ever do is run

Bucky x depressed reader

Word count 1576

Warnings: depression

-----------------------

You were a happy person. You loved being around people, making them laugh, and you lit up any room you walked into. You were high energy and hard working. And you were always there for the rest of the team in the Tower, helping them get through the roughest times and the hardest missions. Everything was perfect. Except for one thing

It was all a lie. 

You didn’t know when it started or why it started - although you had some solid assumptions - but what you did know was that you couldn’t talk about it. Or maybe you didn’t want to. Or maybe you were too scared to. You didn't really care, as long as you kept it hidden. And so, you put on this façade for everyone. Fake smiles replaced your real ones without a trace. No matter how much you wanted to stay in bed, you forced yourself to face the day. Even if that meant getting up before the sun to train with Steve. And if anyone ever suspected anything, you’d laugh it off and change the subject. 

And you made it by pretty well. And by that, you meant no one had caught onto your act yet. It had been at least….4 months since it started? Again, you weren’t quite sure what the trigger was. But inside...it had started taking its toll on you.

You weren’t really sleeping well anymore. Or at all. You used a concealer to hide the dark circles under your eyes that showed pure exhaustion. And on top of that, you were also emotionally exhausted. Being happy was hard work, and it was becoming a second full time job for you. Your energy was weening, and you had mellowed out to slightly below normal energy levels. It was becoming immensely difficult to contain the sadness that was eating you alive with each passing day. 

Maybe you did want to tell someone. But you didn’t feel like you could,

So you kept it inside, smiling when anyone was looking but dropping it as soon as you went behind closed doors. And some of the team was starting to worry about you. Steve was the first, but he was always worried about everyone on the team. Bucky too, but he noticed because he, well….He was developing feelings for you. Not that you knew - if you did, maybe you wouldn’t be trying to suppress your own feelings for him. He didn't say anything, because he wasn’t entirely sure what was bothering you, or if you really were just tired. But pretty soon, he would have his question answered

You got the text from Steve at 2:43 in the morning:

Mission. Hostage situation. Meet us on the roof. We leave in 15.

You groaned in response. It's not like you were sleeping anyways, but you were so goddamn tired. The kind of tired that you feel aching in your bones, that no amount of sleep could cure. 

You rolled out of bed because you didn’t really have a choice at the moment. It took you 5 minutes to suit up and head up to the roof, where Steve and Bucky were waiting. You were just waiting on Nat now. 

“Y/N, you feeling okay?” Bucky asked

You wanted to groan, but that would give you away. It was way too early for this kind of thing. “Yeah Buck. I’m fine.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look...awful.”

You shot him a glare. “Gee, thanks. I just woke up. But really,” you shook your head and shrugged, “I’m just tired.”

He looked at you with concern written all over his face. “Yeah, I gathered that, but you look like you haven’t slept in days. Weeks even.” It was now that you realized you had forgotten to put a concealer on. This was the first time anyone was seeing the dark circles under your eyes. You looked away trying to figure out a way to talk around this, but just then Nat came on the quinjet and you prepped for launch. Before you could say anything, bucky said softly, “We’ll talk about this when we get back.”

Great. That gave you approximately 4 hours to think of some excuse. And around 3 of those hours were going to be spent kicking HYDRA ass.

The battle was brutal, and you nearly made 3 lethal mistakes because you were distracted thinking about this impending conversation you were going to be forced into later. Nothing serious happened, but you got a few more gashes than was necessary had you been more focused. 

Steve was obviously worried about you, giving you his Cap speech on reckless behavior on the ride back, but you tuned him out, merely nodding along. You were still thinking about the excuse you still hadn’t come up with. And you kept stealing sideways glances at Bucky, who you would catch staring at you as if trying to figure out what was wrong. 

When you landed, you booked it down to your room, the sun now rising. You heard footsteps following you, but you didn’t really care. When you got to your room and moved to close the door behind you, something blocked the way. You looked up to see Bucky with his foot jammed in the doorway. You sighed and looked away. “Please, Barnes, can’t this wait? I told you I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, doll.”  he offered, noticing how evasive you were being. How much you really didn’t seem to want to have this conversation. Which made him believe it was every bit more necessary to have it. 

You tried again, desperation setting in. you felt like you were going to break any second. “Please Bucky just...not right now, I can’t…” you took a breath, unable to finish your sentence without crying. 

“Y/N, what are you trying to run away from?” You looked up at him when he said this, and you could feel your hands start to shake. “Because it isn’t working. And I’m really worried about you.”

And that was when you realized.

All I ever do is run…

Tears started pooling in your eyes and you staggered back, and Bucky took that as an invitation to come in. He closed the door behind him and he either hugged you or caught you as your knees buckled. Both happened at the same time. Sobs overtook your body and you clung to his suit, dirty with sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t hide this, you couldn’t run any longer. 

Bucky held you tightly, a bit taken aback by the sudden wave of emotion. He had known you had been hiding something, but Christ, this was way worse than he thought it would be.  He held your trembling body as you cried, you repeating “I’m sorry,” nd him shushing you, and telling you that it was going to be okay.

How long you sat together on the floor,you weren’t sure. But eventually your tears slowed and your breathing became more even. After a few more minutes of sitting there in the silence, your eyes widened with realization.

What the FUCK had you just done?

 You tried to wriggle out of the embrace, stumbling over your words, “I- I’m sorry Buck, y-you weren’t s-supposed to see that…” Buck only tightened his grip on you, saying “Stop that. You’ve been holding this in for too long. I noticed something was wrong, but I didn’t realize how bad it was. I’m sorry Y/N.” You looked down as he pulled back to look at you, still keeping a gentle grip on your shoulders. “You aren’t sleeping are you?” You shook your head. “Do you remember the last time you slept?”

You shook your head again and croaked out a “No…”

You heard him sigh, but it wasn’t in annoyance or exasperation, it was more because he was mad at himself for not saying something sooner. “What else has been going on?”

Before you could stop yourself, you whispered “Me.”

“What do you me-”

“You asked me what I’m trying to run from.” You met his gaze again, new tears forming in your eyes. “I’m trying to run from myself Buck. but it's not working. I don’t know the last time i was actually happy was. I don’t sleep anymore, I just...can’t. I'm always so tired and sad and it’s so hard to pretend like everything’s fine, but...It’s not.”

You saw his face soften, but still etched with worry. “How long has this been going on?” You shrug and say “I dunno. Months I guess.”

You saw him swallow before he continued, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged again, offering a weak “I didn’t feel like I could.” Fresh tears spilling over, Bucky wrapped his arms around you again. “Does anyone else know?” You offered a dry laugh. “I mean, I’m sure Steve knows something’s  up, because he is Steve after all, but no one knows what you didn’t know before coming in here.”

He sighed again, trying to figure out what to do. He just wanted to help you. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just please, don’t leave. Don’t leave me alone right now. I’m so tired of being alone.”

He smiled and ran a hand up and down your back. “Anything you want, doll.”

[skullrock]

the partners | Steve x Reader

chapter one: please, please, please, let me get what I want 

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: Steve finally agrees to hang out outside of work. 

warnings: swearing, 80s music 

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this chapter is mainly a ton of exposition, but it’s gonna get better I PROMISE. huge thank ya to @wolfish-willow​ who gave me some beautiful ideas (milky coffee + danish loving Steve) that helped this fic come to fruition <3 enjoy!

--

You pull into Hawkin’s Police Department at 7:30, a half hour before your shift. There are two coffees in the cup holders of your car, and a paper bag filled with two pastries on the passenger seat. You pull in beside your partner’s car and he hops out, a smile plastered on his face. He crawls into your passenger side and grabs the bag.

“This one’s yours,” you say, pointing to the coffee cup marked milk w/ dash of coffee. He laughs, pulling out his blueberry danish and handing you your strawberry donut. He bites into his pastry and lets out a sinful moan, making you smack his arm.

“It’s too early for you to be gross,” you say, but he looks victorious.

“I’m sorry you don’t like my happiness,” he quips, and you roll your eyes.

It was tradition that every Monday that you both worked, you’d get coffee and pastries from the local bakery and shoot the shit in your car until your shift started.

“So, I had a dream last night where I was dating Mia Sara,” he says.

“Wish that were me,” you reply, taking a sip of coffee. “Did it work out for you guys?”

“Nah, she left me for Harrison Ford.”

“Tragic.”

He pauses, listening to the music softly coming from your radio. He scoffs upon realizing what was playing.

“Stop listening to this sad shit,” he says, turning the dial, making you shout.

“It’s the Smiths!” You try to bat his hand away, but he manages to change the channel to a Queen song. Typical.

You and Steve had become good friends after securing your positions, despite your perception of him in high school. After the fire at Starcourt and the death of Jim Hopper, the federal government had given the Hawkins Police a grant to let aspiring cops train directly in the field. It would fast-track getting certified, eliminating the need for expensive schooling. It was like a paid internship. A paid internship where you basically get paid to bullshit with your best friend all day.

A third car pulls in. It’s Veronica, the secretary. She takes over on days that Flo wants off – she’s worked hard enough for it. Veronica was a bit obsessed with Steve, so he groaned when he saw her get out and wave.

“What do you think she’s going to say to you today?” you giggle, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Probably, like… that she had a dream about us last night, or something.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “God, please don’t let her talk to me.”

Women were throwing themselves at Steve the minute he put the uniform on, but he claimed he wasn’t interested in dating. You weren’t really sure why, given his history, but he never answered any questions. He just said he wanted to focus on work and having fun, so you let him.

Steve was kind of a mystery to you. You were incredibly close at the station, but you’d been working with him for a few months and you never saw each other outside of work. There were talks of maybe going to a movie, but they never went anywhere. It was bizarre, considering how fond you both were of each other. But you didn’t want to push it, unsure if you were making him uncomfortable.

In reality, Steve was just nervous of letting people in. Not just because of his history with girls and friends, but because he also had Russians and demons to worry about. He felt that if he let anyone new into his life, he would be putting them in mortal danger. This viewpoint is also the reason why he applied for the apprenticeship in the first place.

When the position popped up, Steve had no second thoughts. He had looked up to Hopper greatly since the time Will was possessed. He knew without a doubt that he wanted to follow in Hop’s footsteps. But he also felt an obligation now that Hopper was dead. Joyce had left, taking Will and Eleven with her. The three people who had the best grip on the strange events that had occurred the past three years were gone, and the man who devised most of the plans (and executed them) was gone, too. Steve couldn’t sleep at night for months. He needed to constantly call the kids and Robin to make sure they were safe. Being part of the Hawkins Police seemed like a no-brainer; it was a way to ensure everyone was safe and be on the frontlines to protect them.

Not that he ever let this on; usually he would just say that he’s always wanted to be a cop, and he kept it at that.

You’d decided to do the apprenticeship after college didn’t work out. You went to one in Indianapolis after high school, but you weren’t really into it. Your parents decided to retire and travel for a few years, offering to let you have the house while they’re gone. You gratefully took them up on it, and you’d been living there since the spring. You’d enjoyed a few months off, but decided it was time to find something new to do. You’d always had a fantasy of being a hero. Maybe not a hero cop, but a hero. You wanted to save lives, make an impact. Being a police officer seemed like a good start. You knew it wouldn’t be like the movies, but the strange events that happened the last few years excited you. Maybe you’d get the chance to be someone you’ve always wanted to be.

“Why don’t you just give Veronica a chance?” you ask. “She’s pretty and she’s nice and she’s smart.”

“She literally told me she wanted a lock of my hair,” he says.

You choke on your coffee. “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah? I didn’t.”

Steve’s watch beeps, signaling that it’s 5 minutes until 8.

“Please keep talking to me when we go in,” he begs as you both climb out of the car.

“What’s in it for me?” you inquire.

“I will give you all of the lunches my mom brings me for two weeks.”

You pause. “Even the Fruit Roll-Ups?”

He sighs. “I’ll throw them in if you do a good job.”

You successfully make it past the reception desk without incident, waving hi to Callahan and Powell. You knock on the Chief’s door to signify your arrival, and you and Steve make your way back to the annex you worked in. Your desks faced each other, making it easier to talk through your 8-hour shifts. They were usually pretty boring. You and Steve were only cleared to respond to calls about petty things, like noise disturbances. But it’s not like much ever happened anymore in Hawkins, and the town had almost made it a full year without any weird occurrences.

A few hours go by, and boredom runs rampant. You hated Mondays: things hardly ever happened. Steve gets up around 10:30 and puts a mixtape into the boombox in the annex. Don’t You (Forget About Me) comes on, and Steve mutters, “aw, hell yeah,” under his breath. You know he’s going to start dancing, but it doesn’t stop the surprised smile on your face as he starts to swing and spin and sing. It’s magic, watching Steve dance. It makes no sense, it’s clumsy, it’s so white that it hurts; but it’s also hilarious and never fails to pick you up. Sometimes you’d join him. Other times, you’d call him an idiot. And sometimes you’d just watch as the magic unfolds.

This was one of those times.

--

The door to the annex opens around 1, approximately 5 hours into your shift. You and Steve are begging for something to do, because throwing M&Ms at each other isn’t fun by the second hour. You’d just thrown one at Steve when the door swings open, and you and Steve look at the intruder with wide eyes. It’s the Chief.

The new Chief was okay, you guessed. He was also brought in by the feds. He was a kind older man, with deep set blue eyes and wispy white hair. He could have come straight out of a storybook. You thought the Chief delegated nicely, and you’d shared a few good laughs. Something always felt off, though – but you and Steve chalked that up to the fact that you both were extremely biased against anyone who wasn’t Hop.

“Noise disturbance call,” Chief Edwards says. “Some kids out on Maple Street are causing mayhem.”

Steve groans and throws his head back. “Please tell me it’s not 30 Maple Street.”

The Chief blinks. “It is.”

“God dammit,” Steve says under his breath. It’s Mike’s house.

You and Steve get into a patrol car and set off.

“Do you know these kids?” you ask.

“Yeah, they’re kind of… my kids?”  He scrunches his nose. “I keep them out of trouble.”

You pause, confused. “So, you babysit them?”

“No, no,” Steve says. His face grows slightly red. “They’re my friends.”

Steve pulls into the driveway of the house, blaring the siren once to scare the kids that were on the lawn. Their faces quickly went from scared to excited as they saw it was Steve in the car.

You both get out of the car, and Steve takes the lead. He puts his hands on his hips and faces the kids. There were 4 boys and 2 girls, no older than 16, if you could guess. One of them with dark hair is holding a hose, and the others are wet.

“What are you shitheads doing?” Steve asks sternly. A couple of the kids giggle.

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” the red headed girl asks.

“I told you we were being too loud,” a kid you recognize as Will Byers says. He is smart, sitting on the porch and just watching, amused.

“Right,” says Steve, pointing at Will in recognition. “Way too loud. Mike, where’s your parents?”

There’s a beat, and then the girl standing next to the red head quietly says, “Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler aren’t home.”

Steve sighs. “Alright, well, you could always act like idiots inside the house, you know.” He looks at the dark-haired boy holding the hose. “Mike, what are you doing with that?”

The boy’s face breaks out into a devilish grin, and you can predict what’s about to happen. He points the hose at Steve and a curly haired boy turns the handle to let the water spray out, missing Steve by a hair. He jumps back.

“HEY!” he shouts. “Not cool dude, not in my uniform!”

“Wimp,” you laugh, and push him forward, allowing him to get splashed. The kids cheer, and then Steve’s hands are on your arms, and he swings you around to get hit, too. You gasp at the freezing feeling on the back of your legs, but burst into laughter, trying to wrestle Steve back into the flow. This goes on for entirely too long before you suddenly realize that it probably isn’t a good look to be out here responding to a call and then partaking in the offense.

“Steve,” you say, and that’s all it takes for him to snap back into reality.

“This is fun and all,” he says, letting you go. “But we came to bust you, not join in.”

