#my arms hurt marginally less than my legs

[turntech-fuckedinthehead]

I may be bedridden from my disability and unable to move but what it does mean is I finally have time to work on requests

[akystaracer22]

Here in the Garden, Let’s Play a Game

Synopsis: A nightmare about paradise, and an attempt to create something new, even the coldest hearts can warm with a careful touch.

Notes

:)

Can you tell I like Adam’s character?

TW: Mild Mind Control, Thought Suppression, and Altered Thoughts in the flashback scene, descriptions of panic attacks, vomit, mild descriptions of gore, unreliable narrator.

As for the latter half: This is what Lucifer meant in Distrust Fall when he said he thought he knew where to start.

Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 3304

Fic under cut!

Adam blinked and pulled his hand away from where it rested against the hide of a boar, where the fuck was he?

Last thing he remembered he was exhausted after another shitty fucking day in hell and went back to his room to sleep, and suddenly he’s in some sort of glade.

Huffing, he gently patted the boar’s side and nudged it up, “C’mon, up you get, I gotta figure this shit out.”

The boar acquiesced easily, trotting away into the foliage as Adam took a look around the scenery to try and figure out where he was.

Long lush green grass that flowed in the breeze in such a way it looked pristine, long natural flower beds carving up the glade in perfect patterns. The trees were a mix of evergreens and impossibilities. Trees he’d never seen together before all coexisting in magnificent harmony.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was…

Adam face blanched at the sudden wind that hit his body, his bare body.

Where were his clothes?

“No no no nononono!” Adam gasped and glanced around in a panic; he wasn’t wearing anything. That wasn’t good- shit he needed his clothes!

He flared his wings out to try and use them to give himself some coverage only to be painfully aware of another fact when nothing happened.

He couldn’t feel them.

He couldn’t feel his wings.

Adam twisted around and stared at his bare back in terror, he was missing his wings, wings he’d had for millennia at that point, wings he’d kept even as he plummeted to hell, ruined as they were they were still his they couldn’t just be gone-!

A loud whimper slipped off his tongue before he could bite it back. He cursed, hating the show of weakness only marginally less than he hated being so exposed.

Adam moved forward on unsteady legs, nearly tripping from the sudden lack of weight on his back from his wings. Already he hated the place, it’s perfection reminded him too closely to the garden, just as much as his exposure and lack of wing’s and-

Chink

Adam’s blood turned to ice in his veins at the sound. Glancing down at his right wrist, he found the source.

A small, innocuous golden cuff attached to a similarly gold chain, glowing softly from where it laid against his skin. The chain lead upwards, disappearing into nothingness.

The first man’s breathing quickened as he stumbled forward, instinctively trying to run in the opposite direction of the chain. Shit he was right why the fuck did he have to be right?!

He was in Eden; he was in fucking Eden.

“Adam!”

The first man turned around swiftly at the sound of his wife’s voice, smiling brightly as the angel he was reporting to took their leave, “Eve! My dear you look beautiful as always.”

His wife stopped in front of him, and Adam’s brow twitched, she looked…

Free.

Troubled. Her eyebrows were pressed together, and her shoulders were tense. Her hair looked unusually messy, and her eyes kept darting around as if looking for something.

She doesn’t want Them to see this.

“My dearest, what troubles you?” Adam reached out a hand to her before pulling back abruptly as he noticed something else, Her eyes had darkened to a deep, almost black red. Her chain connecting her to the Lord was absent, “Beloved, where is your shackle?”

“Adam we need to talk,” Is all Eve said instead, moving forward to grab him by the arm and drag him into the foliage surrounding the clearing.

“My dear we must inform our Creator immediately,” Gods first human exclaimed, his chest growing tight the longer he was aware of his partner’s bare wrist, “We are never to be without the shackles that keep us safe this is-”

“Just! Listen to me first,” Eve’s tone shifted abruptly silencing Adam, “I- I know how this looks but I need you to trust me for a second, please.”

“Of course, I trust you dear, but-”

Adam didn’t get to finish as Eve caught his mouth with her own. Kissing him deeply much to the man’s surprise. He didn’t have time to react when something passed between Eve’s mouth and his own and he instinctively swallowed whatever it was.

He heard the shackle shatter a second before his mind caught up to it, sending him reeling at the slew of information that struck him all at once.

Memories that he was forced to forget surged into his awareness-

- A passionate kiss with Lilith under the sun-

- A shared meal with an angel- with Lucifer-

- Him, screaming in agony as God cleaved open his chest and reached inside of him-

-A failed attempt to flee while he was still recovering, still reeling from the betrayal and terror as burning bright magic lashed out and dragged him back-

Adam stumbled back away from his second wife – his second wife how in Eden did he ever forget about Lilith – as the reality of the situation finally caught up to him.

They needed to hide. Now.

“Shit I need to get the fucking apple!” Adam yelled, breaking into a sprint even as he stumbled and had to catch himself on the trees as he ran. Animals didn’t even startle as he ran past because fear was an emotion you weren’t supposed to feel, not in Eden.

How the ever-loving fuck Adam was even able to process this was beyond him, but he wasn’t about to try his luck. All it would take is one moment of Gods attention and he’d be unmade and-

Adam bit the inside of his cheek to nip that train of thought in the bud. He wasn’t going to unpack that right now.

He needed to get to the damn tree.

The first man stumbled into a large clearing, immediately hating the exposure before catching golden leaves in the near distance, turning his head he was greeted with his salvation.

A tree with apples pure and divine. It’s trunk a darker colour than normal and it’s leaves a mix of brilliant gold and blinding white.

Adam raced across the clearing; all sense of caution thrown to the wind because he needed to get to those apples-!

A heavy weight slammed into him, knocking him to the ground before something pierced his leg.

Adam cried out in pain before he could stop himself, craning his neck to try and get a look at his assailant only to go wide eyed at the angel pinning him down.

Or, more precisely, the exorcist. Lute.

She was giving him the same hard glare she only really used for sinners or for Vaggie, the one that screamed hatred with every fibre of her being. The thing in his leg was her spear.

“I don’t know how you scum managed to sneak into the garden,” She snapped at him, vitriol poisoning her tongue, “But you’re not getting to that tree.”

“Shit- Lute it’s me!” Adam yelled, trying not to move his injured leg around the spear even as crimson blood – why the fuck was it crimson?! – soaked the ground, “It’s me Adam!”

Lute studied him and for a moment seemed to hesitate, sparking a glimmer of hope in Adam before it was snuffed out with her scowl returning, “No. You’re not. But you need to be fixed.”

Her halo glowed for a gut-wrenching second, before light seemed to travel down the divine chain towards the shackle.

“No nonono shit stop fuck!” Adam shrieked, abandoning sense and uncaring at how his flesh and muscle tore as he tried to shove Lute off, her spear mutilating his leg further, “Lute don’t let Him fucking do this please!”

The light got closer and still Lute did nothing, Adam could only watch the light seep into the cuff and see it glow lightly before-

Adam screamed as he jerked awake, immediately feeling something in his stomach shift and bile surge up his throat.

He stumbled until he hit a door and threw it open, whatever was in his stomach coming back up as he vomited over the railing of his balcony.

He could feel a weight on his back, and he almost cried as he realised it was his wings, instinctively curling them around himself as he sat there against the rails. He shuddered for a moment, shivering despite the heat.

His leg ached despite the fact that it was a nightmare.

It was a nightmare.

Fuck he thought he was about to-

A hiccupping sob slipped out of him, followed by another as he fell apart.

He thought he was going to die in the worst way imaginable. Worse than when the maid stabbed him, or when he fell or even when he died all those millennia ago he thought he was going to be erased.

Shit he thought he was going to be erased and one of his girls was going to watch it happen.

He would rather fall a thousand times over or be stabbed by a thousand angelic weapons then be erased again.

The fallen angel kept sobbing for a few more seconds before forcing his emotions back down again, he wasn’t about to be caught weak like that. Not here. Once before at the fucking graveyard was enough. He was Adam he was gods first man he was- he was the fucking Adam! He needed to get his fucking shit together because someone noticed. Before someone thought to look deeper and see how much of a rotten shit show he was inside.

He didn’t need anyone to see him this pathetic. Not again, not after last time.

.

.

.

“Adam?”

The first man’s eyes widened, and his head snapped over to the balcony next to his. Shit!

“Luci-fer ah hah why the fuck are you awake?!” Adam scrambled to his feet, wings flaring out to balance him even as he gripped the rail.

The king of hell was wearing what was probably casual wear for him, just a dress shirt, his usual pants and shoes combo, and a vest. His brow was furrowed as he took in Adams sorry state.

“I was working on something- are you okay?” Lucifer spread his wings, crossing the gap between their balconies with an ease that made Adam jealous. Lucifer had fallen just like he did and yet he was the one who still kept his wings, who didn’t have to deal with dead weight and could still fucking fly.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

“Go fuck yourself Lucifer, I’m not in the damn mood,” Adam muttered, stalking back inside and going to shut the door on the devil.

“No, no you’re not running from this not after-”

“After fucking nothing,” The first man growled, turning back to scowl at the king of hell who’d put a foot in the doorway to keep Adam from closing it.

“Adam,” Lucifer sounded tired, which pissed Adam off even more, “I’m not letting this one go. Not after what I just saw. You’re talking about this.”

“I’m sorry, why the fuck do you even care?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, why the fuck do you even care?” Adam snarled, mantling his wings on instinct, “First you fucking clean my wings for me, you keep on watching my back for some fucking reason. Then, you go out of your way to catch me when I fall, why? What the fuck is your angle here why the fuck do you care?”

“Can’t I care?”

“You didn’t care in Eden when you abandoned me,” Adam snapped before freezing.

“Oh,” Lucifer blinked a few times before folding his wings and making them disappear, “So that’s it, isn’t it. You had a nightmare about Eden.”

“Why the fuck would I have a nightmare about paradise?” Adam sneered past the twisting feeling in his gut, “Eden was perfect, the only thing I’d have a nightmare about would be the desolate land I was kicked out into.”

“Except Eden wasn’t perfect,” Lucifer pressed, eyes narrowing at the bluff, “It sure didn’t seem perfect when He-”

“Don’t!”

“…”

“…”

They both stood there, the silence staining the air with Adams stupid, foolish, weakness.

“Come on get dressed, we’re going out,” Lucifer huffed, his wings returning to block the balcony like that was an actual escape route.

… shit he was planning on doing that.

“Fine, piece of shit good for nothing-!” Adam grumbled as he threw open the closet and grabbed his shirt, throwing off his night garb with his mind only quietly screaming at him to put something on because he wasn’t wearing anything. It shouldn’t matter anyway; Lucifer had already seen him plenty of times in the past naked.

Still, he couldn’t have gotten his pants on fast enough.

He shrugged on his coat and put on his shoes before Lucifer abruptly grabbed him and dragged him close.

Before Adam even had a chance to curse at him or break out of the grip a shower of bright gold sparks crackled through the air and a warm wind hit his face. He jerked, stumbling out of the kings hold and striking out with a wing even though he knew Lucifer would dodge.

“Would you not?!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Lucifer grinned, clearly anything but sorry, “But it was the quickest way to get here!”

“And where exactly is here? Because this just seems like a whole lot of nothing.”

Nothing but rock stretched out in all directions, they looked to be at the bottom of a cliff and if Adam looked up… was that the hotel?

“Are we seriously in the fucking nowhere around the hotel?!”

“Here me out first!” Lucifer spread his wings instinctively, “Just- I have a pitch for you!”

“Get on with it,” Adam bit out, he highly doubted anything Lucifer could say right now would even be remotely-

“A garden.”

The first mans thoughts cut off, before his brain kicked back in and he just stared at lucifer, “…what?”

“A garden,” Lucifer smiled widely, showing teeth without a threat, “You can use this space to grow a garden.”

“Why the fuck would I grow a garden.”

“You loved it in Eden didn’t you?” Lucifer’s smile shrunk a little into something pitying, It made Adam’s gut churn, “I remember how you used to spend hours talking about just caring for the garden. You were chattering on about concepts your mind couldn’t even comprehend yet as you tended the garden.”

“The soil is inhospitable, nothing will grow.”

“They said that about the land outside of Eden as well, and yet look what you managed.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to have the amount of time required to even begin managing the soil let alone the plant life.”

“I’m sure Charlie can be convinced to give you all the time you need in the day!”

“I can’t get down here.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers at the nearest cliff face, leaving Adam to watch as a set of stairs manifested, coiling through the rock and leading up towards the back of the hotel where his girls were laid to rest.

“I’m not exactly in shape asshole.”

“Well, you’ll be getting in shape as you work on this so that shouldn’t be an issue soon.”

“I-”

“You know you can just say you don’t want to do it right?” Lucifer shut the first man up easily with a look, “This isn’t a mandatory thing, you can just say no and go on your merry way.”

Adam knew that. He didn’t owe Lucifer shit and he didn’t have to do this. He could just walk; the stairs were literally right there now. He could just leave.

His feet stayed rooted to the ground where he stood.

“Well?”

Fuck.

“Just give me a fucking hoe already,” Adam sighed, holding out his hand and glaring at Lucifer.

The devil in question looked absolutely delighted, grinning widely and summoning-

“The tool, don’t give me a fucking mirror. You’re not funny.”

“Sorry! Sorry, I couldn’t resist the joke,” In a flash the small handheld mirror was replaced with a steel hoe the first man hefted in both hands. He tested its weight before nodding, it’d do.

“I need grass, pomegranate, apricot, strawberry, pear, some flowers- preferably the kinds that won’t fuck up the dirt any more than it already is. And fuck it- you can throw in some hell species as well let’s see how those fuckers play ball. I’ll need a broad fork to start breaking up the soil too.”

Adam had no fucking idea how he was going to make sure the seeds got enough sunlight to grow but fuck he didn’t have many other hobbies aside from trying it.

He stabbed the hoe into the ground and grabbed the broad fork from the air as it formed, mapping out in his mind what land he’s going to have to prep now and where he can just leave it to later. Maybe he can use the shade of some of the outcroppings to his advantage and Lucifer could create water sources, maybe even an underground river to connect them so there is some proper hydration without risk of contamination…

“You know, those seeds are going to take a long time normally to grow,” Adam looked at the other fallen angel as he talked, “Not to mention how long fixing the land will take, you could be doing this for decades.”

“Are you trying to discourage me from this after I just decided to do it?”

“Not at all! I just… have a suggestion.”

“Go on.”

“I can play with the time down here, make the land grow faster and nurture itself quicker. You won’t age unnaturally despite being dead and return to dust of course!” Luci laughed nervously, “But I’ve worked with the spell for long enough so I’m sure it’s safe.”

“… How sure.”

“I’ve tested it with myself.”

“Luci what the fuck.”

“We both know you would refuse immediately If I didn’t do it,” Luci laughed, crouching down, and placing a hand against the barren earth, “You’d rather die than have anything hurt your plants.”

“They’re living creations in their own right,” Adam snorted, “I’m just keeping them safe.”

“And yet at the end of the day you still eat them same as animals.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t eat anything that also wouldn’t eat me at the end of the day.”

“Pigs.”

“They’ve killed and eaten almost five hundred humans in the past two hundred years.”

“Chicken.”

“Have you met them?”

“Plants?”

“They devour any form of meat buried in the soil near them. Look it up, people have buried pieces of meat near plants needing protein and they devour them.”

“Oh, what the fuck.”

“I used to do it too back on earth, buried any meaty remains in the earth to help foster life once I figured that out.”

“Okay!” Luci’s hands glowed brightly, forcing his own magic into the ground in what Adam could only guess was his attempt at changing the topic.

Adam couldn’t see the change as much as he could feel it. The earth under his feet shifting ever so slightly in accommodation to the fallen angels magic.

Lucifer stood up as the glow faded away, dusting himself off, “Well, as fun as this talk was, I’m headed back up to the hotel. Char Char’s gonna be awake soon and I’m hungry.”

The first man snorted at his old friends bluntness, waving the angel of the morning star off as he disappeared into a shower of magic.

Adam turned back towards the barren wasteland, shaking out his wings and stabbing the broad fork into the ground. If he was going to make the best fucking garden hell had ever seen, he had a lot of work ahead of him.

Notes at the end:

In Eden, the only thing adorning both Adam and Eve was these little golden chains that God used to keep them from acting up like Lilith did, when Eve was created the chains appeared on both of their wrists. When Eve bit the apple, it broke her chains. Then, Eve sought out Adam and got him to eat the fruit and well you know the rest. God doesn’t pay attention to Eve because she was made from Adam so she should be perfectly subservient to Adam’s whims (misogyny amirite?) and thus Eve could sneak away and bite the apple.

Saw this from another fic but Adam was awake when the rib was torn from him because I live for that. The cuff stops him from remembering it.

The chains essentially prohibit the bad thoughts™ so as to keep Adam and Eve from straying like Lilith did. Basically, God is actively prohibiting them from having any true free will.

Lucifer explicitly told Eve to get the apple to Adam because he was mildly crushed by the thought of his old friend having gotten his will stripped from him because Lilith didn’t want to be with him anymore. He’s also hurt by the fact that God felt it fit to strip Adam of any notion of friendship, breaking the bond Lucifer so carefully forged with the first man. Lucifer despises that his friend went from treating him like an equal to treating him like Lucifer was leagues more superior to Adam. All that progress reset without any hope of repairing it.

Adams treatment of Lilith and later Eve was a learned behaviour, mainly because he was just following God’s direction.

The chains aren’t the only symbol of Gods control, Adam and Eve’s eye colours were changed from Brown and Mahogony to Gold, and they glowed softly with divine light.

It also caused the two of them to act more like angels than, well, themselves. This is something Adam grew back into the more time he spent in heaven, gaining the habits of the angels he spent more time around than other winners. It’s something that if he was made aware of, he’d despise.

God I love calling the cuff a shackle, because Adam knows the word and what it means but he can’t comprehend the implications because God won’t let him.

Adam had a lot of propaganda given to him when he reached heaven, mostly that Lucifer tricked Eve maliciously to get at Adam and that Adam was in the wrong for trusting his wife for even a second and all that lovely stuff.

Adams exorcist attire and casual gear all has armour that protected his chest, because he is conscious of the fact that he is missing a rib.

In which author uses way too many hyphens for it to be healthy.

Also, you know how mental health was in the past? Yeah? Good because Adam sure fucking knows :)

Toxic masculinity sure is a bitch isn’t it Adam?

Adam’s an unreliable narrator in the second half.

I’ve done so much gardening research for this holy shit.

My problem is that I can’t write dumb characters without giving them some niche that they’re a genius in. For Adam it’s gardening and animal handling. This guy kept up to date throughout the years no matter what. It’s his guilty pleasure. He even was the man behind many parks and gardens in heaven.

I’m losing the try to get Adam to keep holding his grudge against Lucifer for a little while longer battle.

[clockwork-ashes]

@sjmromanceweek

Summary: Elain knows how important the little things are when it comes to her relationship with Lucien.

Elain was humming softly to herself, bright sunshine streaming in through the windows of the small kitchen as she stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing the sugar from the highest shelf.

Lucien had stayed up late the night before, had thrown himself into their bed and had fallen asleep right after giving her a goodnight’s kiss. Lucien had even woken up earlier than usual that morning to close himself in their shared study, not even bothering to eat breakfast.

Elain knew that Lucien was working on finalising a trading contract between the solar courts, and while she cared very little over the details of such business, Elain cared very much about how overworked her husband seemed to be as of late.

Elain would have to speak to Helion about it, she thought.

Adding sugar and milk to her tea, and a lot less sugar and a lot more milk to Lucien’s coffee, Elain checked the time. She had lunch with Nuala and Cerridwen in an hour, something the three of them did every time Elain found herself in Velaris.

Elain stirred her tea and then Lucien’s coffee with the same spoon before she tossed it carelessly into the sink. She always appreciated when Lucien would bring her tea, just the way she liked it, to her desk as she worked, and Elain did the same for him. It was nice, and oddly very flattering, when your partner knew just the way you liked things, Elain thought.

Tucking a stray curl of hair behind her arched ear before grabbing both her and Lucien’s drinks, Elain continued to hum as she made her way to the office. She didn’t bother knocking, bumping the door open with her hip.

Elain had been expecting Lucien to be actively reading over his papers, or furiously scribbling suggestions in the margins of the contract he’d been editing for the past week. Elain had not been expecting Lucien to have fallen asleep, using his arm as a pillow, as he leaned in such an uncomfortable position on his desk.

Elain breathed a small laugh as she walked towards Lucien, setting the drinks down but out of his reach just in case he decided to wake up.

“Lucien,” she said softly, not exactly a whisper but not loud enough to startle him either. Making her way to his side, Elain placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She took a moment to appreciate how lovely he looked when he was resting. “Lucien, wake up.” Surely his back would hurt the way he was sitting, better to wake him up now and send him off to bed, Elain told herself.

She heard Lucien’s sharp inhale and the clicking of his golden eye. “I’m awake,” he mumbled, shifting in his chair, turning his head to blink up at her sleepily.

