#it sucks though she felt compelled to try to come in while clutching her stomach in pain

[holytrinityofdisgust]

Greeted this morning by my coworker retching into the trash can. "Sorry if I puke in front of you," she said. That's quite alright... believe me 😵‍💫

[nelllraiser]

empty hearths | nic & nell

PREVIOUSLY: Plot Drop Page

LOCATION: Nic’s Home

TIME: 10:05 PM

PARTIES: Nicodemus Bossier and Nell Vural

TRIGGERS: Family Death

Nell still didn’t have her license. The thought had bizarrely occured between all the shock and crying that had taken place since she’d woken up next to her sister’s headless body, Nell covered in blood that wasn’t her own. Generally one to have a strong stomach, it’d only taken a moment of looking between Bea’s body and the red splatters on herself to make the connection, and she’d promptly retched, body refusing to handle the reality of her situation. But she still didn’t have a license, and here she was driving to Nic’s home, hands clutching the wheel as if her very life depended on it, and trying not to think too hard about what was in the back of Bea’s car. It was the only way she could move the body. Nell refused to think of it as Bea’s, some part of her brain choosing to protect itself from that reality, as well. As she advanced on Nic’s door, the panic rose in her throat again, mixed with the black hole of pain that threatened to suck everything into its center, so massive and raw that she could barely make sense of it. “Nic!” she called out, voice broken and rough from her screams and cries. “Nic, please!” The words became more desperate, trying to keep herself together, but the composure quickly slipping. “I need help! Please.”

He hadn’t gotten to bed. Between what had happened with Skylar and his own thoughts, it was hard to shake the concern of what might happen if he wasn’t there. An unknown feeling that sat in his hands as he sharpened knives and cleaned guns. It was irrational, Nicodemus knew it, but sleep could wait. So when he heard a car approach and a familiar voice that didn’t sound familiar in the way he knew it, he was already moving. Senses alert, nerves near to shot. I need help. It was Nell. He knew it before he opened, no, threw the door open. Caught it in time before it cracked against the wall. Something had happened. He could smell the blood, heavy in his nose. A hand hovered towards Nell. Stopped before it reached her. The way she looked at him, he was afraid she might collapse to dust. “Nell,” he called gently. “What happened?”

Faced with the first live person she’d seen since everything, Nell crumbled, her body and hands covered in her sister’s blood beginning to shake without her so much as realizing they were beginning to do so. Everything was moving so fast, too fast, and yet seemed to be stuck in a statis in the same breath. She looked up at Nic, somehow both seeing him and looking through him with an utterly lost expression on her face. “I need help,” she repeated, quieter this time, still thoroughly in her state of shock. Tear tracks were still fresh on her face, running through the blood that had fallen on her when Bea had launched herself in front of Nell. “She’s- she’s-” her voice broke again, a dry sob coming forth, afraid to say the words aloud. “He killed her. He was supposed to kill me, but he killed her.” It was difficult to make sense when your head wouldn't stand still, when you weren’t sure if the world was still there, or if you were simply wishing it wasn’t. 

She was falling apart in front of him and all Nicodemus could do was stand there. Breathless, throat wrenched tight. Something terrible had happened and it was wrecking through her, he could see it. He looked down at her, blood cold and senses eerily still. Blood covered her face and hands. From what he could tell, it was fresh. Was it hers? Goddamn it, what was happening? These things happened. He knew these things did. It wasn’t the time to think about when he had likely been the cause of such things. It was a far off thought and one day it would catch up to him, but looking at Nell, he decided it would not be then. Someone had died and it hadn’t been her. Lightning struck him and his eyes opened by a slim margin. It wasn’t with relief that he breathed. “What’re you talkin’ about, Nell? Who got hurt?” His voice was quiet as he spoke to her, his brow furrowed. Blood had stuck bits of her hair to her face and like his grandmother had once done for him, one of the handful of times he saw her, he brushed it back.

The hand was the only thing steady in Nell’s world for a moment, but the feel of it also reminded her that this was real. She was actually- “Dead. He- he took her head.” Processing wasn’t going all that well for her, unable to make sense of the world she’d woken up to, a world that was much changed from how she remembered it. “My- my sister.” There it was. Now that she’d said the words, she couldn’t get them back. Now that she wasn’t the only one who knew...fuck, this was actually happening, wasn’t it? Tears came to her eyes once more, unbidden and somewhat unnoticed as she shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts that were ricocheting off the walls of it. “Bea.” Her voice cracked on the single name, the wetness on her cheeks only growing damper as she went on. “Bea’s dead. It’s supposed to be me!”

He. Was it a trophy killer? The way she spoke about it, that seemed to be likely. God damn it. But whose head was--Sister. Nicodemus didn’t blink nor breathe nor move. He went still. The realization seemed to cut into them both. Fuck, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Didn’t know where to start. His hand settled on her shoulder, light but present all the same. Looking at her, his eyes started to glaze. It was strange, the pain that came over him. He wasn’t wounded but she was and he could feel it in his own bones, his own skin. Bea. He had met Bea. Laughed with her, dealt with a brownie infestation. There and then gone. Her kitchen would be empty. Quiet. Hollowed out. It wasn’t alright and he refused to say as much. There was no comfort to bring to this that he knew of. “Nell I’m...” He didn’t know what it was that compelled him to move. Maybe it was her shaking, her trembling, that knife edge she was balanced on of completely collapsing that he could see. Not like this. Slowly, he brought one arm around Nell and then the other. Held her because he was afraid that if he didn’t, she might fall away.

Once his arm went around her, Nell instinctively reached out to cling to him, his motion somehow making things both worse and better at the same time. It was as human as they could be in that moment, unsure of what to do and simply reaching out to offer physical comfort when words couldn’t be found, but it was also a reminder of why she needed comfort in the first place. Finally, she crumbled fully into the moment, and though it was terrible and cutting, it was needed, and something she couldn't ignore or bottle up. Pain this raw simply demanded to be felt, to wreck its havoc on whoever it inhabited. So she stood there for a few minutes, letting herself break into pieces as she cried against Nic, knowing that no one had ever seen this like this before, but feeling safe enough to have the emotions flood over her while he was here. It took a long few minutes to remember that she’d come here for a reason. She needed help. So finally she lifted her head, trying to vainly wipe away the new tears that had gathered on her face. “I need help,” she repeated the same words as before. “The body- I have it. I need- I don’t know where to put it. I can’t put it-” at the house. What if her dad came by? At least her mom was in Turkey. God, her mom. Nell had taken the thing she loved most in this world. “I don’t want- people can’t know. Not yet.”

Nicodemus didn’t say anything as he held her. Just stared out at the distance beyond and the Beetle she had driven there. Emotion, feeling or understanding it, wasn’t his strong suit. But he knew that sometimes a wound needed to bleed before it could heal. This wouldn’t heal anytime soon but if Nell needed to bleed, he could at least be there. That much he could do. The hunter didn’t know who he was, the one that had taken Bea’s head, but he reckoned the man couldn’t do much anymore if he didn’t have his. That thought grounded him. “I’ll help you.” It wasn’t a matter of I can. It was an I will. He let go of her to give her her space as she spoke. Christ, she had the body. Had driven all the way to his home with it. When he looked at her, his face bled with concern that he couldn’t quite restrain. He couldn’t quite keep the body with him. If Skylar just so happened upon it… He refused to think about it. It was easier to think of it as a body and not as Bea Vural’s. “They won’t,” he assured. It was alarming how quick the name came to him. Erin. She’d get it. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time he waltzed in with a body over his shoulder. But it would be different. Wholly different. His expression softened as he looked at Nell. “Do...Do you want me to wrap her up, Nell? I can do that for you.”

The first positive emotion to cross over Nell since she’d regained consciousness was one of relief. It barely registered as it washed over her, it being hard to outclass the pain, but at least it was something to feel other than the gaping hole in her chest. I’ll help you. She wasn’t alone in this. Nic was going to help. It meant more to her than she could even begin to process in the moment. “Thank you,” she managed to strangle out. “Thank you, Nic.” Nic was providing what she needed most in these moments. A direction. If she had direction, it would give her something to focus on rather than these feelings running rampant in her chest- stomach- head. Wrapping her up. That was something that should happen, shouldn’t it? “Are you sure? She’s just- it’s just-” she switched pronouns quickly once again, her mind already trying to create a wall between her and the pain, one that would make it so she could at least function without dissolving into the ground. “In the back of the car. I Summoned a tarp- I didn’t want- her car- she wouldn’t want-” She cut that train of thought off, some foolish part of having wanted to at least try to keep the car clean like Bea would have liked it. As if that mattered now.

“Ain’t gonna leave you out in the cold, kid.” Nicodemus said without hesitation. Focusing on that steeled the rest of him. She had come to him for help and that was all he needed to think about. He patted her shoulder, held it for a moment, and glanced at the car again. Bea was in the back of the thing. Good lord. He glanced at Nell and nodded once. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he said as he started past her. Paused a moment to look at her. “Ain’t gotta be you. You got here. You did good. Let me do this for you.” He didn’t know if it would help. He didn’t know what place words had when grief buffeted her like unrelenting storm wind. It was a grief he couldn’t know, but whatever she needed, he could try. He walked slow to the car and when he got to the back of it, where that blood smell sat heavy like a living wall, he paused. He was used to the smell of blood. Used to it enough that he could ignore it more often than not. But he knew Bea and Nell, her blood, was just a few steps away. It was different when it was the blood of someone he knew, he found, and it sat uncomfortably in his throat. “You ain’t gotta see this, Nell.”

