#like my last doctor sucked for a lot of reasons but he was SO convinced my pain was muscular

[lastoneout]

So I've noticed recently an issue I tend to have with a lot of pain clinics and doctors in general is that I tend to have appointments early in the day when my pain isn't as bad as it usually is by the end of the day, and so I'll be like "yeah I have pain in my back and knees" and so they'll have me move around my back and knees to see what hurts, but since my pain isn't bad yet those movements don't hurt, so then they think I don't have pain or at least they don't believe my pain is as bad as I say it is. (Which extra sucks bcs typically those movements do hurt...AFTER the appointment. Which isn't helpful.)

So I've decided for my next intake I am going to schedule it as late in the day as I can and then spend the time before it doing anything I can think of to purposefully make my pain as bad as possible so I'm like, actually in believable ammounts of pain when I go in.

Should I have to do that? No! Is that bad bcs EDS is a degenerative disease and so doing things that hurt on purpose is really bad for me? Yep! Am I going to have to do it just to get these clowns to take me seriously? Absolutely 🙃

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

started my period last night and today even talking is exhausting so i was thinking about what bucky would be like with reader on their period who’s suffering from fatigue/exhaustion :)

Hi @brnesblogposts! I'm still half under the assumption that you might have sent this to me by accident, because I haven't had anyone talking to me in months! LOL. Anyway, I hope your period is over soon! And I hope you enjoy this little bit of what my brain came up with!

How many trips could you possibly make to the bathroom in one evening? you thought as you hobbled back to the couch. The cramping pain in your lower abdomen was unrelenting and you were exhausted.

Since the age of fifteen, you had suffered from debilitating period pains just before and as your period started. It usually meant missing a day of school and now work. You’d beseeched your doctor for a cure, but nothing seemed to abate the anger your uterus seemed to have. The pill. It had helped a little.

Flopping down on the sofa, you pulled your knees up towards you and groaned into the nearest cushion.

“Doll?” Bucky’s concerned voice floated across the living room.

You had just moved in with your boyfriend. He had never seen you like this before because you had always hidden away on days like these. Now you regretted keeping this from him as you were in no mood to explain the issue to him.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he rushed over and sat down beside you on the couch. Bucky’s eyes were wide with fear. “Are you sick? Do we need to go to the hospital?” he asked, a little frantically.

You couldn’t help but snort into the cushion. He was a real worrier sometimes.

“I’m fine, it’s fine, I’ll be just fine,” your muffled voice tried to convince him of the fact, even though you didn’t feel it.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Trust me, period pain is not a reason to visit the emergency room.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

You looked up dismally, into Bucky’s weary face.

“No.” You didn’t want to add any more tension into his already stressful day.

“Have you taken any ibuprofen?”

You shook your head.

“Can I get you some?”

“Please,” you nodded.

As Bucky wandered into the kitchen, a sharp stab told you that you needed to take another trip to the toilet.

This was just too exhausting but you didn’t want Bucky to see you cry but when you went back to the living room, you couldn’t stop tears rolling down your face.

Not because of the pain, but because you had the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. Bucky had piled the coffee table with several forms of pain killers, a steaming mug of tea, a variety of cakes and a hot water bottle.

“Oh Buck,” you whispered.

He smiled and beckoned you back to the sofa. As you settle yourself into a comfortable position, Bucky covered you with a blanket and handed you some pills, along with your favorite fruity tea. Gently he placed the hot water bottle onto your tender abdomen and pulled your bare feet into his lap. You moaned quietly as Bucky massaged your feet with his deft fingers.

All of his comforting measures were starting to take effect and you found yourself nodding off. You jerked awake, almost kicking Bucky in the face in the process.

“Woah, it’s alright, you’re fine. Just go to sleep.” He stroked your legs gently.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

“Not unless you want there to be a huge patch of blood on the sofa when I wake up.”

Bucky scrunched up his nose.

“Exactly!”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to -”

“No, you were right with the ick face.”

“Doll, you were in a lot of pain earlier.”

“Yeah, it sucks.”

“Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”

“I did, I’ve tried everything. I just have to suffer it seems.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Just gotta ride it out once a month!”

“I could -” Bucky tried to search for the right words.

“Be here with me?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

[mightbeorphanedidk]

rdr2 yap session please forgive me

(HAPPY NEW YEARS BTW!)

I needed to tell this to somebody; Whenever I play games for the first time I tend to stay off of social media until I finish the game to avoid spoilers. It's a solid rule I have that FULL IMMERSION must be set whenever I go through a first playthrough, so none of my own music while playing, no talking about the game to people who could potentially give me spoilers (although if the game is really good i might just..), no searching up ANYTHING, no fanart, no fanfic, no NOTHING.

(spoilers for rdr2 below)

When i was playing rdr2 for the first time, I was on like... chapter 3 somewhere when I was REALLY tempted to go on ao3. I think it was after Blessed Are The Peacemakers (The mission where Arthur gets taken by colm), because I really did love that whole troupe of "Character is so useful that when they get taken by enemies instead of death they're offered a position", and I wanted to see if anyone shared my obsession love for it.

Mind you at this time I DID notice that Arthur looked really off. Like he looked a lot more tired and his eyes were bloodshot in cutscenes, I did notice it. I thought it was because I absolutely SUCKED at taking care of him by forgetting to feed him and let him sleep, so this was my punishment for neglecting him.

"One look" I said. "I'll go on ao3, make my tags SUPER SPECIFIC so i avoid anything spoiling the game, and IMMEDIATELY make my way out after checking 'read later' on any fic that interests me"

I go on ao3... I go to the search page... Curiosity strikes me about what the public think of Arthur and Dutch (NOT BECAUSE I SHIPPED THEM, but because it was pretty obvious they had a father/son relationship and I wanted to know if this was a Hank/Connor situation where people just ignore that), so I search up that specific ship expecting to see darker stuff

The first fic is Amras' Moonshine, Milk, Coffee Liqueur. I look at the tags...

"ARTHUR MORGAN HAS TUBERCULOSIS"

Hence the story of how I was spoiled that arthur morgan had tuberculosis...Are you kidding me.... Are you serious...

I still read it anyways it was really good

Afterwards I had the absolute GALLLL to convince myself it was just some really popular headcanon. I read it, clicked off, and then was like "welp! anyways.. That probably was the fandom's explanation of why their arthurs always look so off like mine. weird plothole but whatever no game is perfect" But deep in my heart I always knew i spoiled myself via an ao3 smut fic

Later on when ur in the doctor's office and getting diagnosed (atp i was SO SURE I had actually spoiled myself...), i was actually so disappointed in myself no joke. Like, i didn't stumble into a comment on social media or some sort of youtube video or nothing. I SPOILED MYSELF ON AO3

Deeply ashamed.... Kinda funny story though definitely the funniest spoiler I've ever gotten

I remember being SOOO mad dude. I didn't even clock WHO i got tb from (I had to search it up after Arthur says he got it from a man he beat to death cus he did that to a LOT of people..) I just knew I had TB and at the time I thought it would be the STUPIDEST way to die. I remember ranting to (unwilling) friends about it

(cue me saying "i heard someone say it i thought it was a joke" to disguise how i actually got spoiled...")

In my head, my whole rant was "Well if he has a disease that can't be cured, there's no point in upgrading or trying to do anything because we know we're going to die anyways" And i proceeded to play through the last 2 chapters with that mindset. like DAMN even when you're helping the natives and them I was like "its okay we'll get a cure soon... just have to wait..."

Little did I know that the inevitability of death and the idea that no matter what arthur did, everything would still turn out poorly was the WHOLE IDEA....

Man this game

I think the reason it hit me SO HARD is cus this is the first game I've ever played where I have had NO CLUE what it was about. Went in COMPLETELY blind. Like I watched the beginning of DBH until like.. Markus coming out of the junkyard, and I watched TLOU2 until Joel's death. Still have no clue how I ran into TLOU1. With RDR2 I had NO IDEA what the plot was

I remember seeing like a few clips of drunk arthur approaching people and thinking the game was this: Cowboy's gang dies in brutal shootout and he's the only one to survive. He tries to blend into society but being an outlaw his whole life he doesn't know how to, so now the game is about trying to get your honour up and prove you aren't as big and bad as you seem.

In Colter at first I was ALWAYS expecting to come back to the town and see everyone dead. Little did I know.... by like 2 chapters in I'd wanted everyone to live....

Also irrelevant sidenote but I lowk thought that there was no first game since NO ONE talked about it. I thought that RDR2 was just named with a two cus it was cooler. Idk leave me alone

I'm looking to play it soon! It's on my birthday wishlist as well as several other games I'm looking to play.

Anyways thats all from me

okay bye

[the-frankenmost]

Alright so, I don’t talk about my canon openly very much, but I think there’s at least two people who want to hear about here so I’m just gonna ramble.

I don’t remember a lot before Gloomsvile so we’re not getting much of a “backstory” here :/ sorry. I do remember that it was only Mom though. I was a total momma’s boy. Len was very obviously the favorite though. I don’t really want to get into that here. I had (and still have) ADHD and Autism. Can’t comment on Len too much because memory is still very fragmented, but he definitely was not neurotypical. I was a very sensitive little guy while Len was the more rough and tough boy. Mom would call me a cry baby a lot. Len and I were twins, we weren’t born conjoined. I don’t remember how we died which is probably a good thing. Len loved creepy crawlies, I did not. He’d play with worms and I’d just be there freaking out. Still really don’t like the squirmy type.

Came to Gloomsville in search of more and stayed because, Ruby, duh. R.I.P Actually hit it off In Gloomsville and the neighboring towns. I remember the first time we made it into the paper, Ruby threw a big party and Len and I ate too much and got sick lol.

One time Skullboy thought he was related to a long line of Rock Stars and tried to get us to let him join the band. I’m named Frank for a reason (jk). Shut that shit down quick. Dude sucks at music. I think Iris AND Misery had had crushes on us for a while but that was extremely short lived. I don’t think anyone in that house was straight

(-Poe & Skull Boy) but I was probably the last one to come out for reasons we’ll get to later.

This is where the memories get more frequent and also a bit more sensitive. Read ahead at your own risk please.

Len and I had a medical emergency one night and for some reason the only solution the doctors could think of was to separate us, we were so far gone when they had us sign a waiver so neither of us could comprehend what was happening. Woke up in my own hospital bed in my own hospital room. Good lord the fear I felt that afternoon. Apparently Len had been freaking out way worse because he’d woken up like two days before I did. Shit was terrifying. You’d think “oh well now you get to experience privacy!” Fuck that I want my brother. I don’t remember exactly what had been wrong but both of us needed several different transplants, I got a new stomach. With that came new stomach issues. Could no longer have a lot of favorite foods or I’d get really sick. Len got off easy, I’m happy for him. We both got new dicks because we’d shared one. God bless that decision holy shit.

It was shortly after the emergency separation is when my mental health started to decline and I had that big meltdown that Skull Boy found reason enough to break my nose. In all fairness he’d thought I’d shoved Ruby when really I’d just startled her pretty bad. Not much better in my opinion. She didn’t deserve that. The guilt is what drove me to go hide in the woods surrounding the house. I’d originally planned to cool off and then lock myself in the garage for a while but fate had other plans for me that night. Took a tumble all the way down that huge hill the house sat on. I tried to find my way back home, I really did I promise. But I’d been so exhausted and was so lost I’d ended up in the neighboring town in the complete opposite direction of the house. I was lost in those woods for so long I’d kinda lost it a bit. My brain convinced me that there was nothing for me back home and that they didn’t want me there anymore. Kinda exiled myself at that point. Some guy found me collapsed in the snow and took me to him place to fix me up so I wouldn’t die out there. Definitely would have if he hadn’t found me. He’s the one who gave me the train ticket and the deed to the farm in Pelican town.

The train ride took days to get to Zuzu city. I slept the whole time anyway so don’t remember much. Lewis met me at the station and escorted me to the bus to the town. Passed out on the bus and woke up in the hospital, again. Getting real sick of that. Harvey thought Lewis had brought him a corpse at first so when I’d woken up he freaked out. Comforting. People would come visit. They were so nice. Got released from the hospital and Lewis and Robin showed me to the Farm. I miss the farm to this very day. I’d give anything to go back. Got the place all cleaned up with Robin’s help. Hid in the old cottage, refusing to come out for a month or so. Finally decided to try planting the seeds Caroline had given me to start the garden. Was very cynical about it until the little baby seedlings popped up. Immediately was hooked. I’d sit on the steps leading to the patio and just talk to the little guys. Random chicken showed up on my property one day and that’s when I’d met Jas, Vincent and Charlie. Jas was fascinated while Vincent was dragging her away from the farm screaming and crying that I was going to eat them. Only came outside to water after that. I’d catch Jas snooping around the property. She reminded me of Ruby so I’d get sad. She’d leave little flowers from the fields surrounding the ranch just south of the farm. Those flowers kept me chugging during that period of time. Eventually decided I wanted to keep Chickens for company so I made my way to the ranch. That’s when I met Marnie and Shane. Marnie had Shane help me with building the coop and the run. Didn’t say much. Marnie took it upon herself to keep pressuring him to come help on the farm after a while. He’d never really say much to me. We all know where that ended up.

Shane and I would talk more and more with each visit. Jas would come help too. I got fairly dependent on their visits. As Shane and I would talk more we’d get closer. We officially started dating about six months after I’d first got there. I was happy for the first time in ages, and so was he.

Things carried on as they were for two years until the big Stardew County fair. I was cleaning up my little booth when I heard a familiar voice shouting my name. I don’t know how or why they’d decided to attend this fair of all the other fairs and festivals but they’d found me. Len quickly went from sobbing in relief that I was alive to throttling me. Oh ho ho he was pissed when he found out about Shane. Had to pry him off of him. Poor Shane was so rattled. We had a big sit down talk with everyone. Skull Boy couldn’t even look me in the eyes. I could tell he blamed himself for my disappearance, and that made me feel terrible. Ruby never gave up on looking for me.

Everything eventually went back to normal. They’d come visit fairly regularly. Len would just show up unannounced sometimes but I liked it. Shane didn’t. Shane and I eventually got married and this is where you’d think it was happily ever after. I wish that was the case. I really do. I don’t remember the exact amount of time between that and my eventual, untimely death. It wasn’t long enough though. I was so happy. I had my friends back. I had my brother back. I was married with an adopted daughter, though Jas continued to refer to me as “ Uncle Frank” I didn’t mind though. I’d told Shane I was going to the mines and he practically begged me not to go because I’d previously gotten hurt down there, but I’m a hard headed, stubborn idiot. He knew he couldn’t stop me so instead he came along. I don’t know what happened down there, as I’ve blocked it out but something terrible obviously. Shane carried me all the way to Harvey’s, but it was too late. There was nothing anyone could do.

And now I’m here. Anyway, it’s 2am so I’m going to sleep now. I’m certain there are typos but I can’t be bothered. Goodnight.

[yisanged]

i don't know if i'm getting a check up this year. my dad is a healthcare hater for some reason and he's convinced that check ups are just for kids and i don't need them at this age. we still went last year even though he said that but idk about this year. last year i went i was mostly honest on the depression screening thing for the second year in a row (i used to just straight up lie before) and it came up like positive or whatever again and the doctor asked if i wanted to take meds and i said no because my dad was looking at me funny and i got scared. but i think i'd like to at least talk to someone about it like a psychiatrist i mean because to be honest i am doing kind of bad a lot of the time. and it's been like that for a really long time. sometimes i feel like it's fake but isn't that kind of part of it. my parents think having to take medication for anything on a regular basis is like a curse though and they don't think it's good for kids to be on regular meds. and also they don't think of mental health stuff the same way. the first time this came up my mom told me her parents sucked so bad she wanted to kill herself but clearly i can't feel the same because i have better parents than she did so i'll just get over it. i don't know

[timeoverload]

I am so worn out. It felt like a really long day. I have had a headache since I went to bed last night. I couldn't take anything for it because I have my appointment tomorrow. Hopefully it goes away before then.

This morning was very awkward because the morning team lead and I still aren't talking. I do enjoy the silence but it is a very tense environment to be in. I haven't been in this situation since I started there. The lady that trained me was not very nice but we got along ok for a while. One day she found out what the last 3 digits of my phone number were and she thought I was the devil. She ignored me for months because of that. It was ridiculous and I think that's a stupid reason not to talk to someone. Anyway, I also found out that he isn't planning on going anywhere so that sucks. He went to ask my boss if he would be able to take 3 weeks off for his wedding next year. I already know that I am not going to have a good time if I stick around.

I was annoyed earlier while I was in decontam washing a pan because that creepy guy was doing his decontam shift and he wouldn't stop talking to me. He was trying to convince me to go bowling with him. I am not going to do that and I wish he would stop calling me his friend. I'm only nice because I have to be professional. I don't know what else I would have done to give him that idea because I do my best to avoid and ignore him. I wish they would stop asking him to work upstairs. It would be nice if I could just tell him I have a boyfriend so maybe he would back off then.

The afternoon was very busy and I didn't think it was going to be that bad. There was a specialty bilateral case and that took forever and they used a ton of stuff for it. The doctor was being a dick according to the tech and he kept asking them to open more instruments even though it wasn't necessary. He wasn't happy with anything they gave him. I inspected them and they are totally fine. He is just very picky and he was in a bad mood. I think he might have been stressed so I guess I can understand that. He doesn't do that procedure very often. He used a lot of stuff for his other cases too so I had a big pile at the end of the day. I didn't get all of it done but I don't even care. I just focused on the important things. I didn't put anything away even though my shelf was overflowing. I wanted to go home and sit down so badly.

I left and I made myself stop and get fast food. I knew I wouldn't eat anything if I didn't do that. I haven't had that in so long and I ate too much. I feel really gross but I think I needed to do that. I haven't been eating the best and I have been snacking too much. I didn't eat lunch today because they had wings and they looked horrible. I wasn't going to waste $7 on that. I'm just glad I'm full now.

Somehow I am still gaining weight but I think part of that is due to my soda intake. I haven't had a Dr. Pepper in 2 days and I'm grumpy about it. I know I need to stop because it's causing a lot of problems for me. I can also tell when my blood sugar is too high and it's not a pleasant feeling. I am afraid that I will develop diabetes if I don't stop because that runs in the family. I can have one sometimes but I can't do it every day anymore. I think that part of the reason my head hurts is because I am having horrible withdrawals. It's annoying but I think I am ready to quit now. I am just going to be sleepy all the time I guess.

I wish it wasn't so late but I am going to try to relax for a little while anyway. I don't have much else to say at the moment. I already got ready for bed and I'm cozy. I hope I don't fall asleep right away but I don't want to be tired tomorrow either. I think it will be a good day and I am looking forward to it. :)

I hope everyone else has a good day tomorrow too!!! 💖💖💖

[titan-fodder]

Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

Summary: Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Eruri, implied Mobuhan, spelling Miche ‘Mike’, swearing, fighting, lots of nerdy shit, explicit sexual content, breeding kink

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile’s Apocalypse collab. I urge everyone to check out all the pieces on the masterlist. A big thanks to @pleasantanathema​ and @whats-her-quirk​ for being about as excited about this as I was, to @shadowworks​ for always encouraging me when I take on projects too big for my own good, and to @mindninjax​ who volunteered her husband’s expertise on this. I’m pretty proud of this piece and had a blast writing and researching for it. This is by no means scientifically accurate, but I did my best to make it realistic (as in I watched Supervolcano again and spent a lot of time on the USGS website). Also, I have been to Yellowstone exactly one (1) time in my life and was terrified the entire time which is where my fixation with it comes from. 

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

Caldera - large basin-shaped volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*

Pyroclastic flow - A hot (typically >800 °C), chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second) away from a volcanic vent or collapsing flow front.*

Tephra -  pieces of all fragments of rock ejected into the air by an erupting volcano.

VEI - The Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) is a relative measure of the explosiveness of volcanic eruptions.*

*definitions taken from USGS website

4  Y E A R S  B E F O R E 

Levi looks pissed when he’s on screen. He looks pissed all the time, but he looks especially pissed when he’s made to stand in front of pointed cameras and outstretched microphones. 

You can’t blame him; it’s not actually his job to deal with the press, but some years ago, Erwin had twisted his arm this way and that and convinced Levi to take over conferences.

“They understand you better,” he’d said. “You enunciate better than me. We can’t have people misunderstanding me and panicking, can we?” The blond had purposely spoken with an accent thicker than usual, and Levi had called him every name under the sun, but in the end, he’d relented, and now…

“Dr. Ackermann! Dr. Ackermann! Is it true that this has been the largest earthquake in Yellowstone since Hebgen Lake?” 

Levi squints, actually cringes at the question, then waves one of his small, bony hands. “Hebgen Lake was a major quake—7.2 on the Richter scale. This was only a 5.3, and yeah, it’s been a while since the park has had a quake larger than a three, but that doesn’t mean—”

“So, should we be worried about a supereruption?” Another reporter asks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing as the light leaves your colleague’s eyes. 

Levi’s jaw slides, and he pauses, no doubt to think about how to answer because this is a delicate question, one that the general public always reads extremely far into. He’s good at keeping his expression blank, at least, probably another reason Erwin requested he take over interviews. 

“Listen,” he starts off, slate eyes locking onto the largest camera in front of him. “Yellowstone is a hub of seismic energy. It wouldn’t be the park we know and love today if it wasn’t shaking and letting off steam like it usually does, right?” This gains a few relieved chuckles from the crowd of journalists. 

“Was this earthquake bigger than the ones we’re used to? Yes. Are we monitoring each and every tremor that we pick up? Also, yes. So, don’t make yourself sick worryin’ about sh—stuff you can’t control. We’ll let you know if it’s time to worry.” He sucks his teeth for a second, waiting for his advice to wash over everyone, then adds, “Keep a bug-out bag packed, though. Not because of the volcano or anything. Just because… The world is crazy and so are people, and it’s always good to be prepared.”

They take it as a joke, laugh a little louder as Levi steps down from the podium, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know he had made the comment with serious intent. It’s a lot easier to fly out of town at a moment’s notice when you already have the necessities packed, and though he won't tell them all the facts this early on, there’s a chance that they will eventually have to evacuate, yes. 

“I fucking hate that big, blond bastard,” is the first thing Levi tells you when he’s within earshot, much less well-spoken in casual situations than when his face is being broadcasted. “Voht iff they dunt understahnd me, Lebi?” He mimics your boss badly then pantomimes an uppercut with a dramatic grunt. 

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

“I was trying to make him sound stupid ‘cause that’s what he is.”

“I have four doctorates,” Erwin states as he falls into step with both of you, finally moving from his little hiding place behind one of the news trucks. “I’m not stupid. And, I do not sound like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Levi grumbles, doing his best to shrug away from the larger man when Erwin slings an arm around his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and Levi ends up stumbling to keep up with Erwin’s longer strides, which only serves to irritate him further. 

“You looked good up there. I mean, you sounded good. Sounded sure, comforting…” 

You shake your head at Erwin’s obvious struggle to just not be the big weirdo that he is, but it sure is painful to watch sometimes. 

Governor Zachary takes over the conference, leaving the three of you to make your way inside the lodge that the emergency broadcast was set up outside of. Levi and Erwin bicker through the lobby then through the back doors that lead you to the jeep that you all swing yourselves into. 

The sky is still a little dusty with shaken sediment, and some of the park rangers are setting up barricades at the mouths of a couple hiking trails leading to what is now a moderately large crevasse that’s opened up in the Biscuit Basin. 

Other than that, the park doesn’t feel much different as you ride through it on your way back to the lab. The Summer sun brings with it your favorite 70 degree days, and if it weren’t for Erwin’s questionable driving, you’d be tempted to hang half your body out the window just to feel the warmth better. The faint smell of sulfur in the air is soothing at this point—the smell of activity, the smell of science, the smell of home. Geysers are still shooting boiling water to the skies. The mud pots are still bubbling like ominous cauldrons. That earthquake couldn’t have shaken too much out of place if all the geothermal spots are still behaving as they normally do.

The tires kick up rocks and dust as Erwin brakes dramatically outside of the base, right behind another familiar jeep that makes Levi roll his eyes. 

“Great. The boy scout’s here.” 

“Oh, be nice, you little grump,” Erwin chastises him. “Mike’s been nothing but kind to us since he started working here.”

“Yeah, except for the time he misjudged the depth of that puddle and—”

“Splashed you with mud, yeah, yeah, we know, Levi,” you finish for him as you slide out of the vehicle. “You bring it up every time you see the guy. We know.”

“And, didn’t he apologize afterward?” Erwin prompts.

Levi doesn’t answer, but you respond for him: “Profusely. Drove him back to the lab, offered him his spare change of clothes—”

“Useless,” Levi hisses. “The dude’s a giant.”

“Not his fault he’s…” You try not to sound too giddy when you step through the door and see the man in question. “Enormous.” 

You don’t know Mike very well, one of the newer park rangers but with a background in geology which leads him to your neck of the woods very often. The few conversations you have had with him have all been pleasant. He’s soft-spoken but obviously intelligent with good instincts about both the park’s weather and wildlife. 

He’s also the only ranger you’ve seen actually pull off the dorky park uniform, but that could just be because the different shades of green look good against his tan skin and bring out his light eyes. Even taller than Erwin and a little broader too, M. Zacharias (as his little, metal name tag reads) is a slab of a man, and yet, when he grins, it’s almost boyish. 

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

He turns his head to look at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, then offers one of the soft smiles you were hoping for. “Just came to drop off some samples for Hange.”

“Disgusting,” Levi mutters just for you to hear as he passes, and you shove him hard enough to make him stumble and flip you off. 

“How’d the press conference go?” Hange asks, tossing a small, corked flask of mud from hand to hand—what you assume to be the sample—while twirling in their computer chair. The last member of your team, Moblit Berner, glances away from the holographic model he’s studying to hear the answer. 

“I think it went well,” Erwin says. “Levi handled it like a champion, as always.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” the brunet bites out, joining Moblit next to the expensive projection table in the middle of the lab. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

“I’m just running the numbers from today’s quake. The possible effects it had underground.”

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?” 

You, Erwin, and Hange make your way over to the table, staring at the laser-lit park model and the chamber underneath it. 

“Well, in most of the scenarios, it’s fine,” Moblit tries. “Nothing to worry about.”

“And, in the others?” 

He looks to Erwin, as everyone does in times of concern. Thick eyebrows pinched together, your boss motions to the hologram. “Show us.”

Moblit punches a few things in on the app he uses to control the model, then takes a deep breath and lets it play out for everyone to see, including Mike who slowly makes his way over, curiosity apparently getting the best of him. 

