#oh yeah also reminder if you have any prescriptions that will run out before new years you should really refill them asap!

[kirby-the-gorb]

[bigskydreaming]

I kinda wanna fucking scream, so here, have a offline bullshit rant post.

So I’ve literally been trying to get my stupid fucking meds for over a MONTH now at this point, which I’m sure you can all see like, my mood is just wooooonderful these days. Not an excuse, casual reminder that yeah you do gotta take care of your own space so if my mood is dragging anyone down, I’m totes on board with blocking or unfollowing or y’know, burning me in effigy or something. Okay maybe not that last part. But still. You get it. And its not even that like, I need mood stabilizers per se, lol, so shout out to the armchair diagnosticians helpfully peppering my inbox still in their quest to oh so slickly be like ‘hey you’re a hot mess, take your hot messness away from tumblr’ like lol, didn’t ask.....nah, its mostly the perpetual lack of sleep and chronic pain issues that I have zero distraction from when my specific combo of meds isn’t able to let me actually weaponize my ADHD properly and power through that. Its a whole thing. Whatever. Just go with it.

POINT IS. So I’ve been trying to do this for over a month now, first obstacle was even just getting the money together for my refill appointment which is a whopping $150, because I have to pay out of pocket for mental health stuff these days because I had to switch my insurance over to something that paid out more heavily for physical benefits like my jaw surgery.....and because of the pandemic, and how many psychiatrists in my area and that I could actually reach aren’t taking new patients during the pandemic since most of them are conducting business virtually still, like, I have barely any resources for seeking out and trying new psychiatrist offices in the meanwhile that might charge less and I’m kinda stuck with the one I have because the last thing I can afford is to have like, NO psychiatrist at the moment, y’know?

So first I had to have that to even BOOK the appointment, which took forever because rent and food are a joy to accrue when you can barely manage to function as an actual employee of the capitalist machine ahfsklhflkahflakf, but so then I did that and like, got an appointment put on the books for August 19th. That was the soonest they could fit me in back when I paid them for my appointment about a week and a half ago. No, two weeks ago now? Eh, time is fake. ANYWAY, so that wasn’t gonna work for me, so basically the entirety of last week was devoted to constantly calling and trying to check in every other hour to see if they had any sooner cancellations I could take, because for whatever fucking reason, they just ‘don’t do’ a cancellation list wherein they call the next person on the list once they have a cancellation. Whatever.

So finally got a cancellation slot with a virtual appointment last Saturday night at random as fuck 8:40. Okay cool. Most of my refills are fairly simple, no real changes, but two are controlled substances so like, they have to do their due diligence and go through the proper protocols before giving me another prescription to one or whatever. Fine. Okay.

So I call the CVS they sent the prescription for my ADHD med to, the very next morning. One of the controlled substances, and the key med to like....making me functional instead of a rambling disjointed whirlibird of a thought emitter. Problem is, that medication is on back order. Won’t be in until Tuesday. Ugh. Okay, fine. Nothing I can do about it, because while the specific provider I spoke to in order to GET my refill prescriptions was taking an appointment the night before, the actual offices that schedule appointments and connect patients through to their providers was closed for the weekend, so I couldn’t even ask for them to send the scrip somewhere else.

SO. I go back to the CVS on Monday, hoping that maybe it came in early because not like I can do much else in the meanwhile. Course its not there, but oh well. I toy with the idea of calling to ask my provider to send the scrip to a different pharmacy (only had it sent to this one cuz its within walking distance to me, and since I can’t drive for medical reasons and Uber’s are expensive as fuck, just for errands, like, even though walking is sooooo not fun for me physically, like it is what it is). I decide against it because here’s another fun fact about this controlled substance....for security reasons, pharmacies don’t have to tell people over the phone if they have it in stock or not. Like, they won’t just say no we don’t have it in stock - I mean, they WILL say that, but that doesn’t actually mean anything because that’s what most of them say about that particular medication no matter whether or not they DO, and then just cite security protocols, so you have to actually GO to the store in question to ask them and even get a real answer to whether or not they even HAVE it in stock to FILL a prescription if its sent over. And no, the provider won’t just send scrips into several different pharmacies at once and just be whichever has it in stock can fill it - because again, controlled substance.

SO. I decide its not worth it to try getting the scrip sent over somewhere else, because I’d have to at least waste money on an Uber to even travel to various pharmacies and even check if they CAN fill it sooner than this one, when at least this place will have it in tomorrow. Its just one more day at this point.

Except then I go back on Tuesday. Oh sorry, don’t know why that other person told you we’d have our order in today, our shipments of that medication don’t come in until Wednesdays.