“I told you, you’ve been working too much,” Elain declared, eyebrows raised.

“I’m awake,” Lucien repeated, blowing a strand of wine-red hair away from his face. “I was just resting my eyes.” He attempted, and failed miserably, to straighten some of the wrinkles on the sleeve of his white shirt.

“Mhm,” Elain rolled her eyes in response, taking hold of her skirts and sitting on the edge of her husband’s desk. “I brought you your coffee.”

Elain had come to find that it really was the little things that made her marriage truly wonderful, knowing each other so well that the mundane and everyday became special.

Lucien smiled at her, the smile that still managed to bring a blush to Elain’s cheeks. “Did you get home from your lunch?”

Elain knocked her slipper-clad foot against Lucien’s leg. “It’s not even noon yet,” she lifted her tea cup to her lips, watching as Lucien scrunched his nose rather charmingly.

“Maybe I have been working too much.” He brought the mug of coffee Elain had left on his desk to his own lips, sighing and relaxing into his chair. “How do you always manage to make the coffee taste like it does in Autumn?” He wondered, more to himself than to Elain.

Lucien did not have to know that she asked Eris regularly for whatever coffee they used in the Forest House, Elain thought. She flashed him a smile as she lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. Leaning towards him, Lucien met her half way so Elain could kiss him softly.

“I make it with love.”

[rainbowoasis]

Away From it All

18+

In and out. In and out.

“Dazai,” Chuuya said. He gave himself a little pat on the back because his voice came out quite even considering the way his teeth were clenching. The car rolled to a stop, slanting in a combini driveway. Chuuya curled his trembling fingers into his jeans to keep from blasting the passenger window to pieces. His skin was hot enough to light a candle.

“Chuuya,” Dazai sang back. His tone was nothing short of irritating to Chuuya’s fried nerves.

“Why are we out of gas half an hour before the concert?” Chuuya asked. He was trying this breathing exercise Mori taught him. The boss was the most composed person Chuuya knew, and yet, inhaling for four seconds and exhaling for eight wasn’t repressing the festering urge to bash the beauty out of Dazai’s face. 

“Ohh, is that the problem?” Dazai plumped his expression into a perfect facsimile of innocence, looking melty and soft enough to bruise with a single poke. It was a skill to appeal to such a facade while embellished in dark makeup and black earring cuffs. Chuuya had to admit, Dazai cut an appetizing figure in his black graphic tee and jacket he wore off the shoulders, belts layered over his waist and thighs.

“Yes! Idiot!” Chuuya couldn’t resist jabbing his elbow into Dazai’s ribs. Piece-a-shit deserved it. Dazai yelped and sheltered against the window, knees bumping the steering wheel in his effort to flee. 

“So cruel,” he hissed, shoving his cheek into the glass and scowling. Well, it was more like a pout, a far cry from the violent glares he used to cast his subordinates in the Port Mafia. Chuuya was relieved. Dazai could wear many faces but childlike roundness suited him best. He was glad Dazai was in the agency. They softened his edges in a way the mafia never could, even if by only a margin. 

“Come to think of it,” Dazai tilted his head back against the seat rest. “I do remember Kunikida saying something about the company car needing gas. Huh,” he shrugged and blew an amused sigh through his mouth, “He always has so much to say, guess it slipped my mind.” 

“Dazaiiiiiiiii!” Chuuya kicked at the glove compartment before throwing his legs over it. He frowned at his buckled boots and distressed jeans. “Rotten bastard,” he bit, “You know I was looking forward to rockin out with Three Days Grace.”

“Well taking it out on the glove compartment won’t help,” Dazai said.

“Awww man, my bad. Would you have preferred the beat down instead?”

“Not a chance,” Dazai said, “You know I hate pain.”

“Good,” Chuuya purred. He lifted one hand, curling his manicured nails into the palm of his fingerless glove. “Cause you’ll be in for a world of hurt if you don’t call! A! Tow!” He punctuated each word with a rack of knuckles against the console.

“Please,” Dazai blew at the hair in his face, “You couldn’t land a hit on me if you were licensed in it.”

“It takes less than that to send a douchebag like you to the grave,” said Chuuya.

“Gotcha,” Dazai drawled, tugging on the chain looped around his neck. He tilted his head toward Chuuya, his ‘Challenge. I’m going to say something absolutely insufferable and it’s your job not to make a fool of yourself responding’ smirk plastered on his face. “Then it’s pretty impressive we’ve known each other for so long and you still haven’t managed to do either.”

Of course. It was a damn good thing that Chuuya was distracted with Dazai’s bony, locksmith fingers, otherwise he would’ve flipped the whole car over.

“Go fuck your self,” he breathed, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed behind his rumpled red hair in a makeshift pillow. “And call a freakin tow while you’re at it.”

“C’mon Chuuya, you know I have way more fun fucking you,” Dazai said, and fuck! Goddamnit! Chuuya wasn’t expecting him to just admit something like that, like it was commonplace and sex with Chuuya gave him no need for reservations. Chuuya’s face heated up, bright as his hair as images of nights gone by flashed through his mind and crept up his skin. Last week, Dazai had been so desperate for him, he had tugged off Chuuya’s pants and underwear with is teeth. Chuuya had the way Dazai said his name on repeat, his voice a scratchy whine as if he had been smoking Chuuya and still couldn’t get enough of him.

Well their chances of going to the concert were good and dashed. Maybe Chuuya should make something of this crummy situation and undress Dazai in the sanctity of this stranded car, get him all riled up, ride him and deny him every time he wanted to cum as punishment for his careless crimes. That could salvage Chuuya’s mood, especially if he left a big enough mess for Dazai, Kunikida, or any other agency loon to clean up off the upholstery seating later.

Chuuya popped out of his daydreams just in time to catch Dazai grinning at him, a toothy feline smile that bespoke of underhanded triumph. Chuuya scoffed and shot him his middle finger. An impish laugh sprang free as Dazai reached for him, pinching and pulling at Chuuya’s flushed cheeks like some crazed grandmother.

“You’re thinking about me,” Dazai fluted. His voice lowered to a velvety rumble, “About what you can do to me and what I can do for you right? I knew you would.”

“Your special ability is gonna be a lot harder to use with no hands,” Chuuya snarled, ignoring the rising temperature in his face and physically willing his almost-boner to get lost. He pawed at Dazai’s wrists, but Dazai ducked back with a snicker, evading his attack.

“Get a tow,” Chuuya said again. Dazai whipped his phone from his pocket and swung one leg over the other. Chuuya sighed. He doubted he was actually obeying him, likely playing a game on his phone just to press more of Chuuya’s very few buttons.

“The venue’s an hour and a half away,” Dazai said, “If we start walking now, we’ll miss some of the opening act, but we can still make it in time for Three Days Grace.”

“You serious?” Chuuya said.

“There’s a liquor store on the way.”

“Well thank hell. I’m gonna need something strong to deal with you,” Chuuya swung the door open and hopped from the car. He did a little dance to wake up his muscles and stretched his arms above his head.

“And I’m gonna need a miracle to deal with you drunk,” said Dazai, rounding the car to meet him.

“Eat my ass,” Chuuya grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

“All in good time Love,” Dazai wagged his finger as if scolding a child.

“Stop making sex jokes before I sock you!”

All Chuuya got was another shit-eating laugh. He spat a bunch of venomous invective under his breath as he fished his phone from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He all but jammed a Bluetooth earbud into Dazai’s chin until he took it from him. Dazai slipped the left earpiece in and Chuuya did the same with the other. Chuuya got an indie playlist going, and the pair began their lengthy walk toward the concert venue.

The air was blessedly agreeable that evening, with the sun edging closer and closer to the horizon. Yokohama under skies of honey and rose was such a familiar sight, the celebratory backdrop to so many victories the Armed Detective Agency and Port Mafia pulled off together. Each sunset was a sign of Yokohama’s survival. The air was brisk and nippy, a mercy given the heavy punk wear Chuuya and Dazai were garbed in.

They spoke about career and finance, catching each other up on their recent assignments and gossiping about the members of their respective organizations. The tension seeped from Chuuya’s muscles after half an hour of walking. He liked being outside with no impending missions weighing on his steps. Somewhere along the way, his hand had found itself laced in Dazai’s. Sex was easy, but gentler types of intimacy was tricky. Chuuya feared getting attached, of holding on too tight and losing himself in the process. He knew Dazai as well as he knew the city they both longed to protect. He knew Dazai would never let anything happen to him. He’d catch him if he stumbled and stop him if he moved too fast, but still. Feelings weren’t like corruption, and though he trusted Dazai, he didn’t trust himself. He didn’t trust himself to be stable in the face of true and tender love. As far as Dazai went …

“Is this okay?” Chuuya asked, giving their joint hands a little shake.

Dazai paused in his enthralling tale of the Nakajima kid managing to get stuck in the ADA pantry. He spoke of him with such fondness. That had to be Odasaku’s influence. Dazai had hardly loved anyone in the mafia, and now, his words about his friends and colleagues were laced in an infectious, sugar sweet smile.

“Yeah, this is fine,” Dazai whispered. His grip tightened on Chuuya’s hand. It was hard to say exactly what made the wheels in Dazai’s head turn, and in what direction or at what speed. If Chuuya were to hazard a reliable estimation however, he’d say Dazai’s dilemma was the fear of loss, of loving just to lose. He couldn’t afford anymore holes in his heart.

They walked like that, keeping their hands locked even as they strolled into the liquor store. Chuuya purchased two bottles of red wine, then they crossed the parking lot to another store to get some snacks for Dazai.

“Not too much Chuuya,” Dazai said. Chuuya stopped his chugging and eyed his process as they turned down a street corner. He had only consumed a quarter of his first bottle.

“You know you’re a lightweight,” Dazai said, “Don’t you wanna be sober for Three Days Grace?”

“I can hold my liquor just fine,” Chuuya said, which they both knew was a lie.

“Okay okay, forget I said anything,” Dazai raised one hand in mock surrender. He bit into his KitKat and  made grabby hands. “Can i have a drink though?”

“Don’t try and outdo me now,” Chuuya passed the bottle over to him. It was probably a good thing. His footsteps were light, the way it felt when he manipulated gravity to walk on thin air. The heady desire to drink more, to get more liquid heat into his system was prickling up his spine too. Yes, definitely a good thing that Dazai took the bottle before Chuuya could dig himself an embarrassing, inebriated grave.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dazai rolled his eyes heavenward. He only took a few ginger sips much to Chuuya’s chagrin. He was always in the mood for a challenge. The ones that weren’t rigged by bandaged geniuses anyways.

“So tell me,” Chuuya stuffed his hands into his pockets, “Why’d you actually let the gas run out?”

The bottle slipped in Dazai’s grip, a few drops of wine splashing onto his chin. He was quick enough so that the bottle didn’t fall, catching it by the neck. For a split second his bronze eyes were enormous and his lips parted in a small O, and Chuuya treasured it as one small victory in their ridiculous seven year game of nonsense.

“Oho, you caught onto me huh?” Dazai’s mask of curated cheer and ease slid back into place.

“Duh,” Chuuya said. They came to a four way intersection. The light was green, and Chuuya booted a pebble as they watched the cars pass.

“All right fine,” Dazai said through a suffering sigh. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment and … and … he didn’t say anything at all. The light went red and they hurried across the street. Their walk continued and still Dazai said nothing. Chuuya was not a patient man, but for Dazai and his fragile tangled brain, Chuuya would summon every ounce of tolerance he could. Dazai drifted closer, wrapping his arm around Chuuya’s waist. Chuuya leaned into his shape, inhaling the fresh scent of his jacket. He had purchased it new just for this occasion then. How sweet.

“It’s silly,” Dazai rasped, “But I just wanted to spend a little more time with you before we went.”

Chuuya came to an abrupt halt. Dazai had the Grace not to trip over him.

“Oh Dazai,” Chuuya shook his head. Dazai only stared. He slouched in his jacket. The picture of calm, though Chuuya reckoned he was feeling quite the opposite. He snagged Dazai by his chain and pulled him down to his level. “You’re such a bozo.”

“I know,” Dazai said, lips curving up in a soft smile. Chuuya sealed that smile in a kiss. He tasted Dazai’s moan, chills whispering down his back at the fingers splaying in his hair. What a fool.

Chuuya didn’t regret a second. 

A/N Thanks so much for reading. I simply adore these two! Thank you Season 5 for the soukoku crums 🙏🏾

Regarding real world issues, please keep boycotting if you’re in the U.S like me. Our government is willfully ignoring us so we must target their finances.

wishing everybody luck, love, and safety

[nevertheless-moving]

The attack was shockingly sudden, more than a little personal, and extremely precise. Someone knew exactly where I was, and really, really wanted me dead.

Anything widespread wouldn’t have been able to get through Preservation’s improved security network, but this was perfectly focused enough to slip through (company retaliation against its famous rogue? GreyCris revenge against the construct that fucked them over? the why and how doesn’t really fucking matter right now).

What mattered was that this was the day I had gotten roped into escorting one of the Mini-Mensah’s home from a game or a friend’s house or whatever, so he was right there when the CombatSecUnit dropped out of the fucking sky. Not that it would have been good if one of my adult humans was next to me when I pinged an incoming hostile with about 10 seconds notice, but, well.

It might have been marginally less stressful.

Secunit told me to hide in the bushes and not to look and I did but I could still hear and everything was—it was loud and ugly and screechy and—

Secunit also told me not to be scared, that it would keep me safe, but that was still the most scared I’d ever been.

I really wished I had Crusty with me but he was back at home where I wouldn’t lose him, or Hoppy but I had given him away as a gift. I wanted one of my plushies.

I really, really wanted my parents.

The bad noises stopped and I heard walking towards my bush. SecUnit said that it was okay now but I still stayed where I was. My head felt fuzzy and my arms and legs were shaky.

The bush rustled and I felt Secunit crouch down next to me. I peeked to look at it. It’s jacket was torn; the sleeves were all burnt and bad smelling. The expression on its face was angry and it scared me so I put my head back down.

Then it made a weird creaking noise that I hadn’t heard before so I looked up, and it was opening a panel on its side, which surprised me so much that I forgot that it was rude to stare at it.

It reached in and pulled out a tiny fluffy thing with long ears and a little tail and wait—

It kept hoppy! My cousins had said it just took him to make me feel better and it probably had put him in the recycler. My moms said that wasn’t true and they were right, it still had Hoppy! It had him this whole time!

"Everything's alright now," it said, voice soft and not scary at all. "We kept each other safe, just like you said."

I felt really proud, and the tingly feelings in my arms started to go away. I knew Hoppy would help SecUnit when it was having a bad time, just like he helped me when I had bad dreams (mostly those were when Second Mom was missing).

I had wanted to thank it when Second Mom had come home but I didn’t know how, and then after it helped Amena I knew I had to give it something extra important. I had heard Amena say that it had been hurt while it was keeping her and everyone safe, so that was why I gave it Hoppy, because he was good at taking care of people when they felt bad.

And it had kept it! In a cool bot compartment in its belly! When I got home I was going to ask for a compartment just like that.

"Do you think you can carry him for me while I carry you?" SecUnit asked.

I nodded and held Hoppy tight while Secunit picked me up and started walking home. We were moving really fast but it felt kindof like rocking and I guess I was tired because the next thing I knew I was waking up in my bed at home. My first Mom was sleeping on the chair next to my bed but she woke up really fast when I said her name.

I was still holding onto Hoppy so I told her that I had to give it back to SecUnit. She said that it was at the doctors right now, so I knew I had to bring it to him right away. After I explained about the door in his side that it was keeping him in and how important that I give him back she agreed to take me for a visit. He was sleeping at the doctor when we visited, but my parents and I all agreed that it would be happy to have Hoppy next to it when it woke up.

The first thing I did when I restarted in Medical was run a threat assessment on my surroundings, which returned with an absurdly low Preservation baseline of 9%. I was in a private room of the Preservation’s central medbay, one that I recognized from the last time I got shot, so that was soothing.

Then my drone inputs reconnected (everyone seemed undamaged, guess the attack was just on me), then the feed (confirmation that everyone was safe,, data on the attack that I would review later), then a full diagnostic (huh Preservation medical was getting really good at repairing me). My hips had gotten pretty fucked up- both during the fight when the hostile had literally attempted to rip me and then after. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly easy running while carrying a small human and missing most of a leg, but I really didn’t want to stick around and let the Mini-Mensah get a better look at the scene then he already did.

I was well into re-calibrating my new joints when I finally noticed the tiny stuffed white rabbit tucked against my side.

So. That inspired a whole plethera of embarrassing emotional responses. I desperately hoped no-one had seen me with it, because I knew they would think it was ‘cute’, but someone had to have brought Mini-Mensah here, so. Yeah. That was unlikely.

Fuck it, I guess I was keeping the dumb thing until the small human was grown enough to understand why I didn’t need it.

Even if I got rid of it right away, they would just talk about that, probably sadly, because humans always get attached to small things that have nice textures, especially when they're designed to resemble fauna.

Ugh, I suppose it had turned out to be more strategically useful than I had originally anticipated, and as much as I didn’t want to risk making the mini-mensah cry before but not accepting it, I really, really didn’t want to risk it now.

At least it was tiny enough to protect without creating an undue hassle.

My humans were pretty good overall at not talking to me about annoying things, but I just knew this would be the sort of thing that some of them would have to comment on, if only among themselves.

And it was pleasingly soft.

(iniital plot bunny spark credited to murderbot discord convo)

[hopeintheashes]

@badthingshappenbingo: Anger Born of Worry square.

1.3k. Angst and Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Buck and Eddie. After Buck's decision in 6x04 "Animal Instincts."

Read it below or on AO3.

"So are you ever going to tell me what's going on?"

"What?" Buck's eyes snap up at him from across the table over the pile of plates he's carrying.

Eddie pauses between putting down silverware at each place. "You know, the whole staring-off-into-space thing? Not-hearing-what-anyone-is-saying thing? 'Earth-to-Buckley' thing?"

Buck's face goes hard. "I hear just fine." The next plate goes down with a little more force than necessary.

"That's—" He gestures with a fork, but Buck is pointedly looking only at the table. He sets down the last plate and goes into the kitchen for the glasses. "Not what I meant," he finishes under his breath. "Buck—"

Bobby walks back in to check on dinner, which means everyone else is on their way. Buck reappears with the glasses, lips pressed tight. Bobby blinks at him, then looks at Eddie for an explanation, eyebrows raised. Eddie just shakes his head.

No idea.

. . .

"What?" Sharp and angry.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, and shuts it again.

"You're staring. So: What?"

He wants to push. He's going to have to, eventually. But Hen and Chim are heading their way, ready to sit down for movie night, so he lets it go.

. . .

There's a dim light on in the lounge on his way back from the bathroom at one a.m. He hesitates, but only for a second. If whoever's over there didn't want to be disturbed, they could've hidden in the dark when they heard him get up.

It's Buck, of course. Lying on his back with his legs draped over the arm of the couch, scrolling on his phone with the screen illuminating his face.

"Hi." Standing at Buck's feet.

"Jesus," Buck mutters, but Eddie knows he saw him coming. "What now?"

He sits down on the coffee table. "What now is you tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on." Buck rolls over to face the back of the couch. "Other than you disturbing my sleep."

"Bullshit. On both counts." He puts a socked foot up on the couch and shoves Buck's leg. "Come on. You're supposed to be the one bugging me about shit until I cave. I'm not liking this whole role-reversal thing."

Buck buries his face further into the cushions like he's pretending to be asleep.

"Alright," Eddie says, "I'll just have to guess." He taps his foot dramatically against Buck's leg until Buck kicks him away. "You think you've been cursed by an ancient sorcerer."

"What?" Muffled into the couch cushions.

"You won the lottery and are trying to figure out how to tell us."

Buck groans into the fabric.

More gently: "Your parents are coming to visit."

"Thank fuck, no." Still muffled, but marginally less annoyed.

Okay. Back to the hopefully-absurd. He throws out his hands like he's conveying the plot of a telenovela. "You took this saying yes thing too far and had a one-night stand and got somebody pregnant."

Buck's whole body freezes, shoulders tight. Very carefully even: "I did not have a one-night stand."

Uh. "But you…" He frowns, deeply unsure of where this is going. "Did get somebody pregnant?"

"No!" Buck sits up so suddenly that Eddie has to, too, blinking at the sudden movement in the dimness. "Not…" He deflates, head dropping into his hands, elbows on his knees. "Yet."

Eddie is pretty sure he looks like a fish, mouth moving with no sound coming out. "Um," he manages finally. "What?"

"Not like that," Buck says, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I'm not gonna sleep with her, jeez."

Eddie leans in so close their knees are almost touching, hands hovering at Buck's shoulders. He wants to grab him and shake him, just a little. "Buck. I realize it's one a.m., but as far as I know you're not drunk, so I'm going to need you to make a little more sense than that." He pauses. "Wait. This isn't related to you and Hen being drunk in the middle of the afternoon, is it?" His face twists up in confusion against his will. "They're not…" He shakes his head firmly to cut himself off. If they are trying again, that is Hen and Karen's news to tell him. Buck just definitely didn't seem like their… type.