The curly haired boy turns the water off and Mike sets the hose down. Steve has a way with kids. He’s able to level with them and call them out at the same time. It’s pretty great to watch and it’s certainly something you admired him for.

“Who’s this?” the curly haired kid asks, grinning widely.

“Oh,” Steve says. “This is my partner, Y/N.”

“Do you get to carry a gun?”

“Lucas!”

“Sorry!”

“You hang out with Steve? That must suck,” the dark-haired boy, Mike, says.

“Every single day,” you say solemnly. “It’s the worst.”

“Hey,” Steve says quietly.

“I’m kidding, bud.” You punch his arm lightly. “You’re the best.”

You look back at the kids and they’re all staring at you with wide eyes. It makes you uncomfortable, so you clear your throat and say, “Well, uh – shift is almost over. We should be going.”

After an awkward farewell and another “please be quiet or I’ll kick your ass” from Steve, you both get in the patrol car. Steve sees Dustin gesture to call him, and he rolls his eyes, pulling out of the driveway.

“Why did they look at me like that?” you ask. “Because I said you’re the best?” You pause. “Do they hate you?”

He’s quiet for a while. Finally, he says, “I think it’s because we are really buddy-buddy but… I don’t really… I haven’t ever really… talked about you.”

You turn in your seat to face him. “Do you hate me?”

“Of course I don’t hate you.” His cheeks are red – he’s flustered. “You’re one of my best friends –“

“Then why don’t you ever talk about me? Or hang out with me?”

“It’s complicated,” he sighs. “It’s really complicated. I just – I don’t like … I get nervous about having new friends.”

You nod slowly. “Tommy H. and Carol.”

“Yeah.” It’s not really why he’s nervous, but it’s a good excuse. “I don’t want to get dicked over again.”

“Man,” you say, turning back to face the road. “I buy you a blueberry danish every single Monday. And a coffee. And I let you sing Queen at the top of your lungs, and I let you dance, and sometimes I even let you do it at 5 in the morning. I think if I didn’t want to be your friend, you would know by now.”

He’s quiet, thinking. You look at him, trying to read him.

“I guess I owe you the pleasure of hanging out with me,” he says after a while, a smile forming. “So maybe we can hang out Friday night.”

You gasp and throw your arm out, hitting him on the shoulder, making the car swerve slightly.

“Jesus –”

“Do you mean it?” you shout, smiling widely. “We can hang out?”

“I said maybe,” he teases. “It’s board game night with the kids – maybe you can come?”

You start chanting his name – “Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve! Really? Are you for real?”

“Yes!” He laughs and rolls his eyes again. “I’ll pick you up. It starts at 7.”

You smile so hard that your cheeks hurt.

Steve silently hopes he doesn’t regret this.

----

taglist (message if you want to join!): @harrington-ofhawkins​ @wolfish-willow​ @gothackedalready​

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi! I know I have other unfinished fic, but I’ve actually been writing a bit, and you can blame @the-well-rested-one! I have five chapters queued up and outline for several more, that’s a good sign! Please comment if you read, or reblog! Thank you to @nikibi6 and @emulateharry for the looksie!

The One Where Harry Styles Sneezed On Me

Day One

There's only three people out on the pavement ahead of her, and a part of Elise is tempted to tip toe because she watches too many movies.

The streets of London are quieter than Elise has seen them since she moved here. She'd basically never left her university classes and not been shoulder to shoulder with wall to wall people. Her classes were over at rush hour and there were a lot of people in London at any time of day. Had you asked her before the move, she would have said she liked big crowds. But now, the tube sometimes gave her anxiety, a brand new thing, because it was so packed.

Today, well London was like a ghost town, like the film where she'd fallen in love with the city and decided she would study abroad there. It was an odd one, but that sounded like her.

28 Days Later was a weird inspiration, but maybe because London was empty in the movie, she was able to see things about it better. It was also why she felt like she should be extra quiet on the nearly deserted streets, this was the closest approximation to her favorite movie scenes she'd probably ever see in one of the biggest cities in the world. Elise had never been to a big city, not really, the largest was maybe Phoenix. But it didn't really feel that much bigger than Tucson, where she grew up, or maybe it had just grown before her eyes so she hadn't noticed.

London was a proper big city as her roommate told her, and Elise hadn't made it for a semester abroad. She'd wound up here for her post graduate work, she couldn't afford it during undergrad. The living expenses, turns out, were too expensive, but she'd found a way later, because there was a will, a dream.

Her will for today had been to find her way after class to the next public green space on her list. She'd done Kensington Gardens, Hyde Park, and Regent's Park. She went after class when she could, if there was sunlight to catch. Today was so pretty, she had decided to go even if it meant catching the tube by herself at night. And then she had stepped out into a London eerily like the one from the movie that had first infatuated her. There were people on the street though, and they didn't look like the walking dead, just the walking afraid. Those who had braved the streets wore masks. One lady had gardening gloves on. Elise wasn't sure if she was underreacting or everybody else was over the top. She hadn't really thought about it, mostly because she was under 80, and well, honestly, maybe she did feel a little bit of the invincibility youth brings.

Apparently lots of Londoners didn't feel the same way. Including those who ran her Uni. She arrived with her notebooks and excited for her day plans, resolute, to find a sign on an easel in the entryway.

"Classes Cancelled today. Online classes will resume tomorrow. All formats will be conducted via Portal for three weeks, or until further notice."

Well, shit. Had they thought to send an email? It may have saved her the trip.

Elise looked at the 100,000 emails in her gmail and discovered they had indeed emailed her. This was why she avoided online courses, she was much better, learned better, in person. Also, she was abysmal at keeping up with things via email. The next few weeks would be a trial.

She'd have to figure it out, and she knew herself; A schedule was necessary, she'd write one down, on paper, to order her life while she had to finish these courses online. But that seemed to be her only coursework for this day.

That was a bright side. She took it as a silver lining, she could head to the old London Heath right away. She considered walking, plotted out her path and realized that it was a long, long way, so long it would steal all of her energy to explore.

The tube was really ghostly, like the ghost town they visited once, Calico or something?

Regardless, she was surprised she wasn't more excited. It was just like 28 Days Later. Well not really, no bloodthirsty, spattered lurchers, but it felt eerie. Like it had the first time she watched it, before she got totally immune to the plot and could only see the sights. She was thankful when a few people got on her carriage, though they sat as far from each other as the spacing allowed. She quickly looked up more information on her phone and estimated how far away the people should be, they were all separated by much more than that.

By the time she got to her destination, she'd normally be just getting out of her first class, and Elise's stomach reminded her that this was meal time. She really was married to a schedule, or at least her biology was. She thought a picnic would be lovely, so she looked up a market and found a Whole Foods nearby. She would splash out for her lunch it looked like, could be worse, could be Waitrose, and must be cheaper than a cafe, surely.

London was pricey. Which she'd known intellectually and was now experiencing literally everyday. As such, Elsie was kinda thinking she needed a job. Was she allowed to work? Maybe on campus. She'd have to ask the question to somebody who knew; she was running through her reserves.

Elise kinda sighed at herself as she walked into Whole Foods. Maybe this was not the best idea. But it was bright and cheery inside and smelled like green juice and roasted vegetables. Her stomach growled and she decided the worst that could happen was she would wind up eating cup o' noodles and have to pack a lunch a lot towards the end of semester before her next stipend.

Elsie shrugged and sang along a little to the song playing overhead. She felt like she rarely heard One Direction here, she heard it played out more in public in the US, and wondered if that was due to public exhaustion. She understood that it had been next level crazy here. Maybe it was just time? They'd been her favorite when she was in early high school. She had decided she was gonna marry Liam in eighth grade. That opinion changed as they all aged. She got too cool for them, and well, some of them grew up nicely. "Just how fast the night changes." She tried to harmonize along. The song also meant she wasn't hurrying she was, however, wandering.

Fruit, she should grab some fruits, that was always a good place to start.

How she wound up by the hot bar she didn't know, but she grabbed a bit of roast chicken and realized the layout was backwards to the one she was used to in Tucson. The metal spoon clanked as she got some potatoes that looked deliciously crunchy and had little burned ridges like she loved. She should have some vegetables. Carrots didn't count, real green things were needed. Asparagus counted. She was looking at the cut fruit, but then thought about her budget concerns and headed over to the produce section.

It was a little emptier than what she assumed was normal, a few ladies and a tall, lanky man in a hoodie and hat were the only people about. He was broad from the back, but had a furtive set to his shoulder that made him smaller. He was also standing exactly where she wanted to be. In front of the bananas, her favorite of the economical fruits. The best bunches clustered where he didn't seem to be doing anything but loitering.

Elise's belly growled, the aroma of her roasted chicken wafted up. She'd give it another minute and if he hadn't moved, she'd try to politely shoulder her way around him, 6 feet or not.

She gave it two minutes. By the end her converse was audible tapping. He still hadn't moved at all. So help her, if he was on his phone! It was time for action. She came up to about his shoulder, and he did not seem to notice there was 5 feet of impatience at his elbow, at least he certainly didn't move. When Elise realized he was on his phone, her patience snapped. That had to break some kind of grocery store etiquette. Was there grocery store etiquette? Certainly, it would extend to standing so people couldn't access foods when you were fucking around on your phone.

She reached past him, "sorry, excuse my reach." she hoped he could hear just how not sorry she was. Elise was good at passive-aggression.

She heard his breathing change and was ready to tell him he had just been blocking the bananas for three minutes, and she knew she wasnt being socially distant, but he was being rude, when he turned towards her. He was being rude, especially by English standards and she would tell him so, even if she wasn't sure if he was exactly impolite, accusing an Englishman of that was very effective.

She realized two things when he looked at her.

One- he was not some stranger- he was HARRY. FUCKING.STYLES!

And two- as his spit splattered all over her face, he wasn't about to call her rude, his gasp had been the beginning of a sneeze.

😷😷😷😷😷

The last hour had been an absolute blur. She had just sat down to eat. And though her 16 year old self would consider this an upgrade, her 23 year old self was really sad the heath was not the site of her lunch, even if it had been switched out for her teenage dream.

Because Harry Styles had started his litany of apologies with a "fuck!" Then a spilling ramble. "I'm so sorry, dammit, I knew I should have just sent somebody. Dammit, Jesus fuck, now you will have to be quarantined too." His hands were fumbling with the wet wipes and she could smell the disinfectant on them. She stopped him short before he was wiping that shit on her face and was redirecting his hand while he was still talking about how they could just both be holed up in his house. It distracted from the fact he was rubbing spittle off her shirt very close to her nipple.

"I mean, it's not huge. Damn, I kinda wish the new house was done. Then we wouldn't even have to see each other. Not that, I um, wouldn't want to see you, or like whatever, but um. We don't know each other and we'll be, like, living together for several weeks. I guess you could quarantine at your place. But I just feel better, cause it's my fault. Seems rude to possibly infect somebody due to negligence, and not like, help them through it. I just had to have my celery juice." That part was said under his breath, and he wasn't holding any juice.

She remembered the closed juice bar. The sign had read: Our fresh bars-juice, smoothie, and coffee are close due to Covid- 19 contagion worries. We apologize for any inconvenience.

Then it clicked, while she wiped his sputum from her face. That is what he was talking about. What the?

"Are you just wandering around whole foods infecting people? You have the virus?"

She realized she'd been talking really loud and attracting attention. Harry certainly realized.

He looked agitated and around to see if they had an audience, and she realized his face was a bit of a liability. That would be some headline for sure. "Harry Styles spreading coronavirus!" or some shit like that. He used to get press for existing, the memory made her soft for him.

"Let's get you checked out. And we can go back to my place and talk?" He made eye contact and she got confused for a second longer.

"What?" Elise found herself saying. She would normally never ever go home with some dude in a store. But, this dude was Harry Styles, and that made her feel simultaneously safer and also like this was a chance she had to take. She also wanted to yell at him a little.

He sighed, like she was a hard to open packet of chips. "Can you check out and meet me outside?" He looked around again and bit his lip because the women nearby were watching them. He handed her his basket and helped her transfer her things to it, "Can you grab my things too?" He didn't sound like she remembered him. But she supposed she'd not done more than listen to his albums once through after she'd grown out of her One Direction phase.

He sounded better. He was still growing up well.

"Huh?" She was not following him. He gave her that exasperated face and thinned his lips before he quickly got a hundred pound note out. "Check out and I'll meet you in my car. I'm near the front, all right?"

She barely remembered checking out. The girl had to prompt her twice, and she'd shoved the sanitizer at her when they'd both had to touch the change. She even considered keeping. Can you grab my things too, the audacity! But she handed it to him promptly and he put it away and sanitized his hands and gave her a squirt too. Chivalry in the time of Corona.

The drive had been quiet. Though she was sure there were things to do, to say, certainly. So the radio played and Harry sang along. It was a surreal moment, right out of her teenage dreams. Listening to Harry Styles sing in his expensive car. The missing piece that made it reality instead of fantasy was that she was not singing along, instead she was confused and hungry.

"Here, I'll warm up your lunch." Was the first thing he said to her as he ushered her into the square house she recognized from something on the internet years ago. It was a little cold inside and Elise fitted her sweater around her shoulders and sat at the wood grain kitchen table. Her food came to her steaming. Then a warm mug she immediately wrapped her hands around.

"You cold?" He asked while moving to a fancy looking blue screened rectangle on the wall. "I'm always cold, so I just wait until someone seems too cold to change anything."

She nodded.

"Right, so you know me?" He asked like it was taking out the garbage.

"Um," Elise took a drink. "Yeah, I was a huge One Direction fan in high school."

He smiled at that. "Ok, is that why you've gone silent? Freaking out?"

"Yeah, and also, I'm not really following. Honestly."

"Why don't you tell me a little about about what you think is going on. Then I'll fill in my side."

She took a breath. "Can I eat my lunch first?" She needed a minute, and she was beyond hungry, and annoyed. Definitely annoyed. And maybe just a touch of freaking out. Harry was her favorite for a lot longer than Liam, if she was honest.

"Oh! Yes, of course." He shook his head, "how rude of me."

That was why he felt rude? Not the bananas or irresponsible shopping trip. Elise widened her eyes at her carton before she dug in and didn't look up until the blender went.

A green smoothie, vibrant and lush, was placed at her elbow. It matched his eyes. "Here, to your health."

"Thank you." She took a sip and smiled. Her blood sugar was rising and she was already feeling considerably better, though her odd situation and figuring it out came to the forefront. "So, um, to my health hmmm?" She cheered the air.

Harry exhaled and nodded.

"To yours as well?"

"I suppose you could say that." He pulled his lip between his forefingers and she remembered that from interviews.

"You're not supposed to touch your face." She ah, ah, ahhed with a grin.

He laughed and it broke some of their tension. "I'm not. Neither are you."

Elise realized she had her chin in her hand. She slapped it lightly on the table and sat up. "Fair enough, so what am I doing here, Mr. Styles?"

He groaned lowly and she wondered what that was about. She didn't let it sidetrack her though, she'd wait out his response.

He took a big gulp of health and Elise watched the chunky residue slide down the glass.

"You've heard of Coronavirus, yes?"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

He chuckled, she hoped at himself, what the fuck kind of question was that?

"Right, pretty unavoidable, yeah?" He didn't need her to agree, he kept talking. "I travel a lot."

"Duh!" she interrupted.

At that he really did laugh. "So, I travel a lot, duh, and I flew on a flight where somebody tested positive. There aren't many tests yet, they're rationing them."

"Even for you?" She was surprised.

"Even for me," he sighed. "I'm just a person. Anyway, the person in question asked for a pic for his daughter—."

"Likely story."

"Perhaps, and so, we were in close proximity and we shook hands," she nodded along with the line of his narrative. "They won't test me unless I show symptoms. But quarantine was recommended."