She wouldn’t be left out in the cold. Something was comforting about that even if it had been meant in a more literal sense than anything else. Nell didn’t have to face this completely alone. She had someone here, someone on her side, someone to help guide her through the endless night that had gathered on the path in front of her, leaving her blind. Nic would be the flashlight, to show the next steps that were needed. She’d done good? He’d said that, hadn’t he? Nell hadn’t imagined it? Part of her rebelled instinctively against the words, knowing that Bea was dead because of her. Nothing about that was good. And yet— if Nic said it, that meant he believed it, right? So she clung to this as well as her feet followed Nic on autopilot, grateful for all he was offering her tonight. “I’ve already seen it, Nic,” she offered quietly, still by his side. The thought of not being next to him was daunting. Part of her felt like if she was even relatively alone, she’d fall back into that panic without an anchor to keep her in place. And Nic was her anchor tonight. “I just- I can’t- touching her-” Nell didn’t want to feel it, the absolute lack of life and the clamminess of Bea’s skin beneath her fingers, that fire that lived in her sister finally extinguished, the hearth empty. “I’m sorry.”

She was right. She had already seen it. He heaved in a heavy breath solemnly. His hands wrung around each other before Nicodemus lifted the trunk of the car. Ignored the way the blood clung to his fingers as he pulled his hands away. The smell was overwhelming and he tensed as his guts roiled. Nell had been spared from having to smell that heavy copper. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The body--Bea’s-- was on the tarp, just as Nell said. But it didn’t feel right to wrap her in plastic. Didn’t feel right to crinkle her up like she wasn’t Bea Vural and her baby sister was looking at her. He murmured to Nell that he’d just be a second as he went over to his truck, not too far away, and returned with a faded plaid blanket. It was old, a relic in comparison to most things he had, but it would do. With the blanket over his shoulder, he shook his head. “You ain’t got to.” There was nothing to be sorry for, no apology that needed to be said. What had happened was beyond it and Nell Vural was the last person on earth that night that needed to seek absolution. Bea’s skin was frigid as he carefully bundled her in the sheet, a bit of plastic around where her head had been to keep the wound from sticking to the fabric. He went about it as efficiently as he could. Bundled up as she was, she was alarmingly light, small even, as he lifted her out of the back of the car. “Think I know someone that could keep her for you,” he said as he glanced at Nell. “Until you’re ready.”

Seeing Bea, even from this distance, was more than enough for Nell. Headless, bloody, grotesquely fit into a trunk that certainly wasn’t meant to hold a body. But instead of sending her back into emotional turmoil, the sight caused a numbness to begin its spread. Was this her body’s response to the pain? Shut everything down because seeing this— and knowing her sister was dead was far too much for her psyche to safely handle at the moment. Better to just push it away and feel nothing at all. If she let herself be carried away by these tidal waves of emotion, there’d be no making things right. Not that things could be made right. Things weren’t anywhere close to right so long as Bea was gone from this world. And yet seeing the blanket in Nic’s hands, it broke through that nothingness for a single moment, her throat tightening once again. It was such a small gesture, but one that caused tears to prickle at the corners of her not yet dry, eyes. When he hefted Bea, she finally looked away, not wanting to see the sight of her sister being carried, as limp as any other carcass. “Thank you,” she repeated once again. “Thank you, Nic,” she barely breathed, clinging to this gift he’d given her, something she could put her energy into that wasn’t the feeling of the fabric of her life and mind unravelling. “I don’t know how to-” How could she possibly let him even begin to know how much he’d been here for hers, the thing that had kept her from slipping through the cracks into a heap of nothingness. “Just thank you.” She didn’t even say anything along the lines of owing him, somehow knowing for once that this was something he was giving free of any strings whatsoever, even those that she might generally draw for herself when it came to paying people back. Besides, she was sure he knew that she’d do the same for him in return. Anything at all.

He didn’t know how to mourn. Had never been properly taught how to welcome the absence of someone that had been there one day and then gone the next. As he held Bea and looked at Nell, Nicodemus felt secondhand grief come down like heavy rain. It wasn’t secondhand. He couldn’t claim immunity and God knows he didn’t want to. Not for this. None of it was fucking right. His hold on Bea was stalwart as he carried her to his truck. The hunter reached for his phone but paused when Nell spoke, his gaze pulled towards her. His thumb hovered over Erin’s name before the phone slipped back into his pocket. It could wait. That sensation of heavy rain gathered in his eyes as he walked towards her. “Ain’t gotta thank me, Nell,” he said, throat tight as a drop slipped from the inner corner of his eye. “I’ll get her taken care of.” Speech proved difficult, with the way that emotion choked, but he tried. Unsure of what else to say, he put his hands on her shoulders. Looked her in the eyes. Ignored her sister’s blood on her face. He shook his head and carefully, slowly, pulled her into another hug. Why she had gone to him, he didn’t know, but it meant something. Rain continued to fall from a well he didn’t know had been filled. He might not be good at it, his hands too good at breaking shit, but he could try. “I got you, kid.”

[mandochlorian]

white flag (kylo ren x reader)

part I part II part III

summary: sneaking out of the resistance base on Ajan Kloss isn’t the safest idea. but you have to reach out to Ben just once more, in case you never see him again.

song inspiration

general masterlist

star wars masterlist

“Get away from me!” You shout, your eyes are wide with fear. It’s so dark that you’re barely able to see the thing in front of you. It’s relentless in its torment, speaking to you in your own voice and racing around the hallway on the Death Star. You swing at it, making sure to hold the Wayfinder tightly in your hand.

“Don’t fight it,” you see the glow of the creature's teeth against you saber and it's only now that you see your weapon has changed colour. It’s once vibrant blue is now red, glowing and hissing like Kylo’s does. “I know you feel it.” It steps towards you, and you can’t help but move your weapon away from her.

“Stop it,” you mutter, watching with curiosity as this dark version of yourself approaches you.

“You could be so powerful together.” It’s almost like looking into a mirror, but your eyes are red and your cheeks are hollow. The thing in front of you... it is isn’t you, yet somehow you feel connected to it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grit your teeth, wishing this hallucination would cease confusing you.

“You,” she continues, you let her circle you as she speaks, “And the Supreme Leader together would harbour power beyond limitations.”

“No.” You shake your head, looking down at your lightsaber, watching sparks fly from it and fizzle away onto the wet ground, “I... I have hope for him.”

“Unfounded hope!” She exclaims, giving you a look of pity, “Poor child, you know the only way to be with him... is to join him.” Reaching her hand out, she waits for you to take it. “The only way you can be together... is to share a throne.” Something compels you to reach your hand out, slowly but surely. Your hand trembles on its way to meet hers, and she lets out a small laugh at her victory. You’re doing it... you’re embracing your dark side. It doesn’t feel completely right but... in this moment of weakness, t’s happening.

Before your hand's can touch, her bony fingers grip yours roughly and she pulls you forward with such force, you’re suddenly brought out of your vision. You flinch away, pulling your hand back roughly from the creature but you stop when you see Rey standing in front of you. Her eyes are confused and worried, and she examines your face whilst her lips move. “Y/N!” Her voice comes into focus, holding your hand gently, “It’s Ren. He’s here.”

You look to your other hand, you see the Wayfinder is gone. “N-No, I-”

“I’m impressed.” The deep voice sends shivers down your spine. You can see the dim glow of the Wayfinder at the entrance of the hallway. He has it. How the hell did he take it from you? “You two make quite a team.” He tilts his head at you, watching you through the dark as you march up to him, stepping into the light, unafraid.

You walk directly to him, hand gripping your lightsaber as you stare him down. “Give it.” Rey sneers, eyes glued to the man before you.

Feeling her untamed rage flow through her words, Kylo lets out a shaky breath. You take a step toward him, “Give it to me.” You order, watching as his eyes snap to you, “You’re outnumbered here, Ren.”

Ren. He’s never heard you call him that before. It sounds wrong. Too formal. Hurtful. He brushes it aside as best as he can. “Yet, I hold the power,” he replies, lifting the object up and toying with it, “The only way you’re getting to Exegol is with me.”

He begins to crush it in his fist, but quick enough your lightsaber is at his throat. “No! Drop it... Now!” You exclaim, closer to him than you’d like to be. Your knuckles whiten and your breathing is heavy, “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“You won’t do it,” he whispers, leaning forward and you instinctively pull your lightsaber back so as not to hurt him. You whimper. It reminds you of your vision, but this time it's real. You’re weak. “See?” Kylo whispers, leaning even closer to you, so as to torment you.

Bringing your lightsaber higher, you hold back the tear properly this time, face going emotionless and stoic. He stands up straight. “Do as I say. Or I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” You promise him, clenching your fist around your weapon and taking a gulp.

Kylo casually takes one look at the Wayfinder, pulling his arm back in the air. “No,” you gasp, watching as he throws it down into the depths below. “No!”

You watch it fall from the ledge and sink into the water below, letting out a hateful groan. Your first instinct is to follow it, jumping down after it much to the surprise of Kylo, who is left to fend of Rey and her ignited weapon. The water is freezing and rough, and you struggle to find the object. It’s so dark under the wreck, you’re not sure which way is up anymore. You can hear your heart beating fast. It’s all happening so quickly.

