#my brain is a puddle right now but i've been thinking about the last part since morning

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT - 24 Months

Well, these past couple months have been hell, with a light at the end of the tunnel that I’ve now reached, but still. Anyway, on with the show…

So, before I get into the really gritty stuff, my jaw and teeth were converted pretty early on, as well as my ear bones. The former were a little funky, but honestly nothing really changed there, since I already don’t need to chew things, losing my teeth was no big deal, and for the latter, there was a small blip in my hearing - for a few minutes - but then it came back, honestly better than before. I wasn’t super worried about the hearing loss, particularly after eyes taste and smell, only how long I'd be deaf for, but fortunately, as I said, it really wasn't a problem. I’m pretty sure that my slime has just replaced my inner ear’s function innately, and since hearing is just interpreted vibrations, and slime is pretty good at vibrating. What was and has been nice is the cat ears I made a few months back can now actually function, which took a little getting used to, but my hearing is super good now, if a little overwhelming at times.

Right, on to the less pleasant parts: Remember how in the last update I said that apparently you know when your brain goes, yeah, that’s true, and it’s ‘cause it’s genuinely the most painful, disorienting, and scary thing I have ever experienced. First of all, unlike a lot of other changes, it kinda just goes all at once - I think it’s a survival thing, the brain/core wouldn’t function while being half transformed, and it’d probably kill you if they tried to. Only issue is that this means that your brain basically dissolves over the course of a few hours, which is excruciating, and the weeks leading up to that absolutely suck as well.

The first thing I noticed was the pain - headaches, some of the worst I’ve ever had (which I know I’ve said a lot over the course of this, but I was fortunate before to have very little issues, and turns out transforming your whole body hurts). I tried to take some painkillers to help, but they don’t seem to work any more - not sure if it’s ‘cause my biology is so different now, or ‘cause my body breaks them down too well, but either way they don’t work, so I had to suffer through the pain.

Either on top of or because of the pain, I've had a general sense of disorientation. It started off as just sometimes getting a little turned around in games and the like, but it progressed to getting lost if I tried to go anywhere (which was compounded by some other stuff too). Frankly it's a good thing in the final days before my brain changed that I hurt too much to go anywhere, else I probably would have ended up somewhere entirely unknown at a really vulnerable stage in my transformation.

I also have had some memory issues while things have worked things out. My memory has never been amazing in the first place, but I started to get very forgetful, forgetting appointments, plans, even eating (I'd usually ‘remember’ when I started idly eating random things I had around, which has meant I've lost a few things, but I don't remember what so I'm keep finding things I need to replace). I’m also pretty sure I lost some older memories too, but it’s really hard to tell if that’s from normal forgetting or forgetting ‘cause my brain was becoming mush, it’s kinda scary not knowing. This is also part of what compounded my disorientation - when telling left from right is getting hard, forgetting where you're even meant to go or have come from only makes things worse. Also, try reforming yourself from a puddle when you barely remember what you were before… definitely had some interesting shapes recently. Honestly, it was terrifying, I actually didn't know if I'd ever be able to remember things again (obviously I can, but I didn't know that at the time, and my memory of that period are sketchy at best)

Of course, the pain I mentioned earlier made it hard to focus on things, but even beyond that my ability to focus seemed to vanish. I have been so easily distracted over the past couple of months. Genuinely a glint of light or something could completely draw my attention from whatever I was doing, and then I'd usually completely forget what I was doing, get distracted by something else and wonder off. I apparently walked off in the middle of so many games and videos and just any activity I was doing. Frankly it's a miracle that I have any notes, or remember enough to actually write this entry, I kinda spent most of this last month piecing together what I do remember and have notes of (the notes are not the most legible, worse than my normal handwriting which is awful anyways (there's a reason I type these updates)). 

On top of all this, I also had nightmares and hallucinations. The former sucked, but honestly asides from waking up in some weird shapes in attempts to either fight or defend myself from whatever was jumping me in the nightmare (assuming it was a monster one) they were over once I woke up. The hallucinations were worse, since they could appear at any time, and oh boy do they seem real. Sometimes they were small things, noises, or a shape in my periphery. Other times they were blurry, intimidating figures in the distance. And of course with my inability to focus on things, these hallucinations would only be another thing to distract my addled brain. The worst though, was waking up from a nightmare, a puddle unable to reform, and the nightmare continuing as a hallucination in the real world. That'd usually shake me up for a day - and annoyingly my memory issues didn't really seem to extend to them. I'm still working out what was real and fake from that time, and it has not been easy, or fun. My ‘brain’ feels like goddamn soup whenever I think about that time. 

On top of everything else, sometimes I'd faint. Sometimes due to pain, other times (particularly towards the end of the transformation) I'd just keel over, only to wake up in a puddle of myself. It was really disconcerting and scary… kinda felt like my brain was just cutting out, and I was a little scared it might not cut back in at some point… and of course that’s one of the things I remember clearly, the fear and worry of that - very clear that the ‘remember bad shit’ survival instinct was and still is functioning, as annoying as that is.

Since I don't particularly want to linger on those thoughts more than I already have, an interesting thing to note is that even through all of this, my actual mental faculties didn't diminish - while I was forgetful and distracted, if I managed to make myself, I found myself just as capable as before. I partially did this to help assure myself I wasn't losing myself, but also because, let's be honest, slimes aren't known for being the brightest bunch, and I've been a little worried this whole time that I'd get dumber or something. The pamphlet I was given didn't really say anything about this happening, but I know from trans hrt that the information your given doesn't always include every possible effect (I know it certainly failed to mention the attention issues during the most recent stage, and the blindness from before) 

But, despite last month being basically the worst month of my life, I have survived, albeit a little scrambled, and I'm slowly putting everything back together. And of course, now, there's nothing human left in me! I'm all slime!!! (It makes me so unbelievably happy to be able to say that now).

Interestingly, unlike everything else, my brain hasn't fully gone, instead I ended up with what I quickly realised is a slime core! For those unfamiliar, slimes can have a core, which is essentially like their brain/major organ inside them, usually looking like a small coloured sphere. While slimes are usually pretty hard to damage permanently, damage done to a slimes core can be very debilitating, like heart, brain, or lung damage for humans and stuff. 

I actually think I had a kind of proto-core before hand, but didn't notice it, and I think it came around about when my digestive system was changed, since I think my core manages matter-to-slime conversion (I'm guessing this ‘cause that's improved since my core has now fully formed). I guess I didn’t spy it before ‘cause it was too small or something?

On that note, my core is/looks like, interestingly, a kind of verdant green gem. It mostly just seems to float inside of my goo, although I can move it around my body wherever I like, but I tend to keep it either right in the middle of my torso, or in the middle of my chest (at least in human form). Both areas have a decent amount of goo protecting my core, and it looks neat to have it there. 

It does actually look really pretty, especially when taken outside of my body (don't worry, it can be taken out of my body, so long as it remains in contact with my goo I'm completely fine), and yeah, just kinda looks like a funky green stone/gem. I am curious as to why it's green, and I'm kinda hoping it's gonna boost the efficiency of my photosynthesis, and that it's green ‘cause of chlorophyll, but I don't honestly know yet, need some nice sunny days to properly test it out. 

I did find out that if my core does become separated from my goo, I can just reform another body from stored goo around the core, leaving the old body to fall (but I can just reabsorb it afterwards to maintain mass). Oh, and before anyone worries that I was being reckless, I made sure to check that I wouldn't die before I tested anything.

On the note of stored goo, it seems like excess goo/matter is stored in the core, like fat in humans. I'm not sure what or if there's a limit or what happens if I try to eat too much, but as far as I've gotten for now, it seems to be fine. I have noticed that I actually seem lighter now, I still seem to weigh about as much as I look like I should (maybe slightly over) and as such it changes if I make myself grow bigger, but not really if I eat things. I'm not entirely sure quite what's going on there, as that seems like some physics defying shit, but it's actually super useful, means I can store as much mass as I'd like and not break the sofa when I sit down. 

So asides from all of those experiences and changes, I've found a couple other things that have sprung up from these changes. Firstly, I've found that my body feels much more coherent, I'm very much now one gelatinous entity, rather than bits of one and bits of another. Movement feels much more fluid now, especially outside of a humanoid form (not that I've gotten worse at being humanoid, just better at everything else) and I honestly find myself kind of hot swapping between slime ball and slime girl as I need/feel like it. Also navigating crowds is super easy now, just kinda slipping and moving between any gaps (I could kinda do this before, but again, now it feels so second nature). On top of this, my multitasking seems to have improved. I still can’t say one thing while writing another, but I've gotten better at physical multitasking; I struggle less coordinating my ��hands’ when I try playing the piano for example (I still can't play it, but I've got more of the coordination for it). Add in that I can very easily have several limbs/pseudopods/whatever you want to call them at once (which is honestly why I think my multitasking has improved, it's to facilitate control of the numerous structures I can now produce) and it’s become very easy to manage multiple, physical, tasks at once. 

One thing I have noticed myself doing, almost subconsciously (and honestly, this might've started a little before now, but I'll talk about it here, since I've really noticed it now), I'll just adjust my body however I need in the moment. Now, this may sound kind of obvious, but it's a little funky (but mostly neat) to just suddenly grow an extra limb, or pseudopod to hold or grab something quickly, or to just adjust my mass to better balance or manage something. Again, very neat, but a little funky to realise when I didn't consciously think about it. 

Relatedly, shaping has become easier, not sure if that's due to practise, or having a more compatible neurological centre, but I seem to be able to shape myself quicker, and I seem to have gained a better memory for shape too, the latter is definitely due to recent changes, or at least, definitely due to the treatment.

I've  also still been working on my acid control, which feels like it's gotten easier, but again I can't say whether that's from practice or the recent changes, but I can at least somewhat reliably keep an area of my body acid free now for a bit.

Unrelated to the treatment, but I'm actually much shorter now, at least in my humanoid form, clocking in at around 4’4”(slime ball form has remained the same size, at around 30cm tall). I always liked the idea of being really small, and I can now, and it's not like it really offers any disadvantages, since I can just reach tendrils up to grab things from high up (with eyes/vision so I can see what I'm doing), plus it means I have more spare slime to spend on other, more fun things than just being tall. This all being said, the idea of using all my slime to become really big also has its appeals, but it's less practical for day to day life. 

To touch on one final thing, I definitely don't feel human anymore. I'm a slime, through and through, humanity is just a memory. I've mentioned before feeling more and more detached from humanity (if I ever felt truly attached) as this process has gone on, but now that I'm seemingly done, I don't feel human at all. Interestingly, I find this aspect has been remarkably similar to gender transition, with the feeling of being a guy slowly fading away until it seemed alien to think of myself as one, which kinda feels like where I'm at at the moment. I'll likely catch myself still including myself in humanity from time to time for a while, but I can safely say I'm a slime, and I am so happy I can now. So that’s what my life has been for the last couple of months, and while parts sucked - like, really sucked - the end result is so unbelievably worth it. While this feels like the end of slime hrt, I do have an appointment planned with the doc to talk about my next step and hopefully get myself onto shapeshifter hrt, so my next update will probably be about that. See y’all then!

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Tag list below cut (lmk if you want to be added)

@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog

@mint-and-authoress, @losttodreams, @redroversendjayover, @ariathelamia, @kanithedemoncat

[steviewashere]

My Scars are Hiding (My Branches Don't Show)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Suicidal Thoughts, Depression From a Young Age, Depression Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Depressed Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington's Mother is a Sweetheart, Steve's Mom is Depressed, Eddie Munson Has Depression (Implied/Referenced), Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Cuddling & Snuggling, They Love Each Other, Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington This isn't great, fuck it isn't even good—just not how I usually write. But also, I've been feeling like muddled dog shit and this is the only way I can think to just get it out. So, yeah. It's probably not even all that complete, but it's something. Title is from "Take Me Down Easy" by James Henry Jr.

🫂—————🫂 Still laying in bed. Making marks in the ceiling. Wasting time.

There’s quiet. A gentle rush of wind against his bedroom window. Distant ticks of a grandfather clock he keeps forgetting to dust, a dog barking at something down the driveway, some rustles he can’t quite place. Low hums from the refrigerator. Just easy noise, easier than he’s used to.

His chest weighs. Concave between his pecs, digging in as if something has set itself where it doesn’t belong. Heavy. Too heavy. He takes a breath, but fizzles out with it—nostrils wheezing and mouth dry and his chest just…aching.

When he was little, he’d have days like this. Eight years old and laying down, lost in his bedsheets, eyes melting into his cheekbones, and his stomach hungry for anything. Sometimes, his mom would come in and brush the hair off his forehead, ask him sweet things—“Do you want Mommy to make you a grilled cheese? How about I take you out for some ice cream, huh?”—and those little moments were strange. He’d stare up at her from deep within his own pillowcase. There’d be something in her eyes. Something he couldn’t place then, but thinking of it now, it’s clear she was recognizing a sour part of herself; this sour part of herself now inherited in her only child. She was trying and that was something in its own right.

She hasn’t been home in a while. Off on another trip with his dad, the untrustworthy bastard. Trying to mend her marriage, calm her brain, keep her wit. They talk on the phone; hours long conversations—racking up that bill—passing love you like cold mashed potatoes. Still edible, still digestible, still nourishing even in the blandest way.

The last in-person conversation they had was about shit like this. This day, this feeling. They were sitting across from each other in the living room—him in the recliner, her on the middle cushion of the sofa. Glasses of iced tea on coasters. Television on just to make background noise. She asked him how he was doing. And for once, he didn’t lie. Looked at her. Desperate and honest and aching. He admitted it, this feeling.

And admitted, too, “I’ve been thinking of…what if I…Mom, what if I want to die?”

Silence stretched, much like it does now. The grandfather clock ticking and the gentle rush of wind and the dog and the refrigerator. And then she cried. Scooted closer, opened her arms, held him, and cried. “We’ll fix it. Let’s fix this. Okay, honey? Can’t lose you, you’re my baby.”

He wants her to fix it. Fix this pulsing, aching mass inside his chest—so thick and viscous and bloody. Heavy inside him, working its way through his throat, ready to burble out of his mouth.

Steve takes a breath, quietly gasps with it, but doesn’t move from the mattress.

He was supposed to be up a few minutes ago, already dressed, out the door. Going to Eddie’s home to pick him up. A date.

And yet. Jesus, here he is.

Here he is, melding into his mattress, mouth burbling and chest heaving. What if I want to die?

Time must pass, as it does when he’s like this, and within the distant quiet noises, his bedroom pushes open with subtle squeaks. He peers over and immediately cringes, guilt pooling under that pulsing mass—a blood puddle underneath this rawness. “Eddie,” he murmurs, voice crackling awful like a house on fire, “what’re you doin’ here?”

Eddie stands in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed deep on his face, arms at his sides, fidgeting with the chain on his wallet. “You didn’t…thought we had a date?”

He nods into his pillow. “I know,” Steve whispers, “was about to get up and get ready, promise.”

“You sure?”

Steve swallows rocks. Am I? He blinks and breathes and gasps—quiet still, but treacherous. “Yeah…yeah, Eds. Promise, okay? Just…just need a couple minutes.” His body is still stiff and his whole self aches something fierce, deep in his bones, under the fibers of his muscle. Fuck, can I—

“Did you sleep okay, Steve? You look…you look tired, sweetheart.”

A chuckle escapes him, humorless and awful. “Guess you could say that. Think I just need a few minutes and then I’ll get up.” He blinks at the doorway, Eddie’s timid figure. “You can come in, baby. I promise we’ll go.”

Bed-bound and waxy, Steve remains. This fixture in his bedroom, the way he will be, the place he’ll exist. And in this slimy bubble of self-loathing, of sacrilegious hatred, of suicidal despondency—Eddie encroaches. He settles himself on the edge of Steve’s mattress, barely close, hardly moving. But the bed dips and so he looks on.

Eddie’s face set with…concern and half-recognition. Something balmy in his eyes and his fingers ever tender as they reach across the comforter to trace the parts of Steve’s face that exist as nothing—no emotion, no explanation, just exhaustion. Some grief. He’s breathing slow and steady, easy in comparison to those gasping convulsions Steve keeps doing; a reminder of sorts to keep on because he forgets to do, to be.

He swallows as Eddie’s touch gets heavier. Mouth humid, grotesquely fuzzy, and gamey. The way it is when he hasn’t brushed his teeth in a few days, which is the case—the unfortunate case if they want to get any closer. His scalp tight and heavy from the weight of his unwashed, stringy hair. Malaise jagged in his stomach. There’s a film to him and despite it, Eddie still soothes him with the tips of his fingers.

And soon his palm, as it cups the left side of his face. Thumb running diagonal, then horizontal, then diagonal again in slow smears; as if attempting to work away the imperfections from a clay sculpture.

“Steve?”

He tries a hum, but it’s more of a croak.

“How are you feeling today? Be honest, baby.”

More rocks down his raw esophagus. “Dunno what words to use,” he says, “kinda like I’m not…” His eyes dart over Eddie’s soft, freckled, patient face. Dipping into the dark depths of his irises. Part of his mom is starting right back. “I’m not much of a person, Eds,” he finally murmurs—the words acidic and vile and staining black on his tongue, these horrid things to string together, and yet they come out calm as ever. Nonchalant as they’ve been for more than a decade, even when the words didn’t exist yet, and even when he was tired of defining them.

“Like you’re incomplete?” Eddie asks quietly.

Those careful words, spread across the mattress, cozied against Steve’s muddled brain. Ones that make sense in such a vastness of nonsense.

“Yeah,” he whispers and nods, “kinda like that.”

Eddie drags his palm away, smoothing it over Steve’s chest in the process—over his heart and his saturated lungs. Looking on at the wall across from him, eyes bouncing over the pattern, finding something. Then, when he grasps it, he stares back at Steve. With softness. With care. “These are always the worst days,” Eddie says, “they always just make me not wanna move. Not wanna care. Like, one time, I stayed in bed for a whole week! Wayne thought I was sick—which I guess I was—dude kept bringing me bowls of Campbell’s. The soup didn’t make me entirely better, but it was nice that he was trying.”

Steve settles his head deeper into the pillow, not quite moving closer, but something like. “You…you know what this is like?” Wordlessly, Eddie just nods at him. Still calculating Steve, though, carefully checking invisible boundaries. He sighs like an elderly dog. Quietly, “I’m glad you have Wayne.”

A wistful little smile. Dimples just making themselves known. “He’s great,” Eddie murmurs, “but I also know what it’s like to be alone through this. And…and, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try and keep you company, that okay?”

“But what about our date?”

“We can have our date here, no biggie. I’ll order in some pizza and we can hang out. If you aren’t able to bring your all, then I can bring my all to you. Figure out what works, get you feeling a bit better.”

In the face of Eddie’s optimism, it’s hard to say no.

It’s also hard to get the rest of him to spew. All the other swirling thoughts, ones he admitted to his mom, they won’t bubble like the rest of him. And maybe Eddie knows them, too. Maybe he understands that desire, those abyssal thoughts that seem to just swallow rather than swarm. Dragging him deeper into the cave of this murk that is him today—and yesterday, and the days before that one, too.

It’s hard to be a person. To just be anything. But if Eddie’s willing to just stay here, then—

“Are you okay with just sleeping, Eds?”