He finished, he'd left out a part though.

"Is Whole Foods part of the quarantine radius?"

He blushed a little, and all of the reasons she'd had some of her earliest fantasies about him surfaced. "No, not as such. But I was low on bananas."

"Nobody you could pay a euro for your bunch of bananas?" She hoped for a laugh.

He squinted. "Course, but I don't like to be a bother."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "So, in your effort to not inconvenience anyone for a couple hours, you've exposed me by sneezing in my face, rude, and kidnapping me to your house? So, now I have to quarantine too?"

"You aren't a kid. How could I nap you?" This was not a joke, but the humor of it was not escaping either of them.

"Not what that means, though I've no idea why." She shrugged.

"Young lady napped?" He tried.

"Oh god, you are sooo English. Young lady napped." She tried on his drawl.

"That was terrible!" He shook his head like he was offended.

"I thought it was pretty good?" She popped her shoulder and her own little dimple in her left cheek appeared, though it didn't pull the weight his did. He narrowed his eyes before raising up his eyebrows.

"It was alright, I suppose. We have time to perfect it."

"Why's that?" She found herself asking.

"Well, we're pretty much stuck together. How d'ya feel about two weeks at Le Hotel Styles?"

He couldn't be serious, could he?

[notyetneedcoffee]

Moving Parts, 5

Part Five

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Soft lovey smut!

You shifted slowly on the sofa, aches still locking up your back. The loose sweats you wore and the messy bun atop your head made you look like a slob, but you were still too sore to care. Binge watching Supernatural ate up the day, but the cabin fever got worse.  

Since coming home from the med wing, the boys kept their word by being there every night as you slept. They chased your nightmares away and soothed you back to sleep. Usually one or the other stayed with you for most of the day. 

The doctor clearer you for light physical activity. You’d been working with the physical therapist to loosen up and regain some of your strength. But like all physical therapy, it hurt before it got any better. You were breathing better. That was a plus.  

Today Steve had some work to do and about an hour ago Bucky went into town to bring back your favorite Thai food for dinner. What you really wanted was to go out yourself, but you hated to admit the bruises on your face kept you home.  

“Miss Y/L/N,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke over the speakers. “I regret to inform you that Captain Rogers will be approximately twenty minutes late for your meeting.”

“What meeting?” You asked.

“Captain Rogers has a standing priority appointment with you from six to ten set each evening for the next month.” The AI replied.

“He does?” You smiled to yourself. Steve was awful about using his calendar. Maria was constantly on his case about it. “Thank you. I’ll just see him when he gets here.”

The door opened a while later. Bucky came in with a big bag of take out and a dazzling smile. “Hey Beautiful, I’m back.”

“Hey.” You stood slowly and shuffled into the kitchenette. Bucky wrapped his arms around your cuddling you close, but not squeezing enough to hurt. You buried your face into his chest. “Thank you for getting dinner.”

“Not a problem.” He pressed his lips into your hair.  

“Did you know Steve put me on his calendar every night as a priority appointment?”

Bucky chuckled. “I didn’t know he used a calendar.” He traced his fingers over your back. “Good. That’s really good of him to do.”

“I think so.” You pressed your face against his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt at the small of his back. “Bucky,” you all but whispered. “Is it just because I’m hurt?”

“Doll.” His fingered combed through your hair.

“I don’t want to get...”

“Listen to me,” Bucky cupped your face. “Yes. Steve was shocked, terrified, when you were taken. We both were. But I think it also made him take a hard look at his priorities. That’s what we wanted, right? It may not be how we wanted it to happen, heaven knows I never want to see you hurt, but I think we’re going to be okay.”

“Really?” The constant dull aches and inactivity wore your nerves down, leaving you emotional and raw.  

His thumb traced over the near healed wound on your lip. His blue eyes bore into yours, filled with nothing but love and patience. The corner of Bucky’s mouth tipped up with a sweet smile. “I would not say so if I didn’t believe it.”

Tears filled your eyes and slipped down your cheeks, though they were not sad tears.

The door opened and Steve came in. He saw the tears in your eyes, face falling from a smile to one of worry. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sniffed, pulling away from Bucky and stepped toward Steve. “I’m just a little emotional.”

“Have you taken anything for the pain?” Steve ghosted the backs of his fingers over the bruised flesh below your eye. When you mumbled a negative. He just sighed. “I know you don’t like that stuff. Neither do I.”

Bucky began unpacking the food. “Let’s get some food in you, and then maybe a hot shower.”

“That sounds nice.”  

Steve wrapped his strong arms around you, his lips pressed against your ear. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll get out of here and take in some new scenery.”

The next morning Bucky woke you as he crawled out of bed. You caught his wrist before he stood. “Where you going?”

Steve curled tighter around your back, squeezing you spooned against him. He muttered unintelligible words sleepily into your hair.  

Bucky grinned down at the two of you. “Got work to do today, Doll. Stevie’s going to keep you company.” He pressed his lips to yours. His tongue slipped gently over yours, drawing a small moan from you. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you tonight.”

Soon after he left your room, you felt Steve’s nose rub in your hair. His large hand spread over your abdomen, pulling you tight against his growing arousal. Your hand reached back to slide along his bare hip. His wet kisses upon your neck sent heat rushing to your core.  

It’d been so long. You sighed. “Steve.”  

His hand drifted lower, dipping between your folds and gathering the slick wet on his fingers. Rubbing the sensitive nerves of your clit, he hummed his delight at your response. “So wet, Sweetheart. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m okay.” You breathed. “Please, Steve.”

Steve rolled you over, so his mouth could cover yours. He kissed you slow, deep. Tongues dancing around each other with emotion, you melted against him. Careful not to put too much weight on you, Steve slid down your body, covering your skin with open mouthed kisses.  

“Oh god, yes.” Your fingers gripped his hair as Steve’s tongue trailed over the junction of your hip. Your legs spread as his mouth licked and nipped your inner thigh. The heat of his tongue made your body burn. Steve brought you higher, his touch sure but gentle.

His fingers slipped inside you, rubbing against the perfect spot to curl your toes and cause the tension to coil tighter. Steve’s lips suckled on your clit harder. You shook. His palm pressed down on your abdomen, holding you in place.  

Your orgasm washed over you.  Heat flushed through your body, every nerve lit up. Your muscles quivered. You moaned out a shaky, “Steve.”

He drank down your release with satisfied moans before crawling up your body, hovering over you. Even though his arms held his upper body above you, his hips pressed into you. The tip of his cock slipped against the entrance of your wet cunt. Steve hesitated, kissing you deep. “You okay?”

“Fuck me, Steve. Please.” You breathed into his mouth, moaning as he sunk himself home. It felt like it’d been forever, felt like you’d been missing part of yourself. He moved slow. Your body wrapped around his, as much skin touching as possible.

“Love you so much, sweetheart.” Steve breathed into your hair, his hand nestling your head. His body moved steadily, reacting to yours perfectly.  

You clung to him, fingers digging in to his muscles. His scent filled your head, his taste on your tongue. The tension built again. You panted, “Love you. Steve. Oh god. Yes.”

When your cunt clenched, your body shook, Steve’s hips began to lose their rhythm. You clung to him. A breathless moan escaped your chest as Steve growled into your neck. He held you tight as he emptied himself into you.  

Steve rolled over, pulling you with him. His touch gentle and loving. “You okay?”

“Better than okay.” You kissed his chest, a lazy smile on your face. “So, so much better than okay.”

“Good.” He chuckled. “What do you say to cleaning up and going out for breakfast?”

“You really want to be seen with me still looking all beat to hell?” You tried to make light of it, but the black eyes were taking longer to fade than you’d like.

“You’re beautiful and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.” Steve kissed your forehead. “Come on. I’ll buy you waffles.”

He kept you out all day. After breakfast, Steve asked if you wanted to go into the city or upstate somewhere. You decided on a day museum hopping. By midday, though, you were exhausted. It’s been a while since you’d been on your feet all day.  

Steve got you settled into a comfortable booth, before fetching sodas and snacks. “We can head back, Steve. We don���t need to see everything.”

He sipped on the straw, smiling at you. “Let’s just rest for a while. We’ll see the rest then head back before dinner.”  

You figured Steve just wanted you to himself for a while, so you rested for a while and chatted about the exhibits you’d seen. Steve told you about what used to be in the museums before the war, and how amaze he was by the restoration. 

When you finally drove back to the compound, you knew something was amiss. He practically bounced with excitement. “Steve, what has you all giddy?”

“I am not.” He pulled the car into the garage. He attempted to keep the grin off his face, but couldn’t.  

“You are.”

“Not.”

“Are.”

He laughed. “I had a great day. Isn’t that enough?”

“No.” You giggled. “What is going on?”

He parked and shut off the engine, shifting toward you in the seat. His gorgeous eyes gleamed with mischief. “Just come with me.” He rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“Okay.” You cupped his strong jaw with your hand and kissed him, pulling his lower lip between your teeth.  

A low rumble escaped his chest before he jumped out of the car and ran around to open your door. Holding your hand, he led you through the compound. You gave a wave to Wanda and Vis, who sat on the sofa in the common room watching a movie. Wanda smiled and waved, but didn’t say anything.  

Steve led you towards his suite, not yours. Bucky stepped out of Steve’s door as you approached. They shared a look, one you’d seen before but usually only before they did something very naughty to you. It made you giggle. “What is going on?”

“Hey, Doll. Did you have a good day?” Bucky leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly over yours.  

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Yes. What have you been up to?”

“What make you think I’ve been up to something?” Bucky grabbed you by the hips, pulling you close and grinning down.  

“Really?” Your eyebrow quirked.

Steve’s pined you between them, his hands sliding around your ribs and pushing his chest against your back. “We have a surprise for you.”

Bucky kissed your lips with a grin. “Wanna see?”

“Yes.”

With one hand he turned the nob and let the door swing open. You’re mouth dropped open.

The living room was bigger than it had been. Steve’s favorite chair still sat to the right of the television along a wall of bookshelves, but the sofa was huge and deep. A full kitchen was open to the living space, not just the normal kitchenettes in the other suites. An outdoor patio was beyond the glass doors.  

You wondered further in, noticing the details. Steve’s mementos were mingled both yours and Bucky’s. Your books were mixed with theirs. Your favorite throw blanket lay draped over the sofa. Open mouthed you turned towards the boys.

They both wore giant smiles.  

“You...you really?”

Steve rushed forward taking your hand. “I...we...really want this. I talked to Tony and we came up with a plan. We’ve taken over the space of both my suite and Bucky’s. Totally remodeled. Big bedroom, en suite bathroom, extra closets, office space, all of it.”

“If you want to move stuff around or change colors, anything, just say the word.” Bucky added. “We just wanted to welcome you home with everything done.”

“Home.” You repeated, tears filling your eyes. “Our home.”

“Yeah, Doll.” Bucky’s fingers brushed a lock of hair away from your face.  

Steve brought your fingers to his lips. “Is this okay? Please, Sweetheart, say this is okay?”  

“Yes.” The tears fell down your cheeks. You threw your arms around Steve’s shoulders. “This is amazing.”

You felt Steve exhale a shaky breath. 

Bucky’s hand slid up behind your neck, his other on Steve’s back. “Welcome home.” He laughed, kissing you on the shoulder. “Now who wants to try out that massage shower?”  

“Me!” Steve laughed.  

“Me too!” You’d never been happier.  

TAGS

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[foreverfangirlalways]

The Astronomer and The Florist (Chapter 11)

Summery: Logan and Virgil go have dinner at Mr. Sanders place, and then they have a sleepover date.

Ships: Analogical & Royality

Warning: fear, sad Logan moment

-let me know if I need to add more warnings-

(I am soft for flirty, blushing boyfriends; and time is just a construct 😂 If you don’t like kissing, flirting, and cuddling, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER! Ok, thank you 💜)

—-

As soon as Logan finished his last lesson and organized his classroom, he headed home and jumped into the shower.

He had texted Virgil Mr. Sanders address, and they had decided that to would be best if Virgil was the one to drive them to the dinner, especially since they will be having their sleepover date right afterwards!

They had decided that the sooner the better, and they both have off tomorrow. Also, Virgil offered up his house for the date.

That meant that Logan has approximately 47 minutes to shower, get dressed, and pack a bag. Once he tied his tie, he started packing. Everything was going so well, that naturally he had no idea what pajamas to pack.

Shorts? No.

Flannel? Too plain.

Unicorn Onesie? Too soon in the relationship for that.

He was stressing, and shoved through his drawer. No, no, no, n-... wait.

He held up the pajamas and grinned. These are perfect! He refolded them and placed them in his duffel bag.

“There. That is my charger, toothbrush, toothpaste, pajamas, change of close for tomorrow... yep! That’s everything. And in perfect timing because Virgil just texted that he is 5 minutes away.

Logan pocketed his phone, grabbed the duffle bag, and then did one last check in the mirror. He straightened his tie, and then walked out.

Virgil drove up, and Logan tossed his bag in the backseat, hopped into the passenger side, and kissed Virgil on the cheek. Virgil hid a smile and told his ‘stupid flirty boyfriend’ to buckle up.

-_-_-_-

Mr. Sanders is a very gracious host. He made some awesome quesadillas, and asked to be called Thomas. He busted out laughing when Virgil said, “Of course Mr. Thomas.”

“Virgil, buddy, while I love how polite you are, there is no need.” Virgil just kinda nervously laughed to himself. “Sorry, I just feel like I am meeting a parent, and I want to impress you.”

“That’s very sweet,” Thomas chuckled. “I’m glad you think that I hold so much sway over Logan, but you have nothing to prove to me. I have approved of you since Logan first called me out of the blue and started spiraling about this guy that, quote unquote, ‘is so good looking that he suddenly made me remember how gay I am.”

Logan looked away blushing while Virgil smirked at him. “Oh really? You thought that?” Logan rolled his eyes, trying to gain control of the situation.

“Virgil, I still think that. There is a reason that I asked you to be my boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” Virgil smirked, parroting his last statement. “And here I thought it was just because I can make a bomb bouquet.”

“That was a small part too.” Logan said, smiling and holding his fingers to show how small.

“Speaking of that, I never got to see the bouquet, may I see a picture?” Virgil lit up at Thomas’s question. “You can! And if you are interested, I can even show you a video of Logan punching Michael!”

Both just stared at Virgil. Thomas looked at Logan. “You punched someone?” Logan nodded, still looking at Virgil.

“Yeah, he tried hurting Virgil. How did you get a video?” Virgil took out his phone. “I was texting Elliot yesterday and apologized for not getting a video or picture of Michael getting punched. He laughed and then goes, ‘oh? Haven’t you heard?’

It turns out that Zoe, one of your old coworkers and a fellow member of the ‘I hate Michael club’ was at the Party. She saw that he was harassing me, and apparently decided to record the situation incase Michael tried blaming me. Also, apparently #pushMichealoutawindow is trending on tumblr.”

Logan was dumbfounded and Thomas busted out laughing. “Well I have to see it now!”

Virgil first showed him the bouquet, and gave the definition. After Thomas finished laughing and telling Virgil how good a job he did, everybody watched Logan punch Michael and protect Virgil’s honor. After the video was over, everyone sat back down. There was silence for a bit before Thomas spoke.

“Wow, Logan.” Logan looked at Thomas, terrified of what he thought.

“I can explain, see-“ Thomas held up his hand, interrupting Logan. “Logan, I have never been more proud! I have to say, that is a great left hook.”

Virgil and Thomas laughed at the shocked look on Logan’s face. “You’re... you’re proud?” Logan asked in a shaky voice. Virgil immediately grasped Logan hand. “Of course I’m proud of you Logan. You protected your boyfriend and stood up for yourself. I think you are doing amazing things with your life.”

Logan hide his face, trying to not let it show how much Thomas’s words affected him. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him, and he turned into his boyfriends embrace.