"Not them," Buck says into his hands. And then, like he's finally reached the fuck it stage in all of this: "Somebody else." When Eddie just waits, expectant, Buck says, "An old friend. He and his wife are trying to get pregnant; they can't; they came to see me; I said yes."

Eddie sits back again, sudden. "Because of that book? Buck."

Buck's eyes flash when he sits up as well. "Not just because of the book. I can make my own fucking decisions, Eddie."

He holds up his hands. "Okay! Yes. You can. Sorry. Just…" Soft. "You don't have to."

"I know I don't have to!" Just the slightest shake in his voice.

"Buck," he says again, heart twisting, because it's everything, right? His past, and his present, and his future, all wrapped into one fucking decision that this guy, whoever he is, had no right to ask him to make.

"Don't—" Buck says, on the verge of breaking. Silence. A shaky breath, and then another, stronger, and he sits up with forced calm. "I thought it through, and I told them yes, and that's that."

It's not. It's so obviously not, and Eddie wants to shake sense into him, and into this other guy while he's at it.

But.

A deep breath of his own. Hands on Buck's shoulders. Steady. "Okay. Whatever you do, I'm here. Alright?"

Buck blows out a breath. Eddie can feel his shoulders come down under his hands. "Yeah. Okay."

Eddie pulls a hand down his face and moves from the coffee table to the couch, grabbing the remote on the way. He looks sideways at Buck. He looks impossibly tired, but Eddie knows him well enough to know he's not ready to lie in bed alone with his thoughts. "You want to watch something?"

Buck nods, and turns sideways on the couch, sliding down enough to rest his head against the back. Eddie knows he's going to end up as a footrest in a minute, here. He offers the remote to Buck, but Buck just shakes his head: You pick.

There's some black-and-white mystery on, already halfway through. He turns the volume down low and sinks down into the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, already falling back into sleep.

Buck shifts beside him and Eddie grunts at the sudden arrival of Buck's feet in his lap. He pulls the blanket from the basket beside the couch and drapes it over himself, and pretends to object when Buck tugs it over himself as well, uncovering Eddie's feet. Some angling gets them both under the fleece, and Eddie opens his eyes enough make sure that Buck's not back on his phone, doomscrolling yet again, but no. Buck's eyes are open just enough to see the screen, following the action back and forth.

"It's gonna be the guy in the hat," Buck says, voice already vague with sleep.

Eddie decides not to point out that it's the 1940s; all the guys have hats. He pats Buck's ankle reassuringly instead, and lets himself slip under, lulled by the murmur of the dialogue and the weight of Buck's feet in his lap.

"Now wait just a minute," one of the characters is saying on screen. "You haven't got this figured out at all!"

Buck stirs, and Eddie opens his eyes and gets his hand moving on his ankle again, and doesn't stop even when Buck stills.

"Hey," Eddie says, quiet enough that he can't tell if the flicker of Buck's lashes is in response to him or just a trick of the movie light. It doesn't matter. He'll tell him again tomorrow, when they're off shift. When things have calmed down enough to really talk it through. To remind him that nothing's happened yet. There's still time.

He squeezes Buck's ankle, warmth in the touch, and closes his eyes. "It's gonna be alright."

[earlgreydream]

mahogany.

| draco x reader | smut |

anon requested. Professor draco ❤️ y/n were in his room just chilling draco reading and y/n getting bored and h-word 🙄 she started to seduce him but he wont give in saying not now blablabla when y/n literally throwing herself to him and he rejects her lol and when y/n touching herself moaning beside him being a brat thats where draco takes control and fucking her like theres no tomorrow

cw: overstim, ‘professor’, masturbation

a/n: I combined these concepts and changed a bit but I hope you love ❤️

“Draco, can’t you take a break? I’ve been waiting all day,” you asked sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stood behind him.

“I’ve got to grade these papers, darling.” Draco spoke, kissing your hand before his focus drifted back to the papers. Yours had already been graded, a nearly perfect score with only tiny corrections in the margins.

.

You’d been secretly dating your potions professor for almost a year. Draco Lucius Malfoy was the youngest, hottest, and smartest professor at Hogwarts, and you’d become instantly enamored with him. All the girls whispered about the young slytherin prince who had returned to teach the class he excelled at.

Your love was scandalous and fiery, and full of love and adoration. Draco was a bit older, and the role of a caring dominant suited him well, guiding you and teaching you. You adored him, and wanted to do everything to make him happy. Typically, you were a well behaved girlfriend, but today he wasn’t so lucky.

You were needy, horny, and you desperately wanted to be fucked. Draco had been overly busy with grading exams and papers, leaving you with less attention.

.

You sat on his desk beside where he worked, absentmindedly undoing the buttons on your uniform top. Draco ignored you, his eyes trailing along lines of script about potion ingredients. His glasses rested delicately on the bridge of his slender nose, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to his elbows as the room warmed.

You reached out and dragged your fingers through his silky white hair, freeing it from the messy bun it had been tied back in.

“Not now, I’ve got to grade,” Draco hummed, squeezing your thigh.

You tossed your shirt on the floor, knowing once he was giving you any ounce of attention, you’d get scolded for. When he didn’t look up, you dropped your bra with it, desperate to get his attention.

“Professor Malfoy?” You whined, gently grasping his jaw and tilting his head up to look at you.

Draco immediately dropped his pen, utterly astounded by the sight of you. You were perched on the desk, wearing just your short little uniform skirt that had ridden up around your waist, and thigh high socks. Your tits were out, on full display for him. Your distraction was working, but your bratty attitude compelled him to deny you a bit longer.

“I just want you to touch me, please,” your sweet voice was lilted with need, and Draco shifted in his chair as his trousers grew tight.

“I know you do, pretty girl, but I’m not finished working.”

“But Professor Malfoy, m’not wearing any panties,” you said softly, flipping up your skirt and showing him your bare skin that was glistening with desire.

He stared at you for a moment, letting his eyes travel along your body and land on your puffy little pussy, that was throbbing from how badly you wanted him. He glanced back up at your eyes before turning back to the papers, wishing more than ever he didn’t have to work.

You were horrified that Draco left you untouched, picking his pen back up and resuming his work. He had to bite back the smirk, amused by your annoyed gasp.

You gave up on him then, deciding to take care of yourself. You stayed beside him, parting your legs and leaving your skirt flipped up. You set one socked foot on his thigh for leverage and slowly started to dip your fingers into your folds. Your touch moved delicately over your skin, drawing tight circles on your clit until you were dripping onto Draco’s desk.

Soft whines were strained in your throat, and Draco swallowed his own moan. He forced himself not to watch you, but the sound of your fingers gliding in and out of your pussy tore all of his attention from his work.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you watched him drop his pen and slide the stack of papers into a drawer, clearing his desktop.

You breathed a sigh of relief when he tugged his sweater off. Your own fingers didn’t come close to reaching the tender places that his could, and you were desperate for him.

Draco sat back in his chair, palming himself through tight black boxers as he watched you finger yourself, your thighs jolting when you brushed your spongey walls.

“Draco, please help me,” you begged, sliding your fingers out when he stared at you.

“I will be glad to help you after you make yourself come.”

“No, I want you.”

“Don’t be bad now, darling. Let me watch you play with that pretty little pussy.”

Draco feigned a sympathetic smile at your whimpers, pulling your legs open farther to inspect your movements. You felt surveyed, like Draco was inspecting your performance.

You pouted at Draco, and he tiled his head to the side. You tried reaching for his hand, and he pushed his chair back a bit more. He was amused by your needy drama, but he was nearing to the end of his patience.

“If you don’t make yourself come in the next five minutes, you don’t get to come at all for the next week, darling.”

You flashed a hurt look, but his gaze was stern, eyes dark with lust. When you hesitated to move, Draco glanced down at his watch, silently daring you to test him.

Your fingers moved down to your clit, trying to get off for your boyfriend. You tensed as the pressure built, and you fell back on your elbows. Draco watched your tits bounce as you drew ragged breaths in your chest, overwhelmed from the pleasure reverberating through you.

“That’s my girl,” Draco praised you, moving in and lightly kissing your swollen clit. You jumped at the contact, startled by the stimulation.

“Darling, you’ve made such a mess on my desk,” he scolded with a smile, watching you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

He gently pushed you to lay back against the wooden desktop, hard and cold under your mostly nude body. You grinned as he undressed, parting your legs and putting your feet on the desk.

Draco dragged your hips to the edge, immediately pushing into your slick pussy. Your overstimulated cry encouraged Draco, who held your hips down as he railed you.

Draco went as rough and fast as he could, fucking you into delirious ecstasy. Your professor satiated your every desire, fucking you braindead on his desk.

“Going to let me come inside this tight little cunt, darling?” Draco asked, his hand pinning your wrists above your head.

“Yes, professor,” you murmured, playing into the taboo of your relationship.

Your walls fluttered around Draco, closing down on him tightly as he forced you to orgasm for the second time, his touch pure electricity on your clit.

He mouthed wet kisses along your breasts, feeling your breath shudder and your back arch off of the mahogany.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” Draco hissed into your soft skin, throbbing inside of you.

Draco’s loud moan echoed in your ears and the sharpness of his teeth against your skin made you shudder. Hot white ribbons were painting your walls, thick and warm. He pulled you up against his chest, holding you close as he filled you with his spend.

“Draco, oh my god,” you gasped, dragging your fingers through his fine hair.

“I want you to feel me dripping out of you for hours,” he growled into your shoulder, leaving another mark on the skin there.

You were feeble in his arms, overstimulated and worn out. His lips pressed kisses to your face, and he got the two of you into a generous hot bath.

Loving hands washed the day from your body, attentive to everywhere you were sensitive. Draco whispered to you and kissed your lips, being extra gentle.

“I won’t be so busy this weekend. We can have a night in, no papers to grade, all my attention on you,” Draco suggested.

“Yes please.”

“Maybe I can make you work for an A then,” he teased, brushing his nose against yours and making you giggle.

[blu-joons]

When You Fangirl Over A K-Actor ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

You couldn’t help the squeal that came from you as Joongki appeared on the screen. “What was that?” Jin asked from across the room.

Your head shook back at him, “I didn’t do anything,” you tried to protest, but his head shook too, picking up on things perfectly.

“You seem to have gotten pretty excited just then,” he smiled, “any particular reason for that?”

“He’s a good actor, don’t you agree with me?”

“Just a good actor?” Jin pushed.

You struggled to stop your smile from growing as your eyes looked back to the screen. “He’s not exactly the worst actor to watch in the world, he has got a pretty handsome face.”

“More handsome than me?” Jin teased, offering you a wide smile, “would you really say that he has got a more handsome face than me Y/N?”

“No one is more handsome than you,” you chuckled back at him, “although I would say that Song Joongki is more definitely a close second in comparison.”

Jin’s eyes rolled at your honesty, “if we ever see that guy at an awards show, I’ll be pulling you straight in the opposite direction.”

“You can’t do that; I would just love the chance to meet him.”

Yoongi:

He knew it was inevitable as he looked across to you as Minho appeared on the screen. “You don’t have to look so excited to see him.”

Your eyes flickered across to look at Yoongi, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t even realise that I was doing anything, I’m just watching.”

“You look like a kid on Christmas morning,” Yoongi laughed, “is Lee Minho what you want this year?”

“He’s a good actor, that’s all that this smile is for.”

“Just the acting?” Yoongi challenged.

You tried your hardest to stay composed, but his stare quickly began to wear you down. “Alright, so maybe I think that he’s a pretty cool guy too, I’ve watched loads of his content.”

“I bet you watch his content more than you watch ours,” Yoongi laughed, poking his finger against your arm, “you’re obsessed with him, right?”

“I’m more obsessed with you,” you tried to assure him, resting your hand against his leg, “he doesn’t compare to you, but I am a big fan of his as well.”

Yoongi’s head nodded, “as long as he doesn’t take my spot as your number one, I guess that I can accept your love for him.”

“Don’t you worry, you know that you’ll always be my number one.”

Hoseok:

A hand hitting down against his arm caused Hobi to jump, looking across at you with intrigue. “What was that for? That really hurt Y/N.”

Your head shook back at him as you tried to point across the room. “Is that the Song Kang?” You asked, trying to show him to Hobi.”

“If anyone can recognise Song Kang in a room, it’s you,” he joked, “if you think it is, it must be.”

“How did I not know that he was going to be here.”

“Are you happy?” He asked.

As your head nodded, Hobi expected nothing less, knowing just how obsessed you were with him. “how am I supposed to stay calm for the rest of the night knowing that he’s here too.”

“If you’re calm enough, I’ll try and take you over to him later,” Hobi vowed, “but only if you promise not to show him how obsessed you are.”

“I would never,” you laughed, resting your head down against his shoulder, “but I definitely think that after speaking to him I would have a complete fangirl moment.”

Hobi’s eyes rolled at your response, “would you say that you’d fangirl over him more than you fangirl over me by any chance?”

“No, but only by the smallest of margins, it’s a close one.”

Namjoon:

The smile on your face caught Namjoon’s attention as the ending credits came up on the screen. “Why are you looking so happy about that?”

A blush appeared on your cheeks as you realised that Namjoon had noticed you, “that salesman is such a good actor, don’t you think?”

“Is it the fact that he’s a good actor?” Namjoon enquired, “or is it something to do with his face?”

“He gives a pretty tough slap, that was harsh.”

“You seem impressed,” Namjoon joked.

You sunk further down in the sofa as Namjoon continued to tease you. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but I’m just trying to enjoy watching Squid Game if you don’t mind.”

“You’re enjoying the salesman,” Namjoon clarified, reading you like a book, “I heard he doesn’t stick around for too long, so don’t get too excited.”

“Don’t say that,” you laughed, throwing the cushion across the room at him, “maybe we might just have to keep rewatching episode one and none of the others.”

Namjoon’s head shook in reply to you, “if I offered just to constantly rewind the part where he slaps Gihun you wouldn’t refuse, would you?”

“Well, it wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing in the world.”

Jimin:

Your eyes lit up as Jimin pointed across the room, noticing someone particular. “Try not to make things too obvious right now.”

Your hands slapped against his chest excitedly, “please tell me that that is not Park Hyungsik? Is that really him Jimin?”

“I told you that he was going to be here tonight,” Jimin chuckled, “you just thought I was lying.”

“Are we allowed to go over and say hello to him?”

“Can you be subtle?” He joked.

Your eyes rolled as a wide smile found its way onto Jimin’s face. “I don’t know how I’m going to react; I think if I just hear his voice, I might go weak at the knees, his voice is amazing.”

“You definitely cannot go weak at the knees in front of him,” Jimin chuckled, “you’ll embarrass me more than you embarrass yourself doing that.”

“Maybe it’s for the best if I just continue to admire from afar,” you suggested, “I’d need some self-control before going anywhere near him and making a fool of myself.”

Jimin’s head nodded in agreement with you, “just please try and look somewhere else every once in a while, tonight.”

“He won’t have my full attention, but maybe just most of it tonight.”

Taehyung:

Your hands clapped together as a familiar face appeared on the screen, drawing a laugh from Taehyung. “Can you stop embarrassing me?”

In reply, your head shook, “how can you expect me not to get excited when my favourite actor is on the screen Taehyung?”

“Your favourite actor is also sat right next to you,” he reminded you, “you get the real thing here.”

“But watching you act just makes me so happy.”

“I can tell,” he sniggered.

Your hand jabbed gently against his waist, “I don’t know why you always try and act so humble when I mention your acting, look at how incredible you look up on that screen right now.”

“I think I look better in real life,” Taehyung tried to argue, but your head shook back at him, refusing to ignore his talents on the screen.”

“There is no other actor that I could love as much as you,” you continued to compliment, winding him up more and more as the smirk on his face grew.

He tried to reach across for the remote, but you smacked his hand away. “Don’t you think it’s time for us to watch something different?”

“No way, this is the only thing that I’m watching all night.”

Jungkook:

You couldn’t help but snigger as Jungkook’s eyes rolled at what you had chosen to watch. “We’ve watched this series so many times Y/N.”

You held your hands up innocently, “this is by far one of the best series ever made, it’s so good to watch when sitting down to dinner.”

“Is the series good to watch?” Jungkook asked you, “or is Cha Eunwoo a good thing to watch?”

“I mean, he’s an added bonus, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re impossible,” Jungkook chuckled.

You continued to defend yourself as Jungkook’s head shook back at you, “I don’t choose to watch this because he’s in there, I’m not as obsessed with him as you think I am.”

“But he’s a good snack to enjoy watching whilst eating,” Jungkook spoke, causing you to burst into a fit of laughter on the sofa beside him.

“Don’t ever say that again,” you scoffed, collapsing into his side, “if you ever call another guy a snack again, I think I might just have to break up with you.”

His head nodded, “I can already guess who you would go running to if you ever broke up with me, I’m sure that he’s a single guy.”

“I’ll take note just in case things go wrong between us.”

---

Masterlist

[luimagines]

Could I pwetty pweashe have a scenario for each of the boys where reader is loopy with fever or from poison and the whole time they are just laying the compliments on real thick and going on and on abt how much they love their boys 🙏🙏🙏

Masterlist

Yeeesssss!!! Will do!

Here we go. Boys under the cut! Immediate Reader!

***

You were trying to go and find some food for dinner at Wild's request and found some interesting looking berries. They looked like blueberries from your world but there was purple thorns on the bush instead, with yellow trimmed leaves.

You grabbed a few and retraced and marked your steps to find your way back to the bushes. You thought that maybe one of the boys would be able to identify the berries and know if they were actually edible or not.

You stashed them away and grinned to yourself. It was a possibility that they were good but if they weren't- there was other ways to use the berries.

You still needed to find food that your group actually is able to eat if the berries aren't worth anything.

You hear your name being called and it startles you enough to take a step back and look behind you.

You trip on a root and crash against the forest floor- falling onto a separate patch of the same berries. Pollen and dew shoot up from the impact and you're forced to inhale it all in.

There's instant discomfort in your lungs and in your head, and you can already feel the multiple places where the thorns have pierced your skin and ripped your clothes.

You take a while to pry yourself out of the bushes, pain littered in all places you didn't even know you could hurt.

You cough and inhale more of the pollen that hasn't settled yet.

A massive headache begins pounding against your temples and back of your head.

You hear your name being called once more but this time in concern and blink away what you can. You groan and try your best to stand, falling to one knee in a coughing fit with pain and discomfort all throughout your joints and muscles.

You look up and smile despite it, a slight giggle of hysteria on your lips. "Hi Link! Guess what I found!"

Warrior "Oh sweet name of the three, what happened to you?" You see Warrior walk up to you and reach out his hand.

You giggle again and reach out to him. He grabs you and tries to lift you back onto your feet but your legs gives out from beneath you and you fall again.

"Hello~!" You lift out your hand and show him the berries. "You know if theses are good or not?"

"Nope." Warrior smacks them out of your hand with a backhanded swing. "Those are known for being highly toxic in.... depressant... components... Don't tell me you ate them?"

You grin and shake your head. "Nope! I didn't know if they were good or not...but I fell~!"

Warrior's face does that thing where he looks concerned but is only marginally capable of hiding it. "On the plant?"

"Link, you're so smart!" You get to your feet and fall nearly on top of him. Warrior is quick to catch you and hold you with his hands on your waist and you grin up at him, adoration pooled in your eyes. "That's what I did~! Man, you're so strong. You're stronger than I thought you were. Your arms are so toned too. I didn't think you had this much muscle."

"Ok. Let's get you to Sky." Warrior rolls his eyes and begins to more or less drag you away from the plants and back to where you think the group is. "Or maybe Four, this is his Hyrule anyway. Maybe he'll know how to get you fixed up."

"See, this is why I like you so much. You're always so fast to come up with a plan and you're so caring. You're so smart. You're so great." You giggle and try to follow his footsteps but find it really hard to put one foot in front of the other.

After what felt like a few seconds, (but was really ten minutes of Warrior fighting you and gravity (not successfully) to keep you upright), Warrior gives up on your non cooperative limbs and picks you up bridal style and begins to carry you away from the infested area.

"Link, I love you."

"I love you too." Warrior waves you off with a playful roll of his eyes.

"No.. but I really love you!" You insist, getting loud for no reason and place your hands on his face. You give him a squish and lean into his space. "You have to understand this. I would do anything to you."

"I know you would." He laughs. "I'd do anything for you too."

He shakes his head out of your hands and grins at you. "I think you're a little drunk from the plants toxins."

"Nuh-uh." You pout. "I'm too strong for that. I'm completely........ ok."

"I believe you." Warrior bites his lip trying to keep his cool before he absolutely looses it. He's both touched by your words and concerned for your well being. He supposes you're more or less drunk and loopey. It's not the most desirable circumstance but he's sure that those cuts on your skin and tears on your clothes can be handled more easily than the up coming hangover.

You fall silent after a second and look up at him. You poke his cheek and his nose and grin, hugging him close and snuggling into his chest and neck. "Has anyone ever told you that you're very handsome?"