“Baby boy, I am the master of cuddling. You wanna sleep, then we sleep. If you wanted to go fucking ice skating right now, I’d take you. Seriously, sweetheart, I go with who you are and what you can do.” Blearily, Steve registers Eddie worming the sneakers off his feet—unlaced and so Eddie it makes him ache with something softer, sweeter, almost a cavity. Eddie grunts with the last tug of one of his sneakers. “So,” he breathes, “sleep? Big or little spoon?”

And he watches with a low lick of fondness in his chest as Eddie carefully slides himself onto the bed, right up next to Steve. Earnestly shining—glowing—at Steve like the sun shines out his ass, even like this. It’s not enough to mend him. Satiate the thoughts and the fog and the slime and the pulsing raw sphere inside him, but it’s certainly soothing him. Enough that he scoots over a little more, making more space between them.

Just so he can turn over on is side, his pale face and slick hair and sickly everything pointed at Eddie. “Little spoon, please,” he murmurs. Without much else to say—not that there are words to give, nothing to really say in the face of all of him today—Eddie is bringing him in. Encompassing him in his warmth, arms tight to his torso, snuggling his head into the rise and fall of his slimmer chest. His nose buried between scars and half-tattoos. Welcomed into Irish Spring soap and cheap cologne. Musk and sweetness. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have our real date, Eds,” he whispers into the hollow of his throat.

“Nonsense,” Eddie says back at the same volume, “this is real enough for me, sweetheart. Just you—no matter how much of you—right next to me is enough.”

“Okay,” he mutters, cozying in closer.

The wind gently rustles against the window and the grandfather clock ticks, a distant dog and other misplaced noises. And then, unexpectedly, the light smack of lips against his forehead—sticky and warm and pressing. “Okay,” Eddie whispers, “okay, baby boy.” Hands still on his back, firm in their hold, legs entangled with his, lips stuck to his temple.

Breaths, mingling air that settles—steady and warm and regular.

He sleeps.

🫂—————🫂

[agirlandherquill]

through the puddles of ink

since it's a new academic year, a new chapter of my life and i thought, since i've been on tumblr for around eight months now that it's about time i properly introduced myself - this would shock the person i was when i first started this blog, but as it's grown so have i, and i think university has indefinitely helped my confidence - so, without further ado, here goes i'll start this properly by explaining the title of this post - through the puddle of ink

ink is important because obviously it is the basis of literature, the foundation of stories and fitting to my blog name, you dip the quill in the ink to write, to forge an adventure that tests the imagination and takes a reader to wonderful places and puddles because let's face it, ink is messy, ink is chaotic, just like me, my characters, and my writing and because through the looking glass is a very iconic title i also watched that movie in the cinema years ago, i took inspiration, and here we are now - this post is a reflection of me, the beautiful nightmares and writing gremlins that co-exist within my brain and a way for me to get to better know my mutuals, anyone and everybody on writeblr!

here comes the scary part - only for me, and my semi-awkward self - introducing myself, i've never been very good at this stuff so bear with me - and have mercy on my nervous soul,

for the longest time i've loved the sort of self-imposed anonymity of this blog, and don't get me wrong i still do adore my blog name but I thought it was about time I properly introduced myself, so, let me just shuffle some papers in the library of my mind, find the right phrasing for this and... (cue angry hitting of the keyboard) hello! my name is Erin and i'm a writer, a lover of chaos, and a semi-functioning tempest somehow existing within society - i love and ramble about lots of different things - books, shows, songs, you name it, i can waffle and sometimes i can waffle well (that is how i am now going to describe my writing, because it feels like it fits so well)

phew, i got that out, that tiny paragraph was a lot of effort (and i've beaten writers block more often than i can count)

this little post might not seem like much, but to me it's a lot, and i'm happy to have made it this far, and i'm so looking forward to continuing to grow alongside this blog and writeblr (i love you all, no seriously)

and now onto some very much needed rambling about my works, because there's a lot the lovely folk of writeblr are yet to know (and it will come, in time, but here's what i can say for now)

Ruin's Reprisal - we all know the tale of this, my oldest, most functioning (cough, using that term loosely) work - well, where to start? well, i'm on the final stage of proofreading, and once that's all done i'm hoping (let's be honest, dreaming,) to have the final draft complete and out in the great wide world come christmas/new year (that is a courageous goal, even for me, but who knows, maybe i can pull it off, just maybe)

A Deal Of Daggers - it's almost time for nanowrimo, which marks two years since the idea for this first came to me, and i cannot wait to spend autumn working on it (not that i am participating in nano properly this year, what with student-life obligations, but i'm going to write what i can) and i've been steadily chipping away with a few chapters already

those are my two main works, and probably the only works i've been focusing on over the last couple of months - and i've fallen completely and wholeheartedly in love with them all over again, as i do, every single time i open the files on scrivener

as far as my tired but over-eager to write brain can think this should be it for everything i wanted to include in this post until the next post (which won't be long, i can guarantee it),

~ Erin, A Girl and Her Quill, or whatever this hellscape would like to call me :)

~ ~ ~

now for the tag list! (i forgot to add it when i posted, oops!)

(p.s if you'd like to be included/notified too, interact with this post :))

@humbly-a-doppelganger @imawholeassmood @frostedlemonwriter @yrndrgn @abditorywriting

@riveriafalll @lead-to-code @casualsuitturtle @floweryprosegarden @joeys-piano

@catwingsathena @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings @anaisbebe

@drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @tiredpapergirl @pastelpinkhobbies

[junebugwriter]

Transition III

I have a problem, and the problem is that I push myself too fast all the damn time.

I say this specifically in regards to the rate at which I'm transitioning. I met with my therapist this past week, and I talked about the struggles I'm facing with going in public in girlmode. Last week, I was in public again and had a panic attack. I did great--I went to the doctor, I went to Ulta to get some starter makeup, then Target to get my HRT--but I still panicked. The core of my problem is not any transphobia or hostility I faced, but rather my own self-confidence. I don't have any.

We dug down into the root causes of it. How I never developed a healthy sense of self because of my history of an abusive relationship and then a toxic work environment right as I began my career. I was caught up in a slew of demoralizing experiences, which chipped away at my self-identity to the point where I didn't have much of a sense of self at all for the majority of my adulthood. So how in the hell am I supposed to be self-confident now when I don't even know how to be confident in the first place?

Not that I had much confidence in childhood or adolescence mind you. Being deep in denial about my gender identity, coupled with the constant background radiation of living in small-town conservative Texas, there was little chance of me having any kind of healthy sense of self. So what makes me think that I can just go outside and walk around Target in feminine clothes and not crumple into a puddle of anxiety at the horror of existing in public as my authentic self.

I'm scared of that authenticity, because most of my life, I've been told I was wrong in some way. Deficient. Incorrect. Not "man" enough. My brain has retained all those negative thoughts deep in the recesses of my mind. I know why it tells me these things. Brains are really good at survival, but not very good at making a person happy. Brains and human instinct for millennia of human development were focused entirely on surviving to the next day and reproducing a new generation. My mind has absorbed all the rules, norms, and social knowledge so that I can police myself into conforming better.

I know I was pretty garbage at it, but the part of my brain that wants to protect me still wants me to conform. Being honest in the past has gotten me hurt. Being authentic has always backfired against me. So my fear of stepping outside of any norm or social safety structure is a real struggle.

This past week, I went to go see an opera in San Francisco. While there, my partner got my attention, and pointed out someone who was worthy of note. This person was tall, had a beard, full makeup, and the most elegant of black evening gowns and some killer heels. I only saw this person in passing, but immediately I envied their aesthetic and confidence. They were strong enough to go to the opera as themselves, resplendent in gender nonconforming glory. They were happy, free, and beautiful. I was in boymode, because I couldn't bear to be in public and ruin the night with a panic attack that could have been avoided. But seeing them made me hopeful that I might be able to do the same in the future.

I'll try my best to be more classically feminine. I want to be that way, because that's what comes natural to me. But I need to slow down. I need to allow myself to build up the confidence necessary to be myself. I might get there one day. Just not yet. And I can't hurry myself any faster than I need to be.

So I will be patient. I'll try to build up my confidence on days when I'm not in public. Be myself when I have the moral reserves for it. As much as I wish I could go faster, transition is a process that takes an achingly long time to go through. And I'm only beginning. I've got to give myself the grace to go slow.

[twistednuns]

February 2024

Waking up after a dream inspired by the movie Poor Things. Inserting your brain into a younger body. Living in oblivion until one day somebody shows up to break the news to you. That you've lived another lifetime before and you have to be reminded of who you were, what you knew.

Drawing the gorgeous Sharing card, resonating with it right away. The Queen of Fire is designed in my colours and shapes. She is me.

Sketching something. Loving every line.

Eating a thick soup with tiny noodles and semolina dumplings for breakfast.

Jamie Lee Curtis' guest appearance in The Bear. She's almost unrecognizable. Oh, and Olivia Coleman's, too!

Something finally falling into place: I've been searching for a new wallet for a while now and suddenly a memory of my grandma's old Aigner checkbook popped into my head. And it was the perfect solution. What an amazing local brand! I discovered that there is a store nearby and shopping there was quite the experience. I felt very fancy. And they put so much thought into the product design! Perfect little boxes and everything is so elegant. I also got their classic leather belt.

Organising a SingStar evening. I love how easygoing, welcoming and gentle Felix is. Being weird with Robert. And Ben, my boo. We love each other's colours and he really does give the best compliments (he said that I've got such great taste and always look stylish). Cuddles, leveling up our friendship in a way. Being more at ease around each other.

Car conversations with Luna.

A feeling of having leveled up again; I seem to attract abundance (on a material level). But maybe that's just confirmation bias.

Accepting defeat when I was wrong, following advice.

The moonrise. I love how big and yellow the moon seems when it's hanging low over the horizon.

Liquid Love: sliding over/around/under/on top of each other - blindfolded, naked and covered in oil. I loved touching squishy, chubby body parts. Very sensual and immersive. I wasn't really present in the room anymore and tried to feel rather than think. Cuddle puddle afterwards. I got close to Chili and Daniel (whose toe I accidentally hurt before the event and it felt quite healing that he came close to me and initiated touch) and Christian surprised me with his tongue when I wasn't paying attention.

Interesting effects of Kundalini Yoga: waking up crying from a very emotional, nightmare-ish dream. Feeling so heavy, sluggish, overwhelmed, tired. It's not entirely positive but it's so interesting how much energy seems to be moved here?

An ex-student reaching out to me because she needed a letter of recommendation for an international college.

Walking through the forest with C., scouting a treasure hunt route. Keeping calm despite his weird mood. Staying present, observing.

A surprisingly calm museum visit with my class. And when we went to Pinakothek der Moderne I was happy how much fun some of them seemed to have experimenting, talking about art. I found some interesting works by Max Ernst and set the intention come back again soon, alone. Even just the large, empty building with the high ceilings has a soothing effect on me.

Biting into a slice of moist, warm black olive ciabatta.

Cooking actual food with vegetables I had at home and having fruit for dessert instead of getting trash food on the way home after coming home from work in a bad mood. So much more nourishing. I'm proud of myself for realising I have to be the person I want to become. Now.

Peeling off last post-it before the cool colour scheme finally started. Orange, yellow, purple.

Picking up C. from labour court. Meeting his friend Benni who discussed leftist concepts and utopian ideas with me over lunch. I felt really good when I realised that it was easy for me to follow his train of thought and that I'd missed intellectual conversation.

Connecting with C. Spending time together, walking through a furniture design store. Spicy time and a long afternoon nap. Talking about our triggers and therapy experience. I realised how much fear of failure (and success?) I have, how vulnerable my ego is when it comes to art and doing something new. Even just writing an application for a job I'm not officially qualified for scared the shit out of me. Impostor syndrom? C. still wants me to write a page from my imaginary novel for him and all I can think about is why I can't do it. And he suggested that I could study psychology. I'm intrigued and yet... Why is this so hard? What's holing me back?

Staying calm when I had to call roadside assistance twice in one afternoon. My car broke down in the middle of a busy street with three lanes. I simply accepted my fate and asked for help (and that might actually be the lesson I have to learn from all this).

Reaching out to Andrea. Finally meeting Kosta the cat.

A dream: Sarah as Ganesha with a giant elephant trunk. Facial tattoos: red, black and green symbols and ornaments. Massive, moving, heavy. I woke up from an imaginary alarm sound. Did I really dream up an alarm clock? Wow. And just in time for my appointment, too.

New Moon Aquarius promises a career breakthrough for Taureans. Let's hope for the best.

Something very banal: having kitchen roll at home for a change. I took one home when we had too many after a Slutering event and remembered that I could just... wipe something off without worrying about getting the rag dirty and having to wash it! Nice.

One of the best weeks of my life: a Hero's Journey seminar during the spring holidays. Going in with no expectations, receiving everything and more. I learned so much about myself. Activated my emotional side and practised feeling. I appreciate all those people who acted as my mirrors by sharing their vulnerability, being their authentic selves. We supported each other, learned from each other, celebrated each other. I'm thinking about becoming a Gestalt therapist now. It's such a great somatic method. And fun, too.

Cuddles. Conversations. Choking. And massages. / Seriously though, I asked Ralf to show me his Brazilian Jiu Jitsu choke hold and I travelled to another dimension for a few minutes. It got me GO high. On another note: I realised I want to channel my aggression and lust in a healthy way. Perhapy BJJ training is a good option. Let's fight!

My hero outfit. A golden robe. A glitter mask. Starburst earrings. Black wings. So me.

"Boundaries are not the same thing as walls." - such an important insight. I started journalling in German. Automatically. I'm taking off masks, tearing down walls. Perhaps I don't need the protection of a foreign language anymore. I can feel my own cringey words now. I allow myself to be seen without make-up. I try to show up as the person I really am. I won't hold back anymore.

An intuitive painting I made with buttery crayons on kraft paper. Swirly. Like a weird map of a cozy corner somewhere in the Universe.

Stickers from Franzi's friend: Sailor Moon characters fighting the patriarchy and nazis.

I feel so much love for the people in my group, especially Ralf and Teresa of course, but also Franzi, Frank and Feli. The F-gang. And for all the wonderful people in my life. I appreaciate Christian so much. The ideal balance between freedom and support. He expands my horizon in many ways and I love how he naturally includes me in his family life, his friend group. It feels so good to be a part of something. To be included. And at the same time, I'm free to do my own thing. Meet other people, follow my bliss. He actively encourages it.

I'm relaxed and happy. With this new mindset, even teaching feels easier. I'm more gentle with myself. I follow my impulses. I hope this state of being stays with me for a long time.

Ralf. I'm so grateful I met him. He helped me so much with his observation that I need someone to be gentle with me. His daddy energy. His wild playfulness. His Gemini communication mode. I loved that I was able to pay him back with some mum energy when I shipped his dirty laundry off to Jena. I included a heartfelt letter and the Exploding Kittens card game. I felt like a giddy teenager for a whole day when he implied that he's attracted to me too. I really hadn't noticed. We've been talking, flirting, messaging daily for a week now. So far none of us seems to be bored. I'm looking forward to our reunion!

Teresa. What a lovely human being. I connected with her right away. She's so intelligent, shares my passion for language. And she's so warm, empathic, benevolent, supportive. I ended up talking to her about my idea for a career coaching and she went all in right away. We even might work together. And maybe, just maybe, we're gonna record a podcast together. Even if just to amuse our Heroes messenger group.

I learned that I have a guest appearance in a fun song: Ich wollte doch nur knutschen auf der Party / Sie war gut gelaunt und ihr Name war Kathi / Das Netzwerk ging kaputt und ich musste das klären / Und Kathi hat geknutscht, aber leider mit Sören - Knutschen

More music: making a playlist for Teresa's ride home. And Ralf shared Wann strahlst du?. It's grown on me. The lyrics are everything. Highly relevant for my current state: Ich schulde dem Leben das Leuchten in meinen Augen

Acting in a much more loving way with old friends. Supporting them; touching, hugging, praising them.

Knowing the answers to two sports questions at the pub quiz.

Tuning in with my sonic toothbrush. I chanted and hummed, finally harmonized and changed my pitch. It sounded lovely and reminded my of our RAM chants during morning meditation.

Spending time in the "demon cave" with Lian. Playing airplane. Playing hard. We both loved to be wild - C. was not that amused because he wanted to concentrate on his chess app. But I also started being more gentle with the boy, cuddle him. I've got a feeling that he needs both modes.

"Freiheiten werden nicht geschenkt, man muss sie sich nehmen." - a random flyer on a lamppost, right when I walked past it, back to school, recording a voice message about... exactly that. The synchronicities are back! Life feels magical.

An insanely happy and productive day with the help of Yeli's Finest 50. I was so proud of myself because I even did things I'd been putting off for months. It finally felt right to contact Haus der Kunst and ZEIT Sprachen and ask them for an internship. Things are moving. It's happening. It's coming along. Doors are opening.

Meeting my new osteopath for the first time. I enjoyed his healing, intimate touch while we were talking about all my topics. And I love that we have so much in common. He used to be a civil servant to be able to afford his studies, is a voice actor now, has recently travelled to all my favourite places in Mexico. I'm looking forward to my next appointment.

I finally got a big box of passion fruit from the tree I adopted last year. What a fragrant delivery.

Meeting Becky, learning from each other. Enriching and entertaining as usual.

Finally getting my closet in order. Folding everything, donating a few items, clearing out another shelf to have more room for clothes. What took me so long? / Listening to WILLOW's music throughout the process. It's growing on me: I think I left my consciousness in the sixth dimension

Biting into a physalis thinking Life is delicious.

Saturday afternoon at Haus der Kunst with Sash. Walking through freaky environments, taking pictures of each other. Playing in a room full of feathers. Browsing the avantgarde bookstore. I got a postcard of a Hilma af Klint Altar piece.

Watching Lord of the Rings at C.'s place with his friend Jenny. Spicy morning routine, breakfast with his friends. A stopover at a LEGO church. Spending the whole afternoon soaking in warm water at Therme Bad Aibling. Eating the first ice-cream of the year in the sunshine. Cooking dinner together, talking in bed for a long time.

Ralf cancelled his weekend plans and invited me to Jena. We already have tickets for the planetarium. Really looking forward to seeing him! I've loved learning more and more about him in the past few days. We are so similar!

Something very simple but SO pleasurable: boiled potatoes with salt and butter.

Alex Ava taking two ballroom tickets off my hands when I had to change my plans.

[elprupneerg]

i wouldn't be so upset if i weren't seeing conflicting information between different parts of the amazon page on what the hell weight the yarn is or what the hell crochet hook they recommend using (a sloppy but workable way to tell roughly what size the yarn is) or whether or not it can be washed in a washing machine. some places say its a sport weight/fine weight yarn (so usa yarn weight #2, idk how other countries classify their yarns, maybe its the same, brain is too tired from the hamburger mines to research that right now sorry).