I can feel you struggle. You stop frantically searching, pausing under the water for a moment.

Ben?

Focus, Y/N. You need to focus.

I can’t... All you can think of is the vision, cowering from Kylo, and seeing your blue saber at his throat. Blue. When it was once red. It’s in your head... right? I’m weak. Rushing to the surface of the water, you take a deep breath as you reach it. I’m going to die here... I’m going to die here all alone and everything... everything would have been for nothing.

Breathe. Just breathe.

You’ve never been alone, Y/N.

Sucking in a breath, you close your eyes. One last shot. Your hands are stretched out and you dive under the water, and when you open them again it feels as though everything is clear. The light from the Wayfinder glows amongst the dark water. Reaching for it, you kick your legs as hard as you can, feeling your fingertips graze the object. Even your chest is struggling to comprehend the sudden lack of air as you touch the object once more, just missing it. Angrily, you kick one last time and finally, your hand wraps around the object. It feels like pure instinct getting back to the surface, and when you do, your throat aches with the force of air you heave into your lungs.

The current is unrelenting, and the waves push you against a wall, almost pining you there. At this point, your arms and legs are aching. All you can hear is the constant crashing of water against your body and you try not to let the exhaustion overcome you when you suck in a deep breath. Kicking off the wall, you shoot yourself into open waters. Anything’s better than drowning in the Death Star wreck. As soon as you appear from outside of the wreck, you feel a pair of strong hands on your waist. It takes you everything to not let your body relax against Kylo, but you accept it as he heads for the platform above the water.

But it isn’t much better, you feel yourself being pulled back into the currents orbit. “Hold on!” you can barely hear him shout to you, though his lips are beside your ear. You hold him, your eyes fluttering shut over and over again as you try to fight off the exhaustion. Your back smacks against the wet metal as the water drifts back into its natural pattern. Coughing, you turn on your side to expel the water you had swallowed while trying to stay alive. The Wayfinder is still in your hand. That’s what matters most. Looking up, you see the red spark of Kylo’s lightsaber firing up and you can help but inch away from him until you realise his eyes are focused behind you.

“I won’t let you take her!” Rey shouts, her weapon pointed at Kylo’s as he stands and faces her. You steady your breathing, both hands placed on the platform as another cough wracks your body, “You will not corrupt her!”

“She belongs at my side!” Kylo sneers back, his own lightsaber ready by his side as he stands over Rey, “It is her destiny, you know it to be true.”

“No!” Rey shouts, striking her weapon against Kylo’s.

Something drains you extra fast as you stand up, Kylo glancing over at you as Rey stumbles to her knees. You barely make sense of the scene, feeling a loss in the centre of your chest. eyes are fixed onto Kylo’s, your thoughts drift to Leia. Kylo must feel the same thing. His face loses all expression, his hand going limp and his lightsaber falling as his head hangs low.

And suddenly... so suddenly, you see red light penetrate Kylo’s stomach. You blink. You’re seeing wrong. You have to be seeing wrong, this can’t be real. But then you feel it, and the pain has you doubled over in a groan as you clutch your chest. The ache you felt expands and you look up to see Kylo stumbling back, trying to catch his fall as his back leans against the metal.

“No,” you gasp, stumbling to your feet and rushing to him, “No! What have you done?” You mumble to Rey, your voice quiet and your vision blurry as you stare at the weak man in front of you.

“I... I-” Rey stutters, dropping Kylo Ren’s lightsaber by her feet, “Leia.” Her mind is on the General, the loss of her presence, and Rey rushes to Finn and Jannah who watch from a different platform.

“Ben...” you cry, unable to tear your eyes from his wound, “No, no, no,” you shake your head, placing one hand on his cheek, “Please, please...” you’re not sure who you’re talking to or what exactly you’re begging for.

He whimpers, unable to stop gasping to speak to you. Ben’s eyes are wide as he watches you, his lips parted and twitching slightly as he tries to talk, “G-go,” is all he’s able to muster up. He doesn’t want you to see him. Not like this. He doesn’t want you to be there when his lifeless body is still, unable to pass gently into the force.

You don’t know what to say. Or do. You cry as you look into his exhausted eyes. So you just press your lips to his, for the first time in such a long time. And your tears fall onto his cheeks, rolling down his neck as your hand rests on his panting chest. You feel like you can’t breathe for a second, it feels as though you’re being drained of life. When you pull away, you can see a faint smile on his face. But as quickly as it was there, it fades.

You sob loudly, resting your forehead onto his chest as you cry out. Your screams are unintelligible, almost animalistic. Finn, who watches, doesn’t know what to do.

“We have to get out of here!” He grabs you by the arms, pulling you back as the waves around you build higher and higher. “We have to go, Y/N.” There’s nothing he can do. He holds you to his chest, watching Kylo go still, and he tries his best to pull you to the Falcon. “Please.”

“This wasn’t meant to happen!” You cry into Finn's chest, eyes squeezed shut as water from the waves splashes down on the back of your head, “I wanted... I wanted him t-to find peace. For once! Ben, Ben... I couldn’t help him. All I wanted to do was help him!” Your body wracks with sobs, and you cry so hard that sounds cease to come from your mouth. You whisper now, looking out into the stormy ocean as you’re pulled onto the Falcon, “I wish... I wish you lived in peace for longer.”

taglist: kinkywitchy ah-callie

[guileheroine]

enchanted 

A spell gone awfully right. Some Gelphie written for the Femslash Kink Exchange 2020 (explicit) 💫💖 / 2k / ao3

Something was happening to Galinda, and Elphaba didn’t know if it was the right thing. She dropped the wand in her hand, eyeing her warily, trying to ignore her heart sinking.

Galinda tossed her hair over her shoulders, shoulders square but trembling, and aimed her gaze at Elphaba. “Elphie, I…” She breathed - it looked like it was a real effort to school her breath - and bit out the words. “I’m not sure what you did, but I don’t think it worked.”

Not how she had anticipated it to, at least.

Elphaba stared dumbfoundedly, her grasp on the grimoire gone slack. Damn it, damn it - she knew she shouldn’t have tried this one. This was not her wheelhouse.

It’s just that… Galinda had asked so nicely. And they were being nice to each other now, so it only made sense to reciprocate.

It wasn’t such a complicated favour on the face of it… And Galinda could be so high strung, it was almost impressive that she was being smart enough to ask for some relief with that. Maybe Elphaba had gotten caught up in that fact enough to let it get the better of her head - which knew, through the rising panic, that this had been a serious mistake.

Relaxation charms were notoriously… experimental. ‘Roundabout,’ one article she once devoured had called it - rather euphemistically, she thought, once she had read on to learn exactly how they could go wrong.

“Um…” She started, eyes boring into the book, willing the right words to fall into her head. She could sense Galinda shift uncomfortably across from her on the bed. But Elphaba hadn’t a clue what to think, say, or do, and the paralysis only fuelled her panic.

Eventually, Galinda bit, her voice painfully high with the (soon failed) effort of not wavering. “Um, are you completely certain it was the right spell? Elphie?” An awkward minute passed, where Galinda’s chest rose and fell ever more erratically. All of a sudden, she yelped and sat on her hands, some invisible tension snapping. Then she threw tact to the blessed winds. “I’m not feeling... I’m feeling a lot more… distress, if you follow. What… what exactly did you do?” The familiar sugarcoated steel in her voice finally surfaced through the wobble.

Elphaba flipped through the spellbook like she was scrambling for a lifeline. “I don’t know! It’s supposed to help you feel - better. To unstress you.”

She continued to avoid her gaze. The truly morbid thing was that there was no better way than avoiding her gaze to tell Galinda that they both knew exactly what was happening. So Elphaba pulled her eyes from the book to look at her.

Galinda wound her restless fingers in the pale satin of her nightgown. The creases she left did not befit her, and Elphaba was sorry enough to see her in such a state that for a brief, helpful moment her own shame was quelled.

“I’m sorry,” she gulped. “It was the right spell, look! ...I think I just did it wrong. I messed up.”

“Well, then you have to fix it!” came the instantaneous plea. The indignance on Galinda’s face melted into a desperation so pure that if it was hard to look at her before, Elphaba couldn’t tear her gaze away now. “Elphie, you have to fix it.” Her eyes were saucers, glassy in a way that made the jolt in Elphaba’s chest drop into her stomach. The embarrassment flooded back into her with amazing force and several different fuels.

“Help me,” Galinda insisted.

“Help you...?”

For the first time, the extent of what had overcome her friend dawned on Elphaba. In the new light, Galinda’s proposition was painfully obvious. But the thought that Elphaba might have literally charmed her pants off was a little too much to bear, and she gawked as Galinda continued to eye her.

“Come on, Elphie. I’m not going to kick you out of our room. Not anymore.” Her high laugh hitched. Despite the tightening strain in her voice, Galinda’s eyes flashed. She looked about a second from lunging at Elphaba, who almost winced.

To both their surprise, it was Galinda that winced (and - moaned ) when Elphaba grasped her, hands firm on her shoulders. “Listen to me.” She swallowed as Elphaba drove on without a beat, speaking to the region of her neck. “I’m going to help you get through this because I made it happen. We’re going to fix it… and then we’re not going to mention it again, okay?”