So I go back Wednesday. Success! They have it in stock. I go to pay, pulling out my goodRx coupon that was just printed out that morning, specifically citing the price for CVS at Target. The pharmacy manager says sorry, we don’t honor that coupon here for controlled substances like this one. I say: record scratch? He’s like yeah, that’s at the discretion of individual pharmacies, and we don’t honor that price for this specific medication, because we don’t want to attract customers only coming here to get that medication filled for that price. (This pharmacy is right at the edge of Inglewood and Culver City, for anyone who is familiar with those neighborhoods. The implications are exactly as they appear to be). So I’m like, what’s the regular generic price? He quotes me something that’s $180 more than the coupon, and thus $180 more than I have since I was focused totally on getting THIS amount ASAP, so I could get these meds so I could do more work and make more money. You see the train of thought. I’m like well that’s awesome, I don’t have anything close to that. Hey. Weird question. Why did nobody I talked to the past three days in a row that I’ve walked into this store in person to request this refill, like, mention this little tidbit about not honoring this coupon so instead of waiting for a backorder that would do me no good, I could have been spending that time having my prescription transferred somewhere that WOULD honor it?

He’s like, well did you mention to any of them that you’d be using a goodRx coupon for this particular medication? I said, yup. He said, you sure? I said well the specific process each time was I came in, I asked if this medication was in, they said what’s your name and date of birth, I provided that info, they said are you paying out of pocket, we don’t have valid insurance info for this on file for you, I said yup paying out of pocket with a goodRx coupon, they said *clickety clack of the keyboard* nope, sorry, we won’t have this medicine in until Tuesday, I mean Wednesday. 

He’s like, well you must be misremembering or they would have told you at the time that we don’t take GoodRx coupons on this medication. I’m like, dude, it was you. It was literally you that I spoke to two of those three times, right here at the counter, in person. I’m gonna go ahead and trust my memory of those interactions and what was said there over yours since you don’t actually remember having talked to me two times in the last three days. He’s like, I gotta go help another customer. There is no other customer. I leave. Fun day for everyone.

So then I call around town to at least check which CVS will actually honor the coupon I have and the price that I can afford to pay it at. I don’t bother asking if they even have the medication in stock because I know its not guaranteed to be a CORRECT answer, but at least I can see who accepts this damn coupon. Also, reason I’m only trying big brand pharmacies instead of smaller, hole in the wall ones is because again, controlled substance, and I know from experience that the bigger brand pharmacies are at least more likely to have that med in stock whereas most smaller ones tend to run out very quickly as they usually only get enough for their existing/regular customers and a little extra.

I find a CVS five miles away - not walkable, gonna have to Uber. Call my psychiatrist office again to ask them to transfer the scrip, front office says they’ll send the request to my provider, who usually checks and fulfills such requests in 24-48 hours. I’m like okay cool, can I get a phone call to let me know when that happens, so at least I know when to check back to follow up if it hasn’t happened yet for whatever reason? They’re like no, the pharmacy will send you a text or call when they get the prescription sent over and you can take it from there with them. I’m like okay, but I’ve done this a bunch of times and know from experience the pharmacy does NOT in fact always call or text, so is there a certain time to follow up to inquire if the provider has already sent the scrip and the pharmacy SHOULD have it by now or if the delay is on the provider’s end? Front office is like yeah no. I’m like, swell.

So that was yesterday. I call the pharmacy (which I still don’t even know if they have the medication IN STOCK to fill the scrip even once they GET the scrip, and won’t until I can actually Uber out there, but one thing at a time at this point) at like 9 pm, they’re a 24 hour pharmacy, and they’re like nope, we got nothing (this is after spending an hour and a half on hold to even TALK to someone at the pharmacy). Called them again today at noon, still nada. Technically I have another 29 hours before the window in which the provider is supposed to send the refill scrip to this new location, before I can be like, okay so they still haven’t done it, can we send him a nudge or another request. The 24-48 hour window will only actually EXPIRE after their offices close on Friday meaning it’ll be Monday before I can even actually REACH someone again to ask them to send the scrip again, if the pharmacy hasn’t ACTUALLY gotten it by Friday night, and pessimistically, I’m not super inclined to assume that they will at this point. 