However. i've spent the last 8 months working on a project that uses sock weight/super fine weight yarn, which is yarn weight #1. yarn weights go up as the number goes up, so #1 is smaller than #2, which is smaller than #3, etc. so i'm now very very familiar with how sock weight yarn feels in the hand. i also took a little detour to try making a doily out of some crochet thread i wound up with at some point (probably another thrift store find). crochet thread is yarn weight #0, its very very small. you have to get special super teeny tiny crochet hooks to deal with it. i've still got mine out on my crafting table from the doily project cuz i forgot to put it away.

the yarn that my mom gave me that claims in several places to be a size #2 yarn is not only Way smaller than the #1 yarn i've been using for 8 fucking months. it also is the same size as the doily thread i've got left from the doily project. and it fits in the hook the same way. this is a fucking crochet thread, size #0.

nevermind whether or not i can wash it. what the fuck can i even do with it besides doilies?

the amazon listing for this yarn recommends all Sorts of projects for their possibly machine washable (maybe? depending if you look at the listing or the yarn label or the images on the listing) yarn. such as baby blankets and boots (which definitely won't get puked on/peed on/burped on/dropped in a mud puddle, requiring washing, which is annoying to do by hand when you have a fucking infant). how about some jackets for an adult? you know, with the tiny ass fucking thread? i've been making a cardigan out of size #1 yarn for the last 8 months with only brief distractions by a doily and a couple hats. it is still not done. and i'm not exactly a large person, so if something that would fit me is Still not fucking done after 8 months then how long do you think it will take to make an entire fucking cardigan out of size #0 thread????

my mom ordered some yarn off of amazon for a blanket she's making for my uncle and his wife (i've never met her so i feel weird calling her my aunt yet). but the listings on amazon were very poorly organized so she ended up buying too small of yarn. twice. and neither of them are machine washable/dryable despite her specifically only picking them cuz the listings Claimed they were.

so now i've got 6 skeins of yarn (3 of one kind, 3 of another) and i want to try and figure out what to use it for. but i'm looking up one of them and there's No Fucking Info. like, usually searching "ravelry [brand name of yarn] [sub branding of yarn]" brings up a page with rough production dates, material makeup, yarn gauge, washability, projects people have made with it, etc. and they have info on some pretty niche stuff! i picked up some yarn at a thrift store last year and was able to trace it to being from 1970s-80s west germany.

there is nothing for the kind my mom got. the website on the label is a half broken mess, ravelry has nothing, the amazon store page only has what products they sell and nothing else. i feel like i'm going crazy

[dick-the3rd]

"Limbs just popping up"

Jason: Isn't that your thing? Kyle: Only if you're good. Jason: Damn. So that's never gonna happen. Kyle: *Brushes his knuckles over Jason's cheek gently* You're better than you give yourself credit for. Jason: *BLUSHES and feels strange and uncomfortable and confused.* Jason, trying to sound cool but failing: or maybe you underestimates me. Kyle: oh no, Jason. I know you just right. *presses his lips on Jason's throat and feel him shiver* see, you're already being so good Jason: you wish Kyle: *Hums softly and shifts his lips to blade Jason's jaw.* Jason: *Inhales a deep centring breath trying to pretend that doesn't feel really nice, but ends up tipping his head back to expose his throat a little more.*

Kyle smiles, and Jason can feel the barely there scratch of teeth. Damn if that doesn't make his breath hitch. One of Kyle's hands settles on Jason's waist, fingers curling possessively. "Why don't you let me show you how good it can be?" Kyle suggests on his ear, between open mouthed kisses.

Jason first instinct is to deny it. Play it hard. Dwell a little bit more in denial, but maybe he's a bit tired of making things hard for himself, so, before he thinks too much, he picks up Kyle's hand and slowly deposit kisses each fingertip, before moving on to kiss Kyle's palm. Jason watches as Kyle's face shifts from surprise to hunger.

Jason smirks. "What are you waiting for?"

The grin that Kyle returns is both dazzling and intimidating. It holds promise, and Jason isn't quite sure he knows exactly what that promise is. Sure they'd messed around before. Fights always riled them up, and sometimes Rayner and him just ended up a little closer than expected.

But this is different. This is intentional. This isn't something to blame on adrenaline or emotional moments. This is soft touches and warm feelings that are hauntingly close to real.

Kyle for his part is ignoring his question, watching Jason move to nibble a little at the underside of his wrist. When Jason plants a soft kiss over his pulse, Kyle can't help but to reach up and thread his fingers into Jason's hair.

Kyle tugs just enough to draw Jason's head back. When Jason's Adam's apple bobs with the swallow that follows, and his lips part in a soft gasp, Kyle realizes that the other man is into the hair pull and grins.

Then tightens his fingers pulls tighter. Jason doesn't whimper, but his efforts to hold it back send a shiver down his spine. His eyes flutter closed, and for a brief moment, Kyle sees a side of Jason that's not only soft but trusting.

It's fucking beautiful, and Kyle wants to devour every part of it.

And when Jason opens his eyes, pupils wide and eyelids heavy with lust, Kyle gives in.

He kisses Jason. Soft and lingering, allowing himself to just feel this moment. Jason's hair is silky between his fingers, and Kyle grabs into it, just mindful enough to not pull too hard. Then Jason gasps and the kiss become demanding.

One of Jason's hands sets on Kyle's neck, hot against his damp skin, pulling them even closer together. All Kyle can see and feel and taste is Jason.

When they finally stop to catch their breaths, Jason is flushed, grin so honest and so completely Jason that Kyle can't help but take a peek. Then two. And then three because Jason isn't stopping him and Kyle is a weak man.

And when Jason shifts his legs, their bodies slip, fitting into each other, and it's Kyle's turn to gasp. He can feel Jason's muscles shivering under him, chest panting and heart beating fast.

Kyle isn't a religious man, but he really wants to go to his knees and worship Jason's body.

Jason starts to get a little flustered at the way Kyle keeps staring at him. He can feel his cheeks getting hotter. When he shifts and their bodies actually line up enough that he gets a bit of friction right where he wants it, he grunts and bites down on his kiss-swollen lower lip.

The little noise is all the encouragement that Kyle needs. He remembers his earlier promise of the extra hands and breathes softly, "You're being /so/ good…" It is all the 'warning' he gives before making good on his 'reward.'

The green disembodied hands that wrap around Jason's wrists look just a /little/ too large to be an ordinary human's. Jason gets a good view of them--they look just as strong and solid as the feeling around his wrists suggest--right before they jerk him up and back. His bare feet stumble on the floor before he's lifted just high enough that he can only brush the rug with his toes.

Kyle shifts to his knees and tips his head, watching Jason come to terms with his situation. "So good…" he reaffirms. Despite how into this Jason obviously is, Kyle's not sure if he'll be able to get closer without a kick to the face. The chains he constructs to hold Jason's ankles snugly in place with just enough of a gap between his legs are nothing more than prudent.

"Fuck, Rayner…" Jason can feel himself start tenting in his pants. If the situation weren't enough to get his attention, the gentle praise that Kyle keeps dropping so casually would have him a pliable mess all on their own. But the rest of this? It's fantastic.

More arms and hands begin to take shape seemingly from no where. None as large as the first pair, but a combination of smaller and bigger sizes make it feel like there's at least five people touching him. They begin to wander up under his shirt, teasing his nipples and dragging ghostly nails across his skin. They dip beneath the waistband of the jogging pants he'd slipped into when he went to answer the door, slide under his boxer briefs, and start to kneed at his ass cheeks. They touch him just the right way to get him excited but none of them touch him just the way he /wants/ to be touched.

No, Kyle's saving that honour all for himself.

Jason rocks under the searching hands, his hips starting to work a steady rhythm as he bucks softly against nothing more than the pressure of cotton against his skin. Kyle takes the opportunity to crawl closer. He takes a firm but not piercing bite of Jason's inner thigh just to make him squirm, then shifts his face so that he can brush his cheek against the bulge of his cock. The nuzzle is equal parts cherishing and encouraging, and even Kyle can't tell if he's being sweet or not. "You look so good like this. A work of art… I want to touch you and taste you and get to know you everywhere"

The hands start to work Jason's pants lower until they get hung up on his hard on and cause him to whimper a little. Kyle is delighted. "You gonna keep being so good for me? Hm?"

Jason doesn't trust his voice not to crack, so he just nods quickly at the question.

Kyle clicks his tongue as Jason is finally freed in front of him. He's beautiful even here. Hair trimmed back neatly making him seem larger. Kyle dips down and brushes his lips against the velvet smooth skin. "Use your words, beautiful…" He's going to worship this man. Ravish him until he screams his name. Swallow his cock down until it makes it hard to breathe, and then return the favour by… Well, he hasn't worked things out that far yet. First things first: he wants confirmation. He wants to hear what Jason has to say.

'Tell me you're mine,' he wants to scream it at the younger man, but instead all he does is place his hands back to gripping possessively at Jason's hips, digging his thumbs in (maybe a little harder than necessary), and staring up at the frankly stunning look on his face.

When Kyle doesn't move again, Jason looks down, and it's a good thing there's still hands holding him up, because his knees buckle. 

Kyle's face is flushed, lips parted so close to his dick that Jason can feel each breath, but those eyes… They're staring right at Jason, burning and demanding, like Jason is the most important thing in the universe. 

It's ironic that this is what makes him feel naked and vulnerable. 

Jason wants to squirm, but Kyle's fingers dig hard on his skin, making it impossible for him to move. The construct hands keep pinching and rubbing and holding Jason in every possible way. 

Kyle keeps staring and Jason just wants Kyle to do something. 

"Please." He begs, "Anything. Everything. I'll be good for you."

Kyle kisses the area around his dick, open mouthed and slightly sucking. Jason moans this time, hips bucking and Kyle's fingers just press tighter. It will be a miracle if Jason doesn't end up bruising. 

"Anything you want, I'll do. God, please, Kyle. I'm-"

Jason sobs when Kyle finally takes him on his mouth. Tongue slowly pressing his entire length as he takes Jason's dick. 

"Just take me, please."

And when Kyle /finally/ starts moving, all Jason can do is moan and cry promises. 

[heyitsduff]

it's been a week, now, and i think i've probably got my thoughts together well enough to make this post.

i didn't start watching techno or any dsmp member until around early 2021, when the first episode of the great potato war popped up in my recommended box. i watched it. and then i watched the next 2 parts. and soon enough i was neck deep in skywars commentaries and watching a man beat minecraft with a steering wheel.

needless to say i was completely hooked, and i continued watching techno's videos frequently throughout the year. c!techno was my favorite character on the dsmp by far, his was the only pov i even watched most of the time. something about him and his content was just so captivating, it could make something as fickle as my horrible adhd brain settle down and focus for a while, just to watch his vods.

when he told us he had cancer, i was worried, but i convinced myself everything would be fine. after all, he didn't seem too concerned about it, so i shouldn't be either, right?

and that feeling was only strengthened by the next update. they got the tumor out, and he got to keep his arm! of course it'll take a while to recover, but he's in the clear now, right?

i was in the shower when that last video dropped. i went in feeling good, i'd had a pretty nice day and was getting ready to relax and veg out in front of my computer until i decided to go to bed.

instead i, a whole 17 year old male (almost a grown ass man, as my dentist would say) spent the next two hours hunched over sobbing in the bathroom over a minecraft youtuber.

now, i've been lucky enough to not have experienced a death in the family, at least not someone i actually knew, since my great grandmother died when i was in first grade. but that also meant that i hadn't really experienced grief like this before, and i didn't know what to do with myself.

i ended up texting my mom. she was just downstairs, but i don't really like being seen when i'm vulnerable, and i was honestly afraid she'd judge me for getting this emotional over someone i didn't know personally.

but she didn't, thankfully. she said i might not have known him personally, but i knew part of him, and that part was important to me, and its okay to grieve for that. which is the way i've tried to think about this whole thing from then on.

after i was sure i was done crying, i went back to my room and didn't talk to anyone in person for the rest of the night. i needed the time to process, now that the shock was over and i'd gotten the immediate feelings out.

i ended up having a short text conversation on discord with a friend of mine who was also a fan of techno. he said he'd managed to avoid crying, but only because he knew if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. i think that's the most genuine emotion i've ever seen from him. that's how much our minecraft pig man affected people.

i delivered the news myself to my other friend. that was rough.

i think i've let a few more tears flow, a sniffle here and there, since then, but i've been able to return to functioning like normal.

i'm gonna really miss techno. he was someone i looked up to, who i could always count on to cheer me up when i was having a rough day. but i know he wouldn't want me to just sit here in a puddle of my own tears, no matter how much i want to sometimes. hell, he'd probably call me a nerd for getting all choked up again writing this post.

good game, pig man.

gg.

[dabideserveslove]

😭6?

y'all just really wanna hurt don't you???

Let's see... the saddest/angstiest moment of the ShigaDabi starving artists AU.

Ok so in this one it's actually (trans) Tomura that's pregnant - I know, big shock since usually it's Dabi - and he ends up going into labor early and I think that would have to be the angstiest moment. I've got a decent chunk of that scene written already and I was only going to share a small bit but then I couldn't decide which small part to share so you get all of it I guess lmao.

Enjoy?

Also I'm still doing these so please, if you're interested, send me asks about my AUs!

“Touya…”

The name was breathed out all soft and shaky, barely audible yet it instantly grabbed Dabi’s attention. Tomura never used his real name. Not unless he was angry or if something was wrong and well… he didn’t sound angry.

Which meant something was wrong.

Really wrong.

Last time Dabi heard Tomura saying his name like that - all terrified and breathy - it was after he was shot. Considering Dabi hadn’t heard any gunshots go off, it probably wasn’t that but that didn’t make Dabi feel any better in the slightest.

Tomura was pregnant, after all, and Dabi’s read the books. He knows how many things can go wrong during a pregnancy. The thought that something might be wrong with the baby wasn’t something Dabi even wanted to think about yet those were the very thoughts and worries that flooded his mind.

The pregnancy may have been a complete accident and there may have been some contemplation about whether or not to see it through when they first found out and maybe Dabi had been secretly hoping that Tomura wouldn’t keep it at the time but…

Now?

Fuck, Dabi would rather die than let something happen to that baby.

“What’s wrong?”‌ Dabi asked as soon as he remembered how to breathe again, looking up from his phone to stare over at Tomura.

At first glance, Dabi couldn’t see anything wrong. Tomura was just leaning against the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room, all pale and wide-eyed. He had one hand settled on top of his swollen stomach, making the oversized sweater he wore almost accentuate the baby bump.

With a soft sigh, Dabi pushed himself up from the couch and started to walk towards Tomura when he didn’t get an answer. “Babe, c’mon. You can’t just say my name like that and then not -”

Dabi stopped mid-step, mouth frozen partially open, when his eyes focused on the liquid dripping down Tomura’s thighs and collecting into a puddle on the floor between his feet.

“My water broke,” Tomura muttered finally; essentially confirming all of Dabi’s worst fears.

That wasn’t supposed to happen yet. Not for another two months.

“Oh,”‌ Dabi breathed, still numbly just watching the puddle on the floor slowly grow as his brain tried to fully comprehend what was happening. “Uh,”‌ he let out a slow, shaking breath, “And you’re uh… You’re sure it’s not…”

“I didn’t fucking piss myself,”‌ Tomura growled, voice still trembling but somehow that just added to the amount of raw anger and murderous intent that had seeped into his tone.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That’s not good. Fuck.”

“If you say fuck one more time instead of doing something useful, I will murder you.”

Dabi did not doubt Tomura at all in that respect but his mind was still reeling and he had no idea what to do. So, instead, he took in a shaky breath and said,

“Shit.”

“Touya.”

That time it was definitely anger causing the usage of his real name, but that wasn’t what snapped Dabi out of his shock. No, what jogged his brain enough for it to start working again was the pained noise Tomura let out as he leaned harder against the doorway. 

They had to get to the hospital. Right? Yeah. All the books said water breaking = hospital time. 

A shaky moan from Tomura brought Dabi’s attention back to his boyfriend, though, and -

Fuck, Tomura needed pants. 

Speaking of, Dabi realized he might want to put some fresh clothes on, too. Who knows how long they’ll be at the hospital and - hold on,

They haven’t packed a hospital bag yet.

What even goes into a hospital bag? Dabi had no idea. Wait, did they even need one? 

At least an outfit for the kid, right? Or, well, she probably won’t be coming home with them for a while, will she? 

Honestly, Dabi didn’t have a clue. 

Nothing was ready yet, though, so he really hoped she could wait a few days at least. Anyway, they didn’t even have a crib yet and only had a handful of clothes and shit, Dabi still hasn’t figured out how to install the carseat so -

“Todoroki! What the fuck are you even doing?!” 

Well, that got Dabi’s attention, considering he’s never heard Tomura call him by his family name. 

Ever.

“Uh,” Dabi struggled to come up with something, mind still going about a hundred miles an hour which proved to be even less helpful than when it was blank. 

“Oh my God, you’re fucking useless. Can you just get me a towel and some pants?!” Tomura yelled, frustration and panic and stress all spilling over in the way his voice shook and cracked and… were those tears on his face?

Fuck. Okay. 

Dabi had to get it together. Now. And that might have just been the punch to the gut he needed to do it because damn did it hurt realizing that Tomura was crying because of him - because Dabi wasn’t able to do what Tomura needed him to in the moment.

“Okay - Okay, doing it,” Dabi stammered.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day One | Persephone

Hey lovelies— so as per my usual shenanigans I've decided this will have no schedule and that I will play god to my own creation because what is life without some chaos? The pros are you might not have to wait a week between updates, the cons are you might have to wait a week between updates. In all seriousness, please enjoy my lovelies!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 3.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She can’t hear what the man in the truck says to him— the walls of this house are surprisingly thick. She supposes that’s a good thing. It means she will be able to go about her days normally while cooped up here. Well, as normal as possible. She doubts she’ll be able to get away with her three am rom-com marathons and ice-cream binges. She doubts she’ll get away with screaming in her sleep— and in the shower and at the breakfast table and when doing any, little thing that makes her remember that her life is one, constant nightmare.

It’s only three days— all she has to do is stay awake for three days.

While his head— her body guard’s head— is turned she leans against the kitchen sink, inching back the white lace curtain for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s like a little game at this point. She peeks at him, his eyes snap to hers, and she squeals and drops the curtain. Thank god the walls are thick. It’s almost unnerving how tuned he is to every little movement— not almost, it is unnerving but she supposes that is what makes him a good fit for this job. A good fit for keeping her alive. Like she has been doing for months now, she ignores the way her chest squeezes painfully.

Through the little strip of window that she allows for herself, she traces over his features one last time. Cropped black hair, a square jaw, at least two days worth of stubble. He looks like a bodyguard— rough, dangerous, manly— and that’s before taking into account the sheer size of the man. She is on her tiptoes, one hand pushing against the stainless steel below her for dear life, and she still has to crane her neck to properly see his face. She refuses to let her eyes wander any further than that— she had already glimpsed at the rest of him when he had made the short walk from the truck to the house. She already knows he’s massive.

His eyebrow twitches and she drops the curtain— she may not be as fast as he is but she’s a quick learner. Had she held the curtain open longer she is sure his eyes would have flicked to hers again. Those are the rules of the game, after all. She hears a muted thumping and the door handle jiggle from across the room, spinning towards the faded farmhouse door. She watches as the door handle turns, her throat tight, wondering where all the air in the room went— it was there a second ago.