“Thank you Thomas. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Thomas smiles and ruffles Logan’s hair.

“It’s no problem buddy. Now, how about some ice cream?” Logan nodded and Thomas went to go get the treat. Virgil fixed Logan’s hair, and Logan just blushed and leaned his face into Virgil’s hands. They smiled at eachother and Virgil kissed Logan on the top of his nose.

They heard a click, and turned around to see Thomas standing in the door way, holding 3 pints of ice cream stacked on top of eachother in one hand and his phone in the other.

Logan buried his head in Virgil’s chest. “Why does everyone take pictures of us kissing?” Thomas looked intrigued.

“Everyone? I think I need to hear this story too.” Logan simply squeezed Virgil tighter and Virgil laughed. “How about that ice cream, huh?”

-_-_-_-

After talking about stalkerish friends, showing more pictures, and telling a few more stories, Logan and Virgil bid Thomas a good night.

“Y’all have a good night too, and don’t be afraid to come back! I love theses chats, and Virgil, I took the liberty of putting my number in your phone, so don’t be a stranger! Also, I changed your lock screen.” Thomas winked the shut his door. Virgil took out his phone and laughed at the picture on his screen. Logan looked at the picture and started chuckling.

The picture was of Logan and Virgil, embracing, with Logan looking at Virgil in adoration as Virgil kissed the tip of his nose.

“I have to say,” Virgil said, putting his car in reverse. “Thomas is very sneaky, and I had a lot of fun. Besides, that is my new favorite picture.”

Logan laughed and got out his phone. “I have to say, while your screensaver is undeniably adorable, I think I still like mine the best.” Logan said, and smiled down at the picture Roman took while spying on them, of Virgil, arms wrapped around Logan and standing on the balls of his feat, kissing him.

Virgil glanced at the picture on Logan’s lock screen, and smiled. “I like that one too. I have to say, I love how both of the pictures are of me kissing you.”

Logan laughed, and gladly accepted the opening. “Well, I’ll just have to fix that, huh?” Virgil blushed at Logan’s implication.

“No distracting the driver.” Logan laughed, but kept quiet until Virgil pulled into his driveway.

Virgil unlocked the door while Logan got his duffle bag. Virgil was toeing off his shoes, and Logan shut the door, wrapped his arms around Virgil, whispered ‘honey I’m home’, then kissed him on the cheek.

Virgil giggled and playfully shoved Logan. “The reason all those pictures are of me kissing you is because you keep missing.”

Logan smiled mischievously, and Virgil just shook his head. “Go get your pajamas on Mr.” Logan raised his hands in surrender and asked where the bathroom is. After being told, Logan nodded, quickly kissed Virgil, then ran to the bathroom to change.

Virgil just shook his head at his boyfriend antics and went to put on his pajamas. One he was done he walked into the living room and laughed. Logan looked up and started laughing as well.

“Well, this has got to be a sign.” Logan said, gesturing to his NASA themed pjs and Virgil’s galaxy themed ones.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, still giggling. “It looks like great minds really do think alike.”

Logan plugged up his phone, set his duffle bag on the floor, and looked at Virgil. “So, what do you want to do first?”

“Well, I found some documentaries on the history behind the constellations, so we could watch that.”

Logan agreed and they both sat on the couch while Virgil pulled up the movie. Virgil turned off the light, and handed Logan a blanket.

Logan accepted the blanket, and pulled Virgil next to him. Virgil looked at him with a raised eyebrow but was smiling.

“What?” Logan asked. “Did you think I was going to watch a constellation documentary without cuddling my constellation clad boyfriend?”

Virgil blushed and cuddled up next to Logan. They stayed like that, cuddled and giving commentary, for two documentaries.

After the second documentary ended, Logan looked down at Virgil. “I vote target practice next.”

Virgil sputtered and hid his face in his hands. Logan chuckled. “If you don’t want to-“

Virgil peaked out from behind his hands. “I never said I didn’t want to, you are just... incredibly flirty.”

Logan busted out laughing. “Oh starlight, I am only flirty with you. And I like to keep away from PDA, so I mainly rely on words in public. Which work wonders on you and I get to see your adorable blush.”

Virgil blushed, proving Logan’s point. “Stupid flirty boyfriend” Virgil mumbled while smiling.

“Correction,” Logan said, leaning closer to Virgil. “YOUR stupid flirty boyfriend.” Logan muttered against Virgil’s lips, and then kissed him.

“Yay!” Virgil said afterwards. “You didn’t miss!” They both laugh. “I think you need some more practice though...”

They kissed for a while, and then they got back to cuddling and watched The Black Caldron.

Around midnight they both fell asleep, wrapped in eachother arms, and completely content.

-----

( I hope you liked it! I’m having so much fun writing this! And #pushMichaeloutawindow is an actual thing 😂)

Taglist-

@dragonwithproblems

@five-falseh00ds-ph0nated

@kawaiikat54

@thefingergunsgirl

@sanders-sides-with-quinn

@aleiimm

@007ardra

@yikesdodson

@nerdycupcake559

@softestvirgil

@teacupfulofstarshine

@impatentpending

@star-crossed-shipper

@rainbowemonightmare

@ravenivy2079

@ladyartemisia28

@moose-boi

@resident-trash-goblin

[iverlove]

MATTHEW 22:37

Beautiful Souls Today on IverLove's Transforming Hearts in the Souls Gym, I bring you this regression as an exercise to cleanse your body, soul, and heart. Matthew 22:37 tells us: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” I invite you to live this moment, feel it, and enjoy the power of this regression that I am going to give you to enter a deep reflection with your Inner Self and thus experience the awakening of your consciousness. Feel and live my frequency. Now! Today you can look at yourself in the mirror and analyze yourself very well; do it for approximately 5 minutes without interruption in a place where you are comfortable without interruptions and if you can make a journal of the daily notes that you are living during our meetings and our exercises. Write everything that comes to your mind in that journal during those 5 minutes of daily reflection; that encounter with yourself will be the source to start our cleansing of body, soul, and heart. Write what comes from your heart, how you see yourself, your dreams, your joys, your sadness, and everything beautiful and positive about you. Although you can also make special notes writing your weaknesses, difficulties, and disappointments; remember that we are going to make a Regression and Review of your Life. This moment is yours, only for you, and only from you. Now let’s begin. Our Heavenly Father in his Divine kingdom; an Invisible kingdom where all that is impossible for us! For him Everything is Possible; from there Our Architect the Creator of the Universe created Our Souls with a Mission and Purpose. The union of the most Divine in the creation of the Universe; Love, With its power between Souls that were Manifested in our third Dimension, and through that powerful union of love you were engendered and selected among approximately 15 million spermatozoon; You were the strongest among them all and for being the chosen one you were assigned a soul from the Celestial realm with purposes and missions to fulfill in the opportunity that the Universe gave you so that you can experience the Journey as a Human Being. You are a Unique creation, with unique characteristics and gifts; and you were assigned to biological parents who, from your mother's womb cared for you, protected you, loved you, and desired you with all their might, thus making you reach the Light. Your parents and the rest of humanity were already expecting that someone new and divinely created would bring much good news, not only to your family but to Humanity! What an incredible journey indeed! So, you were growing up, but it wasn't just on your own, was it! But by the care of your parents, and relatives who through the grace of God gave them what was necessary for your growth. You are something like an Onion; which has many layers, right? And all thanks to the Divine plan created by Our God. As you go through your formation and growth you continue to depend not only on your parents but on an entire community that saw you grow and enriched you in many aspects, preparing you for the day. But what day? The day when you have to take the baton and be the person you are destined to be during your journey. Now you come to this moment today! Look at yourself, and see the long road you have traveled, you are here Alive, Full of dreams. The truth of all that you don't know is that: You are still here in this instant, Reading and enjoying this instant, do you know why? Because that's the way God wants it, Because Our Heavenly Father Loves you! So how can we not love our God with all our Hearts, with all our Souls, and with all our minds? Breathe dear Soul; you have lived a fascinating Regression; a unique journey of your life now exhale and thank the Almighty God for loving us so much. The key and key for Our God to give you Blessings and make your dreams come true is in Reading, Hearing, and Speaking the Word of God and making His commandments the habit that will lead us to the promised life in Abundance, if you comply with what I just mentioned above you will see your Dreams come true regardless of your age, race, religion, language or sexual orientation. Very well dear Souls, I am glad you are well; open your eyes, we have arrived again to the Third Dimension where you must do your part so that the Universe gives you everything you need for your evolution. Many Blessings, IverLove, Ivan Enrique Varela.

[wolf-555-writer]

Target On My Back Part 8

Sad to say, but this it the last part of the series. Hope you like this one and hope you’ve enjoyed the other parts as well! Thanks for all the comments and reads, really appreciate hearing from you guys :)

And special thanks to @kaddistar . You’re amazing! Thanks for taking the time to read it beforehand and give me feedback to get all the facts straight. And obviously the fucking amazing backstory. Couldn’t have done it without you! :)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: Having found her true match, Natasha starts to think that even though her dark past, she does deserve happiness. But then you get shot and she blames herself for it. For the mistake she made and she starts to doubt all over again. Will Natasha be able to defeat the demons in her mind and finally get that happiness she deserves?

Word Count: 5,162

Seated on the roof of the SHIELD facility, the place she goes when she wants to be alone and think. It’s been a couple of months now since the incident. The missions are not the same without you. Natasha leans back, resting on her elbows. She closes her eyes and sighs, letting out a long breath. There was no time to drive to Headquarters. You wouldn’t have made it. Badly wounded, Clint and Natasha carried you into an emergency unit twenty minutes away from the grim warehouse instead. They made it in thirteen. Hanging on by a thread. Immediately put down on a gurney. Rushed towards an operating room by a fair amount of doctors, all dressed in white. Flatline en route... She still recalls what her shaking hands had looked like. Red. Covered in your blood. The round had pierced the vest, and didn’t leave an innocent flesh wound behind. But if you hadn’t jumped in front of her, she wouldn’t be sitting here right now. She has gone over the mistake countless times. It wasn’t supposed to go that way. Why didn’t she anticipate what was coming? Had she been off her game? Did she underestimate him? Being distracted? Distracted by emotions? It doesn’t matter anymore. It was stupid. Stupid of you to jump in front of her. It should’ve been her.

Natasha pushes the thought away. It’s not a good memory. She closes her eyes again and shakes her head as if to clear away the image, making room for a better one. It’s not a special memory, but it’s at least a tiny spark of happiness hidden in all the bad.

“(Y/N), you just missed the turn”. “No I didn’t”, you say, voice full of certainty, driving in a crappy old car with Natalia riding shotgun. Actually, it’s a stolen, crappy old car, driving away from a successful assasination attempt that won’t ever be traced back to the two of you. Not driving too fast, or too slow, calm and relaxed, not drawing any attention at all. As you’ve been trained to do. Flashes of blue lights fly by, going in the other direction fast, accompanied by a wailing sound of sirens. “Where are we going?”, Natalia asks once again. The answer she has to settle for is a mysterious grin on your face, keeping your eyes focused on the road that’s being illuminated by the poorly working headlights. The breaks screech and the vehicle comes to a lingering halt. Leaving the headlights on in the dark of night, you get out of the piece of scrap-iron, but pop your head back in and say, “You coming or what?”. Natalia opens the door on the passenger side, not knowing what you’re up too, yet liking the mystery of it. And being here in the middle of nowhere with none other than you. She walks to the front, leaning against the hood of the car, hearing the calming sound of the gentle waves in the sea. She glances at you when you appear, holding an item in your hand. A glass bottle. Unscrewing the cap, you place yourself next to her, close of course, and smile. “Want some?”. “I thought you’d never ask”, she teases and grabs the vodka bottle, taking a sip, not breaking eye contact with you. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”, you hint at her, staring into her fiery green eyes for a moment, then averting your gaze to the numerous stars in the sky above.

It was indeed a beautiful view, as well as the stars... she calls to mind when another Agent steps on the roof. Natasha speaks, “I can't. I just… I can't keep doing this”. “I know, it’s been months. Just give it some time”, the person replies. “I don’t know if I can do that…”. “You just have to hold on a little longer, okay? Can you do that?”. A hand squeezes her shoulder softly, trying to give the redhead some comfort.

“And don’t be so dramatic, Nat”, the Agent says, sitting down next to her. “I’m the one that actually took a bullet”. “Just let me have this moment okay”, she jokes, nudging her shoulder lightly against yours. “Some days I can't stand the Agent assigned with me”, she complains. “I'm constantly busy holding their hand or telling them what to do”. 

“Ah, I see. That explains the drama”, you say using a sympathetic tone. “I just miss working with you”, Natasha reveals. “Don't go too hard on them, okay. I don't know if you've heard, but it's nearly impossible to keep up with the Agent Romanoff. She's just that good”. Natasha’s eyes glint and she grins at your last remark when a peaceful silence lays over the place for a minute.

“Were you thinking about that memory again?”, you ask her, referring to the moment you entered the rooftop earlier. The redhead stays silent and keeps staring at the clouded, grey horizon. “It’s a miracle I’m still an Agent you know”, she mentions after a couple of seconds, ignoring your question still. Borrowing a SHIELD helicopter - as Natasha phrased it - wasn’t taken up that well by the Director. However, he couldn’t argue with the end result, because she brought one of his best Agents back - like Fury expected she would. “Guess you are irreplaceable after all”, you react with a smile and cup her face with your left hand. “Especially to me”. You stroke her cheek with your thumb softly and stare into her eyes. She grins. “Wow, did you just make that up or was it rehearsed?”. “As a matter of fact, it came to me this very moment. I’m just that smooth”. Natasha rolls her eyes which is roughly translated to ‘how do I put up with this person’ and says, “Only ‘cause you took a bullet for me, otherwise…”. She doesn’t finish her sentence, instead leaned closer, and gives a sweet kiss on your lips which is more than happily accepted by you - not needing to know how that sentence ended anyway.      

After your lips parted your expression hardens. “I’m sorry Nat”, you apologize. “Sorry? For what?”. You take her hand in yours and tilt your head down as a sign of failure. It takes a moment for you to speak again. “That… that I don’t remember. That I can’t remember all those memories from our past”. She lifts your chin up and locks eyes, that mesmerizing grin present, knowing exactly what to say. “Well, let’s make some unforgettable ones then”.

Your face gradually lights up and you shuffle to the right with the use of both arms. Closely settling beside Natasha and she rests her head on your shoulder quietly. Mind unwittingly wandering to the event that happened 3 months, 2 weeks and 6 days ago - you know, approximately. How your heart had stopped, and fortunately began beating again - or so you’ve been told. It's all a blurry mess in your mind between Natasha firing her Glock and you waking up, more or less in one piece, in a hospital bed. There’s however one thing you do recall crystal clear. While Natasha took the kill shot, you had jumped in front of her, just in time, due to the other not-succeeded kill shot that would've otherwise torn through your lover's tactical vest. And, even worse, through her heart. She says it was stupid of you, only you would do it again, and again, and again if it means saving her. But seriously, sometimes it feels as if there’s a real angel guarding over the high-risk life you’re living, preventing you from leaving this messed up world.

“How did they find us anyway?”, you wonder out loud, breaking the silence. Natasha looks up and takes a few seconds to gather an answer. “I doubt the KGB was searching for a presumed dead person, so I guess they found me. But, as you know, got you instead”. “Hmm catchy, ‘presumed dead person’”, you repeat ironically. “But I don't know how. Fury suspected that it was one of our own who talked” - the reason why he didn't officiate your retrieval, as to prevent a rescue team from walking into a possible ambush. Besides, the Director knows perfectly well how competent the former spy/assassin is on her own - “But there's still no proof to confirm that. So, or they're covering their tracks pretty damn good, or we just don't know. Doesn't really matter now”, Natasha concludes.