At first, nothing looks to change, just a living, breathing reenactment of what you were seeing today—every geyser, every fumarole, every little rumble, every minute rise and fall of the ground sped up to be detected with the human eye. 

And then, it stops. 

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you. 

The outline of the ground fractures in several different places, statistics for different earthquakes blinking above. The known vents of the park—every geyser, mudpot, and fumarole—are rendered inactive, and under it all, that massive chamber everyone is always so worried about begins to bulge upward and outward, growing larger and larger until…

The map shorts out, flickering then disappearing entirely, leaving the six of you staring at the space where it was shining just seconds ago. 

“Was that…” 

Erwin inhales deeply through his nose before exhaling the word that will eventually bring the nation to its knees.

"Supereruption."

3  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

Even through the thick headset, the whir of the helicopter blades is loud, a rhythm pulsing through the air strong enough to be felt in your chest right alongside your beating heart. 

Thankfully, Mike’s deep voice is loud and clear when he speaks, nodding his head to the right, “Look down at about two o’clock.”

You follow his command, tilting your head and peering down at an empty field. 

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

The microphone hanging in front of his mouth picks up his chuckle, and the sound of it echoes in your ears, making you grin albeit a little confused. 

“Exactly. That’s a big spot for bison this time of year.”

“Then why aren’t they here?”

Mike lets the chopper hover for a while, both hands still on their respective control levers. 

“Ground’s been moving too much,” he says after a few seconds of silent staring. You’d known the answer already but hearing the wildlife expert confirm it fills you with a little more dread than you’d originally harbored. “They feel things we don’t, the tiny quakes, the tremors. Stuff you only think the seismograph picks up—they feel all of it.”

“They know what’s coming,” you say more to yourself than to him. 

Mike offers you one of those charming, close-lipped smiles. “When in doubt, trust the animals.” 

A line you’ve heard him say a few times now. Mike loves everything that lives in the park, from all the common lake trout and sand cranes to the endangered grizzly bears and gray wolves. 

Trust the animals, he says. Because he trusts them. Because he loves them. 

“You wanna fly over the Grand Prismatic?” Mike asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you look over, you find your reflection in his mirrored aviators as he stares at you. 

His mouth quirks up at the corners, causing yours to do the same, and you nod. “Yeah, always.”

It’s your favorite view in the park, the colorful spring from up above. Mike had learned that a few months ago, and now whenever you ride in the chopper with him, he makes sure to pass over the beautiful attraction just for you.

Nearly 200° Fahrenheit with a pH of 8.7, the pool, while still dangerous due to its temperature, is one of the more moderate dangers of the national park, tame in comparison to the Norris Geyser Basin with temperatures up to 459° (a thousand meters below the surface, anyway) and a pH of about two. It’s dissolved bones—human bones. And, would claim even more if given the chance. 

You suppose that’s expected for a basin that’s sitting over a chamber of 1,500° molten magma. 

The Grand Prismatic is just as stunning today as it is every other. Its outer orange and yellow rings darken to greens and blues the further inward you look, thick steam rising from all over but more condensed over the middle. 

It was one of the park's biggest attractions, tourists flocking to the spring with their cameras, too stricken by the vivid chromaticism to listen or read about the temperatures and microbials that are responsible for the colors in the first place. 

As you hover above now, just to the side of the steam, your heart aches. There are no ignorant tourists to take pictures of the pool, the boardwalks and trails to these hot spots now blocked off once it became apparent that the earthquake that took place last year was not the last of its kind. Your team as well as the park rangers went to the park board as a unit and suggested that tourists needed to be kept away from as many geothermal features as possible, all of you with the same fear in mind: someone (or many someones) falling in. 

It's always been a risk, but now, with weekly rumblings, that risk has multiplied exponentially. All it takes is someone losing their footing on the boardwalk over the Norris Geyser Basin for serene sightseeing to turn into tragedy, and that's on a good day. Throw a 5.7 earthquake into the mix, and the park could lose an entire tour group to the heat and acid. 

It's just not a risk any of you are willing to take anymore. 

Most of the park remains open. Old Faithful continues to draw people in by the thousands. They sit and watch boiling water shoot into the sky every hour or so, clapping happily at the sight, unaware of the way you and your team hold your breath in wait, hoping for the geyser to go off on its usual schedule. 

One day it will stop. One day they'll all stop. And, then… 

"I can't believe it's all gonna be gone one day," you muse, blinking down at the prismatic pool for as long as Mike will let you. 

"Nah," the man disagrees. "Not gone. Buried, yeah, but not gone."

You snort, turn back to him with a grin and roll your eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. Just miles of pyroclast and ash, probably snow when we get thrust into another ice age 'cause of the crazy climate swing..."

"Alright, alright, I get it. The sun dimeth and the land sinketh."

"Gusheth forth steam and gutting fire," you continue grimly.

Mike turns the helicopter back toward the landing zone, saying nothing else and leaving you to take in the sights below. You're grateful for the silence; it's good for processing, for preparation. 

And, you're grateful for Mike, one of your best friends at this point—soft and kind despite his intimidating stature, smart as a whip, and just as stunning, if not more so, than the Grand Prismatic. 

"Any idea what you'll do afterward?" He asks, holding a hand out to you to help you from your seat in the chopper. 

"Not really. Survive, I guess." 

You land just a little too close to him, your face nearly coming in direct contact with his broad chest, but Mike steps back just in time, making you extend your arm, still connected at the fingers, before he drops your hand. 

"A feat all on its own," he says flatly, but he perks up as you both begin walking to the park ranger base. "Maybe you'll find another team to work on."

"I don't want to find another team," you tell him honestly. "This is my team. This is my home."

Mike hums, an understanding little sound, body warm when he gently bumps into you on the gravel pathway to the lodge. "Yeah, I know."

A geophysics major at UCLA with a specific interest in volcanology, getting to intern with the Erwin Smith at the Yellowstone supervolcano had been a dream come true. You'd expected to gain knowledge and experience—nothing more and nothing less. You'd lived out here for one summer during your graduate program, clocking the field experience you needed to get your degree and taking in everything you could. 

Back then, it felt like all you did was ask questions and get in the way. By the end of that summer, you knew every variation of Levi Ackermann's irritated sighs, every different pitch of Hange Zoe's shouts and how they correlated with their experiments. Moblit had been the newest permanent addition and was even more nervous than he is now, trying and failing to keep up with Hange (which he's much better at doing these days). 

They were all fantastic, but it had been the lead researcher who'd reeled you in. You'd never met anyone as passionate as Dr. Erwin Smith, captivated by the monster underneath the park and thrilled to share his brain with anyone willing to hold their hands out for it. Hell, he'd even helped you with your Master's thesis—hydrothermally altered mineralized systems and their seismic reflections. 

When you graduated, the Yellowstone team was the first you reached out to and the first you heard back from. Erwin said you'd been a perfect fit even as a student (which you hadn't exactly believed but definitely blushed at anyway). Mobs, Hange, and even Levi seemed happy to have you back. It was like you were meant to be here. In this park. With all of them. 

Studying the volcano and all of its properties has always been like breathing to you—natural and necessary. You move when it moves, every shake and tremor a heartbeat in your own chest, every shooting geyser like blood in your veins. The mudpots are your bubbling emotions, the fumaroles, your sense of building pressure and release.

You feel at home in the park because you trust it. Because you love it. 

You don't have room for another team in your heart, but as you walk inside the lodge next to Mike, watching as he takes off his sunglasses and grins at one of the other rangers, you think you at least have room for one more person. 

2  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

The lab has two extra bodies in it—two extra unwelcome bodies who keep getting in your way and touching things as they ask questions that no one has the answers to yet.

“When did you say this was going to happen?” The rotund state governor, Dhalis Zachary, asks for the second time since arriving, picking up a sample test tube that Moblit immediately plucks from his hand with a nervous smile.

“As I said before, it’s difficult to place a concrete timeline on an event like this,” Erwin tells the white-haired man. “We don’t exactly have in depth records of the last three eruptions, so all we have to go off of is the earth itself and our simulations.”

At the edge of the projection table, Nile Dok, FEMA director, cautiously waves a hand through the holographic model displayed in front of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is watching him because the slender man jumps in surprise when you snort at your desk, and his angular cheekbones take on a pink tint of embarrassment from having been caught.

He clears his throat, straightens the knot that sits over it, then turns to face Erwin and prompts, “Three eruptions before. One was a lot bigger than the others, though, right?”

Erwin nods. “Huckleberry Ridge. Over two million years ago.”

“We’re hoping—if a supereruption is to occur—it’ll be closer to the size of Mesa Falls,” you pipe up.

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

“One-point-three million years ago, two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers of erupted materials…” Levi lists off as he makes his way over to the table with a sanitary wipe in hand. He doesn’t like people in his space, doesn’t like strangers in the lab, even (especially) government officials (“They leave fingerprints, and they breathe on everything, and they waste our fucking time.”).

“Two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers… That’s the best-case scenario?” Zachary looks to Erwin, eyebrows raised high over his wire glasses.

Erwin stares at him for a moment, contemplating the best and easiest way to explain this to someone who has no real experience in the field. Eventually, he settles on, “Moblit, can you run some simulations for me?”

“Of course, sir,” the mousy scientist agrees, phone in hand and pulling up the app before the boss can even finish speaking.

Everyone gathers around the table except for Levi who steps away from it, grumbling under his breath about coming back to clean it later. He at least hits the lights, making the model easier to see as Erwin starts listing off numbers and scenarios.

“The best case, actually, is only one vent opening, maybe two. It would be something comparable to Mount St. Helen’s, though probably a bit bigger, say point-five cubic kilometers of material. It would be necessary to evacuate the park and this region of the state at the very least.”

Zachary hums, “And, how likely is that?”

Erwin shrugs. “Hard to say right now. As the earthquakes increase, though, the likelihood of a small eruption like that, uh, dwindles.”

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

Zachary makes a similar noise, slightly louder, a little more offended, then rattles off, “Mount St. Helen’s killed almost sixty people. The blast, the ash, the lahars—” as if you don’t all already know.

“No one’s discounting the damage of the eruption,” Levi cuts him off. “But, if you’re sweatin’ at those numbers, all due respect, Governor, I don’t know if you’re ready to stomach the rest of this little light show.”

The older man cuts his eyes at Levi who squints right back at him, only turn and shuffle over to his desk when Erwin waves him further away, a silent way of saying ‘keep your smart mouth away from the authority figures’.

“Moving on,” you cough, twirling a finger to get both Erwin and Mobs to continue.

“Yes,” Erwin nods. “So, any eruption is dependent on how much magma in the chamber is eruptible magma. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it will come out.”

Moblit punches in a few numbers to show what a small-scale eruption would look like, first with one vent then with two.

“With just that amount, even with two vents, it isn’t enough to completely destabilize the chamber.”

“And, destabilizing it would be… bad…” Nile states more than asks, brown eyes lit up by the model in front of him.

“No shit,” everyone hears Levi grumble from his desk, and Erwin huffs and looks at you, expression a little exasperated as he jerks a thumb back toward the grumpy man in yet another one of his silent motions— a plea in this case—'go take care of him’ which you do.

Levi is slumped in his computer chair, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over his desktop at the four men gathered around the hologram.

“Should’a just gone with Hange and the boy scout to collect samples when I had the chance,” he mutters.

“You hate collecting samples, especially sulfur samples. Which is what they’re getting now.”

“Yeah, well I hate these guys even more.” He says it quietly enough so that they won’t be able to hear, and even if they could, both Governor Zachary and Nile are too invested in the information that the scientists are giving them to pay attention to anything else.

“What’d they ever do to you?” You push, curious now because sure, Levi has always been the surliest of the team, but it’s rare that he’s surly and loud about it.

“Nothing. They have done nothing because they don’t belong here. They have no idea—no fucking idea—what’s about to happen.” You can hear his frustration even through his whispers. “Best case scenarios? Why are we even going over those? We know damn well that we’re not looking at one or two vents. And, we’re not lookin’ at Mesa Falls either.”

Letting out a long breath, you lean against Levi’s desk, ignoring the way he grunts in protest.

“I know. I’m sure Erwin and Moblit will prep them for the worst case.”

“There’s no prepping for it,” Levi hisses, gray eyes flashing. “We’re talking about—"

“…A nationwide cataclysmic event.” Both of you register Erwin’s voice at the same time and glance at the other group to find them staring at the lit-up simulation of the Huckleberry Ridge eruption.

“Which would pretty quickly turn into a worldwide problem,” Moblit adds quietly.

“Worldwide?” You hear Nile question in a low but very alarmed tone. “Because of the ash?”

“Well, yes, but, it’s not just ash,” Erwin clarifies, diving into his explanation of tephra and how dangerous it is. He reminds the men how far it traveled after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption since they’ve apparently latched onto that one, then challenges, “Now imagine an eruption about… six hundred times that size.”

“Six…” Nile swallows, turning his entire, slender frame toward Erwin and repeating, “Six hundred times bigger? That’s what we’re expecting?”

In his little rolling chair, Levi’s chest puffs a bit, finally satisfied that the gravity of the situation is beginning to set in. “Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look.”

Erwin is about to say something, right hand lifted with his index finger extended in a very matter-of-fact way, but before he can manage to get anything out, the door to the lab swings open and Hange walks in, Mike just behind them carrying all the collected samples in what almost looks like a lunchbox.

“We’re back—” Hange stops, taking in their surroundings, the lack of lights, the bright projection, the grim energy, then shouts, “Hey, get some Pink Floyd playing! Like a planetarium in here! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…”

“Dr. Zoe,” Moblit clears his throat. “We were just going over the utter devastation a supereruption could wreak on the country.”

“Oh, were you?” Hange pauses, brow rising, lips puckering into a sour expression. “My bad.”

Raising a hand to your forehead, you laugh to yourself for a few seconds before shaking the untimely amusement off and making your way over to Mike to take the sample kit from him.

“Careful,” he warns jokingly as he passes it off. “Got some very fragile gas and mud in there.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “So, I shouldn’t, like, shake it or anything?”

“Definitely should not shake it. Here, here, just—” He takes it back, grinning broadly as he tells you, “I think it’s best if you let a professional handle such dangerous compounds.”

All the doom-and-gloom you had been feeling mere seconds ago evaporates entirely, and you let out a frankly embarrassing giggle as you watch Mike very carefully set the samples down on Hange’s lab table, making a show of securing them and whispering a final, “Stay,” so that you clamp a hand over your mouth.

Levi groans in disgust, and, at the same time, Erwin mutters an apology to Zachary and Nile for, “… employing a team of children.”

Your face heats in embarrassment, but it doesn’t keep you from smiling at Mike when he saunters back over, looking rather sheepish himself.

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

“Please go now, for the love of God,” Erwin sighs. “And, take Levi and Hange with you.”

None of you need telling twice, quickly grabbing wallets and home-packed meals before rushing from the lab before your boss decides to murder one or all of you.

Levi steers Hange toward his car, leaving you alone with Mike which you don’t mind in the slightest. You take most of your lunches with him anyway, some of your breakfasts and dinners too, so this is simply part of your daily routine.

“I’ve got some sandwiches packed already. Wanna hit Mount Haynes?” He suggests, sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep.

You point a fingergun at him and nod. “I like the way you think, sir.”

He takes a very specific route, avoiding any damaged areas, having to veer off of the actual road at a certain point to take a safer path he and other rangers have made. You watch the mountains of the park grow closer and closer, what you know to be the ridge of Yellowstone’s caldera looming nearer.

Mike parks at the base of your intended destination then reaches into the backseat to grab the aforementioned lunch. You have no intentions of actually hiking to the top of the mountain—don’t have the time or the will, honestly—but as soon as the two of you have worked up a sweat and are at a decent enough elevation to look out on the park underneath, you drop to the dusty ground and take it all in.

Even from this distance, you can see some of the gases and steam in the air. That’s the only movement there is, though, save for the occasional ranger vehicle zipping along. The land seems almost barren at this point. The grass is still green. The sun is still bright as it is every Summer.

But, there are no animals, no tourists, no real life. Instead, it’s been replaced with cracks and crevasses, with barricades and warning signs.

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

It’s been almost six months since the park decided to shut down to the public, and if you’re being honest, it should have closed its doors long before. It took people dying to bring the board to their senses, an earthquake that shook the ground for minutes, the crust of the earth splitting right under the historical lodge that so many loved.

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

You barely recognize the park now, feel like the last endangered species left within its boundaries. It’s just the research team, some of the rangers, and the occasional outside visitor (board members, government officials, or press that gets waved away).

Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

“You look tired.” Mike’s voice may as well be carried by the breeze, light and low, refreshing as it passes over you, and you flash him a smile while nodding.

“Exhausted.”

He grabs a sandwich from the lunchbox, and you fish hand sanitizer from one of the many pockets on your pants, squirting it into your hand first then holding it out to the man beside you.

“Seems like you spend more time here than at your apartment.”

“Oh, most definitely.” You unwrap what looks to be turkey and pepper-jack and try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the fact that it’s your favorite simple-sandwich-combo and that Mike remembered. “Lot to do in the lab. Obviously.” You take a bite—no mustard, only mayo—and feel some of the tension between your shoulder blades begin to unwind.

“Figure you wouldn’t want it any other way, though,” Mike comments before chomping into his own sandwich.

“Right you are. I mean, end of the world, potentially. Scary stuff, but also…” You swallow, lick your lips and stare out at the landscape in front of you as you grapple with words. “It’s like… I’m terrified, but I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Like…”

This is how I’m supposed to go out, you almost say, but you’re smart to keep it to yourself. That’s a thought for you and you alone, one you haven’t shared with anyone because nobody else would understand except maybe Erwin.

“This is what you’re meant to do,” Mike supplies, and you look over at him. “This is what you love. I get that.”

And, he’s right. But, the park and volcanology—those aren’t the only things you love.

Mike sits there, legs crossed like an overgrown kindergartener, shaggy hair blowing in the wind, light green eyes so, incredibly warm and bright, and it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like your lungs and throat are already full of ash that hasn’t fallen yet, tight with dying declarations you can’t bring yourself to make.

“Have you ever heard of Katia and Maurice Krafft?” You ask, and yes, your voice does feel somewhat strangled, the space behind your eyes burning just a little hotter than usual.

Mike shakes his head, takes another bite, and gives you his undivided attention.

“They were these French volcanologists who got really famous for the pictures and footage they took of erupting volcanoes. The recordings they got for the community were—I mean, they were pioneers. They changed the game. There’s photos and videos of them just—” you gesture nebulously with both your hands, nearly flinging your sandwich off the side of the mountain and making Mike reach out and catch your wrist before you can.

“Please, no feeding the park’s wildlife, ma’am,” he jokes easily, and you have to shove the sandwich into your mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Mike shows the smallest of satisfied smiles, completely unaware of his own charm, and it’s maddening and intoxicating, and it’s all you can do to keep talking about the brave scientists.

“Anyway,” you continue. “Katia would get, like, within feet of lava flows. Just walkin’ right beside ‘em in her special heat suit. And, they’d wear protective helmets because of, you know—”

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

 “Yeah, exactly. They were just there, documenting it all happening, nerves of fucking steel. Katia was usually the one gathering samples and stuff while Maurice recorded, but he was right in the thick of it too. This badass couple learning and adventuring together.”

Mike eventually questions, “What happened to them?” but you’re sure he knows the answer when you deflate a bit.

“Mount Unzen eruption—got caught in the pyroclastic flow. Died instantly.”

“At least they were doing what they loved,” he says, and you nod.

You’re silent for a while, neither of you eating but both of you staring. You think about the Kraffts often, especially now with Yellowstone’s imminent eruption. Doing what they loved… They died for their research, and though you never got the chance to meet them or even speak with anyone who has met them, you have a feeling they wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.

“Just so you know,” Mike gets your attention, and when you look over at him, your heart swells.

The sun is reflected in his eyes, making light green glow with more than just warmth and sincerity, and god, you’re so in love with him, you can feel it in your bone marrow. You ache for him, you pine for him, and you want to live for him, but how…

“I’d film you walking next to a lava flow,” he tells you. Despite the little smile playing at his lips, you know he isn’t kidding.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away before any actually fall, but your sniffle definitely gives you away. You swear internally, berating yourself for getting emotional in front of Mike, though you can’t say you’re too surprised. Your stress levels have been through the roof, working non-stop for months now, the government breathing down your neck. People have died and the park is literally fracturing before your eyes, and you’re not ready to see it end—to see everything as you know it come to an end.

“Pretty dusty up here,” Mike comments while nudging you. You find him holding out a handkerchief, letting you take it then turning his gaze forward again to allow you a little privacy to dab at your eyes.

Mike has senses beyond the normal human spectrum. He has a sense for weather unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before, from thunderstorms and tornadoes to record snowfall and, on a few occasions, earthquakes. You can still vividly remember being in the lab the day of the fatal quake that damaged the hotel, seeing Mike suddenly look at the seismogram seconds before it started picking up the first tremors. Levi had called it “freakish”, but you had called him “incredible”.

It’s not just the weather, though. Mike has a way with people and animals too, like he can gauge their emotions and act appropriately. It’s how he knows what days he can push Levi’s buttons and get away with it, how he knows when Hange is too busy and overwhelmed to gather samples themself, so he gathers some for them.

And, it’s how he knows exactly when he needs to pull you into a hug, like when the team realized the chances of a small to moderate eruption were next to nothing, like when he had told you how many of those hotel guests had gotten hurt and died and you’d stared at him with wide, watery eyes, and like right now, as you think about Katia and Maurice Krafft, the fate they met and how yours might not be any different.

Will you die doing what you love? Will you be able to welcome it as bravely as they did?

You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder, letting yourself melt into his side, his arm sturdy and grounding where it wraps around you, and as you look out over the sunlit grounds, one last question plagues your mind:

Does a pyroclastic flow burn as hot as the molten feelings inside of you?

You can’t imagine anything does.

1  Y E A R  B E F O R E

The message is broadcasted straight from the state capitol, Levi's expression grim as he reads off the paper hidden on the podium. 

"I know all of this sounds apocalyptic—the ash and blackouts and probable climate change, and it is scary, but we still have some time, so there's no reason to panic. We just urge that if you haven't already started preparing, now's the time. Please."

A couple steps behind him and a little to the right is Erwin, standing tall and nodding at everything Levi says as if he's providing some kind of credibility. 

"Considering we're looking at a VEI eight, the team of volcanologists at Yellowstone have recommended that all of Wyoming and its neighboring states evacuate, but I'll let Homeland Security go over all that."

As he turns to step back, the crowd of reporters and journalists begin shouting out questions, and Levi grimaces as he moves to stand next to Erwin who places a hand in his shoulder. 

You can't hear everything being asked from where you're watching at the lab, but you can't imagine it's anything good judging by the way Levi's frown just keeps growing. 

Fortunately, the vaguely familiar secretary of Homeland Security, Dot Pixis, takes the stand quickly, holding up wrinkled hands in an attempt to calm the crowd. 

"We have some more very important information to cover in this address, so if you'll allow me…" He clears his throat and straightens a stack of papers on the podium, no doubt a huge list of protocols that the public will only half listen to. 

You swivel back and forth in your chair as you watch the thin man on screen, his voice scratchy but strangely soothing as he outlines rationing, supply storage, and evacuation routes. 

"We're also negotiating with our neighboring countries about opening borders. Now, anyone seeking refuge would still be required to fill out an application for a temporary visa, but—"

"God, you know they gotta love that," you mumble to yourself. 

Hange, tinkering somewhere behind you, laughs and agrees, "Yeah, after decades of treating immigrants like trash, and now we're just knocking on their doors, asking for help. Ridiculous."

"Embarrassing, is what it is." 

It was for whichever government official had to make that call, anyway. You're positive that had been a hard pill to swallow. 

As far as you've heard, the foreign affairs part of this mess is actually going quite well. You'd accompanied Erwin to the big meeting with Canadian officials and watched him and Pixis plead a case for America, emphasizing just how bad the eruption will be "at home", then switched tactics at whiplash speed to go into how countries needed to work together since this wouldn't just be the US's problem in the long run. 

It turned into a rather inspiring speech, if you're being honest, prompted you to text Levi a short, how is E so damn charming all the time? to which he'd responded, Believe me, you're asking the wrong fuckin guy. 

With multiple government agencies now backing the states and setting plans in motion, the impending eruption seems even more real. You thought your stress levels were high before, that your sleep pattern left little to be desired, but oh, you had been wrong. 

Case in point being Mike walking into the lab with a brown paper bag and slightly unpleasant expression as he asks, "Have you eaten today?" 

Your glare has no real meaning as you grumble, "Had a granola bar this morning."

"It's nearly six," he groans, pushing you, chair and all, up to your desk and setting the bag in front of you. "Please eat something before you pass out."

"Okay, okay, Christ. You're more attentive than my mother."

"I met your mom last year, and you and I both know she would be hysterical if she knew how you've been treating yourself lately."

He has a point. In fact, you're glad Mike is naturally quiet and didn't bond too strongly with her, otherwise you have a feeling he would have called her by now to complain. 

The chicken salad sandwich you bite into must be imbued with some kind of magic, because you let out an honest to god moan when you swallow the first bite. 

"Oh my god, what did you put in this?" You ask as you blink up at your best friend. 

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. "Uh, actual nutrients maybe? Weird how your body needs those."

Hands too busy shoving more food into your mouth, you headbutt him right at the hip, just hard enough to make him grunt and sway. He steadies himself, glances down at you like he's annoyed but ends up breaking into a grin when he catches what you assume to be a piece of chicken salad dotting the corner of your mouth. 

"What am I gonna do with you," he mumbles, wiping it with a gentle thumb. 

Your body warms with both embarrassment and affection, but you can't quite find a response even as your head clears for the first time in about two days. You really do need to start taking better care of yourself. 

The undeniable feeling of being watched makes your neck prickle, and you break Mike's gaze to find Hange staring at both of you, a not-so-subtle smile making their mouth curl mischievously. You have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and you're heart starts beating a little faster at the thought of them possibly speaking it out loud, but before they get a chance, Mike's phone rings. 

You catch a glimpse of the name displayed before he picks it up—Gelgar—recognize it and tease, "One of the doomsday preppers, right?" 

Because no matter how much Mike denies it, just like he does now— "They're not doomsday preppers—" you know that his friends are a little odd. Extremely well prepared, but odd. 

"Hey man, what's up?" He answers, stepping away from you. "Isn't it almost two there?" 

You don't try to listen in, just look back to Hange and shake your head when their smile grows. 

"Stop."

"What?" They giggle. "I'm not even doing anything!" 

"You're thinking things, though."