"I think that's the more common compliment." He admits.

"And your eyes are very pretty and very blue and you have very long eye lashes and it's all very pretty. And you have a strong jaw."

"Do I?"

"So strong and sharp- it could cut glass." You say seriously. "And your hair always looks very soft and shiny and silky and I want to play with it but I don't want to make things weird. And you're so cool! You're so smart. You're so nice. And you're great with kids and people and everyone likes you so much, so quickly and it's so cool to watch you work and fight and-"

"You're going to keep going forever unless I stop you, aren't you?" Warrior swallows and tries to fight his upcoming blush. He had thought that you were joking for a moment but the more you talk the more it hits that you're being genuine.

You furrow your brows and hit him with the most innocent doe eyes you don't know that you have. "Do you want me to stop?"

Warrior almost trips at that way his heart skips a beat and he chuckles awkwardly. "Actually... No. It's ok. I don't mind."

"You deserve the world, Link." You say finally and go back to resting with your head in the crook of his neck. "I just wish that you could see that, you stubborn man."

"I'll... try my best."

"Good."

Time "Oh no." Time sighs and makes his way over to you. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"My head hurts." You admit and drop the berries from your palm to cradle your temple. "I was trying to look for food... I think I found it but I also... don't."

Time kneels in front of you and places the back of his hand on your forehead. He hisses at the temperature and places his hand under your chin. "Why do you keep finding yourself in situations like this?"

"You boys keeping putting me situations like this." You mutter and try to stand. Your legs fail you and Time lurches in front of you in order to catch you.

"Do you see me as a boy?" Time raises an eyebrow.

"NOT that I'm complaining." You ignore his question and pat his face. "I love you guys, so much but like...This is what happens when I care about people. I end up in stupid situations."

"Maybe Four will have somethin to help out this." Time admits and picks you up without any further thought. "Let get you some help."

"Link, you're so great." You sigh and press your forehead against the crook of his head. His heartbeat is strong and he's cooler than you thought so you sigh in contentment.

"You're so calm and I always feel safe around you and you give the best hugs." You grin against his ear and Time has to stifle the upcoming chuckles from his chest.

"Do I?"

"The best hugs." You reiterate and snuggle closer. "You can ask Wind, he'll agree."

"I'm sure he will." Time let's a snort pass and he nods to Four as he passes. "They fell in a berry bush."

"Blue berries! With pretty leaves and thorns!" You cry out with an arm outstretched to the sky. "Not good for food, no no no, but good."

"Well... I'll start the antidote." Four sighs and walks away to his pack, immediately digging through it for the ingredients that will help you out.

"Four!" You sing and turn your head back into Time's neck. "Isn't Time the best? He's so strong and gentle and nice and he's so great."

Time lets more laughter fall from his lips as he places you on the ground next to his supplies. He says your name with a slight whine and begins to beg. "Please."

"Beeeeeesst hugs." You ignore him.

Four snickers from the other side of the camp and pulls out a bottle.

"I adore you Old Man. I don't think you get told that enough." You continue. "Like, you always try so hard to be a good person. You've gone through so much and you had no reason to start your adventure or to keep helping people and doing stuff but you care so much so you're here still and I think-"

Oh no, Time thinks, you're crying.

"Ok, ok, it's ok." time kneels next to you and puts your hair behind your ear. "No need to be upset. I'm here and everything's ok."

"But you've been hurt so much!" You pout, tears pooling in your eyes. "And yet you're still here and no one thanks you and you try so hard to watch over all of us and even then-"

"That's enough." Time frowns slightly and shakes his head. "I'm just doing what I'm supposed to."

"No one is making you." You pout and lay down on the ground. "You're not listening to me."

"Believe me, I am."

"Here." Four comes up to you and hands you a little bottle filled with viscous green liquid. "Drink this."

"I don't wanna." You pout. "I don't feel good."

"It'll make you feel better." Four tries again, before Time takes the bottle from his hands and uncorks it.

"Drink it." He says, in a tone which means there no room for argument.

"You're such a dad." You complain and grab it from his hand, placing it to your lips and begin sipping it slowly.

Time shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "What are we going to do with you?

Wild "Oh boy, I don't think these are good for eating." He says with a slight grimace. "We should probably not get near these. Let's go clean you up, yeah?"

"WIILLDD!!" You grin and reach your grabby hands in his direction. "Beautiful boy, how are you today~?"

Wild coughs a little and tries to hide his discomfort by avoiding eye contact. "I'm... fine... How are you?"

"Everything hurts~" You admit and look up at him with pleading eyes. "Carry me?"

"Oh boy, sure, why not?" He sighs and wraps around your shoulders and hooks the other under your knees, carrying you effortlessly through the thicket.

"How did this even happen?" He asks out of curiosity.

"I heard you call my name and fell."

"Fell where?"

"In the bush." You mumble with a pout and cross your arms. "It's all pokey and my clothes are ripped and I think I'm bleeding."

Wild bite his lip and hisses. "Sorry."

" 's not you're fault." You look up at him and pat his face. "You're too nice. I just wanted to help and got hurt like stupid me tends to do."

"You're not stupid." Wild scolds you gently. "You are incredibly smart."

"You're the smart one."

"Think so? I think some of the other will disagree."

"Well they can eat my shoes."

Wild coughs out a laugh again in a vain attempt to hide how uncharacteristically serious that was for you and how the unexpectedness of it made him lose it on the inside. "I don't think those would taste good."

"No.... But I need them so maybe they eat my hat instead." You nod to yourself in full serious before gasping slightly. "They should eat Legend's hat instead, then they'll really be sorry."

"Oh my god." Wild snorts and goes to cover his face before remembering that he's holding you.

He jostles' you in the process and the movement cause your headache to flare up. You whine and put a hand to your temple. "It hurts."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Wild frowns and puts the information away for later. "We'll get you back to camp and figure something out ok, maybe you should take it easy for a little bit."

"Link, you're so good to me. I don't deserve it."

"I think you do- I say you do and I'm going to tell Time to keep you down until you feel better."

"Noooo."

"Yeeesss."

"But you're always doing something for someone else, who's going to help you with dinner?" You complain and flop your arms around- regrettably because your head ache flares up once more. "Oh, ouch, ouchies..."

"I think I'll be fine." Wild rolls his eyes. "I've done it before I can do it again."

You hum sadly and shimmy your way into his arm to get more comfortable. "You're a good person. You're so smart. I love hanging out with you. You know that? You're so fun to be around and talk to and you're always so.... good."

Wild looks down on you momentarily before returning to the the forest ahead of him. "Thank you."

"I wish..." You start and cut yourself off. "I wish there was more I could do help you. You help so many people- I think there's someone in every stable in your Hyrule that you've helped... not to mention all of Hateno Village and like- you built Terry Town... It's so good-you're good. I wish more people were good."

"Are people not good?" Wild asks you as he walks through the green.

"I like to think that some are. I don't get to meet a lot of them." You admit and settle your head against his shoulder. "My home's not as nice as here."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm going to miss you guys."

"We're going to miss you too." Wild replies automatically.

"I think I'll miss you most." You hum and close your eyes. "Good people should get good things and you didn't get a lot of good things... Someone should fix that. I want to fix that."

Wild doesn't respond.

Twilight

“Oh!” Twilight winces. “I should have warned you about those. Four told me they’d be in the area and that we’d have to avoid them. You ok?”

“I fell... in the bush.” You pout and begin to sag your shoulders. Guess they weren’t edible after all.

Seems like they’re quite bad actually.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle and try ignore the tears beginning to pool in your eyes. “I didn’t mean too. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Well no, not exactly.” Twilight rushes to your side at the side and brushes off whatever leaves and twigs he can see from your clothes. “Does anything hurt?”

“A lot of things hurt Twi.” 

“Can you be a little more specific?” He tries, with a small tilt to his head.

“My head... and I think there’s a lot of tiny cuts on my arms and back.” You try to stand again and Twilight is quick to help you with a stabilizing hand on the small of your back. “There’s more thorns in the bushes than I thought there’d be.”

“Ok, we’ll get those looked at ok. Four should have something to help you in the mean time.” Twilight takes a few steps with you, wrapping an arm over your shoulder when he realizes you’re more intoxicated than he thought.

You put your full weight against him without realizing it and place your head on his shoulder. “Twilight?”

“Yes?”

“I appreciate you so much.” You take a breath and sigh. “You’ve been the first person there to help me out with whatever this adventure seem to throw at me. You’re always taking care of others... like Wild and Wind and Legend and I know you look up to Time but so many of us are looking up to you too and I guess I want to say thank you. There’s a lot of good in your heart and I’m glad I get to see it.”

“I appreciate you too.” He says in reply.

“But I don’t do anything.”

“I’d beg to differ.”

“You’re too dignified to beg. I don’t think you’d ever have it in you.” You grin. “I admire the way you hold yourself and don’t let anyone talk down to you- like that guy in that old Castle Town- or where ever we were. And like, you can throw a good punch too. I thought you broke that guys jaw!”

“Admittedly... Not one of my greater moments.” Twilight hisses at the memory. Time gave him a nasty look for that one and he’s still working off the penalty for it.

“It was super cool though.” You cock your head to the side, looking at his profile as you stumble through the forest growth. “He totally deserved it, don’t let Time let you think otherwise. I was tempted to punch him too or get get Wild and let him go crazy against the guy.”

“Wild probably would have set him on fire.”

“It would have been funny.”

“No it wouldn’t have.”

“Not to the guy, maybe.” You giggle. “But see, you’re always thinking about others and how’d they react and how to go about things that makes you so smart and you’re so cool.”

“Thank you.” Twilight stops the two of you for a moment and readjusts his grip on you. “Are you feeling any better?”

“No. My head hurts.”

“Well, we’re almost there and then we can get started on fixing this ok?” 

“Ok.” You mumble and go back to mostly resting against the country boy. 

“You’re really great with animals too.” You say randomly. “I’ve never a horse that close with its rider or how all the cats just gravitate towards you.”

“The cat thing I’ll admit is special to me, but are you trying to tell me that the horses of your world aren’t treated right? Because they bond really well with humans and dogs alike.”

“Why dogs?”

“Uh-”

“Well everybody likes dogs, I guess that’s a given. It's not even a question really. I don't know why I asked.” You shrug.

“Yup. That’s what I meant.”

“And no, well I don’t know... I don’t see a lot of horses in my home world so maybe you’re right and I just have bad examples.”

“Of course I’m right.” Twilight says with a grin. “Horses are great!”

“You’re great Link.” You try to hide your laughter at how genuine and boyish he sounded. “I’d take you over a horse any day.”

“Well I’d hope so.”

Wind

"What is it?" Wind tilts his head and steps into your direction, trying to piece together what happened to you with what little information he has. "You look like you got in a fight... and lost."

"I fell the bush of these berries! Look!" You grin beyond the pain in your head and hold your hand out.

Wind walks up to you and picks one up between his fingers, twisting it around before looking back at you. "Are these safe to eat?"

"I have no idea." You answer honestly. "I was going to as Wild if he knew but then I fell in this bush and got hurt so I gotta go get myself checked out."

"Well that explains why your clothes are torn." Wind snorts a little and holds his hand out. "Do you need help?"

You hum and try to examine yourself from the inside. Your head is killing you but you feel loopey and uncentered.

Maybe some help would be nice.

"Yes, please." You take his hand and let him pull you up. "Thank you Link."

"No problem." He grins. "Can you get back to the camp on your own?"

You hum again and try to take a step forward. But your knee buckles from beneath you and you fall the ground again. "Ow."

"Ok, guess not." Wind is by your side within seconds and helps you back to your feet. "That's ok! I'll just help you get to the others and maybe someone will know how to fix you."

"Yay." You giggle and lean on the boy. "Have I ever told you how great you are?"

"No." Wind grins and starts to lead the way. "I don't think you have."

"That's a shame. Shame on me. Because you are one of the best kids I think I've ever met. Don't let anyone change you, ok? You are.... so fun to be around and I'm so glad I met you and I'm going to miss you when this is all over and I think I'm going to try-"

"You think you're going to cry?" Wind looks up at you.

"No no... maybe." You tilts your head and close your eyes, putting your full trust and weight on Wind's shoulders. "I just... you're so good. And you're so happy and excited to see all these new things and I wish I was like that when I was your age, you know?"

"Uh-"

"And I hope that you get to do and see so many amazing things, Link. You're going to change your world, I know it and I'm sad that I won't get to see it."

"Hey-"

"You can't let anyone bully you, ok? There's a lot of people that would want to break your spirit and your joy and there's a lot of things that we want to do to keep you the way you are but there's only so much we can shield you from. I know you don't like it. I know you think you can't take it. But you shouldn't have to. You should have never had to. You should have had a chance like all the other boys and girls to be young and have a childhood and just be a kid but I'm so proud of you." You say and stop the two of you for a moment, pulling Wind in what you try to be a crushing hug.

"You're incredible, you know that?" You lean back and put your hands on his shoulders. "Link, listen, no matter what any else will ever tell you, we adore you. I think you're everyone's favorite, ok? There's so many things I want to show you myself if the Captain would let me.... I doubt he will because there not exactly things kids your age should know. Like throwing knives and hand to hand combat... But I think we both agree that it's all waaaay past that point. So anything goes!"

"Will you really teach me?" Wind lights up at the thought and be jumps a little on his toes in excitement.

"If you're up for it.. I'm sure that others will try to fight me though."

"I'll fight them."

"I don't doubt that pirate."

"What are you two talking about?" Warrior steps up and places his hands on his hips. "We heard you talking but missed it. What is.... what happened to you?"

"I'm just telling Wind how amazing he is and how much I love him and adore him and how cool he is for a thirteen year old and how I couldn't even come close to that when I was his age so I'm a bit jealous-"

"They fell in some freaky looking berry bush and I think they're poisoned." Wind explains over you. "They're acting a little loopey."

"I am. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OK." You shout and push yourself away from Wind, staggering on your feet and eventually falling on your butt onto the forest floor.

The sudden movement flares up your headache and your neck muscles stiffen around your shoulders, making it hard to move your head. "Oh, ow.... My head... That was a mistake. Mistakes were made."

Warrior hisses and sigh after watching you suffer for a hot second. "Alright, I'll go wrangle up some supplies. Can you take them back to camp on your own, Sailor?"

"I was already doing that." Wind raises an eyebrow.

"Alright then, then go back to doing that." Warrior smirks a little. "I'll be back."

He then nods a bit and walks away from your duo as Wind makes his way over to where you fell, pulling you back to your feet and wrapping your arm over his shoulders. "Did you mean what you said?"

"What did I say?" You try to twist your head around to loosen up your muscle and it only slightly works.

"Well... everything you said about me. Did you mean it?"

"I don't remember." You frown and furrow your eyebrows. "Probably... If it's all good things, then yes. Because you are good. And you deserve good things. And you might be the little brother I never had... but I wish you were my brother. You're cool. You're great. I love hanging out with you man."

Wind smiles softly and sits you down on a free spot once you reach camp again. "I can be your brother, it's ok."

"Awesome!"

Sky

"And what exactly did you find?" Sky raises an eyebrow when he sees you. He recognizes the plant but can't remember what it does or why he's seen it before.

"Hm... I don't think that's good." He sighs and walks over to you, picking you up with a sturdy hands on your elbows. "Are you ok?"

"A lot of things hurt right now." You admit. "Are the berries not good?"

"Let's assume they aren't." Sky smiles a bit and wraps arm around your waist to keep you from falling. "I think you should get someone to look at you."

"You have really long eye lashes." You blurt out and gently bring your hand to cup his face. "And I've never noticed how blue your eyes are."

"Ok, those berries defiantly aren't good." Sky snorts and picks your hand off of his face. "Let's get you back to camp, ok?"

"You're like... one of the nicest people here, you know that?"

"Well I certainly try to be."

"And you're always thinking of others and you're so good." You lean against him, putting your full weight onto his side. "I'm so sorry that you have to be here instead of your home. You're so important to so many people Link."

"You think so?"

"I know so." You pat his head with what little arm you reach. "You're at the start of this whole thing... You are... the whole reason Hyrule, as everyone knows it, exists to begin with. It all starts with you. Not everyone has that kind of legacy you know."

"Is that really my legacy?" Sky looks over to you and you grin brightly in his direction.

"Well aside from the stories of the hero I've always heard so much about growing up there's also like the hero lineage as well. Not to mention you also father... the whole Hyrule Royal Family Line. So I'd say you're pretty important. and your legacy is pretty big."

Sky stops abruptly and the suddenness of it sends you right onto the ground. "I'm the start of the line?"

"OOOWWW!!! SKY!" You whine and cradle your head with both of your hands. "That hurt! Why did you do that?"

"Sorry sorry sorry." Sky bends down and helps you back up, readjusting his grip on you a few times to make sure that even if he loses his grip again, he won't be sent careening onto the floor. "That was an accident. I did not mean to do that."

"That was mean."

"It wasn't on purpose I swear."

"Promise?" You rolled your head over and rest it on his shoulder.

"Promise." Sky bite his lip to hold in his laughter. "I'd never do that to you on purpose, not like this."

"Ok. I believe you." You nod. "I think if you really wanted to hurt me, you would have sent your army of birds against me or something."

"I do not have an army of birds."

"But you're building one."

"No, I'm not."

"You are though. Maybe not on purpose... Maybe you don't realize it. You do know that birds flock to you right?" You blinks your eyes up at him. "It's a crazy thing to witness. I think you could easily rule to world with nothing but cuccos by your side."

"What is it with you guys and the cuccos? What did they ever do to you?"

"I can't speak for the others but I say with full certainty that my Zelda has a wicked streak sometime and she was mercilessly attacked by them one day."

"Oh my goodness"

"I told her to leave them alone but noooo, she had to keep hittin' the poor thing and look where it got her. Those little things are ruthless and should be feared. She won't touch them with a ten foot pole now." You nod your head to your story as if you were telling Sky some age old wisdom.

"Does that mean the others-?"

"Most likely." You snort. "Serves them right."

"That would explain that."

"Sky, I'm really glad I know you... as a person and as a friend. I think you're really talented and great and good and I'm so happy you're here."

"I'm glad I met you too." Sky grins and waves over someone from the camp to come help him.

"You're my favorite ok, don't tell the others." You wink in his direction and let yourself be taken away from his side.

"Oh jeeze, thanks." Twilight snorts and picks you up bridal style, taking you further into the camp and laying you down by the small fire they've started.

"I'll take that secret to my grave." Sky smirks.

Twilight huffs a little and stands to leave. "You can take care of them then."

"That was the plan."

"Sky is a brave boy." You mumble from where you've been placed and reach out to him. "He deserves better than watching over a sick sack of potatoes. He's good at helping people. Someone has to make sure that he doesn't push himself too hard. He'll over work himself and then there would no more Sky and the world will be to dark to recover. There's no way we can lose Sky. He's too good."

"Have they been like the whole time?"

"Pretty much." Sky shrugs.

"I think I'm going to throw up." You mumble and try to push yourself upright.

The boys then scramble to try and manage the approaching problem.

It's going to be a long night.

Legend

"Oh for the love of- you look like you took a swim through the underbrush. What did you do?" Legend groans and comes to stand in front of you.

"I went for a swim?" You blink up at him, confused and a little disoriented still. "Is that what happened? I'm not wet... Am I?"

"You're joking." Legend raises an eyebrow and and places the back of his hand against your forehead. "Ok, maybe not."

"I can not believe the legend himself has graced me with his presence." You giggle and try to stand- not very successfully. "What a joyous day indeed."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Legend kneels next to you and takes one of your arms, lifting it up and wrapping it around his shoulders. "You're acting weird... weirder than usual anyway."

"But I love you Legend!" You cry and wrap your other arm around him. It's a clumsy hug and Legend almost throws you off. But considering you can barely stand on your own feet with his support, he supposes some more wouldn't hurt.

If he likes it then he doesn't say anything.

"I think you love the idea of me." He grumbles. "I'm not that great."

"See, you say that but it's not true!" You grin and nuzzle your head against his. "You put on this big tough attitude and your defensive but you love us and we love you and I know you sometimes slip more food onto Wind's pate when he's still hungry but he won't go for seconds. Or how you sneak potions and healing items into our bags when we're not looking and I know you gave Hyrule some of those magic rings of yours to protect him. Or how you banter with Warrior because you try to keep his stress levels low because he gets flashback of the war and we all know he feels responsible for us even if he has no reason to be. You're quick to point out any puzzles that Four misses... magic eyes and all that."

"Have you been watching me?" He snaps and tries to make his embarrassment with anger.

"Yes, because I find you interesting and I've been wanting to get to know you better but you're one prickly pear." You poke his nose and try to keep walking. "You don't let me."

It's difficult.

"I know you've been watching what weapons Wild goes through and keep track of what he's been using the most, what he's most comfortable with... I think you want to get him something..."

"I'm an apprentice blacksmith... I want to see if there's something that will survive that wild rat." He grumbles.

"Ooohh!! Even better! you want to make him something!"