“Fine. Goodness! Elphie,” Galinda choked out, and then Elphaba was thrown back on the bed before she found the breath to retort.

Galinda was straddling her. For one foggy moment, Elphaba’s hands were at a total loss. Then she jolted upright when Galinda took them in her own and placed them squarely over her breasts. She even squeezed.

Spectacularly unprepared for the sensation, Elphaba choked back a gasp. Her eyes flew to Galinda’s, which were intent and piercing in spite of the obvious arousal. Her breasts, on the other hand, were unbelievably soft, full in a way that made Elphaba’s stomach swim. When she braved a glance, the nipples were tenting the satin of the nightgown.

Elphaba’s mouth was dry and watering at once.

“Come on,” Galinda muttered, squeezing their hands again. When she moved her hands to hastily tug down the straps of the gown, Elphaba didn’t let her own fall away. The moment she made that choice, she knew a threshold had been crossed.

Well, there was nothing for it. She was determined not to let Galinda down. When the satin fell away she gripped lightly, letting the breasts fall into her hands, fill them, all the while willing her own breaths to keep coming.

Galinda made a sound, high for how low in her throat it came from. “Suck on them. Don’t be shy, Elphie.”

It was sort of a relief that the spell had put her in such a state. Elphaba didn’t need to be told twice; and it was easy enough to tell herself that it was for Galinda’s sake, and not her own wicked whims, that she got to work as quickly and enthusiastically as she did.

And when she did, Galinda’s trills fell like a shower of stars over them. Her hands clawed at Elphaba’s shoulders as she rocked against her tightly crossed legs. Flush against her skin like this, the intoxicating scent of Galinda’s overperfumed soap filled Elphaba’s senses as much as the taste of her skin did - sooner than she had bargained, she felt as deliriously enchanted as Galinda clearly was.

Only when Galinda began to pull at the collar of Elphaba’s own nightgown did she start to freeze.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes darted up, trying to catch Galinda’s, but they were fluttering and closing.

“Well, I need more,” she said, flustered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Let me touch you too.”

Elphaba nearly scowled. “What’s that going to - !” The fact that her own resistance was dwindling by the second, the terror of the whole prospect threatened by the compulsion to just get back to it, have Galinda back in her senses and cooing all the way, only made her bristle more. Her own discipline was withering, what a betrayal.

“Please!” Galinda timed the cry with a desperate churn of her hips, though certainly not on purpose. It felt like she was going to wear through her underwear, and Elphaba could swear she felt the wetness seeping through on her thigh. She couldn’t help but undulate up into her in response. Now Galinda’s arm was thrown around her, clutching at her neck for balance while she - effectively - rode her. Elphaba burned under her. She wondered what she would regret more, letting Galinda touch her, or not doing it when she had the chance.

All right. She licked her lips in the first moment of genuine, uncomplicated relish all evening. “Okay. But take your clothes off too. Together,” she nudged her.

A second ago, nothing could have pried Galinda off her, but now she leapt off in a rush, scrambling out of her nightie and her underwear as she went.

Watching her do it made what remained of Elphaba’s hesitation dissipate, shoved out by the wicked heat that crawled through her chest when she saw Galinda, fully naked: the softness that hung about her hips and her thighs, the wisping curls of gold where they met, glinting with slickness.

Galinda pulled Elphaba’s nightgown out of the way once she had shrugged out of it, lust eyes roving over her for whatever was next.“Goodness. Is everything you own black?” She panted as she followed Elphaba’s underwear down her legs. Then she had her hands on Elphaba’s legs, holding them parted before she had a chance to close them.

She gasped lightly at what she saw. This was the part Elphaba had been concerned about. She let her head fall back, awaiting the inevitable, though she wasn’t even sure what that was.

To the irrepressible surprise of both Elphaba’s mind and body, Galinda sucked the tip of her finger, and brought it down to draw it tentatively over the slight length of Elphaba’s clit.

Suddenly Galinda giggled. “You really are one of a kind, aren’t you?” But then - as she touched Elphaba more insistently and she twitched against her finger, her voice darkened, just as quickly as it had softened the moment before. “I want to feel it against me,” she declared, voice hitching. “Elphie…” Her breath rose into a groan, as if the very thought was compelling her. “Come on, like before…” She tugged on Elphaba’s arm, nails digging into her wrist.

This time, it was Elphaba that pulled Galinda astride her, her legs not pressed tight but parted slightly so that they could feel each other’s core. Galinda shuddered almost theatrically when she came down on Elphaba’s clit. It was sort of silly, but that was not going to deter Elphaba right now.

Galinda held her face, throwing her a strange smirk as she bucked against her. “I didn’t know… That this is what you learnt magic for… No wonder - no wonder Madame Morrible is so reluctant to show me her tricks...”

“Oh, no,” Elphaba said. “Shut up, please.” And to make sure she did it, she kissed Galinda. A little squeal caught in her throat in surprise - Elphaba realised, belatedly, that they hadn’t actually kissed. But Galinda met her with abandon, moaning into her mouth.

Elphaba was not going to last long, especially not with the way that Galinda, as if remembering it after all this time, practically pounced on her breasts. “You’re quite -” She said, ragged. “Elphie, there’s something quite elegant about you, you know. I mean, goodness knows you - do your best to hide it - but -” She clenched her jaw and whimpered, and indeed, Elphaba felt a fresh flood on her thighs. “- You really aren’t so bad, in fact, you’re quite - good -”

She was delirious. Luckily, so was Elphaba. She kissed Galinda hungrily, thrusting her hips up as she did. It seemed to be just what Galinda needed, and Elphaba felt her tighten and come against her with a ridiculous, delicious moan. Unrelenting, Galinda slid against her with new fervour, and Elphaba followed her over the edge in a matter of moments.

Galinda was panting for a long while afterwards, slumped over her, exhausted. The spell was not kind to one’s body. The wave of regret that she had known would be returning ebbed into Elphaba’s consciousness, but then Galinda did something that kept it at bay.

Even through her sluggish state, she sniffed thoughtfully and kissed Elphaba’s forehead. The lingering hum against her skin told her it was deliberate, not just a mindless aftereffect. “You know, Elphie, I’m rather glad you bungled that spell. Wasn’t this fun?”

And then, Galinda fell asleep.

At some point, Elphaba crawled out from under her and tucked her in, going to sleep in her bed instead, but not before she kissed her goodnight back.

[frostythefelix]

You Suck! pt 3

Spooktober 13th 

warning: mentions of death, blood 

word count: 2176

----

Before Chan could take you out of the house again, he had to know with absolute certainty that you could control yourself. He had a good feeling in the pit of his stomach as he urged the partygoers to enter your home. He felt slightly guilty for the unsuspecting humans, but it was all for a good cause. At least that’s what he convinced himself. He didn’t know if it would be a success or a complete bloodbath, but he had to try. Upon entering the house, each person was compelled by Chan to enjoy themselves, to not be afraid. He carefully sliced them one by one, letting them run amuk in the house, bleeding from the shallow wounds.

You could smell the blood from your room, listening to the party being held down stairs. You knew what the objective was: don’t eat the guests. The thought of it seemed easy since you were doing so well with your training, but you couldn’t help the temptations. You were hungry and there was a seven course meal waiting for you in your living room. The familiar fire lit in your stomach, begging to be extinguished by human blood. But you stayed put on your bed, clutching a pillow to your chest with your eyes close. You could do this. You knew you could. Chan believed in you, therefore you had to believe in yourself. The party went on for five hours before the sun came up. You were sure he was going to end it there, but there was no such luck.

Nine hours in, you were hungry. You hadn’t eaten, but you were so afraid to descend from the stairs that you stayed couped up in your room. Eleven hours, twelve, the party was still going strong. Eating the people was not an option, you knew that. You needed a blood bag. The only problem with that was the space between you and your food. Chan kept the blood bags stored in a cooler off the kitchen, which meant you would have to make it passed the party to get to it. It was dangerous. What if you lost control on your way there? You shook your head, it’s not an option, you reminded yourself. So, with all the confidence you could muster, you lifted yourself from your bed, crossed the room, and made your way to the staircase.

Facing the group of people was one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do. Your plan was to ignore them, keeping your head down, and catapulting yourself through the house to the kitchen. But of course, nothing really ever works out in your favor, and you’re stuck, eyes clenched shut with a bloody female wrapped around your body. She seemed so happy to see you, obviously Chan’s doing, and as you tried to pry her off she only hugged you tighter. Breathing rapidly, your senses were out of control. I can do this, you thought, I can do this. With all of your strength, you pushed the girl away from you and booked it to the kitchen. Chan stood by the cooler, a teasing smile on his face.

“You’re really going for it this time, huh?” You asked him, voice strained. He laughed, his gaze finding his shoes before lifting back up to your face.

“I told you this would be brutal.” He said, handing you a blood bag. “But you’re doing great, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

“How are you so unfazed?” You whined, ripping the top of the bag open and sucking its contents down. Chan was amused, watching you chug the blood, and a chuckle escaped his lips at the sound of your satisfied sigh.

“I’m almost a thousand years old, babe.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized. You seemed unbothered by the pet name, the erratic beating of your heart being the only indication that you weren’t.

After a whole 48 hours of constant temptation, you felt like you had complete control of your cravings. You danced with Chan to the music the partygoers had been playing, having the time of your life. To reward you, and to test your self-control, the two of you fed on the guests together. The moment felt so sensual, so intimate. He held eye contact with you and somehow it helped you keep your composure. You were drunk of the blood and each other.