"Well yeah, I'm always thinking things. How else would I have gotten this smart?" They flip their ponytail for emphasis and toss a wink your way, but Hange's voice gets oddly sincere when they tell you, "Seriously, though. You guys should get while the getting's good. I don't know why you haven't jumped each other's bones yet."

You splutter, look around frantically to make sure Mike isn't within earshot, and thank god, he's in the next room over. 

"Hange!" 

"I'm just saying! It's like watching Erwin and Levi from a few years ago. God, that was a nightmare."

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

"Yeah, yeah. When do they get back in anyway?" 

You both look to the TV that's still playing the live address, easily spotting your missing team members behind Secretary Pixis. 

"Probably not 'til later tonight. Levi's gonna try to talk Erwin into getting a hotel, I bet, but he's gonna wanna come back to the lab and check everything before he goes to bed."

"How do you know he wants to come back?" 

You show a sheepish grin, fishing the chips out of the paper sack Mike brought, then answer, "'Cause that’s what I’d wanna do."

*

It's late. Far too late to be at work, but being at home never feels right these days. It's too quiet, too still, too not the lab. The only time you genuinely enjoy being there is when friends are over for a movie or meal over the weekend. Other than that, you're not at all attached. 

Not the way you are here.

Almost midnight, you move from table to table, working, organizing, just keeping busy. You're very awake, still jittery from the quake that shook the park at around three that day. It lasted for almost three minutes, splitting the ground dangerously close to Old Faithful, and the geyser hasn't gone off since which is troubling. If too many of the geothermal spots stop releasing pressure, the eruption will take place sooner than anticipated. 

It's why you're here so late, pouring over the data, studying the numbers and possible effects. 

You're not alone, though. Erwin is also shuffling around the lab, but he's focused on something else, a project of sorts. 

"Can you come take a look at this?" He calls from the projection table, and you drop what you're doing to join him. 

The model isn't lit up as a hologram, surprisingly. Instead, Erwin has paper blueprints laid, curling at the edges from being rolled up. It takes you a second to realize what you're looking at, but when it comes together, you inhale sharply. 

It's a simple design, a square floorplan with a couple entrances. The only exit looks to lead upward, though, and it's easy to tell that means Erwin wants this to be underground. There are notes scribbled in the blank spaces, 4 meters down, bomb proof top, ventilation, generators, gasoline?, rations < 5yrs, medicine, vitamins, guns. The list goes on, handwriting sloppier and sloppier the more thoughts Erwin had at the time. 

"You think this would be ready in a year?"

Erwin shrugs. "With the right construction team, yes. That one bunker designer…" Erwin snaps, trying to think of the name, but it doesn't come to him. "Whoever—He built ten shelters in two years." 

You stick your hands in your back pockets as you lean over to look closer. It could just be your overworked brain, but it looks like a good design, something someone actually has a chance of surviving in. 

Hearing your name makes you look up again. Erwin has you pinned with one of his serious blue gazes. "No one else will understand, so please keep this plan to yourself."

You nod but venture to ask, "You haven't told Levi?" 

"No," he answers, mouth pulling downward. "It's… Going to be a fight."

"Understandably so. You're basically married to the volcano, though, Erwin."

"So are you."

His eyes are shining as your lips twist into a grimace. He's gotten to know you well over the years. You've always shared a certain bond over Yellowstone, one the other team members just don't have. To them, it's just a job, just science. 

To you and Erwin, though, it's a religion. You're in love with the park, all its secrets and eccentricities. It's your home; it's where you belong. 

"Assuming this does get built," Erwin starts, lifting a thick eyebrow in curiosity. "You would want to stay, right?" 

"You mean, ride out a supereruption? Be the first to see the zone-one damage?" 

Erwin doesn't answer, but he does smile, excitement dancing just below the surface of his stare. 

You feel it too, the urge to throw caution to the wind, to take a chance that could very possibly get you both killed. The Kraffts flash through your mind again, their failed attempt at escape.

A breathless, "Fuck yeah," tumbles from your mouth before you can dwell on the consequences for too long. 

It's time to either live it up or go down in ash and flames. 

6  M O N T H S  B E F O R E 

Yellowstone is unrecognizable. The ground is mostly made up of large crevasses and smaller cracks, debris from fallen buildings left in piles with no one to clean them up. 

The geysers are all inactive at this point, but steam is still rising from the springs, and the mudpots are still bubbling. It's the only thing that's keeping the volcano from erupting. 

The ground shakes multiple times a day, the lab seismographs constantly picking up activity. The little ones don't faze you anymore. You and Mike secure the glass samples to make sure they don't break while Erwin and Levi basically hug their computers. Yours was damaged in the quake that prompted Hange and Moblit to leave—a 6.7 that caused Hange to fall into their desk, breaking their collarbone in the process. After getting Hange pain meds and a sling, the two of them were on a plane to D.C. that same night. 

Every day is another risk taken. Now, it's just you, Erwin, Levi, and Mike. 

The latter two spend most of their days dropping hints about leaving soon as well. Mike has already made plans to fly to Norway and join his not-doomsday prepper friends and brings it up often.

"You should come. See the tulip fields while they're still around."

"Gel and Nana have done a great job setting up the ranch. They wanna let as many people stay as they can." 

"You'd really like them. They bicker like an old married couple, but they're good people."

Levi takes a different approach with Erwin, appeals to the other man's desire to help and protect. 

"We really should head to the homeland security office. They don't know what they're dealing with."

"Dok is an idiot. They need a bigger brain over there for guidance or whatever."

"Your long-term plan will be better than anything those government fucks will come up with anyway."

Every time, you and Erwin gently wave them off with promises of "soon" and "just a little longer." Neither of you breathe a word about staying. Despite the fact that construction on the bunker has not started and you're running out of time, both of you are dead set on the plan: go down with the park. 

You're found out before it can come to fruition, however. 

The remaining team is sitting in the lab, busy with their own little projects, when Mike looks up suddenly, takes a deep breath, then says, "Earthquake," just as the seismogram starts going wild. 

He pulls you from your chair quickly, dropping to the ground and bringing you with him to crawl under your desk. On your knees, your body curls in on itself and you lock your hands over the back of your neck as the floor beneath you starts to rumble violently. 

You can hear Levi cursing from somewhere as the sound of glass shattering rings throughout the lab. You think another computer falls, models and books flying from shelves. 

Mike huddles over you, one hand gripping the leg of the desk while the other protects your ribs. You want to tell him to shield himself, but you know there's no use. Besides, the weight and warmth is comforting even in the face of danger—his chest hot against your back, the epitome of a knight in shining armor. 

It lasts for several minutes. The power cuts off, windows crack, doors swing open only to slam shut again. You know the lab is going to be an absolute wreck when it's over. 

When the shaking finally settles, everyone crawls out of their hiding places. Levi warns, "Be ready for aftershocks," as if you don't know, and Erwin fumbles in his desk until he finds a flashlight. 

The ray of light illuminates the damage. Just as you suspected, the place looks like a tornado blew through. Glass litters the floor along with the far-flung books and park models. Both Levi and Erwin's computers fell and disconnected, and your stomach drops as you think about all the potentially lost information. 

"You okay?" Mike asks, pulling you up to your knees so he can look at your face. 

"I'm fine," you tell him, his hands on your cheeks making you flush, so you distract yourself. "E, Levi, you guys okay?" 

"Yes," Erwin answers first. 

Levi shows his face, a deep frown making his brow furrow, as he looks at his desktop. "I'm pissed but uninjured."

The four of you spend the next couple of hours cleaning up what you can, pausing and taking cover when the aftershocks hit, then starting over as the lab sustains more and more damage. 

Mike sweeps up the glass. Erwin focuses on getting the computers back on the desks safely then goes and checks the projection table. You and Levi collect the bigger items, setting books back on shelves. 

You don't think about the mistake before it's too late, when Levi is already pulling out the blueprints that were hidden behind the stack of encyclopedias. 

As he stills completely, you turn to look at him and find him staring down at the large, uncurled papers. Your instinct is to snatch them from his hands, but it's no use. He's already seen enough. 

"What the fuck is this?" His voice comes out like poison as he immediately looks at Erwin. 

The larger man glances at Levi, eyes trailing to what he's holding, then pales. 

"Levi..."

"Is this a god damn bunker? Are you planning on staying in this hellscape?" 

Erwin strides over to him and reaches for the prints, but Levi tugs them out of reach. 

"Answer me," he spits. "Is that your plan?"

"I—" Erwin swallows thickly before answering, "Yes."

It's silent for a long time, and the more it drags on, the tighter Levi's lips get, gray eyes shiny with quiet rage. 

This is what Erwin was trying to avoid, why he insisted on keeping the bunker a secret. 

But while Levi is glaring at Erwin, you feel another gaze on you. Skin crawling, you chance a glance up at Mike, stomach churning when he looks away quickly and bites his lips. He knows. Somehow without anyone saying anything, Mike knows you’re planning to stay too.

Heavy breathing and the distant sound of rumbling earth is all that can be heard, followed by backup generators roaring to life and restoring the overhead lights. 

"You too?" Mike finally speaks. “You wanna stay too?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unable to answer. He sounds so disappointed—defeated—and it makes you feel sick. 

"Do you guys know," Levi growls, "How fucking insane that is? This is the dumbest, most reckless, selfish fucking thing you could do! And, I know it's all your thinking!" He drops the blueprints in favor of shoving Erwin roughly, making him stumble back. 

"Hey," you step toward him, but the small man just turns to you and accuses, "And, you egged him on, yeah? Did you even think of us? How we would feel? Staying here is suicide!"

"I have a plan, Levi," Erwin says, raising both hands to his head and effectively disheveling his own hair. "If you just look at the plans. I know what we need to survive. I've done the math, I've studied the—"

"Jesus Christ, we're talking about an eight hundred degree pyroclastic flow! Tephra that will suffocate you. You really think being a few meters down during the eruption will be enough?" Levi is screaming now, his voice cracking, and you think you see tears at his waterline. 

It makes the spaces behind your eyes burn, but it’s only partly out of guilt. The other emotion that’s welling up in you is anger, a betrayal you can barely wrap your head around, but it comes tumbling out anyway.

“Do you even know us? You think we can actually leave the park behind?” Your voice rises to match Levi’s, gains his acidic attention once again. “I don’t even understand how you can run away, after everything you’ve put into this place! How can you just—” You let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry as you raise your hands to your face and shove your palms to your eyes. “I get Mike because he doesn’t have anything fucking left here. He’s just been helping out—”

“You think I don’t have anything left here?” He asks quietly from beside you, and when you look at him with a watery stare, you find him wounded. His jaw slides forward as he sucks on his teeth, and fuck, his eyes are getting glossy too. 

“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Levi gestures wildly at the two of you. “Mike and I have stayed because you guys won’t fucking leave, and now it comes out that you were never planning to. When were you gonna tell us? Would you have even given us enough time to get out?”

“Of course!” Erwin takes him by the shoulders, and Levi snarls up at him. “I was working up to it. I wasn’t ready to—to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe this. You really think a whole team of workers is gonna come out here to help build this? You wanna put their lives in jeopardy too?”

“We—”

“You haven’t even thought this through all the way! When did you come up with this? When you hadn’t slept or eaten in forty-eight hours? When your brain wasn’t fucking functioning at full capacity?”

Erwin stays quiet, and so do you because Levi has a point. Taking care of yourselves physically has not been high on either of your lists of priorities, and you’re sure your mental state has suffered for it. All the nights spent at the projection table, mapping out ideas, growing giddy over the idea of staying for the eruption. Was that just two people high off passion, becoming more and more unhinged with each passing day?

Quite possibly. 

You expect the fury to be enough to push Levi away, that he’ll simply give up, drag Mike out with him, and leave you and Erwin to hunker down like you’d planned.

But, that is not the case. 

Instead, he shoves a thin finger into Erwin’s chest, gritting out, “Pack your fucking bags so we can go to D.C. where they need you.”

Erwin takes a breath then slumps in defeat. Now, when faced with the obstacle that is his boyfriend, you figure he’s weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. Between his love for the park and his love for Levi, he’d rather salvage the latter. 

Mike shifts next to you, grumbles out a low, “You too,” that makes the tears finally fall from your eyes. “I’ll take you on one last ride to the springs, but then we’re leaving.”

He stays true to his word, and you cry the entire time you’re in the chopper, headset smushed against one ear as you rest your head on the window and look down at the Grand Prismatic, the steam rising from it. It’s beginning to grow discolored with all the activity, but it’s more stunning now than it’s ever been. 

Soon, it’ll be completely covered. All of it will. And, you could have been too, stuck underground for a couple of years only to be the first to step out into the pure destruction. 

That’s not an option anymore, though, not with Mike looking as grave as he does, not with the way he shadows you in your apartment as you gather the necessities, like he thinks you’re going to bolt and run back to the lab, not when the two of you meet back up with a still-fuming Levi and a despondent Erwin to head to the airport.

The tickets are outrageously priced at such short notice, but that doesn’t stop Levi and Mike from passing their credit cards over.

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

Boarding passes in hand, the four of you walk through the bustling airport together for as long as you can before you have to inevitably split up. Levi glares at you but still pulls you into a tight hug, grunts into your ear, “You’re so stupid,” before letting go and turning to Mike. “Keep her safe, boy scout. I’m trusting you.”

Mike nods, and both of them clasp hands as you turn to look at Erwin. Tears and pathetic sniffles return when you walk into his open arms, clinging to him and mumbling, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. I would’ve followed you.”

“I know.” He rubs your back and heaves a sigh. “I know you would have.”

He eventually disentangles you to hold you at arm’s length, wipes the moisture from your face with his thumbs, then shows a sad smile. “See you in a few years, yes?”

“Yeah.”

One more squeeze, and everyone turns away to walk to their respective gate. Mike’s hand splays across your back, warm, guiding you in the right direction, keeping you steady. He’s always kept your feet planted firmly on the ground. You figure, if there’s one person you’d like to experience the downfall of society with—above ground—it’s him. 

S I X  W E E K S  B E F O R E

Norway is kind of incredible. It has a natural beauty that takes your breath away just like Yellowstone used to, but it’s vastly different. Everything is green, including the lights in the sky at night. You’re surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, and you just know it’ll be beautiful under thick layers of snow. 

The once rustic ranch, now restored, is made up of several small houses and a farm full of cows and goats. It’s sad to think about the fate they will eventually meet (slaughter then stomachs), but you know it’s necessary to prepare for the coming years.

And, the owners have definitely prepared. 

Gelgar and Nanaba are everything Mike described and more. Between taking care of the farm and setting up energy sources, they do their best to make you and the other arrivals feel at home. They’ve designed the ranch to house up to about thirty people, a commune of sorts (minus any cult-like vibes). Naturally, everyone pitches in and helps around the place. You find yourself cleaning a lot, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice, mindless task that keeps you from thinking too hard about everything you’ve left behind. 

You also like to join Nana outside, help with the animals and enjoy the sunshine while you still can. Of course, this subjects you to endless teasing especially today when she catches you staring into the distance at Mike who's helping Gelgar fix a solar panel. 

His shirt is starting to stick to his back from sweating, muscles straining under the damp cloth, and good lord, when did he get that broad? Sure, he's always been tall and fit, but working on the homestead has definitely made him more built. That along with the fact that his hair has gotten long enough to tie up in a bun has your mouth going a little dry. 

"Like what you see?" Nanaba asks, accent thick, voice full of amusement. 

You shoot her a look, face all scrunched up when you mumble, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" She sticks her tongue out. "Don't be coy. I see the way you both look at each other."

"Tch." 

"And, how both of you volunteer to cook with the other when it's your turn to. You move around each other like you know exactly where the other is. Two halves of a whole."

You roll your eyes. "We've just worked together for a while. We make a good team."

She's not wrong, though. Since coming to Norway, you and Mike have grown even closer. There was a period of time when you could hardly look at him, too guilty for trying to stay at the park, guilty for hurting him, but eventually the two of you fell back into your normal dynamic—joking, laughing, touching just a little too much, smiling when you think no one's looking. You even spent an afternoon together in a nearby field of flowers, just like he'd promised. With a picnic basket full of food, and a blanket to lay on, you'd admired the clouds overhead while enjoying the rustling grass surrounding you. 

It's been your favorite day since coming here, had reminded you of the lunches you used to share on the mountain. 

You're not brave enough to make any sort of move, though. Mike is just so good. There's a chance his affections are simply based in friendship, and that's something you're scared to ruin. He means too much to you. 

"How long did you work together?"

"Like, four years, give or take a few months."

"And, you're still acting like nothing is there?" Nanaba tsks. "Ridiculous."

"How long did it take you and Gel to get together?" You ask, then quickly backtrack, "Not that that's what I want with Mike necessarily."

"Mhm," she smirks. "Gel and I did it backwards. Got pissed at a bar and fell into bed together. Then we started to get to know each other and found out we just worked."

Sounds about right, you think. The couple has an interesting back-and-forth, half bickering, half innuendo. You can always, always see the love in their eyes, though. That's what you want in life. That’s what you want with Mike. Even if you won't admit it out loud. 

You turn your gaze back to the roof he and Gelgar are on just in time to see him making his way down the ladder. Once on the ground, he and the other man start striding over to you. Mike's face is red, sweat beading at his hairline, and Gelgar's pompadour is beginning to fall. 

"Think we got it fixed up," Mike announces, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead. 

You stare at his toned stomach for just a little too long, the lines of his hip bones leading into the waistband of his jeans. 

Nanaba's words ring in your head again—fell into bed, fell into bed, fell into bed—and you fixate on the idea of you and Mike doing the same. To have him hovering over you, or maybe you over him, thighs on either side of those hips as his hands trail up your body—

You shake the thought from your head, letting your glazed eyes refocus on the men in front of you. 

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner. Who's cooking tonight?"

“I believe it's Lynne and Henning," Nana answers. 

Mike nods then heads toward the little house he's been living in, right next to yours, of course. He reaches out to let his hand brush yours as he passes, and it takes conscious effort not to grip onto one or two of his large fingers and follow him. 

"God, that's painful to watch," Gelgar snorts. 

Nana laughs and agrees, "I was just telling her the same thing."

"Oh, shut up. Ya' couple of meddlers."

*

A line forms every evening outside of the main house, the one Gelgar and Nanaba share. You and Mike stand together at the back, watching everyone in front of you. Some are families, some are couples, some are here alone. You figure, no matter their status, the ranch is a nice place to be—peaceful, home-y despite its size. So far, everyone gets along. 

Only the kids complain about chores, about seven of them constantly running around together, but that’s to be expected, and honestly, you don’t mind picking up their slack. Life is about to get very difficult for them. They should get to be children for a little while longer. 

Potato soup is poured into your bowl with a ladle, topped with shredded beef and green onions, then you and Mike retire back to your little cottage home to eat and watch TV. It stays on the same channel, world news, and there’s always a long segment that covers Yellowstone and what it’s doing. 

It is not uncommon at all to look up from your food and see Erwin or Levi’s face on screen, speaking with experts, sometimes in interview-like settings.

Tonight, they’re covering a problem that’s been going on for some time, but everyone figured would resolve itself: some people will not leave the most dangerous zones, and it’s because they simply do not believe an eruption will take place. 

Even with the evidence, the science backing it—even with actual federal authorities knocking on their doors and telling them to leave—there are many people who just want to stay put. It’s insane to you, makes your blood boil. Children have been taken from their homes to be placed in safer areas, which only causes the disbelievers to get angrier. They want to say “I told you so”, but that’s not going to happen. 

What’s going to happen is getting burned alive in the flow that pours from the volcano. They will die a painful death, get buried under meters of fallout, ash, snow. There’ll be nothing to recover except for petrified, charred corpses. 

Of course, the irony is not lost on you; you and Erwin were both willing to chance similar fates, but you still think the two of you would have been more prepared than these regular-Joes who think their front door is enough to stop a volcanic eruption. 

“In the end, there’s no reasoning with people like this,” Erwin says on camera, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips. “When a person is so, uh… Dead set on staying, it will take an unstoppable force to move them.”

In your case, that unstoppable force had been Levi screaming at you while holding back tears. 

“Unfortunately for them, this force is the eruption, and they won’t be able to leave when that occurs.”

“Because they’ll be dead,” the reporter states more than asks.

Erwin nods and answers with a grim, “Yes. Yes, they will be.”

They’re not trying to be subtle, obviously hoping that this will get through to the stubborn masses, but you doubt it will. They’re living on borrowed time at this point. Any day could be their last.

Mike is quieter than usual as he eats, barely even looking at the television screen, and you have a feeling he’s thinking about how close you were to staying alongside those stupid assholes. It’s still a touchy subject, one both of you do your best to avoid. You’re mostly happy to be in Europe, spending your days with Mike and his friends and everyone else running around here. 

But, there’s also a part of you, deep down inside, that aches, that misses the park, that still wants to be right in the middle of the destruction. Watching it blow from so far away is going to hurt. This massive monster you’ve fallen in love with over the years will never be the same, and your last good look at it was that tearful helicopter ride. 

You’re not resentful toward Mike or Levi for dragging you out of the lab that day, but you are grieving in a sense. 

The program ends with Erwin giving one last warning— “If you insist on staying, I’d advise bomb-proofing your home, stocking up on several years-worth of rations, and installing one hell of a ventilation system. Good luck.”

Mike clears his throat and stands, grabbing his empty bowl as well as yours, then heads into the kitchen to rinse them off. 

Sighing, you follow him, lean against the counter a couple feet away as you think of something to say that won’t sound too forced.

“Hey,” you start.

Mike gives a low, “Hm?” as he holds the dishes under hot water, finally glancing over when you gently nudge him in the side.

“Thanks for…” You take a deep breath, pinned by light green eyes, then try again. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He blinks but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “It’s really nice. And, I’ve bonded or whatever with Nana.”

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

You shrug. “I mean, yeah. That park was my life, but… Probably dying in it was not one of my brighter ideas.”

He snorts, shuts off the water, then turns to you. Craning your neck, you take in his face—really take it in—the few strands of hair that hang freely past his jawline, the way his beard, no longer stubble but not exactly thick, forms around his mouth and connects with his sideburns, his strong, slightly curved nose, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s so painfully handsome, especially all shaggy and rugged, and it makes your heart beat too hard and too fast in your chest. 

Mike dries his hands on a dish towel, looking down at them when he tells you, “I’m glad we were able to get you out of there. It’s not something I’ll ever feel bad about. Even if you hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you,” you scoff. “Never could. You’re my best friend, Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, then think of Nanaba earlier that day and laugh quietly. 

“What?”

You wave a hand, shake your head. “Nothing, nothing, just… Nana has… Ideas, or something.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Mike understands what you’re trying to say. He inhales then breathes out it out in a chuckle as he posts up against the counter next to you. “Yeah, Gelgar does too.”

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

A silence hangs between the two of you, one that would normally be comfortable but is now a little thick given the subject matter of your conversation.

You and Mike. Just earlier that day you had been thinking about how scared you are to ruin the friendship, but the more you imagine, the more you get lost in the fantasy…

“Or maybe…” You glance over to see Mike nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground as he continues, “Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves.”

He raises his head, gaze locking with yours, and you stop breathing. Because that stare is so hesitant, searching for something inside of you as if you have the answer, but you’re just as scared and confused as he is. Over four years of friendship—of good, meaningful friendship—is that worth risking just because you’re both curious? 

Or has it all been leading to this since the start? Since those first, short conversations, since the meals shared with one another, the affectionate gestures. Mike has always kept your head on straight, looked after you with even more care than he had with the park’s wildlife. 

You thought it’d all been one-sided pining, that he was just glad to have someone who understood him a little better than everyone else because you do. You understand his passion for the planet, you understand all his little fixations. You appreciate every eccentricity like he appreciates all your neuroses. 

“Maybe so…” 

Two very large hands are on your face, tilting upward, and your lungs begin to burn as Mike strokes just under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. He has to lean down quite a bit, pauses just over your lips to let out a tiny huff of surprise, disbelief, awe maybe, then closes the rest of the miniscule distance. 

He is very warm and very firm against you—feels good, all the comfort of someone familiar but still so new. Your lips fit together perfectly, and at last, you’re able to breathe again, mouths moving in an experimental back and forth, feeling each other out until he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Gripping strong shoulders, you let the kiss deepen, opening your mouth for him, and Mike groans when he’s finally able to taste you. 

Hands fall from your face, moving down, down, down, brushing your ribs, settling at your hips, but his fingers are long enough to curl and dig into the meat of your ass, making you gasp and press harder against him.

Rolling his pelvis into yours, you very quickly find yourself pinned between Mike’s body and the counter. Your grasp travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer—you just need him closer—and he must feel it too because he hoists you up and sets you on the countertop, making room for himself between your legs.

You feel too hot and too desperate, but it’s good, a release that’s needed to happen for far too long. All manner of geothermal metaphors swim through your mind, spurting geysers and boiling mudpots, and it makes you giggle against him, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling around the flesh as he lets out another one of those rumbling, satisfied noises. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Mike mumbles, and for some reason, it’s strange to hear his voice so close, so quiet, as you’re pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It’s intimate and different, but it’s right. 

“I’m just…” Another little laugh, “Thinking about the volcano.”

“When are you not thinking about the volcano?” You have a feeling he’s rolling his eyes, but he still grins and kisses you again.

“It’s all dirty things if that helps.”

Mike nods slowly, lips trailing from your mouth toward your neck. “Helps some.”

You tilt your head to give him better access and let out a little whine when you feel him bite down on a patch of skin just beneath the notch of your jaw, wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to rock into him because good god, you want him. 

Fingers tangling under his loosening bun, you tug him back to your mouth, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue between his teeth. He presses you closer with a hand on the small of your back, squeezing the air from your lungs so all you can breathe is him. 

“Mm, Mike, Mike,” you pant, barely breaking away only for him to chase after. You laugh, push his chest at the same time you gently tug at his hair, and he backs away just enough for you to get a good look at his half-lidded eyes and spit-slicked lips. 

Honestly, staring at him now, you can’t believe you made so long without ever making a pass at him. He’s gorgeous, built like a roman statue only larger, with sun-kissed skin and a startlingly light gaze that threatens to leave you boneless. 

“D’you wanna, maybe…” You swallow and blink up at him, too many questions suddenly invading your mind—is it too early for sex? Will he think you’re easy? What if it doesn’t actually work out? But, you bite the bullet anyway and finish, “Go to the bedroom?” 

Mike is silent for a few beats, leaving you to second guess yourself and brace for disappointment and embarrassment, but then he clicks his tongue and answers, “Uh, yeah. Yes, let’s do that,” in a voice a little higher than usual, and scoops you from the counter.