The door pushes open and she jumps away from the sink, only just realizing what it’ll look like if he comes inside to her still hunched over the window. Of course, he’s already seen her but that’s beside the point. Part of the game is not talking about the game. A boot comes into view— the black, military grade kind— and it hits her like a punch to the gut that this is real— there really is someone out there trying to kill her. Now she really can’t breath. She can only force her lungs to expand to draw in some oxygen before her bodyguard finds her sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.

The boot is quickly followed by a leg, which is then, by default, followed by a torso and a head. A head that turns and watches her freeze, red handed like a bandit, in the middle of the kitchen. Gods, she should have just kept leaning against the sink— this is worse! Her hands are up and everything, shot out in front of her like she’s about to jump him or something. Yes, her— the girl currently in a hoodie that pools around her legs, displaying her knobby knees and bad posture— about to jump him— the man who had to practically duck to get through the doorway. She could laugh. In fact, she almost wishes he would laugh at her. She wishes he would do anything but look at her with that blank expression and those ice blue eyes.

“Uhm—” she blinks, trying to think of something to say other than holy shit you’re a giant— which, for the record, is what she wants to say— “hi?”

Are you serious, y/n?

He tilts his head at her and she almost cries. Not the same fear ridden, heartbroken, panicky cries of late. More so the awkward, why the fuck would you say that to the man charged with keeping you alive brand of cries. The normal kind. She drops her hands to her sides, slipping them into the pouch of her hoodie and tangling her fingers together. She can only allow herself to display one embarrassing thing at a time.

The man stays silent for a moment, each second of which makes her cheeks flame hotter and hotter, before finally opening his mouth. “Hi.”

Her chest deflates— some of the heat subsiding. He copied her. Whether purposefully or mockingly it alleviates some of the stupidity she’s feeling. She takes a few steps backwards, her bare feet pittering rather loudly over the worn hardwood. Well, that didn’t last long— there’s that embarrassment again.

“I’m y/n,” she squeaks out— gods, is Mickey Mouse in the building? “I guess you already know that though, huh?”

It was a stroke of genius putting her hands in her pocket— at least now he can’t see the way they shake furiously. She has to resist smashing her head against the sink. Nothing about this situation is optimal, to say the very least. Here she is making small talk with a man who could tear her in half. Her eyes drift to where his red henley pulls taut around his biceps— are they bigger than her head?

“James—” her eyes flick back up, face hotter than the sun, both from her blatant staring and the deep gravel of his voice— “but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t know why, probably because she’s an idiot or because she isn’t expecting him to say more than three words. He seems like the strong, silent type. Maybe that is just the rom-coms though. Maybe her brain is just mush now.

“Okay,” she all but whispers, backing further into the sink. His piercing eyes have yet to leave her— something which makes her knees knock together and fingers clench. “Which should I call you?”

He tenses, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and she has to swallow the bile that rises in her throat. It’s day one and she’s already offending him. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down until the tangy, metallic taste that she has grown too familiar with these past months floods her mouth. She tells herself that she does it to keep from cursing. Lying to herself is another game she likes to play.

The longer he remains quiet, the more she regrets asking the question. His blue eyes are still latched on her, drifting over the space between her eyes and her busted lip, but somehow they also seem miles away. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her— seeing her— or if he’s seeing something else entirely. It isn’t until she pushes off the counter, taking a hesitant step forward, her foot slapping against the wood like it’s trying to embarrass her again, that he blinks. She pulls one of her hands from the puddle that is her hoodie, sliding it over her hair. Can he see the way it shakes?

Probably.

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It was a dumb ques—”

“Bucky,” the word is rushed out, falling over her own stuttered babbling. He slows after that, his face remaining stoic but his cheeks dusting with the slightest hint of pink. “Call me Bucky.”

She doesn’t point it out— she doesn’t have a death wish. Her being here right now, standing across from a literal giant, barefoot and shaking, is proof enough of that. Instead she nods gently, lowering her hand slowly. He’s not going to attack her— he isn’t a wolf— but still she takes the precaution. Better safe than sorry.

“Bucky it is then.”

He nods stiffly and she pretends like it doesn’t make her hands shake harder. She waits for him to speak, eyes drifting over the blue cupboards and the breakfast nook, taking in the applications of the home and trying not to scream. She feels so out of place, not used to the warmth in the room— the lingering smell of yeast and the flowers in the vase on the table. She used to bake all the time. Now she can barely bring herself to microwave frozen dinners. The sun that filters through the crack in the curtains and lands against her cheek feels like pure fire. She spends her days in the dark— she wouldn’t be surprised if she was allergic to the sun itself now. Allergic to all the things she used to enjoy.

The silence is too much— she has to speak to keep her throat from closing. If she doesn’t then it may not open again.

“So—” she draws the word out, her eyes flopping to the floor where her toe scuffs against a particularly worn board— “we just kinda follow each other around then?”

His face doesn’t change, his lips remaining in the same, expressionless line— a master of one trade. “Pretty much. I follow you.”

“And make sure I don’t die.” She fills the rest in— there’s no point not to. He’s definitely seen the pictures.

Finally his expression shifts, his lips pressing together tersely. It’s an answer in it’s own right— he pities her. He shifts his weight between his feet, the floorboards creaking below him. It could just be her but the sound slices through the room— loud and unforgiving— and she can’t stop the way she flinches. He freezes, obviously noticing her reaction. She almost slaps herself. Leave it to her to make an already tense situation worse. Is it going to be this awkward the entire time?

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is softer than his boots, barely reaching her ears as it cuts through the rigid atmosphere.

She doesn’t know what to say— how do she tell her bodyguard that she doesn’t believe him? He’s supposed to be the one saving her life. It feels risky to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Like telling the universe that she wants to die. She doesn’t want to die. It’s just hard not to think about death when it follows her everywhere she goes. For twenty-four years she was just y/n. Now look at her.

The queen of death.

She doesn’t know what to say so instead she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

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

She makes grilled cheese for lunch. It is nothing special but the smell of the butter alone makes the energy she has to scrape together to make them worth it. She can’t remember the last time she cooked like this— the last time she tasted anything but freezer burnt macaroni and lumpy gravy. A couple times she almost drops the spatula, her fingers not used to having to be so coordinated, but the promise of melted cheddar has her fighting through the tremors. That and the audience of one, standing next to her with his arms crossed like he’s judging her culinary skills rather than looking for snipers.

It’s all in her head. That’s what she tells herself at least.

“You want extra cheese?”

She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her face— is there something on her cheek? “Sure.”

It’s all in her head.

She flips the sandwiches, watching as the fluffy white bread is replaced with a perfect, golden brown toast. Her stomach growls, the sound somehow louder than the sizzling pan in her hand. The scream bubbles in her throat again— fuck. Why must everything she does be so humiliating? Why can’t she just keep it together for three days!

“Bacon?” Cue the voice crack.

“Bacon?” He repeats the word back like he hasn’t the faintest clue what a pig is— like somehow he’s a giant of a man but has never touched a piece of meat in his entire life.

Like it’s the dumbest question he has ever been asked. She swallows— hard— her cheeks pooling with heat again. She’s starting to wonder if it ever even left. If he asks she’ll blame it on the steam rising off the pan or her hoodie or both. But he won’t ask— he won’t speak until he has to. It did not take her long to gather that fact.

“You’ve never had bacon on grilled cheese?” It feels like he’s glaring at her.

It’s all in her damn head.

The floorboards groan underneath Bucky again and instead of flinching this time she tries to imagine what they might be saying. Save me, he’s crushing me! She flicks her eyes down, glancing at those military grade boots and then at her own toes, tiny and feeble compared to the size of his gear. One wrong step and her foot would likely be broken. She isn’t too worried about that though— he seems careful. His movements thus far have been slow and calculated, skirting around her and leaving at least a few feet between them at all times. Maybe that isn’t to keep from stepping on her though— maybe he just doesn’t like her. She wouldn’t blame him.

“You say it like that’s unheard of.” He doesn’t say it angrily but there’s no exuberance in his voice either— just the monotone she’s come to expect. It’s been one hour and she can already see how the next seventy-one are going to play out.

“Where I’m from it is.”

There’s a pause— the sound of butter crackling against the pan and of the steady picking up of rain against the kitchen window as it eats away at the sunshine— and she’s expecting the conversation to drop there. He isn’t there to entertain her, after all. That’s what the TV is for— what Leonardo DiCaprio is for.

But then there’s an answer. “Where are you from?”

The corner of her mouth lifts— an action so foreign she can practically see the dust shedding from her rusty smile— and she turns from the frypan long enough to meet his icy eyes and to throw out an arm, putting the front of her hoodie on display for the stoic man.

“SoCal.”

Her mouth lifts higher when Bucky raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He could be mocking her but she chooses to believe he’s interested. She chooses to believe that they are making progress and that she won’t have to spend three days talking to the walls. She turns back to the sandwiches, flipping them for the last time before laying down a few strips of bacon next to them.

She isn’t expecting him to keep going but she also isn’t complaining when his voice tickles her ears again. “Caltech, huh? S’that Pasadena?”

She tries to keep her smile from morphing into a full blown grin— she isn’t sure if her poor lips would be able to handle it. It’s been too long since she last used her mouth this much; both for smiling and talking. “Yes sir— born and raised.”

He hums and she watches from the corner of her eye as he leans to the window, peering out of it for a moment. There’s no one out there— at least she strongly doubts there is. This place is in the middle of nowhere. She hasn’t even heard a car since the truck that dropped Bucky off drove away. It’s supposed to be peaceful. She doesn’t see it. All she sees is the dreadful but necessary silence— at least hopefully that way they’ll hear someone coming.

“How about you? Where are you from—” she flips the bacon, pushing it around the pan, her mouth watering at the thought of the greasy, gooey goodness she’s about to consume— “You mind finding some plates?”

She hears him rummage through the cupboard above his head— well, above her head, in front of his— before two mismatched pieces of dishware appear before her nose. Grabbing them, she lets the corners of her lips tick up just the tiniest bit further.

“Indiana— but spent most of my time in Brooklyn.”

“It shows.” She muses, not turning to see whether or not he appreciates the comment.

It’s true regardless— she can hear some of the mannerisms of New York in his voice. Not many. He hasn’t said enough for her to truly gauge just how strong his accent is. Still it’s there, in the gruffness of his tone, just like she’s sure the SoCal shines through in her. At least it normally does— lately she hasn’t exactly been the picture of sunshine.

She removes the sandwiches from the pan, layering them carefully onto the plates. After staring at them for a moment she settles on the one that she wants, handing Bucky the bigger of the two. It’s only fair— he could probably eat at least four. She watches as the giant gives it a glance, rolling her eyes when he hesitantly lifts it to his lips, taking the smallest of bites. Is he afraid of a sandwich?

“I promise I’m not trying to poison you— I need you to stay alive, remember?”

He only grunts.

She has to turn away when he takes a bigger bite, her eyes refusing to detach themselves from his lips. Unprofessional and inappropriate. The orphan and the bodyguard. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, shoving the thought to the back of her mind and replacing it with the heavenly taste of gooey cheese, melted butter, and greasy bacon. She doesn’t have to dissect the thoughts of her delicious food like she would have to the other ones. Cheese doesn’t require a checklist about whether or not her grief quota is up to code. Clearly it’s not— clearly she’s just sick in the head. She takes another bite.

The two eat in silence for a couple minutes, the tension in the room melting for the first time since she introduced herself. Thank gods for cheese.

After a few more moments Bucky sets his plate down, turning back to the window. At first she thinks she is hearing things— like her mind is now also playing tricks on her as well as making her feel like a terrible person— but then it registers and she has to fight back another inappropriate smile.

“You were right about the bacon.”

Maybe three days won’t be so bad.

____________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license​

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

A bit of angsty fluff here so what if the night before the battle to take back wall Maria levi and his wife (maybe a civilian) are taking a bath together and having soft emotional sex like for the potential last time and in the middle his wife stops and say "promise me you'll comeback" and levi is a realist so he says "you know I cant promise that" and his wife starts to cry a little and just says "even if it's a lie I need to hear you say it"--- just want to say this isn't necessarily a request but its something that I've been thinking about for a minute I needed to get it off my chest if you want to write it be my guest😘😘

Ha, haha, so... Here I am. I know it took forever but I tried my best to make this a pleasant read. I always think my nsfw writting is cringeworthy, but since I've grown as a writer I decided to write this, to test the waters a little

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Warnings: Nsfw below the cut you guys, proceed at your own risk

Every Me And Every You

Watered down, salty droplets of sweat sneaked into the corners of your open mouth as you fought to catch your breath. Levi's lips rested inches below yours, slightly parted, waiting painfully to launch onto any place of your skin again. It was the build up that was killing him; your nose pointed at his cheek, your forehead pressed to his, your small huffs of air as you exhaled, both of your breaths mingling in the air.

He hadn't had a chance to notice if the water had run cold. The splashes on his thighs felt feverous, hot and stinging to the touch. They were conflicting to the smoothness of your wet skin and your feathery soft touches, so much that his mind couldn't focus away.

Apart from the silent whimpers and moans, the eventual splashes the room was quiet. A few candles flickered at the very far corner, illuminating the room just enough for him to be able to witness the expression of pleasure on your face.

Had it not been such an emotionally heavied night he would have thought you were way too soft, way too slow, way too affectionate to your love making. But tonight, nontheless, it was achingly perfect. Your hips bobbed lovingly on his, bum softly gracing the top of his thighs, water dripping down from your wet hair with each slow movement as your hand rested on the back of his nape.

The soft scratches on his undercut elicited deep moans out of his throat. He knew he couldn't control himself from squirming under your mellow touch, had it not been for his longing to get the most of you he would have already been an executed mess.

With his head thrown back, his hands tightly embracing your form to bring you as close to him as it was possible, your dripping chests collided in passion and need, forcing more lewd sounds to escape the both of you as bathwater constantly lapped its way up to his face and neck. Your soft lips pressed chaste kisses everywhere they could launch onto; his cheeks, his eyes, the slight curved bump on his forehead that rested in place above his eyebrows.

Your own heart ached everytime you eardrums vibrated from the sound of his voice. There was this reoccurring thought digging around the insides of your stomach; this could be the very last time you'd get to feel eachother, not merely in this way, but in any way at all. You couldn't quite come at peace with it. Any other given time you'd be fine with dedicating your heart to the cause, but now, now that you finally had a chance to annihilate the enemy, now that you had a chance to live in peace supposing you retook wall Maria, you didn't really want to part ways with him.

You'd be damned if he couldn't stay by your side.

"Please promise me you'll come back." You spoke ever so slightly, stopping only to momentarily pull back to look into his eyes as your palms came to firmly grip onto the sides of his face. When his hazed eyes managed to focuse on yours, loathing the way your movements ceased, cutting him off absurdly.

"You know I cant- ah- do that." He grunted between short hitched breaths. "But I'd be damned if this is the last time."

Nontheless, after such statements, looking directly in his eyes wasn't doing you -or him- any good either; the more you traveled down the spiraling storm of their steel gaze, the less you wanted to accept that tomorrow was a day one of you would have to accept eachother's death. Your fingers burned the skin of his face as you touched him, despairate to elicit a different answer from him.

The dull ache in your lungs, caused by your throbbing heart only severed by each second as you stared down at him with parted lips. Everything around you was spinning, wrapping you in a hot spiraling vertigo, preventing you from realising the salty puddles that were forming inside your eyelids. Your nose automatically snickered, sucking back the unshed tears that had found their way inside your numb nostrils.

"Even if it's a lie," you spoke as your heart sped, beating so loud that your pulse was all you could hear "I need to hear you say it."

Your only answer was a tender, feathery soft kiss.

Your eyes looked deeper into his as you engulfed his mouth in a bruising kiss, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. There was no denying in it, your movements became almost violent, hips bobbing painfully fast at fear of not being able to indulge like this again.

Levi's lips moved on their own accord, sucking skillfully as his teeth nibbled at the crook of your neck, his tongue pushing the section of skin in his mouth right onto his pallete. His skin felt hotter than ever before; as his own heart throbbed in anxiety and greed, his hands clutched onto your pelvis, his fingers delving despairately hard at every point they touched.

"D-don't stop." He popped.

His lower stomach lowered and sank at the need to contain himself. Despite reaching the much wanted high of intercourse what his mind and body ached for wasn't a blunt release. He needed to feel you close, closer than ever, to feel you on his pained body. The way that your body rubbed with his numb torso left him light headed and dizzy. He couldn't move much; just wrapping his arms around you, pressing you absurdly into his embrace was just about enough.

Enough for the furious grind of your hips to finally creep it's lewd way inside his brain, enough to send pleasure through him in agonising waves. He was practically coming undone under your mellow, never ending movements; he felt so powerless in the moment, he was only able to focus on the much needed friction that would bring him over the edge in a way that his silent cries of pleasure fell deaf on his own ears.

You instantly regretted gripping on the sides of the tub behind him, but the need for stability wouldn't allow you to bring both hands on him again. It was in a singular unanticipated moment that your releases came, accompanied with shagged hitched breaths and pants, bodies completely unravelling and collapsing in the touch of each other. Yet, you didn't know for how long you rocked your bodies back and forth in the edge of the bathtub after you lingered in each other's embrace; it seemed like an eternity and yet not enough at the same time.

As you fought to catch your breaths, rapidly kissing eachother as if to prevent your needs, you wished the world had stopped right then and there.

[getitinbusan]

Locked -

Taehyung 

Smut with Taehyung in Paris what could be better? 19+

Happy Birthday Taehyung! You are my sun my moon and all of my stars.

Part of the The Juis Suis Fou de Toi Universe.

Artist Tae AU. 4213 words.

While convincing his girlfriend he should paint her, things get a little sexually abstract.

Contains sex (M/F), Oral (M) Mutual Masturbation (M/F), Swearing, Slight Dom Tae, OC is insecure. Do not be fooled before the read more, there is no cheating in this fic. 

"We're almost home, please don't make me carry you."

Yeontan looked up with big eyes as he defiantly sat in the middle of the sidewalk. Crouching down to his level in defeat you tore a piece of your pastry off and began bargaining.

"It's strawberry your favorite, you can have some if you just stand up."

He let out a little bark seemingly in agreeance with the bribe and stood, tail wagging frantically.

"Tannie," Taehyung scooped the excited dog into his arms while placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Camille, this is my girlfriend Y/N and this," Yeontan wiggled in his arms while licking his face, "is Tannie."

"Oh, Hi."

Shocked you took in the tall gorgeous blonde who accompanied you boyfriend. Why Taehyung was walking around the streets of Paris with her you were unsure, and honestly not very happy. 

"It's really nice to meet you Camille."

Suddenly feeling self conscious you pulled your coat tighter around yourself.

Taehyung, noticing the sudden shift in your mood wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Camille is helping me with the gallery opening. We were going to grab some dinner before we started. Do you want to join us?"

Your mind raced, what do you do?  He hadn't invited you in the first place so obviously you'd be intruding.

If you stayed he'd be looking at you side by side, comparing Pomme to Pomme De Terre. But, if you left they'd be alone, getting to know one another or worse. Maybe they already knew each other better than they should.  

In either scenario your insecurities would be winning. 

"Tannie's getting pretty tired and I was going to stop at the Butcher to grab us dinner." Your eyes fell on his searching for guilt and found nothing but adoration. "But I guess you've already got plans so I'll just catch up with you later." 