“What do you think would have happened if that KGB officer took me back? To Russia?”. Calling him your ‘dad’ hasn’t even crossed your mind. The bastard didn’t deserve it. He deserved to be shot. A retribution for what he had done to your loving mother who gave her life for you. Natasha responds firmly, “I wouldn't have let that happen”. “I know, but what if?”. “Brainwash you. Use you as their weapon. Again. He might not have been able to kill you, but it sure as hell wouldn't have been a happy family ending”. “Understatement of the year. I got all the family I need here anyways”. You glance at Natasha. She grins again. “You're really on a roll today huh”. With a silly smile you shrug your shoulders and lean closer again, just like Natasha, and receive a warm kiss once more.

“Are you sure you ready?”, Natasha caringly asks, giving her watch a quick peek. “Never been more ready”, you confidently state, waiting for this moment for what seems to be forever. Sitting still is not one of your qualities and you’ve been training day in and day out since you gained permission to get out of that uncomfortable infirmary bed. Preparing yourself for what you do best. Natasha studies you with narrowed eyes for a solid ten seconds first, “Good. That said, we should go. Can't be late for the briefing”, and jumps up. You slowly follow as if having all the time in the world. “Relax, it's fine. Coulson has a soft spot for us”. Your colleague raises her eyebrows at that statement and corrects, “For you, you mean”. “No, not only for me”, you reply defensively. “Yes he does, it's very obvious. You're his favorite”. You scoff and place your hands on your hips. “No I am not. Take it back”. Natasha marches towards the rooftop entrance and sticks with her point of view. “No, why would I? It's true”. “Okay, then I guess Director Fury has a soft spot for you, considering you still have your job”, you counter after having reached the entrance too by taking a sprint. “True, but I just call him Nick”. With a surprising smile you close the door behind you. “You're joking”. “Do I look like I'm joking?”. Natasha has raised one eyebrow with a dead-serious expression present. You wave your hand in a nonchalant way. “Pff, I'll just ask Maria”. “It's Agent Hill”. “You're so gonna regret that”. She laughs and bites her lip after saying, “Oh I can't wait”. 

Natasha scans the crowded pavement across the street. A group of tourists following their guide closely while taking pictures of the same-looking shop-windows and of dull, concrete buildings. She doesn’t really see the point, taking a bunch of photos that will be stored away on some drive and never be looked at again. Her eyes move to a person who’s wearing headphones, a black hoodie, same colour backpack and ripped, faded jeans. Nope, too young. An expensive sports car pulls to the curb, and someone in a just-as-expensive suit, glossy golden watch showing off on his wrist, is shouting curse words into his phone while climbing out. Too rich. The SHIELD Agent is waiting patiently and leans back while speaking into her earpiece, “How’s it going?”.

A scope glides over ordinary people who are unaware that they’re being watched and fixes on the image of a woman, seated at a table outside of a cosy café. A cup of coffee in front of her, already empty, and wearing sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright sun rays. She sits cross legged, a calm appearance, yet properly concealed from the public carrying a firearm and her hair is colored stunningly red. It’s Agent Romanoff. 

A voice returns in Natasha’s ear. “Watching your every move”. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be looking at me”, she implies to the other SHIELD Agent present on this operation, who is located in a five-story building across the street, scanning the block from this ideal vantage point. Natasha lowers her sunglasses a bit and peers over the metal brim at an apartment window, precisely in your direction and raises her eyebrows. “Fine, but it’s not my fault that you’re the most beautiful view”, you suggest and move the scope to a group of people who are crossing the street because the walk signal just turned green.

“Focus (Y/N)”, Romanoff says with a professional tone, though a small smile present on her features, and lays eyes on someone exiting an alleyway. Brawny looking, rough beard and ragged coat, two sizes too large, meaning it’s easy to stow a weapon underneath. No, too short. “I can't seem to spot this guy”. “Me neither”, you reply, while Natasha’s eyesight already hit her next possible target. A man who has his hands tucked away deeply in his rain-coat pockets, a hat on, possibly to hide his face, and accidently bumped into a couple holding hands. He seems jumpy and is sweating nervously, not mentally stable at all. Too paranoid. Then onto a blond, short-haired guy, eating an unhealthy burger, watching his surroundings intently - sort of - from inside a dark law-enforcement SUV. Natasha rolls her eyes and sighs. Too obvious.

“And not to mention the guy’s kinda huge”, Barton adds, taking another bite of his cheeseburger as he stares out the half-tinted car window. “Always bringing useful information to the table, Barton”. Natasha knows she shouldn’t take it out on her close friend. But she’s currently well past the point of slight frustration. The intel is correct. It has to be, because she is the one who acquired it. Her sources never disappoint- she makes sure of that. After all, she is still Black Widow. So why hasn’t the guy shown up? The man entered the country two days ago and he’s here for one reason, and one reason only. To kill. So she shouldn’t have to explain why it is of great importance to locate and capture him.

“Wait, hold on”, you return. “Found him”. See, I knew I was right, Natasha thinks, constraining herself from gloating too much. Leave that for, well, never. She doesn’t care about bragging rights or taking the self-centered glory for herself. She only cares about getting the job done. Natasha has her heart rate, breathing and mind under complete control. She’s ready. This is where the actual operation is about to start. She patiently waits for you to disclose the location. But it stays awfully quiet.

You feel a cold, metal barrel pressed against the back of your neck. The comm in your ear is snatched out and crushed inside a beefy fist. Patted-down and disarmed too. Shit. Well at least I have the target… Taking the information you have on the man into heavy consideration, then making a run for it doesn't seem the most thoughtful action right now. Especially if you want to avoid another shot wound to showcase itself on your body. And if the bullet doesn’t kill me then Nat will definitely kill me for getting shot again…  

“I still remember you”, a guy with a thick Russian accent speaks. “Yeah, seems to be going around a lot these days”. Word got out a certain KGB-snitch is still alive. And apparently you’ve pissed some people off - made even more enemies - during your previous employment.

With the butt of his gun he hits you in the head and grapples you by the collar of your jacket to brutally spin you around. Knocking you off balance, limiting a powerful counter-attack from your fist, or elbow, or knee, or- well, you get the point. Now away from the window, you face him, finally revealing himself. How in the world did this guy sneak up on you without you noticing? You didn’t hear a single sound. Not a light creak from the wooden floorboards. Or a squeaky hinge from the door. Not even a pair of footsteps. Guess he is a lot smarter than his appearance gives credit for. In addition to his covert approach, he also bypassed three- no, two-and-a-half SHIELD Agents surveilling the block and found your hiding spot too. You have to admit, the guy has some impressive skills, doesn’t mean it hurts less though. Big-guy shoves the SHIELD Agent against the red-brick wall next to the window you were previously monitoring out of and pushes the stiff barrel of the gun in the skin on your jawline. Well, he’s angry all right. You obviously did something to him that you can’t recall anymore. But it might be related to that nasty scar on the left side of his head that was recently covered by a blue baseball cap, and had just fallen off. “Some other friends of yours also gonna drop by?”, you challenge, which he answers with another hurtful strike of his handgun. You spit out some blood and mock, “Maybe they’ll hit harder”.

Big-guy’s expression doesn’t budge and your challenging remark earns you a steel fist to the stomach - Ouch - driving the much-needed air out of your lungs too. “You stupid if you think this ‘funny’ distracting will work. I still kill you for doing this”. With his free hand he points to the left side of his buzz-cut head. “And I work alone, is better that way”. Showing off your teeth that have become red with blood, you start to smile widely. “Well, that's a shame. Cause I don't”.

“Drop the gun”, a familiar voice orders. The man spins around and grabs you in a tight headlock, barking back at the SHIELD Agent, “No, you drop gun!”. Natasha hesitates but holds her aim. “I said drop it!”. His finger is now pressing on the trigger dangerously. “Do it, or I pull!”. She has a clear shot, but knows that if she takes it, he will too. And she is not looking to decorate these apartment walls with the insides of your skull. So, there’s only one option. “Alright, easy, easy”. She throws her palms up as a sign of surrender. “I'll drop it”. Is this her weakness? Would she have done this in any other situation? - meaning before you happened. Would she?

Natasha slowly lowers the gun to place it on the paneled floor and says to the guy, “Guess I forgot to look over my shoulder. It’s very important”. “Kick it away”, he grumbles. With her foot she slides the Glock towards Big-guy, also taking a small step in the process.

“Stay back! Keep hands up”, he shouts, prodding the muzzle of the gun against your temple aggressively. “Easy, easy”, Natasha says with her hands up again, now interlocked behind her head. “And this idiot forgot to look over shoulder”, he mocks with a hateful grimace and yanks on his arm, temporarily closing off your windpipe. “Jeez, thanks, I know I'm not perfect”, you cough-speak with a hoarse voice. Though, you do feel like an idiot. Too easily you got caught in this guy’s intense strong grip where it’s impossible to free yourself from. And even if you could pull it off, then there’s still the high, unavoidable chance of getting shot. Nice odds. Would this have happened if you hadn’t gone into the field today? Is it too fast? Maybe you should’ve taken more time to recover. The almost-fatal shot wound (the second one to be precise) has taken its toll on your body as you haven't reached your old physical level yet, lacking a weighted 10 percent still. The price to pay. Uncertain if you'll ever be able to reach that full 100 some day in the future. One thing is certain however, if this particular situation would’ve happened either way, then Natasha wouldn't have wanted anyone else other than you here. Somebody who thinks like her and understands her without telling or showing what to do. Somebody who can read her mind.

“But it's never too late to look over your shoulder, am I right?”, you state loudly. The humorless Russian has more strength, you’ve experienced that all too well. But what you lack in that department compared to him, you make up for in speed. “Huh?”. Before he can even comprehend what it is that you mean, you rotated your head to the side, as if looking- well, it’s not that hard to fill this in- and lowered your body just about enough to rule out an unfavourable outcome. A razor-sharp blade grazes your neck and thrusts into Big-guy, now sticking out of his chest below his collarbone. When putting her Glock down on the floor, Natasha had cleverly grabbed her knife from the sheath hidden at her ankle and threw it from behind her head, perfectly timed with your movement.

The tough guy screams in pain - remarkably in a high pitch for a dude his size - and tries to grasp the knife handle with his armed-hand, relaxing his other arm slightly. Which is more than enough for you. You grip his wrist and duck down, weaving under his bulky arm and stretch it behind his back in an unnatural position. Another cry of pain comes out and his knees buckle due to a firm kick in the back of them. The skilled knife-thrower, aka your colleague, has also jumped in, closing the distance first, and snapped the weapon that was about to be aimed at her out of his hand with a precise swing of her leg. “Impressive”, you say to the redhead, motioning to the sharp blade with your eyes, because currently you have your hands full.

At last an angry groan escapes Scar-face’s mouth when you safely detain him by cuffing his wrists together, nice and tight. Then your eyes shift to the doorpost, same as Natasha’s, when someone else arrives, severly out of breath. “What? Did I... miss all... the fun?”, Clint huffs, slightly bent over and leaning against the white-painted door frame with his arm. “We'll give you a little credit, okay Barton”, Natasha teases with a wink. “But you need to lay off the cheeseburgers. Probably better”, you advise your friend.

He looks up at you with an angry scowl which changes into concern promptly. “Hold up, you’re bleeding (Y/N)”. “Yeah, that seems to happen when I’m with the two of you”, you answer Barton, handing him the new detainee. “Wait- what exactly went down here?”, Clint asks suspiciously, pointing at the knife handle flaunting on the man’s chest. Natasha and you both shrug your shoulders in innocence. "Ugh, never mind", forcefully encouraging the massive, cuffed Russian towards the exit with an aggravated push, Agent Barton shakes his head as a reaction to his fellow Agents, “Why do I even ask”.

“First day back and you almost manage to get yourself shot again”, Natasha says, bumping your shoulder playfully while walking out of the apartment room side by side. “Yeah and it wasn’t even by you”, you joke. But when you glance at Natasha, you notice that she gives off an agitated impression. “Too soon?”

Holding up a small, squared mirror with a troubled expression, you hiss, “That’s definitely gonna be a scar”. Sorry, Natasha mouths, disinfecting the small wound on your neck that she caused after having cleaned up the dried, dark blood first. “Still, good thing you didn’t throw a Widow’s Bite. That wouldn’t have left a cut, but it would’ve hurted like hell”. “See, I do care about you”, she admits, tilting her head slightly, and putting down the medical supplies, “All done by the way”. “Yeah, love you too”, you say with an ironic tone and stand up from the exam table positioned against the back wall of the small infirmary. Mirror still in hand, you move it closer to your jawline once more and note, “Matching scars it is. Don’t even remember how that other one got there”. I do, Natasha thinks, but doesn’t consider it of great importance to tell. Could be because she was the cause of that one as well. So instead she says, with a quick wink, “Don’t worry, you’re still cute”, which makes your busted lips curve into a smile.

“Hey, you free the rest of the day?”, you ask the redhead, putting on a clean shirt - without a blood stain - and grab your leather jacket. “What are you up to?”, she replies with narrowed eyes. “Come on. It’s a surprise”. She is not a big fan of surprises, yet your mysterious look makes her very curious. So Natasha motions with an open hand to the door and says, “Lead the way”.

Having crossed half of SHIELD HQ by now, you encounter some other agents who are staring at Romanoff and you just a little too long with their judgy eyes. But you don’t care what they think of you or Natasha. Let them judge. About your shared past- which is actually unknown to them, because it's highly classified, strictly known by only a handful of people-, about your work as an agent, about your failures, not having a perfect record anymore. Nah, you don’t care. There are other, more important things to care about. And a special person in particular. Going inside an elevator that only goes to the basement levels of the building, you reach into your pocket. “I know it's probably not the same as that crappy car you told me about-”. Holding up two sets of keys, you look away and try to swallow a big lump that has formed in your throat, but feel a warm hand touching yours. “It's perfect”, Natasha says softly. “They are property of SHIELD, but I figured we could borrow them, all they do there is collecting dust anyway”, you continue. “I won't tell if you won't”, your now co-conspirator offers while you meet her fiery green eyes. You smile. “Deal”.

Entering the huge garage filled with a variety of exclusive vehicles as the excitement is radiating from your bruised face, you propose, “So, you wanna go for a ride then?”, throwing one set of keys her way. Catching them midair, Natasha gives the item in her palm a quick look. “You asked Coulson, didn’t you?”. You glare at her. “...No”. Natasha laughs. “I know when you’re lying”. “Okay, maybe”, you admit and proceed to your prefered means of transportation. The redhead eyes you and voices, “Told you. Totally his favorite”.

Before putting the matte black helmet on Natasha challenges, “It’s about time we finally see who is the fastest”. Also sitting on another motorcycle as you chuckle. “No cheating Romanoff”. “As long as you don’t put a hole in my back tire then we’re okay”, she counters sharply. Key in the ignition, ready to turn but you freeze at her reaction and look at her with narrowed eyes. “Too soon?”, she teases and closes the visor while speeding away with screeching tires. “You’re so gonna regret that”, you whisper and set the chase for Black Widow once more. This time with an entirely different intention. You tighten the grip on the handlebars with both hands and accelerate,  leaving a trail of white-grey smoke behind.

Feeling the chilly sea breeze on your skin, you slowly open your eyes and meet an orange-yellow painted sky. After an interesting run both stopped at the side of some remote mountain road to take a break and enjoy the beautiful view - you know which one. Your fellow Agent’s bike is standing next to yours, who might have reached this destination a fraction of a second earlier, but you would deny that of course. Still seated, your arms wrapped around the waist of the woman who’s currently sharing the leather bike-seat with you, not ever thinking about letting her go. She’s leaning back, cuddled up to you closely as she’s in need of some warmth to counter the cooling air around her. Both staring at the horizon where the sun is gradually setting, your chin gently resting on her right shoulder. Natasha rotates her head a bit in your direction. “Was it my fault?”. “Nat- just drop it”. “Please?”. You sigh. “Okay, I was mad at Barton”. “Yes, I noticed. Everyone noticed. My question is, why?”. “I didn’t like him knowing my past”. “So it was my fault?”. “Well… and also that you and him were so close”. You pause and Natasha glances at you, waiting for your next words. “Maybe I was jealous”. She laughs. “Maybe?”. “I was dealing with a lot of emotions at the time, okay. Give me some slack”, you counter and quickly add, “But I have it under control now”. Natasha looks at you, proud, and buries herself into your safe embrace again, resting her head against the side of yours. “Yeah, me too”.