Every little house on the ranch is laid out the same, so it does not take him long to find your room. He sets you down at the threshold, and from there, it’s a flurry of discarded clothing and stumbling to the bed.

“How have we never done this before?” He huffs, crawling over you, leaving wet kisses in his wake. 

You’ve still got an arm covering your bare chest, but Mike doesn’t seem self-conscious in the slightest which comes as a surprise considering how reserved he typically is. Not that he has anything worth hiding—not the thin layer of hair that dances over his barrel chest, not the ridiculously cut abdominals or sharp ‘V’ of his hips, and definitely not the thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he moves. You would be intimidated if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but you’re sure that he’ll be gentle with you. Mike may be many things, but careless is not one of them.

He reaches your mouth, kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy, and as he does, he very slowly pulls your arm from your chest, leaving you vulnerable—free for the taking. 

His touch is soft enough to tickle as he brushes over one of your nipples, making you exhale against him and arch your back like a silent plea for more. He traces around the bud, makes it pebble before carefully rolling it between two fingers.

Warmth spills into your gut, makes you squirm on the bed, and a moan makes its way from your throat as Mike gently tugs at the sensitive flesh. He lowers his head again, lavishing the same kind of attention on your other nipple with his mouth. He nibbles and licks and sucks, and you wriggle and whimper beneath him, one hand trailing down his body until you’re able to close your fingers around the head of his cock. 

Mike grunts, thrusts into your hand a couple times, enough to make precum drool from his tip, but before he can get too carried away, he says just above a whisper, “Let me get you ready,” then moves to lay between your spread legs.

Sliding his arms under your thighs, he locks them into place, and you release a shaky breath, feeling his eyes taking you in for several seconds before licking up your slit once then pushing deeper.

“Oh, fu—”

Both your hands shoot downward, one gripping the messy bun at the back of his head as you shudder at the sensation of his beard against your pussy. You’re wet in seconds, core pulsing as Mike uses his tongue to slowly open you up, then pulls back to flick over your clit. 

“Mike—Mike—”

He hums into you, shaking his head slowly back and forth, no doubt making a mess of his face and you. You don’t have anything to say, just feel your throat tightening like there are unspoken words that need to come out, but you can’t think straight, not when he’s doing what he’s doing, not when you feel the tips of his fingers reaching out to spread your lips. 

He is thorough bordering on methodical, makes sure you’re at the point of full body shakes before he gives you a break, and then, when your breathing returns to a normal rate, he starts all over again. There is a tightness in your gut that builds and builds then dissipates every time he stops, and he must know because when you whine in frustration, Mike just grins and kisses the inside of your thighs. 

The same pattern is repeated with his fingers, just one at first, massaging your walls perfectly, then a second that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He rubs over the swelling tissue inside of you, seems to enjoy every little gasp and noise you make, including the unsatisfied one you let out when he pulls his fingers from you. 

You can feel how damp the bedspread is underneath you, can see the evidence of your arousal on Mike’s face, and it makes you flush but doesn’t stop you from tugging him down for another messy kiss. 

“You ready?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel, and you nod furiously, bending your knees and planting your feet on the mattress so that you can lift your hips to his. 

Mike chuckles, reaches down between the two of you to take hold of his length and taps your clit with his cockhead a couple times—simultaneously the most infuriating and most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Slowly, he lines himself up, just barely pushing forward, and when you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, Mike tells you to, “Breathe, baby, open up for me.”

He already sounds wrecked, like he’s fighting the urge to just sheathe himself entirely, but he waits, giving you one inch at a time with periods of adjustment in between. You always sort of figured he was big, but this burning stretch is something you hadn’t imagined even in your lewdest of fantasies. You’re incredibly full, feel him in your gut and throat and everywhere, but it isn’t bad; it’s just a lot. 

“Okay,” you stroke the forearm next to your head and nod. “Okay, you can start moving more.”

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

“About as sure as I can be with a monster cock inside m-me—” Your laugh turns to a moan as Mike begins to pull out, eyes trained on your face for any sign of real discomfort, but your mouth just drops open, your own eyebrows raising at the feeling of his length hitting every one of your most sensitive spots. 

“Holy…”

He pushes back in quickly, still mindful of what your body can take, and when all you do is cry his name and scratch down his back, Mike starts up a steady rhythm that has you seeing god. 

That tightness is back, hotter than before, threatening to burn you up entirely as your cunt flutters and spasms and leaks around Mike’s length. 

The sound of a hoarse groan makes you open your eyes, and you follow Mike’s line of vision to where you’re connected, see his cock sliding in and out of you, dripping slick and ringed in white cream toward the base. The sight makes you clench around him, and Mike swears under his breath then leans forward to gather you in his arms. Your head lolls back as he lifts you, sitting on his knees for just a second before falling onto his back and letting you drop onto him. 

You choke, and Mike pants, but his hands are tight at your hips, moving you up and down his length like a sleeve. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, hair nearly entirely out of its tie, bottom row of teeth exposed as his jaw slides almost primally. 

He looks completely lost in you, possessed as he fucks up into your pussy rougher than before. You bounce in his lap, whimpering his name with every thrust, growing in volume when you feel a finger press against your clit. 

“You gonna come for me?” Mike grits out, rubbing a circle over the swollen bundle as his eyes flick from your chest to your face. 

You nod, ignoring the burning in your thighs in favor of the sensation between your hips. “Yeah, I—I—Fuck, Mike—”

“Come on, baby, come on—wanted to see this for years, come all over my cock…”

You snap, legs shaking as your climax crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around Mike, coating him in more of your juices and making him groan and fuck you through it. You whine at the stimulation, swollen walls so sensitive yet taking everything he has to give you.

Every thrust to your g-spot makes you gush a little more, come a little longer, until all you can do is fall onto his chest and let him use you as he needs to. You leave marks on his pecs, bites and scratches, and Mike grunts at every one of them until he sits up and flips you once again.

“Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you babble.

Mike inhales sharply then lets out a long groan as he pulls out and shoots his load onto your stomach. It’s warm and thick, some pooling in your belly button as Mike makes a trail down to your clit where he smears the last few drops. You twitch at the contact, hole clenching around nothing now, but you can already feel soreness settling into your muscles. 

Mike gives you two little pecks on the mouth, then one last, longer kiss before rolling to lay on the mattress beside you, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

This silence doesn’t bother you. It gives you time to come back to your senses, to reflect, to remember everything that was said which leads you to ask, “You meant that—about wanting this for years?”

Mike turns his head and smiles so sincerely it almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“Well, yeah. Been in love with you pretty much since I started at the park.”

He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is, but it still makes your breath catch. 

“Seriously?” You turn to lay on your side, and Mike mimics the action, propping his head up with one hand while he lets the other settle on your waist. 

He lifts an eyebrow and questions, “Is that so hard to believe?” 

“No, I just… Thought it was one-sided on my end, I guess. Like, we were too good of friends.” Mike leans forward to gently headbutt you, and you snort to yourself, “Guess I was wrong.”

“We were both being stupid,” he mumbles. “But, we were also focused on other things, married to the job or whatever.”

Lifting your face makes him lift his, and you smile into another kiss, feeling happier and more balanced than you have in a very long time. 

Without much more discussion, you and Mike get up to rinse off, sharing more soft touches under the spray of the shower before crawling into bed together. Falling asleep feels like coming home.

You don’t even mind the smug grin on Nanaba’s face when she sees you and Mike leave your house together in the morning, nor the teasing jabs Gelgar throws your way over lunch. You don’t know if anything is capable of knocking you out of your perfect, peaceful little world on this perfect, peaceful little homestead.

Except maybe a supereruption, of course. 

E - D A Y 

It happens right in the middle of the morning news. You and Mike are sipping on coffee, expecting the same report you’ve gotten every day— “Nothing yet, closely monitoring, blah blah”—but as the English news anchor tries to introduce the meteorologist, he stops, holds a hand to the speaker in his ear, then looks at the camera with wide yes. 

“I’m—I’m getting news that the Yellowstone supervolcano has just begun to erupt, we’re cutting to the US address at Washington D.C. now—”

And just like that, Levi’s face is suddenly on screen, picking him up mid-sentence. 

“... One vent open at the present time, but more will open shortly. Stay indoors, ration your food. This is what we’ve been preparing for.” He looks tired, and when you do the math, you understand why: seven AM in Norway is one AM in D.C., meaning Levi was probably woken up to make the announcement. 

As always, you can make out Erwin’s figure behind him, hands clasped tight and shaking, and it isn’t until Mike puts a hand on your shoulder that you realize you are trembling right along with your old boss.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he reassures you. “We’re gonna be okay here.”

You nod and let him pull you closer to him as both of you look back to the screen and listen to what your old colleagues have to say.

The news stays on for the rest of the day. At around ten, the second vent opens up. Then another. Then another. Levi keeps track, expression never betraying the fear he must be feeling, even when he delivers the message that a full ring around the caldera has opened up. 

“Obviously, we can’t get in close enough to look, but we estimate at least two thousand four hundred and fifty cubic kilometers of eruptible magma will pour from the volcano. That’s the size of the eruption from around two million years ago, but it could be worse with the current number of vents…”

The journalists on site, usually so ready to ask questions and challenge Levi, are silent today, and you imagine they’re staring with eyes the size of saucers, not quite believing what they’re hearing because it’s happening. It’s finally happening. 

You eat a quiet, solemn lunch at Nanaba and Gelgar’s, no one knowing what to say. You feel nauseous, stunned, not unlike losing a loved one. You’re able to forget the absolute destruction taking place in the states for a few minutes at a time, but it always comes back to you, punching you in the gut with the same, brute force every time.

The park. The lab. The forests. The towns. Cities, states, homes, lives, all wiped off the map. 

Erwin takes Levi’s place as public speaker close to five, probably to let the other man get some sleep, and reports that the portable seismogram, still linked to the remaining seismographs located around the park, show that there are near continuous earthquakes taking place, “Which could either help should enough earth shift to block the magma chamber, or make things worse by disrupting it further.”

“E is not very good at keeping people’s hopes up,” you mutter, and Mike chuckles.

“Yeah, I see why he makes Levi do all the talking now.”

You both receive texts from the rest of the team, Levi’s coming at an appropriate time but the others reaching you at odd hours of the night when you’re nestled in Mike’s arms.

Neither of you sleep as reality sets in the rest of the way. That was it. The beginning of the end of everything you know. Everything is about to change.

You sniff, try to be as quiet as possible as the tears you’ve been holding back all day finally begin to fall, but Mike knows, feels your body stiffen as you curl into yourself. 

He hugs you close to him but doesn’t say anything, just rests his cheek against yours and holds your hand. 

There’s nothing anyone can say to make this better, no amount of optimism or determination that will make this any easier. Your home is covered in miles of pyroclastic flow, and as it hasn’t stopped yet, you know this is just the start. Soon, anything left alive will be suffocated by the tephra, people, animals, and vegetation alike. Though you won’t die where you are, everyone at the ranch will be feeling the effects soon enough.

Your mother calls from France where her and your dad decided to “vacation” for the next several years. She’s worked up about not being able to get through to you for almost an entire day, and even as you reassure her that you’re mostly fine, she hears the way your voice cracks and offers to fly to Norway.

“Mom, the airports are shut down by now,” you sigh. “We already talked about this. We can’t see each other for a while, but we’ll FaceTime until we can’t anymore.” Until the cell towers are knocked out, you don’t say.

“I just know my baby girl is hurting right now. I know how much you loved—”

“I know,” you cut her off, scared that hearing it from her mouth will just make you lose it again. “I know, but I’m okay here with Mike and everyone else.”

“You’re sure?” She sniffles, sounding a lot like you. “Cause your father and I will find a way to get to you if you need us.”

“I’m sure, Mom,” you tell her with a sad smile she can’t see. “Get some rest, okay?”

You share many calls like that, many ill-timed text messages until the eruption finally comes to an end six days later. The damage it’s done is incalculable—the entirety of the United states now covered in a cloud of ash that blocks out the sun. 

It doesn’t reach you for a few days, but every time you go outside, Mike sniffs the air and mumbles something like, “Smells like sulfur,” or “It’s getting closer”, but after another week, the entire globe is covered. 

1  M O N T H  A F T E R

Everything is an estimation. Everyone knows that a massive amount of magma erupted, but they don’t know how much. Everyone knows that a large number of people have died, but they don’t know how many. There are too many mysteries, and it’s nowhere near safe enough to send search crews out. 

Despite all the warnings, people are still trying to go outside—to see the ash, to review the damage, but even with cloth or medical grade masks, they’re breathing in the dangerous particles floating in the air, tiny minerals that turn to a cement-like substance in their lungs, and because of that, the death count is only rising. 

News reports cut in and out, as do phone calls. Some texts never get sent or received, so all you truly have is your little home and Mike. 

And, you cry, and you mourn, and you miss your friends and family—fuck, you don’t even know how you’ll survive so long without them—but you also revel in the fact that you’re safe. Not everyone can say that. The fact that you had almost willingly stayed in the most dangerous zone of the explosion is laughable now. There’s no way you and Erwin would have survived that, something he agrees with you on when you share a short phone call with him just to check how he and Levi are doing. 

They’ll be staying at the Homeland Security compound for the forseeable future, but he assures you they’re well-prepared to brave the years-long gray storm. 

Without any livestock to take care of, or mouths to feed other than yours and Mike’s, you find yourself with an abundance of free time. You still have power thanks to the solar panels and the couple of windmills set up around the ranch, but you don’t know how long that will last. 

You both read a lot, do puzzles together, fall into bed both out of desire and just because there’s not much better to do.

And, that part of your apocalyptic life is kind of great. Mike is great. He takes care of you both in and out of the bedroom, is gentle with you until you tell him not to be, and then he’s more than happy to succumb to your needs. He’d invested in a frankly absurd amount of condoms before the eruption so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out every time, but every once in a while you want him like you had him the first time—desperate and passionate and completely raw. 

That’s the feeling you’re experiencing tonight, staring at Mike from your place on the couch rather than at the book in your hands.

You see him smile before he actually looks at you, but when he does, he has a glint in his eyes you’ve gotten very familiar with over the last month. 

“Need something, baby?”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too bashfully and glance back down at the open pages on your lap. “Nuh uh.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“Really?” Mike puts down the wildlife magazine he’s perusing and leans closer to you. “’Cause it looks like you might want something.”

You cross your legs, flip a page you haven’t even read, and shake your head. 

It’s a dumb game you’ve both started to play, who can hold out the longest. Of course, the longest record is one you both hold—four years and some odd months—but other than that, you usually make it two or three days at most.

But it’s hard with him walking around looking like he does, and for someone so quiet, Mike is mischievous and handsy, knowing just how to rile you up only to walk away and leave you to whatever you were doing before. He whispers in your ear, he grabs your ass, sometimes he’ll just stand right behind you in the kitchen and inhale, trace his nose up your neck so that you shiver and break out in goosebumps, then mumble a shameless, “You smell nice.”

He’s troublingly good at driving you crazy, and you realize this is why it took you so long to actually get together. You can’t imagine being this wound up and wanton in the lab with everyone there to see. 

“You know,” Mike speaks again. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as he leans back against the cushions and nonchalantly kicks an ankle over his thigh. “A lot of people are dying. Like, thousands. Millions.”

Frowning, you nod. “Uh, yeah. Worldwide disaster taking place.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he adds. His lips twitch upward for a second before he purses them, waiting for another couple seconds then stating, “Should probably start thinking about… Efforts to repopulate.”

Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side in disbelief, a short, incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mike Zacharias!” 

Reaching behind you, you grab a throw pillow and launch it at him. Mike shields himself easily, choking and chuckling as he tries to defend himself, “I’m just—saying! It’s something to keep in mind!”

“Trying to guilt me into sex—” You smack his forearms with the pillow again, “As if I’m not already easy for you—" smack, smack, “—by bringing up all the people dying out there. What is the matter with you?”

He gets a hold of the pillow and rips it from your hands then hugs it to his chest and stares at you with that uncharacteristically devious look. “Is it working?”

You scoff at him, gently kick at his thigh in one last act of defiance before responding, “I mean, kinda.”

And, that’s all he needs to hear before he’s throwing himself at you, pinning you to the couch even as you giggle and squirm, ridding you of the comfortable clothes you have on so that he can kiss and lick every part of you he can reach. He acts like he’s hungry for you, and you have to use all your strength to shove him off of you just so that you can work his pants off and return the favor. 

Mike is all grunts and curses as you work him over with your tongue, a hand on the back of your head heavy but not pressuring. He trembles as you take him deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat and sliding just a little further. 

It always hurts your jaw, leaves it sore for a full twenty-four hours at least, but the way his jaw drops and his hands ball into fists make it worth it. 

You use one hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, the other settling between your own thighs to get you to where you need to be, and only when Mike is panting and you’re dripping slick into your curled palm do you pull off of him.

He helps you into his lap, lets you take your time sliding down his length, because even after as much practice as you’ve had, it hasn’t exactly gotten easier. He’s still massive, and you still have to will yourself to relax around him, but once your muscles have loosened enough, you begin to rock your hips. 

Mike lets you use him like that for a few minutes, knows he’s at the perfect angle to rub over your g-spot, so he just watches and leans forward to place teasing kisses around your open mouth. 

“Feel good, baby?” His voice drips like honey as he grips onto you to aid in your movement. 

Nodding, you dig your nails into his shoulders, then shift to start moving up and down his length. Mike takes it as his cue to take over completely, strong enough to lift and drop you as he pleases, and you both fall into a frenzy of motion, desperate to get off, to get each other off, to share that euphoria. 

“Do you actually want to?” You ask in a daze.

Mike cracks his eyes open to ask, “What?” and slows down enough to give you enough breathing room to speak. “Do I wanna what?”

Making lazy air quotes with your fingers, you mimic his deep voice, “Repopulate,” then elaborate, “Have kids. Do you want that?” 

Everything stops. Your hips still, as do Mike’s, and he stares at you, the lusty haze of his gaze clearing as he processes what you’re asking. 

Feeling completely exposed, you try to rationalize, “I know, I know, we’ve only been doing this for, like, a month, and it’s kind of a terrible time to actually bring new life into the world, but if I’m gonna do it with anyone—”

Mike fists both hands in the hair at the back of your head, pulls you to him to smash your lips together. When he starts bouncing you again, your muffled moan is still loud in the small living room, and Mike’s voice comes out somewhere between desperate and destroyed when he tells you, “Yeah, I want kids. Want you to have my kids.”

“Okay,” you breathe, matching his rhythm, then again, “Okay.”

A switch seems to flip in Mike’s head. You watch and experience him devolve into someone—something—primal. He fucks you like he never has before, long hair hanging in his face, lip caught between his teeth as he groans around it, pistoning into you quick and rough.

“You want it?” He growls, pausing to suck a mark at the swell of your breast. “You want me to come in this pussy?”

Your heart stutters, jaw dropping slightly because Mike isn’t a vulgar man, never has been, but now, the way he’s looking up at you with wild eyes, you know all he needs is the right push, and he’ll lose it completely. 

“Yeah, fuck, want you to fill me up, please,” you whine.

Your world tilts as he tosses you long ways on the couch, sliding back into you with ease and demanding, “Touch yourself.”

You grin slyly, “What, don’t have the focus?”

“Not really,” he admits, flicking sweaty hair from his eyes. 

Two of your fingers find your clit, massaging it the way you always do when you’re desperate for an orgasm. It makes you clamp tighter around Mike, and you tell him again—beg for him— “Please, baby, want you so bad.”

He comes quicker than usual, shooting line after line deep inside of you until it starts dripping out around his cock. 

He can’t stay inside you for long, unable to take the way you keep clenching and twitching from your own ministrations, so Mike pulls out and shimmies down your body so that his face is just above your cunt. At first, he just stares (like always), admiring your swollen folds and how messy you are, but soon he pushes a finger into you, attaching his mouth to your clit shortly after.

It doesn’t take you long. The thought of him fingerfucking his cum further into you paired with the actual sensation of it sends you over the edge within a few minutes, and the two of you are left sweaty and panting, too drunk off each other to really think about the gravity of what you’ve just done but enjoying it all the same. 

The feeling eventually returns to your legs, some of the fog in your brain dissipating as you run your hand through Mike’s hair, and when you find that you can, you voice, “Can we even handle a kid? Or like… Can a kid handle the world as it is?”

“Kids are weirdly resilient,” Mike speaks, face pressed against your stomach so that you can feel the vibrations. “And, maybe there’ll eventually be a race of super babies or something—have enhanced lungs to deal with ash. Darkvision and shit.”

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

He retaliates by blowing a raspberry just above your belly-button, grins lopsidedly when you squeal. 

“But really, our kids’ll be fine. Volcanologist for a mom and an Eagle Scout for a dad? Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Oh my god, you were actually in Boy Scouts? Does Levi know?”

Mike makes a little ‘pft’ sound and shoots you an unimpressed look. “Of course not. Like, I’d ever let that tiny, tiny man be right about anything.”

Your laugh is so deep and genuine, it makes your whole body shake. Mike raises his head to keep it from bouncing so much, but you can feel him staring for the duration of your giggle fit. Even through squinted, teary eyes, you can see his gaze is full of adoration, and you figure having two parents who love each other as much as the two of you do will at least make the hard life ahead of you a little easier for a child. 

4  Y E A R S  A F T E R

Heavy snow falls outside, adding to the thick layers on the ground and clouding the window you’re staring out of. The carrier is nicely heated, ensuring you and its other two occupants stay toasty as you keep eye out for incoming headlights. 

“Think that’s them,” Mike says, and you swivel to look out his driver’s side window to see two dull beams of light growing brighter and brighter. 

“Don’t know who else it would be,” you joke. “No one else is dumb enough to come back to this place.”

The only sign of your husband raising his eyebrows is the way his hat shifts slightly. “You’re right about that.”

Cinching fur-lined hoods tighter, you both slide out of the tram, boots crunching on ice and snow when you land on the ground. Mike circles to your side, opens the back door, then unbuckles and collects what looks to be a bundle of jackets in his arms. Two light eyes peer out between a beanie and a face mask, gloved hands reaching out and grabbing for you. 

“You want Mama?” Mike coos before passing your son to you.

You settle him on your hip, rub his shielded nose with yours, hoping your body heat will help keep him warm out here.

It’s been winter for… Years, now, the ash from the eruption having behaved exactly as you thought it would, blocking out the sun, and sending the planet hurtling into another ice age. It was something not everyone was prepared for—the intense cold, the food and water shortage, the isolation, but you were lucky. You had everything you needed.

The other snow vehicle stops a ways off, lights left on as two figures jump out, recognizable even when completely covered up. One is nearly as tall as Mike, the other considerably smaller even up close. 

Pulling his mask down, Erwin shows a brilliant smile as he stops in front of you and Mike, and Levi immediately protests— “Oi, cover your mouth, old man! You need it for more than just talking shit.”

Mike laughs, but still reprimands the other man with a pointed, “Levi,” and a nod toward the little boy you’re holding. 

“Fuck—I mean…” Levi takes in a deep breath then apologizes over the whistling wind and falling snow, “Sorry, Huck.”

Bouncing him on your hip, you peer at your son and prompt, “Huckleberry, you remember Levi and Erwin from the computer?” 

Though your team has seen him many times on Zoom and FaceTime, this is first time Huck is meeting any of them in the flesh.

Your son looks between them for a while, quiet as he sizes up both of the men, then he reaches out for Levi the same way he had for you just moments before. Levi makes a dissatisfied noise but still takes him from you, and once Huck is passed off, you shuffle to Erwin and wrap your arms around him, breathing into his chest and warming your face. 

Your boss squeezes you tightly, mutters a low, “I know, I missed you too.”

It isn’t enough to drown out Levi’s sing-song baby voice, and both you and Erwin glance over to find him with his forehead pressed to Huck’s as he teases, “Can’t believe your parents named you after a volcanic eruption. That was pretty dumb, right?”

Mike glides over, places one hand on Huck’s head and the other on Levi’s, then sighs. “Please don’t criticize my wife’s terrible taste in nam—”

“Hey! You agreed to it,” you shout, taking the little boy back from Levi and glaring at both the smiling men. “Better shut up before you give him a complex. He can understand things, you know. He’s three.”

“Huckleberry Pine Zacharias,” Levi scoffs. “I cannot stand you guys.”

“I think it’s a great name,” Erwin interjects, lightly tapping Huck’s nose under his mask. 

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

“Obviously, if I married a little gremlin like you,” Erwin drawls easily, leaning into the punch that Levi throws into his arm.

“Anyway, we’re here for a reason, right? Other than freezing our asses off?”

“Yeah,” Mike nods, kicking at the snow on the ground like it’ll make a difference. 

All of you know that buried beneath all the white is dried pyroclast, but under that… 

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

“How do we even go about rebuilding?” Mike is the first to ask.

Erwin stares at his own feet, face scrunched up in thought for a while before looking back up and stating, “From the bottom. Everything starts with a good foundation.”

Levi just scoffs, but you and Mike lock eyes and share a hidden grin. 

You take Huck back from Levi, leaning in for a side hug as you do, then suggest to everyone, “Well, then, now that we’ve seen a little of what we’re working with, we should head back to the shelter and start making a plan.”

“Yeah,” Levi agrees. “Gotta start getting ready for the next eruption due in seven hundred thousand years, right?”

“Right.”

After splitting back up into the two separate carriers, Mike follows closely behind the other in order to make it to their newly built bunker without getting lost. It’s perpetually dark from the never ending snow and cloud coverage, hazardous even with the vehicle’s tracks, but you can’t find it in yourself to be scared. Not now, not when life finally feels to be returning to something close to normal. 

[mae-gi-writes]

My Heart Beats | Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Synopsis:

You're dying, all because of the love that Seo Changbin has for someone else.

Genre: hanahaki au! Lots of angst, little fluff, Chan is a good wingman. Happy ending! 

----

There was a lot of coughing, at first.

You weren't exactly sure why your throat scratched so badly that it burned like it was on fire, only downed a few cough drops with the hope that it'd go away after a few days. You told yourself that maybe if you waited it out long enough, it would go away by itself and you wouldn't spend nights lying in bed, practically curling in on yourself as you tried to keep the coughing to a minimum.

It didn't get better.

Of course, the first few times you'd cough into your sleeve, your close friend and classmate Changbin would ask you if you were sick -- with that disgruntled frown that only you could decipher as concern -- but you had merely shaken your head then before batting away his worries with a brush of your fingers.

It had escaped your notice, how your throat clamped up whenever he was close by, how you would suddenly erupt whenever he would play with your hair or brush some dust off your shoulder.