He passed the dog back to you, a new look of concern on his face.

"Okay, I guess I'll just see you at home later," he kissed your cheek. 

"Bye Tannie, bye Y/N."

The woman smiled and looped her arm through Taehyung's as they walked towards the cafe. 

"That doesn’t mean anything right Tan? It’s just a French thing I’m sure.” You must be going crazy standing in the street talking to your dog. “So, how do you feel about stopping for some wine?"

You frowned at your four legged companion and for once he seemed sympathetic offering a head tilt and a whimper.

"Don't worry, you can have his Steak." 

Walking home in a daze you searched your memory, had he told you about this? Taehyung liked to work alone, surely you'd remember him mentioning he'd hired an assistant. 

Your feet had suddenly become as tired as your mind. The blue mansard roof of your apartment peeked through the greenery of the blowing trees urging you forward, calling you home.  

Rounding the last corner, the Pont Des Arts had been covered in gaudy yellow caution tape. In the hour and a half you'd been out, workers had begun pulling off rail sections of the love locked bridge.

You felt dizzy, was this a sign? The lock that you'd placed on it signifying your commitment was being taken away. Helpless you stood watching thousands of couples promise's to one another being disassembled.

Pulling your phone from your satin lined pocket your first instinct was to text Taehyung. 

Y/N: I can't believe it, they're dismantling the bridge and taking away our lock 💔 I'm so sad Taehyung, It really meant so much to me. 

Tears rolled down your cheek as you reevaluated the message. Instead of hitting send you deleted and replaced your words

Y/N: The bridge is under construction, maybe take a different way home later. 

You hadn't heard him come home and had no idea how late he'd been out. With sadness and worry getting the best of your brain, sleep seemed like the only way to curb your anxiety. It had been quite an effective method until you found yourself wide awake tiptoeing through your house in the wee hours of the morning. 

The worn floorboards creaked underneath your slow step, the vintage wood was cold to the touch of your bare feet. The old apartment was drafty on the best of days but 4 am carried its own specific type of chill.

A shiver ran up your spine, perhaps one of Le Marais famous revolutionary ghosts had joined in on the quest to find your boyfriend. Or maybe it was just the ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach that the universe was trying to tell you something. 

A faint light glowed yellow under the warped door at the end of the hallway and the sounds of Thelonious Monk's piano drifted through the air the closer you got. 

The painted metal door handle gave way opening to a wall of heat from the radiators lining the enormous windows. 

"Go figure I'd find you in the warmest room in the house."

He was shirtless and seemingly debating the fate of the canvas before him.  With his paintbrush clenched between his teeth he turned, a huge smile warming you instantly. 

"Why aren't you in bed?" He set the brush down and walked over to wrap you in his embrace. 

"I don't like sleeping without you, you're the only thing that keeps me warm in that freezer of a bedroom." 

You stood on your tiptoes to place a peck on his lips. 

"What are you working on? Is it for the gallery?" 

He sighed heavily, "Just another Lavender Field I guess. I'm so uninspired. Why won't you just let me paint you, hmm?" 

His fingers splayed over the lace covered small of your back pulling you in tighter. "What are you so afraid of."

"Tae," you buried your face into the crook of his neck. "Isn't the point of art painting things that people want to look at? You should be painting women like Camille not me."

Pressed to his chest you swear you heard his breath halt. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before he spoke softly.

"Camille is pretty but there is absolutely nothing unique or inspiring about her."

He kissed the top of your head before tugging on your chin to make you look at him.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, but you are a terribly uncooperative muse." 

"I don't want to be Tae, I'm just afraid" 

"What is there to be afraid of? It's just you and me, If you don’t like it I'm the only one who will see it." 

"That's it though, what if…" a tear slipped from your eye, "What if you don't like what you see, what if painting me makes you see all my flaws. I can't stand looking in the mirror for 5 minutes and you want to immortalize my every imperfection on a canvas." 

His face was soft and serious, the lights from the city streaming through the large windows across his honey skin. 

"Sweetheart, how do I make you believe me? I never want you to be uncomfortable but I think if I can show you how you look through my eyes you'll understand what my heart sees every time I look at you.”

Stepping back from him you nodded. Sliding the thin straps off your shoulders you stepped out of the white lace puddle that now lay at your feet. 

"Okay." 

His face lit up like he'd received divine inspiration.

"I have an idea." 

He scurried for a palate, squeezing colors on it like a man possessed. Rummaging for the right brushes he returned presenting them to you like a cat who'd dragged home a mouse. 

"Trust me?"

You nodded, "I do." 

Loading his brush with paint you stood waiting for him to lay the first stroke to the oversize canvas leaning on the wall beside you. 

Raising the tool to his mouth he exhaled a warm breath over it as if trying to take the chill off.

"I've never seen this technique before" 

"It's because I've only just invented it." 

He ran the paintbrush down your torso sending a shiver from head to toe. 

You gasped, "You're not just painting me... you're literally painting Me?"

The biggest smile overtook his face, "You said you trusted me." 

Trying to remain still and not ask questions you watched him work. Diligently mixing colors and trading brushes his design slowly revealed itself. 

"Are you painting me as starry night?"

He stepped back to admire his work. "Like the stars, you guide and inspire me. I think it captures your spirit." 

He shifted the canvas so it was flat to the wall. 

"Come over here." He reached for your hand, "Are you ready? I want you to press yourself against it." 

"Here?"

Sliding in close behind you he raised your arms into position, holding them up.

"Like this, right here." 

His breath felt hot on your skin and your nipples hardened with his words. Gently he used his body weight to press you onto the canvas. 

"Now step back to me slowly." 

Pulling back, the paint had transferred to the canvas. It was stamped with starry breasts, stomach and thighs, it was you and it was beautiful. He dragged his lips down your shoulder as you stood looking at it.

"Now let's do the right side." 

You repeated the process but this time you could feel him growing hard against you. His hands trailed down your sides and his lips moved warm against your ear.

"You've never been sexier."

His rumbles of admiration set your insides on fire. 

"Taehyung I want you."

All the gentle brush strokes and touching had left you aroused aching for him to fill you. 

"Do you need me to take care of you baby?" 

He slid his cloth covered cock over your bare ass, grinding, teasing, slowly torturing your needy cunt. 

"Fuck you until you're screaming my name?" 

Sliding two long fingers deep inside you he held them there motionless. 

Leaning over you, dominating, he growled into your ear.

"Show me how you like it, fuck my fingers like you want to fuck my cock."

You clenched immediately around his digits and he laughed, "that's my dirty girl, now use me to make yourself feel good." 

Throbbing wet and desperate you used his hand to pleasure yourself. Harder and deeper it felt good but it wasn't him.  

"Tae, It's not enough I need your cock."

He snickered again, "why is that, maybe you should tell me." 

He reached his free hand around to pinch your nipple. 

The truth was, nothing could satisfy you once you'd had him inside you. He was huge and perfect and he knew how insatiable you were for him. 

"I need you to stretch me, wanna feel you against my cervix fucking me so hard."

You sounded whiny and it flipped the switch inside him from teasing to wanting instant gratification. 

Pulling his hand away from your breast he undid his pants and kicked them away. His erection fell against your ass as he pressed you back to the center of the canvas. 

"Right here, arms up for me." 

You did as you were told as he took a stance behind you lining himself with your entrance. He could be the most generous gentle lover when needed but right now you both wanted something animalistic and dirty. 

Thrusting hard and deep your whole body slid in an upward motion streaking the paint vertically onto the canvas. 

"Fuck."

It was pleasure, it was pain and it was satisfying to your core. 

"Is that enough for you?" His large hand feel heavy against your ass. 

"Harder." 

"Such a greedy little girl you are." 

Another thrust and you were seeing stars. Splayed across the canvas your cheek dragged through the midnight blue acrylic.

Trying to desperately catch your breath your mouth hung open panting the words fuck me and faster while he pumped furiously into you. 

His fingertips traveled from their grip on your hip to the protruding bud engorged with arousal that lay starved for attention between your thighs. He pressed and rolled your clit softly in contradiction to the rough pounding your pussy was taking. 

"Tae."

His name moaned out of your mouth and it was the only signal he needed to know he'd done his job. He slowed his hips and pulled you down impaling you onto his cock until your walls convulsed around him. He held you there, still for a minute until your senses had come back and you were able to stand on your own. 

His mouth hung open in a grin while his erection still stood hungry for more. 

Pulling the canvas from the wall he laid it on the ground. 

"I think this painting needs some pretty little knee marks on it."

"Show me where." It was your turn to tease. 

He pointed where he wanted you to kneel and shoved his finger into your mouth.

"Right there, and right here," he stroked your tongue with his thumb. 

He pulled his finger away and rubbed his tip around your lips. 

Opening up wide for him he gently began fucking your mouth. Head was always a challenge given his size so it was never rushed.

Gingerly you wrapped your hands around him stroking the length that didn't fit in your mouth. His head was thrown back, eyes closed as puffs of air heaved from his chest in pleasure. 

He was getting close, his now careless thrusts began making you choke around him.

"Fuck, sorry," he pulled back.

You kitten licked and sucked at his tip while he wrapped his hand tightly around himself and began rubbing. 

You looked up at him from the position on your knees. His beautiful body was covered in paint splatters everywhere it had connected with yours 

"Fuck Tae, I love watching you touch yourself." 

"Yeah?" he took a long stroke thumbing the tip. 

"Yeah," you could feel yourself getting worked up again. 

"Lay back. "He stood over you, "Can you see how beautiful I think you are now?" His hands wandered between his legs and he rubbed his balls with one while he resumed stroking with the other. "How sexy I think you are?" 

His words washed over you, arousal peaking you nipples. 

"When I can't find inspiration I imagine you just like this and I masturbate thinking about your perfect tits." 

Your pussy was pulsing at the thought of him in here clearing his head by milking himself. 

"Can you touch yourself for me? Give my imagination something to use next time I'm stuck in here?" 

You nodded, breath heavy in anticipation of cumming again for him. 

"Stick your fingers in your pussy for me." 

You did, moaning instantly. You were sensitive, every nerve was lit like a fuse ready to explode. Pumping your fingers in time with his strokes you were both unravelling quickly. 

His exasperated breathing got louder signaling his immanent release. Picking up speed he came in warm droplets that landed on you and over the canvas on which you lay. 

So turned on watching him you finished your own orgasm mere seconds after he did.

Opening his eyes looking down at you shocked he smiled, "Did we just do that?" He held out his hand to help you up. 

"Yeah, I think we did." you blushed.

Grabbing a clean drop cloth from the shelf he draped it around you as you both stood looking over the painting. 

"It's really not bad, I can still make out the important parts. The way the stars smeared looks intentional like their shooting through the sky." 

Laughing you shook your head, "It's definitely an abstract." 

"As are you," he turned you to the mirror. Painted cheeks, wild hair, dried yellow stars flaking off the skin of your stomach.

"Let's go out!” He abruptly declared. “I want to see you all messy and fucked out with the Eiffel Tower as a backdrop." 

"You're crazy Taehyung, What will people think?" 

"They'll think they're in Paris and that an artist and his muse just made wild passionate love in the wee hours of the morning because they couldn't stand to keep their hands off of one another."

He grabbed his coat from the corner and tied the belt tightly around your waist. 

Placing his hands on your cheeks and cradling your face his lips pressed and lingered against yours.

"They'll think, that must be what true love looks like and they’ll all be jealous."

Taking leisurely steps across the bridge the quiet of dawn was only broken by the water lapping beneath you. The absence of the locks amplified the little wakes and you tried to mentally record them as one of the many new memories you'd made tonight. 

Coffee in one hand and Taehyung's in the other. He pulled pieces of chocolatine from the bag tucked under his arm and fed them to you as you walked.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get over the fact you don't like coffee." You took a big sip. 

"It's strategic. If I had to hold a coffee and the pastry bag I wouldn't be able to hold your hand."

He stopped abruptly lightly jarring your arm. 

"Hey, Did you know that right here, this is the exact spot we first met."

His dark eyes reflected the lamplight just like they did as he looked at you that night.

"You were leaning over the rail," he pointed, "right here, waving to the passengers in the boats."

"Ughh, I was such a tourist." You laughed in retrospect. 

He took the coffee from your hand and set it on the base of the lamppost.

"Go pose for me, I want to take your picture so I can paint you from the night we met, I'll even add the locks back in."   

"It won't be the same." You sighed, "I'm covered in paint, my hair's a mess and all I have on is your trench coat."

"You're crazy if you think I don't remember everything about the way you looked. How that loose strand of hair fell," he tucked your hair behind your ear, "and still falls over your eye.  You had on that green sweater, I remember It was so soft against my fingertips when I reached out to hold your hand.” 

He kissed you and whispered, "Let me have that moment again." 

"You're such a hopeless romantic my love." You smiled fondly and obliged. Leaning over and looking down you re-enacted the opening scene of your meeting. 

After a few minutes of waving to an imaginary boat you turned giggling. "Did you get what you wanted?"

He was kneeling on the ground a few feet away looking pensive.

"Almost."

"Do you want me to do it again?"

His smile grew as his hand reached into his pocket and he held up what appeared to be a padlock. 

"No," He paused. "I want you and I to be locked together forever."

Turning back towards the rails you inspected them closely. "I don't think we can Tae, they pretty much made them lock proof." By the time you'd spun back to face him he was standing beside you. 

His large hand was wrapped around the lock with only little glimmers of metal peeking out.

"But this is a magic lock. I'm going to give you the key and you're going to have to make a decision, just like when we first met." He pressed the lock's pronged companion piece into your palm while simultaneously unfurling his fingers. 

"Marry me?"

Shocked floored, not even an ounce of intuition had told you this was coming. Hooked onto the shackle an enormous pear shaped diamond awaited your answer.

"Tae," your hand shook and tears blurred your vision as you moved to free the ring from it's restraint.

"Of course, Yes." Turning the key Taehyung pulled the lock apart and slid the diamond onto your finger.

Under the lamp, on the bridge in the middle of Paris it was like lightning had struck twice. You stood kissing the man who'd once again changed your life.

"But what are we going to do with the Lock?" The bridge was stark under the first rays of sunrise and heartbreakingly void of the promises it once guarded.

"So superstitious." He put the lock back in his pocket. "You're just going to have to hold on to that key until the time is right."

Fresh paint overwhelmed your senses. Guiding you with his large hands he steered you forward for what felt like forever.

"Is the blindfold necessary?"

"In order to surprise you, yes, yes it is."

He'd been working hard on his new exhibition and it had been kept tightly under wraps. One advantage of sleeping with the artist was the private advanced viewing from the curator himself.

"Are you ready?" he stilled you adjusting your angles. "Hold out your hand."

"Oh, it's an interactive piece?" you chided him. "I agree to do one painting and suddenly we're Marina and Ulay."

Placing something that felt like cool metal into your palm he slipped the blindfold off. 

Before your eyes stood a huge section of railing, thousands of padlocks adorning it. Behind the rail, a life size painting, a girl in a green sweater. Leaning forward she waved, looking happy, as her hair blew softly. Her eyes naïve, not knowing she was about to fall in love.

The words on the wall named the piece, "Locked"

"Tae," a tear fell in awe at his recreation. "You made me look beautiful."

"No mon petite, you make you look beautiful. Do you have your key?"

Lifting the chain from around your neck you held it up for him.

"Let's find our lock. It was closer to the top if I recall correctly."

"There's no way? This isn't a recreation? This is the real bridge?"

He laughed, "I know what it meant to you. They were selling pieces for charity. That's what I was really doing with Camille that day. She's a broker for the auction house."

The memory of your insecurities came back in a flash and your cheeks blushed pink at how foolish the notion of him straying seemed now.

"Here it is!" He crouched down holding it in his hand, your inked initials a little worn but still visible.

Slipping your key into the new lock you popped it open and knelt down beside him. Hooking it through the original it stood out higher than the rest and you both smiled.

"You're stuck with me now, triple locked." He fiddled with your ring suddenly shy.

"I don't need metaphors to know we'll be together forever Taehyung." You kissed his soft lips. "but I really like them."

The gallery had been taken over by a hum of excitement, the air hanging heavy, was full of compliments and bids. Everyone was clamoring for the chance to own a Kim Taehyung original.

You hadn't seen the man of the hour in a while. You'd been kept dutifully in one spot regaling everyone with the romantic story behind the girl waving on the bridge. 

Finally breaking away you grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest waiters tray and made your way to the back of the gallery. He stood by a painting you'd yet to see with an eclectic looking woman in large red framed glasses. Her bangle bracelets chimed together as she theatrically asked him questions about his work.

Noticing you moving towards him, his face pleaded silently with you to come to his social rescue.

"Ah, the girl in the Green Sweater!" She pulled you into her side grabbing and holding your hand. "Are you also The Reluctant Muse?" she pointed to the secretly cum splatterd piece.

Taehyung held back his smile, biting his lip.

"Yes, I guess I am."

"The abstract way he displayed your body, it's very sexy. You know I used to be someone's muse." She patted the back of your hand. "From the size of this ring I'm guessing you're not nearly as reluctant anymore."

Knocking back your champagne you reached for another, "I'm currently working on lowering my inhibitions."

Focusing back on Taehyung she continued, "I simply have to have this painting, it reminds me so much of my younger days."

He shook his head to reinforce what he was about to say. "Unfortunately this one has already been curated to a private collection." He winked nodding discreetly in your direction.

"Don't be silly, I'll give you $20,000."

You choked on your drink surprised while he reiterated his statement.

"I'm sorry, It's just a very special painting to me."

You had to interject, "Let's not make any hasty decisions."

Taehyung raised a scolding eyebrow, "The piece is simply priceless, I've put too much of myself in it to sell." 

You smirked at his secret admission. "What if," feeling emboldened with confidence you put forth the suggestion, "we make it a series?"

Taehyung's eyes lit up as you explained.

"It'll be one of a kind, just for you madam."

Her bangles declared her excitement as she clapped. "Yes, I love that! But I have two conditions."

Leaning forward you both eagerly waited.

“I want extra splatters, I really like the way they look. And I'm going to need it finished in time for my party next week.”

Taehyung shook the woman's hand and grinned proudly at you.

"No problem, we'll start working on it tonight."

[neurodihuegent]

[Weird Sisters AU] "in tenebris magicae: a story's beginning"

Words: 2,495

Chapters: 1/17

Characters: Lena Sabrewing, Webby Vanderquack, May Duck, June Duck, Violet Sabrewing, Black Heron

Summary: Following the tragic loss of her mother, Lena finds herself returning to the Magical Realm to piece together the truth behind the fall of her mother. However, the deeper Lena digs, the worse things become.

(Text Under 'Read More').

Do it for her.

Because she certainly didn't want to do it for herself: If it were up to her, she wouldn't even be here. But the stakes were high, and her next move relied on her being here.

If anything sucked the most, it was that she didn't have her own room anymore: Her roommate, a human named Violet Sabrewing, had woken her up at 5 A.M with the blaring sound of her alarm.

"I like to start early when I study throughout the day," she said.

Lena had managed to get some sleep after being rudely awakened, but not much: It was 7 A.M., and now she had to be awake.