“Told Barton the same after we had some beers. All he did was laugh, like non-stop for ten minutes”, you say with a light grumpy tone. “I totally understand why he laughed his ass off. I mean come on, ‘jealous’?”, Natasha says with a chuckle. “Clint and I are just good friends. You and I are-”. “Complicated?”, you finish with a half-smile. “Much more and will always be, is what I was about to say”, she mentions with a corrective voice. Shit, I almost forgot… You move one arm away from Natasha’s waist and still feel the item in your jacket pocket.

“I know we shouldn’t… but I brought something”. The redhead glances over her shoulder to look at your hand. Natasha’s eyes sparkle and she wants to speak, but is at a loss of words, and quietly takes one. “Cheers”, you whisper in her ear, holding up the bottle filled with vodka next to hers, “To making new memories”. She clings the glass with yours and repeats, “To making new memories”. And both take a chug of the strong alcoholic liquid. You wince a little. Oof, strong stuff. Yet Natasha seems unaffected by the Russian booze and gazes at the horizon again. Staring into the wide, unknown world, where nothing is certain. Except for one thing.

The target on your back will never go away, is what Coulson had said the moment you woke up from the almost fatal shot wound - the second one. It's a part of you. Of your past. Of your current job. You'll have to carry it with you until the end. What the end may ever be. You turn your head slightly to the left, and know it will be alright. No, not till the next time.

But till the end.   

Tags: @5aftermidnight, @ohfuckno​

[fertility-journey]

Birth Story

We tried many natural labour inductions methods to support our due date of Wednesday 24 March including; x3 acupuncture, x2 shiatsu massage, sex, long walks, raspberry leaf tea, dates, prune juice, and spicy food.

We gave birth to a beautiful healthy boy at 7:29pm Saturday 3 April 2021 (Easter weekend) weighing 3.27kg and measuring 51cm.

Our hospital offered us a debrief session with the head nurse and potentially obstetrician.

Short version

Having done a stretch and sweep earlier in the week on Monday at 1cm dilated, we were admitted to hospital on Friday evening to commence induction with prostaglandin gel. On Saturday morning in the birthing suite my waters were broken and oxytocin commenced an hour later since I hadn’t progressed beyond 1cm dilation. I was administered an epidural so I wouldn’t feel the contractions but knew they were happening via being hooked up to an Electric Fetal Monitoring (EFM) machine. I progressed to 4cm dilation and later 8cm dilation however each vaginal exam caused baby’s heart rate to drop. This called for an emergency caesarean as it was later found baby’s head was swollen and in malposition slightly transverse. The operation caused a postpartum hemorrhage (PPH) on my uterus where I lost over 1L blood. After being wheeled into recovery, I was then able to have baby placed on me for skin to skin. Once back in the room, drugs had worn off and I could feel one slow contraction for approximately 1.5 hours which was the worst pain of my life. The days following the birth was all about recovery and breastfeeding. I had two units of blood transfusion and iron infusion to try restore my hemoglobin levels which were halved. I had managed to stand up in the shower, do a poo and by the end of the week, walk down the hallway. Breastfeeding is a challenge with no milk supply so there were many discussions about progress each day and using donor milk and formula through supplemental devices to avoid bottle feeding. We were ready to head home Thursday morning after being in the hospital for almost a week. I cannot appreciate enough having flowers in my room since I didn’t leave it for days!

Long version

On Monday 29 March being 40w5d we went into the birthing suite to do a stretch and sweep. This was very uncomfortable as I squeezed my partner’s hand and looked into his eyes. One of the midwives was helpful in reminding me about hypnobirthing breath. Our obstetrician advised that I was 1cm dilated so hopefully baby would arrive soon. The midwife showed us a stretch to help relax my pelvis.

Our obstetrician wanted us back for induction on Wednesday or Thursday because of Easter weekend however we asked to push it out until Saturday.

On Friday 2 April being 41w2d we were admitted to hospital at 4pm to be given prostaglandin induction gel at 6pm. An electrical fetal monitoring (EFM) machine is used before/during/after. This was done in our private hospital room by a midwife and was once again very uncomfortable/painful. I was still only 1cm dilated. A different midwife returned at midnight for another treatment.

The following morning, Saturday 3 April being 41w3d we went to the birthing suite to receive a final treatment of prostaglandin induction gel by the midwife at 6:30am. This time I used a small amount of gas to ease the pain. There had been no change in my dilation.

Later, around 11:30am our obstetrician came in and broke my waters. I used the gas at a higher dose to ease the pain where I saw psychedelic colours for a brief moment. We thought we’d have time from here to continue waiting for labour to occur but was informed we’d start oxytocin within the next hour. It was suggested we go walk up and down some steps outside but was influenced to get an epidural. We had written in our plan that we don’t want this suggested and if we wanted it, we’d ask for it. So since they did suggest it, I thought I mustn’t be handling the pain well from the other procedures. I also thought that this was maybe a call to surrender and go with the flow. We had no time to go do stairs since the anesthetist was already in the hospital nearby and everything had to be set up ready to go on me for him to perform. We later found out that we shouldn’t have been rushed into this decision because the anesthetist is on call and could’ve simply come back.

The anesthetist ended up coming in later so there would’ve been time to walk a few stairs. He gave me the epidural which hurt and the midwife attached a catheter. This now meant I could not get up and leave the bed and would have the EFM constantly on. One of the side affects was feeling itchy across my chest.

The oxytocin could then commence to try start contractions. I couldn’t feel contractions since I’d had the epidural but the EFM showed I was. I was getting very shakey as a side effect but because of the calm environment, I could use my breath to suppress the shakes and try send baby downwards.

A different midwife started the next shift who was caring. She did a vaginal examination which I didn’t feel because of the epidural and said I was 4cm dilated. Moving into the evening, I had reached 8cm dilation with our obstetrician performing another two vaginal exams. Each time, baby’s heart rate would lower from having his head touched.

The song ‘Waiting’ by Kian started playing from my labour playlist. I said to my partner ‘how about the name, Kian?’. A quick google showed this meant ‘grace of god’ in Sanskrit, ‘ancient’ in Irish, and ‘king’ in Persian. All beautiful meanings which were discussed under fake candlelight in our calm birthing suite.

Now at approximately 7pm, our obstetrician made the call to do an emergency caesarean due to baby’s erratic heart rate and the fact I hadn’t progress from 8cm dilation. Everything changed quickly from here as a few extra people entered the room and I was maneuvered onto a different operation bed.

I was being wheeled to theatre and when arriving on the floor, met by a different anesthetist who was saying lots of disclaimers including that this operation could result in death - just what you want to hear. I required some further drugs for the operation so she was testing that I couldn’t feel the cold ice packs being placed on my body. She commended me on how calm I was or doing a good job at faking it! I was very conscious about remaining as calm as possible to ensure things could go as smoothly as possible.

It was exceptionally cold in the theater with many people in the room since everyone has an assistant. My partner was getting changed into scrubs and allowed to enter seated beside me once everything was set up. Coldplay was being played on someone’s phone.

Though probably only 15 minutes, it felt like a long time having the operation to retrieve baby. He came out safely and my partner got to announce he’s a boy. When I saw him I just said ‘oh my god’. He arrived at 7:29pm weighing 3.27kg and 51cm long. He had a swollen head which has been in malposition slightly transverse and had tiny cut on his eyebrow from the surgery tools. I had the opportunity to give baby a kiss.

From there things changed further, the cold had caused my shaking to dramatically increase and I couldn’t control it with the same breath I’d been practicing for hours in the birth suite prior. I was given some drugs to suppress the shaking and then the side effects of this was that I started vomiting. Because all this was happening, I didn’t have the opportunity to engage with baby as I needed to focus on myself. Warm towels were placed around my head.

My partner was able to look at the placenta which had a short umbilical cord which could also be a reason why baby wasn’t coming out.

I also started to experience some blood loss where my partner and baby left the room so staff could focus on me. I had a postpartum hemorrhage (PPH) on my uterus and lost 1.2L of blood. Essentially, once the placenta is delivered, the uterus should stop pumping blood to it and contract but for some reason it didn’t do this. Because I was a low risk pregnancy, there were no previous indications this could have happened. We read later that PPH has an incidence in Australia of between 5-15% and is one of the leading causes of maternal mortality.

Because there are numerous layers to the uterus, I was injected with drugs into four corners of my uterus to stop the bleeding as it was unknown where exactly the bleeding was coming from. This gave me a throbbing headache so I think I received some other drugs to counteract that which again made me vomit. If the drugs didn’t work things would have got more surgical and escalated quickly.

Once things had settled I was wheeled into the recovery room. Someone gave me water and I couldn’t believe how good it tasted. My partner entered the area and was shirtless having done skin to skin with baby. Baby was placed on my chest and I’m sad to say it’s the last thing I wanted but logic came in knowing it was so important for us to bond and physically connect. I got upset seeing the photo of baby on me with my head turned the other way. I was exhausted.

Following this, we were wheeled back to our hospital room and pain kicked in. My uterus needed to contract to its smaller size. Rather than periods of seconds/minutes or ‘waves’, I experienced a ‘tsunami’ of a long contraction with the most pain I’ve experienced in my life. I kept yelling “Omm” and then started profusely tapping my third eye trying to stimulate my parasympathetic nervous system. My partner was concerned asking me what I was doing. I knew I had to tell him so he wouldn’t worry. It was so hard to speak that I yelled “to deal with the fucking pain” - sorry babe. My partner reckons this lasted 1.5 hours. It took a while to get the anesthetist back to administer me with morphine and then for it to kick in.

By the time everything had settled and my partner was ready to get into the bed beside me (now that I have my own hospital bed in our room) he thinks it was about 4am.

A doctor had come to put a canula in my forearm since the nurses couldn’t do it since I was too pail. This is so I could receive some kind of rehydration liquids. I also had compression socks on which were plugged into a intermittent pneumatic compression (IPC) device to keep blood flowing and ensure I didn’t get a blood clot. Some nurses tried to freshen me up with wipe cleaning on my body since I’d sweat so much from the contractions.

After a couple of hours of sleep I could eat some breakfast and then shower. I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t sit up or get myself out of bed. I was put onto a wheely chair to go to the loo where I was bleeding and be showered by a nurse. The nurse encouraged me to stand to leave the shower but I then said “I feel fainty” and fainted. The emergency button was pressed so a team of nurses came in to get me back onto the bed.

Shortly after, blood test results showed that my hemoglobin had dropped 50% from 120 pre labour to 60 now which explained why I was so pale and fainted. Apparently the minimum is 80. My obstetrician said she rarely recommends blood transfusions but believes I needed two bags which we proceeded to do that night. Later in the week I also received an iron infusion.

Overall what happened was the opposite of our birth preferences/ plan. We knew previously that an induction would lead to a cascade of intervention which is why we tried to hold off as much as we could. The hospital policy is to be induced at 41w3d. I just can’t believe that what we knew would happen, did happen. In the moment when you’re in the hospital’s care, you think it must be there right thing to do... because they know what your preferences are, so why would the recommend or suggest a practice if it wasn’t necessary or there wasn’t a problem?

The need for my body to recover has impacted my ability and confidence to produce my own breast milk which was just a constant pressure during the hospital stay. There was an overwhelming amount of professionals and nurses always entering the room to check on something or give advice on something. We relied on them to provide us with donor breast milk or formula which wasn’t always timely and was surprised to see that the meals provided weren’t postpartum nourishing. Though we weren’t allowed family or friends to visit because of Covid-19 guidelines we only just managed one hour of spare time to FaceTime family and a few friends to share the news of baby’s arrival on the Monday. Wednesday was the first time

I left the hospital room to walk up and down the corridor. Though heavily supported in the hospital (we particularly appreciate a few nurses and the head nurse), we were so ready to be discharged at 10am Thursday 8 April to get home. It had been almost one week since I’d had fresh air and been outside.

The following day Friday 9 April we announced on social media the arrival of our baby.

[krispydefendorpolice]

Demon’s Bride Drabbles

Daminette December Prompt - Tree

Drabble Masterpost

This one is for @g-arya who sent me a request for information on the relationship between Damian and Marinette. A lot of the prompts from Daminette December were awesome but this one stuck out the most to me.

This happens during the Demon’s Bride universe but not during the story itself.

**************************

Marinette woke up later than usual. She had spent the night before putting the finishing touches on the gifts she had made for Damian and his family. Since this was the first Christmas she was spending with them she wanted to make a good impression on them and had pulled out all the stops on her creative ability.

Walking down the stairs at Wayne Manor she stopped when she saw Damian’s brother Dick standing in the doorway of the main parlor staring at something inside.

“Richard,” she acknowledged the man as she approached to see what had held his attention. Inside the room Damian was decorating a large Douglas fir tree with his little niece Mar’i. Damian was following Mar’i’s directions as she told him where to place garlands, tinsel and ornaments around the tree. The result was an exuberant clash of colors that only a child wold think beautiful, but it brought Mar’i joy to decorate with her uncle.

“You can call me Dick, you know. It’s a perfectly acceptable nickname.”

“Be happy I’m not calling you Grayson and accept that your nickname is a general insult and not a name at all.”

“And I thought baby bat was bad.”

Marinette ignored the man and continued to watch the two decorating the tree. Damian had a small smile and was looking at little Mar’i with a soft fondness that Marinette hadn’t seen in years. Even after their reunion most of their time was spent trying to put an end to the Hawkmoths situation in Paris.

“The first few years after Talia dropped him here we tried to get him to celebrate with us but he refused. Every time he called it a ridiculous waste of a time to celebrate a false belief in a fat red man that would bring toys as bribes for good behavior. Then a couple years ago this started,” he gestured into the room, “I still have no idea what changed.”

Marinette smiled fondly.

“The first year after my family left Tiān we went through the motions of the Christmas holiday. We decorated our bakery accordingly, my mother went shopping for gifts for me and we chose one present to be from ‘Santa’ that I could tell my peers about if they should ask.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” Dick said looking at her.

Marinette’s smile turned bitter. “We were aping at a holiday none of us believed in because it allowed us to blend into the society we found ourselves in. We would have stood out if we didn’t do those things and a good assassin is never seen.”

Dick was taken aback at her words.

“For three years we continued this practice of celebrating a belief we had no investment in. The fourth year one of my parents regulars at the bakery needed a last minute sitter so she could go to an interview. Maman volunteered me to keep the child occupied for a few hours.”

“What happened,” Dick asked. Marinette’s expression had returned to the fond smile from before but he didn’t think it had anything to do with the sight of Mar’i sitting on Damian’s shoulders as she tried to put some of the ornaments at the top of the tree herself. Well not much anyways.

“Manon happened. She’s the child I watched and during those four hours I heard all about how she was sad that Santa had been unable to find the perfect doll that she wanted. He had brought her three different dolls, a house and clothes to fill a room in that house but not the doll. She showed me a picture of her mom as a child. Her mom held a soft baby doll that had gone out of production years before. Manon had wanted that doll to give to her mom for Christmas.”

Marinette shook her head, “A child asking Santa for a gift that she could turn around and give to her mother was unusual to me. At school I only ever heard about the things he brought to my peers or their siblings. What they would give to others never came up. It stayed with me after she left with her mother and that night I grabbed bits and pieces of cloth and thread I had around my room. I used what I remembered from the picture to create an approximation of the doll.”