"I hope your fever erases this from your memory... Make it into one big fever dream."

You laugh and try to hide the grimace from your pounding head. "I know you've helped Twilight with something- he seems a little lighter but I don't know what. And I know you've been watching how much sleep the Old Man gets and I know you've been helping him with it. I know you're watching how much Sky has been fighting and how much he travels and you're quick watch his health and his breathing problems."

"Should I be concerned that you've been watching me this much? Because if it were any other person I'd be fighting you and getting a restraining order. It's weird." Legend huffs and hoists you up a little more, trying to keep you from falling.

"You help so many people." You hiccup and groan, the pain in your head becoming a little more than you can hide. "You're always watching everybody else's back. You don't watch your own."

"Who says that?"

"You take care of everyone else but yourself." You whine and hide your face against his shoulder. "But I've been watching your back. It's ok. I know you wouldn't like it but I care about you too much to let you hurt yourself. Someone has to take care of you if you won't do it yourself."

"I can take care of myself!"

"But you don't."

"Hey!"

"MMmm... Don't yell please." You wince and grip his tunic tighter.

Legend stops for a moment and finally looks at your face. It's flushed completely red and you're beginning to have sweat roll down the side of your head. Legend bites his lip and hides the pause behind the pretend need to adjust his grip.

He can't tell if you've gotten better or worse but he's going to bet worse.

"I'll go get Time. Maybe we can figure how to fix this, ok?" Legend gulps a little and returns to dragging you across the forest.

"Ok."

"The things I do for you people."

"You're a good person."

"Hm."

"Link?"

"What?"

"Thank you." You mumble, right into his ear. "We don't say it often but thank you."

Legend feel the tips of his ears go a little pink and he scoffs. "Don't thank me for anything. I didn't do anything."

"You're a good person."

"I'll chock this up to the fever talking."

Hyrule

Hyrule hisses sharply and can already feel the ominous foreshadowing of the hours to come. "Did you get in a fight? Are you hurt? You're bleeding, that's a dumb question, don't answer that."

"Rule!" You reach your hand out. "Best booooy!!! Hello sweet heart, how are you?"

"What happened to you?" He kneels down beside you and begins to heal the miniscule cuts around your arms and your back. He can feel the magic go down your legs and heal what was torn there and come back up to work on the worst of it.

It's a little more damage that he'd like to admit out loud and he's a little worried that there's monsters nearby that would have caught the scent of your blood.

"I fell in the bush... trying to get berries to eat... I was supposed to find food for Wild to cook but I don't think I can do that any more. It's not good that there's not much to forage." You mumble, relaxed by the suddenness of your pain being relieved and the cuts you've sustained leaving your body.

Hyrule frowns and stops his spell. It's a shame he can't do anything about your clothes.

"I feel funny." You say and lean backwards, over judging the distance and force and nearly send yourself back into the bush behind you.

Hyrule snatches your tunic before you can do that and pulls you toward him. "Be careful... Did the bush do this?"

"I dunno." You shrug and frown as you feel the pain begin to come back. "Are you here to bring me back?"

"I might have to regardless. I think you've been poisoned by the plants."

"I feel funny, not dead."

"Well, let's hope that it doesn't come to that." Hyrule rolls his eyes and wraps your arm around his shoulders. "Come on. We need to get you checked out and see if there's anyway to help you."

He's trying to stay calm... but he hopes that it's mostly you being loopey and not actually in any danger. He doesn't recognize the plant- but he supposes that's a given since it's not his Hyrule and he doesn't know the scale of the dangers around here.

"I have a headache again." You groan and don't even try to help Hyrule in lifting you up.

"I... can't really do anything about that. Sorry." Hyrule sighs and readjusts his grip to lift you higher.

This time you do put a little more effort in standing up and slowly, you begin to make your way back to the camp.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with me right now." You mumble and lean against him. "There's so many others things you could be doing right now."

"I don't mind. I'd rather you be ok than do anything else."

"You're a good person." You roll your head back and look at his side profile. "I hope you get every good thing the universe has to offer Link. May your life be filled with peace and happiness and all sorts of good things."

"Like what?" Hyrule finds himself asking. It stuns him and for a moment and he wonders if he's asking because he doubts he'll have it or if it's merely to get you to elaborate more.

"Like many friends and family and holidays and puppies and kitties and candy and good food and good company and cupcakes and lemonade-" You begin to list off.

Hyrule looks back on his life and the people he's met and everything that's happened to him up until this very moment. Enough so that he ignores the rest of your list and only tunes back in when you've past onto a slightly different topic.

"There's so many little things to enjoy in life, you know. I know you're humble and underestimate yourself and I'm trying to change that because you're absolutely amazing and there's a lot you should be proud and show off a little more because you deserve it but I wish you'd let us show you that. " You roll your head around again and try to match your footsteps to his despite the fog in your brain.

You keep talking.

"It might be presumptuous to say this but I think this group may have been the best thing to have happened to you. And that makes me a little sad."

Hyrule stumbles a little and you follow suit. "Sorry, sorry."

"It's ok. You'd never hurt anyone unless they deserved it." You mumble and try to fight against the now pounding sensation in your head.

"Hurting?"

"Yeah... My headache got worse."

"I'm sorry."

"You apologize too much." You groan. "I can't wait to see the day where you do something completely outrageous and just own it, just unapologetically decide that this is the hill you're going to die on and fight every one else about it."

"That sounds like a lot of effort." Hyrule snorts and raises an eyebrow.

"I can't to see what is the stick that takes you there."

"I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"It is now. I said so."

"Of course. Naturally." Hyrule snorts.

"Link, we're friends right?"

Hyrule nearly stumbles again but catches himself this time. "Of course we are! Whatever made you think otherwise?"

"Nothing." You admit. "But I'd to be the kind of person that's on the list of good things your life. Like that list I was talking about earlier."

"I say you are." Hyrule nods to himself and sees the camp in the distance. Relief flows over him and he nearly sags from it. A smiles graces his face as he turns to you and lets you lean on him a little more. "And I'd die on that hill."

Four

"Oh no no no no no, not good, not good at all!" Four hisses and runs to your side. "Did you eat any? Please tell me you didn't."

"Are they not good?" You tilts your head and try to keep your vision on Four but it's kind of hard to focus on just one of him. You don't remember there being so many Fours.

"No! You're not supposed to eat them! They're highly toxic!" Four grips your shoulders and begins to look over your face and check your eyes.

"Did you eat any?" He asks again, stressing the question more than you think is necessary.

You shake your head.

"Oh thank Hylia."

"I feel in the bush though."

Four groans enough that it sound more like a subdued scream. "Why?"

"I tripped." You giggle and try to stand up. "I heard my name AND FELL~! Hehehehe.."

"Ok. This..." Four sighs and looks around your surroundings for a second. He doesn't find what he's looking for. "...is not ideal."

" 'm sorry." You say and feel your lip start to wobble a little bit. "I didn't mean too."

"No. It's my Hyrule. I should have warned you guys. This is my fault." Four scoots in your direction and wraps his arms under your knees and behind your back.

He effortlessly lifts you up bridal style and doesn't hesitate to begin carrying you back to camp. "Time is going to have my head for this."

"No, he likes you too much." You blinks away what you can and try to think beyond the simple thoughts in front of you. "Everyone likes you. you're a likable person."

"Well thank you, but believe me. There are people who don't me." Four says with a snicker.

"Who are they? I'll fight them. Just say their names."

"You don't know them." Four furrows his eyebrows and chuckles disbelievingly.

"I can find them. And then I'll fight them. How dare they not like you!" You shout to the sky and wave your arm around like it's nobody's business. "You're one of the coolest people I know! That I've ever met! And I've met a lot of people! I've met this group! And you're still the coolest! Tell me their names, Link. I won't stand for this."

"It's not a big deal."

"I'm about to make it one."

"I won't tell you their names." Four shakes his head. Mostly because they're gone already so who cares.

"Then point your fingers Smithy because I'll find them and you won't have to worry about them any more." You say with so much resolution in your voice that Four has to stop himself from laughing out loud.

"Believe me, I don't worry about them."

"Oh so someone else got to them then. Good good."

He loses and laughs anyway. "No, not like that."

"There should be only people who love Link! Link haters are not allowed or welcome! Begone with those thoughts!" You cling to him weakly and Four has to grip you tighter to compensate for your flailing.

"Hold still, you're making this harder than it needs to be." Four snorts and shakes his head. "I deserve this. I deserve this and everything that's about to come. I know it. This is completely my fault."

"It's not your fault my head's hurting." You argue and frown. Because it's true. Your head ache tat you've been sporting since the start of your conversation has grown and it's beginning to be impossible to ignore.

"It kind of is, considering that it's a byproduct of the brumble bush." Four sighs. "Luckily, the antidote is pretty easy to make. The down side is that I'm not sure if I have all the ingredients and we're a little too far away from town to get more. I wonder if Hyrule can do something with his magic to help out... or at least lessen the effects so that it wears off."

"Will it last long?" You mumble and cradle your head in your hand. "I don't like this, Link."

"I don't like this either." He says. "If you didn't eat any of it than you should be fine in a few hours and it'll wear off on it's own but I don't think you want to be like this any longer than you have to be."

"Man, Link you're so smart. You know so much." You sigh and rest what you canon his shoulder. "I'm so glad I'm your friend... that we're friends and I want to keep being your friend. Can we keep being friends? Is it possible to be friends throughout different lifetimes?"

"I don't know but we can certainly try." Four grins and makes it back to camp a little easier now that you're so riled up. "I'm glad we're friends too."

"Yay!" You giggle and lay on the ground with little fan fair and with little convincing. "There's no much we have to do still... as friends and as a group. I love you guys!"

"And we love you!" Four snorts. "Get some sleep- it'll go faster. I'll wake you up when I have the antidote."

"Ok Smithy." You let your head hit the ground and close your eyes.

Four looked over his shoulder to where you are and smiles a little wistfully.

Until Time make his way to camp and eyes your torn and slightly bloody clothes before turning to Four with a raised eyebrow.

Four hisses again and raises his hand. "I can explain."

"You better."

[weasleylangs]

opposites attract - f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor.  Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k

A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!! 

P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

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

Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.

Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.

Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment. 

When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.

This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.

She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.

“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag. 

Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’. 

These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’. 

“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?” 

Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.

“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care. 

“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.” 

She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.

“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.” 

-

It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over. 

“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.” 

Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?” 

He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening. 

“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.

“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,” 

They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.

“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”

Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek. 

Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.” 

She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?” 

Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.” 

He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck. 

When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done. 

The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.

“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!” 

She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.

He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”

He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist. 

“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.

“I love you.” 

This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?” 

Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.

“I do, I love you.” 

She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide. 

“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling. 

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 1 - THE DAGGER

A/N: I come bearing a brainchild. One I love deeply but am unsure of how it will be received! Straight off the bat I had planned for this to be something that satisfied those Din cravings we’ve all been having through a healthy dose of smut on the regular. BUT I wanted some background? Some context?? In my head we’ll have a few interactions i.e. chapters before the events of The Mandalorian and then kick off all guns blazing. Therefore, this pilot chapter is short, slow, and not a lot happens. (I should be in sales obv) but let’s get the ball rolling and see where it takes us!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language, slight detail on wounds and their treatment.

Summary:  You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

6ABY, Derelkann, Klatooine.

The first time you met him, he’d been caught with a dagger laced with raquor’daan venom.

You had been locking up the side entrance to the voluntary medical center you spent your time at while on Klatooine when there was a resounding clatter. One of the many piles of discarded junk was toppled by an armored leg; equally armored arms braced by the side of the center while the imposing cut of the figure steadied himself. You could just about hear the labored pants, distorted by the modulator of his helmet; a sound familiar enough to you to know it wasn’t from exertion, but pain. Once you’d determined he wasn’t an immediate threat, weighing the possibilities as quickly as you could, you walked deeper down the alley towards the male. It was dark, the only light coming from the streetlight at the front of the clinic and that which was reflected from the man’s helmet but still you went. 

“Are you hurt?” The helmet snapped around to stare at you and you immediately held up your hands, instinct screaming at you that to startle this man would be like cornering a cantankerous reek during mating season: a bad idea. 

An even worse idea when you realized that your cornered reek was Mandalorian.

Even though you couldn’t see his eyes through the tinted t-visor, you could feel them on you; watching, calculating, assessing what danger you might pose all in a split second before he pushed himself from the wall with a grunt.

“This is a clinic?” He rasped, your eyes instantly following his left hand as it moved to grip above the dull grey tasset that protected his right hip. Trying to smother the pain with pressure, or stem blood loss. You couldn’t tell with his glove and the dark duraweave in the way.

“Well?” He bit out impatiently, jarring you back from trying to assess him from a safe distance.

“Oh, oh yes, yes this is one of the New Republic’s medical outreach centers in the Outer Rim. Please,” you indicated to the door for him to follow you but instead his visor tipped to the left and right marginally. You frowned; he was trying to avoid being seen. Was he wanted? After six months on Klatooine, you had learned to stop asking questions of your patients, so you said nothing. Neither did he as he walked towards the door you had been in the process of locking.

You kicked back into gear. Even though you had mentally unwound for the evening after a twelve-hour shift, you were quickly able to refocus your mind and sped up to keep pace with the Mandalorian. A task, he would probably hate to know, that wasn’t as difficult as it might have been if he was unharmed. His movements were stiff, and it was obvious that he was trying to force his body to walk fluidly despite the obvious pain it was putting him in.

The side door opened onto the main corridor that encircled a number of examination rooms, operating theatres and wards, all pointing inward so that the same power generator could be used for the entire clinic from where it sat in the center. A common feature of New Republic operations; efficient and cost effective if not always the best option. It explained why it was so dim, despite being an all-hours clinic. If they put the majority of the technological functions of the center to rest at night when it wasn’t busy, there were less fear of it being temperamental during the day. Or Maker forbid, a full power outage.

Opening the door to the closest examination room, you quickly pulled off your jacket and tossed it onto the nearest unused flat surface, pointing to the exam table in the corner, “Sit down before you fall down. A diagnostics droid will be here in---”

“No droids.” He hissed; his helmet once more twisting to glare at you even as he lowered himself heavily to sit on the table.

“No droids? Look, the quickest way---”

“You do it. I don’t want any of those things near me, got it?” His words were slurring slightly, and any argument died on your tongue when you realized trying to argue your case was just going to waste time. He was losing consciousness.

You knew you could treat him without the assistance of droids, it was more for convenience and time. But even still, you had spent four years as a combat medic for the Rebel Alliance on the frontline, you knew a thing or two about getting things done quickly.

“Belt. Tasset. Off. Now.” Was all you said as you got down to business and pulled one of the drawers to the side open. You pulled a pair of gloves on before you flicked the examination light on, the sudden glare hurting your eyes momentarily as you approached the large warrior on your table.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” You warned as you adjusted the settings on the light to focus itself to the optimum location for you to get a better look. The duraweave above his armor was dark, blood no doubt but it looked dry. You could feel your skin humming with the anxiety of not knowing what sort of injury was waiting for you underneath that gloved hand but knew better than to try to remove the armor yourself. You might not be a Siniteen, but you weren’t stupid either, to try remove a Mandalorian’s armor without permission.

You could hear the heavy exhales from him through his nose as he pointedly stared away from you, as if his sheer willpower alone would be enough to deter you from your demands.

“Fine.” You bit out and immediately slapped the hand covering his side, the added pressure making the man grunt and his hand instantly retract from the contact on instinct before growling at you in an unknown tongue.

You tuned him out as you lifted a side of the single tear in the duraweave to reveal an angry and inflamed cauterized laceration, the swelling alone telling you how botched the job was. But it was the faint black veins that were slowly growing from the point of contact that worried you. You’d seen this kind of wound before, on Sriluur. It was commonly used in gang warfare that had engulfed the planet since the fall of the Empire.

“Fucking hell, what idiot cauterizes a poisoned wound?” You muttered to yourself, feeling around the edges of the gash lightly and earning a shaky exhale from your patient.

“Are you calling me an idiot?” The Mandalorian bit out as he turned his helmet to look down at you again, his hands fisted at the side of the table. The jolt of pain had revived him slightly.

“If you’re the one who cauterized it, then yeah. I’m surprised you haven’t already killed yourself accidentally with this level of carelessness.”

You stood before the warrior could respond but you heard his snarl through the modulator as you quickly began grabbing the supplies you’d need.

“I’m not going to tell you this won’t hurt because honestly, it’s going to massively suck. It would have been bad enough if you’d shown up with an open wound infected with raquor’daan poison, but we’re going to have to reopen yours if we want to be able to extract the poison.” You threw a sterilized scalpel into the metal pan that hovered beside you, along with gauze, several saline syringes and bactaspray before you walked back over to him.

The armored warrior said nothing and stared at you, a flash of awareness running through you suddenly; that he could so easily kill you, wounded or not.

The silence stretched for several long seconds before the Mandalorian reached down to unbuckle the utility belt around his waist unhurriedly and dropped it beside him so that it wasn’t in either of your way. It was a blatant challenge when he leaned back on his hands, his visor staying trained on you as you narrowed your gaze; the belt could come off, but the tasset stayed on.

In another situation, the act might have been almost erotic, with his fingers unbuckling the belt deliberately slow as if daring you to speak to the contrary. Silent, yet commanding your undivided attention as he made himself comfortable on the table. But alas, the man in front of you was poisoned and that tended to skew the situation away from sexy.

You arched a single brow, picking up the scalpel as you accepted the proverbial gauntlet thrown to you.

“Buckle up, pal.”

***

You were a demon. Hell spawn sent to torment him in his dying moments, doomed to have no peace before the end.

At least, that’s what Din told himself as you set the wicked sharp blade of the scalpel against his skin. The skill with which you sliced open the recently closed wound before he could even blink was both inspiring and chilling. He didn’t know what he expected a medic on Klatooine to look like, but it certainly wasn’t you. You looked much too soft, too young but the unwavering focus in your gaze as you gently pulled the seams of the wound apart told him of an inner steel.

His inner lamentations over demonic medics and soft eyes distracted him fabulously from the pain of the wound he’d received on Sriluur while picking up a quarry up until the hellion squeezed one side of the wound, making him shout at the blend of white hot agony and surprise at which the pain came.

“Fucking hell!” he growled, shifting under your ruthless touch.

“Stop moving, Mando. The poison needs to be pulled out and since you don’t want droids we’re doing it the old fashioned way.” You didn’t raise your eyes to him, even as he glared daggers at the top of your head, a hiss of pain leaving him again as you pressed along the exposed flesh towards the edge of the wound again, his head spinning at the expelled blood, the crimson laced with inky black.

A moment of relief followed as the medic cleaned the wound with the saline solution before she wiped it down and repeated the process of squeezing the poison out followed by a clean.

“Almost there… hang in there. You’re doing great.” Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; the generic medical praise made his stomach churn. It was obvious you had slipped into autopilot, rehashing the same comments that made most patients relax while you shifted to try get the opposite edge. This one being significantly more difficult to clean as the piece of armour that he had flatly refused to take off, was making it awkward to move around.

“Son of a druk throwing skrog!” If he wasn’t in pain, he’d have chuckled at the absolute filth coming from your mouth, putting a pirate to shame while you blew a few stray hairs that had fallen from your tie and into your face during your attempts to shift yourself to better clean the wound. As it was, he just leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, reciting the Creed in his head to distract himself.

He couldn’t decide if you belonged fighting in a shady cantina or leading a triage camp on a battlefield. All he could determine, was that you had a mind that didn’t falter at the lack of technology or use of droids (a rarity these days), you had a mouth that’d make even Paz Vizsla blush and the spine to tell a Mandalorian to remove his armor without the least bit of hesitation. In a word; you were dangerous, and Din never saw the need to experience more danger than he already did, thank you very much.

He tilted his head when he heard you release a breath and sit back on your haunches, running the back of your hand across your forehead, eyes bright as they looked at your work. In what Din could only explain as being delusions brought on by overexposure to raquor’daan venom, a moment of attraction flashed in his mind, kindled when you looked back up at him before he wrangled the feeling away.

Dangerous. Definitely dangerous, he warned himself heatedly.

***

You let out a sigh of relief when the blood from the Mandalorians wound ran clean. It wasn’t a definitive answer to whether you had gotten all the raquor’daan venom out, but it was the majority. At least now you could sleep easy knowing some bactaspray would be able to handle the rest.

You rinsed the wound once more with saline and dried it gently with a clean pad before spraying it generously with the bacta.

“Now then, at least I can say a Mandalorian didn’t die on my watch.” You commented cheerfully, your more easy-going side surfacing now that the immediate danger had been dealt with.

The warrior was silent above you as he watched you peel open a bactapad to cover the wound for extra protection.

“Don’t cauterize it again until you’ve given the bacta at least eight hours with direct contact. That should kill off any of the poison I may have missed and will keep it sterile.” Pushed yourself to your feet, pulling off the stained gloves and throwing them into the pan to be disposed along with all the soiled gauze and pads you had used.