Dragging her legs out of the bed, Lena sat up and stared out of the window for a good five seconds: Everything about this place felt like Earth, but it also didn't. The Sun still rised and shined the way it did on Earth. It was a bit comforting to Lena.

"Late start?" Lena took this as some kind of a joke, but considering what had happened merely two hours prior, she didn't find it any funny. She flashed a glare at Violet before trudging out of the room into the bathroom in the hallway.

Five months ago, Lena felt like she had everything, that the life she had on Earth made her not even want to come here and find out about her roots. Now, she had virtually nothing, and that predicament forced her to be here.

Lena's eyes became fixated on her feet as she neared the bathroom day, replaying the past five months of her life over and over again in her head. The day it happened, the feelings of panic and hopelessness that swallowed her body, how lifeless she looked. It was hard to forget, it was an image that would be burned into her brain for the rest of her life.

Caught up in her mind, Lena didn't notice that there was someone leaving the bathroom as she was walking to enter it. Her body collided with another girl's, sending them both to the ground.

"Hey, watch where you're-" The girl cut herself off once she got a better view of Lena on the ground, "Wait, you're one of the new girls right? Don't tell me you're that human."

Word seemed to spread fast around here.

"You're thinking of Violet," Lena half-smiled, extending a helping hand to the girl once she pulled herself off of the ground, "I'm Lena. Nice to-"

The girl swatted Lena's hand away, glaring at her as she found her composure and stood up on her own. "Either way, watch it." Before Lena could respond to that remark, May stormed off.

Rolling her eyes, Lena pushed the bathroom door open and began her morning routine for the day. Great, Lena thought to herself, I've been here for less than 5 minutes and I already have a target on my head.

--

Lena could feel the eyes burning the back of her head as she took her seat for her first class. From the looks of it, Violet didn't seem to mind to curious and judgmental stares, but Lena hated it. Part of Lena wanted to tell them to find something else to stare at, but another part of Lena just wanted to sit in silence to not make her already rough start, any rougher.

The teacher hadn't entered the class yet, but Lena was sure that they'd ask her and Violet to stand up and introduce themselves, so Lena spent the down time she had now mentally preparing for it. Lena wasn't really a nervous person, but these stares she was getting from classmates whose names she didn't know yet, were enough to melt her into a puddle of timdity.

"Hi, I'm Webby!" Lena hadn't even noticed that this girl had walked up to her, but the piercing shriek she let out was enough to make Lena jumped out of her skin. "Lena." Lena responded sheepishly, looking over Webby's shoulder to notice the girl from the bathroom was shooting daggers at either her, Webby, or the both of them.

They looked exactly alike, so Lena assumed they were sisters.

"You're from the Earth, right? Oh, I have so many questions! What is it like on Earth? What are the animals like? Ooh, what is the foo-"

"Webby, enough," The girl from the bathroom cut her off, and Lena was somewhat grateful for it even though she knew a condescending comment would be following this, "I doubt it's anything interesting compared to what we have here. You don't need to drown her with your questions."

"May, you're no fun." Webby pouted, crossing her arms. She turned back to Lena, saying "It was nice meeting you though!", before she scurried back to her seat next to May and... another girl that looked exactly like them. Triplets?

Her attention on them being triplets was shortened when she went back to thinking about how off putting this May girl had been acting towards her. It soured her mood a bit, thinking about how this girl, for whatever reason, had to make it known that she thought she was better than Lena.

"So you're the human." May seemed to turn her attention to Violet, who just silently nodded in response. Lena felt no connection to this Violet girl, not enough to just mindlessly defend her anyways, but she wasn't opposed to kicking May off of her high horse in defense of her.

"What brings you here?" The other sister, whose name Lena had yet to catch, asked seemingly with innocent intent, "Do you have any powers?"

"Um....no... at least not yet," Violet murmured, fiddling with her hair, "I was actually recruited through the school." Webby and this other sister gave Violet looks of approval, but Lena couldn't help but notice the scowl on May's face.

"Not yet? What do you mean not yet? Either you're born with it, or you're not." May snickered, gaining questioning looks from both of her sisters, not that she seemed to particularly care. Violet bowed her head in embarassment, and that's when Lena decided that she had finally had enough of this May girl's attitude.

"What's your issue? This pretentious little mean girl role you're trying to live up to right now, really isn't a good look, you know." Judging from May's reaction, Lena could tell that this girl never had anyone stand up to her before, and that was just pathetic.

"Well thank god I'm not trying to look good for the likes of you." May hissed, and before Lena could get another jab in, the entire classroom was silenced by the arrival of the teacher.

"Welcome to the first day of the new semester." The professor looked like a character straight out of the kinds of old movies Lena's mom used to watch, her hair having flipped ends, and her red dress resembling the style of a Go-Go dress. The professor's prothestic arm, which seemed to be made completely from metal, caught Lena's eye, but it wasn't something she paid too much attention to. Her eyes drifted over to the sister, the one that wasn't May and Webby, and noticed how her entire demeanor changed once this professor entered the room.

"It seems like we have two new students here, Violet Sabrewing, and Lena Duckwell. Nice to meet you two, I am Professor Heron." Lena could've sworn she saw a smirk when the professor had read her name, but she was too busy feeling shocked that she didn't make them stand up and introduce themselves.

Lena's mother always told her that if she were to come back here, if she were to start a new life here, she'd have to conceal her identity. "Duckwell" wasn't the most creative fake last name, but something told her she couldn't exactly waltz in here with the last name "DeSpell". She never knew why she needed to keep her identity a secret, but she wasn't exactly trying to figure out, either.

"Students, you know that I am expecting nothing but the best work from you this semester, especially knowing what's ahead. Now, open your books to page 14..."

--

Lena went to school on Earth, so she knew how dreadful and boring the school days could be, but this first day really drained her of any energy she had left. She had almost ran out of the classroom as soon as Professor Heron dismissed them, and she waited for nobody.

"Hey!" Lena felt a tap on her shoulder, turning around to reveal none other than the other sister whose name she hadn't caught yet.

"Hey."

"My name is June, nice to meet you!" She extended her hand for a handshake, and Lena took it. This June girl seemed much nicer compared to May.

"Nice to meet you," Now that she was here, maybe Lena could get some clarity of the things from class she was still confused about.

"What did the Professor mean when she said something important was ahead? Is it a test?"

"I guess you could say that," June explained, "But really, it's the total eclipse. You know what that is right?" Lena shot her a look that said 'I'm not dumb.' Was it that obvious that she hadn't been touching up on her magic?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just didn't know if it's ritual on Earth like it is here!"

"So what do you do for it?"

"On Earth, the Total Eclipse only happens every 100 years, but here, it actually happens every 10 years. During the Total Eclipse, all magical forms at their highest level of power. So, the ritual is kind of made to celebrate that, but also to show off that power. But it's not any time soon, actually it's exactly three months away."

Three months? There was no way Lena could master the power that she did, in three months. She didn't even know what she was fully capable of, because on Earth, both her and her mom stressed her living a normal "human" life, and not using any magic. And the rare times that she did use magic, ended up in haywire. Surely, three months was not enough time for Lena to perfect her craft.

"Hmm, sounds like fun...."

"I wouldn't know, this is the first time I've actually been old enough to attend and participate in one!" June flashed a bright, friendly smile, and in a way, it sort of put Lena at ease. After all, she was the first person here that Lena was able to maintain a normal conversation with.

"Oh, and sorry about my sister earlier, she can be a bit.... overbearing," June said, her cheery tone of voice shifting into a more serious one, "But if it makes you feel any better, I'd take it as a compliment. It means she sees you as a threat." Lena sent her a halfhearted smile in response.

"Oh, thank you. That's... great." The last thing Lena wanted, was some onesided rivalry with a girl she barely knew and barely cared to compete with, especially given said person had the advantage.

Lena and June had reached the end of the corridor, preparing to part ways with each other.

"Well, it was nice talking to you! I'll try to... talk my sister down from whatever pedal stool she's on right now, but I can't guarantee it'll work!"

"As long as you try."

Lena did like this June girl: She seemed to be the middle man of her sisters, the overly hyper Webby and the overly confident May, and Lena thought it was nice. She was definitely the kind of person Lena would be friends with back home, if Lena allowed herself to have friends back home.

But based on the 15 second interaction she had with Webby, she didn't have any negative feelings towards her either: She just had a lot of energy that Lena hadn't dealt with before, and Lena wasn't all to sure she was willing to deal with that energy level now.

Lena had finally made it to the door of her and Violet's dorm room, unlocking the door. Violet was nowhere in near sight, probably utilizing the last couple of hours the library was still open for.

"Well, at least I have some alone time, for now." Lena sighed, flopping onto her bed.

She allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts, reflecting both on the events of today and what happened five months ago. Maybe this total eclipse was exactly what would give her the answers she needed. But for five months, she began seeking answers, trying to piece together what happened and who could've possibly done it. It was caused by Magic, and to her recollection, besides a family residing in Finland, her and her mother were the only magical beings on Earth. But nothing was adding up, and it was starting to look like she would have to figure everything out with the help of someone else.

Lena remembered staying temporarily with the family in Finland after everything had happened: They were familiar with her mother, but knew next to nothing about her. But they offered her shelter, food, and some support whenever Lena wasn't pushing them away, and that felt good enough until it started to feel like time was closing in on her. Until what happened to her mom, would happen to her. So she, with the help of the family, devised a plan to return to the Magical realm during the beginning of the new school year, to get more practice with her magic, and to find the culprit. She didn't know what she was expecting, but she felt a weight of disappointment that she had been here for all of three days, and not even the slightest new discovery appeared.

Suddenly, she heard the door unlock, and knew that Violet was back from her study trip.

"Back so soon?"

"No, I'm actually going back. I just forgot a book."

Lena hummed in response, turning her attention to her phone. There wasn't anything eventful going on social media wise, but it was better than the awkward and forced conversations she and Violet had so far.

"Also... Thank you. For sticking up for me today."

"Don't mention it." Lena sent a grin in Violet's direction, waving goodbye as she left the room again to return to her studies. Maybe Violet was the kind of person she needed on this case: She had no magical powers, at least to both of their knowledge, but she did seem to know an awful lot about the magical realm, especially compared to Lena herself.

It had only been 3 days since she was here, but she was already feeling the weight of the stakes: Lena had to do to whatever it took to avenge her late mother, even if it meant facing the culprit head on.

[wreckofawriter]

Focus

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!reader

Warnings: Slight swearing, bullying

Word count: 4,728 (this is the longest one I've ever written)

Request: Hey do you think you could do a Draco imagine? I was thinking with a ravenclaw reader who’s actually shy and clumsy.

A/n: Sorry this came out later than I anticipated, its regents week for me and I was crushed by exams. I hope to have part one of my Draco series out over the weekend. Hope you guys like this ridiculously long one!

“Ms. y/l/n” You heard an all too familiar voice say.

“Yes Professor?” You asked turning around swiftly to face the raven haired teacher.

“What happened with your potion, it was a complete disaster?” The teacher asked.

You flushed, it was no secret you weren't exactly great at positions, you were too clumsy to measure anything out, you managed to cut your finger and you always messes up the order of ingredients.

“I'm so sorry professor i'm just not very good at positions. I have been studying I swear, it just..” Your voice trailed off. “I'm sorry professor.” You mumbled looking down.

“I want you prepared for the test next Wednesday, you should be able to manage that?” He asked eyebrows raised.

“Of course professor.” You mumbled still quite flush from the whole conversation. You turned to leave walking back towards your common room. About thirty seconds later you saw the last person you wanted to. Mckenzie Clarkson. She was a fellow housemate who unfortunately was extremely popular, pretty, nimble footed and of course, smart. She was basically everything you weren't, in your mind.

“God your pathetic.” The brunett girl laughed, her stunning green eyes narrowing. “You have lost, what was it? 30 points for us today.” The girls behind her giggled whispering things to each other. “You shouldnt even be in Ravenclaw. Your far to stupid. You cant even get into the common room without help, you trip over your own feet and you are practically failing all your classes.” She smirked clearly feeling very good about herself, as you willed yourself not to cry. You hated crying, so you just glared up at her anger rushing through you like a wave, but you kept it down, what could you possibly say to her?

“Can you just let me go?” You asked voice weak.

“I don't know can we?” The hallway erupted in laughter.

“Just let me leave.” You said voice a bit stronger now as your anger grew.

“Fine.” She smirked as she moved out of the way. You quickly began to walk through the group of girls, the embarrassment was suffocating.

Just as you were about to break free of the group, a girl stuck he leg out sending you sprawling to the ground. Your hands, full of books that scattered as you attempted to get your arms in front of you, it was a failure and you landed on your elbow directly followed by you face. You groaned in pain as you felt blood begin to seep from your nose.

“Oops.” The girl giggled before they all turned to leave laughing and joking.

You lay there for a few seconds squeezing your eyes shut, begging the tears to retreat. You eventually pushed yourself up so you were sitting. You were surrounded by books and papers, you had blood rushing down your face dripping onto you shirt and you had had enough. You simply pulled yourself to the side of the hallway drawing your knees to you cest and began to cry. You knew this wouldn't stop. You were far too shy to say anything and even if you weren't the girls were right anyway. Why were you in Ravenclaw when it took you a good twenty minutes just to figure out the password to your own common room?

Just then your heard voices. You quickly moved grabbing your books and sprinting out of the hallway before anyone could see you. You sprinted the whole way back to the tower. You were greeted by the raven statue you had grown to hate. You groaned loudly.

The statue spoke, “How is it possible for you to stand behind your father while he is standing behind you?” it asked, making you groan again.

“Can you please just let me in, im covered in blood.” You grumbled knowing that it wouldn’t answer. You tried to think. How can I stand behind something that is behind me? You racked your brain for an awnser but it seemed impossible. You couldnt help it you began to cry again. Frustration, embarrassment and sadness filled you as tears streaked you cheek. Why were you put in Ravenclaw? What could that stupid, good for nothing, hat possibly seen in you that made him shout “Ravenclaw” like a farmer yelling for his next sheep to slaughter.

You then heard footsteps beside you. You turned to see Cho Chang. She was in the year above you and was everything a Ravenclaw should have been, pretty, athletic, and of course wicked smart. You wanted to hate her for being so perfect but you couldn't.

“Hey,” She said softly, “I heard what Mckenzie did. That's messed up.” She attempted to sooth you.

“It doesn't matter.” You attempted to smile but it was more of a tight lipped grimace.

“She’s wrong you know.” Cho smiled.

You gave a half hearted laugh, “What could possibly make me a Ravenclaw?”

“So much y/n,” she said, “You are crazy good at Wizards Chess for one.”

“That’s just a stupid game.” You grumbled.

“No, it takes strategy and I've never seen a single person beat you.” She pointed out.

You blushed not used to getting praised.

“Also i've seen your artwork, its beautiful, absolutely stunning.” She smiled making you blush more.

“Thanks.” you mumbled.

“Look don't let one girl get you down.” She advised before asking the statute for the riddle. It answered and she stood there thinking for a second.

    “Oh!” she exclaimed, “Your standing back to back.”

    The statue spun open as you hit your forehead onto you stack of books making you stumble, barley catching yourself before you fell. You cursed yourself before ascending the stairs to your room. You had had enough humiliation for today.

    Draco rolled his eyes as Zambini told another terrible joke beside him, “What do you call a red head with no brains?’

    “I don't know, you with red hair?” Draco mocked.

    “Close but no.” the other boy snickered, “A weasley!” He erupted into laughter as they rounded the corner, heading to the common room.

    As they continued talking Draco felt something thump against his foot. He looked down to see a leather bound book which he had kicked a few feet in front of him. The platinum blonde raised his eyebrows before bending down to pick it up.

    “What the..” Balises voice trailed off.

    Draco looked up to see a small puddle of blood at the end of the quoridor.

    “Some idiot probably got hurt in potions or something.” Draco scoffed, though he was a bit confused. They continued walking being careful to avoid the blood. Draco's mind was quickly brought back to the book and he opened it to see what it was. What he saw stunned him.

    They were sketches. Not crappy sketches that was done by some kid, but damn good sketches. Most of them looked like they were for herbology. There were various plants with notes about them scribbled in messy handwriting in the margins, but every few pages there was something different. On the fifth page there was a drawing of a creature he didn't recognize. It was a black horse-like creature with big leathery looking wings. He wondered what it was. They had now arrived at the common room and Draco went directly to a couch sitting down on the black leather, continuing through the book. On the eleventh page there was a drawing of a broom stick. It was read Nimbus 2000 at the handel. There were various other sketches of random objects littered throughout the pages of plants and each was extremely realistic. His thoughts were interrupted by Daphne and Pansy.

    “Did you draw those Malfoy?” Daphne asked plucking the book out of his hand ignoring his protests.

    “No, could I have it back?” He asked glaring at the girl.

    Before she could respond Perkison interrupted, “Who’s is it Dracy?”

    “Don't call me Dracy” the boy groweld, “and I haven't the slightest idea.”

    “Oh, how did you get it?” Daphne asked.

    “I just found it, now give it back.” He stood up snatching the book up before retreating upstairs.

    “Who pissed in his cheerios?” Pansy grumbled plopping onto the couch.

    The next day you had herbology first period, you quite liked herbology you were good at it too. You loved how you could just sketch after you finished the drawing of the plants and of course you love your grade in the class. It made you feel less like a loser. Just a little less. When you plopped yourself into a seat next to a Ravenclaw boy named Casey. He was always very nice and often complimented you drawings. You would be lying if you said you didn't like him a little.

    After sitting down and greeting the boy you opened your bag to look for your sketchbook. It was nowhere to be found. What the heck? You thought as you searched through your bag with no luck. Then it struck you. You must have left it in the dungous yesterday. You cursed yourself quietly.

    “You okay?” Casey asked beside you.

    “Yeah I just lost my book,” You smiled at him blushing a bit.

    “Oh. I could help you look for it later if you want.” He offered.

    “O-oh I wouldn't want to bother you.” you blushed

    “It's no bother, I swear i want to help.” He smiled flashing a pearly set of straight teeth.

    “Ok, s-sounds good.” You stammered, you felt your face grow impossibly warmer.

    The lesson continues and you talked occasionally to Casey, you did your sketch on a piece of lined paper, you would transfer them when you found your notebook. After Herbologioy you and Casey headed down to the dungeons to look for your book. You had never really hung out with him out of class and it was nice. You were fighting a blush the whole time, you weren’t really one who interacted with attractive boys out of class.

    Draco began to make his way down to potions, he was still working through the drawings, there were many creatures he had never heard of before. It was odd, how had he never seen so many of these before? He was halfway through the dungeons when he heard giggling. It wasn't Pansy’s shriek, it was a soft quiet sound that made him think of the patter of rain on dewy grass. He turned the corner to see two figures in blue robes. One was a tall boy with dirty blond hair and deep brown eyes. Next to him was a y/h girl with y/h/l y/h/c hair that shone in the candle light. Her eyes were a stunning y/e/c that shared a soft yet sharp gaze with the world. He was taken aback. How had he never seen this girl before? They both looked at Draco expecting him to speak but he didn't, he simply kept walking brushing past the two, tucking the leather bound book back into his robes.