Of course, the fun had to come to an end at some point. You couldn’t feed on them forever, they had lives to get back to. But that didn’t mean the party would end. Chan was too proud of you to let this go without further celebration. Your first successful feist was a monumental moment! The two of you spent the rest of the night running through the woods, playing hide and seek, or racing each other. By the time the sun began to rise you were a tired, giggly mess on the living room floor.

It was moments like these that Chan was happiest. The sweet, happy times when neither of you had to worry about anything, focusing on each other. He was so unbelievably proud of you and all of the things you had accomplished in your time with him. It took him months to learn things you had down in weeks. You amazed him with everything you did. You giggled next to him, the sound infectious. As you giggled together, side by side, he felt himself again. The Chan he was, the Chan he strived to be again. You gave him a certain purpose, no longer feeling the desire to harm others in search of entertainment. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Chan twisted his head to look at you, his eyes meeting your cheerful ones. You didn’t know why you did it, or what compelled you, but you were closing the distance between yourselves quickly, rolling over to hover above him. His eyes were curious, a flame set ablaze with emotions you couldn’t read. You kissed him. Slowly, at first. He stilled, surprised by the action he never thought you would perform. Never once letting on that you shared his feelings, he had settled on accepting his fate of being just your hopeful friend for the rest of your lives. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers, though, and kissed you like his life depended on it. His hands held you in place, refusing to let you go.

You were still processing the situation as you laid on the couch with your head in Chan’s lap. He was aimlessly playing with your hair, his fingers lightly brushing your skin every once in a while. You talked about your childhoods and how different the time periods had been. He talked so highly of his family as he told you story after story.

“I used to get so mad at my brother,” he chuckled, “he would always copy me. I realize now that he just looked up to me, but at the time I was so mad.” As much as he laughed, reminiscing about his past wasn’t easy for him. That was a long time ago, more than several lifetimes passed before his eyes before now, but you knew he still felt the pain of missing his family. Silence filled the room as he played with your hair. There was no doubt in your mind that he was thinking about his human life at that moment.

“Chan?” you said softly, shuffling in his lap to get a better look at him. He hummed, gazing down at you with an expression you could only defer as serenity and adoration. “How were you turned?” You knew the question was risky, and by the way he tensed, smile slowly dropping from his lips, you knew the story wasn’t a good one. You immediately wanted to take back your question, muttering that he didn’t have to tell you and that you were just curious.

“A man came into town, one that nobody had seen before.” The start of the story rendered you speechless, full of anticipation. “He didn’t do much at first, just talked to some people. Said he was selling hide.” He laughed at the irony, shaking his head. “I don’t even remember his name.” Chan’s heart beat rapidly in his chest at the memory. You sat up, sitting criss cross in front of him, holding both his hands. “Nobody suspected a thing for the first few nights. He wasn’t really feeding on anyone, I guess. But the fourth night, we were all gathered around a fire. It was someone’s birthday, I think. Everything was normal one second. My sister was laughing, clutching her teddy bear and then all the sudden everyone was screaming. He killed them all. I remember my mom-” he paused, a sob welling up in his throat. Tears brimmed his eyes. He shut them, cursing. You rub your thumb across his hand, to remind him you were still here.

“My mom was bleeding so bad. He had completely destroyed her neck. She-she told me to run, to grab my siblings and run. So I did. I left her there and ran. We hid in our house, under my parents bed. I thought-I thought we were safe.” The tears were falling fast, his cheeks pink with sadness. You almost told him to stop. “He got to my siblings before me. He had been watching me since he got into town. I was his target the entire time.” His sadness shifted, anger in his eyes. “He killed everyone I loved just to add me to his stupid vampire family.”

Chan explained how he spent centuries with the man, doing his bidding until a stronger vampire killed him, setting Chan and all of the man’s minions free. He didn’t speak much about his time with them, but you didn’t pry. He was already so upset, you couldn’t make it worse. He apologized, wiping his tears. You smiled at him, lifting yourself to press a sweet kiss to his lips. He grinned, the only trace of his sorrow being his red, puffy eyes, grateful for the change in subject

“So, I’m guessing you like me back?” He asked, pulling you into his side. You giggled, getting comfortable.

“Yeah, kind of.” You joked, an ear splitting grin directed toward him.

“Now that you’ve proven you can control yourself,” He said, teasingly. “Let me take you to a restaurant.”

The following night, the two of you get ready for your date in your own rooms. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Your life felt so surreal. You were a vampire, going on a date with the vampire who turned you, and you were excited. A disbelieving giggle left your lips as you looked at your form in the mirror. You looked so happy. Jumping excitedly, you meet Chan down stairs, a nice pair of black slacks and a white button up making him look even more delectable than usual. His hair was styled, parting to show a bit of his forehead. You gulp at the sight of him.

The two of you get out of the Uber, Olive Garden standing before you. You can’t help but laugh at the smell of garlic wafting from the building.

“Really?” you asked, rolling your eyes. Your met with his heart-stopping smile. In that moment, you really didn’t think your life could get any better. He dragged you into the restaurant by your hand. Dinner was nice, normal. You would catch him staring every once in awhile, a blush dusting his cheeks every time. You had to physically stop yourself from cooing out loud. He was just too cute.

You made it through dinner easily, too distracted by your date to focus on the live blood bags surrounding you. He opened the door for you on your way out, instantly reaching for your hand. You couldn’t remember a time you were that happy, no past relationships could compare. Deciding to take a walk before heading home, he led you around the town. It was silent between you, but it was calm and comfortable. Chan stopped you at an ice cream place, insisting on getting one to share.

“This ice cream is almost as sweet as you.” He winked, a teasing smirk on his lips. You laughed, head tipping back. He wished he could take a picture of you at that moment, to freeze that moment so he could look at it forever. He was sure he was in love. In almost a thousand years, he’d been through hell and back, but he had no doubt the next millennia would be nothing but perfect with you by his side.

“You suck,” was your reply, although the smile on your face showed clearly you didn’t mean it. You thought back to all the times you’d said it to him in the past, meaning it with every bone in your body. Chuckling, you shook your head and continued strolling back home, hand in hand

prev | three | bonus

masterlist 

[astridxking]

“I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in, I'll never meet the ground. Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us. We're far from the shallow now.”

“Will you leave me, too?” Alice whispered, leaning back so the hybrid could see her tear stained face and trembling lower lip. “Everyone leaves me, they all- they all get uh- they are all needed more, by someone else and they leave me all alone. Why?”

MAIN CHARACTERS → Dean Winchester, Alice King.  MENTIONS → Dean Winchester, Adrian Rivera, Sam Winchester, Ben Breaden.  LOCATION → Mystic Falls TIME FRAME → 16th March, 2019 WARNINGS → death/grief/general depression/sadness NOTES → Astrid returns to Mystic Falls and explains to Alice that Dean won’t be around anymore.  TAGS → @ofbowlegs

Everything, after she walked out of the morgue, was a blur. The Detective was asking a lot of questions and though she was pale and nauseous she tried her best to answer them for him. “I have his belongings with me, ma’am, along with the paperwork I need you to sign.” He told her. “Me?” she muttered. “Yes, sorry, I’m assuming you're his next of kin?” He looked to her and she frowned. Of course, she could say no but then Sam would have to travel here, so she simply nodded and focused her eyes on his. “I’ve shown you all the documentation you need.” She compelled. “I want his body transferred to Mystic Falls, can you do that?” She asked and the Detective nodded. She recalled signing some paperwork, not entirely sure what for, did it matter? Really, she wanted to tell them all that they weren’t allowed to do an autopsy, the thought of him being cut open wasn’t something she felt like she could handle knowing. But she knew she didn’t have the right to call that off and truthfully, it was needed, to know what happened and if there was any foul play involved. Astrid travelled with the Detective to collect Dean’s car and she didn’t even care to think about her own at this point. She could always send some poor bastard to collect it for her. She needed to bring his baby home, it’s what he would be worried about if he was watching. 

The hybrid must have sat in the driver's seat for at least an hour, staring off into the distance. Thinking, not thinking, crying, not crying. How was she supposed to tell Sam? What about Ben? He still didn’t know that he was possibly Dean’s son. How could she tell Alice? Should she tell her? Astrid felt like there was this crippling weight now on her shoulders as well as in her heart. She couldn’t shake away the nausea that was travelling up from her stomach and drive back was long. She didn’t know how she made it home without crashing because could she heck remember anything about the travel. Stopping the car at the end of Adrian’s street, she was grateful for her brother having Alice a lot longer than planned but she didn’t want to answer any questions. Instead, she text him to send Alice out and stood a little distance away, giving him a wave as the little pup came leaping towards her. “Hey, baby. You been good for Uncle A?” She smiled, lifting her up into her arms and carrying her down the street. Even holding her helped her breathe just a little bit easier. 