“You’re looking for light pink at the edges.” You told him as you continued to clear up your supplies, “If it’s still angry and swollen at the edges after twenty-four hours you’ll need to return to a medical facility. But I’ll throw in some antibiotics, so you hopefully don’t have to, raquor’daan venom is potent after all. I wouldn’t take any chances if you’re going to say you think it’s overkill.”

You smiled as he lowered his hand, having lifted it to interrupt you, no doubt. You could hear him grumble a bit while he pulled his belt back around his waist, grunting softly as the weight settled on his hip.

“How does it feel?” You probed from the sink, turning your head to look at him as you washed your hands.

“Better.” Was all you got from him but from what you could tell, he was a man of few words anyway.

You nodded and turned back to turn off the tap and started measuring out three days of antibiotics, keeping him in your peripheral as you saw him get to his feet, rolling his shoulders back and turning to look at you.

“Thank you. I appreciate the help.” He rasped awkwardly, obviously not accustomed to actually being helped in these kinds of situations. He fished out a pouch of credits when you approached him to hand him the antibiotics, causing you to frown.

“These medical centers were set up to offer free medical care to those that need it.” You mentioned as you moved out of his way to lean against the table he had been sitting on not five minutes prior.

“I… can only offer you my gratitude then.” He said, nodding to you once more before heading towards the door.

“One more thing Mando.” You called as he opened the door, the beskar helmet turning slightly to indicate he was listening,

“Try not to get yourself killed by accidentally sealing venom into your body again, yeah?”

You laughed at the indignant snort that left the man as he left without a word, his voice trailing back as he walked away,

“If I do, I know where to go.”

And with that, he disappeared back the way he came, no indication that one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy had even been in your examination room.

He was like a tornado, arriving and disappearing in a flash, the wreckage left behind not immediately obvious but when you would look back in the years to come, you’d laugh at how naïve you had been to think you could assist a Mandalorian and still remain an insignificant player on the grand stage of the galaxy.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Would lowkey kill to see Kauri attempting to write poetry in his relationship with Jake era (omg Jake helping him/being the one to write it down) I always forget that he was a writer and loves poetry and I love him 10 times more every time I remember

CW: Some references to past trauma, forced illiteracy, some brief internalized victim-blaming/slut-shaming, Kauri’s low self-esteem

Takes place after Worth the Risk and Kauri’s first glimpse of his own past

“This is fucking stupid. I can’t fucking do this.” Kauri picks up the notebook, hard-backed blue with little golden stars twinkling on the cover, and throws it full-strength across the room until it smacks into the wall and drops to the ground, open to his own scrawling, struggling handwriting.

Chris, wrapped in a big fuzzy blue blanket and curled up in an armchair playing a game on his phone or texting Laken or maybe both, flinches and looks up. “Kauri?”

Kauri looks away from the earnest concern in those huge green eyes and kicks ineffectually at the coffee table, hissing when he doesn’t actually miss and his toes connect with the hard wooden leg. “Fuck. Fucking-... bullshit, I’m an idiot trying to do this, just-... god damn it. I should know better.”

There’s a silence, and then Chris asks, softly, “Know better than, than... than to what? What were you, um, you doing?”

Kauri’s jaw is set and for a second he considers lying. He’s a good liar, after all, and Chris is always so ready to believe him, he wouldn’t even question it. Safer to lie, hide the ideas inside his head, talk instead about something soft and surface-level. 

Safer to be stupid, always.

But he’s trying not to do that anymore.

He’s trying.

“Writing,” He says, finally. “I was... trying to-... write something.” The words are ground out of him nearly against his will. He glares at the notebook lying open on the floor, the scrawling handwriting of the fucked up slut still thinking he can be anything else. Looping and childish, too big almost to fit within the lines. 

“Oh.” Chris pauses, and then brightens, setting his phone aside and straightening up. “You, you sad you think that you used to, to, to, to write, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kauri’s head hurts, a sharp punishing ache. How dare he think in metaphor and simile, how dare he try to build the villanelle, how dare he remember vaguely arguing with someone in a coffeeshop over old poetic forms being superior to poems that don’t even try to fit within a rhythm, and he just-

This is so-

He’s so stupid, thinking he could just pick it up again like it hasn’t been a decade or close, like he’s still whatever stupid shit lived in his body before he-

signed up for this-

followed a fucking hot guy outside in the dark and got thrown into a van and made into Kauri. 

“Well, my... my professor for, for, for, for Playwriting says... says writing is a muscle. You, you have to exercise. And you can’t do the, um, the, the, the-the heavy weights until you start with, with small ones.”

Kauri snorts, derisive, but it’s not because Chris is wrong - of course he’s not wrong. Part of Kauri knows it, too, that he used to write all the time, around the pounding inside his skull he knows that he used to scribble lines on napkins and paper towels and the margins of his study books, bringing together the poem itself only later, usually alone or with a boyfriend on the other side of the room. He used to be able to do this.

He used to do this all the time. 

“I wish Owen had wanted someone who could write a fucking poem,” Kauri says, voice breaking on the tears that threaten. “Maybe then I’d still be able to.” He pushes himself to his feet and stomps over to scoop up the notebook almost violently. “Why are you taking Playwriting, anyway? I thought you wanted to do set design.”

“I, I do.” Chris shrugs, eyes on Kauri, watching him walk back towards the doorway that leads to a hall and then to the kitchen. “But I thought-... I, I, I figured-... maybe if I learn how to, to write a play, it would help... visualize. For, for, for set-building. You, um. You know?”

Kauri exhales, slowly, and then nods. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good plan - I mean, not that I would know, I’m a college fucking dropout, right?” He laughs, bitterness in every word, in every sound.

“No,” Chris replies, simply. “You, you were... abducted. We were, um. We, we, we were stolen. Your words were, um, were stolen, too. That’s what Dr. Berger-”

“Fuck Dr. Berger,” Kauri snaps, and leaves the room before Chris can make any more sense and possibly break apart Kauri’s determined self-loathing while he still wants to soak in it. 

Hating himself for what he can’t do - or what he’s been told he can’t do - is so much easier than trying to do it anyway.

Everything was easier than trying to get better.

So why is he still trying?

Notebook clenched in white-knuckled hands, Kauri climbs the stairs like a man moving to the gallows, one by one, his thoughts a swirling morass of self-hatred, and then he moves into the bedroom he shares with Jake here and stares at the rumpled covers on the bed.

He sleeps here every single night, wakes up to the same face pressed red on one side from the pillow, hears the same deep voice rumbling good morning, feels the same arm slide over his waist, the same scratchy stubble rubbing his jaw when he’s kissed. 

I have generally found, in my work, the fucking therapist’s voice echoes inside him, that when you begin to do the work to rebuild, you will find yourself dedicated over time to reconstructing not just a room, Kauri, but the entire city that was once leveled. Does that make sense?

He’d told her it didn’t.

Kauri spent years dodging therapy whenever Nat didn’t talk him into it, and he hates going. He hates having to spill all the darkness inside him to someone who never stops being so goddamn calm.

But the first time she’d said, have you ever heard about the effect that solitary confinement has on the human mind? He had told her he didn’t know, but he’d started crying, too, and hadn’t been able to explain why. 

Part of you knows, Dr. Berger had said gently. Part of you always knew.

He had never really wanted to know the person who had inhabited this skin, or try to be him again. But standing here looking at the evidence of the life he is slowly building - his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor by the bed, his toothbrush in the little cup in the bathroom, a picture of he and Jake in a frame by the bed now, the very small silver ring he wears sometimes even though they’re not and they probably won’t but it kind of feels good to wear it sometimes... 

He wonders if Liam Harker wanted a life like this one.

---

“It’s really dumb,” Kauri mutters, pulling the pillow over his face, burning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t even really mean for you to see it-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jake says, gently. Kauri feels the dip in the mattress as he sits down, feels the warmth of his hand resting on Kauri’s thigh through the blanket. “I’m sorry I read it. I didn’t know what I was looking at. If it was supposed to be a secret-”

“No. I didn’t. I forgot I left it out on the dresser. It’s not your fault. It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why I even-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice sharpens, a little. “Stop. Stop calling yourself stupid. You’re not, and you never were, and you don’t have to repeat what that asshole told you about yourself anymore, remember?”

Kauri swallows, hard, a lump in his throat he can’t quite breathe around. “When does it stop being his voice,” He asks, muffled, “and start being my own?”

“When you let it,” Jake says, rubbing his leg soothingly. “Just like my dad’s voice. You’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m sorry I read it, but that’s because it wasn’t mine to read, not because it was dumb, or bad. It wasn’t.”

Kauri hesitates, then pulls the pillow to the side, looking at the sincere affection in Jake’s face, his slight smile. “Yeah? You’re not just-”

“Saying that? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not, like, a poetry person-”

“It’s not even a real villanelle, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means. I just... I thought it was pretty good, actually. When I realized-...  I put it down when I realized you were writing about-... you know. Yourself.”

“Liam,” Kauri says, hoarse, barely able to pronounce the name. “I wrote-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes his hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to Kauri’s knuckles. “I know. It’s really good, Kaur. You should keep writing. I promise I won’t look at any stray papers I find anymore, yeah?”

Kauri takes a breath. He feels almost dizzy, in a way that is both terrible and wonderful. The way you open yourself to the people you love is a horrible, amazing risk. The way you spill the darkest parts of yourself, not things you’ve done wrong but the things you are afraid of allowing back into the light, in case it washes them all away again.

But the light he lives in now isn’t cold, and it isn’t taking him away from himself. The light he lives in now is sunlight.

“What?” Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s that face for?”

“Jake. What if-... what if I ask you to? Read them?”

Jake’s lips press together, and he nods, smiling slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Kauri’s hand. He’s always warm, Jake, even on the coldest days. He’s always warm. “I’d be-... be fucking honored, or something that sounds less bullshit than that, but I mean it. I’d be... I love you, Kauri. Seeing inside your head is what I want to do for-... for forever.”

“Maybe I’ll ask then,” Kauri says, and pulls Jake’s hand and then Jake himself, the taller, larger man settling on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest all his weight. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Kauri’s eyes glimmer, but he closes them so Jake can’t see, and kisses his forehead. “It’s nice to think that I’m lucky and mean it.”

“I think you should read your poem to Dr. Berger,” Jake says, and when Kauri groans, he pulls back. “I mean it. She should know.”

Kauri wants to argue, but he looks into Jake’s eyes, and sighs, and says he’ll think about it.

---

AN APOLOGY

I am built from the hollow air left after your heart stopped beating

Your hands still gripped tight to the life they were ending

I know you thought of home but I don’t know where your home is

The sound of my voice is a green valley that only sends back screaming

Covered in smoke and dust that I told myself smelled like cologne

Pathways that remember your laughter silent in the years that followed

Have I done enough to build a life you would have enjoyed living?

I am built from the hollow air left over when your heart stopped beating

The heat of their hands as inevitable as a river tore down every foundation

Their cruelty buried you so deeply that only I remain

I don’t deserve the love that should have been yours to receive

The sound of my voice is a valley echoing back your screaming

I owe you an apology for walking around inside you

Crumbling ruins with my touch and calling it preservation

I’m sorry for every blade of grass growing through our bones

Am I nothing but hollow air from when your heart stopped beating?

-

Wildflowers grow inside me from soil windswept over ash

Is that life worth everything not quite dead so deep below?

Is Kauri Grant good enough to make up for Liam Harker’s loss?

In the valley of my body, does anyone but me still hear you screaming?

I owe you an apology and have to hope the life I live provides it

I wish I could ask for forgiveness from the shape of you  

We’re both ghosts, in the end, mosaic pieces shattered in shadows

I’m sorry that I’m all that’s left.

I built myself from hollow air in the shape of a heart still beating

The sound of my voice will always carry the echo of yours screaming

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @orchidscript @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @moose-teeth @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

[runawaymun]

Hi there! You said you take requests. I'd be happy with an imagine about Elrond x reader drinking tea together (h/c). It could be a herbal tea or just something ordinary. Pretty please! Ofc if you feel like writing it. (If not it's ok too~)

Elrond x Platonic!Reader - Cozy

genre: hurt/comfort/fluff warnings: none, except for enough saccharine fluff to give you cavities for: @ramyun-monster reader pronouns: neutral/they/them

You would think that Imladris, of all places, would be conducive to a good night’s sleep. The air off the mountains is almost always cool and crisp, the roar of the Bruinen contributes pleasant white noise, the crickets sing in the rose gardens, and time itself seems to flow unhurried and unhindered. Still, tonight, you’re finding it difficult to relax. Your thoughts keep wheeling around in your head without any particular pattern, bringing up unpleasant memories and lambasting you with all the things you’re putting off: the little tasks that need doing, the appointments you have to keep. 

It’s pointless to keep lying in bed glaring at the ceiling (even if it is a really beautiful ceiling). Plus, you’re developing a headache. You peel back the blankets and drag yourself out of bed. The library sounds nice. You’ll head there and try and relax, and hopefully later you can try sleeping again. It isn’t terribly late yet. The moon is still low. You’ve got time.

As an afterthought, you grab your journal from the desk by the window. Maybe if you write down everything that’s bothering you, you can stop thinking about it. The floor is cold under your bare feet, and you slip into a pair of house-shoes before heading out of the guest room you’re staying in.

You take the stairs down to the first floor and find yourself in the library in no time at all. It’s empty this time of day save for the librarian --a dark-haired Noldorin elleth who you think (if you’re remembering correctly) is named Iûldis. She gives you a good-natured wave but doesn’t try to make conversation. You return her wave and head past the towering bookcases of ancient tomes and scrolls to a secluded corner that you’ve grown to love.

The library smells of ink and parchment and vaguely of petrichor sifting in from the open windows. You stop on your way to pick out a book to peruse. The corner you like is comprised of an intricately carved cedar desk and a ridiculously plush reading couch flanked with matching reading chairs. It’s the couch that you settle into tonight, placing the little book on the end table and curling up against the armrest to write. 

A pleasant half-hour goes by, but you’re still no sleepier than you began and only marginally less scattered. You set aside your journal in favor of the book. Outside, clouds obscure the moon and rain patters on the terrace. The air turns chilly with a new easterly wind. You shiver and tuck your legs up a bit tighter. That pesky headache still hasn’t gone away. The cold is giving you goosebumps but you’re reluctant to go back to your room just yet.

You catch a whiff of lavender and lemon balm just as someone sets a teacup on the table by your elbow. When you look up, you’re met with a soft smile, warm gray eyes, and an expression that hovers halfway between concern and humor. 

“Riveting reading?” Lord Elrond asks. He’s holding his own cup balanced on a tray in one hand and he has a book tucked under his arm. 

Before you can get up to give him a bow he puts a hand out to stop you. 

You hurry to say: “I didn’t hear you come over, my lord. I’m sorry.”

“Do not be.” He has a thick blanket slung over his arm, and he holds it out to you. “It is a bit cold for you tonight, is it not?” 

You blink and take it, wrapping it around your shoulders and snuggling into it. It’s fluffy and pleasantly heavy, just the right thickness. “A little, yes. Thank you.”

He inclines his head with a little smile and gestures with his teacup to the reading chair next to the couch. “May I join you?”

The first dumb thought that accosts your tired brain is why? Thankfully, you stop yourself before blurting it out loud. He probably has a million things to do so you can’t imagine why he’s bringing you tea and blankets.

...And he’s still standing there, patiently waiting for your answer.

“It’s your house,” you say. You can’t keep the surprise out of your voice. 

“So it is. Still, I find it polite to ask before imposing myself on someone else’s reading.” 

“You’re not imposing,” you say at once. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of an imposition. If you’re honest, you’re absolutely delighted that he’s here asking to join you, offering tea. Ever since you came to Imladris and he offered for you to stay, you’ve admired him. But you’re practically a nobody, and definitely a nobody when compared to him, so you’ve never really worked up the courage to do more than say hello or a few jumbled sentences to him. This opportunity is way too good to pass up.

He sets his tray with its steaming cup of tea on the table between you and takes a seat in the reading chair, placing his book on his lap. There are two spoons on the tray and a few ginger biscuits on a pretty plate and a pot which, as he opens the lid, proves to be filled with honey.

“Would you like some in your tea?” 

You still can’t really believe this is happening. You nod.

He spoons a little bit of honey into your cup and lets you stir it in. Adds some to his own, and says warmly: “I always find that a little bit of lemon balm and lavender is the perfect cure for restless nights.” 

The two of you drink your tea and demolish the biscuits, listening to the rain make music on the roof. He asks you some questions about yourself and where you’re from and seems genuinely interested in your answers, so you’re happy to give them, and he even answers some questions about himself that you’ve been dying to ask him for ages. The time passes by, the rain lets up, and you finish your cup of tea. Before you know it, you’re getting tired. You’ve forgotten all about everything that was bothering you earlier and your headache is completely gone. 

He bids you goodnight with a knowing smile and you go back to your room with that heavy wool blanket wrapped around you like a cloak --and you don’t find it at all difficult to get to sleep. 

[dcbutinamrev]

You Said You Were Mine, I Thought You Were Mine

This just came to me so I figured I'd write it down before it disappears. But basically this is another Hamilton discovery about Manning and we stand a protective Lafayette-