    As he walked away, he heard the boy mutter something to the girl, causing her to gasp and laugh,

    “Casey!” she scolded him

    “Oh come on y/n that was funny.” He teased back and Draco almost gasped in surprise. That was y/n? y/n y/l/n? No way. You were in his potions class and you never even spoke up, you were constantly messing up positions too. How was that girl the same one whose name he had grown deaf to Snape yelling? I didn't seem possible.

“Shot, I have to get to positions.” you told Casey glancing at your watch. He said goodbye as you walked quickly to your worst class. You were actually unusually excited, Luna one of your best friends had offered to help you out because you had the class together and she was quite good at potions. You entered the classroom quickly and found Lun, sitting next to the girl. As you waited for class to start you chatted about the different potions and what might be on the test.

“Wait for the dragons egg you have to turn it to powder first right?” you asked to see your friends gaze elss where.

“Dracos staring at you.” She said simply as if she hadn't just said an impossible sentence.

“What?” you asked turning around to meet a pair of silver eyes already on you. They quickly dodged away making you blush tremendously. “I saw him in the hallway eairler, and Casey made a stupid joke about him, hes probally plotting my death.” You sighed reality crashing on to you.

    “I don't think so.” Luna said in her usual dreamy tone.

    “What else would he be doing?” You murmured returning to your notes.

    Before Luna could answer Snape entered the room and you snapped your eyes to the front of the class.

    “It has come to my attention that many of you are getting nothing done in this class.” He stated harshly. You cringed this was not going to end well. “And because of that fact I have made a new seating chart,” You groaned, just when you were getting excited about positions.

    “Listen for your name and your partner,” He continued. “Parkinson, Belby. Goldstein, Crabbe. Greengrass, Lovegood.” You glanced at your friend who was as usual, smiling. You are happy for her as well, there were much worse partners to be had. “Corner, Zambini. Boot, Blustrode. Y/l/n, Malfoy.” The rest of the names went out of the window when you heard your partner. This was not going to be good, not good at all.

    When Draco heard your name called, then quickly followed by his he felt like he was going to throw up. And it wasn't because he knew you were probably going to botch whatever potion they made, it was because he wasn't sure if he could focus around you. He blushed madly and tried to think about something else. It's just a pretty girl you bloody idiot. He scolded himself. You just met her today, he reminded himself Well just realized she existed today. He was shaken out of his thoughts by Snape's voice.

“If you don't like your partner, too bad. Move together please.” Draco glanced over at y/n who was already packing up, Zambini moved from his seat apologizing to Draco for his partner and moved toward the back where Micheal was seated.

    He then saw you make your way over to him your cheeks a bit red, the same way they were when you were talking to that Casey boy in the hallway. He grimaced, how was he jealous of someone he had never spoken a word to? He then decided he would ignore every good quality you had and focus on the bad ones. That way it would be easier to pretend to hate you right?

    The second you sat down his plan failed. You smelt like vanilla and roses. He wanted to lean closer to you and inhale your addicting scent forever, but instead he moved over or so he couldn't breathe in your intoxicating fumes.  

    “Hi, i’m y/n.” You said sweetly sticking your hand out.

    “I know who you are.” Draco responded ignoring your hand and continuing to stare at the board, slouching in his seat.

    “Oh ok.” You murmured. He saw a small frown take over your soft pink lips and he felt angry for being its cause.

    Snape explained that you were to make a Confusing Concoction potion and told you you had till the end of class. The potion wasn't too complicated. You thought you might be able to get through this one.

    “I'll get the water you can work on the feathers.” Draco drawled trying not to get to close to you as he stood. You pretend not to notice.

    “Ok.” you nodded. You grabbed the feathers and began to separate the barbs from them. Not but two feathers in you yelped with pain as a barb pierced your thumb. You yanked it out hissing in pain as you saw blood drips from the wound. Draco who was now back and heating the water grimaced at the sound of your pain but refused to show that he cared.

    He sighed loudly, “Look you go clean up and I will finish the feathers.”

    “Thank you.” you whimpered walking towards a sink face red as the blood dripping from your hand.

    Draco let out a breath he didn't know he was holding after you walked past. He then sat down and began to work on the feathers. His fingers moved easily to separate the barbs from the stalk and he couldn't help but wonder how you had possible stuck yourself with one so quickly. He then heard a thump and an apology and looked up to see you stumbling back to your seat face a brilliant red as Millicent and Boot glared after you. He snickered a bit turning back to the feathers.

    Once you had most of the ingredients in you had to wait for 30 minutes for it to boil so Draco sat down and pulled out the book of drawings he had found.

    He was flipping through the pages again when he heard a gasp beside him. He looked up eyebrows raised.

    “Where did you find that?” You asked pointing at the book.

    “In the hallway.” He smirked, “Why do you care anyway?”

    “Because it's mine.” You whispered causing his cheeks to flush.

    “This is yours?” He asked surprise sewn into his voice.

    “Yes.” you nodded, “I lost it when..” your voice trailed off face growing red, “after potions.” you finished voice quiet.

    “You sure this is yours?” It came out harsher than Draco had intended but what could he do about it now?

    “Yes.” you breathed out face growing warmer. “It does have drawings in it, doesn't it?”

    “Well yeah but they are like, really good.” Only after he said it did he realise how it sounded. He instantly was filled with guilt as your face flashed with sadness and anger.

    “Yeah, well, they’re mine.” You grumbled voice quiet.

    “Here.” He handed the book to you, your hands brushed before you snatched the book away and he felt like he was going to burst at the feeling of your skin against his.

    Just then the timer on your position went off and the two of you continued to work.

    That's how it went for two weeks. You and Draco would share very few words as you worked together. Your grade did improve, but you were still quite prone to accidents and Draco rolled his eyes everytime. You went from being sad he didn't like you to being mad. He was always so rude. He would avoid speaking to you, looking at you, hell he avoided you altogether, his seat was always poised at the other end of the desk as if you were some sort of plague. All of this made you angry and frustrated. What have you done to make you so repulsive? You knew you weren't the best at potions but you had only messes up three the whole time and you were improving. You had never been rude to the boy even once, how come he hated you so much?

    “I just don't get it.” You pouted turning to Casey who was walking you down to potions.

    “It's not your fault y/n, he's like that with everyone.��� He explained, “He's just a dick, not much you can do about it.”

    “But maybe if I was better at potions the-” you were interrupted by Casey.

    “Y/n its not your fault, you are amazing and sweet and kind, it's just him okay? Don't let him make you doubt yourself.”

    You blushed furiously at his words, “Thanks Case.”

    “Plus if he's really pissing you off just blow a potion up in his face.” he jeered.

    You laughed loudly, “He'd probably kill me with his icy glare.” you teased.

    “He is always glaring at you.” Casey smiled.

    “Thanks for walking me.” You said.

    “Of course, i’ll see you around y/n.” He beamed.

    “See ya.” You said before entering the classroom. You were met with Draco's frozen glare.

    “Hello Malfoy.” You greeted.

    “Y/l/n” he responded his voice vacant of any emotion.

    You sat down and glanced at the board to see what position you were working on. You then looked at Draco who was already looking at you making you blush.

    “I'll get the water.” You said promptly before standing up and snatching a cauldron. Only when you did this you left foot got caught behind your right and you plummeted to the ground. You dropped the cauldron with a clang and you hit the ground. You instantly heard laughter erupted throughout the room and you felt tears well up in your eyes. You then heard a snicker and you didn't have to see his face to know it was Draco. You blinked furiously face a deep shade of crimson. You then pushed yourself off the ground, lifted the cauldron from a few feet away and turned to face the slytherin boy. Your shyness suddenly disappearing in your rage and embarrassment when you saw the everlasting smirk perched on his lips. You felt two tears cascade down your red cheeks as you thrust the cauldron into his hands.

“Screw you Malfoy.” your voice trembled through gritted teeth. You then quickly left the classroom, laughter disappearing behind you. You made it maybe two cordors from the classroom when you saw Mckenzie. You instantly turned to run but were cut off by a few other girls already behind you.

“God y/n, such a clutz.” She snickered. “I think you belong in a physical therapy building not a wizarding school.”

You only whimpered feeling helpless and small.

“Boo-hoo poor, poor, y/n all alone.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists.”You do realize that Casey only hangs out with you because of a dare right?”

Your eyes widened in confusion.

“I made a dare that he couldn't get you to go out with him in a month and here we are, only two weeks in and you are practically drooling over him.”

You felt a sob leave your mouth. You wanted to say it wasn’t true but you knew it was. It sure as hell wasn’t a coincidence he asked to help you find your book the exact day she said she struck the deal with him. You felt angry. Sad. But most of all embarassed. You were always so embarrassed. Why where you always so fucking embarassed?!

“Guess I'll have to go out with him now that I told you about the bet” She smirked picking at her long blue nails.

“Of course.” You muttered tears falling of your chin.

“What's that?” Mckenzie smirked.

“Of course he would want to go out with you.” You began to sob and you saw Mckenzie’s smirk widen and your anger out did you.

“Of course, some douchebag like him would want to date a slutty bitch like you.” Anger dripped like poison from your voice. All of the laughter around you stopped as you felt yourself smile. You looked up through your tears to see Mkenzies mouth wide open in shock, her eyes wide in her sockets.

Anger took over her features and she pulled her wand from her robes with a shriek. “Stupify!” she shouted and you were sent sprawling backward. Your head hit the stone wall and black dots danced in your vision. You groaned closing your eyes but they popped back open when you heard another voice.

“Back off!” it yelled anger knit into its frame. You turned to see Draco heading strait at the girls. He whipped his wand once and suddenly Meckenzi flew into the air. She then dangled there like an invisible rope was tied to her ankle.

She shrieked for the girls below her to help but they just turned and ran fearful of the boy heading toward them. After the other girls disappeared Draco flicked his wand again and Mckenzie fell to the ground and began to cry.

“Get out of here before I do more than hex you.” You heard him growl.

The girl instantly stood up sobbing as she stumbled away. Draco's eyes softened when they landed on you.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he rushed over to you.

“What do you care Malfoy?” you mumbled attempting to get up only to stumble over your own feet and plummet to the ground, well you would have hit the ground if it wasn't for a pair of strong arms wrapping around you. You looked up at the blonde, his grey eyes were set on your lips and felt your heartbeat speed up to extremely high. Draco's face was now quite red as he helped you back to your feet.

“Why do you hate me?” the question rose from your lips before you could stop it. You flushed immediately after it left your mouth. Draco looked taken aback by the question.

“I don't hate you.” he stated.

“Don't lie to me. You avoid looking at me, you don't speak to me, hell you sit as far away from me as possible.” You paused looking at the boy, “I just want to know why.”

He laughed he actually laughed. What could possibly be funny right now? Was this all another joke? Did he really find your misery that funny. You flushed madly turning to leave.

“No wait love, don't leave.” Draco begged his laughter stopping abruptly.

You felt heat rush to your face at the nickname and turned around looking at the ground. Your gaze was turned upward when you felt a finger slowly lift your face upward. You had never blushed so much in your entire life.

“I don't hate you y/n. I would never hate you.” He smiled, not his usual smirk but a genuine smile and it made you go weak at the knees. “I don't think I could ever hate you.”

“Then why do you act like you do?” you asked, “Why do you avoid me? Why do you never talk to me, never look at me?”

He sighed, “I avoid you because whenever I get near you, I smell you. And it drives me crazy.” His hand caressed your cheek bone and you were pretty sure you face was on fire. “Your scent is beyond intoxicating. When I talk to you I lose track of everything else and I can only hear your voice echoing in my head.” He whispered, his minty breath danced across your face making you shudder. “And when I look at you, it's like the world disappears and it's only you standing there. Everytime I look at you I have to battle myself not to lean in and taste your lips.”

You stared at him. You couldn't breath, your It had been replaced with butterflies that were now fluting inside you madly. You were pretty sure this is what death felt like. But then something clicked inside you and your realized this wasn't death it was love.

“When it comes to you, I can focus on nothing else.” Dracos lips were so close you could feel them brush yours and you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed the back of his head and smashed his lips onto yours.

You had never felt anything like it before, his lips danced on yours with grace you couldn't even begin to fathom. You felt his tongue slid across your lips and your eyes widened in surprise. You then shut them again opening your mouth a slight bit. You ran your hand threw his hair as he explored your mouth with his tongue pushing you up against the wall softly. You didn't want to break the kiss but you felt your lungs burn begging for air and you drew away from him.

You were both panting when you pulled apart. Your face was a bright red, your lips swollen, and hair disheveled but to Draco, you had never looked more beautiful.

“Merlin,” he gasped out, “I'm never going to focus again when I know you kiss like that.”

You flashed a brilliant red and giggled, Draco then decided he couldn't stop himself anymore, he pressed his lips against yours once again.

[mochikeiji]

[Take it Slow.]

↠ Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

↠ Warning: cursing, blood, angst, slight fluff, Mafia AU! Monster Bokuto!

⇢ Songfic! Twenty One Pilots: Heathens

✎﹏

(Welcome to the room of people

Who have rooms of people that they loved one day

Docked away

Just because we check the guns at the door

Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades)

He remembers like it just happened yesterday. The only people who had shown him love— his parents. Huge men tearing his arms away from his mother's warm embrace, he remembers her screaming, his father demanding to release them, that the child meant no harm. That he was innocent.

"You would say that because you were the source of this Demon Child."

He can recall the way his heart cracked. After having to be called that, watching with empty eyes as a puddle of crimson like liquid flow on his feet. He no longer hears the screams of his parents.

"Mom? Dad?"

He hears a gun click, the men in their green uniforms yelling orders, staying a good distance away from him. When he hears no reply from his parents, something inside him snapped. They were the last people to hold his entire sanity together. Without an anchor to stop a ship from fall, it'll be like a speed of light before you'll see the action happening.

Those events caused chaos throughout Japan. And he was only 10 years old at that time.

"Demon Child, escapes, killing almost 30 of our fine men who came to put him in custody."

Always on the run, never finding a place to stay. A place to call home. No one was siding with him because of the way he looked. No one listened as he defended himself, telling his side of the story.

"I heard, he killed his parents too."

"He's said to be like a one man army. "

Laughing at society. How stupid must people be to always believe in the media's. How stupid of them to pray to God that he won't come, and do the same to their families. He never believed in anything. There was nothing to believe in a world filled with savages. There was no God controlling their lives, it was them, acting all religious and innocent. He was disgusted. He wanted to make them see reality.

Some think he was just a legend. Some knows he's lurking in the shadows in Tokyo. People using his title to scare little kids. Only his title was known, but never his name. His looks poorly described, instead they made up something that was close to make people believe.

"He had owl like hair and eyes, he was big— his body is some kind of ware human! He had sharp teeth, blood over his clothing. The Demon Child is on the lose, still growing everyday, please, if you have found anyone looking suspicious or matches the following details, immediately contact the nearest station."

He was all over the news. Soon he was about to go worldwide for exposing himself a lot. A man's gotta do what he has to do to survive right?

Everyone feared for their lives. Thinking they're all so saint, innocent, worthy enough to live. It made him puke in disgust.

Still you find yourself getting drunk of love because of this dangerous person.

(You're loving on the psychopath sitting next to you

You're loving on the murderer sitting next to you

You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?"

But after all I've said, please don't forget)

How did you find yourself in a tight situation in the first place? Just a week ago you were just taking a train ride on the way home after school, it was already dark outside. If you haven't had a review study you would've been home already.

You would've never have to encounter him.

Like fate, you were being mugged, harassed. Long story short, you found yourself with ripped clothes, cowering in fear, then he swoons in. You can still hear the gun shots fresh in your head. The sound of bones cracking with shrill shrieks from the men in pain. Hearing a body came contact on the ground. You were afraid to meet your saviors eyes, having to experience this in first hand. Bokuto thought you were just some kind of harlot in the streets, but taking in a closer look. You were just a university student. An innocent one if he had to describe. He could hear your whimpers, see your body shaking.

He had one vow in his life after that faithful day, "Protect the weak, the innocent. Eliminate the threats." he never knew there would be people like you in this part of the world.

You remember his soft, big hands taking your smaller ones, he was gentle. He was far from what people had describe of him. But you never really believed in the Demon Child. You didn't even know you were holding hands with him. And that he saved you instead of killing you also. You were so shaken up by that day, he escorted you back to your apartment. Ever since Tokyo was in chaos, many people fled the city. Not much people in your apartment, but a lot of thugs down your blocks. He was about to leave you, disappear once again in the shadows, but you grabbed his hand, he was shocked. It was so gentle than what he has experienced before. You offered him to stay as a token of your gratitude. But you didn't know you were the ones who was staying with him forever.

You wanted to ask him where he came from. Where he was staying. You wanted to know his name, you wanted atleast some kind of background from him. But all he said were these simple words.

"Take it slow, darling. You don't know the half of the abuse."

and that's where your life started.

(We don't deal with outsiders very well

They say newcomers have a certain smell

You have trust issues, not to mention

They say they can smell your intentions)

After filing a report on murder of the men who had previously caused a scene. You were no longer safe in your apartment. Bokuto was no longer safe. You can hear loud footsteps coming from downstairs, the few people evacuating the building. All doors being kicked down, and inspected the rooms. You were the last room from the top of the building. Bokuto was calm, but inside him he doesn't want to leave without you. If he did, what would happen to you? Would those savages kill you for protecting him? No they weren't. He opens your window wide, looking at the next building just a few centimeters to jump on. Your heart was pounding, the footsteps were nearing. You felt nauseous, Bokuto grabs your jacket, and puts it on you, covering you with a hood and mask.

"Jump, I'll follow behind you."

You looked at him as if he was crazy. But you saw his dark eyes, his body in protective stance. He looked like a wolf shielding his mate. Your lips quivered, grabbing some of your belongings in a backpack, you gulped at the distance between your window and the building. Flinching as you hear the neighboring room doors burst open, you closed your eyes for a short moment, holding your breath and took a big leap on the building. Being resourceful, you used your bag as a soft cushion for impact. Grumbling to get up, your eyes scanning the opened window, waiting for Bokuto to join you.

Back in the room Bokuto was impressed at your action. When the locked door was being knocked on hard, he pushed all the furniture against it before jumping out, expertly landing on his feet in front of you. He grabs your arms, carrying you in a princess style, and started running.

"Just close your eyes if you don't want to see what's going to happen."

But you didn't, each sound of the gun shots, sirens the smell of gun powder, blood, smoke, everything you took in on that day as if you were reborn.

"You bought home another one, Bokuto san?"

You stood frozen in your spot. Bokuto had ran a long way, but being fazed by the sirens and gun shots, you didn't realize you were in some kind of dark building with a bunch of guys that look way more dangerous than thugs.

"She's different."

He pulls your hoodie off carefully, letting you hair fall down to your face. But you kept your mask on, remembering his words when he was running,

"Be careful with my crew. They're all quite wary with new comers, darling. We have....trust issues."

You gulped when Bokuto left your side, you hugged yourself as the boys began to huddle over you, eyes looking like they could kill you on the spot. The one who spoke earlier kept a good distance, but his eyes were cold as ice as they bore into you.

"Leave her. She's clean."

They all followed. Was he some kind of leader? Just what we're you getting yourself into?

(You're loving on the freakshow sitting next to you

You'll have some weird people sitting next to you

You'll think "How did I get here, sitting next to you?"