"Seriously Y/N, go see a doctor or something," he said one day after your Photograohy seminar where you had spent three quarters of it muffling your coughs. That had garnered you numerous dirty looks from your classmates, "maybe you're developing an allergy."

"It doesn't come all the time," you replied breathlessly while plastering a smile on your face.

He wasn't convinced.

And then, when you stumbled upon him in the cafeteria sitting across from a girl you'd seldom met before, that had been the last straw.

You had barely managed to make it to the toilet, hand cupped against your mouth and running like your life depended on it, stumbling into the nearest stall to empty the contents of your stomach.

Only, it wasn't.

You watched, horrified, as blood poured out of your mouth like a gushing waterfall filled with bits and pieces of broken branches, plant stems, petals. You couldn't tear your eyes away from it no matter how much you tried, chest heaving and breaths ragged as you gazed at the mess in the toilet bowl with the slow realization sinking into you.

Hanahaki.

You were dying. You were dying because plants were now growing into your heart, taking over your lungs and your body.

That was when you got a second realization:

That you were in love with Seo Changbin. And he was clearly in love with someone else. 

------

"Long time no see.” 

You jolted from your seat, head whipping up and partly expecting to see the said raven-haired man that you had been avoiding most week to be standing there with a scowl on his face. Instead, you were genuinely surprised to find one of his closest friends instead. 

Chan looked down at you with furrowed brows and from the way his eyes skimmed over your features, you guessed he was seeing the side effects of the hanahaki just as much as you were, “jesus, Y/N. Are you sick or something?” 

“Bad cold,” you faked a laugh, quickly scrambling to cover the book title currently spread open for him to see, but Chan hd quick reflexes, arm sneaking underneath yours to yank the said book out of your arms and ignoring your protests. 

He read the title once, twice. Flipped a few pages, frown growing so deep on his face that his eyebrows were practically kissing at the centre, and you were about to make a joke out of it -- to make light of the situation -- when his eyes snapped back up to you. And what you saw in them caused all jokes to die upon your tongue.

“What is this, Y/N?” 

You tried to ignore the shakiness in his alto, or the emotion blazing through his dark irises. Your chest hurt with that same familiar ache you had grown accustomed to over the days, causing you to look away as you murmured out your reply: 

"What it says it is.” 

It was useless to lie. Chan was sharp. There’d be no use lying to him.

He sucked in a breath and you quickly scrambled out, “don’t tell Changbin.” 

Brown orbs boring into yours for a few seconds too long, you forced yourself to return his gaze with a pleading look of your own, and it seemed like he figured it out for himself for he merely dropped his eyes before looking away. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he murmured,��“It’s Changbin.” 

Your head bowed. Your silence said everything. His breath hitched, grasping your shoulder so that you turned to face the wetness of his eyes as tears brimmed at the corners, “stop it. You can stop it right? There’s got to be a cure for that now.” 

Oh, how it would be wonderful to believe there was even a cure. But the only solution was surgery and even that came with its risks. Plus, extracting the hanahaki from your heart meant to erase Changbin altogether from your life and as much as it killed you literally to be existing in this state every single day, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind all the memories that you and Changbin had built together. 

Thankfully, Chan wasn’t forceful in his argument when you pleaded that you felt more comfortable dealing with this alone. He did, however, constantly check up on you on days where you looked especially gaunt, when the pouches under your eyes were so blue he feared that they would swallow up your whole face, or when he noticed how you left your lunch untouched, opting to sip silently on your soy milk instead. 

“Who is she?” You had asked once, your soprano barely above a raspy whisper, as your eyes trailed over Changbin’s figure leaning in towards what the girl was saying. 

“Her name’s Yoreum,” Chan had mumbled through mouthfuls of his meat sandwich, “apparently she’s a transfer student from Japan, and very interested in Changbin.” 

“Good for him, I guess,” you mumbled. 

A minute later, you excused yourself to the bathroom, palm halting the trickle of blood from your lips.

You weren’t exactly certain how this disease worked. Was it due to your inner feelings? Or did it depend on Changbin’s? Or both? The books you read had told you endless tales of varying consequences and different situations, which didn’t help the matter in the least. In fact, it left you even more in the dark, if that was possible. 

You knew that it would be impossible to avoid Seo Changbin forever for once he set his mind to something, it was a force not to be reckoned with. You had kept up a stream of excuses about being sickly and that it was exams season. But all your efforts were futile after a few weeks when you spotted the said man standing at the front of your apartment complex, tapping his feet to keep the coldness of spring at bay. 

You had half a mind to run away, drop everything and just make a dash for it. But Changbin spotted you before you could do anything and he closed the gap between you two in less than three strides, quickly encapsulating you in a hug. 

Your breath hitched. The itch was back, your throat tingling like crazy. You paused for a few seconds and allowed his scent to overwhelm you, before pushing him away to cough into your sleeve. 

“Damn Y/N. Chan was right. You really are sick.” 

"Wha--" you tried to force the itch down your throat, "are you doing--"

Your body jerked as you felt it give way to the pain that twisted your torso in two and you turned away just in time to clamp a hane over your mouth as you coughed like there was no tomorrow.

Warm liquid splattered over your palm. The metallic stench of blood filled your nostrils.

"Y/N," Changbin made a move towards you, "are you--"

Holding up a hand, you felt him halt as another round of coughs ripped through your already-dry throat. You didn't realize that your legs gave out at some point until a pair of hands quickly grasped the back of your elbows, and though you wished to push him away, pain rippled through your body as you all but collapsed to the floor, blood and branches and petals splattering onto the ground.

You didn't have to look at his face to know that his body was tensed in shock, frozen as he took in the sight before him. Scrambling for words, they all died at the back of your throat when you glanced over at his clenched jaw, the slow reality that blooms through his dark pupils. 

Silence filled the air.

“What--” he choked up, “is this?” 

You opened your mouth to answer, closed it when you couldn’t find anything. Before you, Changbin’s fists curled, clenching at his sides as he surveyed the mess of blood and dried up flowers. 

"Tell me this is not what I think it is,” he whispered. 

Still, you said nothing.

“Tell me!” He bellowed. 

“Changbin, I--” another round of coughs made your body twist on itself as you struggled to answer him, maybe lie through your teeth even though it was too late, “I can explain--” 

“Explain what?! That you’re dying?!” he swivelled around with barely restrained anger and that made you flinch back, “you kept this from me?! Why?! Tell me Y/N--” 

But his shouts were drowned out by your endless coughing and heaving, leaning forward to choke out a few petals dripping with fresh blood onto the ground. Your mind was swirling with excuses, trying to come up with the stupidest reasons as to why your body was behaving this way and maybe telling him that it was all due to someone else who couldn’t love you back. But the more you tried to fight the urge to throw up, the more you kept on gagging on your own blood. 

Arms came around your middle to lift you up, Changbin’s scent surrounding your figure as he managed to haul you to your feet and half-carry you inside your flat. It wasn’t until your body was laid down on the couch that you managed to utter out a soft “thank you”, which sounded more like an apology than anything else.

Changbin grunted, momentarily going out of your peripheral and returning with a sac plastic, in case you had anything more to cough out, which warmed your heart despite the cold harsh truth lingering before your very eyes. A truth that you knew had to be verbalized, sooner or later.

“Who is it?” 

His question caught you off-guard. Glancing up, your throat constricted at the way he gazed back at you, eyes dark and glossy with emotion.

Dropping your head to the floor, you mumble out something incoherent. You wished he could drop it.

“Who is it?” he growled.

Your jaw clenched. There was no escaping him, nothing could salvage the situation. So you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, before finally looking up at the raven-haired man sitting opposite you. 

“It’s you.” 

His anger dissolved into shock. He stared you down, mouth parted, for a few seconds.

When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “what?” 

He was staring at you as if you had just grown out a second head. But as much as you felt like flinching away, you kept your eyes steady, even when they welled up with tears, even when they burned from the way you caught sight of his expression slowly crumbling as the realization sank into his bones.

“You’re joking,” he whispered mostly to himself as he shook his head, “no. It’s not--What? It can’t be me, unless--”

“I love you.” 

His eyes snapped back to you and your breath stilled in your throat. The buzzing silence in the air twisted, thick with tension and from the remnants of your words that echoed in the distance between your bodies.

“But--” Changbin opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. His frown deepened and his silence conveyed the inner conflict going on through his brain as you sat there with your world crumbling apart, wishing that he didn’t leave you for the last few days of your existence. 

You’d be gone all too soon. And then, and then life would go on. Changbin would go on. After all, he deserved to be loved by someone whom his heart desired. 

“I love you,” you repeated, the words breaking against your parted lips and tearing at your heart with every shaky inhale. You squeezed your eyes shut before burying your face into one of the couch pillows in hopes that this moment would just disappear, in hopes that this was all a well-constructed nightmare.

It felt like an eternity before you heard the rough alto of Changbin’s voice. It was choked, like he was having a hard time keeping himself together and though you wished to do something to ease his pain, you also knew that if you took a look at him, you’d crumble in seconds. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sentence echoed through your ears, pain tugging at your heartstrings with every second that passed.

Without looking at him, you answered in a whisper, “because it’s not your fault.” 

"Not my fault?” His voice rose in anger, “not my fault? How is this not my fault? You love me, you’re dying because you love me. How--Fuck Y/N! How the fuck am I supposed to live with that?! I--” 

“Please,” your broken soprano flies out between you like a needle that hits him straight in the heart, “please. Not now.” 

If there was any reason why you hadn’t wanted to tell the said man straight up about the hanahaki was exactly for that reason; you loathed the idea of having Changbin beat himself up for the feelings that tormented your heart. It wasn’t his fault, but knowing the kind of person that he was, you were certain he’d feel guilty about not returning your feelings. 

But that wasn’t what you wanted. Not just some half-hearted love. Not a love that got drawn out from pity. You didn’t want him to love you, if that meant that he lost himself in the process. 

All you wanted, prayed for, was his happiness.

And that wasn’t you, as harsh as that was of a pill to swallow.

------

You woke up the next day to find Changbin still on the couch, sleeping where you had left him last evening to hide in your bedroom. When you’d gently lulled him out of sleep, he’d proceeded to make some breakfast while chatting about the most random things and quite frankly, ignoring the elephant in the room. It came to the point where you had snapped and asked what were his true intentions. To which he answered, as though it was the simplest solution: 

“I’m spending some time with my best friend,” he’d glanced over at you from his breakfast plate filled with eggs and sausages, “isn’t that obvious?” 

“But--” 

“Y/N, you’re not the only one who cares about this relationship,” Changbin looked away, before looking back with tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes, “if I can’t change my heart, then I’ll change the way I spend my time.”

You tried again, “I don’t want your pity--”

“Unless you want me to feel guilty for the rest of my life.” 

“You’re..." you watched him, unsure of what exactly was going on inside that head of his. Sometimes, his logic didn’t add up.This was one of those times, “now you’re making me feel guilty.” 

“Do you not want me around?” 

It seemed that your condition might have shaken him up more than you initially thought. His presence had always been a constant and yet up until now, he’d been busier, schedules more packed with activities and socializing with his other course mates whenever he had blocks of free time. He’d lock himself in his studio alone whenever inspiration struck and though you had always respected his personal space, there was no denying that some part of you missed him deeply. But it wasn’t like you could tell him that, knowing that it would merely be selfish of you to do so.

“That’s not what I--”

“Thought so,” and he got up from the table, signalling that the conversation was a case closed and dusted before directing himself towards the sink. You’d only dipped your head back towards your plate, trying hard not to let the heat colour your cheeks the way it always did whenever you found your best friend attractive. It had been getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reacting, and now that your feelings were out in the open, you hoped that Changbin would play along and ignore them altogether. 

Now though, now was different. Changbin actively sought you out; in the library he’d bring you cappuccinos with almond milk and an extra coffee shot just as you liked before sitting down to ‘study’ opposite you, he’d call you up at the most random times to chill at your flat even if that meant basking in hours of comfortable silence while you worked side by side. He’d even drag you to the studio with him, adamant on making you listen through his countless tracks with excuses that he needed a second opinion.

"I have questionable taste. You of all people should know that,” you would argue whenever he’d fight to place the headphones over your ears. You let him though, enjoying the warmth of his figure whenever he leaned over yours to fiddle with the headset. 

“Exactly why I want you to listen,” Changbin’s voice was muffled and yet, the way his breaths brushed against your ear caused your stomach to tingle. 

You wished to believe that his attention was intentional, that it came to him as naturally as breathing. But you knew it wasn’t. Because as soon as he’d walk away from you, you had to rush to the nearest bathroom to cough up more and more flower stems ceremoniously. 

And it was okay, really. It was bearable. You were happy enough to have him for a little while, even though you knew it would last up until the day you closed your eyes for the last time.

Once, he’d invited you over to make sushi -- he’d claimed beforehand that he was a good sushi roller and that this was just an excuse to flaunt his skills -- and he’d dragged you out to the supermarket with him, threatening that you wouldn’t be getting any of the salmon if you didn’t. So you’d reluctantly followed, complaining along the way as you trailed after him like a five-year-old child. 

It was when you were in the middle of looking at the salmon that you were suddenly overtaken with that familiar burn in your throat. Doubling over and trying to breathe as evenly as possible, you turned away from the food display just in time to cough up blood in your palm.

Changbin was at your side in an instant, hands circling your middle while murmuring his concern in your ears while you tried forcing down the pain slowly brimming over your mouth. At this point, you hadn’t realized that your best friend had slid you into his arm while he’d yelled at everyone to get the fuck out of the way, not until you were met with the outside air and was suddenly slammed by a round of coughing that just wouldn’t stop. 

You felt Changbin’s hands against your back, stroking soft circles as you coughed and coughed and coughed. Blood splattered over your clothes, on the ground, dribbled down your chin in a stream filled with flower petals and stems that grated against your lips. 

The more you coughed, the more flowers appeared. You noticed tulips, roses, daisies as well now. Those were new, you thought bitterly as you heaved.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since, nor how you found yourself pressed against Changbin’s chest with your head tucked under his chin. He held you softly, tenderly, and you didn’t have the self-restraint to stop the silent tears from dribbling down your chin.

You loved him. 

You didn’t want to die.

“That’s a pretty big bouquet you just made,” came his soft murmur in the shell of your ear, causing a faint smile to twitch at your lips. Indeed, the array of flowers littering the ground would’ve been nothing less of beautiful, if not for the large amount of blood that you had just lost. 

“Changbin,” you breathed out weakly.

“Hm?” 

"I’m...” your head lolled against his neck when you tried to look up at him but failed, “I’m sorry.” 

His body stilled. Then, he said, “what for?” 

“For taking away your time,” your voice was thick with emotion.

“You’re not. I spend my time however I want,” his hold tightened, “if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.” 

Still. You felt bad. You opened your mouth to apologize once more, only for him to beat you to it by pressing a finger to your lips.

"Don't," he said, "apologize."

Fire had seeped from his finger to litter across your cheeks and you were glad that your face was hidden from view, for you were bound to be the colour of a fire engine, no doubt about that.

Later, when your heart had calmed and your throat had been soothed with hot chocolate, he'd pulled you out into the rooftop and proceeded to sit you down onto his jacket so that you could gaze out at the cityscape.

"Beautiful," you murmured and took a sip of your drink, allowing the warmth to spread through your limbs. Spring weather was ambiguous that way; sometimes cold, sometimes bearable.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

Changbin took a sip of his beer, "is there anything you'd like to do?"

"What do you mea--"

It dawned on you then. Oh.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

He angled his head towards you, "will you tell me?"

A smile graced your features, though you hoped he didn't notice how it didn't reach your eyes, "sure."

All you wanted though, all your yearned for, was for him.

Not that you'd ever tell him that.

A little later during that same week, you had taken the chance to ask him about the girl he loved. He'd brought you over to the Han River to show you how to skateboard and as you sat in the grass admiring the sun setting over the horizon, you decided to buckle up the courage and blurt out what was haunting your mind for days on end.

"What's her name?"

"Huh?" Changbin had looked at you like you'd really gone crazy then, before you prompted him with, "the girl you like. What's her name?"

He tried not to squirm in embarrassment, and failed as he averted his eyes, "i don't like her," you heard him mumble under his breath, "I just think she's cute."

"Yeah yeah. What's her name?"

"Why should I tell you?" He threw you a scowl, "so that you can make fun of me?"

"It's one of the things on my list."

"What list?"

"List of things I want to do," you propped your chin into your hands and grinned teasingly, "and that's asking you about the girl you like."

He let out an annoyed sigh, "Yoreum."

"Wah, pretty name. What's she like?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Why not?" You pouted, "I'll cheer you on even in spirit."

"Don't," he snapped back so suddenly, "talk like that."

Blinking at his sudden change in demeanour, you decided it was wiser to drop the subject altogether, lest it agitated him more. Changbin was known for his moody temperament but he'd been quite generous with you these past few weeks. Maybe because he knew that there was going to be an end. The thought caused another ache to reverberate through your chest and you looked away, not knowing on which foot to dance on for the rest of the night.

As you were walking back home, you felt his eyes constantly glance at the way you kept on blowing air into your hands,  "you cold?"

"Huh? Oh no, I--"

Too late, for his hand reached out to engulf yours, bringing it over to stuff it in his jacket. You stared at him for a full minute as your heart skipped a beat. What...was that?

It was cold. That's why. He was just trying to be a gentleman, your brain kept on reasoning with you. 

Your heart though, was saying otherwise. Maybe he likes you! Maybe he’s realized that--

You coughed. Once, twice. And then, you were falling to your knees as petals fell onto your shirt and dropped stained your clothes, your lap. Everything. Metallic rust engulfed your nose and you gratefully accepted the tissue that your best friend offered you. 

“You good?” his breath brushed against your cheek, concerned orbs ablaze. 

You wished you could get over him. You wished you could steer your heart away.

You nodded weakly, wiping away the remnants of blood and wishing that you could die right then and there from the embarrassment of being so openly weak and disgusting when he was around. 

But he merely grabbed the tissue from your hold and proceeded to wipe away at the corner of your lips. Your heart tugged in your chest, relishing in his gentle touches as you allowed yourself to bask in his attention. Even for a little while.

There was no way you could forget Seo Changbin. Even if you tried.

-----

"How are you really?” 

You rolled your eyes, a smile dancing across your lips as you exited the library with Chan in tow, “you’re such a worry-wuss.” 

“Hey, I’m asking out of concern,” Chan chides in that fatherly manner of his that always made you feel safe somehow, “I never see you around anymore because Changbin steals you away.” 

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” you reached out to ruffle his hair before he had the chance to duck away, “you’re still my secret favourite. But don’t tell Changbin that. Otherwise he’ll just sulk for days.” 

“You make it sound so tempting,” Chan wriggles his brows in a teasing manner while you strode towards the parking lot. It was a late Friday evening and you had planned to meet up at the nearest Burger joint with Changbin and some of the other boys whom you hadn’t seen in a while and it was no surprise that you had decided to take advantage of Chan a your driver for the night. 

“Who else is coming with us?” 

“Changbin said he’d come but you know how he is,” Chan re-adjusted his backpack over his shoulder, “maybe we should call him if he doesn’t show up by the time we get to the car.” 

Evidently, there was no sign of the said raven-haired man as you walked up to Chan’s red Mazda. That prompted you to call him, only to turn and spot his figure by the main flight of stairs with the girl you now knew as Yoreum.

You waited for that ache. For that burning sensation like alcohol was slipping down your throat, hands clenching around your phone. 

The pain was there, you could feel it under your tongue.

But you didn’t cough. Nothing pushed at the back of your trachea.

You blinked, perplexed for a moment. Maybe this wasn’t Yoreum after all? 

Or maybe Changbin was forcing himself to suppress his feelings. For your sake? 

That wouldn’t make sense. Changbin had said so himself. He wasn’t the kind of person to be forcing himself into situations. That’s what you loved the most about him, after all.

You tried not to ponder over it too much during dinner, hand unconsciously going to your chest and feeling your heart slowly beating under your clothed chest. Weird, you couldn’t help thinking. Why?

Maybe you were dying. Maybe you were going to die.

Or maybe...just maybe, you were slowly moving on.

Impossible.

"So are you dating her or not?” 

It was one of your friends-- Felix-- who brought you back to reality, blinking before realizing that the question was aimed at none other than the man whom had preoccupied your thoughts over the last hour.

Changbin leaned over, placing his elbows on the table as he sipped his beer, “we’re not dating.” 

“I thought you liked her,” Minho pointed out.

“Can we not talk about this now?” you would’ve missed the way Changbin’s dark orbs flickered over to you if you hadn’t been paying attention. But you did, and that hurt a little bit more than you liked to admit. You loved him, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to know nothing of his personal life either. 

Nevertheless, you decided that keeping your mouth shut would not hurt either, knowing that it might trigger some more coughing on your part. Nobody knew after all, that you were slowly being eaten away by plants growing in-between your lungs.

More oftentimes than not, Chan would urge you to go see a doctor, “just to see what the condition’s like,” he’d press you constantly, “you never know. Maybe it's getting better. Maybe you're getting better."

"There's only one explanation for that, Chan. And that would be that Changbin doesn't love Yoreum anymore," you smiled faintly, "and we both know that's not true."

Still, you couldn't help hoping that your condition was a sign that maybe you still had a chance at life. Part of you was curious as to whether there had been a change in Changbin's heart -- maybe even in yours -- but there was no denying the fact that it would be misplaced, especially in the context.

As you found yourself spending more and more time in Changbin's presence, you couldn't help but wonder whether he was pushing Yoreum aside just to accomodate you, and that thought was enough to make you feel guilty.

"Why don't you invite her?" You asked aloud once, when Changbin dragged you along for some bubble tea in the late hours of the evening. 

He’d stared at you silently for a solid minute. 

"Why would I do that?"

His question threw you off. You shot him a look as the said shop came into view, "isn't it obvious?"

"No."

You stopped in mid-walk, scowled at him, "I don't want you compromising your time."

"I'm not."

"But don't you want to spend time with her?"

At this point, his expression had morphed from confusion to infuriation and if you didn't know better, you'd say he was getting agitated.

He looked away, "I want to spend time with you."

Your heart stuttered, breath suddenly catching in your throat at his blunt statement. You hadn't expected him to be so forward about it, albeit the fact that he was merely speaking in terms of friendship. So you decided to drop the subject for now and kept on pondering it over in your head as you laid to rest that night. Knowing him, those set of words probably didn’t mean much. To you though? It meant everything.

You tried not to let your heart get ahead of yourself.

When it got warm enough, it was Changbin’s idea to drive you up to the coast when you had mentioned that you enjoyed listening to the sound of the ocean waves after a long, hard week. Especially after a long, hard week. It was no surprise that you were touched at his gesture, yet finding it bittersweet how he wasn’t exactly yours to lose even when he was right here, by your side. 

There was something nostalgic about knowing that your days were counted, and while you had been feeling a little bit better these past few days, your questions had been answered by the internet; that this was just the calm before the storm. 

In other words, there was more chance of you dying than living through that rare disease. 

“Say Changbin,” you spoke aloud when you descended from the car, a pack of beer tucked under your arm and a bag of snacks in his while making your way towards the golden beach glimmering in the afternoon sun. 

“Hm?” you felt his dark orbs on your face. 

You kept looking forward, feeling the sand slip through toes in bliss, “thank you,” you murmured, “for doing this.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then, replied, “don’t thank me. You make yourself sound like a charity case.” 

Isn’t that what I am? You couldn’t help but think to yourself with bitterness. Settling over a comfortable spot and curling your knees up to your chest, you gratefully accepted the cold beer that Changbin handed to you -- after he’d cracked it open like the gentleman that he was -- and let out a soft breath, eyes finding solace in the waves lapping up the shore.

“How’s your coughing?” he broke the comfortable silence.

“It’s actually not bad,” you started tracing circles with the tip of your index finger in the sand, the roughness of particles slightly stinging your skin, “I haven’t had a bad spell since that supermarket incident.” 

He hummed in response, took a sip of his beer, but didn’t say anything in response. The comfortable silence washed over you and you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of the sun prickling at your skin, at the scent of salt in the air with every wave that brushed forward with the current. 

This was the place to be. For a quiet, waking moment, you could imagine that your life was endless. That you’d live till the very end, die old and wrinkly and with a full stomach. 

Your fingers unconsciously clenched around your beer bottle. If only.

If only.

“I know why,” Changbin suddenly blurted out.

Your head swivelled towards him, eyebrow raised, “huh?” 

“I know why,” he hesitated, “why you’re not coughing as much anymore.” 

Something stirred in your chest as you stared him down, cogs already turning in your brain. What was he getting at? 

“I--” was it your imagination or were his cheeks redder than they had been a few minutes ago? You kept on staring him down as he struggled to find the right words, stumbled over them with the clumsiness of a five year old, “I--I realized something. Ever since.” 

“Ever since?” 

“Ever since you told me you loved me.” 

If he was blushing, then you had flushed the colour of a fire engine. God, why did he have to put it so bluntly? 

“What--”You swallowed thickly while turning away to gulp down some beer, if not to cool yourself down, “what did you realize?” 

And that was when you felt the warmth of his fingers ghost over your chin. He cupped it in his hold, turning your face over so that you had no choice but to clash eyes as he slowly traced over your features with a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. That only caused your confusion to grow by tenfold. 

“What?” You spluttered out, not really used to the closeness of his mouth that was hovering dangerously close. You hadn’t realized that his other hand had trailed down to your side until you felt him pull you a little closer, making your breath hitch slightly.

“Cha--Changbin? What--What are you doing?” You all but squeaked out. This was unknown territory. This was Changbin, and he...

He loved someone else.

So why was he cradling you in his hold as though you were the finest piece of silk that he feared would tear apart with the slightest brusque gesture?

And why, oh why was his orbs swimming with that unidentifiable emotion that made your stomach churn and butterflies to erupt through your middle and tickle at your abdomen? Why was he looking at you like that? Why? 

Your questions were soon interrupted by the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

It was warm, and soft, and tentative, and no sooner did you blink that it was over, leaving you to gape at him like a stupid fish out of the water. Changbin, meanwhile, kept on gazing at you, as if gauging your reaction.

The only thing that managed to make it out of your lips was, “What?”

He allowed his lips to respond in his stead. He kissed your next breath away. And the next. And the next. Until your heart almost leaped out of your chest, until your body felt like it was tingling with electricity all over and until you couldn’t help but kiss back slightly, jumping as he let out a soft noise of approval.

When you pulled apart for air, his dark pupils kept on darting back and forth between your eyes and your open mouth and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was resisting the urge to kiss you once more. 