“Dean!” Alice squealed when she saw his car. She scrambled out of the hybrids arms to run towards it and for the longest time, Astrid felt absolutely shell shocked. How could she be so stupid? She hadn’t even thought that the girl would assume he was inside. “No, Alice he- sorry, he’s not-” she shifted and moved closer. “No Dean, I’m using his car.” Astrid decided not to say anything more. She was still so incredibly torn between what she should do or say at this point. Alice had lost enough and she loved Dean so much, Astrid was afraid that telling her the truth would only undo all the progress she had made in these last few weeks. Alice told her all about her time with Adrian and Piper on the journey home and the hybrid offered her smiles and nods when needed but honestly, she wasn’t giving her chatter the attention it deserved. It was just too hard to focus. “Alright, it’s late so brush your teeth, get your pj’s on and jump into bed, okay?” She ruffled the girls hair and leaned down to kiss her forehead before she ran off to do as she was told. 

It wasn’t until three hours later, Astrid was still sat on her bedroom floor clutching one of Dean’s shirts and using it to try and muffle the sound of her own grief. She hadn’t slept in two days and yet she couldn’t bring herself to get into bed and attempt it. She felt like she was suffocating, she knew grief, knew it all too well, but this? This felt different somehow. It felt like a different kind of grief and of course, that’s because it was. She hadn’t ever grieved for someone she was in love with before. Did she deserve this pain? Why was it that in spite of trying to be a good person, she always fell short and lost everyone? Astrid had so many questions that would never be answered and it was crippling to know that she’d given her heart to someone who wouldn’t be around anymore to keep it safe. It almost felt like she’d been split in half; like her heart had shattered in her chest and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do at this point to piece it back together. She’d always refused to fall down, she kept going, kept fighting and kept trying but right now? As hard as she tried, the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down her face and she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn’t even noticed that Alice had waddled in, sleepy and holding onto the teddybear Dean had won her at the carnival. She placed it down and didn’t say anything while the hybrid tried to collect herself and wipe away her tears. “What are you doing out of bed?” Astrid asked, shying her face away from her so she wouldn’t see how raw her eyes were. “I wanted some water and I heard you crying...” She whispered, shifting a little nervously in front of her before reaching her hand out to touch Astrid’s face in an attempt to get the elder to look at her. “We should call Dean... He makes you laugh when you get sad.” She suggested, half because she thought it would solve it and half because she missed him, too. 

Astrid sucked in a breath and shook her head. “Come here, baby.” Holding her arms open, she pulled the lil pup into her hold before using her fingers to brush the hair from her face. “Remember when we talked about your family? And I told you that sometimes, the best kind of people are needed elsewhere and so, they have to leave us, to help the people who need them more?” Astrid tried to smile as Alice nodded. “Okay, well, Dean is one of those people and...” she paused, struggling to try and come up with the right words. Words that were truthful but gentle for the six-year-olds ears. “Last night, someone really needed him. They needed him so much and... And he had to go. He had to go and help them.” She could literally feel the girl freeze and watched as her eyes went wide and filled with tears. She understood death, it didn’t matter how much sugarcoating went into that explanation, ultimately, Alice knew exactly what Astrid was telling her. “Dean’s gone? He- he’s gone, like my family?” She leaned back and her breathing started growing short. Her family weren’t coming back and that meant neither was he. “But- but... I need him,” she whispered shaking her head as her eyes welled up with tears. “I need him more!” She squeaked, clutching her chest as she couldn’t quite catch her own breath. Astrid shushed her, tried her best to get the girl to stay calm whilst forcing back her own tears. 

“I know. I know. Shh. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Astrid shook her head. Alice broke down, her tears ran like a waterfall and her head was shaking fiercely. “No! Tell him,- t-tell him he has to come back!” She couldn’t breathe, she pushed and shoved Astrid to try and get out of her hold but Astrid only pulled her closer, wrapping her tightly in her arms. Alice relented, her body slouched against her chest and she sobbed. “I’m sorry. He would never leave you if he had the choice.” Astrid whispered as she swallowed down the lump in her throat and pressed her chin against the top of the pups head. She cradled her for nearly an hour whilst she broke her heart, and, Astrid’s along with it. Though she finally managed to calm down enough so that she was only sniffling. “Will you leave me, too?” Alice whispered, leaning back so the hybrid could see her tear stained face and trembling lower lip. “Everyone leaves me, they all- they all get uh- they are all needed more, by someone else and they leave me all alone. Why?” Her little face twisted up and more tears fell as her pleading eyes focused on Astrid’s. “I’ll never leave you. Okay? Never. I promise.” Astrid nodded. She felt the tears slip from her eyes, unable to stop them before Alice saw. 

“We’re going to get through this. Dean wouldn’t want us to be sad, would he? He would want us to be happy and stick together... I’ll always be with you, okay? I won’t go anywhere without you.” Astrid smiled, choking slightly on her own words. Alice was still sobbing, but she was breathing a lot better - Astrid wished that was a relief but in reality, she knew it was only because the pup had absolutely exhausted herself. “But it’s ok to be sad for a while, Alice. We can be sad as long as we keep trying to be something more than that.” Smiling, she closed her eyes when Alice lifted her little hands to her cheeks and brushed away the tears. “Okay.” She whispered, still blubbering. She was pleased Astrid said that because she was indeed, incredibly hurt and sad. Dean saved her, she didn’t understand why she couldn’t save him. “Astrid?” She murmured, prompting the elder to open her eyes. “You uh- you are my family now, too. And.. and Dean, Dean is my family e-even though he is somewhere else now.” Alice nodded, whimpering under her breath and pulling herself closer to Astrid, who could only choke and offer her a silent nod. “I think I-I.. uh, can I- I um... I know my mommy is gone but- do you... Are you my new mommy?” She wondered. 

Astrid sighed quietly and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “I could never replace your mommy, Alice. Never. But I will take care of you like I am your mommy.” She explained, hoping it made sense. Alice nodded through her tired eyes, she was already half asleep. Astrid carefully lifted her up and climbed into bed, covering them both under the duvet and holding Alice close against her chest. “I know.” Alice whispered through a hiccup and a yawn as she nuzzled her face into the hybrid's chest. “But I want to call you my mommy. If that’s okay.” She added, making Astrid’s eyes spring open. She was silent for a little bit before she gave her a light squeeze. “Is that what you want?” She replied, slightly stunned but mainly, it warmed her heart. “Yeah,” Alice murmured, falling asleep only seconds later. Astrid was biting on her own lip to force down the tears that still threatened to fall from her eyes. Turning her head to the side of the bed Dean had pretty much claimed as his own, she succumbed to her own exhaustion and closed her eyes to sleep. Tomorrow would be a gruelling day, she still had no idea how she was going to break the news to his brother and Gen. Ben too. 

[remyhudson]

Help|| Remy/Jocelyn/Nora

Date: Sunday, Oct 6th Location: Remy’s Room Characters: Jocelyn ( @jocierosesterls ), Nora ( @noraxhummel ), Remy ( @remyhudson ) Summary: Remy finally gets the help she deserves from people who love her. Note: Partial Chatzy because my dumbass forgot to save as we went along

Remy internally started to panic at the talk of painkillers. There was no way she was taking anything. She couldn’t do it. Not again. She wouldn’t hurt anyone. She wouldn’t become her father. Her body shaking as she pulled her legs up, curling into herself as Jocelyn came back, wiping her face. “No...nothing...please.” She whimpered, eyes filling with tears, not being able to control them or any other emotion at the moment. “I can’t...” she breathed, taking the blonde’s hand in her own and pulling it to her chest, holding it with shaky fingers, eyes shut with tears falling freely.

Jocie opened her mouth to respond to Nora, but then Remy was crying and clutching at her hand. Jocelyn felt her own eyes fill with tears, the exhaustion making it harder to school her emotions. She glanced at Nora, then back to Remy, gently wiping her cheeks with the cool cloth. "it's okay, beautiful. Shh. You're hurting and they'll help, okay? It's nothing bad," she whispered. "She... we need to get her taken care of first, Miss, I'll be okay," Jocelyn insisted.

Nora hated seeing her sister like this. She'd never tell her that though; she didn't want to give Remy any reason to feel like she had to run away again so she would do what she'd always done. She'd be there and she'd support her. 'Painkillers won't make you the way you were before Rem.' she pointed out softly. 'You need to take something because I can only imagine how much you must be hurting.' She squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. 'I'm going to go make you some toast. Just one slice, nothing on it. Hopefully that will be easy on your stomach.' she explained. 'You stay here and try to relax with Jocelyn. You're happy to sit with her aren't you honey?' she added, turning to the blonde. She could only take her word for it that she was fit and able to do so.

Remy shook her head, pulling the blonde’s hand against her chest more. “They all will. She said..I—no...I won’t” she pleaded with Nora, with Jocelyn. Anyone that would listen. She couldn’t take them. None of them. Remy was thankful when her sister exited the room. Yes, somewhere in her blurred and spiraling brain she was happy her sister was with them now, at the school. But right now she just wanted to hold the blonde, hold onto something precious.

Remy breathed out, turning to face the blonde, red puffy eyes, examining the girl. “You’re okay?” She asked weakly, lip trembling as one hand came up to stroke her cheek.

Jocie sucked in a slow breath to try and keep herself under control. Remy didn't need to see her crying. She had enough to deal with, to go through without feeling bad for making Jocelyn cry. She looked to Nora and nodded. "I'll stay with her." Always, she said silently, her heart aching. Jocelyn shifted to lay beside Remy, moving so the brunette could rest her head on her chest. "I'm okay," she promised, catching her hand and bringing it over to kiss her palm. "Who... who said something about you taking pills, baby?" she asked after a moment, hoping the question wouldn't upset her too much but she needed to know. Remy needed something to ease her pain.