But after all I've said, please don't forget)

Everyone sat on the floor, having a short meeting with Bokuto. You on the other hand, just stayed seated on the corner, shying away from the men who seem to deem you as a threat.

"Hey, (Y/n), come here."

You hear his fingers snap, with shaking legs you slowly made your approach, he pats a spot next to him, gingerly taking a seat beside him. He spoke in a low tone voice.

"Do you know who we are?"

You shake your head, "N-no."

"Do you want to know who we are?"

You didn't move an inch when his hand came forward, brushing against your cheek for a short while, before pulling down your mask.

"You look much better like that, darling."

One second you were scared. Now you were flustered. Snapping out of the feelings, you let a weak, "yes". Wanting to know their identities, their background. Why they were all running away from the police. It took almost several hours of listening to everyone's stories, and names. Almost crying at everyone's stories, especially Bokuto's. You were understanding the deeper meaning on how life was so cruel. You learned that the man earlier was named, Akaashi Keiji. Bokuto's first encounter with— people fear how intelligent he was. He was abused so much by his family for admiring the Demon Child. Taking defense on saying maybe he used to be innocent, and people mistaken him for his actions. He was Bokuto's most dearest and first friend.

"S-so, your name is Bokuto Koutarou?"

"Feels nice to hear it from you, darling."

"Hey, (Y/n). Be sure not betray us, or else."

The guy, Konoha, you presumed threatens. You almost hid yourself behind Bokuto by grabbing his arm in instinct, "Now, now, Konoha. You're scaring the little lady." Another guy, Washio if you have that correct came to defend you. The rest bickered on about you being a threat, and how someone as weak, and defenseless like you against them could get away. You feel Bokuto's hand grip your shoulder firmly, his hot breath against your ear as he murmurs out a familiar set of words.

"Take it slow, darling. You don't know the half of the abuse."

(All my friends are heathens, take it slow

Wait for them to ask you who you know

Please don't make any sudden moves

You don't know the half of the abuse)

It had almost been 2 months since you've gotten used to the gangs presence, and them with yours. You became like the mother of the group, and yet still the child of the group. You've gotten use to see them make deals with other men in Tokyo to earn money, weapons, seen them kill in front of your eyes whenever things get heated. Akaashi would be first to pull you away from the sight of Bokuto snapping someone's neck, or slowly torturing them to death.

You weren't completely used to see Bokuto kill people. Knowing it was for your safety, you wish you could a day without having to hear muffled screams, and pleadings from both men and women.

"Hey (Y/n), why don't you come here and sit with us." Washio calls out, flicking his cigarette on the floor, crushing it on his feet. "Eat, (Y/n), you're the only one who eats less here. It's unfair of us to be selfish." Akaashi offers you a plate filled with food. After having 2 months to stay with them, and staying silently at your place, you had gotten thin from the lack of nutrients. You ate slowly, not wanting to look improper in front of a group of men.

"Um...thank you!" You bowed all of a sudden.

They had their eyes widened, they thought you were going to scream for help like most people, but instead they heard a thank you.

"For what?"

"F-for taking me in! And, for the meal with you guys for the first time!"

Everyone looked at eachother before chuckling. Bokuto stood up from his chair, removing the black gloves on his hands before patting your head.

"Now do you trust her?"

You looked behind, listening to his words.

"Fine, fine. She's innocent, Bokuto."

"See! I told you she was innocent from the moment I saw her." hitching your breath, you admired his wide smile. It seemed so genuine despite everything that was going on.

"Don't worry no too much, (Y/n)! You're part of the gang."

He kneels down next to you, fingers down your chin and gently pulling them to meet his eyes.

"And I will protect you."

He doesn't know when, why. But he knows deep inside, he was allowing himself to fall inlove.

And it was dangerous.

(Why'd you come? You knew you should have stayed)

The building was surrounded.

They should've known they were going to spotted if they stayed long. The team was packing up all weapons and sources they could carry. You stayed hidden on the behind some of the boxes as they opened the doors to be met by almost an army of men with guns.

"Freeze!"

You hear the commander yell, all of the team hidden and scattered on many places, as Bokuto was kneeled onto the ground.

As bait.

The police force were closing in, as they were, everyone inside the building started firing guns, Bokuto running off as he throws in a flash bomb. Blinding many, easily shooting all down in ease.

(I tried to warn you just to stay away)

Things had gotten out of hand when one soldier threw in a bomb. Setting the building on fire. Akaashi held your hand, running alongside with the team to somewhere safe.

"W-wait, where's Bokuto?"

Everyone stayed silent. Akaashi just grips onto you tighter, but he underestimated you. You kicked him on the groin, his hand releasing your arm as you ran away from them before they had the chance to catch up.

You were nearing at the sounds of gun shots, you spot Bokuto hidden on a left over concrete, face smeared with blood, and smoke.

"Bokuto!"

You ran next to him, kneeling behind the concrete wall.

"(Y/n) what the fuck, I said get out of here!"

"Like hell will I leave you!"

(And now they're outside ready to bust)

He was taken back at your outburst and strong willed personality, startled by a bullet almost hitting his head, shooting the man down instantly. You looked behind the wall, instructing Bokuto where to shoot. Since your were small, you weren't easily spotted.

Shooting the last man down. Bokuto sighs. He was out of bullets. You gasped out a breath you were holding in, only to have your eyes shrink back.

There was someone behind him.

As if in slow motion, you pushed Bokuto back. Taking in his position, pulling out a gun that was secretly tucked in your pants and hoodie.

Firing quicker before the man could have a chance.

Bokuto was in awestruck. Who knew you had it in you all the time. Panting at the rush of adrenaline, Bokuto gets up from his spot and pulls you in his arms, crashing his lips almost roughly. Getting addicted to the way on how perfectly and delicious they felt on his, he bites on your lower lip harshly, dominating you with his height.

From the innocent, and scared girl you were, now looking like a hot badass in his eyes.

He had learned that you were more than capable as much as he was.

And he now knew that falling inlove with you was never dangerous, but exciting as it adds thrill in his life.

And finally, someone who actually listened to the others side, and learned to love them.

(It looks like you might be one of us)

The two of you walked hand in hand. Stopping abruptly in front of the man you had just shot. His eyes skim your body, and then your face weekly. You looked so innocent. Tainted by evil.

"W-what have you done to her?"

He weakly utters out, only to be stepped on the head by Bokuto. Who was annoyed. How dare he blame him for making you like this. You places a hand on his chest, telling him to take his feet of the fallen man.

Kneeling down in front of you, just lowered your lips next to his ear, murmuring something. You hear him let out a scream, before it was cut off by head shot deep in his skull. Bokuto licks his lips at the sight of you getting up slowly, gun on your hand as you blew off the smoke.

"Take it slow, dear. You don't know the half of the abuse."

[citrinekay]

I've had a prompt rolling around in my brain the past couple of days, I keep thinking of Holden's car breaking down in the rain, and he has to make his way to a payphone, and he calls Bill, because he doesn't know who else to call. I keep thinking about Bill being worried he'll get sick because he's soaking wet. Sorry if this is disjointed sending asks gives me anxiety >>

Nothing to worry about at all, hon. This makes perfect sense to me! Here you go, hope you enjoy 💕

Holden’s father had instilled a healthy respect for car maintenance in him from a young age, and he considers himself a responsible person when it comes to his possessions; but some things just can’t be foreseen. There were no warning signs, no little lights popping up on his dash to tell him that something was wrong, but still, as his car sputters out on the side of the road, he figures this is somehow his fault. 

It’s late evening on a Friday, the ragged conclusion of a long week out of state on consult. It’s no more than a thirty minute drive between the airport and his apartment, but his little Nova, which up until this very moment had been trustworthy and faithful, couldn’t make it that far. On top of everything else, it’s raining. Not a mist or a drizzle, but a deluge that rolls from the rumbling sky in unrelenting gusts that don’t appear to be stopping anytime soon.

 As the engine clicks and dies on the gravel shoulder of the road, Holden leans his forehead against the steering wheel to brace back a wave of tearful dismay. Not only does he usually leave car repair up to knowledgeable professionals, but he’d also been looking forward to crawling into his own bed after an arduous week spent tracking down a pedophile and murderer. 

A rift of anger rises up from his sudden despair, and he leans back to strike the wheel with the heel of his hand. 

“Fuck!” The curse chokes from his throat, punctuating the steady drum of rain against the metal exterior of the car. 

He breathes heavily into the silence for a long moment until the initial rush of panic and alarm fades. He tries to think clearly about his options. He should call someone. But who? It’s much too late for shops to be open, and he doesn’t want to call the police department and create a scene. He could call a cab, but that might take awhile. And before he can pursue any of those options, he has to find a phone to even call from first.

Holden rubs his tired eyes, and scans the street. 

He knows where he is. Just think … Payphone. The corner of Mission Street and Jackson Road. Two blocks away. 

“Fuck.” Holden says, aloud, again. 

He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t want to walk two blocks in the pouring down rain; but what other choice does he have?

Gathering his collar up around his neck, Holden draws in a deep breath, and shoulders his way out of the vehicle. The rain is coming down so hard that he’s almost instantly soaked, his hair drenched and plastered to his head, his trench coat barely concealing his shivering body from the biting gust of cold wind and stinging droplets. 

For a moment, he thinks about climbing back into his car and waiting it out, but he doesn’t want to face the possibility of the rainstorm persisting through the night. Putting his head down, he trudges away from his car in the direction of Jackson Road. 

The shoulder of the street is washed out in the rain, creating a treacherous obstacle course of sliding gravel, loosened rocks, miry sludge, and muddy puddles, two of which he manages to step directly into. It’s difficult to see with his eyes squinting shut against the driving rain and the scarce streetlamps lining this particular strip of deserted asphalt. 

If his car had broken down just two blocks later, he would have been in a much better position. There’s a tavern and gas station at the intersection along with the payphone, some sign of civilization that this forested stretch of road where he’s abandoned is absent of. 

Holden clenches his jaw and drags his coat more tightly around himself as a fresh clench of frustration seizes his chest. Part of him wants to sit down on the side of the road just to rest his trembling legs, but he pushes on, determined to get to the payphone in as little time as possible. 

Eventually, he approaches Jackson Road, a darkened street of shops with only the neon blow of the tavern sign smudged against the black sky in rain-drizzled reds and greens to light the way. Across the street, the gas station with two sad pumps is illuminated by a few overhead lights that attract more insects than people at this time of night. The phone booth stands like a beacon at the corner of the intersection, interior lit by a single, bare bulb. 

Holden rushes to the payphone, relief washing through his chest. The sliding door protests on rusty, jammed hinges as he grabs the handle, and it takes a few forceful pulls to get it open far enough for him to slip inside. 

The steady, cold patter of rain on his cheeks cuts off abruptly as he stumbles into the glass enclosure. Bracing a hand against one wall, he draws in a shuddering breath and tries to subdue the bone-deep, chilled shiver running through his body. 

His relief lasts bare seconds. Now what?

Turning to the pay phone, Holden tucks his hand in his pocket to search for coins. As he sorts out the quarters, he bites anxiously at his lower lip. The booth has no telephone book, and he doesn’t know any numbers for a cab off the top of his head. Nervously jostling the quarters in his hand, he glances down at his watch. 

10:35. Christ, it’s late. 

Holden presses his eyes shut as a solution rises in the back of his mind. He can feel rain dripping from his hair and sluicing down his cheeks, absorbing through his clothes to chill his skin. His belly shudders from deep inside and his feet hurt, cold and miserable from the long walk in the storm. He’s stranded, and he doesn’t have any other choice. 

Shoving aside his nerves, Holden feeds the quarters into the narrow slot and listens to them fall to the bottom with a metallic clatter. He picks up the phone, and slowly dials the number he knows by heart. 

As he listens to the shrill ring of the phone, he feels a sudden wave of emotion crawl up the back of his throat. He’s thinking rapidly and all at once: Please pick up. Please don’t be mad. Please help me. And finally: Well, this is just fucking pathetic, isn’t it? 

The phone rings six times, and he thinks about hanging up. He could call the operator and get a cab service. He could call the police and they would be more than happy to send someone out - it’s their job after all. His anxiety is about to overwhelm him when the repetitive tone cuts off, and the line rustles with movement.

“Hello?” Bill’s voice is muted and raspy with confusion. 

“Bill.” Holden says, pressing his eyes shut. His cheeks flush with heat that competes with the chill of the rain. 

“Holden?” Bill’s sleepy confusion quickly breaks out into concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry it’s late. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What’s going on?”

“I, um … I just got back into town, and my car broke down, if you can believe it.” Holden says, a nervous chuckle rising from the back of his throat. 

“Oh, man, talk about shit luck. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. I just …”

“Where are you?”  

“Well, my car broke down back on Ellis, but I’m at the payphone at Mission and Jackson.”

“Shit, it’s raining cats and dogs. I hope you didn’t walk all that way.”

“How else would I have gotten here?”

“Jesus, you must be freezing.” Bill says, his tone taking on a note of worry. “Stay inside. I’m on my way.”

“Thanks. And I’m really sorry about this. I know it’s late and it’s an inconvenience and-”

“Don’t worry about it. Now the sooner we get off here the sooner I can come pick you up.”

“Right.”

“Okay, stay put. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Thanks, Bill.”

“Yep.” Bill says, quickly, before hanging up. 

Holden puts the phone down, and leans back against the cold glass partition. Relief surges through his chest at the prospect of not having to walk one more foot in the rain, but despite Bill’s eagerness to help, he’s still anxious. Ever since Atlanta, they’ve been walking around on egg-shells with each other. Holden doesn’t want to intrude on Bill’s privacy as he goes through his divorce, and Bill seems too focused on his own problems and work to regard Holden’s tenuous grasp on his panic disorder. He’d never wanted to be a nuisance or create problems he couldn’t solve on his own. He’d never wanted to be babysat, or for anyone to think he needed supervision - but apparently he had; and now he’s facilitating yet another situation that Bill is required to pull him out of. He wants to pick the phone back up and call just to say “You’re not mad about this, are you?” But Bill has probably already left the house. 

Drenched and shivering, Holden cowers in the phone booth for the next fifteen minutes until he sees Bill’s car through the smudged pane of glass. 

Bill pulls up at the curb, and climbs out of the car. Rain dampens his hair and the shoulders of his trench coat as he pulls a blanket out of the passenger’s seat and carries it across the sidewalk to where Holden is slipping out of the booth. 

“Thanks for coming.” Holden says, blinking against the surge of rain. “You brought me a blanket?”

“Yeah. Jesus, look at you.” Bill says, his brow pinching with worry as he unfurls the blanket. 

Lowering his head, Holden revels in quiet disbelief as Bill drapes the blanket around his shoulders, and draws it closed at his chest. 

“Come on, you’re going to catch a cold.” Bill says, his hand bracing against the middle of Holden’s back to lead him towards the car. 

Holden quietly lets Bill guide him to the passenger’s side and hold the door open for him. Slipping into the vehicle, Holden lets out a shuddering sigh of relief at the warm air blasting from the dashboard vents. 

Bill jogs around the hood of the car, and climbs behind the wheel. When he pulls the door shut behind him, the interior falls into silence except for their muted, heavy breathing, and the quiet sound of Holden’s teeth shivering against one another. 

“You okay?” Bill asks. 

“Yeah.” Holden whispers, his voice unsteady with a chilled tremor.

 He slips his eyelids open to peek across the car at Bill. His face is illuminated in the pale light from the dashboard, rain-slick lips pursed into a grim line of worry, his usually perfectly combed hair flattened with the rain. He doesn’t look angry.

“I’m really sorry about this.” Holden whispers, drawing the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “It’s so late-”

“I said not to worry about it.” Bill says, firmly but gently. “Frankly, I’d be more upset if I found out later that this happened and you didn’t call me.”

Holden glances back down at his lap where his numb fingers are white-knuckled around the blanket. It has that foreign smell of someone else’s house lightly concealed by the ashy sting of cigarettes. Abruptly, he feels like crying again. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bill asks. 

Holden nods, pressing his eyes shut. “I’m just really tired.”

“Okay, let’s get you home.” 

Holden turns his face toward the window where the storm outside continues to rage. The car softly lurches into motion as a tear stings the corner of his eye. He lifts his chin against his cheek to let the emotion absorb into the soft microfiber of the blanket along with the rain. It takes him just as long the drive back to his apartment for him to realize that he isn’t just overwrought or extremely tired, but relieved - as if he’s been holding his breath since Atlanta, waiting for everything to spill over between them, waiting for Bill’s disapproval to come crashing down on his fragile shoulders. It hasn’t come, and apparently it never will; he’s been shadowboxing with lying ghosts. 

At his apartment, Bill shuts off the engine, and climbs out of the car. Holden steps out onto the street on the other side, letting the blanket slide from his shoulders. 

“I’ll walk you in.” Bill says.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Bill circles around the car, his expression determined and unwavering. He waves a finger at the drooping blanket. “Come on, put that back on.”

“It’s yours, I don’t want to take it.”

“You know how long that thing has been sitting in my closet for?” Bill asks, pulling the blanket back up around Holden’s neck. He nods toward the building. “Come on, the blanket is the least of my worries. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Holden doesn’t protest again as Bill leads them across the street to the lobby. He punches in the door code with cold, shivering fingers that he quickly sticks back underneath the blanket when the door unlocks. 

In the elevator, neither of them say a word, but Bill’s hand is tucked loosely against Holden’s lower back. It’s not grabbing or forceful, just resting there almost protectively. When Holden closes his eyes, he can feel the weight of it more than the bone-chilled shivers running all the way to the core of his body. 

Holden leads the way to his door, and drags his keys out of pocket with numb fingers. 

“You should get out of those wet clothes right away.” Bill says, quietly.

Holden nods. “I will.”

“Good. The last thing we need is you catching a cold or pneumonia.”

“Yeah.” Holden mutters, jiggling his key in the lock. 

“Hey,” Bill says, touching his elbow. 

Holden glances up from the lock, and Bill’s eyes are soft in the low light of the corridor, worried and unaccusing. 

“We need you.” He says, “So take care of yourself, okay?”

Holden’s throat tightens, and he nods. Shrugging his shoulders to indicate the blanket, he says, “I’ll get this back to you on Monday.”

“Sure. Keep it if you want.” 

Holden frowns softly as Bill gives him a pat on the back, and moves past him back in the direction of the elevator. 

“Let me know if you need a ride to work on Monday.” He says. 

“Thanks, I will.”

“Okay, see you then.”

Holden stands with his key in the lock as he watches Bill amble down the hall back towards the elevator. A slight smile tugs at his mouth. 

When Bill is out of sight, he gets the door open, and slips into his apartment with a sigh of relief. 

First, he drapes the blanket over the arm of the couch, and takes off his wet clothes. When he’s in clean, dry pajamas, he goes into the kitchen to boil water for tea, and as the kettle warms, shuffles into the living room where the discarded blanket is lying. Picking it up, momentarily holds it to his nose, and closes his eyes as he inhales the lingering, warm smell underneath the rain. If he washes it, that scent will be gone. 

Carrying the blanket into his bedroom, Holden uses clothespins to hang it from the curtain rod to dry. Faint light from the streetlamp filters through the microfiber, casting a soft, pinkish glow across his room. The cold in his bones is almost entirely melted away, and he feels warm again.