I’m antsy, irritable, hungry because I don’t even know for SURE sure if the new pharmacy will ACTUALLY honor the coupon or say no sorry we don’t do that here either, whoever told you that was wrong, or if they’ll even actually have it in stock versus I’ll have to have it sent somewhere else AGAIN, so I have to pinch every penny possible in order to ensure I have the most money possible once my prescription IS filled in case the price is more than I expected again or in case I have to take Ubers there or further than I expected or basically....shit happens that I don’t expect. And this is what I’m basically spending all my time doing instead of working, because trying to get work done in this state is like....the harder I try to make it happen, the less it actually gets done, so I try and prioritize this and its roadblock after roadblock dragging out and wasting my time, and like yeah, I can post and shit while I’m doing this aka sitting on hold or walking around town trying to get shit filled because its fine if I ramble incoherently along the way in posts, but actual WORK work requires like....fucking coherency and succinctness and not having to stop and start every five minutes to call someone else, and oh yeah, being able to power through migraine spikes. And just.

I’m very annoyed about anything and everything to do with this shit. The hoops you have to jump through to even get the stuff that like....actualizes your hoop jumping ability, is just....*gnashing of teeth*

Anyway. So that’s my offline bullshit rant. Yay. The end.

[elsewhereuniversity]

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in?                                                                                     In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a  birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

                                                                        Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

 “I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

x

[dershloop]

i wrote this while sick nd did edit it while slightly less sick so excuse and weird discrepancies LMAO

Title: Get Well Soon, Gumball

Words: 1698

Warnings: a bit of swearing, some self-esteem/body issues mentioned

Relationships: Glacier, background Plasma

“Are you sure you should be training today Cole? You don’t look so good,” Jay said hesitantly, looking over at his friend concerned for his health.

“Yeah dude, you look rough. I’m surprised Zane even let you get out of bed,” Kai chimed in, narrowly avoiding a hard blow to the head from the automated training dummy.

“Don’t say my name too loud guys, he didn’t,” Cole croaked, “I just can’t afford to take a day off.”

“What?” Kai exclaimed, purposefully being as loud as he could to try to draw Zane’s attention from inside the monastery. This time, however, he wasn’t as lucky in regards to dodging the dummy while also attempting to look after his best friend, letting it land a well-placed blow to his ribs. “Fucking hell, ow,” He groaned from his new position on the dusty ground, splaying out his arms in legs, letting out loud, long, laboured breaths as he attempted to lessen the pain.

“Oh my God, firefly are you ok?” Jay said, abandoning his kendo helmet and Shinai on the ground as he rushed over to his boyfriend to help him up. Cole walked over too, though with a lot less urgency, not even taking off his helmet or dropping his own Shinai.

“Ok you definitely need to get back in bed,” Kai said through laboured breaths to Cole, taking Jay’s hand and hoisting himself up with a wince as his side stabbed with pain “You didn’t even drop your Shinai. I’ve known you for years and even if you’re feeling rough you’re always one of the first to help us if one of us falls. You’re not well.”

“I heard shouting, is everything ok?” Zane called, walking out into the yard to the sight of Jay fussing over Kai and Cole stood, fully geared out and standing shakily, looking as if he wasn’t 100% sure where he was.

“You’re boyfriends being a little shit,” Jay said, looking over at Zane as he practically dragged Kai away from the yard and towards Nya and Pixal’s workshop to get some kind of medical help for his extremely bruised and possibly broken ribs.

“Yeah Z, he is not ok. You need to sort him out and get him in bed,” Kai wheezed, hobbling slightly.

“Kai shut up before you do yourself anymore damage. This dumbass probably just broke a few ribs and he still has the nerve to lecture Cole about being out of bed. I hope he feels better soon, I’ll come and see him after I’ve dumped him on Nya and Pix,” Jay said, beginning to attempt to drag Kai away.

“You know you love me really,” Kai coyly remarked, stilling wheezing slightly. Jay didn’t respond, but Zane could tell he rolled his eyes.

Zane panned his eyes over to his own sick boyfriend, who was still standing, fully kitted out in his Kendo training gear. Even his shinai was hanging loosely from his large hands. He looked genuinely awful, worse than he had that morning in fact.

“Before you say anything, I feel fine,” Cole croaked, letting out a long sniff afterwards.

“Cole Hence Brookstone I told you to stay in bed,” Zane said sternly, looking over at the quivering mess of a boyfriend who was currently stood in front of him.

“I know but-”

“No buts, you’re coming with me right now.”

Cole knew better than to continue to protest; in situations like this, Zane usually got his way. Whether or not it was rightly so was down to interpretation. He shuffled through the blurred hallways, not 100% sure where he was going. He knew a bed of some kind would be involved but the question of whose bed was a largely unanswered one considering his brain was 300% more concentrated on keeping him upright and at least semi-conscious. The room he was led into was dark; too dark to be Zane’s and it wouldn’t be Kai, Jay, Lloyd or Nya’s because that’d be weird. Even he was conscious enough to know it was his room.