Remy closed her eyes for a moment, paying attention only to the kiss against her hand. That was all she needed, just the girl beside her. No meds, nothing. Just her. She opened her eyes, blue eyes watery with shed and unshed tears. She’s keep Asking Jocelyn just to make sure. “I...I tried to explain. I wanted to be honest. She said I sounded like an addict. I’m not. I can’t...” she breathed, feeling the familiar panic coarse through her veins again. “Baby...my dad was an addict. I barely remember him. We thought he was...some sort of...hero...but he wasn’t he was an addict and I can’t...I won’t be like him” Remy shook her head, new tears running down her face. “I don’t ever want to hurt you again...” she whispered, pulling the blonde’s hand up to her own chapped lips, kissing it before holding it close to her chest again.

Jocie. frowned, anger coursing through her. Who would say something like that to anyone? Jocelyn set the cloth aside and slipped her fingers through Remy’s hair again, trying to soothe her. “You’re not an addict. You’re absolutely not an addict, love. You weren’t hurting anyone. And you won’t hurt me again. You’re not like him, beautiful. I promise you’re not,” she whispered, clutching Remy’s hand in her own.

Nora was returning with the toast when she heard to tail end of the conversation. Remy wasn't an addict. At least, she didn't think she was. She knew about the drugs; Carol had confided in her as much of the ins and outs of Remy's return as her Dad had allowed but she didn't mention anything about addiction. Now wasn't the time to ask those questions though and so she filed the information in the back of her mind, and made her presence in the room known again. 'I think toast is just what the doctor ordered. I know you've been sick, and I know you might not feel like eating but I need you to try Remy. If you can keep this down, you can take painkillers and hopefully you'll be able to fall asleep.' She sat herself on the bed next to her sister, and offered her a square of the toast she'd cut into quarters.

Remy shook her head, unable to really believe Jocelyn’s words. She knew about her medication, she knew about the weed. Jocelyn knew about her illnesses and the fact that she’d been taking these drugs for a long time. In Remy’s brain, she needed them. To function. Which meant, she was an addict. Like her father. It all made sense in her brain. “Nora...n-no. No meds.” She shook her head but tried to sit up to take a bite of toast. She hoped it would settle her stomach. Truthfully, she knew it probably wouldn’t. She had googled what would happen if she stopped her meds cold turkey. She knew what this was, but she wouldn’t freely admit it.

Jocie. sighed and settled next to Remy, letting the brunette lean against her. “They’re Not habit forming, beautiful. A couple of aspirin don’t make you an addict,” she whispered into her ear. “Please take some? For me?” Jocelyn didn’t know if Remy would respond to the plea, but she had to try.

Remy ‘s lips trembled as she looked at the blonde. “Baby...I-I’m scared. I don’t want to do anything...no medication, no weed...nothing anymore...I can’t be him” She trembled, her body shaking more than it was before-a mixture of panic and pain. “Shit..” she doubled over in pain as her stomach lurched again, the bite of toast threatening to come up already.

Nora didn't understand what was making Remy so sick but as soon as she doubled over, she was moving the basin onto the bed. 'You're fine Remy.' she soothed, rubbing her hand down her back. 'Just try to take nice deep breaths.' Jocelyn obviously cared about her sister; and she hoped Remy felt enough care for the blonde that she would consider taking the pills for her. It was a short-term fix to a deeper rooted problem but it would work for now. 'Honey, I have some anti-nausea pills. They're not addictive or anything. They'll be easy on your stomach; I've used them a lot. These will help you keep food down.' She knew the medication was fine; it had always soothed her stomach. She fished the pills out of her pocket, and popped one out of the foil. 'Please honey. Jocelyn and I are both so worried about you.'

Jocie. swallowed hard and stayed next to Remy even as she heaved, holding her up. “You’ll be okay, beautiful. Just try it, okay? It won’t hurt you. And if you don’t want to take another one, you don’t have to. But they’re going to help you, I promise. Me and Nora both promise,” she whispered to Remy, nuzzling against her temple to try and coax her.

Remy didn’t want to take the pills, her brain so wrapped around not becoming her father that all pills threw a red flag. She heaved, shaking and beginning to sweat as another wave of nausea hit. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t. “Oh, god” tears looked at the corners of her eyes, flowing silently down her paled cheeks. She clutched onto the blonde next to her for a moment, trying to keep the nausea at bay until it passed. Breathing heavy, focusing on the in and out until she felt she could move without the potential for throwing up. “Okay...okay...” she shook her head, feeling defeated but knowing full well she couldn’t go on like this. She held a shaking hand out to her sister, accepting the pill. Shaky hand tentatively placing it in her mouth and sipping water to push it down. Her mind racing-one part screaming at her for giving up so easily, calling her an addict, but the other side telling her she needed it, needed to be okay. “I’m sorry...” she cried, both to Nora and to Jocelyn.

Nora decided it didn't matter that Jocelyn had her arms wrapped around Remy; she was compelled to do the same. 'Good girl Remy.' She said the words without thinking too much about them. They seemed natural; Remy had done what she asked and so she was a good girl. She held her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 'You have nothing to be sorry for. We both care about you and we just want you to get better.' she soothed, rubbing her hand down her back. 'Let that settle in your stomach for a few minutes and then try some more toast. If you can keep that down, we can try the painkillers.'

Jocie. kissed the side of Remy’s head when she took the pill, keeping her free hand clutched in her own. She noticed Nora touching the other girl’s back and quickly reached to take the Domme’s hand. “Her back is... hurt, Miss,” she said softly, not wanting to draw attention to the lashes still healing on Remy’s pale skin. “Maybe we can just lay together for a little while? You, me and Miss Nora? I’ll sing for both of you, if you want,” she offered.

Remy flinched, a razor-like feeling shooting through her back as Nora hugged her. She wouldn't say anything though, it wasn't her fault, she didn't know. Tears still streamed down her face, breathing heavy and erratic as she tried to speak. "No...please...no pain killers." She shook her head, ice blue eyes finally opening to look toward the girl's on either side of her. She held Jocelyn's hand tight in her own shaking grasp. "No...I'm sorry...I...I flushed mine. All of them. I couldn't do it. I can't. I'm scared...oh god Im so scared I'm gonna be like him..." She shook her head a little more violently now, a sob escaping her raw throat. She was having an inner battle inside her brain, she didn't want the medications she was on, but her body also was feeling the severe effects of suddenly stopping them and she honestly didn't know how long she could stay like this.

Nora pulled back immediately at the blonde's whispered words. Her back too. She could almost feel her own body ache in sympathy for her sister. She listened, eyes widening and brow furrowing with a frown as she began to understand what Remy had done, why she was feeling the way she was. 'Remy Hudson.' she said firmly, giving her hand a squeeze. 'How could you be so silly? You need that medication. You're not taking it for fun; and it's carefully controlled. You're not going to be an addict. You just won't. You have too many people around you who love you, who will support you so that won't ever happen.' she soothed. Her distress for the dark haired girl was evident in her voice. 'Now I will not let you continue like this. Can't you see how much harm you're doing yourself? Can't you see how worried you're making the people who love you? If you won't take it for yourself, take it for us.'

Jocie felt her heart shatter in her chest again as Remy so desperately tried to fight off the notion of pills. God, whoever said that to her... Jocelyn didn't know if she'd ever been so angry at someone as she was at whoever told Remy she sounded like an addict. Thankfully Nora verbalized everything in a much better way than she ever could have. "She's right, beautiful. Those are meant to help you. They're prescribed and controlled - they're not for you to get high off of just for fun. You're not going to be like him. I won't let you. Miss Nora won't let you," she whispered into Remy's ear. "You're hurting yourself more by not taking them... please, Remy..."

Remy cringed at Nora's tone, holding her breath as she listened to her sisters upset speak about the medication. She knew now it probably wasn't a great idea, although her head was still battling about an addiction. But this hurt too much to continue not taking them. Her brain was too wound up and eventually she'd break, start being completely awful to people or to herself. She knew she needed them. "I'm sorry..." She cried, knowing she had no fight left in her. "Nora...can you call Mom and Burt? Maybe...maybe they can bring the prescriptions up with them?" She turned her attention to the blonde now, red and watery eyes. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." She whimpered, her head falling to the blonde's chest as tears continued to fall. "I'll be better...I will." She promised, to the both of them.

Nora reached out to brush her fingers through her sister's hair. 'It's okay Remy. It's going to be okay. I know you're sorry.' She couldn't truly understand how Remy's brain worked; all the research in the world wouldn't allow her to completely understand her no matter how much she tried. 'You're a good girl Rem and we're all here to help you. I'll call them now and don't worry about that okay? I'll explain things to them; I'll make sure they know I'm going to support you. And I'll do what I can to make them not worry too much.' she promised. She looked across and made eye contact with Jocelyn. 'Can you try to make sure she eats the toast? I'm going to call our parents. If she eats that, she can take the painkillers and hopefully she'll manage to get some sleep.'

Jocie. cupped her hand around the back of Remy’s Head, holding her close as she cried. “It’s okay, beautiful. Shh. We’ve got you,” she whispered. She looked up at Nora and nodded, shifting so that more of Remy’s weight was against her chest. “I’ll do my best. She’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.” The last words were more directed to Remy, a declaration and a comfort in one.