“And you gave it to Manon?”

Marinette laughed, “No that would have been too easy. Making it only took a few hours so it was very early morning when I finished. The sun wasn’t up yet but I decided it was the best idea to go over to their house anyways and leave it there. They often leave a window on their third story cracked a very little bit. Not enough to see it from the streets, but when you parkour over rooftops it’s something you sometimes notice.”

“You broke into their house to leave a doll?” Dick asked in disbelief.

“Yep,” Marinette said proudly. “It took skills from the League to enter on the third floor, make my way down to the first to leave the doll by their tree, and leave through the same window. Manon was so happy to come by with her mom the next morning to show us the doll that Santa had brought her mom. Christmas magic was a toy appearing because she wished for it to.”

Dick shook his head, “Unbelievable. But why are you telling me this.”

Marinette turned so she her back was to the room and she faced Dick directly. Her face turned as serious as stone. “Damian and I spent our childhoods under a regime where our childhood innocence was brutally murdered. My mother risked our very lives to tell us the histories and legends of Tiān. But it was important that we, as the children of Tiān, knew our past.”

“Seeing the joy in Manon over a simple doll, seeing the light in Mar’i over decorating a tree is a gift we are able to give to them. We were never able to be so bright. The Demon made sure any light, any joy that was so pure of childhood was ended either through blood or through death.”

“It was always a aching pain in our souls to see the children younger then us go through the trainings that broke their beliefs in a fair and kind world. That taught them that the world was really a dark place full of pain.”

“Now that we’re out of that place, in a world that allows us too, we do what we can to preserve the magic that children see in the world around us.”

“Damian wouldn’t have cared to celebrate for himself because he knows the world is a broken place. But for Mar’i he would celebrate to help protect her belief in a kind and caring world.”

Marinette nodded at Dick and turned back to the gleeful decorators. Joining them she offered an ornament up to the little girl and laughed as she dropped it on Damian’s head. Richard watched for a moment more before turning away and going to find a quiet place to regain his balance.

While not entirely unexpected the story and understanding Marinette shared of his youngest brother was yet another bitter failing his family had left their youngest. Instead of trying to understand why he didn’t join in their celebrations, they had either dragged him along unwillingly or left him alone during these times.

Perhaps they couldn’t repair the damage Talia, the League, and they themselves had done to Damian so that he was undamaged. But maybe they could fix it so that he could find a bit of the joy and belief he had been forced to throw away as a child. Maybe, this year they could do better to help their family heal as a whole.

****************************

@multifandomscribette @mochinek0 @inevitableenquere @ravennightingaleandavatempus @northernbluetongue @bluerosette23 @fertileleaf @thepeacetea @zebrabaker @mystery-5-5 @dast218 @evil-elf16 @vivilakitty @dessarious @rhub4rb @ozmav @unmaskedagain @actualaster @a-marlene-s @del-phin @tog84 @luciferge @sonif50 @actual-human-disaster @clumsy-owl-4178 @aarushi-03 @moonyloonyx @shreky-boi @thanks-captain-obvious @panda3506 @hinata3487 @thequestionablyhuman @dontgiveaflyinflip @chocolatecatstheron @asianfrustration13 @weird-pale-blonde-person @yin-390 @mycupisbroken @vixen-uchiha @kuroko26 @autisticlinx @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mariae2900 @zalladane @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @tbehartoo @novicevoice @thebookish3lf @fandomkitty8

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 27 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene and Paul draw each other, and Gene makes his confession. The sky is falling and we’re getting pretty near the end.

It felt like a shorter lunch than it really was. Paul ate all of his soup, but only half his sandwich, while Gene dove into both with as much relish as usual. In fact, he ate two sandwiches and Paul’s leftovers.

“I hope you didn’t want to do it right after we ate,” Gene said awkwardly. Paul was looking at the plates and silverware, debating cleaning things up. In the end, he just wiped off the counter and stuck all the dishes in the sink.

“Nah. Give it awhile.” He shrugged. “The only trouble is, we’ve pretty much exhausted all our entertainment options at my place.”

Gene smiled.

 “Paul, are you really telling me all you have over here is a T.V., an album collection, and some self-help books?”

“I’ve also got sketchpads. And painting supplies.”

“You still paint?”

Paul shrugged again.

“It’s not great. I don’t have time to really…”

“Let me see.”

Gene was actually a pretty fair artist. He never drew cartoons of his bandmates like Paul was prone to, in a bad mood, but he liked to sketch out comic book characters. He’d never taken any classes that Paul knew of, but he was talented. Talented enough that Paul was a little wary of showing him any of his efforts.

It occurred to him how stupid that was. He was about to fuck this guy—had spent the last four nights in bed with him, even—but somehow showing him some acrylic paintings was making him nervous. Somehow what passed for his body of work was more vulnerable than his actual body.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Cool.”

“C’mon, they’re in the guest bedroom. I’m surprised you didn’t find them earlier.” He’d had aspirations of having his own studio, or at least using one of the rooms for that express purpose, before the reality of nine or ten months on the road at a time hit him. He didn’t even paint enough while he was at home to justify that kind of expense.

Gene followed him over to the guest bedroom. Paul leaned over, dress hiking up as he yanked some cardboard and canvases out from under the bed.

“Here we go.” Instead of holding the pieces up for Gene’s inspection, he just set them out on the bed. He hung back a bit, heart thumping, not quite daring to want to watch Gene look at his work. Actually showing it to Gene felt a little like hearing his own voice on the answering machine, or the echo from a microphone, all the flaws bouncing back at him, magnified a dozen times.

The pieces didn’t have too much meaning behind them, nothing really far out or deep he was trying to convey. Bright streaks of color, some of it in splatters, but most of it in strokes, with no consistent pattern. Purples and pinks tended to dominate. There were points where he’d tried to layer on the colors, fooled around with it, only he’d half-forgotten the proper technique to do it the way he wanted. Most of the art didn’t really have a focal point, except for an odd one-off where he’d tried to paint a sunset while it was still in the air. That one was on a piece of cardboard torn off a refrigerator box. It had maybe a found art, rustic quality to it or something. And the color scheme wasn’t too bad, either, the red sun spilling over a hasty backdrop of orange and pink clouds and trees instead of his neighbors’ houses.

“I like this one a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Superman couldn’t fly with that sun.” Gene picked up the piece of cardboard carefully—too carefully, a piece of paper that had been beneath it starting to flutter towards the floor. Paul snatched it before it got there.

“What’s that one?”

“Oh, it’s only a sketch,” Paul tried to dismiss, but Gene seemed curious enough for him to hold it up for Gene to see. Part of him wanted to hide it back under the bed like a child, for all that it wasn’t particularly incriminating. Just a sketch of his own face. The hair was probably the most accurate part, hopelessly unruly; he didn’t quite think he’d gotten his own nose right, or eyes, but…

“In the makeup.” Gene’s finger touched the edge of the star on his eye.

“Well, sure. It kept me from having to shade much.”

“You look depressed there.” Gene still running his finger down the sketched-out lines of his face made Paul feel stupidly warm, like he was touching him by proxy.

“I don’t look good?”

“I didn’t say that.” A pause. Paul could always recognize when Gene was about to start a critique with him. He’d hesitate, which was kind of funny, because he never did it with anyone else, just plowed through with whatever comment he had. Paul would usually get offended anyway, but he was trying not to, at least for today. “Hey, would you do me a favor?”

Not a critique at all. Paul was vaguely surprised.

“What’re you wanting?”

“Let me try my hand at it.”

“Gene, I’m not letting you go over my drawing—”

“No, no. Let me borrow one of your sketchpads.”

“You wanna draw me right now? What for?” Paul could feel himself tense up slightly as he reached over, gathering up the paintings and stuffing them back under the bed. Despite himself, he was yanking out another pad of drawing paper from there as well. “If you wanted your album photo, all you had to do was check the newspaper.”

“I don’t want your photo. Just you.”

Paul handed the sketchpad over. There was an odd sting somewhere in his heart.

“You can’t want what you’ve already got,” he said quietly. He didn’t wait for Gene to respond, clearing his throat hastily. “I make a terrible art model.”

Gene’s expression, a little unreadable earlier, quirked a little.

“I’ll let you draw me, too.”

“I feel like you’re hard to draw.” But he’d gotten another piece of cardboard to bear down on after tearing off a page of the drawing paper for himself. Then Paul was gathering the rest of the supplies—pencils and gummy erasers—from where they lay in a coffee mug on the nightstand. It wasn’t exactly the most put-together setup. He just wasn’t around enough for any extra effort to be worth it. The guest bedroom’s only real use was as another place to stash his tour and art stuff. He could count the number of times anyone had slept there on one hand. “You don’t… really have one feature that really stands out—”

Gene stuck out his tongue.

“Oh, God, I’m not drawing that. Just your face. C’mon, sit down.” Paul gestured towards the bed, scooting up on it himself, sitting cross-legged on the pillows, dress bunched up. The cardboard and piece of paper were resting on his thighs, one of the pencils in his hand. He gave Gene the mug and sketchpad, scrutinizing Gene’s face. “Let me try first, okay?”

“Go for it.”

He’d never really studied Gene’s face before. That sounded a little stupid, given everything. Gene still wasn’t exactly attractive, though he looked a lot better now than he had when they’d first met. That hadn’t been the draw. It still wasn’t the draw.

Paul didn’t ask Gene to try for any particular expression as he started in, drawing the circle, the center line, mapping out the sections of his face in the half-remembered way he’d learned back in school and trying to adjust from there, only to, as usual, abandon the mapping about two minutes in. Gene’s eyes weren’t quite as dark as his, and his nose was bigger—you can’t hide the hook, Totie had said, back on their stint on the Mike Douglas show, and Paul remembered snickering with everyone else about it backstage. She’d had his number. Gene had struck up a friendship with her after that, excited to get to know another Jewish entertainer. Paul privately hoped he hadn’t banged her in the process.

He was distracting himself. It was hard to do the expression lines around Gene’s mouth without making him look forty-eight instead of nearly twenty-eight, so Paul abandoned all but a light insinuation before skipping over to his hair. He thought he could get that right, at least. Gene’s hair was somewhat coarse, and tended to frizz even worse than Paul’s own did, and it wasn’t as thick. All of the teasing and backcombing and tight ponytails had done a number on it. Paul pursed his lips, trying to approximate the texture with his pencil, and the sheen with his eraser.

“How’s it coming?” Gene asked, after about fifteen minutes. He’d been pretty patient, not shifting around much, even stopping himself the few times he tried to scratch his face.

“I think I did a damn good job on your eyebrows.” Paul turned the sketch around with a slight groan. “Everything else is a little…”

“You made me look really sad.”

Gene wasn’t wrong. Paul hadn’t quite figured out what to do with Gene’s lips when he’d drawn them, so he’d had them sink down a bit. The eyebrows really were pretty good, to his own estimation, and the hair was okay, and he’d at least started with the proper face shape, but—he hadn’t really caught Gene properly. Whatever his essence was, it hadn’t transferred onto the page.

“Frowns are easier to draw. Smiles, you have to get just right, and get the light in the eyes…” Paul shook his head. “Not a lot of room for error, right? And if you mess up, your drawing ends up looking like Norman Bates.”

Gene laughed, shaking his head.

“But you’ve got me looking like myself. It isn’t just the eyebrows. The chin and the mouth are right--”

“But it’s not great, either. I’ll try again later on.” Paul set the drawing down. “You can do me if you want.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

“Oh, shut up.” Paul shifted, suddenly antsy. He’d only ever seen Gene draw his own fanzines and doodle on napkins. He knew Gene wasn’t going to take this as a serious art study, but… but on the same token, letting Gene draw him felt--revealing. Almost too revealing. He wasn’t as bothered by the face Gene was going to draw as what it signified. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Gene saw when he looked at him. What stood out to him.

If he drew a pair of tits, Paul grimly promised himself he’d keep denying Gene at least until tomorrow.

“Tilt your chin up a bit,” Gene said, and Paul did so. His fingers worried unconsciously at the straps of his dress. Paul waited for more instructions, but they didn’t come. Just the scritch of the pencil against the sketch paper, and the occasional fuzzy sound of the eraser rubbing back and forth on the page. Gene kept such direct eye contact on his face that Paul was getting a bit intimidated.

“You took art in school, right?”

“Only a couple of terms. I liked it, but I wanted to get in all the electives I could.”

“Even weight training?” Paul scooted to the side.

“Your art school had weight training?”

“God, yeah. We even had a football team.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never said we won anything.” Paul paused. “Do you want me to pose?”

“No. You’re fine like you are.”

“Should I smile?”

Gene looked like he was considering it for a second, and then he shook his head.

“Just relax.”

Paul tried to, but he kept fidgeting. Not getting any direction was making him nervous. He wasn’t gutsy enough to try to look alluring without the makeup as a shield. Gene had stopped talking as he’d gotten more into the drawing, only responding to Paul’s attempts at conversation with a few “yeahs” and “uh-huh”s. He was taking longer than Paul had, too. But he seemed pleased with himself far before he signed the bottom and held it out for Paul to see.

“Here you go.”

Paul was a little stunned.

He was nearly right there on the page. Big dark eyes greeted him. Full lips, slightly parted, revealing a little of his front teeth. High cheekbones. Gene’s portrait of him was more thorough and detailed than Paul’s attempt, stopping at the shoulders, where the dress straps drooped. More attractive than Paul knew he actually was; Gene had, oddly, been kinder about Paul’s nose and jaw than was accurate, but all the same-- he’d captured something of Paul on the page. Some facet. Tenseness or intensity or both. The sketch was clearly of a chick, sure, but-- it was him.

“Gene, this… shit, this is really good.” Part of what impressed him was the self-assured pressure and definition of most of the lines. Paul’s own tended to fade out, like he was mentally erasing them after committing them to the page, but Gene went into it with a much heavier hand overall. The contrast was interesting. “And I thought all you could draw was Batman. You’ve been holding out on me for years.”

Gene shrugged.

“I had someone cute in front of me. That makes all the difference.” He paused, moving to sit beside him, pointing at the sketch. “You’ve got pretty eyes.”

“Since just lately?”

“No. Since always.” Gene seemed to hesitate. “Paul, in a way, you don’t really look all that dif--”

“Peter told me they made me look like a beagle,” Paul stumbled out before Gene could finish. He wasn’t sure why he interrupted that way. Gene snorted, reaching over and draping an arm behind Paul’s shoulders. Paul let him.

“Maybe more like a moppet. You remember those posters.”

“Yeah. Julia had them in her room when we were kids.” But he wasn’t displeased at the comparison, somehow, reaching to put the sketches and supplies on the crowded nightstand, before leaning back against Gene’s arm and shoulder. He could feel Gene start to tense, so Paul turned his head, impulsively, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “One of them was a harlequin or something, I don’t remember.”

“Paul.”

“What?”

“You didn’t let me finish. You don’t look all that different.”

“Come off it.” Paul could feel something cold and odd trickle up his spine, something he was almost afraid of. “I’ve had tits for a week and a half, don’t try to kid me.”

“I’ve been kidding myself.”

“Gene, what’re you talking about--”

“You’re the same as you always were. You’re beautiful.”

Paul sat there stunned. The icy feeling up his spine seemed to melt and dissolve in an instant. He didn’t want it to. He wanted to hold onto it. Use it as something to protect him, something to chase away any hurt, any vulnerability. His face was going florid, and all of a sudden, he couldn’t look directly at Gene, staring instead at the hem of his dress.

“I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep. But I think… I think there might still be something there after we break the curse.” Gene’s hand found one of the shoulder straps on his dress, fixing it back up, though his gaze was still firm on Paul’s face. Completely unwavering. Paul’s heartbeat felt like it could smash straight through diamonds. “I know that’s not enough for--”

“It’s enough.”