“Here, I’ll sort out your gear and stuff just try to relax,” Zane spoke softly, taking the kendo helmet off and placing it to the side, doing the same with the rest of his gear and gi. He then began sifting through Cole’s wardrobe, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants to change into. Only then did he let him back into bed. Cole frowned and looked up at Zane from his place in bed.

“Get in with me. I need my teddy bear,” Cole groaned, his voice gravelly and even deeper than usual. Zane smiled.

“Ok, just give me a second to change. I doubt I’ll be leaving here for a while so there’s no point in being in my gi,” He said, walking over to Cole’s wardrobe again and pulling out a t-shirt and shorts, quickly changing and climbing into bed with him, any thought of training for at least that day discarded. Cole quickly readjusted himself, scooching over onto Zane, wrapping his arms and legs around him, resting his head on his chest for warmth.

“Why’d you get out of bed? I told you I’d be back with tea soon.” Zane said softly, running Cole’s hair through his fingers, twirling strands around and watching as the light reflected off it, showing at least another 10 hues shining through. The deep blues, browns and midnight blacks mingled and danced with the golden light streaming in through the curtains. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Even if he didn’t always think so. Zane would always be there to remind him that he was.

“I can’t afford a day off,” Cole said hoarsely, “I’m already not as thin as you guys, the more days I take off the worse it’ll get.” Zane furrowed his brow and thought for a moment, trying to fully process what Cole had just said.

“Are you… saying what I think you’re saying? Because if you are, I’m going to have to take evasive measures,” Zane said matter of factly. If Cole really did think him being bigger was a bad thing, there would have to be action taken.

“What? You know it’s true. If I stop working out I’ll just get fatter, I can’t take a day off,” He croaked sadly, biting his lip. His head was spinning but he couldn’t just lay in bed all day; he had to do something. He had to at least get a few reps in.

“Hmmm,” Zane hummed, “It’s worse than I thought. Cole, it seems you are suffering from a serious case of negative body image. There’s only one known cure,” Cole laughed a little and played along.

“What is it, doc?”

“500 kisses and a whole day in bed of cuddles,” Zane replied stoically.

“Oh well then, someone who spent 2 hours downloading every episode of greys anatomy must know what they’re talking about,” Cole replied sarcastically, a goofy smile playing on his lips.

“Exactly, and I know you’re being sarcastic so I see I’m going to have to crank it up to 700 kisses.”

“Oh no! How terrible!” Cole gasped, still being sarcastic, however, it backfired as he began to cough aggressively.

“That’s what you get for being an asshole, I’m also cranking your prescription up to 1000 kisses but seeing as this might go on for a while, I’m capping it at that,” Zane said with a chuckled, rubbing his hand up and down Cole’s back slowly, just waiting for Cole to say the word so he could administer the treatment.

“You know me too well,” Cole laughed weakly, propping himself up on his chin which admittedly was uncomfortable but he was willing to endure so he could look at Zane’s beautiful face, “So doc, when’s the treatment starting?”

“How… about… now!” Zane exclaimed, beginning to pepper kisses all over Cole’s head and face, making Cole laugh hoarsely.

Zane pushed Cole off of him, pinning his arms down and kissing all up his arms and onto his hands and fingers, before moving to his torso and making sure every square inch was covered in his love. Eventually, he made his way back up to Cole’s face, making sure every little bit of his neck was covered as well, in some places even leaving small red marks behind. Whether or not they were unintentional, Zane would never tell. The final kiss was placed on Cole’s lips, making sure to press extra hard to accentuate his point.

“Wow, Z, you’re meticulous I’ll give you that,” Cole said through laughs shaking his head at the nindroid currently sat on his lap. His hands sat on his waist comfortably, a true testament to how much they really were meant to be. It was almost as if the sweet tin can sat on top of him was made for him.

“Why thank you. Are you cured?”

“If I say no, do I get more kisses?” Cole said coyly with a smirk, massaging circles into Zane’s waist with his thumbs.

“Depends. If you’re good and get in bed properly and don’t leave until your better, then most assuredly,” Zane said matter of factly, his own hands idly drifting over Cole’s torso. If he could see inside his mind for just a moment, Zane was sure he’d see himself the way he saw him. He was the perfect size for hugs and cuddles, and his larger stature just meant all the more Cole to hold and love. It also meant he could pick him up which, in their 2 years of dating, Zane was sure he’d never find it the most amazing and adorable thing ever.