“Changbin?” you whispered, “please tell me...” tears started brimming through your eyes, “please tell me this isn’t...just because--”

“No,” he looked horrified, “no, no Y/N. Of course not--”

“Then why are you doing this?” you were slowly pulling out of his grasp, reality crashing through you like waves, “why are you giving me hope when--when you love someone else--” 

“But that’s it, Y/N,” Changbin’s hands scrambled to find yours, “I don’t love anyone else. I--I thought I did. Maybe I did, because you wouldn’t have coughed so much if not. But then--Things changed, I don’t know. When you told me you were dying, it--it scared me. It scared me so fucking much, Y/N,” emotion clogged up his throat, eyes turning just as wet as yours. It wasn’t every day that you got to see Changbin without his walls up, “I didn’t--I don’t want to lose you. I tricked myself into believing I was into someone else. But when that--that happened, I--” he shook his head, eyes squeezing shut as though forcing himself to forget the pain etched into memory, “I realized I was just trying to run away from what I really wanted, all along.” 

He brought your hands up slowly to his lips before he pressed a soft, chaste kiss upon your knuckles, “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, “I never wanted to hurt you. Seeing you, so much blood. There was so much blood every time you--” 

He couldn’t help but burst into soft, broken sobs and your heart broke to watch him struggle to catch a hold of himself. Arms winding around him to pull him into your embrace, your hands went to stroke the back fo his head as the man in your arms cried like you’d never seen him cry before. It was a scene that literally tore your heart out and wrenched it sideways; to see Changbin in so much pain that he’d had to hold in whenever he was by your side and seeing you hurt. It pained you, it hurt you. So much so that tears silently cascaded down your cheeks, pressing yourself a little closer to him for comfort.

He calmed down after a while, slowly relaxing into your hold so that you were the one holding him close to your chest as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. The day was long gone, replaced by the evening hues of deep blue mixing in with vivid purple where the sun met the darkening sky, and though there was a slight chill in the air, Changbin’s strong arms looped around your waist did the trick to keep you warm.

“Don’t leave.” 

He called out your name and you hummed in response, awaiting for his next set of words while playing with his hair. The reality of the situation had slowly sunk onto your shoulders when you’d held him in your arms; that he loved you, loved you enough that you had stopped coughing altogether. 

His voice was laced with so much raw pain that your throat clogged up with emotion. 

“I won’t,” you murmured back, knowing that deep in your heart, you’d try your best to keep pushing forward, to keep loving him.

“Promise me,” he nuzzled his nose into your neck, the action causing your heart to flutter. Then, lifting himself up so that he was hovering above you once more, you couldn’t help but admire the way the moonlight bathed the planes of his face. He looked softer, more ethereal in that light.

Your fingers went up, cradling his cheek in your palm, “I promise.” 

And then he kissed you some more; a silent promise, a reassurance, a way to prove to you that he loved you just as much as you loved him, a way to show you that his heart only beat when you were around.

His heart would beat for you, just like yours did.

[glitterfairy-21225]

In which Peter has a child while stuck in the mcu: *takes deep breath*

He’s definitely living with Wanda post WV, so she’s there.

I don’t know a lot about inhumans but I know a little. Maybe Crystal is on earth for some reason, or the royal family just invites Wanda to the moon after learning about Westview b/c they want the tea, I guess. But Crystal and Peter meet.

They don’t get married, they don’t even officially date, so when Crystal announces she’s pregnant literally everyone is blindsided.

Wanda’s reaction is the best. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s her facial expressions as this is all going down. Her facial expressions.

Peter panics. Obviously. He runs around frantically with no rhyme or reason. He trashed his room. He’s screaming at a pitch only Crystal’s giant dog can hear.

He confides in Wanda about his piles of daddy issues, compounded by the fact that he never told his father the truth.... And also the fact that he was a terrorist.

But now it’s like, what happens if he goes back to his universe. He doesn’t want to to be an absentee father.

So he makes a difficult decision to stay in the mcu for the child. He still wants to go back to the x men to make sure his friends and family know he’s okay, but he wants to stay with his kid.

In the wake of his decision, Peter is high on emotion and decides that he needs to go the extra mile for this fatherhood schtick.

So he and Crystal elope.

Literally. Everyone. Thinks. This. Is. Questionable.

They’re divorced before she gives birth.

Not even a bitter divorce, just a ‘Ok, marriage at this point was probably a mistake.....’ divorce.

He and Wanda binge watch kids movies that came out from after he was taken from the x men.

Labor time!

Peter’s definitely a ping-pong whatever. When Crystal cries, he cries. When she screams, he screams.

But then Luna is born and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life, and he just can’t. He’s crying on his own behalf.

Crystal holds her first, and then Peter, and the first thing he says to her is with teary eyes, so loving, so tenderly, is ‘You are gonna piss so many people off,’ in the softest voice you can imagine.

When the rest of the family comes in to meet her, Peter turns on the Lion King music, which he saw in the binge, and holds her up.

Wanda gets to hold her next, and Peter’s all ‘Meet your Aunt Wanda, Luna!’ And it’s a moment, because yeah, Tommy and Billy called him uncle, and he’s made it clear he loves them as such, but that was when he was brainwashed, so this. This is such a moment for Wanda.

And Wanda misses her boys so much, but the amount of love she feels for this girl overwhelms her bad she really believes she’s not alone anymore.

Afterwards, the three of them (Peter, Wanda, and Luna) are all curled up on a hospital bed together. Like they would be if Peter was the one who gave birth, but instead they just stole a bed to cuddle on because they’re emotionally drained.

Crystal is giving them the side eye from the other bed like, *guys it’s my special day too.*

Peter looks down at his bundle of joy and decides to make a speech to her.

He takes a deep breath. ‘Luna Maximoff’ (‘We did not discuss last names, Peter!’) ‘Your father is.... the problem in every relationship he has ever had. Except for the ones with people who are bigots, those guys suck. And he’s gonna be problem in ours. But I promise you, even if I make a million mistakes, and I will, I will try my very best to make sure you are the one person in this family who’s life isn’t made up of one traumatic experience after the other. Because you are the love and light of my life.’

Awwww.

Oh and Wanda definitely has a himym moment where she looks back all the stupid stuff Peter has done and thinks, ‘That guys a dad now.’

Except her flashback was from that morning.

Of course, that doesn’t get rid of all his deep emotional baggage. And he’s so worried about messing Luna up that he’s a complete motherhen.

He rants to Wanda, ‘Let’s face it, you and I are both going to hell,’ Because even if he loves Wanda, he’s not gonna excuse what she did to Westview, and for himself he has self esteem issues. So Wanda is :000. But Peter just continues. ‘But I really don’t want that for her!’

Anyways, Wanda starts hearing her kids and that kicks off their next big adventure, with Peter reluctantly leaving Luna with her mom.

He writes her a final letter in case he dies so she knows he loves her very much. But don’t worry, Peter’s not gonna die, so this is just a character quirk for now. It’s always quirky until someone dies.

I know that the ‘X men see WandaVision broadcast’ thing should logically stop after episode seven, but for this we’re gonna say the broadcast showed the entire, actual show, with all the SWORD and Agatha stuff. And then it starts playing Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness! And there’s a flashback to Luna’s birth.

It’s been a few years, and the x men have already had a funeral for him, so seeing this is..... wow.

Raven’s long since spilled the beans to Erik about his son, and he’s not been taking it well.

So seeing that his son is not only alive and well, but that he also has a granddaughter, (and maybe even an au daughter) makes him cry in front of everyone.

Also, maybe the team was just a bit unappreciative of him, not enough for us to bash them, but enough to make them feel guilty. So seeing him thriving without them stirs up some emotions.

Also maybe he has an ex on the team, and it ended because Peter’s bad at handling things. For maximum feels.

They know from the broadcast that Peter plans to stay in the mcu with his daughter and that makes them all sad, but it’s a really good reason and they’re almost all sensible enough to accept this.... After a proper goodbye of course.

We’ll get back to Erik’s feelings in a sec.

They make a portal, and all go to the mcu to help out in the final fight. They reunite with Peter, who runs to get Luna, even though she’s not on earth, so that they can all meet her.

Erik holds Luna and goes ‘You will lead millions! Willingly or as slaves.’

It reminds him of holding Nina and he wishes he held Peter and it’s so special.

They say their goodbyes.

Meanwhile, Erik is conflicted, because his child (children) is staying in alternate universe and this is where his granddaughter is, so if he can’t convince them to come back to the x men verse then maybe the best thing he can do is move to the mcu.

But Charles a school to look after, so that leads a horrible question; Will Cherik have to break up again?

Doctor Strange just rolls his eyes and says fuck it, because reality is already messed up so why not? And he gives the Maximoffs a key to crossover whenever they want. And it only works for them.

So Luna has all the inhumans and all the x men loving her so much, with the best dad, aunt, and grandpas in both worlds.

And of course with the coolest cousins a girl could ask for!

[13uswntimagines]

Our Troublemaker (USWNT x Baby!reader)

Request: uswnt x reader where reader gets into some trouble at a pride event they all go to, when they get back to hotel reader is punished and then fluff and cuddles to end

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ for her addition of fluff and mediation of my crazy thoughts. So this universe can be taken several different ways, as i didn’t explicitly define it. Feel free to interpret it in your favorite context. Also, I would totally be down for continuing this universe... Hit me up with Questions, comments or if you just wanna say hi!

You hadn’t meant to start a fight. Well, that was a half-truth. You had totally meant to tell that ignorant ass that he was being a homophobic dishrag. What you hadn’t meant was for him to punch you in the face, and the team to get involved in defending you from his drunk ass. So here you were, being carried over Lindsey’s shoulder back towards your hotel. 

You wiggled again in a vain attempt to get her to put you down. “Come on Linds, I can walk,”

“Yeah, you couldn’t be trusted to stand with Mal for 5 seconds on your own, and you might have a concussion,” Alex answered for the blond, and sent you a glare that oozed “try me,”

 “I don’t have a concussion, and I couldn’t let him talk to Mal like that,” You pouted up at her raised eyebrow. It was tough considering you were over someone’s shoulder, but you managed. 

“Next time you wanna show off for your girlfriend, try not to pick a fight with a guy four times your size,” Kelley laughed, patting your lower back. You frowned. Mal wasn’t your girlfriend. Yet. 

“I didn’t think he would hit me,” You grumbled, flopping down, Lindsey gripped your legs harder so she didn’t drop you on your head. That was all you guys needed right now. 

“Well he did, so let’s get you back to the hotel trouble,” Alex said, pointing towards the building down the street. Lindsey nodded, swinging you around as she turned and began to walk that way again. 

“I’m not trouble,” you complained

“No it just follows you everywhere, and has earned you no ice cream tonight,” Kelley rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not Sonnett, ice cream isn’t the love of my life,” you said, trying to act like you weren't pouting. So maybe the team treated some of the youngins like they were a little younger than their age. You all loved it, and you craved the structure it brought to your life. 

“Wanna make it for the rest of the week?” Alex asked, with her signature eyebrow arch. You grumbled back a no, along with several inaudible complaints. You knew how creative the woman could be with her punishments and you really didn’t want to test her. Your face hurt and you really just wanted to bury your head under a pillow and scream. You had protected Mal, you shouldn’t be in trouble. 

Your pout was strong all the way to the hotel and up the elevator, not wavering at all until Lindsey set you down in the corner of Alex’s room. You tilted your head at the woman in confusion. 

“This isn’t my room.”

“No, it’s not. You get 10 minutes in the corner for putting yourself in danger,” Alex said, her arms crossed across her chest. 

“I didn’t put myself in danger. I just told that dude to lay off. We were in an outdoor bar, there were plenty of people around. I thought societal convention would trap that dude into not making a scene.”

“No, you got punched in the face and almost had a beer bottle smashed over your head to impress a girl who already has a massive crush on you,” Alex exclaimed. 

“She does?” You asked, eyes wide. 

“Not the point Y/n,” Kelley shook her head. 

“The fact is, you engaged with a drunk homophobe on your own. There are times to engage, and that was not one of them. Now sit!” Alex said, dragging a chair to the corner and pointing at it, “your time out starts now.”

You sat down wordlessly, staring down at your hands. You knew that there was no getting out of this one. One of them had a scrape on the palm from where you had landed on the gravel. 

The minutes seemed to drag by, and you fidgeted more and more with every passing second, picking at the cuts on your hands. 

There was a knock on the door. “Stay,” Alex commanded, looking at her watch, “you still have two minutes left.” Behind you, you heard someone go to the door and open it. 

“I got your text,” Becky’s voice came from the doorway. You slouched in your chair, partially from embarrassment, partially from relief. They hadn’t called the medics. And at least they hadn’t called Carli, she duct-taped an ice pack to you the last time you got a bruise. But still, you hated that more people would know that you had gotten yourself into trouble again. “I brought a first aid kit and an ice pack. Also some duct tape, in case she tries to escape.”

 You shook your head, not finding the comment funny. You weren’t going to try and escape, your face was throbbing by this point, and you would rather they took care of you then leave you to fend off Jill and Dawn by yourself.

Alex’s watch beeped three times, signaling the end to your time out. You sighed in relief. Sitting still was never your strongest suit. 

“Come sit on the bed, Y/N,” Becky said, pulling Lindsey’s comforter straight and opening up the first aid kit on one side of it. You blinked twice, staring at the spot. You never liked getting fixed by the medics, and Lindsey’s bed looked lonely. 

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.” You looked at Lindsey in confusion, as she started counting. “Three. Two One. That’s it.” Lindsey picked you up and sat down with you on the bed, situating you in her lap. 

You started to move and realized she had grabbed your hands and pulled them across your chest, essentially putting you in a human straightjacket. 

“Sit still and let Broon make sure you are alright you absolute badger of a human being. You are a great defender, on and off the field Y/n. But it won’t kill you to let someone else take care of you for once.”

You huffed and sunk down in Lindsey’s lap, finally stopping your struggle to get free. It was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not. 

Becky shined a flashlight in your eyes and wiped down a cut on your lip with an antiseptic wipe. You winced slightly. 

“Hand.” 

Lindsey let go of one of your arms so you could put your scraped palm into Becky’s outstretched hand. She wiped it down with gentle strokes, checking to make sure there wasn’t any gravel pieces still in it. 

She nodded at Lindsey who released you and pushed you lightly next to her on the bed. Becky stood up from her crouch, slapping her hands on her jeans as she did. She went over to the dresser where she had set a small bag of ice and brought it over to you as Kelley sat down on the other side of you. 

Alex picked up the chair you had spent your time out in and placed it in front of you, straddling the back of the chair and leaning on it’s back as she looked at you. “Do you understand why we’re upset with you Y/n?” While she spoke, Becky perched on the bed and folded her hands in her lap. 

“Yes, but I wasn’t going to let him hurt Mal,” You mumbled, playing with your fingers. Yes you had been reckless, and probably could have ended up in way worse shape, but you weren’t going to let him disrespect the two of you like that. Her like that. 

“Love, we are so proud of you for standing up like that. You shouldn’t have to deal with hatred from strangers for being who you are,” Becky started softly. 

 “But you are going to have to deal with a lot of it in your life. And we need you to promise you won’t confront someone like that alone.” Alex finished seriously. They would never be able to get the image of little you standing toe to toe with a 6-foot tall man out of their heads. 

“There’s a reason we’re called a team. We work together, back each other up. And strength in numbers is usually more convincing to the average asshole bully than a lone ranger. Let us defend you sometimes.” Kelley chimed in, nudging you with her elbow.

“And if you’re alone, walk away. It sucks, but it’s better to live another day than die on your sword. You can't win every battle, and the world is a much better place with you in it,” Lindsey said, squeezing you in a sideways hug.  

“Fine, I won’t provoke any more dishrags,” you said, in mock exasperation. 

Kelley snorted, and you saw Alex’s lips twitch slightly as she nodded, “Good.” You would always be their troublemaker, but at least they knew you would try. Even if it was only for a little while. 

You snuggled deeper into Lindsey and Kelley, smiling as Alex joined Kelley’s side. The room was quiet for a few minutes before you blurt out a sleepy “Do you think Mal will think I’m more badass now that I have a scar?” 

Becky laughed, standing to pack away her first aid things. “Oh yes, the most badass. Now if you’ll excuse me cuddle bug, I should get back to my room. I have my own troublemaker to attend to.” She walked to the doorway and paused turning back to you. “One more thing. Y/n? You have to spend the night in here for observation. Doctor’s orders.”

“Those are agreeable terms I guess,” You shrugged. That had been your plan anyway. 

“My cuddles are better than just agreeable,” Kelley huffed, bumping your cheek with her nose. 

“Of course they are squirrel,” Alex laughed, kissing her temple. 

Yes, you were a troublemaker, but you were their troublemaker. 

[caught-in-the-filter]

My Bad, Bad Devil, You Put the Angel in You

—an angel!Killian/demon!Emma AU PWP for CSSNS21

A/N: A huge shoutout and thank you to ultraluckycatnd for beta-ing this for me, and to the mods of @cssns for giving us another year of this event!

Heads up that this has some sacrilegious uses of Biblical references, and I totally understand and respect if that's a big nope for anyone for any reason. Most of my life, it would've been a nope for me too. I mean no attack or mockery or other ill intent toward Christianity/religion or anyone who practices any form of it.

I grew up in church but I've been questioning a lot for a long time now, and this sort of became my own little personal rebellion. (I guess writing smut in general has been, but this one is on another level.) I kind of have a love/hate relationship with this fic; it was fun when I started it, but then I got frustrated and stuck, and now I'm not sure how I feel about it anymore. And maybe I'll regret it in the future if I ever see the light again or something, but for now, I've resigned to the fact that if I'm gonna go to hell (if I even believe there is one anymore), then I might as well have a little fun with it while I can.

So if this is your thing, I hope you enjoy. If not, dl,dr, and no hard feelings.

Also, I know the title is a little long, but I couldn't resist the Doctor Who reference.

Rated: E; Words: 2904; AO3

——

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Emma purred, closing the distance between herself and the angel standing before her. With a flick of her wrist, she cast him back against the window and commanded the curtains to cross in front of him, spinning him so that he faced the glass before wrapping themselves around his wings and arms to restrain him.

“A daughter of the damned, getting in over her head?” Killian quipped, testing the hold of the thick cloth keeping him in place without fighting it.

“Mmm,” Emma hummed. Taking advantage of the fact that he hadn’t worn a shirt in favor of opening his wings, she reached around his waist and bent her arms upward so she could slowly rake her nails down his exposed chest. “You’re the one tied up, but I’m in over my head?” She twirled a few of his hairs around her finger and tugged, making him flinch.

“You make the mistake of thinking I’m not exactly where I want to be, love.” Killian glanced back at her with a devious smirk. “That is why you’re in over your head.”

“Oh, I know,” Emma smiled. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she lowered her hands and began to unlace his trousers. “I know you want to fall, don’t you?” She freed his hardening cock from its leather confines and slowly ran her hand back and forth along the length of him. “You want to rise and fall and lose yourself in the worst way.”

“With you?” Killian panted, already breathless under her sinfully skilled touch. “Hell yes.”

“Then you’re going to let them watch you fall from grace.” Emma gestured at the window in front of them, guiding Killian’s eyes to gaze out at the possibility of unwitting passersby spotting their activities, before taking him in hand once more. “You’re going to let them see you give all of yourself to a demon.” The guttural groan he made only spurred her on as she continued to pump him. “Unless you can’t handle it.”

Killian’s head fell back when Emma interrupted her stroking to grip his balls with a taunting squeeze, and he muttered under his breath, “God, forgive me,” as his eyes fluttered closed. Bucking his hips, he tried to coax her to go faster, “Yes, Emma, please yes,” but she smiled as she removed her hand and relished the whine that left his lips.

“An angel eager to sin.” She slipped her hands beneath the back of his trousers, kneading his ass for a moment before stripping off the leather, trailing kisses down his spine as she sank to the floor with the material. “Step.” With a tap to the backs of his knees, she removed the trousers completely and tossed them aside.

Emma ducked between Killian’s legs and twisted her body in one fluid motion so that she sat with her back to the window, greeted by his cock pointing right at her face.

“I want to taste you,” she said and lifted his cock so she could lick a slow stripe from base to head, swiping her tongue over the sensitive tip. Looking up at him from beneath her lashes, she cupped his ass and pulled him toward her as she took him into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat. The staccato sounds that left his lips convinced her to hold him there as long as she could, flexing her tongue along the length of him, until she had to lean back to take a breath.

“Delicious,” Emma sighed and took him in again, and again, this time guiding him back and forth, in and out, her tongue darting out to tease his balls with each plunge.

Killian panted her name amidst a slew of encouragements, lost in the way she licked and sucked and consumed him. Her grip on his ass tightened, and he bit back a moan when her finger made its way to the center and circled its find before dipping just barely inside.

“Ooh, sounds like you like that,” she parted from him long enough to tease, continuing her carefully intrigued prodding as she asked, “shall we sodomize an Angel of God?”

“It wouldn’t—” he gritted his teeth as she gave his cock a particularly strong suck, straining against the curtains holding him at her mercy, or lack thereof, “—wouldn’t be the first time, love.”

“Oh?” Emma raised an eyebrow at him, pausing for a moment before bringing him into her mouth once more, staring up into his eyes as he watched her intently.

“Aye. Though I much prefer to give than to receive.”

Of course you would, Emma thought, the pun of angelic nature not lost on her. She hummed her assent around him and sent a ripple of pleasure coursing through his body. 

It was too much and not enough. As Emma relentlessly devoured him, Killian fought against the material holding him back. With one forceful downward motion, he tore the curtains in half and freed himself as he sought his glorious ascension.

His fingers laced into her hair, and for once, he allowed himself to take. His frantic thrusts were met with surprised and hungry moans, the vibrations of which sent him soaring over the edge.

“Ohh fuck. Fuck,” he cried as he spilled himself down her throat. He felt it when she swallowed as he held her still and his cock continued to pulse.

“Such a dirty mouth for such a pure being,” Emma remarked as she caught her breath when he at last let her go. She got to her feet and stood facing him, using her tongue to trace the lines of the cross tattoo on his chest as she rose, and she yelped when he pulled her flush against him, his arms tight around her.

“Oh, it can be much, much dirtier,” he growled, making her gasp as he gave a harsh tug to her hair and attacked the exposed skin of her neck with sloppy kisses and less than gentle nips and searing hot breath. She arched up into him, and it was his turn to pin her against the glass. His hand and hook frantically tore at her blouse while his mouth continued its expert assault as it made its way to hers and along her jaw until he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Would you like that, demon?” he asked, slipping his hand beneath her waistband and trailing his lips down to the swell of her breasts. “Would you like my mouth on you where you’re warm and wet and wanting for me? Teasing you as you’ve done me, making you long for my cock as much as I long for the feel of you around me?”

Emma suddenly couldn’t find the words, too caught up in the thrill of hearing him, an angel, her angel, talk like that. Hoping to get the point across, she threaded her fingers through the haphazard locks on his head and shoved him to his knees.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” he grinned, holding her gaze as he lifted her incredibly short skirt and ran his thumb along the already soaked strip of lace she considered panties before pulling it down to her knees.

Emma leaned forward to allow the remnants of her blouse to fall to the floor before reaching for the support of the window once more as he canted her hips toward himself with the curve of his hook pressed to the small of her back.

Killian’s wing curled forward to assist with holding up the material of her skirt, the feathers tickling the top of her thigh, so he could focus his efforts on her aching core. Too eager to taste her, he wasted no time, choosing instead to start right with his mouth at her clit. She jumped at the unexpected jolt of pleasure, and he steadied her with his hand splayed against her inner thigh, inching his fingers toward her center.

“How can you be from Hell when you taste so divine, Emma?” he praised. “I could spend eternity quenching my deepest thirst between your legs.”

“Then shut up and quench it,” Emma barked. She didn’t really mean it, not completely. She loved his silver tongue, especially when he used it to talk dirty, but right now she craved him putting it to a different use.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” As he gave one more suck on her clit, Killian plunged two fingers inside her, soon increasing it to three as he stretched her and coaxed out more of her arousal onto his expertly explorative tongue.

“God, you’re so fucking good at that,” Emma sighed, tugging his hair as she rode his tongue and fingers, relishing the warm vibrations his pained groans and hungry moans ghosted over her sensitive skin.

“Oh no, love,” Killian said without relenting, looking up at her as he continued working her between words. “Don’t blaspheme. I’m not Him. I worship at your altar, Emma, and there’s no better place to be on my knees.”

“I like your Word better, anyway.” Emma’s head tipped back as her hips began to buck, but her moment of near bliss quickly turned into one of frustration. “No,” she gasped, shocked and almost offended as he pulled away with a smirk and stood to his feet, leaving her clenching on nothing and far from sated. “Come on, Killian, please! I thought you were all about giving! And how is this worship?”

“I meant what I said, love. I adore you, I do. But I am an angel, after all.” Killian chuckled. “We tend to enjoy when someone is brought to the edge before they’re granted their salvation. I need you begging for it.”

“Fucking tease,” Emma huffed, turning away from him with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Mmm,” Killian mused, “perhaps you are ready to receive more.” He nudged her legs apart with his own, a soft blow with the side of his foot kicking one out to the side, and Emma scrambled to reach her arms out in front of her for balance, her hands slipping on the window as her legs spread. Snaking his arms around her, he set his chin on her shoulder as he held her in his embrace and mused, “What do you think, love? Shall we bare you to them as I take you and show them what they can’t have, or should we keep this sinful skirt on and show them how eager you are to be ravished by an angel?”

“On, off, I don’t care which you’re into, just fuck me!”

“A bit of both then.” Killian pressed the side of his hook to her stomach and pulled her to him, holding her so that her back pressed against his chest. Lifting the front of her skirt, he handed her the bottom hem. “Hold this up for me, love.”

With a smirk, she took it between her teeth, stretching the waistband higher and pulling the material taut between her breasts as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder and winked at him.

“There’s a good girl.” He smiled and raised the bit between them with the tip of his hook, taking himself in hand. “You pretend you like to rebel, but you behave so well for me. Now, tell me what you want.”

“I said, I want you to fuck me,” Emma answered, slightly muffled by her skirt, frustratedly trying to swivel her hips in the hopes of getting him inside her.

He draped her skirt over his hand and wrapped his hooked arm around her once more to still her. Her annoyance encouraged him to tease her all the more, and he brushed the tip of his cock between her folds agonizingly slowly as he said, “I need you to be more specific, love. What do you want?”