Remy cried fitfully against Jocelyn’s chest, the weight of the last few days, the mental and physical pain, everything coming out in the form of choking sobs. She carried for who knows how long, shaking and sniffling while clutching the blonde she cared so much about. She was here. She wasn’t leaving. Nora was here, she wasn’t leaving. They weren’t leaving. This time people weren’t leaving. Okay...it would be okay. She could do this. She tried to tell herself, sniffling back tears and snot as she calmed against the blonde’s comforting touch. Remy was thankful that Nora would take the call to her parents, not ready to talk or face them yet. Instead she laid against the blonde, listening to her heartbeat as she calmed in her arms.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Divide- chapter 5- How Would You Feel

The minute she hit the send button she wished she could take it back. But, just like Harry’s Instagram like, somethings you simply couldn’t.

Like telling Harry she loved him on their last weekend together.

It wasn’t the first time she felt it. She’s been swallowing the words like a jagged little pill for months. She’d embraced the feeling when they were in Barcelona, she was a woman in love, so she wore it like a mantle. Everything about the experience felt magical, but, when she returned to her real life and Harry to tour, things continued just as they had since she let Harry kiss her the first time after months of obvious innuendo. The boy was cheeky and flirty on a good day, but irresistible when he was trying. And so she didn’t resist, but had she guarded her heart a little maybe it wouldn’t be broken. Or so slow to mend.

When their lips met she learned all of those cliches about electricity and sparks and stars getting in your eyes were true. Her stomach and the bottom dropped out. When his large decorated hands had cupped her face she never wanted to stop and when he’d clutched her throat, the rush of blood to her core meant she wouldn’t.

Laurel wasn’t a virgin, but her experience had been limited. Limitless better described how she felt when Harry touched her. She probably fell that first night.

The ground was hard when she hit it and she was sure she’d bruised her ass when Harry gave her his rules of engagement. ‘Harry’s rules’ as they became emblazoned in her mind were simple. When it was convenient and easy they would hang out, he didn’t expect her to be faithful, but if she had a partner between their trysts, they’d use a condom until she got tested again, if she met someone, the arrangement ended. Same rules for him. Laurel was surprised every time he didn’t open the little drawer by his bed when they reunited. She’d had one other partner since beginning with him and the very attractive hipster of a boy did such an amazing job of illustrating what she was not missing, she never bothered again.

When they were available they fit like a zipper, and it was so good to be embedded with him that Laurel could overlook his cavalier attitude. It was always after he left, again, that she’d remember that while he seemed to truly like her, he didn’t know her. Basic facts escaped him, she wasn’t sure Harry even knew her middle name. He certainly didn’t know anything about her family. That her sister had died when she was 11 in a car accident. Or that her parents were in love with one another, but divorced.

Despite this, she knew her feelings for him were unlikely to fade quickly. He was inescapable. Even when she tried to ignore his stupid face, his dimples showed up on her screen. Laurel wasn’t even sure she wanted to erase the way she felt. Being with Harry felt like zip lining, heart pumping, exhilarating, free.

The first time she had to physically stop her mouth to halt her confession had been a few months into their arrangement. They were sitting in a parked car outside Harry’s marketing manager’s country estate. He’d been avoiding going in. It was an expected band function. Someone with connections had a daughter with a major 1D jones. They hadn’t done many of these private events since the early days, but the favor that Simon would have in his pocket after today was apparently too good too miss. So, they were summoned with the promise of a handsome reward. Though the boys had more autonomy these days, Harry and crew still knew where their bread was buttered.

“I’d so much rather be spending this day, well, anywhere but here really, especially if you were there!” He cheesed her way and bopped her nose and was generally being so obnoxious she laughed in his face.

“You laughing at me?” He asked as he pulled her across his center console into his lap and tickled her until she was screaming and snorting in the ugliest fashion she could imagine. She hated her braying laugh.

He stopped abruptly when the snorting started. Once she caught her breath, Laurel wiped at her nose, “oh god, did I snot too?”

“No, that laugh just might be my favorite sound.”

The late afternoon sunlight made the blue rim of his iris shine and she felt the words she’d been denying bubbling up her throat. To stop herself, she covered her mouth and made big eyes at him before she kissed him and made a joke. “You know what my favorite sound is?” Mischief played in her eyes.

“My laugh, the ding of a text message you’ve been expecting from me, hearing me on radio, my morning voice?” Harry knew he was being an ass and was loving it.

“The sound of your snores when you finally shut up at night,” she feigned relief.

“I don’t snore!” Harry vehemently denied.

“Oh, you do, loudly! But, it’s still preferable to your other sounds, especially what you call singing!” Oh, she loved his offended face. “Kidding, baby, kidding,” and she kissed him once again before cracking his door open.

“Hey, where you going?” He made grabby hands for her.

“I’m going inside, and look, I’m not even getting paid to!” She teased.

Once inside, she kept her distance and her hands to herself. Everyone knew they were friends, but Harry had a lot of friends.

The second time Laurel nearly shouted out her feelings, Harry’d agreed to come to a house party with her and she couldn’t believe it. Their “dates” nearly always took place between his four walls, usually between his two sheets, so when she asked about the party, it was mostly to confirm her suspicions about her place in his life and heart. But he said yes and they planned out their couples costume with giddy giggles. It was really easy to procure his Kermit costume online and she really only needed a pig nose and wig. She had a dress from her mom’s youth that was at least 4 ruffles over the top.

The costume allowed Harry anonymity and she knew he loved fancy dress a bit more than the average person. She was fairly certain it was why he’d agreed. The inside joke was too fun to pass up. Laurel had given Harry the moniker of Kermie one morning when he’d croaked out a greeting, his eyes had been glued shut with sleep and his dimples widened his puffy sleepy face.

“Oh my God! You really do look like a frog,” she hiccuped out after laughing for 3 minutes straight.

Harry had turned into the bed sheets and pouted like the younger sibling he very much was, until she had given him an “I’m sorry” blowie and promised him pancakes. However, the nickname had stuck, much to Harry’s displeasure.

Laurel was so chuffed that he’d come out, she didn’t notice his slow withdrawal. Late that night, after many drinks he’d asked her to follow him up to the roof.

“Harry, baby, what’s wrong?” She asked as he immediately pulled off his mask and sucked in a breath.

“Haven’t been able to breathe properly in at least an hour. It’s hot in there. Whew.” He blew out a big breath and she watched his chest expand as he sucked one in.

“Why are we up here then, we can go. I just need to find my purse,” she fidgeted and turned back to the door.

“No, just let me cool off. I know we are trying to avoid detection, and we never get to go anywhere together. I like seeing you with your friends,” he touched her bottom lip and smoothed his thumb her growing smile. “They’re funny. I like them. Tom’s got it bad for you by the way.”

“You jealous?” Laurel laughed, how ludicrous.

“No, maybe a little, he’s a bit handsy. I don’t really like it.”

“Harry…” she trailed off.

“I know, I have no right,” he interrupted her search for words.

“You have no right, but you also have nothing to worry about,” Laurel returned.

“Yeah, why’s that?”

She wanted to say, 'because I love you, you idiot’. But, instead she made a joke. “I’ve seen him eat, trust me, the thought of spending 50 years watching that across a table put me right off,” then she grinned at him, “he goes tongue first and I’m not interested in teaching another baby bird how to kiss.”

Harry rose to her bait and gave her his offended face, “I’ll show you how to kiss,” he advanced on her while she ran away giggling. He caught her easily they wound up making love on the roof with all their clothes on because of the chill. To ward off the cold they kept their arms wrapped around each other and watched their breath until the sunrise replaced the moon. After sunrise, they snuck out undetected through the passed out revelers.

But for all the times she felt compelled to confess her feelings, when she felt like a girlfriend and not just a fuck, there were many more times she was sure she was just an option.

He’d go months at a time without a text. They could have plans for sometime in advance and he’d change them on a dime. Laurel would like to think it was for work things, but he was too public a person for her to labor under that delusion sometimes.

But, the most telling thing was how one-sided their arrangement was. Harry called the shots, always his terms, always his place, always his convenience. Laurel was his beck and call girl, his favorite perhaps, but not his only.

That last weekend, Laurel’d been emotional before she got there. Her mother was sick and he’d been away for what felt like forever. She felt funny, like her body wasn’t her own. Tired and weepy.

They had a good time, but he hadn’t noticed her red eyes or sallow skin. When he was inside her early Sunday morning, he’d been sweet and gentle, full of praise. It felt so much like love making and her walls against him were so gossamer that she’d let the words slip out when she came undone.

“I love you,” she’d whispered on a quiet harsh exhalation.

Laurel had seen his eyes widen, but he’d just buried his face in her neck and pushed into her deeper. Though their bodies remained connected, her heart broke. She’d held her tears until he’d fallen asleep and left while he showered.

She couldn’t do this anymore, the reasons kept piling up. Laurel had cried herself out and wanted to bash his face in when he sent her that Kermit gif.

She needed to move on, she couldn’t be spending her life falling deeper in love with him if he couldn’t tell her that he loved her too. If he didn’t love her too.

But here she was, texting him at 2 am while Willy, who took her out, showed her off, and asked her questions about herself like he needed to take notes, slept in her bed. Laurel was not an option to Willy.

Laurel could see that he’d read her message and her heart raced when the gray bubble appeared.

Why did he have to be the one.

AN- unbeta’d and under the wire. Forgive the mistakes for now