“Oh well then, it’s settled,” Cole said quickly, moving Zane off of him and getting under the covers, quickly snuggling back into his chest. He could hear all the mechanical parts inside him buzzing and whirring, turning and pumping, keeping Zane alive. There was something comforting about the soft noises that emitted from his boyfriend that just radiated comfort. The mechanical buzz was a grounding constant. Always there, always around, always keeping him sane.

Zane smiled and wrapped his arm around Cole, holding him close.

“Get well soon, gumball.”

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXI: Treant

There wasn’t much interesting about me. Not really. That wasn’t me being self-deprecating or anything. If anything, I quite liked being in the background. Others around me have always been more interesting, and I was happy enough just to help those others out.

That’s why I worked from childhood through my adulthood in order to become a doctor. It wasn’t like a total dream of mine, and I wasn’t sure if I’d call myself “passionate” (one of my top qualities, I think, is that I’ve been called a dispassionate person. But I shouldn’t humblebrag), but when I was in grade school and saw one of my classmates get injured, I couldn’t help but be compelled to want to help them. Then there were times, like when my sister or my mom would get sick and I’d be like “gee, I wonder what would help them get better.”

Skip past many years of boring details, and the rest is history. Got my own apartment after completing my internship at one of the nearby hospitals. When my sister helped me move in, we found a time travel device in the closet that I mistook for a Nintendo 64. It’s not as interesting of a detail as it seems. Anyway, that aside, there was still work to be had just about every day.

Skip ahead a few more years after that…

...And there was still work to be had.

It was about that time in the morning when it wasn’t yet bright and early and the coffee I poured tasted like sludge. When the showers were scalding and suffocating fumes filled the bathroom, yet when I turned off the shower, I shivered like a nudist at the north pole.

Towel was too small. Quick shimmy and I groaned and threw it in the laundry basket. No one else was around to see me naked, so whatever. Even if there was, my bedroom door was closed. On the bed were my work clothes, which in my groggy state, I tried to fit the shirt on my legs and the pants on my head. After a few tries and tired moans and groans, I got it right. Still, my tie was a little loose.

I’ll fix it on my way there. Or I won’t and I’ll just say I’m setting a new fashion trend.

I glanced down at my limited edition Kamen Rider Black wristwatch and my blood pressure spiked upon noticing the time.

“Fuck,” I cursed, though in my hoarse tiredness, it sounded more like a donkey braying.

Yes, it was ‘fucktime’, that universal concept of that time of day where one looks at the time and exclaims “fuck!” There were many reasons for cursing at a time of day, and it didn’t have to be any time in particular, but the most common reason was due to the situation I was in: I was running late for work.

In a state of fight or flight (which I am always in flight since I could use the exercise), I put a couple of bagel slices into the toaster, wished that my toaster had a turbo speed button, and paced about until those two slices popped up; they weren’t crispy enough, but they’d have to do. Like the skilled painter that I wasn’t, I swiped across the two halves of the bagel with a messy gloop of cream cheese.

No more time left.

I ran out the door, or whatever constituted as a run in my mind, with the bagel halves held tight in my mouth.

This ridiculous display persisted for about...oh, to hell with it, let’s just skip all the embarrassment. Fast forward to when I got to the hospital, drenched in sweat and cream cheese on the cuff of my shirt.

“Ran late again?” The receptionist, I think her name was Wormwood, looked up from her computer. Her thick brown hair was in a bun and she didn’t just have bags under her eyes, but bags under those bags. That’s okay, I’ve had those days as well. From the reflection of her glasses, it looked like she was playing an intense game of Tetris.

“A doctor is never early nor late,” I huffed, trying to sound more self-assured than my short breath would allow.

“Yeah, you wish. Go change your shirt. You’ve got a patient waiting for you in room 413,” she clucked. Was clucked the right descriptor? Well, it was a vague chicken-like tone, so cluck was good enough.

“Why’s it always patients with me?” I joked. She didn’t so much as give a half-hearted chuckle. She could have at least said, “A for effort,” but I guess everyone was a critic. I hurried over to the hospital’s resident dry cleaner, who always had a spare pair of uniforms, scrubs, nice shirts, you name it. Our dry cleaner guy was a typical average dude with stringy red hair, named Marion or something. He always had that strung out look about him that gave the impression that he was pretty trustworthy. I showed him the cream cheese on my shirt and he made an OK sign with both hands, closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“Say no more,” he assured me in the most endearing bored-out-of-your-mind voice imaginable.

As I waited for him to grab me a spare shirt, I looked up and saw a couple of green scrubs hanging around.