(Some lines are from Duty and Inclination)

~~~

He's married... Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton hisses to himself with clenched teeth as he sits at the aide-de-camp office late one particular evening, a few days to be exact before his dear Laurens returns from the Southern Campaign. Hamilton blinks his opal, blue eyes rapidly breathing in slowly as he holds his breath. He grits his teeth behind his closed, petal pink lips and clutches onto the letter. Hard enough that it crinkles on the margines and his knuckles turn white, white as snow.

Hamilton shakes his head, reading the words that in her handwriting. Her. Her. He growls low, a low rumble of thunder coming from the back of his throat. His eyes are narrowed as they skim through the letter from her addressed to his dear Laurens. Hamilton's lips twist into a tight scowl and his throat burns as he reads her signature in elegant cursive handwriting:

Your dearest wife,

Martha Manning.

Hamilton is thankful none of the others are currently around him. He recalls Meade having an errand to run, Tilghman and the Marquis de Lafayette in the back of the house with General Washington, and Harrison upstairs in his room to work on his corrospondences in peace. Hamilton trembles, the parchment shaking in his clenched hands before tearing the letter to shreds. With a grunt and a snarl, he rips the parchment to pieces one by one.

Hamilton stares at the crumbled pieces of paper that are in a small pile in front of him, huffing and puffing as he tries to catch his breath. Hamilton lets out a choked sob, as he feels something wet trickle down his freckled cheeks before slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sob in hopes it wouldn't cause anyone concern if they were nearby. He wouldn't want to have to explain his situation. He squeezes his eyes shut as he bites his lower, trembling lip and swallows hard, letting out a shaky breath before putting his face in his hands, his elbows digging onto the table. His back shudders with each sob he makes, a choked and strangled sound, a whimper.

He's married...Hamilton thinks again. Of course he would be. Why shouldn't I? God was I really that niave to believe he didn't...? Of course he would be fucking married. Of course! Every man wishes for a wife, I should have expected no less from him...

Hamilton sniffles, blinking his eyes as he lifts his head up from his hands. He remembers the morning the letter was accidentally thrusted into his arms. Was it really just this morning? Hamilton gulps down a few breaths of air, sniffling occasionally and glancing around him, reminding himself of who he is and where he is and his intentions. After he manges to calm himself down, Hamilton scoots back from the table, slumping against the chair as he tips his head back, closing his eyes. He thinks of the days before Laurens left, before he discovered about his wife, before his heart is filled with betrayal. He thinks of the stolen kisses during the night, grimacing at the thought of those same, rough lips and the scrape of the same stubble he loves so much, on that woman's own lips. He thinks of the times he and Laurens would have their romantic evenings: candles lit around their shared bed, Laurens on top of him, shirtless and bare, exposed, revealing those strong muscles Hamilton loved to drum his fingers against, whispering: "Alex...Alex...Alex..."

He remembers clearly Laurens teaching him how to dance after the others had gone to sleep, pushing trunks and chairs and tables back for an open space. Laurens a foot taller than him, rests his larger hand on his waist and with his other hand, intertwining his fingers through Hamilton's slightly smaller hand, stretching their linked hands out to the side while Hamilton rests his hand on Laurens's shoulders, glancing up at the man he thought he loved, at the man who thought loved him, bright blue eyes--blue as the sky on a early spring's morning.

Hamilton grimaces as the thought of that woman crossing his mind, thinking Laurens doing the same for her. Hamilton bites his lip again, shifting himself up into a straighter position in the chair in which he sits in, gripping the edges as he hunches forward. He swallows the lump down his throat, feeling his stomach twists in tight knots. He thinks he might be sick...

"Hamilton?" a voice says, interrupting Hamilton's negative thoughts.

Hamilton glances up to find Richard Kidder Meade finally back from his daily dispatch delieveries. Meade, a man with a strong frame, an inch taller than Hamilton himself, dark brunette wavy hair which is pulled back into a tight braid secured with a black ribbon, his rich chocolate brown eyes are wide, hooked nose, a slight angular, handsome face. Meade stands still at the entranceway, trying to make sense of his surroundings, gripping his black tricorn hat underneath his arm as he slips off his white gloves and tucking them into his buff blue coat pocket. He rushes forward instantly, dropping to his knees to Hamilton's level, shocked at the sight of his hurt friend.

"My God," Meade whispers, gripping Hamilton's shoulder tightly before glancing over his own at the pile of ripped papers before him before turning back towards Hamilton himself. Hamilton, feeling ashamed for some reason though he can't figure out why, ducks his head towards his chest, squeezing his eyes as he wills himself to stay calm. "Alexander...what happened?"

Hamilton shakes his head, refusing to speak. Meade's heart squeezes. He knows something happened, something bad and horrible. Tragic, perhaps? He knows how close Hamilton and Laurens are and perhaps Hamilton have recieved news of Laurens's... No...

"Is it Laurens?" Meade asks softly, calmly.

Hamilton nods shakily, slowly. He keeps his head down, staring at his lap.

Meade swallows. "Is he...?"

Hamilton shakes his head, still refusing to speak.

"He's not dead?" Meade asks.

Hamilton nods, still not meeting Meade's eyes and still refusing to speak.

If Laurens is not dead, Meade thinks, furrowing his brows together. Then what...?

"Why won't you speak to me, Alexander?" Meade whimpers. "Please, I am your dear friend and I care about you...Tell me...I'm worried for you, Alexander. If it's not Laurens...then..."

"It is...it is him..." Hamilton finally whimpers, his voice barely above whisper, tight and choked.

"What about him then? If he's not..."

"You wouldn't understand..." Hamilton sniffs, a stray tear rolling down his cheek.

"Then get me too. Get me to understand! If I can't then find who will," Meade insists, tucking a loose dark red curl behind Hamilton's ear affectionately. "You are like a brother to me, Alexander." At this, Hamilton glances back up at him with a blurried vision. Meade smiles softly. "And I love you as such. And to see you like this...it hurts me..."

Hamilton ducks his chin back towards his chest again, grimacing. Yet, Meade continues.

"It does," he says. "Help me understand, Alex. This isn't like you. I know something happened between you and Laurens. And if it's not because he's dead...then what?"

Hamilton hesiates. He wants to tell Meade about his relationship with Laurens, about his love for him, and about their first kiss, and about their first love together. But yet, Hamilton is frightened at the same time. He trusts Meade with all his heart, and Meade trusts him just the same. But due to society, he fears what Meade will think of him. He fears if Meade will still care for him if he tells him about he and Laurens, he fears Meade will abandon him just like the rest of his family.

"I..." Hamilton chokes, struggling to find the right words. "I can't..." He shakes his head. "I just...I just can't..."

"What was the letter then?" Meade insists. He nods his head, gesturing towards the ripped pieces of parchment piled on top of each other. "What was that about, Alex?"

Hamilton presses his lips together tightly, his deep blue eyes ticking towards the paper and then back to Meade and then back to the paper and then back to Meade again. Hamilton sighs heavily out his mouth, slumping against the chair, his head hanging low in shame.

"It's from his wife," Hamilton finally gives in.

"His wife?" Meade asks. Hamilton glances up at the surprise in Meade's tone of voice. Perhaps Meade hadn't known Laurens was married as well.

Hamilton nods, glancing back at the ripped paper. "Mhm."

"And you're upset about that?" Meade asks.

"Like I said," Hamilton says softly, swallowing the lump of tears that threaten to roll down his cheeks as he turns back to face Meade. "You wouldn't understand."

"It shouldn't be a surprise," Meade says. He gestures towards the papers. "That he has a wife. Shouldn't you be happy for friend's successful matrimony."

Hamilton swallows, licking his lips as he fiddles with the hem of his cuffs. "He hasn't told me..."

A pause.

"He hasn't told me that he's married," Hamilton growls, narrowing his eyes. "If he's married, he would have told me. Why wouldn't he tell me such important information, Kidder? Why?"

Meade just stares at him, unsure how to answer. After a few minutes have passed, Hamilton shakes his head, feeling his lips twist with hatred and betrayal. Meade blinks with wide eyes at the snarl upon Hamilton's face. Hamilton scoots back immediately from his chair, the legs of the chair scratching against the wooden floor. Meade stumbling backwards but luckily catches himself with the edge of the table.

Before Meade could utter a word, Hamilton spins around on his feet sharply and marches towards the stairwell, tears finally escaping down his freckled cheeks as he presses the back of his hand against his lips. Once he reaches out of Meade's line of vision, Hamilton slams his back agaisnt the wooden wall and slides down it.

And never gets back up.

~~~

Hamilton finds himself standing on the front porch the next day, awaiting his dear Laurens' arrival. He curls and uncurls his fists at his side, pressing his lips together tightly as he stares off into the distant woods across the field from him. He swallows hard, shaking his head as he does so, allowing himself a few moments to collect himself.

He straightens up as though he were a puppet and being pulled by a string, his arms stiff as he clasps them behind his back and he inclines his head slightly with his eyebrows high as he hears familiar hooves clopping against the grassy field. Hamilton blinks a couple more times, letting the very few tears that slip down his freckeld cheek just before Laurens comes into view.

Hamilton puffs out a breath of relief, forcing a small, tight smile to form on his face. He feels his eye twitch when he sees Laurens galloping towards him, bobbing up and down on the beautiful Carmillo white horse, gripping the reigns tightly and occassionally snapping them to urge the horse to go faster. As he nears the house, Laurens swings himself off the horse as its still galloping and hands the reigns to a nearby servant.

Laurens stands just at the bottom of the frosted white porch steps, gripping the rail. He smiles softly as he tips his head back to meet Hamilton's beautiful, breathtaking deep blue eyes and lowers the black tricorn hat from his head and tucking it underneath his arm. He slowly climbs himself up the steps.

"Hamilton..." Laurens says softly, his face relaxing instantly with releif at the sight of his dear boy still safe and out of harm's way.

They now stand chest to chest, nearly. It's now Hamilton's turn to tip his head back to meet Laurens's eyes as Laurens looks down at him.

"Laurens," Hamilton says as steadily as he can. Though, he cannot help but hear the low growl coming behind his clenched teeth. He blinks his eyes as he speaks.

"You look well," Laurens comments, scanning Hamilton up and down.

Hamilton swallows as he nods in return. "You as well."

Laurens gestures towards the house behind them. "Might you give me...a...a tour?"

Hamilton glances over his shoulder before back and Laurens, nodding once sternly.

"Right. Of course."

Hamilton turns swiftly, the flaps of his coat flapping behind him with a whoosh and smacking the back of his thighs. Laurens sighs, instantly knowing Hamilton's frustration.

"Here we have the parlor," Hamilton says, gesturing towards a settee and a fireplace on their left. "And our current office." He then gestures towards a large, rectangular wooden table in the middle of the dining room with seven chairs surrounding them, a few candles lit along with opened and closed ink pots and parchment sprawled out around the table. Laurens brows furrows when he notices a small pile of ripped pieces of parchment.

"Upstairs, we have our shared bedrooms and you will be--" Hamilton begins but Laurens cuts him off, catching his elbow before he could climb the steps.

"Alexander," Laurens says sharply. Hamilton tenses as he stills, his one foot on one step. "I know exactly what you ask of me."

Hamilton arches an eyebrow, his eye twitching. "Ask? Ask?" Hamilton whips his head sharply over his shoulder. "Why should I have the need to ask anything when I should have been told!"

"Hamilton, please..." Laurens whimpers.

Hamilton shakes his head, yanking his elbow away from Laurens' grasp and marching up the steps. Fuming.

"Alexander, I understand what you have learned in my absence."

"Yes," Hamilton hisses as he swings a bedroom door open. "I have learned the value of correspondence and how revealing or not it may be."

"You say so, but I believe that is just the crux of it," Laurens says as he fumbles over his own boots as he climbs his way up the stairs, trying to keep pace with Hamilton, hoping he could reach the hurt redheaded boy before the door slams on him. "I am convinced many of my letters to you were miscarried or obstructed and you may not have recieved the whole of my feelings while apart--"

"Oh?" Hamilton says, poking his head through the cracked open doorframe, one hand gripping the doorframe while the other presses against the wall. He arches both eyebrows high. "Did a letter never recieved contain a certain detailed explanation as to the truth of your matrimony?"

Silence.

Laurens clicks his half-opened mouth shut and swallows hard as he narrows his eyes down towards his dear boy.

"That's what I thought," Hamilton hisses. "Now, if you'd excuse me. It's beginning to get late and I am very exhausted so if you please."

Laurens goes to protest but Hamilton slams the door in front of his face before Laurens could utter a word.

"Ah, Monsiure Laurens!" a familiar French accented voice comes from behind Laurens, a voice he knows all too well.

Laurens tenses, looking frantic almost as he knows how close Hamilton and the Marquis de Lafayette are. They seem to be almost like actual siblings than rather just part of a military family.

"You are back!" Lafayette exclaims as he pulls Laurens into a tight embrace.

"Yes," Laurens huffs. "Yes, that I am. It is uh...it's very good to see you again Marquis."

"You as well," Lafayette says. He frowns and furrows his brows. "Where is Alexander? I'd figured he'd be out here to greet you and welcome you home."

Laurens grimaces and swallows, scratching the back of his neck as he shoves a hand into his coat pocket. "Um...he's uh...he's..."

Lafayette arches both eyebrows high.

"Uh...he's um..." Laurens swallows again and gestures his head towards the door. "He's in there. I um...I tried to get him out...but he won't...uh...come out so I thought maybe you could...knowing how close you two are..."

Lafayette nods slowly in understanding before gently twisting the silver doorknob and pushing the door open, poking his head through the sliver crack, a worried expression on his baby-ish face.

"Mon petit lion?" Lafayette says softly. "Are you in here? Do you mind if I come in?"

Lafayette's heart cracks instantly as he steps through after another moment of silence has passed. He sees Hamilton crouched by the fireplace on his knees, hunched over slightly with a stack of letters nearby. Hamilton's dark red hair loose from its tight braid, falling over his shoulders beautifully. Lafayette pinches his lips at the sight before him, seeing Hamilton only wearing his white, linen hunting shirt, the sleeves loose and baggy and his cuffs ruffled and a waistcoat and breeches. No stockings or boots or coat. Just that.

Lafayette has never seen Hamilton looking so broken.

He rushes towards the redheaded boy instantly, looping his arm around Hamilton tightly. "Mon ami...what...what happened?"

"Laurens happened..." Hamilton mumbles in a monotone voice, staring blankly at the fire crackling before him.

Laurens tenses at the entranceway to the room when he feels Lafayette's eyes on him. Lafayette shrugs it off momentarily before turning back towards his broken friend.

"What about him, mon ami?" Lafayette asks softly, stroking Hamilton's tangled dark red curls soothingly.

Hamilton lets out a shuddering breath. "He hurt me..."

Lafayette tenses, breathing in slowly through his nose. He grips Hamilton's shoulders tightly as he slowly cranes his neck over towards Laurens just as soon as Laurens takes several steps back.

"Oh?" Lafayette says.

Hamilton nods as he leans against Lafayette's chest, tossing a letter absentmindedly into the fire before him.

"How...how did he hurt you, Alexander?" Lafayette says.

Hamilton swallows. "He lied to me."

Lafayette raises both eyebrows higher than before as Laurens takes more steps back. Hamilton continues.

"Lied to me for...for...for..." Hamilton chokes. "For nearly a year..."

"Do not speak, mon ami," Lafayette shushes. "I know everything now."

"Gilbert...you do not understand..." Hamilton whimpers into the Marquis's chest. He sniffs and blinks his eyes as he lifts his head from his chest and his eyes lock with Laurens' bright blue ones. Hamilton snarls. "You said you were mine...I thought you were mine..."

"Alexander...you know...I am sorry..." Laurens tries. "I truly am...you know this...you know..." Laurens lets out a shuddering breath. "My heart only cares for you and you alone. I have no intentions towards her. I do not love her. She was a mistake."

"Was your daughter a mistake then?!" Hamilton hisses, tears staining his cheeks. His chin wobbles. "Was I a mistake?!"

Silence.

"If you love me, John, you would have told me you were married instead you lied to me. You lied to me for a fucking year. I had to learn of your matrimony due to a letter accidentally thrusted into my arms!"

"Alex..." Laurens whimpers.

"You and your...your destiny for glory...you and your words...obsessed with your duty."

Laurens tries to reach forword but Hamilton shuts him off. "Alex...please..."

"Don't take another step in my direction!" Hamilton snaps. "I can't be trusted around you! Don't think you can talk your way into my arms!"

Hamilton releases his grip on Lafayette and crawls over to the pile of letters Laurens had written him during their months apart and clutches onto one, holding it dangerously close to the bright orange and yellow flames. Laurens' eyes widen.

"I'm burning the letters you wrote me. You can stand over there if you want. I don't know who you are. I have so much to learn..." Hamilton whispers, tossing the letter into the fire. Hamilton lets out a final choked sob and a final glance towards Laurens before burying his face into Lafayette's chest, unable to hold it in for any longer.

"Get out," Lafayette growls, clutching Hamilton tightly.

Laurens, looking at the two pleadingly, opens his mouth to protest or to explain, Lafayette couldn't care less.

"I said 'Get. Out.'," Lafayette hisses.

Laurens clicks his mouth shut and nods once before the door clicks closed behind. Lafayette puffs out a breath of relief and rests his cheek on top of Hamilton's russet curls, soothing him.

"Laurens?" Lafayette calls suddenly as soon as Hamilton's sobs begin to die down into soft sniffles and he's dozing off.

Laurens opens the door immediately. "Yes?"

Lafayette snarls, a twisted scowl onto his face. Laurens gulps as Lafayette hisses:

"Congratulations."

[novoaa1writes]

honest

pairing(s): daisy johnson x nb!reader, melinda may & nb!reader (familial)

summary:

coming out is never easy—even when you’ve got reliable people in corner.

contains: angst & fluff with happy ending

(also available on ao3.)

word count: ~2,000

rating: teen

warnings: sparring, self-doubt; anxiety (not chronic); muscle pains, bruises, and aches (from exertion); mild language; coming out; discussions of gender and sexuality

notes: 

in my head, this is staged at the playground somewhere in season 2-3ish of marvel’s agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

— —

disclaimer: this is in no way reflective of the experiences of all non-binary individuals everywhere. as someone who’s recently had the realization that i am Not Woman and Not Man and has been subsequently made to have some rather difficult conversations with those closest to me about changing up pronouns, this is simply based off of my own experience and struggles with my gender / sexuality. it’s a uniquely personal thing to come to terms with, and it’s different for everyone.

feel free to message me if you’d like to talk about it!

— —

You let out a long, slow breath, eyeing yourself critically in the bathroom mirror. 

Nervous eyes, shower-damp skin, lower lip swollen and puffy from biting it relentlessly—an obtrusive testament to the overwhelming abundance of unease ballooning in your chest.

Yeah. Seems about right. 

“C’mon, Y/N,” you grumble, taking great care to pitch your voice well below the hum of the fan overhead. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The more insistent you become, the less you believe it. 

“It’s just Daisy,” you continue, silently willing yourself to remain undeterred by the crushing doubt that gnaws away at your insides. “She’ll understand.” 

... But will she?

You frown at your reflection, skin prickling with frustration. “And if she doesn’t…” you trail off, hating the quiver in your voice for betraying your weakness. “If she doesn’t, then you shouldn’t be with her anyways.” Your voice comes out stronger this time, even if the words themselves are enough to scare you shitless. 

You like Daisy. Could grow to love her, even. 

Being with her… it’s made you the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life, and damn it all, but you mean that. 

“She’s going to understand,” you say aloud. “She will.”

God, you pray that that’s true. 

— —

7:00am sees you getting your ass thrown violently all across the mats by an ever-indomitable Melinda May, racking up bruises and scratches and aches like no one’s business. 

By the time 9:00am hits, you’re a wheezing mess, sprawled spread-eagled atop the sparring mats—lungs on fire, chest heaving for breath; sweat-drenched skin littered with technicolored bruising.

In short, it’s hellish. 

“C’mon,” May urges, tone curt and even. She looms imposingly down upon you from above, a decidedly unamused expression gracing her elegant features—and, get this: not a single hair out of place, nor a hint of labored breathing. 

You groan and squint up at her, searching for—

A-ha!

There, just above one immaculately-manicured brow and, like, two millimeters beneath her hairline—a tiny little droplet of perspiration. As you watch, it seems to absorb itself into her flawless skin—disappearing before your eyes like it was never even there. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you grumble. 

May just raises a single brow, offering you a hand up. “Up.”

You frown at her but don’t push your luck; rather, you accept the proffered hand and allow her to pull you to your feet. Your arms and legs and abdominal muscles all scream in protest as you lurch upright into a flat-footed stance, but you grit your teeth and bear it. 

Training with May—torturous (and often humiliating) as it may be—is voluntary. Something you chose, and continue to choose even despite the unadulterated hell it puts your body through with every swift kick and bone-jarring punch.

Not only that, you’re lucky to study opposite someone as fearless, skilled, and fucking terrifying as Melinda May. 

Even when your limbs are all ache-y and sore and burning with a pain beyond your years, you know that. 

Still… 

You probably could’ve done without this today. After all, getting your ass kicked for a solid two hours all across the mats doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. And, considering the conversation you plan to have with Daisy this afternoon, you’re gonna need to muster up all the confidence you can get. 

— —

“Spit it out,” May prompts, sidling up to match you stride for stride as you take a couple cool-down laps around the miniature track (¼ the size of a regulation model)... walking, that is. Not jogging. 

Honestly, you think that if you even tried jogging right now, you’d pass out. 

You spare her a sidelong glance as the two of you round the bend, perfectly in sync. “What?” 

May purses her lips, giving you a look. “You were sloppy today,” she remarks pointedly. “Distracted.” 

Her stare seems to burn holes through the side of your head. 

“Wow, thanks,” you mumble. The sardonic quip tastes funny coming off your tongue.

“You were off today,” May reiterates, sidestepping your wisecrack entirely. Her footsteps are soundless even as the soles of your beat-up Air Force Ones slap the tread audibly with every stride. “That doesn’t happen often.”

“Sure it does.” You shrug. “You kicked my ass today, same as always. If you ask me—” You hesitate briefly at the look on May’s face, which is plainly screaming ‘I didn’t’ “—today’s been anything but out of the ordinary.” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” May remarks without missing a beat. It’s like she didn’t even hear you (which you damn well know that she did). 

Still, you don’t do her the disservice of arguing the point any further. 

You walk another ten paces in perfect silence—no, twelve. You know because you count each one. 

Unsurprisingly, you’re first to break the immersive quiet. “I think I want to tell Daisy.”

May’s impartial expression doesn’t change. “About?”

You almost roll your eyes, but manage to curb the impulse at the very last second. “You know what about.”

Hell, May was the first person you told. You came to her quarters hyperventilating in the dead of night, tears streaming down both cheeks and a sense of such deep-seated discomfort swelling in your chest, your ribs positively ached with the force of it.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You bite your lower lip, apprehension gnawing at your insides. “About…” You trail off, internally scolding yourself. This shouldn’t be so fucking hard. “About me being… non-binary.” 

Non-binary. 

What a flimsy little term. So matter-of-fact… almost scientific in nature. And yet, the way it affects you is nothing short of visceral—all-encompassing and monstrous, compressing your very lungs in an iron-clad vice until it’s agony to draw breath. 

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts ; voicing this simple reality that’s plagued you since you were very small, looming malignantly in the margins of everything you do… and yet, the truth of it rings keen and strong in your ears—clear as a bell.  

It’s liberating and frightful all in one; a grating juxtaposition, to be clear.

“Yes.” The sound of May’s uncharacteristically gentle intonation cuts clean through the blaring noise in your head, yanking you out from a sea of inner turmoil with startling decision. “I’m proud of you.”

Her words—gently-spoken as they may be—hit you like consecutive sucker punches to the gut. “What?” you choke, forcing out a breathless chuckle. 

May—predictably—is staunch, unyielding… wholly undeterred. “You’re being true to yourself,” she insists, matching you step for step as you start in on lap two. Your chest burns something awful and your legs aren’t much better, but you pay it little mind. “That’s no small thing.”

“It’s terrifying,” you tell her. As far as you’re concerned, that’s something of an understatement.

She nods. “It often is.”

“What if… What if I tell her and she doesn’t like me anymore?”

May raises a single brow. “Daisy, a known bisexual who has stated on more than one occasion that the gender binary is ‘stupid’ and ‘exclusionary’? Daisy, who’s been on dates with more than one openly non-binary person in the past?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

May—bless her heart—doesn’t snort or sigh or roll her eyes, but you can tell it’s not for lack of wanting. Instead, she merely slants you a pointed look that says, ‘Exactly.’

You walk the next six strides in silence, your feet aching in your shoes.  

“I’m going to tell her,” you say eventually, a tinge of cautious certainty creeping into your tone. You don’t know who you’re trying to convince—yourself, or May. 