“Fuck, Killian, I want your cock inside me.” Emma almost dropped her skirt when he filled her in one smooth slide, her jaw instinctively ready to fall open, but she caught herself and clenched it instead, biting down hard on the material with a groan at the sudden stretch.

“Very good.” The tip of his hook dimpled her flesh, dangerously close to piercing her, as he held her against himself and slammed into her from behind. His fingers laced themselves between hers and he caressed up the side of her body as he brought her hand to rest on the back of his neck. Emma raised her other hand in kind, and Killian moved his to her breast, kneading and squeezing it as he lost himself in the feel of her.

“Fuck, you feel fucking amazing around me, Emma. Not even heaven compares to the feel of you.” Killian licked a stripe along Emma’s collarbone and clamped his mouth over the spot, digging his teeth into her flesh. She moaned at the thought of the mark she’d wear tomorrow.

Bringing his arm back, Killian pressed it across Emma’s shoulder blades, pinning her chest to the glass in front of them with an arch in her back that jutted her ass out at him, and this time Emma did drop her skirt as her mouth opened on a loud moan at the forceful change of angles. Killian grunted and tucked his hook beneath the waistband, ripping it apart with the sharp tip and watching it fall as he pounded into her.

“I told you to hold that,” he growled against the shell of her ear. “Perhaps you are a naughty little minx after all.” Killian swatted Emma’s ass with an open palm before grabbing the reddening flesh and massaging it, in theory to soothe the sting but so roughly that she thought he might leave a bruise if he continued, one she’d be more than willing to bear as a reminder of their time for several days to come.

“Forgive me?” she teased in a mocking tone as she met his thrusts with each backward roll of her hips, almost inclined to make prayer hands at him if moving them wouldn’t risk her falling.

“Not exactly a sincere repentance, is it, love?” Killian struck her ass once more before grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging her head backward. “But it is rather tempting to grant you reprieve nonetheless.”

“Ah, so why don’t you give into that temptation, angel?” Emma gritted.

“Don’t try to persuade. Ask me for it.”

“Please, Killian, I’m so close.” Emma couldn’t take it anymore. “Make me come, angel. Please!” Emma sighed through a string of curses as Killian moved the curve of his hook to her clit, pressing the brace against her flesh just above it as he rubbed quick circles over the swollen nub.

“What say you, demon?” he asked, breathless himself as he brought them both to the brink. “Shall we chance our own breed of Nephilim?”

“Yes please,” she panted desperately. “I’ve already tasted you. I want to feel you. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“I’ll give you what you want, demon, but I want to hear you scream my name when I do, not God’s.” Killian’s mouth travelled from Emma’s neck to her shoulder and back as he pistoned his hips with abandon. His teeth scraped her flesh before he moaned against her cheek as he found his release, “Emma, fuck yes, Emma,” filling her with it and pushing it deeper as it dripped down the length of his cock.

With his brutal thrusts and relentless teasing, Emma granted his request soon after, crying out, “Killian!” at the top of her lungs as her knees buckled beneath her.

He practically lifted her off the ground when he caught her with his arm wrapped around her middle, holding her tightly as he drew every last drop of ecstasy from within her before he slipped from her core and spun her into a lightheaded kiss, caging her against the window with his arms once more.

“Well, that was fucking hot.” Emma smiled against his lips as she pulled one into her mouth to bite it playfully, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “Who knew you had it in you, angel?” One hand anchored in his hair as the other clutched at his ass, and she pulled him closer to her so she could rut against his leg, letting their releases spill down her thigh onto his and making him groan.

“It was the other way around, love,” he joked with a certainly devilish smirk, “but I concur, it was fucking hot.” Tucking his arms beneath her legs, Killian hoisted Emma into them and carried her to the bed, tossing her not so gently onto the mattress.

Emma giggled as she taunted him with one curled finger, beckoning him to her as she spread her legs wide, an invitation he happily accepted as he knelt between them and crawled above her body with a guttural growl.

“You might just convince me of the divine benefits of your side,” Emma purred, running her hands down his sides to grip his waist, “but I think I need to witness a bit more firsthand to make sure I believe, if you’ve got another miracle in you.”

“Angels are eternal, darling,” he said. “I’ll never leave you if that’s what it takes to really fill you with the spirit.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

——

A/N: "Glorious ascension" to describe an orgasm? Yeah, I'm going to hell.

——

Tag list ❤️: @batana54 @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @qualitycoffeethings @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @wefoundloveunderthelight @xsajx @zaharadessert

[gotnofucks]

Master of His Own Fate

Pairing: dark!Bucky x Reader, dark!Steve x Reader

Summary: As far as Bucky knew, fate would not decide who you belong to. Very twisted dark soulmate AU.

Words: 3.3k

Warning: forced bonding (in a way), blood, violence, messed up stuff, language, noncon (if you squint). 18+ ONLY

MASTERLIST

A/n: I have no idea how this got deleted ^.^

Part 2

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

Bucky crushed the phone in his hand and let the broken pieces clatter to the floor. His whole body trembled with barely restrained anger and he took deep breaths to calm himself. How could you do this to him. How dare you.

You’d known each other for two years now since you joined the Avengers Medical team at the tower. As someone who frequented the med bay a lot, you both saw a lot of each other. Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that you were a sweetheart. His sweetheart. He didn’t care that the initials on your wrist were not his. He didn’t care about the stupid Soulmate legend. You were made for him and that was the end of it. So why now did he find your profile on findmysoulmate app? Why were you looking for the person whose name matched the initials on your wrist when the one who you belonged to was right here?

“Buck, you okay pal?”, Steve asked, and Bucky’s gaze flew to him.

“No. I am not alright. My girl has decided to whore herself out to other men and I am not fucking alright Steve!”

“Your girl…Y/n would never do that. I just saw her this morning.”

When the people said Steve and Bucky were best friends on and off field, they forgot to mention about how alike they were in their thinking too. If Bucky said you belonged to him, Steve believed him, no questions asked.

“She has a profile on findmysoulmate. I saw it. She’s looking for him, whoever he is!” Bucky shouted and then started pacing back and forth. Steve let him work out his frustration for a minute before stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You know, maybe you should finally talk to her now. She’s young, innocent. And she spends awful amount of time with Wanda who never shuts up about soulmates. She’s impressionable and must have been confused. You can put that right. Let her know who owns her.” Steve said gently. Bucky blinked at Steve then nodded. It made sense after all. You were a nice girl. You would never intentionally break his heart.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. I need to let her know she’s mine. I’ve waited long enough for her to come to the conclusion on her own anyway. She’s young, she needs help to see it.”

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

You were returning to the compound after a day of disappointment and exhaustion. Wanda had convinced you to make an account on findmysoulmate and post a pic of the initials on your wrist. Everyone wasn’t born with some stranger’s initials tattooed on their body. You’d lived with these two letters since the day you were born, and people had told you how lucky you were to be gifted with someone special. They did not however understand how utterly taxing it could be to have a soulmate. Finding the person you are destined for is not easy, since they could be anywhere in the world, in any country. You had no luck finding him, whoever he was, and you were losing hope.

People who didn’t have their soulmarks didn’t understand the burden it came with. Once you knew that there was someone out there in the world for you who was going to be in absolute sync with you, you just couldn’t settle for anyone else. It doesn’t matter how many nice men you met or dated, you kept thinking about the person you’re meant to be with. You can’t be happy with anyone else, ever. For the longest time now, you’d ignored your soulmark after having no idea who the initials belonged to. You couldn’t live your life searching for him. Instead, you focused on your studies and honed your skills until you became the youngest doctor to join the avengers. You loved working here and the busy atmosphere almost always took your mind off things. But then you met Wanda Maximoff and the girl wouldn’t shut up about the mystery man you’re meant to “marry and have cute cute kids with who’ll call me auntie Won-Won!”. How Wanda convinced you to not just join the app but go on a date with a man who matched your soulmark you don’t know. But it was a disaster. Though the man had your initials on his wrist too, it was more than obvious in the first few minutes that you both were not the people destiny paired together. Not only was he a pervert whose gaze barely lifted from your cleavage, but he was also a junkie who took out a pouch from his pocket and laid down two lines of coke on the table as dessert. After you had made sure to report your date and pay for the miserable dinner, you’d gone out on a drive and stopped by every food cart on the way to indulge in comfort food.

Now, it was way past midnight as you returned to the compound with your beautiful dress wrinkled and makeup smudged from crying. You were tired and you vowed to give a piece of your mind to Wanda the first thing tomorrow morning, right after chucking your phone in her face. You entered the security pin to your apartment and shut the door behind you, blindly searching for the switchboard. Flicking it on, you removed your high heels and sighed in relief.

“Welcome back.”

You screamed and stumbled back, before you recognized the figure sitting in your living room. Bucky had his legs crossed at his ankle and he was drinking whatever soda you’d left in the fridge.

“What the fuck, Bucky? You scared me to death!” You huffed in annoyance. “What are you doing here at this hour anyway?”

Bucky took another gulp of his drink before setting his glass down and looked at you with a frown.

“The question should be where the fuck have you been all this time? I’ve been here since seven in the evening and you are returning hours later looking like you just spent a few hours sucking some good for nothing bastard’s dick.” He had never cursed in front of you like that or been rude to you.

“Excuse me, what the hell is wrong with you. I – You know what, just leave. I’m too tired to deal with anyone’s shit at the moment. Go.” You just wanted to burrow in your bed and sleep your horrible day off. You’ll worry about a cranky Bucky tomorrow.

“No, I think we’ll stay.”

“We?”

That was when Steve emerged from your kitchen and you tried your best to rouse your half-asleep mind. Bucky and Steve were in your apartment after midnight, without your consent and they seemed less than friendly. You looked at them cautiously, very sure they were in no need of emergency medical aid to prompt this visit. Both of them were frowning at you, their eyes displeased at your ruffled appearance.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I am seriously too tired to care. I had the most horrible date of my life and I’m sure I ate too much and will end up puking in the morning. Whatever you have to say, can it wait until tomorrow?” You were already crossing the hall to your bedroom as you spoke, but Bucky quickly stood up and stopped you with a grip on your arm.

“You were on a date?” He growled and looked at Steve as if to say, ‘what did I tell you’.

You shrugged his arm off, the cold metal of it waking you up along with the dark tone of his voice. Suddenly, though you were in your home, you felt unsafe. It was bizarre because these were two avengers who you counted as friends and felt very secure with, but you gut was screaming at you to get as far away from them as possible. The very peculiar feeling of fear formed in your gut, the very same one that women get when they know they are being stalked in a dark alley at night. You hesitantly moved away from Bucky, only to bump into Steve. You peered at him over your shoulder and he wore the most disappointed expression you had ever seen on his face.

“Where do you think you’re going Y/n? Bucky asked you something, answer him.” Steve said and pushed you towards his friend with a hand on your back. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you, waiting. You felt trapped, your exhaustion waning with every passing second.

“What’s happening guys? You both are scaring me.” You said.

“Maybe you should be scared, sweetheart. You just came home having spent the last few hours with a man who’s not me and going by the state of you, your evening was very eventful. Did you let him cum in you? Did you compare those tattoos on your wrists and make plans for future?” Bucky had crept closer and now he was inches apart, his words spoken directly in your face.

You blinked almost stupidly at this sudden twist in your night. Bucky was angry at you for having gone to a date, Steve was disappointed. But that makes no sense. Why should it matter to them at all, unless for some reason Bucky thinks…?

“Buck, you are my friend. I don’t know why you’re talking this way. Why you sound so –”

“– So jealous? Because you fucking belong to me. You have always belonged to me.”

The moment the words left him, your worst suspicions were confirmed, and you wasted not one second before sprinting for the door. You think you would have managed to evade Bucky had Steve not been there. He seemed to have been waiting for you to make a move and you had taken only a step before you were grabbed by the back of your neck and pulled into Steve’s body.

“Stop! Both of you! Let me go!” You struggled but Steve held you fast and soon Bucky was at your back, his breath on your neck and hands capturing your arms.

“Baby, you need to slow down. Your squirming is turning me the hell on and as much as I would love to wipe any other man’s essence from you, we need to do something else first.” Bucky said and a second later he bit your neck making you screech. He kept pushing his teeth in, breaking your skin and you felt blood pooling in the juncture of your neck.

“Buck, stop.” Steve said and threw Bucky off you with a powerful shove. “Shit, come here sweetie.” You were cradled in Steve’s embrace, his handkerchief at your neck putting pressure on the wound and hand caressing your head. When Bucky made to move forward you whimpered and Steve stopped him with a raised hand.

“Baby, I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Bucky said and you looked at him with tear filled eyes. Your day today has been a whirlwind of shitstorm and you just wanted it to be over so you could forget everything about it.

“Y/n look at me” Steve said softly and raised your face to his with a finger. “Did you have sex with your date tonight?”

His voice and actions were so soft compared to Bucky’s that you shuffled closer to his warmth and shook your head.

“No, I left early. It was terrible, so so terrible that I went out for a drive to clear my mind. I didn’t expect to be so late, but time just flew away.”

You knew you didn’t owe them any explanation; you knew they don’t have any right to ask anything from you. But you were tired, exhausted, shit scared and absolutely terrified of what they would do to you if you didn’t answer them. They were genetically enhanced super soldiers while you were a brainiac doctor who worked overtime to avoid thinking about a man she had never met. You were no match for them physically and you were smart enough to accept defeat when you had to.

“Shh, I got you sweetie. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? I know you’re so tired of being alone, of not having someone with you. But you’re so naïve. Look behind you, the perfect man who will love you more than anyone else is standing right here.” Steve said and turned you to face Bucky. Bucky slowly walked to you and held your hands, kissing both in apology.

“I know this seems sudden but believe me when I say that I’ve loved you practically from the first moment I saw you. Everything about you sets my nerve endings on fire. You dominate every part of my life: my thoughts, my dreams, my very breath has your name on it. You’re mine.”

Your breath caught in your throat in fear. This could not be happening to you. You struggled to remove your hands from Bucky’s, and he relented in the end with reluctance, a scowl on his handsome face.

“Bucky listen to yourself. You’re talking like a crazy man. I don’t belong to you, I literally can’t. I belong with him.” You said pointing at the initials on your wrist. You knew immediately you’d made a big mistake because every last bit of sanity faded from Bucky’s blue eyes and they turned feral. He crowded you and his hands, tight as steel brands, caged your body.

“How dare you, hm? How dare you talk about belonging to someone else in front of me? Don’t think for one second sweetheart that just because I love you, I’ll not punish you.” His voice had gone soft, the way it does when he’s as his most dangerous. Steve stirred somewhere behind you, but your eyes were locked in terror to Bucky’s who pinned you frozen with his glare.

“Buck, please…” You didn’t even know what you were asking him for. He apparently didn’t care to know because he had started dragging you across the hall towards your bedroom while you shouted and wrestled in his grip. You shouted for help and begged Steve to help you, but he had was silent and watched you being hauled to your room with no emotion on his face.

Bucky entered your room and swiftly pushed you to sit at the edge of the bed, one hand on your shoulder and other grabbing fistful of your hair to manipulate your head. You were pulled up and his kiss descended on you with the force of a truck, knocking you back and his body followed. He swallowed your moans and protests, teeth clashing against each other’s. You barely noticed his hand reaching for the hem of your dress and then the ripping sound echoed around your room and cool air met your bare skin.

“Please, don’t!” You said, hiding your breast with your hands. Bucky stood with his gaze fixed on your body and when his hand reached for his pants you started sobbing. Curiously, he didn’t reach for his zipper but instead fished from his pocket his trusty knife. You whole body began shaking enough to rattle your teeth and gibberish spilled from your parted mouth in fear.

“Don’t look at me like that baby, I will not kill you.” Bucky said but you were far from reassured.

You saw Steve enter the room from the corner of your eyes and heard the door shut. He walked swiftly to Bucky’s side and restrained the hand with the knife.

“What the hell are you doing pal? You’re scaring her, put this thing away.” Ever the voice of reason but Bucky looked at him imploringly.

“Don’t you see it Steve? Look at her wrist. As long as she lives, she’ll live with this ‘what if’. But we can change that. Set her free from whoever this man is.”

While the talked you made your last attempt to escape and jumped out of bed towards the door. You could almost taste the freedom on your tongue, the door knob was clenched in your hand when you were yanked back by Steve who hoisted your twisting body on his shoulder and dumped you back on bed with almost no effort. You curled in yourself, acutely aware of your nakedness.

“Don’t take away my soulmark, please. Don’t cut it!” You croaked out and Bucky looked at you with his head titled.

“Cut your arm? No no my love, you’ve got it wrong. I won’t cut your arm” He assured and bent over you to kiss your sweaty brow. “I’ll carve myself into you.”

With that he straddled your waist and kissed you again, the cold knife in his hand making a terrifying trail down your cheek to you neck and collarbone, before stopping right above your heart.

“You think these letters on your wrist make you someone else’s? Well, guess what sweetheart, I’ll put my letters on your heart. Then you’ll become mine!”

Your body jerked violently under his trying to buck him away and Bucky urged Steve to take hold of your arms. You lay prone with a hoarse throat and watched with fascinated horror and pain as Bucky’s knife nicked your skin and glided smoothly to form his initials. He was great with knives, so it hurt less, and the effect was neat. He wiped away the blood and you could see shining on your skin, right over your heart the initials: JBB.

You belonged with, no, you belonged to James Buchanan Barnes.

Your tears had stopped, and you lay limp on the bed, lower half immobile under Bucky’s weight while your arms were held fast in Steve’s. The fight had left your body and you wanted to drown in the numbing embrace of sleep.

“I’ve let too many people control me all my life. The army, then Hydra, even Avengers. They order me and I follow like a good soldier. But I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Not even fate. I’ll be the master of my own fate. You bear my marks now. You’re mine.”

His weight was gone, and he said something about getting you water before leaving the room. You didn’t move but when Steve lifted you a little, so you were in a comfortable position, you for some reason reached out to him and nuzzled your face into his chest to weep. His large hand patted your head and back, voice soothing as he shushed you.

Bucky came back with a chilled glass of water and painkillers but stopped at the door, watching you in Steve’s arm. Your eyes met his and you thought he’d be jealous and pissed but a content smile lit up his lips.

“Steve” His voice rang out and Steve looked at him. Whatever passed in that wordless gaze you couldn’t tell but a minute later Steve was puling you harder to his chest and his lips were pressed in your hair.

“I’m sorry” He whispered in your ear and he did genuinely sound upset. “If there was another way, I swear I would do it.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he rolled off the bed and resumed his position of taking hold of your arms. Bucky was again over you with his knife and a wild, almost passionately crazy look in his eyes. The knife was back over your heart but just below the three newly carved letters into your skin. As it sliced into you again, Bucky spoke.

“You can’t belong to me without belonging to him too, for we both are one. And after tonight, the three of us will be bound together.”

The blood forged a small river down your breast, and you hissed as a neat SGR was carved into you.

“You’re our girl Y/n.”

They cleaned you up and dressed you in your softest nightdress, both super soldiers on either side of you. They each held a hand of yours and their own clasped hands lay on your stomach as they slept. It didn’t matter now who was the man who bore your marks. Fate was too late.

[giogiohcs]

Brothers x Trans man!MC

I didn’t write for Asmo bc I didn’t feel like it😖

Also how am I a trans man yet I sucked at writing this??💀

Lucifer

-When you come out to him, he accepts you, of course, but that doesn’t mean he understands.

-He’s a boomer, a sexy boomer but still a boomer😔.

-He’ll understand the concept of “being born in the wrong body” but if your journey is any different than that, it’ll cause him to be confused but he won’t ever admit that.

-He will need a through talking to, an honest and frank discussion about it, like what you plan to do, will your relationship change? Etc.

-When you mention wanting to get surgery or taking testosterone to change something about yourself, it’s hard for him to come to terms that you’re not doing this because you hate yourself but the opposite. You’re transitioning because you love yourself❤️.

-When he realizes that last point, he’ll be helpful and listen to what you want. He’ll even help you financially to transition if you want to.

-He doesn’t like the thought of you staying extensively on Earth for surgery and recovering but he’ll be patient for you.

-Will be a strict enforcer of your pronouns and new name, if you have one. He’s taking NO shit. A three strike rule? No it’s actually a one strike rule :). Get it wrong once and you’re done for.

-Is he using that one bit as an excuse to punish others especially Mammon? Maybe... He’ll stop if you want him to, but don’t✨.

Mammon

-When you come out to him, he’s confused, very confused.

-Of course, he loves you but he doesn’t understand at all.

-“Why do you want to change? I thought we were fine!?!?” His insecurity will come out when you come out.

-Thinks that you’re coming up with a weird way to break up with him, honestly.

-Along with Lucifer, will also need a talking to. You need to reassure him that you still love him and that your relationship is FINE. Even when he’s being a insecure little baby about it.

-After, he understands why you want to transition and wanting to take testosterone or getting surgery.

-He’ll look up the costs and even if it hurts his very soul, will start saving money to give to you for your next birthday. Expect him to be busy with modeling shoots.

-Will complain about having to memorize your new name and pronouns, if you have one. But suddenly like magic✨ will memorize and get it tattooed to his brain when you tell him that you’ll let him go on a shopping spree if he gets them right.

-Will never admit it but he’s excited to start calling you his boyfriend.

-Also he will brag to his brothers that you came out to him FIRST. He’s your first everything now! Little ego boost, as a treat.

Leviathan

-“We’re just like that one couple in ‘I’m Transitioning and I Don’t Know How To Tell My Demon Lord Boyfriend!’!!!”

-He accepts you and understands that you’re trans, no need for a discussion.

-But that’s AFTER he freaked out when you sat him down and tried to come out to him.

-Just like Mammon, he thought you were gonna break up with him so he didn’t allow you to speak before running away to his room and locking the door.

-🚪🏃🏻💨 🏃💨 WHY ARE YOUR RUNNING? WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?

-Reassure him that you still love him and that your relationship won’t change and he’ll be fine❤️.

-Levi is also gonna recommend trans and other queer animes to you.

-He’s trying to be a good boyfriend and order you questionable transitioning stuff from Akuzon.

-Have you gotten a cursed binder from him? Yes.

-Are you still wearing it because you literally can’t take it off? Yeah...

-But does it make you look flat af? 🥴Definitely yes.

-Is Lucifer gonna have to get involved to get you out of the cursed binder? Also yes.

Satan

-Completely understands and accepts you, he’s done extensive research in humans queerness, genders and sexualities

-He’s grateful that you love and trust him enough to come out to.

-Will offer to help you transition, whether it’s helping to convince Lucifer to let you leave Devildom to get hormones and/or surgery or helping you transition with magic 🪄.

-Don’t take the latter option.

-He’ll help you navigate through the nonsense that doctors and counselors try to put you through and speed up your medical transition process.

-“Oh? The doctor said you can’t get testosterone without going through [insert time-consuming bullshit]? Well actually, what he’s doing is considered medical malpractice due to law IQH.175 that was recently passed and it’d be just awful if he got jailed for it :).”

-Very helpful.

-Like Lucifer, a one strike policy is put into place.

-Also like his brother, he’s gonna use it to punish others ESPECIALLY Lucifer.

-Let your man have his fun❤️.

Beelzebub

-Doesn’t understand at all but accepts you. Says if you’re happy, he’s happy.

-Memorizes your new name and pronouns, if you have one, like that *snaps fingers*.

-You thought you were so glad to have just a caring and sweet boyfriend.

-That was until you start talking about transitioning through surgery or testosterone then he gets worried.

-Why would you want to change yourself? You’re already perfect in his eyes.

-...He really doesn’t get it.

-Thinks you want to change yourself because you simply don’t like yourself so he starts viewing transitioning as a bad thing.

-You need to sit down and talk to him about, well, everything.

-You’ll probably need to keep things simple but frank for him. Maybe make a comparison to exercising, a person doesn’t need to hate themselves to start working out right?

-He begins to understand why you do the things or want to do the things you do.

-Beel still views you as perfect no matter what you look like, but starts shifting his complements from “you’re perfect the way you are” to “you’re really handsome.” And complements your changes.

-He’s very proud by how far you’ve come.

Belphegor

-When you sit him down for a serious conversation, he, just like his other brothers, gets worried.

-Are you breaking up with him? Did he sleep away on too many dates? Is it because he killed you before? Etc etc.

-He becomes a cranky baby from all the bad thoughts in his head but then you come out to him.

-He’s surprised but also not really.

-He’s mostly just glad that you weren’t breaking up with him.

-Says he accepts you and just sleeps again.

-Memorizes you new pronouns and name, if you have one, very easily. He loves you after all.

-All’s well that ends well.

-That’s until you needed to go to earth to transition then he become a cranky baby about everything again.

-“Why can’t you do transition here? With magic? It’s so much easier and you won’t have to leave..” He tries to reason with you.

-Starts thinking that you’re just trying to escape from him, to go back to earth where you know he can’t get to you.

-Against all of his fears, he lets you go to earth.

-He has to start cuddling with his brother again because he just misses you so much.

-His heart is broken and honestly thinks that you’re never coming back.

-When you do come back, first time since you left, he’s gotten up from bed just to drag you down with him under the covers.

-You two have a lot of catching up to do.

[storiesforallfandoms]

fatherhood ~ zac efron

word count: 1519

request?: yes!

@kellysimagines​ “Can you make one where the reader and zac have been together for 13 years (since Hairspray) and the reader is a youtuber and they have a daughter who is 8 months old and the reader asks him questiones about him being a dad and stuff with the baby with us and we also answer fab questions on how we keep our relationship so good after so many years and stuff? :)”

description: in which they decide to do a q&a about their relationship and parenthood

pairing: zac efron x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

“Wanna go to mama?” Zac asked as he held our eight month old towards me. She thought for a moment before pulling away, cuddling close to her father.

“I’ll remember this,” I told her, playfully narrowing my eyes at her.

I adjusted my camera to make sure it was perfect one last time before finally hitting the record button.

“Hey everyone!” I greeted the camera. “It’s (Y/N) and, back by popular demand, we have Zac!”

Zac smiled and waved at the camera. “Hey everyone.”

“And today we are also joined by the most adorable girl in the whole world, Dani Efron.” I looked over to see Dani was more interested in her socks than the filming. “You guys have been asking for a Q&A with Zac and I about parenthood, so I decided it was time to give you what you’ve been asking for.”

Dani squealed to herself before reaching for one of her toys on the floor. Zac bent over to pick it up and pass it to her. She smiled excitedly and began to play with it.

“I asked you guys to tweet me your questions regarding Dani, the pregnancy, the birth - but nothing too r rated - and about myself and Zac. I picked a couple, and now here we go,” I continued to explain.