“I can’t do this on my own. I’m no superman,” I hummed the tune. Marion (that might not have been his name, but it was pretty damn close to what I imagine his name was) turned and asked, “what?”

“You know, Scrubs? It’s a reference.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know the first thing about references,” he bemoaned in both a disinterested tone and a disoriented one.

Man, nobody appreciates a good reference these days.

After I received my change of shirt, I went into the nearest bathroom and speedran the Trent Dress Up game. Not to brag, but I might have set a new record that day. Okay. Moving on.

Up four flights of stairs I lumbered up, each foot dragged behind the other. Yes, I could have used the elevator, but then that wouldn’t have been very doctor-like of me, would it? I mean, plenty of doctors took the elevator, and there was nothing wrong with that, but I always tried to do healthy things. It didn’t really matter much, I mean, I was already healthy, I was just a little chubby, was all. So what? I was a big ol’ teddy bear in a lab coat. At least I rocked the look.

Twelve rooms down. Then the thirteenth: that was where I heard the assistant.

“Dr. Bark will see you now,” the assistant informed the patient. After she left, which I didn’t really get a good look at, but I’ve probably worked with her before, I opened the door and greeted the patient.

“Woof, woof!” I made my best dog voice, which probably sounded closer to a howler monkey than a dog.

My patient just looked at me, not amused in the slightest. He was an elderly man who looked like a bad caricature of an elderly man. Not one of the kind ones, either. No, more like the grumpy kind who would yell at you if you so much as lived in the general vicinity of the same neighborhood he lived in. Then again, I knew looks could be deceiving and if anything, his face was probably contorted in pain.

“Okay, so I’m not that clown doctor, but if you honk my nose, I will still make a sound,” I gave a nervous laugh as I said. He just continued to stare at me.

It turned out that he had a small seizure just as I entered the room. Lovely timing, really.

Before I could take a break and have some lunch, there were a few more fun moments, gross moments, sad moments, silly moments, the whole gamut. Really, I loved my job because there were many opportunities to treat others and get them to better health. But also I hated my job because it was a job and I hated being the bearer of big bills due to the malicious concept of private insurance.

My sister-in-law was always going on about how I should be more ambitious. How I could try to start my own clinic and treat people for free, out of the kindness of my heart. Which I loved, that really was a dream if I ever had one. But there was the matter of means. Equipment costs money, I’d need more space, I’d have to get all those good prescription drugs that all the cool cats liked. I wasn’t even sure if I could do it, legally.

But hey, if it were possible, I’d do it. For sure. Maybe.

Once I made it to the hospital’s cafeteria, I grabbed a lobster salad with a garlic roll and a pink lady apple for an extra layer of irony. It was ironic because no matter how many times I ate one of those, I could never keep myself away from the hospital. Shame, too. The busier I was, the less time I had to play Monster Hunter.

Anyway, as I looked for a place to sit, I hummed a tune I heard over the radio.

“Don’t call my name, don’t call my name, Alejandro. Fernando,” I hummed. Or rather, mumbled. Because I knew for a fact that I said those words out loud, whether or not I should have saved myself the embarrassment.

“Yes?” Crooned the seductive and husky toned voice of a man I didn’t recognize. I looked around, then noticed that the owner of such a voice was seated all by his lonesome at a table in the middle of the cafeteria.

Oh good, finally a table that’s not crowded.

I made the no-brainer decision to sit across from him at the table. His head sported a vast field of curly black hair as well as the stubble-laden remnants of a rugged black mustache. He reminded me of the guy from that Just Cause series of games, though not sure why, as I’ve never played them, though I had to admit, grappling hooks were pretty cool.

“Did you say something?” I stared into his inviting rosemary colored eyes. Mostly because I felt it rude if I didn’t. Imagine if someone did that to me, just looked away when they spoke to me. Actually, that’s probably happened many times.

“You said my name,” he replied, more plain this time, without as much of a soothing effect, but no less friendly.

“Oh? Alejandro?” I blinked, unaware that I had said anyone’s name.

“No, Fernando, but you may call me Fern. Everyone does,” he smiled as he told me, a smile as soothing as his voice could be.

“Well, I certainly wanna do what everyone else is doing,” I chuckled. “I’m Trent, by the way.”

He gave a slow nod.

“What a beautiful name. Do you know who does the song that you were singing?”

Oh god, if ever there was a time to be embarrassed.

“I just heard the song on the radio! I don’t know anything about it, I just thought it was kinda catchy.”

“I’ll give you a hint: it starts with ‘Lady’.”