All the same, May is nothing if not steady and dependable amidst stormy seas; she always knows just what to say. (Or, what not to say, as it were.) 

There are no tears, no hugs, no flowery platitudes… nothing but a sharp nod of approval and the barest hint of a grin curving her lips, like she sees you for who you are and she approves—like she’s proud, even. You don’t know how else to translate the tender mercy in her eyes, the way it seems to warm you from the inside out. 

Yeah, you can tell Daisy. 

You’re going to tell Daisy. 

And May’s gonna be right there beside you the whole time.

— —

In retrospect, you definitely could’ve gone about this better. 

Like, you weren’t exactly going for the kind of heartfelt reconciliation you’d see in some coming-of-age sap-fest movie on the big screen; and it’s not as though there’s an exact script to follow for all this, but… 

Pulling away from a decidedly heated kiss to blurt out, “I’m not a woman”—and doing so while you’re half-naked and straddling the lap of a similarly scantily-clad Daisy in bed, no less—definitely hadn’t been your first choice. 

Judging by the expression on Daisy’s pretty features—which is caught somewhere between taken aback and genuinely concerned—she’s coming to the same conclusion.  

To her credit, though, she recovers quickly—though the crease between her brows (a testament to her lingering bewilderment) remains. “What?”

You swallow thickly, carding your fingers through her tousled hair—a nervous habit of yours you’d developed as of late. “I’m…” You sigh, apprehension building in your chest. “I’m not a woman.”

Daisy’s brows raise marginally even as she offers a shallow nod, wide attentive eyes steadfastly holding yours. “Okay…” she begins gently, rubbing circles into the bare skin above your left hipbone with a callused thumb—a subtle nudge for you to continue. 

“I just—I don’t feel like a woman,” you say, and this time it’s easier, even if the sheer measure of honesty in that statement is enough to make your stomach turn. “And I don’t feel like a man, either.”

Understanding flares in Daisy’s pretty brown eyes. “Okay,” she says again. “So, you’re not a woman…” She pauses, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss upon your shoulder. “And you’re not a man,” she continues, lifting her jaw to study you face-to-face, the tip of her pert nose brushing up against your own. “Which means… ?”

“I’m, um,” you squirm a bit, shifting atop her bare thighs, “... non-binary.” Your cheeks are hot, burning with shame, and you have never been so grateful that your skin is tawny enough to conceal it. 

Daisy doesn’t blink. “Okay,” she replies, then leans forth to place a barely-there peck atop your lips. 

You frown down at her, lips tingling. “‘Okay’?” you repeat.  

Daisy grins, leaning in for another kiss—and you’re all too quick to indulge her even as your thoughts spin and disbelief wars violently with consternation within your chest. 

Her lips are soft and warm against your own; when her tongue flits out to trace your lips, you’re parting them in an instant to meet her halfway; the sensation of kissing her is nothing short of euphoric, and you surrender willfully unto it like leaves in the brisk autumn wind. 

Seconds pass, or maybe it’s minutes, but she’s catching your lower lip between her teeth and you’re sucking on the tip of her tongue and— 

Quite suddenly, the kiss has become nothing short of filthy—all open-mouthed and desperate and bruising just how you like, and damn it all, but you can finish the rest of the conversation another time.

For now… well. You’re preoccupied with other things.  

— — 

(Later that night, when you’re both laid up in bed and drifting off to sleep, Daisy asks if you’d like her to start referring to you as ‘they’ and ‘them’ rather than ‘she’ and ‘her.’

When you answer in the affirmative, telling her that nothing would make you happier, the sheer measure of honesty in your words doesn’t feel nearly as nauseating as it did before. 

In fact, it’s rather the opposite.

The way Daisy reacts—a murmured, “Okay”; a feather-light kiss upon your forehead; two strong arms pulling you closer in the dark… well. That’s just icing on the cake. 

Despite everything—the self-doubt, the second guessing, the aching soreness settling into the very marrow of your bones—you feel yourself break out into a broad grin beneath the pitch-dark cover of night.

You feel good; comfortable in your own skin. You feel… happy.)

— —

end notes: i want melinda may to be my friend.

LINK TO MASTERLIST

[maybedefinitely404]

Not Your Typical 2

Genre: college AU, hurt/comfort

Pairings: romantic Demus, background Logicality, and Prinxiety

Content: autistic characters (Logan and Janus), arguments, panic attack/anxiety, ASL, talk of pretty bad ableist parenting/manipulation.

Song mentioned is Electric Love by BØRNS

Word count: 3.3k

“BABE!”

Janus’ head shot up seconds before Remus barreled into their room, clearly having run there, possibly all the way from his night class. He dropped his load of textbooks onto the floor, hopping from foot to foot.

“You have a backpack for a reason,” Janus sighed affectionately. His boyfriend shuffled the empty bag off his shoulders so it fell to the floor with his school supplies and resumed his hopping.

“Listen to this!” He held up his headphones, clearly holding himself back from just popping them on Janus’ head himself. 

“New song?”

“Just listen!”

Janus snorted but put the offered headphones on, watching as Remus restarted the music from his phone.

It began quietly, a lilting melody that was quickly underlaid with a sharp beat. He raised an eyebrow at Remus; it was catchy, but did not seem like his boyfriend’s type of music. There was a surprising lack of… screaming. Or profanity. Or yodelling . 

He had interesting taste in music. 

But Remus just bounced on his toes, nearly wiggling until an electric guitar riff made Janus jump a bit. It wasn’t necessarily a bad jump, more one of surprise, but he gave a thumbs up anyways to reassure Remus. He closed his eyes as the verse began, relaxing in his chair and shutting his brain off. 

Janus hadn’t even noticed he was tapping his hands on the arms of the chair until he peaked an eye open to see his boyfriend’s excited expression, not unlike a child on Christmas morning. 

 A bit after they’d started officially dating, Remus had accidentally discovered Janus’ once-least-favorite neurodiverse trait in himself; happy stimming. It was overly vulnerable and had gotten him teased too often when he was younger, so he had made a habit of masking the excited movement. It had only taken one date to the animal rehabilitation centre, and an hour long detour in the reptile area, for that barrier to break. But Remus had taken him for the sole reason of showing Janus the snakes, what was he supposed to do?

The first time he’d been totally natural around Remus (due to finding a green tree python, because oh my god Remus look at it!), bouncing and tucking his cheek to his shoulder and flapping his hands, his boyfriend had solemnly taken his hands, leaned far too close, and uttered something along the lines of ‘What the fuck was that and how do I make you do it again?’ Apparently he thought it was cute.

Preposterous. 

And judging by the slow rising in the song’s pitch, that was exactly what Remus was attempting to trigger. Janus could feel a smile forming against his will as the music crescendoed, and with it came a floating sensation. It felt like fire shooting up his spine, or pop rocks in his skull, an addictive rush of joy that filled his body with adrenaline, the best possible butterflies in his stomach. His hands flapped in an effort to release the energy and for now he let them, the grin now making his cheeks hurt.

All at once the beat settled back to it’s verse tempo and Janus pulled the headphones off somewhat sheepishly. 

“Hell. Yes.” Remus whispered, a matching wide smile stretching across his face. He cradled Janus’ face between his palms, as if he were something fragile, and edged forward until their noses booped, “You’re so. Goddamn. Cute.”

“Am not,” Janus forced out between his squished cheeks. It would have been much more convincing if he weren’t fighting off more happy wiggles. 

Remus snorted and pressed a peck to Janus’ lip before whirling on his heels, more or less skipping to the common area.

“Logan, I did it!” He sang grandly. He twirled around the living room with a whoop, startling a laugh out of Janus. Virgil and Roman, who must have been situated on the couch, yelled as Remus splayed across them just out of Janus’ line of vision. 

“Get off us, you oaf-”

“Jesus, Remus!”

“Oh Logaaaaan!” 

Janus leaned against the doorway of their room to watch the scene unfold. Remus finally gave in to the pushing from their roommates and rolled onto the floor with a brilliant thud and a cackle. 

“Get him off my foot!”

“He’s your brother.”

Remus snickered and promptly attached himself to Roman’s leg like a koala, digging his teeth into his shin.

“REMUS!” 

“Yeth?” He asked around his mouthful. Roman freed the leg not being eaten and, with no preamble, delivered a solid kick to his brother’s side. 

“I’ve been shot!” Remus wailed dramatically, rolling onto his back.

“I’m going to need a rabies shot!”

“I see the light-”

“Am I bleeding? Virgil, get the first aid kit!”

“Alas, the world goes dim! What an end, what an end…”

“What if they have to amputate?”

Janus’ hand could no longer muffle his laughter, and his laughing distracted Remus enough to get a dazzling smile from where he was laying half under the coffee table. The diversion seemed to remind him of why he’d come into the living room in the first place.

His face fell into a pout and he shrieked, “LOGAN!”

The door to Logan and Patton’s room flew open and the latter poked his head out with a violent shush. 

“Logan is on the phone!” 

True to his word, Logan was pacing their room behind him, stimming anxiously while he spoke into his phone in a completely neutral voice.

Virgil sat up straighter, earning a concerned look from Roman, who gave up on nursing the bite mark on his sweatpants. However, Remus was oblivious to the sudden tenseness in the air, kicking his feet onto the coffee table.

“Who is he on the phone with?” Virgil asked, slowly getting up from the couch.

Patton shut the door after a quick glance into the room. The rest of the dorm stayed silent until he’d clicked the latch into place, as if all holding their breath. Logan’s voice became just a murmur behind the wall as Patton met Virgil’s eyes nervously.

“It’s his parents,”

“WHY-” Patton shushed Virgil wildly, hands waving up a flurry. The man continued in a hushed tone but with just as much fury, “Why is he talking to his parents?”

Roman jumped up, probably to try and ease an almost-spitting Virgil but only succeeding in stepping on Remus.

“Ow!”

“Then why are you on the floor!?”

Virgil took a step toward Patton. “He hasn’t talked to them in a year-”

“I will eat your whole leg off!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

“Oh? OH!? When you wake up tomorrow with no legs, you’ll regret that!”

“Remus, just get up!”

He froze from where he’d been pushing himself up from the floor, gingerly lowering himself back down and crossing his arms. “Well, now I’m not going to.”

“Why don’t…” Janus faltered as every eye in the room settled on him, fighting his instinct to shut his mouth. They want to hear you, they want to hear you- “Why don’t we like Logan’s parents?”

Virgil and Patton answered at the same time.

“They’re assholes.”

“They’re not great p- language!”

If Janus remembered correctly, Virgil and Logan had known each other far longer than any of the others, though it wasn’t hard to surmise from Virgil’s reactions. He’d never seen him get so worked up. 

“They’re ableist, homophobic pieces of sh-”

“But!” Patton interrupted, “We probably shouldn’t say more without Logan here.”

Virgil grumbled under his breath and dropped back onto the sofa, followed by Roman, who placed an arm around his shoulders. It did nothing to placate his anger, but he did lean marginally into his boyfriend’s side.

“We don’t like them,” Remus said in a falsely bright tone as he squirmed out from where he’d been trapped. “How long does he have to talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledick?”

“Language…”

“What do they want from him?” Virgil demanded. Was it Janus’ imagination, or were his eyes shinier than they’d been a minute before?

“I don’t…” Patton glanced at the closed door, “I’m sure Logan can tell you later. I’ll tell you as soon as he’s ready to talk, okay?”

They were given one more reminder to hush, and then Patton disappeared back into their room. The group fell into silence as soon as he was gone.

Remus broke the lull with a loud knuckle crack and a, “So, American Horror Story, anyone?” 

No one complained, which Remus took as affirmation. Virgil had turned to burrow his face into Roman’s shoulder, which smartly, no one addressed. The opening credits flashed across the scene as Remus scrambled onto the loveseat, patting the spot next to him.

“Snakey, sit.”

Janus shook his hands briefly to dispel his nerves before taking the spot next to his boyfriend, leaning into his side. Every bit of contact that he initiated excited Remus to no end. He swung his arm over Janus’ shoulders and pulled him even closer and then, to Janus’ revolt, began to run his thumb lightly over his hand. 

“Yuck, no, no no no, stop,” Janus squirmed, stilling Remus’ thumb with his other hand, and nestling even further into him. 

“Oh, right. Forgot.”

“No harm done.”

They’d barely gotten through an episode of the show when the door opened behind them. Roman wasted no time shutting the TV off, and the four of them watched with rapt attention as Patton and a slightly disheveled Logan emerged. 

“I hear there was some commotion over the content of my phone call.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Virgil snapped. 

“Your concern is noted but unnecessary,” Logan replied curtly, “My parents called because I was not answering their messages.”

“They’ve been messaging you?!” Virgil hissed, pulling away from Roman’s hold to stand. 

“Do they ever stop?” Logan rolled his eyes and finally released his death grip on his cell phone. He slid it into his back pocket instead. “For some reason they insist I come back home this summer.”

Him and Patton did that bizarre communicate-silently thing they did often, as Logan lifted his arm and his boyfriend attached to his side immediately. Perhaps one day, him and Remus would have that level of intuitiveness that puzzled him so. The thought made his face grow hot. A glance at Remus confirmed he hadn’t noticed, though. 

“You haven’t gone back since first year. Why now?” Roman asked. His twin hummed in agreement.

Logan turned his gaze to the floor, taking a while to answer. “I don’t understand their timing. But they are threatening to withdraw financial assistance towards my schooling if I refuse.”

The room exploded into chaos. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“That’s not fair, after all they’ve done to you-”

“Would anyone notice if they went missing?”

“Remus-”

“You can’t go back there, Lo…”

“I wasn’t planning to! But now I may not have a choice, Patton.” 

“When do you have to decide?” Roman asked, earning a glare from Virgil.

“It’s not a choice, he can’t go!”

“This is my choice, not yours, Virgil! Either way, the due date is in a week. I’ll have made my decision by then.”

Janus stiffened as the air was pulled from his lungs. “Wait, what due date?”

No one seemed to notice his question, however, as the volume in the room raised another octave. His words were lost to the level of shouting, completely invisible to everyone. He tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did. 

As easy as it would have been to just fade into the background, as per usual, the unanswered question was burrowing a hole in his chest. Janus tugged on Remus’ sleeve.

“What due date?”

Finally, Remus turned sharp eyes from the conversation to him. The slightly manic glint to them softened as soon as he saw Janus’ panicked expression, and he shifted their hands so their fingers locked. 

“S’when we gotta let the school know if you’re staying on campus for summer break. Didn’t you get the email?”

“What email?!” Janus hissed just as the arguing reached its peak. Logan had pulled himself away from (a decently distraught) Patton and was gripping his own arms with white knuckles. 

“Why do you even care?! I’m fine!” He said through grit teeth.

“You’re clearly not,” Roman retorted. Virgil had pulled up his phone and was scrolling through it with purpose, clearly trying to find something. 

“I’ll figure it out! This doesn’t have to be an event for everyone!”

“That doesn’t mean you’re-”

“Will you just drop it, Roman?!” Logan yelled, voice cracking.

Janus nearly bumped into Remus with the way he flinched. The other’s arm immediately tightened around him, a grounding pressure across his shoulders. 

“I think we’re all tired,” Patton broke the tense air with a pleading tone, “Can we come back to this tomorrow? Please?”

Logan was gone without another word, followed by Patton after a round of strained good-nights. 

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

As clingy a couple as they were, sleeping was a different matter. One time, one time only, they’d tried to cram onto one of their puny twin beds and that had lasted a whole half hour before they decided to never try it again. Janus needed his space if he even wanted a chance at a peaceful sleep, and Remus had the lovely habit of embodying a starfish with a caffeine problem, even when unconscious. How he fit on the tiny dorm beds by himself astounded Janus, what with how he splayed. Janus had gotten two full hits to the face before he’d leaned against the wall and pushed Remus to the floor with his feet. The man hadn’t stirred. 

The next morning Remus had suggested (without thinking) that one day they’d just get a bigger bed, and Janus had turned a bright crimson at the easy way he had discussed their future together. 

Either way, for now, they stayed in their respective beds, but at that moment, Janus was missing the distinctive feeling of being Remus’ teddy bear. His mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, or perhaps a tornado. It was a flurry any which way, one that kept his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he couldn’t even see in the dark. Across the small room, he could hear Remus shifting, his breath catching every time he moved, meaning he was probably still awake as well. 

“Remus?”

“Yeah, snakey?” 

Guess he was right, then. Janus rolled towards him, even though he couldn’t make out anything in the pitch black. 

“I can’t sleep.”

There was a chuckle from across the room. “Have you even tried?” It was a valid question; it hadn’t been more than five minutes since they’d turned off the lights.

“I mean, I won’t be able to sleep.” Janus sighed. He gnawed at his fingernails as louder shuffling came from Remus’ bed.

“Why not?”

There were a few things, if he was honest. 

“Does Virgil get mad like that a lot?” Not what he’d meant to lead with, but oh well. 

“Oh,” Remus replied lightly, “He wasn’t mad. He probably sounded real pissed though. He was just worried about Logan. They grew up together and all that shit, so Virgil got like a front row seat of all the shit they did to him. Taping his hands to tables so he didn’t flap ‘em, all that.”

Janus was speechless. 

“Is that all that’s buggin’ ya?”

“Not really.” 

“Spill the tea.”

In a familiar moment of self consciousness, Janus curled his knees into his chest. He wants to hear you, he wants to hear you. The blankets pooled around his waist as he sat up, hoping the position would somehow grant him more courage.

“I started thinking about… what Logan said, and now I don’t know if I want to go home or stay on campus over summer. I didn’t know that was even an option. But it would be so much easier to not have to pack up again, and I’m just getting used to it here, but what if my parents are mad, like Logan’s?”

The fairy lights that encircled their room flickered to life, revealing Remus had stretched to reach the switch from his bed. 

“I didn’t get the email and now I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to stay on campus, what if I missed a due date? It’s my fault, I should have checked every folder and now I don’t know what to do, I…” Janus’ sentence bled into a hum from the back of his throat. The swirling flotsam of thoughts thickened, a swarm of bees being swallowed by their own honey; worries still existing, but now infinitely harder to reach and express. 

“I don’t know what to do- I… I don’t, I can’t think, my brain’s too busy-” He wrapped his fists in his blanket to keep from gripping his hair. All of the sudden, he was a coiled spring and there was nothing he could do to loosen the pressure. He needed a release, he needed to move and to be held still, his chest full of helium but his arms filled with a colony of ants under his skin, every molecule separating and floating away. Janus shoved his fists into the blankets, pushing and pushing and begging for the awful pressure to disappear. 

“Hey hey hey, take a breath, snakey. I’m right here.”

The bed dipped under Remus’ weight and his first reaction was to reach out but no, no the ants were still there, in his hands, and he bent them backwards at the wrist to kill the itch. Curl curl curl, and his fists were jammed against his jaw, pressure push stop stop-

“I’m trying, I am, I just-” He cut himself off with a sob that was more of a cough, drawing in a wheezing breath. Remus must be freaking out, he could tell, and god he wanted to stop but the cycle continued, cough and breathe in and try to squish the fucking ants.

“Do you want me to get Logan? Or Patton?”

No, no, no. Janus shook his head vigorously and pushed his fists under his legs, leaning forward to force his whole weight on the limbs. Yeah, yeah that felt better, more weight, he needed more-

“Pressure,” Janus gasped, interrupting whatever Remus had been saying but finding he couldn’t care less. He removed one hand from the safety he’d found and hit the heel of it to his chest. “I need- I need pressure, weight, I can’t-” Cough. Hum.

“Weighted blanket? Is that it?” The worry in Remus’ voice was so clear it was almost embarrassing, but Janus would never admit how much he adored it; it was a level of softness no one else was privy to. 

“No-” The weighted blanket would have been his go to before, when he was alone, but it was never enough. 

Deep pressure therapy, he remembered Logan calling it. A way to regulate the nervous system when it was going nuts, something about resetting the ‘fight or flight’ reflex. He couldn’t remember the details. But he could remember Logan’s explaining different forms of it.  

“Hug?” Janus pleaded, rocking forward onto his hands once more.

“I- What…- Are you sure?”

Janus let out a broken sound. He nodded quickly, freeing a hand to circle it over his chest, palm flat, over and over. Please. Logically, he knew there was no time pressure, but there was an undeniable feeling of ‘hurry, hurry, hurry’ rushing through him. Fight or flight, maybe.

Remus opened his arms and Janus was scrambling across the gap immediately, curling sideways on his lap. The only thing he could compare it to was dumping sand on a fire as Remus’ arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer to his chest and pressing his nose into Janus’ hair. Remus swayed them back and forth like he was reading Janus’ damn mind, and he finally took a deep breath. All the stress trickled from his tense muscles bit by bit, and the younger could have cried from relief. 

Janus was quickly finding it hard to keep his eyes open as Remus kept rocking them, listening to his heartbeat and following his breathing in the rare quiet of their dorm that had come to feel like home. 

“Feeling better?” Remus whispered.

Janus tensed immediately. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

And he didn’t.

Taglist:

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