I picked up my phone and opened the first question. “Okay, question number one says, Pretty cliché question here, but what was your guys’ first reactions when (Y/N) found out she was pregnant?”

“Shock,” Zac answered first. He began to laugh once he said it. “I know that’s also cliché, but it’s the truth. You told me you were pregnant and I remember just like...not knowing what to do.”

“I really wish I filmed your reaction now, but I was afraid it wouldn’t go well,” I admitted.

Zac and I had been together for nearly 13 years when I found out I was pregnant. Neither one of us had talked about marriage and kids seriously at the time, we were both comfortable with where we were in the relationship. We had talked about eventually wanting kids, but we were both still young and still focused on our careers.

I took a pregnancy test shortly after the second period I missed. When it came back positive, I went to the doctor to make sure and sure enough, it came back positive as well. I was so scared to tell Zac because I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. I didn’t think he’d be mad, but what if he wasn’t ready? Was I even ready?

He was shocked, as he had said. At first I thought he was going to pass out. I didn’t think he was even breathing. The longer it took for him to respond, the more anxious I got. When he finally spoke, my heart began to flutter.

“Holy fuck, I’m gonna be a dad!”

He had lifted me into his arms and held me tightly, happy tears running down his face. I kissed him for so long after that, and we were just happy.

“I was pretty shocked as well, but I had an idea that I was because I had missed two periods,” I responded. “I had myself convinced it was like a medial reason, though. I was so sure I wasn’t pregnant.”

“I suppose it was about time for us to have a kid, we have been together for years.”

Dani threw her toy onto the floor and immediately exclaimed. Zac chuckled and placed her on the floor, letting her crawl around after her toys.

“The next question is, What was it like being pregnant?”

“That’s a question for you,” Zac laughed.

“I’m aware,” I said and playfully stuck my tongue out at him. “At first it was basically just like having a persistent stomach bug, but once Dani actually started growing it felt...just weird. It was like this constant reminder that there was something inside of me growing. And when she’d start to move and was like...baby size if not getting to be baby size, it was this weird realization that she was actually there. That she actually existed. It was all just this weird sensation in general.”

“You went through so much while you were pregnant,” Zac admitted. “I will never be able to say I’m tough ever again cause I am no way tougher than what you went through.”

I couldn’t help but blush at this. I had been hearing this praise for over a year, but I would never get tired of hearing the compliments.

“Ah, I expected this one,” I said as I looked at the next question on my phone. “Is marriage next for you guys?”

I looked over at Zac. I quickly took in his appearance to make sure I wasn’t about to get a surprise engagement. I loved Zac, and of course I’d say yes, but I wasn’t ready to be proposed to while filming a video.

Noticing my look, Zac merely chuckled and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I’m not gonna propose right now. When I do it, it’s going to be private and intimate. No one will even know it’ll have happened until after we’re married.”

I couldn’t help but smile brightly at his response. “I like that idea.”

Zac held his hand out towards my phone. “Let me pick the next question.”

I passed it to him and he scrolled through the list of questions I had saved. “Oh, I like this one: Did you guys have any other names picked out for Dani? What were they?”

“Well, we decided not to find out her gender until after she was born,” I explained, “so we had many almost names picked out for her.”

“I was adamant on Josh, just because I liked that name a lot,” Zac said. “And Theodor, I thought that was a cute and proper name.”

“I vetoed Theodor because the last thing we needed was people making jokes about us naming our kid Ted, for obvious reasons,” I said, playfully nudging Zac. “I tried to convince him to choose Troy instead.”

“I vetoed that one immediately.”

“As for girls, the only other name we had besides Danielle was Isabelle, but that’s because I’m obsessed with the Mortal Instruments series and Izzy is my favorite character. When she was born, though, we just knew she was a Dani.”

At the sound of her name, Dani looked up at us from the floor as she sucked on her toy. I couldn’t help but smile at my baby girl before quickly sweeping her up in my arms and placing kisses all over her face. She squealed in response, but I could hear the giggles in between them.

Dani stayed up in my arms through the next few questions before getting bored and wanting to play on the floor again. Zac and I decided to wrap it up after one last question.

“I think we’ll leave that there,” I said into the camera. “Thank you guys so much for watching. If you liked this video, give it a thumbs up and maybe I’ll do another Q&A some time in the future. Hit the subscribe button if you haven’t already, and if you have make sure you turn on notifications so you know every time I post. See you guys next week!”

I covered the camera with my hand before turning it off, my usual outro. Once I had the camera off, Zac stood from his chair and stretched his arms out.

“I don’t know how you film these videos,” he commented. “My body feels so cramped up right now.”

“I think I’ve just gotten used to it,” I responded as I stretched my legs out.

Zac picked Dani up in his arms and began to playfully rock her. “I got to talk about my favorite girl, so I’d have to say the cramped up body is definitely well worth it.”

Dani smiled, her single tooth slightly visible from behind her little lips. Zac kissed her cheek as he walked around our house with her, Dani more than content with being in her father’s arms.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself at my little family. I loved Zac more than words could ever say, and I didn’t think that love could get any stronger until the day I saw him holding our beautiful baby girl for the first time. He had been there for me through the entire pregnancy, and had been such a great father towards Dani. I couldn’t have asked for a better life partner than him.

Noticing my starring, Zac raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I responded with a shrug. “I love you is all.”

He smiled back at me and responded, “I love you, too.” In a higher pitched voice, he moved Dani in front of his face and added, “And I love you, too, mommy.”

I giggled before standing from my chair. I walked over to the two and kissed Dani’s chubby cheeks before kissing Zac more sweetly on the lips.

[all-my-love-for-harry]

You should write about Harry or Artemis talking to the baby in her belly.

+ a little bit of quarantining with artemis and we find out the gender!!

you can find more of my shy little boy here

//

it wasn't like Harry hated technology or something. Although he didn't like to use it a lot, he had to admit it comes in handy sometimes, especially in times like these where entertaining a six-year-old was becoming a hard task lately, and Y/n and Harry were feeling like they were running out of ideas to keep him happy.

Now, he would never admit it, but he actually didn't feel like the worst parent ever when he handed Artemis an iPad or his phone whenever he started to get cranky. It was a quick, easy solution rather than playing a six hours long monopoly game where his son would be in a bad mood because he was losing. The more time they spent at home, the more Artemis would feel like he was losing his mind. He missed the park, school, his grandmas. He hated his change of routine and in all honesty, so did Y/n and Harry.

Back in December of last year, Anne had given little Artemis a Nintendo Switch for his birthday. Now, the boy loved the gift and, according to him, the best he got out of all the other gifts people gave him for his birthday. But despite how much he loved it, Artemis' screen time was very little since he already had eye problems at six-years-old, his parents wouldn't risk making it worse.

But ever since the pandemic started, they had allowed him a little more time playing with electronics since there wasn't a lot he could do. Lately, he's been obsessed with Animal Crossing and he could play for hours. Plus, the game has forced him to practice his reading with the instructions and stuff the game had and that was the only way he'd accept doing the task.

Harry made the decision of buying one for himself to play with his son and he had to admit, that game was sucking the life out of him.

"You have to complete the commissions to get the gifts." Harry said, sitting on the couch next to Artemis while watching him play. He was currently at uncle Michal's island just because.

"Harry, did you call Gemma? The doctor's appointment is tomorrow."

"I'll text her in a moment."

As the eighteenth week of the pregnancy rolled in, Y/n started to grow anxious to know whether they were expecting a girl or a boy, not because she had a preference or anything, she was just excited to start choosing potential names for their baby. She hopes this appointment would be the one and their little one would finally be in the right position since the last time they went, the genitals of the baby weren't visible.

So for tomorrow's appointment, they needed to know if Gemma could babysit Artemis for a couple of hours while they were out. They had mentioned to her in one of their facetime calls, but Y/n's doctor had to change the date and so they had to confirm Harry's sister.

"Will I go to Auntie Gemma's tomorrow?" Artemis looked up at his mum.

"Yeah, only for a little bit while we're out."

"We're going to the doctor, remember?" Artemis nodded at Harry. "We'll know the gender of your sibling."

"Can it be a girl?" Artemis repeated the same question he's been asking ever since he found out about the pregnancy. Harry chuckled, running a hand through his blonde curls.

"I've told you that's not how it works, buddy. We can't pick whether if it's a girl or a boy."

"Yes, we can." Artemis rolled his eyes as he hopped off the couch, walking towards his mum. He placed his small hands on Y/n's tummy making her smile. "Please, please be a girl. Girls are better, plus you'll look like mummy."

The two adults in the room looked at each other with wide smiles on their faces.

"I'm sure you've convinced them, mate."

//

Y/n held Harry's hand nervously as they walked inside of the building. They were wearing hoodies and their masks covered most of their faces but they still wouldn't risk getting recognized. They've been doing so well keeping it a secret it almost feels surreal. Although they knew they couldn't hide it forever, both of them made the decision of going through the pregnancy as privately as possible, and the pandemic helped a little bit with that since they could stay at home and while Y/n still had to give online classes via zoom or whatever, she wasn't really showing at that time so no one noticed.

For safety reasons, the clinic only offered a few appointments per day and each of them had a certain amount of time in between so they just had to wait a few minutes before a nurse called them in. Harry let his girlfriend enter first and took a seat on one of the chairs after she did. Y/n was still playing with Harry's hand that she kept on her lap, the feeling of excitement becoming too big to hide.

"We'll love them regardless." Harry remained her.

"We'll love them regardless." She repeated, giving his hand one last squeeze before the doctor walked in. The middle-aged woman was wearing a mask, but Y/n could bet she was smiling behind it.

"Hello. We got the results of the tests we did on you last week, sorry we took so long but things are kind of chaotic in here." She said, sitting down on the chair behind her desk. "It appears that everything is fine so far. We checked your blood but also your sensitivities to food so I've made an advice plan for you." She handed them a folder. "You're well on the vitamins, so nothing to worry there. Now, your vitamin D is a little low so we'll get you a supplement." Y/n glazed at Harry quickly, noticing how he was containing a giggle. "Unfortunately, in the food department, chicken eggs are very high so I recommend you stay away from those for a year." The doctor pointed at the space that said 'food'. "As you can see, the line is red which means the level is pretty high."

She kept explaining some other things before she guided the couple to where they were going to do the ultrasound. Y/n laid down on the bed with Harry's help and winced a little when the cold gel hit her exposed skin. Soon enough, an image of their baby appeared on the screen along with a heartbeat, making them gasp.

"Looks like we're in the right position. Do we want to know what are we having?" The doctor looked back at them.

"Please." Y/n choked a sob, squeezing Harry's hand a little tighter.

"Congratulations, you're having a baby girl."

Who would have thought Artemis' persuasion tactics would actually work?

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!

@myfavfanficsever @odetostep @la-cey @cock-a-doodely-doo @awkwardbullfrog @mellamolayla @moorgannn @bagtan-serendipity @awesomebooklover17 @finelineribs @sunnybusiness @beanholland @sweetenerstyle @cronias13 @vhsharry @maisley @seasidecrowbar @stylesfics-xx @autumnpauley20 @fineline-hs @stephaniemalvie @immajustreadwritereblog @jadert15 @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @abundanceofsoph @megaprincesscakes @daylightqueenxx @sonofabitchstyles

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 4]

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

@we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy’s lovecraftian horror AU, with a bit of my own twist on the origin story. Emotional hurt/comfort. Body horror. Hugging your body-horror monster boyfriend. 

3,386 words

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had everything: great wealth (built on the backs of exploited workers), a grand estate, a beautiful wife, and many mistresses waiting in the wings. Yet after years of trying, he failed to produce an heir. Determined that his money could buy anything, the man scoured the world, searching for a solution. One day, his extensive resources brought him to an ancient castle in Lithuania, where the last descendants of a noble bloodline offered him a devil’s bargain—a book, a summoning ritual. He did not ask questions. His wife was finally with child.

The Chilton legacy was secure.

The moment Frederick was born, the life was sucked from his mother—a human sacrifice for his soul crossing into this world. That was what his father told him, at least. Frederick had no memory of clawing his way through the veil between worlds, of being anything other than an ordinary child with a distant father, a young, blonde stepmother, and nannies instead of friends. Until the changes began. Allison (or was it Kayla at the time?) fainted in the living room when he staggered in, screaming as smoke boiled from his skin, begging for help. His father only wrinkled his nose with disgust and calmly explained what he was.

“You must learn to hide this, Frederick. Never let anyone see you this way, or it will destroy the family name.”

And so, he learned the transformation’s schedule. Prepared for it. Knew how to hide it away and never let anyone get close enough to see the real him. But it wasn’t good enough. Try as he might, nothing Frederick ever did met his father’s expectations for the perfect son he had gone through so much trouble to produce.

Frederick grew into a bitter and lonely man with no one to care about, or who cared about him. He kept the world at a distance, hiding his shame behind expensive suits and lavish decoration.

Never once did he consider that he was not alone in this world at all.

 ***

I see him as one of those pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal. Nobody can tell what he is.

This is how Will Graham describes the Chesapeake Ripper.

Every therapy session with Graham, every conversation overhead, the puzzle became clearer. At first, Chilton merely believed that Dr. Lecter was guilty of unethical practices—manipulating Mr. Graham in the same way he had manipulated Gideon. He felt such kinship with Hannibal. Learning a bit of dirt on him brought the ever-so-superior doctor down to his level, gave him something to lord over him—a little implied blackmail to strengthen their friendship.

They both had secrets to hide.

Dr. Chilton never would have guessed the final puzzle piece to convince him fully that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper would be the one everyone else laughed at.

“I brought you here to bear witness,” Graham said to Gideon through their adjoining cells.

“To tell Jack Crawford that I sat in Hannibal Lecter’s cobalt blue dining room? An ostentatious herb garden, Leda and the Swan over the fireplace. And you, having a fit in the corner.”

Chilton perked up and quickly shared the audio feed to one of the junior therapists assisting him. You were reliable at editing his audio files, clipping and exporting segments he wanted to keep, but he was avoiding you at the moment. This was proof—irrefutable proof that Gideon had met Hannibal Lecter the night he went searching for the Ripper.

After his conversation with Graham concluded, an assistant was sent down to coax more information from him while Chilton’s research team listened in, keenly taking notes.

Gideon was not finished dropping bombshells.

With a casual lilt to his voice as if talking to a friend over dinner, he began to describe the Chesapeake Ripper. Skin like volcanic ash, reflecting no light. A red glow to his eyes. Black claws as long as steak knives. Antlers breaking through the inside of his skull, punching through the skin. All black as night—a form that shifted in the shadows, ever tricking the eye, unwilling to be known.

He’s the Devil, Mr. Graham. He’s smoke.

“Great. Gideon is delusional,” one therapist snorted. “On the bright side, this completely undercuts his malpractice case against you.” She patted Chilton’s shoulder. Chilton flinched.

“We should start him on antipsychotics. What do you think? Doctor?”

Chilton’s face turned ashen white. “Y-yes, certainly,” he muttered, staggering to his feet.

He moved for the door, but crumbled halfway there, pain ripping through his leg as sharp thorns grew beneath the skin. It was daylight. No. No! The transformation should not be starting for hours—he had plenty of time! He gasped out as another shock tore through him, barely containing a cry. His body convulsed.

“Doctor!” A therapist and a guard rushed in to help him to his feet. “Where does it hurt? If this is a complication from your surgery, we need to get you into intensive care right away.”

“No,” he brushed them off. “Only… psychosomatic. I need to— ah!” He gritted his teeth, mind racing to the one person he did not want to turn to, but the only one he could, and barked, “Get my secretary!”

 ***

Smoke was rising off of his burning skin by the time you rushed into Chilton’s vacated office. His eyes were wide with panic, but greeted you when you entered with—not relief, perhaps, because he was every bit as terrified as before, but with the anticipation of being rescued. His eyes pleaded.

“H-help. I cannot make it stop.”

You managed to get him into your car. The sun’s orange rays seemed to chase the beast away, clearing his skin and stopping his wracking convulsions long enough to cross the employee parking lot without drawing stares. He insisted on taking the back seat so he could hide—and to put more distance between you in case he lost control.

His chest rose and fell like a rabbit in a cat’s mouth.

“The way he described Dr. Lecter—anyone would think it was a metaphor! That he was crazy!” Chilton’s breath was raspy as you drove, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. He kept trembling, small patches of scaly skin appearing at random then swirling back inside. One pupil was a pinprick. His tongue occasionally became serpentine and got in the way as he frantically spoke. “But it was too specific, the details. Familiar. I always knew there was a connection between Dr. Lecter and me—a reason we were friends. It all makes sense now!”

“Hey, it’s OK,” you said, trying to sound soothing, though you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Don’t you understand? Lecter is like me!”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That means you’re not alone.”

“Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper!” he shouted, and a spine tore through a seat cushion. “A cannibal, if Will Graham is to be believed, and loathe as I am to admit it, Graham is an excellent profiler. If the Ripper and I are the same… then that means I—”

“You are nothing like that!” Forgetting the damage his demonic tantrum was doing to your faux-leather interior, you had faith in him. He was a little withdrawn and more than a little vain, and it had garnered him an icy reputation around the hospital, but now you understood why. He wasn’t evil or malicious. He was frightened.

“God help me,” he murmured.

 ***

As soon as the garage door closed behind you, he scrambled from the car (scratching the handle), and retreated inside. He didn’t invite you to follow him home. But he didn’t forbid it, either, and you wanted to be there. All you had were panic-scrambled memories from the first time that made his transformation worse in hindsight than it was. Or maybe better. You didn’t know, and you wouldn’t know until you saw it again with clear eyes.

The electric kettle rumbled on its stand, hissing steam as you searched through Frederick Chilton’s surprisingly extensive tea collection for something herbal and soothing. Chamomile, you thought. With honey. Surely that must be good for demon-monster-werewolf things?

The sun was about to set and he was still reeling over Hannibal, and just as much from the premature transformation the revelation had triggered. And every time he cried, “This is not possible. How can this be possible?” the next convulsion was more intense.

He would probably just burn himself on tea.

A painful whimper came from somewhere in the house, and you followed it to a tiny panic room that opened behind a bookshelf. It was only about seven by nine feet with concrete walls and floors, bare except for deep scratches of varying age, like an animal trying to escape. The few chairs inside were metal. Difficult to break. Frederick faced away from you, staring at a hand that was too large for the rest of his body, capped with long black claws.

“Oh no, this will not do at all,” you tutted, shaking your head at the barren space. “How about I bring in some blankets? Let’s get you comfortable.”

His whole body shook. “You should go.”

“No. No way, not after seeing this prison cell. I am not leaving you like this.”

“I do not want to hurt you.” His shoulder jerked. A spike tore through his shirt.

“You won’t.”

“Seeing it again… will not be therapeutic for you,” he hissed, another spike breaking through. “Go before it is too late.”

“No!”

“Damn it! I am a monster—there is proof of that now! The FBI has no idea what it is dealing with!” Chilton began to pace the small cell, thoughts racing, features morphing into something grotesque and alien. “Does Hannibal know about me? Can he sense it? Is that why he confided in me? I always thought it was professional respect—hah! God, what if he…” A painful convulsion halted his pacing and brought him to one knee, gripping his side. His attention snapped back to you. “This is… dangerous,” he warned, then hacked violently. Fleshy, snake-like projections spewed from his mouth, and he quickly turned away again, hiding his face. “You should… you should be nowhere near all of this! You should not be here! Why did I let you inside?!”

A roar of anguish ripped through the air with enough force to push you back through the panic room door, just in time to avoid being impaled on half a dozen spines as they shot from Chilton’s body like lances. Chips of concrete clattered to the ground as they penetrated the walls. He screamed again, writhing to get free, but found himself trapped by his own violent transformation. Like an animal, he struggled and clawed at himself as if his rational mind had been overtaken by raw, volatile emotion.

“Take it easy. You’re going to hurt yourself,” you tried to calm him, but you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking.

This was worse than last time. You were sure his spines weren’t half as long when you saw him in his office—even Chilton seemed surprised to be pinned.

You lifted your hands, palms toward him in a steadying gesture, and took a step back into the concrete room.

“Stay back!” he howled, thrashing. “Get away!”

It was tempting. Every muscle in your body wanted to follow his advice and run far away from the indescribable horror before you. But his eyes were still green. Were still terrified. And you had an inkling of why it was worse this time. Maybe he would hate you later for imposing, but it seemed more important right now not to leave him feeling… like a monster.

“It’s OK.” You took another step closer.

“No!”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you. Shh, shh… I’m not afraid, see?”

Rigid spines sprayed from his back and shoulders in a 180-degree arc, leaving only his front accessible. You ducked under one and followed its trajectory to where it met the wall. It wasn’t just pinned by pressure—it had struck the wall with enough force to dig into it like an iron rod. Sawing through might be the only option for getting him unstuck. You wondered if that would hurt. Were there nerves in his spines? You stepped over the next one as you drew nearer.

“You should be afraid! I am just like him!” Chilton tried to turn his head away as you traversed his network of thorns and stood in front of him.

His face was almost entirely inhuman. Tentacles cascaded down from where a nose should have been, and when he opened his mouth in a snarl, they parted like wriggling eels—each with a life of its own—to reveal a jaw that split his face open vertically, crowded with rows of sharp white teeth. The more agitated Chilton became, the more dramatic the effect. Each time he spoke, you caught a flash of teeth that sent shivers racing down your spine. But you continued to move closer anyway, within snapping range.

“Hannibal and I… we are the same. Please—I do not want to become him. Do not let me hurt you!”

“You are not the same. You’re not a killer.”

Chilton let out a choking cry that was all too human. “I killed that nurse,” he said. Concrete groaned as his spines grew longer. A crooked horn sprouted from his head. “I killed Elizabeth Shell.”

“You… you didn’t kill her.”

His breath quickened again. Tentacles sprouted and died and resprouted from his face in a constant fevered motion. “I knew Gideon would kill! I lowered security! I knew what would happen—what I needed to happen to prove that he was the Ripper! I may as well have plucked her eyes out with my own hands and… and feasted on her organs. God… I am the Ripper,” he wailed.

“No…” It never occurred to you that Dr. Chilton would have done such a thing knowingly. Maybe there was something dark inside him that this creature was reflecting. It hurt to acknowledge, and yet maybe you both needed to. “You made a mistake. You did a bad thing, but… Gideon was already a killer. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I drove him to it, manipulated him… I am just as responsible as he is. I am a monster.”

“A monster wouldn’t feel this guilty! You made a mistake, but you won’t make it again, will you?”

Tentacles and spines stopped sprouting. His form stabilized as his wet eyes looked off thoughtfully. He seemed so pathetic… so innocent, almost. Despite the intimating spines and claws that added danger and height to his appearance, his body had the same mass—leaving his frame gaunt and frail, with ribs sticking out prominently. Hollow.

You wanted to protect him.

You knew that was your job at BSHCI. You knew that was why Dr. Chilton suddenly needed a personal secretary when he never had before. Someone to sit outside his door, take his calls, and warn him when visitors wanted to see him. You’d never met the doctor before he was attacked by one of his patients, but you recognized the signs of trauma—the way he flinched easily, avoided contact at first, then the way he clung to you when you earned his trust. The awkward little smiles. The way his cheeks turned bright red when his fingers brushed yours as you delivered his coffee. You couldn’t help feeling protective. Falling in love, even.

Though it was closed for the moment, his mouth was a dangerous black hole with alien arms ready to pull prey inside. It seemed impossible to get close without being dragged into its teeth by instinct. You couldn’t imagine putting your face anywhere near it.

Another step, and your forehead touched his.

“I... I do not want to hurt you,” he pleaded.

“You won’t.”

You leaned into his arms, a hand reaching up to stroke the side of his face. It was covered in fine scales that glistened as if they should be slimy, but were smooth to the touch, like a snake. Sharper thorns sprouting from his skin seemed to retreat before your caress.

He trembled with inner turmoil, hot breath puffing against your chin. Your eyes darted toward the motion of one of his claws rising behind you, and all you could focus on were the way each sharp talon caught the light. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking—if he was going to return your embrace, or prove to you that he was a monster. Would he slash you just to drive you away?

“I smell your fear,” his voice hissed accusingly.

For some reason, of all the reactions you could have had, you started to laugh. It was nervous and tight at first, but then building in confidence at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You’ve got giant claws! Of course I’m afraid! But I’m not running, am I?”

You slid your hand from his cheek and trailed it over his bony neck and the ridges and spines of his shoulders, finding a path for your arms to twine around him. Cuddling closer, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hardly bothered by the writhing tentacles that draped down over you.

“I know you would never hurt me. You’re just going to have to keep showing me there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Shuddering, he breathed in your scent. All his senses were heightened by this form, and he was surrounded by you—your pheromones, your electric field, the radiant heat of your skin. It was like sinking into a warm bath with a glass of fine wine in his hand. He opened his palm and let his predator’s hand sweep harmlessly down your back, holding you close. He could sense the fluttering of your heart in his embrace. It was slower than a creature in terror—slowing the longer he held you. You were not afraid. And he could not imagine hurting you. Whatever he had been worried might happen, whatever awful things he might be capable of, he could never imagine hurting you. You were right. You didn’t have anything to fear.

He exhaled a long, steady breath of surrender. The long spines retracted, pulling out of the walls as they returned to their usual size. He could move again, but didn’t. Not for a long time.

“It’s OK. It’s OK,” you sighed. The scent of your hair was intoxicating.

Eventually, you had to part. Chilton’s eyes darted away as you did—the inky scales on his face emitted a soft bluish starlight, which you were certain was blushing. You could not coax him to leave his concrete prison cell, but he told you where to find some blankets he could live with damaging—linen closet, second floor, third door on the right—and let you make a cozy nest on the bare floors. You made tea, and only cringed a little at his attempts to drink it. It was late, then. You were sleepy, and he was exhausted. Emotionally drained. His mind still raced over everything, still not certain of your presence and inexplicable kindness. You sat in the pile of blankets and had him rest his head in your lap.

“Give me your hand,” you asked, extending yours.

A clawed, scaly hand slid tentatively along the floor. You took it. Held it gently, first observing the long talons protruding like daggers from each finger before slotting yours between them—nothing sharp there. You let out a long sigh and leaned back against the concrete wall. His breath hitched.

He’d never had his hand held in this form, you assumed.

He’d never had his hand held at all, in fact. Not in many years.

It had to be a trap, he thought. No one had ever loved him before. No one could—not like this. Yet, as he fell asleep to your fingers massaging his temple and the soft murmuring of your voice, he let himself believe it. You were always there, protecting him. Smiling at him in the morning.

When you woke up, Frederick was human again, still fast asleep in your arms.