Fuck. I was bad at guessing games.

“Lady and the Tramp?”

“No.”

“Lady Marmaduke?”

“No. You have three more guesses.”

Wait. He never said I had a limit of five. Now I was really feeling the pressure.

“Lady Groudon?”

“Close.”

Oh! Now I knew what it was!

“Lady Goomy!”

“...No, not quite. But really close.”

Damn. I only had one guess left, too. The heat was really on now.

“Lady Gloop?”

He bit his lip trying to hold back laughter, but couldn’t, and it all came flooding out.

“Um, did I win?” I wasn’t sure what to make of that laughter, but I had to know. I just HAD to know.

After he settled down, he shook his head and with an aching calm assured me:

“It’s not important.”

“Well, what is important, then?” I grimaced, the answer not given to me.

“The lives of our patients are what’s important.”

Yeah, that seemed a little obvious, though, considering our professions and all. Actually, I wasn’t quite sure whether he was a doctor or not. I didn’t recall ever working with him.

“What do you do here, by the way?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m a nurse, mi amor.”

Once he said that, everything clicked into place.

“No wonder you’ve got that gentle voice,” I observed.

“I don’t have to be gentle if you don’t want me to be.”

“No, no,” I shook my head. “For the sake of the patients, I think you ought to be.”

We went back and forth after that, chatting about this and that, though nothing really important. Really, it was nice, I didn’t usually chat with anyone. Afterward, however, it was back to the grind. Oh joy.

Once said day one was done, I flopped on home and collapsed on my sofa. Next to me was a controller, and I had bought my copy of Final Fantasy XVI the other day, but haven’t had a chance to play it.

“My body...too feeble…” I wheezed out the words as my hands shook trying to reach for the controller. Just as it seemed like the controller was within my grasp, my phone rang.

When there was something in closer proximity than the item that I really wanted, the natural urge was to reach for the one in closer proximity instead.

“Hey Trent. It’s me,” came the sudden and to the point tone of my sister-in-law: Vesuvius.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” I snapped to my senses and sat right up. “Is everything okay? Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve got a nice little apartment with my beautiful wife. I just haven’t spoken to you in a while and wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Oh, what a relief. I was worried you were having another mental health episode.”

“Hey! I don’t go around pointing out the time you had food poisoning, do I?” She scolded. Yeah, okay. That was fair.

She didn’t have many mental health episodes, but ever since that incident with her and Juniper’s stalkers, she had been more sensitive and more on edge. That said, I really was happy for her and that she was at peace.

“You’re right. God, that was a rough time. Who knew blueberries could be so poisonous?”

“All things in nature can,” she stated. Gee, if anyone knew that, it would’ve been her.

“How are all things with settling into the apartment?” I asked. She hadn’t been there long, but it was a bold step for her, considering her social anxiety, which she tried to act like she didn’t have.

“You know, it’s an adjustment. It gets lonely when Juniper isn’t home. I’m not used to her having anything resembling a job. I hate to sound possessive, but I don’t like that she has one. I wish we didn’t have to make money to live.”

“Be as possessive as you want,” I chuckled. “Er...within reason. Say, have you saved up for anything?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, you always go on about wanting to do that whole ‘cottagecore’ lifestyle thing. So maybe you could save for that and go for it?”

She drew a deep breath, as if she were about to blow a gust of wind out of every orifice.

“First off, I don’t know what a ‘cottagecore’ is, but I’m cautious around anything with the suffix of -core. You know I’m a delicate flower.”

“And a poisonous one,” I pointed out.

“Yes, well, poisonous flowers can be delicate. And hey! Be nice to me!”

I coughed up a chuckle.

“Okay, well, second off,” she continued. “What I want is to live off the land, in a field of flowers. Growing my own field. Having peace and quiet in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, that’s cottagecore.”

“Don’t say words I don’t understand to me!” She scolded. “It’s really demeaning.”

“Okay, okay,” I tried to settle down with the teasing. “But for real, it’s not like it’s impossible. Juniper could build a house, she likes making things.” Then again, she probably wouldn’t build a house very well, but I’m sure she’d enjoy the attempt. “It may take a bit of money for the resources, but it’s not like it’s impossible.”

“Yeah, well, first thing’s first is I want to see a therapist. Like, an actual therapist.”

“Oh, that could be good for you.”

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed, and the tone of her voice shifted to a more mournful one. “I still remember how I was during that time. I have trouble believing that it’s really over. All of that pain lingers with me. It’s not something I wish to remember, but it’s something I’m unable to forget.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad,” I tried to reassure her. I assumed she was referring to the whole stalker incident that occurred at the same time she dealt with her mental health episode. “Everyone has a breaking point. There’s nothing to be ashamed of there.”