“Paul, look--”

“It’s enough.” Paul was surprised at the slow strength starting to rise from his voice with every word, like a newborn foal wobbling to its feet. “Even before all this happened. Any time I’ve ever gotten to have with you is enough.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” He was able to look at Gene now, right in the face. The warmth he’d tried to avoid was blazing inside him. It felt funny, somehow, to feel so sure, so certain, in the face of a maybe, that things would still be all right, one way or another. It felt like the bulk of the burden, the fear, was really, truly beginning to dissolve. “Gene, I…”

He couldn’t say it. Gene was waiting on it, face so near his own he could feel his breath. He kissed him instead, reaching his arms around him half-blindly, clenching tight. Paul was panting as soon as Gene broke the kiss, pressing another and another against his cheek and chin and throat, climbing into his lap as though he belonged there, and maybe, for just a little while, he did.

Gene was so warm, so unbelievably warm. Paul could swear he could feel Gene’s own pounding heartbeat against his. His breaths were coming only a little bit better than Paul’s were, his dark eyes dilated. Gene’s mouth was back on his before Paul could think clearly, needy and wanting, and it was all Paul could do to pull back and manage one last request.

“Hey. Before we-- do you think you could take me back to o-- my bedroom?”

Gene had him gathered up in his arms in seconds. Paul held tight, pressing his face against Gene’s shirt for all of the minute it took to cross from one room to the next, taking in his scent as he finally dared to hope.

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 6 - "way past that"

Season 7, episode 20 "The company" (the one where Derek finally finds his cousin Cindi after years she had been missing but her family had no proof of her death. At the very end, when Derek, his sister Sarah, his aunt, Cindi and her son finally gather and hug)

We love some unrequested long ass but hopefully not boring fic. Basically a follow-up to the episode, definitely not one of my best works...

Also bad news: I've just started season 8 which is the one where Reid has that thing going on with Maeve, so A) I'm gonna be depressed and frustrated for a whole ass season + B) there probably won't be any Moreid inspo here and there so I'm sorry but I probably won't write fics during this one :( I could still do some throwbacks to older seasons though, I'll see what my big (?) creative (?) brain can do

Read it on AO3

-------------

Reid was watching the scene through the blinds of the room him and the rest of the team were, chatting and finally relaxing while reordering their things, ready to go home.

He could clearly see, even from far away, that Morgan had teary eyes - but they weren't tears of sadness, nor anger. They were ones of joy and relief. Derek's aunt was hugging Cindi's kid, Derek was talking with his sister Sarah.

The young genius was totally immersed. He was so moved and happy that Morgan could finally let go of all the rage and uncomfort he had been burying inside for the past days - to be fair, those feelings had been there for months - he didn't even realize he was lopsidedly smiling to himself, like an idiot.

Everyone was getting out of the room with their hands full of stuff.

"You better pick your things up cause I wanna go home and sleep, and I'm pretty sure everyone agrees with me when I say that we won't regret leaving you here..." Emily said to him, jokingly.

"Yes ma'am, we do agree." Rossi responded.

"Mh mh." Reid mumbled, without shifting his eyes an inch from the view, barely hearing what the others were saying.

JJ sighed, resigned to the fact that he would probably be in there for another 30 minutes. "Alright. Bye Spence!"

-

The room was now empty. Reid saw Morgan looking at the team leaving, like he was awakened and brought back to the real world.

His eyes finally met Spencer's for just a split second, and in that moment Spencer immediately stopped looking, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing.

He coughed and clumsily stood up from the desk he was sitting on, starting to pick up his stuff with no specific order. Just to make it look like he had actually been doing something for the past 10 minutes, instead of watching Morgan like it was the most entertaining thing ever - it kinda was, to him. No matter the context.

Derek knew he had been looking all along. He simply didn't wanna look back at him, in the attempt to avoid drawing his sister's attention to Spencer as well.

Mission failed. 

"What you looking at?" Sarah asked after a few seconds of him being clearly distracted while she was talking.

Derek's eyes shifted back to her, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth like he had something to say; but no valid excuse came out.

His sister turned around and saw it. She saw what had been distracting him for the past 5 minutes: Doctor Spencer Reid, sorting out his stuff in the other room. Now that the others had gone away leaving the doctor alone in there, there was nothing convincing enough Derek could say to dissuade her from gathering that he was looking at the pretty boy in the other room.

Reid looked up at the two for a second and waved at them, wearing his usual cute-kinda-awkward smile.

Sarah waved back, giggling at how geeky he was. "So...you gonna invite the guy over to dinner or something? Ever? In your lifetime?"

Derek sighed, still looking at Spencer. "I wish. It's not up to me, I don't think he'd be comfortable with that."

"C'mon why not? We've loved him since day one just like you did." she paused, recalling a memory she wasn't sure if sharing with her brother. She quickly decided on doing so.

"As a matter of fact, Desirée was the one who predicted something was up with you two just by the way you talked about him." she smirked.

"...I always talk about every member of my team. I talk about Penelope a lot. And Emily." Derek answered, frowning, like he took what his sister said as an accuse of some sort.

"Yeah, but that's different..." Sarah pointed out.

Derek didn't answer: she wasn't the first person telling him that he'd always talked about Spencer in a "different" way, since the beginning, when he hadn't even figured out his feelings for him yet. He'd come to the conclusion that he probably did that without even noticing.

There were a few seconds of silence - enough for her to notice that Derek had got back to looking at Spencer. She affectionately put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Go."

"I-I'm sorry sis, he's been trying to ignore me for the past two days on purpose cause I've been nervous all the time and I've been acting like a dick, honestly-"

"I know, I know, I imagined that. You owe him. We're fine." she gave him a kiss on the cheek and headed closer to her aunt and cousin, to intrude their conversation and give Derek a reason not to feel guilty about leaving her like that.

-

Morgan entered the room. Reid heard his footsteps but didn't - couldn't - turn around: he was stretching over the table to try and reach a pile of documents. He managed to pick it up and started to browse through the papers distractedly, while turning around to face him.

"You know, I was thinking that maybe-" He STARTED talking.

Derek cupped his boyfriend's face in his hands and kissed him impulsively, making Spencer breathe out a faint moan of surprise and chaotically put the files back on the desk right behind him. It took all of his physical strength and the remaining amount of attention he wasn't paying to that hot kiss not to just drop the files on the floor.

He wrapped his arms around Derek's waist and leaned closer. Without even thinking of how inappropriate that must have looked, his hands snaked under the other's t-shirt, lightly stroking his back.

The moment he felt Spencer's soft touch on his skin, Derek got goosebumps all over his body. He put a hand on the back of Reid's head, involuntarily messing his hair up, and started leaving quick kisses on his jaw and behind his ear. He knew that was a huge turn-on for him. Exactly the same way Spencer knew how huge of a turn-on was for Derek when he ran his fingers up and down his back - or abs; oh, the abs.

Spencer gasped, keeping his eyes shut. In the attempt of trying to stay on his feet, he put his hands behind him, trying to hold himself onto the edge of the desk.

Wrong move: his hands knocked off the pile of papers, spreading them all over the table and the floor. That was what - maybe luckily - interrupted the dynamic, which was clearly proceeding toward a not-suited-for-work direction.

Derek stopped teasing Spencer and rested his forehead on his, breathing heavily.

"...shit " Spencer whispered, chuckling.

"Maybe I should've closed the door." Derek said, shaking his head.

"And the blinds." Spencer added, nodding his chin toward Sarah, who immediately jerked her face the other way because she'd been caught peeking at them with the corner of her eye, from the lobby of the police dept. Derek snorted and shook his head - again.

Spencer sat on the desk, letting his feet wiggle 10 inches from the floor; still absent-mindedly looking at Derek's family through the blinds. He was sure that they had to get moving, but also didn't want one of the only moments of intimacy the two got during the day to end; even though said "moment of intimacy" eventually turned out to be Spencer yawning every 30 seconds, approximately.

Derek silently stared tilt-headed at his boyfriend with a smile printed on his face, for what seemed like an eternity, laying his eyes on everything they could reach: his gorgeous side profile; his slightly furrowed eyebrows; the golden curls that almost reached his shoulders; that absolutely nonsensical but all the same weirdly charming way he used to wear his wristwatch too loose over the unbuttoned cuff of his shirt, instead of beneath it like normal people; the collar of his wrinkled pinstripe button-down, too large to adhere properly to his slim neck. Derek rested his hand on the side of that neck of his, half entangled in his hair, caressing the very edge of his cutting jawline with a thumb.

"You know," Morgan interrupted the silence and Reid finally looked up at him with his big, brown eyes.

"Sarah asked me if I was gonna invite you to dinner one day."

Spencer smiled awkwardly and raised his brows, surprised "She did?". Derek nodded.

"Wow- I'm- I'm flattered..." he stuttered in response, half-heartedly.

"...but?" Derek got serious.

"There's no 'but', it's just- you know. I thought your family saw me as the weird and awkward kid, just like...well, everyone, really- which is totally true by the way I don't mean to play the victim or anything."

Derek laughed. "Yes, they do."

Reid frowned. Was there something he wasn't getting?

"But they love you like that."

Spencer looked away, smiling shyly. Derek cupped his jaw in one hand to make their looks meet again - he understood that Spencer loved it when he took his face like that by how he immediately gave him those eyes, every time. The adorable eyes. It worked like magic.

He bent over to whisper in his ear.

"I love you like that."

Spencer was already closing his eyes and melting in Derek's warmth, expecting one of his kisses. But Morgan wanted to tease him a little bit, so he backed away from him and walked toward the door with a smirk on his face, leaving there both Reid AND the mess of files they dropped on the floor.

"Wait!" Spencer squeaked when Derek was already on the threshold of the door.

"Nuh-huh pretty boy I ain't gonna help you with that mess. Besides: it's your fault, it's not like I pushed you or anything" he said jokingly, still wearing that smirk that made Spencer's whole body blush.

"Yeah- no, actually, it's not about that, though you could help me since we're already late and it IS kind of your fault- frankly though, it's totally your fault, what did you expect me to do? You were utterly over me, physically-"

"Baby. I was joking. What was it?" Derek interrupted the flood of words coming out of his mouth.

"Yeah sorry, uhm" he paused, his brain trying to start working again after crashing for a second at the word "baby".

He kept his eyes firm on Derek's face with his mouth open - though no words came out at all - fidgeting with his hands like he always did, not knowing what it meant to stay still. Derek raised his brows in a way that meant: "I'm listening...?".

"Why- why aren't you mad?" Spencer finally said, choosing the simplest and less mistakable way to say it.

Derek frowned. "Mad? At you? For wha- wait, did you do something I should be mad about?"

"Nonono not like that it's just, I haven't really talked to you in the past few days. And I should have been there for you with all that was going on."

"You WERE there. Just like anybody else."

"Exactly, and I should have done something more, instead I acted just like anybody else on the team, but I'm not anybody else otherwise this- us, we wouldn't make sense... right?" he waited hopeful for his boyfriend's confirmation, but his expression remained the same. "So I thought you would feel betrayed in some way, I don't know if you do feel like that and you're not telling me to not make me feel...guilty, but- but anyway I'm sorry. I'm really sorry that I acted like I don't have any responsibility to you."

"Kid" Derek said softly. "we're way past the whole 'I'm here for you if you wanna talk' thing. I know that you are, and I chose not to talk about it more than we were already doing on the job. We both bear a responsibility to each other and we always both respect that" he paused. "You worked on the case, you gave me space, you hugged me when I needed a hug. That's all that matters to me and you know it inside that big brain of yours."

Reid looked like he hadn't even heard half of the talk, gazing at him with heart eyes.

Morgan paused again, expecting some sort of answer, which never came. "What? One minute you're all sorry and the next you're looking at me like- like that." he raised his hand to point toward the face he was making. "What's up with you?" he asked jokingly after a few seconds of silence.

"So we're way past that uh?" Reid quoted him timidly, like he had to make it official.

"Waaay past that." Morgan answered with an eye-roll, playing along, knowing where that was going.

"So we're...serious. Aren't we?" he questioned rhetorically, biting his lip and looking down to fake-concentrate on fiddling with the hem of his sweater vest.

"Yes, genius boy, we're serious."

Spencer nodded shortly and turned around to hide his smile; finally deciding to - once again: clumsily - pick up the files and randomly stuff some of them in his satchel, while he kept the others in his hand. If he had done that with any criteria at all, they would have all fit in the bag: that was what Derek was thinking, looking at his messy boyfriend try to un-mess things up; wondering if maybe he really should've considered offering a hand.

-

They both finally got out of the room, 20 minutes later, but Derek's family was still there. He stopped walking and grabbed Spencer's arm to make him do the same.

"Imma wait for Hotch, I'll catch up in a minute."

"Alright" Spencer nodded.

"Yeah wait, first I gotta ask you one last thing..."

"...sure" Spencer squinted his eyes, pronouncing the word slowly. Derek looked a teeny tiny bit nervous, which was unusual, to say the least.

"Does your mom know? About...us? About me ?"

Spencer grinned knowingly. "Why are you even asking, you KNOW that I tell her everything."

"...so...? "

"So I've been telling her about you since the second I met you." he paused, giving him his sweet smile. "She knew where this was going before I did." By 'this' he clearly meant them.

Derek looked down at his feet, biting his bottom lip in the attempt to contain a chuckle.

Spencer wanted to kiss him. But they were in the main lobby, there was Sarah not so far: he didn't know if Derek would be okay with it.

He hesitated a second to look around and then gave him a quick peck at the corner of his lips, so quick nobody noticed. But as soon as he pulled away a little, Derek cupped his face and kissed him way deeper. In that moment, Reid understood that Morgan really didn't care about showing everyone that they were a thing. Not even his family. He was more than just not ashamed of it - he was proud.

Spencer could have gone hours kissing like that, but he stopped. "Alright- you're gonna make me drop the files again" he mumbled breathily against his lips, smiling.

Derek laughed and shook his head, finally letting Spencer go and following him with his gaze as he walked away.

-

He looked over to his sister: she was smirking. She had been looking at them all along. Nice.

Derek scratched the back of his neck and turned around, already regretting kissing Spencer in front of them: he could only imagine the amount of embarrassing questions expecting him at the next family dinner. To which he would also have to take Spencer with, at that point.

Hotch finally got out of an office where he had been talking with God knows who about God knows what for the whole time Morgan was with Reid. He always had to do the boring, bureaucratic stuff.

"Morgan. Have you been waiting for me this whole time?" he asked, in the most ironic tone he could pull off - which wasn't THAT clearly ironic.

"Yeah- no, actually, I was- nevermind. We good to go?"

"I was kidding. I know you were talking to Reid."

Derek nodded, looking at his feet, like talking to Reid was something to keep secret. Problem is, 'talking' wasn't all they'd been doing in the other room for 20 minutes.

Hotch frowned: he sensed something was wrong - mistakenly. "Is everything alright with you two?"

"...why are you asking? Should I know something?" Derek returned the frown. Apparently, that day people thought it was real fun to say confusing things.

Hotch sighed. "Reid wanted to apologize to you for a thing. He only hinted it to me but I can guess what he was talking about."

Derek breathed out, relieved. "Yeah. There was no need to apologize but you know how he's done. We're good." he answered, trying to hide a smile that said: we're REAL good.

"Thank God. When something is wrong between you two it's a mess." Hotch smirked with an eyebrow raised, using that same "ironic" tone from earlier, which came off as such only to the team because they knew him enough to resign to the fact that that was the most ironic it could ever get.

Derek snorted, smiling, without asking for an explanation: he knew exactly that the way the whole team functioned on the job got fucked up big time when there was tension between Spencer and him.

Hotch casually patted his shoulder. "Alright, let's get on the jet already. They're all probably asleep by now."