“No, but there is. I was confused. Desperate. I hurt the most important person in my life. I hurt someone else that I could have helped. That I could have saved. If I had just known how. If my mind was more clear back then,” her voice shifted into a growl. “I hate it. I hate inflicting pain. Especially because it’s not who I want to be. No who I am anymore,” her voice then grew sharper. Harsher. “Yet I can’t help but feel like it’s still with me, buried somewhere, and I just want to punch a wall, rip my hair out, something! Something to cut this off from me!”

“Hey, hey,” I could tell she was working herself up. “You and Juniper are both sensitive people. Sometimes people lash out when their emotions are heightened. It doesn’t mean you’re bad or anything, but you can work on it. For what it’s worth, I do think you two are good together.”

“Thank you,” her voice quieted back to the mournful tone it was at first and I could hear sniffling and weeping in the background. “I’m sorry. I told myself I would keep composed and yet I went off into that rant. Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a better therapist than the one I pretended to be.”

“Heh. It’s nothing. You’ve definitely been through a lot. Get yourself some tea or something, that might help.”

“Thanks,” she sniffled again. “What about you? Is there anything new with you?”

“Eh. Same ol’ boring stuff at the hospital. People get sick and die, some people get better.”

“To which?” She let out a weak chuckle.

“Oh, definitely the sick part. I’ve yet to someone get better from being dead, but anything can happen. Fingers crossed, right?”

“Heh…so there’s nothing new at all? What about at the house? I bet you’re glad to have Juniper and I out of your hair.”

“Eh. You guys weren’t that bad to deal with.”

“That’s a relief. Do you miss us?”

“Hmm...a bit. It’s a bit quiet now, but I like it. Means I can play video games in peace and walk around the apartment in my underwear.”

“Indeed, that is a positive. Though I didn’t need to hear the last part.”

I tried to think about anything of substance I could actually talk about.

“Oh! I met someone new at the hospital today! This nurse named Fern. He’s got these beautiful murky green eyes and maze-like curly dark hair. Oh, and his mustache. I bet I’d be ticklish if it rubbed against me,” I announced with a sense of excitement at the prospect of actually having something to say.

“Are you attracted to this Fern person?” She inquired.

While I didn’t quite know where she got that idea from, I wasn’t going to say that he was ugly or anything like that.

“I’m certainly not repelled by him,” I joked. Heh. Magnets. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, since you described him in such exquisite detail.”

“Eh. Isn’t it normal to describe people you talk about?”

“Not in my experience. Not like that, anyway. But hey, what do I know?”

“Yeah, well, I just met him today, so I doubt I’ll describe him every time I talk about him. He seems nice, in any case. Hey, maybe the four of us could play D&D together sometime?” I perked up at the prospect of having someone else to play D&D with. That was the most important thing about meeting someone. If not D&D, maybe I could gush about 80s Sci-Fi movies or J-RPGs.

“I don’t know...that game always brings out the worst in me...I try to be a healer but whenever I encounter a monster I just want to grind them into dust and then I curse the fact that I didn’t pick a class like barbarian.”

“Heh. That is a problem. You could always just be a barbarian.”

“No. I don’t want to,” I could tell she stuck her nose up just by her tone of voice alone.

“In any case, we gotta get this going on! We never seem to finish a campaign!” I was SO pumped to get this thing going on.

“That’s because I always either quit out of frustration or you end up too busy and we decide to start over from a new campaign as soon as you have free time again,” she pointed out. At least she was honest.

“We’ll figure something out, I’m sure!”

“Mm...well, it was nice talking with you, Trent. I’m glad you seem to be doing well, and good luck with this Fern person.”

“Thanks! You take care too! Bye!”

We hung up and I spent the rest of the day being an exhausted nerdy Trenty bear who somehow did nothing yet time still passed.

As the days went by, I’d spend lunch having conversations with Fern and he said I could talk about whatever I was passionate about, so OF COURSE a bunch of nerdy shit came up.

“About halfway through the game, she dies, but you can get her final limit break later on. This is a way to show that she’s still with the party in spirit and the party keeps it as a memento, even though they know they cannot use it, OR they refuse to use it to honor her memory.”

“I see. And it’s not just the developers making a mistake?” Fern pondered. The gall.

“No way. Game developers wouldn’t just do that. In fact, you can hack the game to make it so Aerith lives, by coming back after she dies, but she’ll say at a certain point, ‘I’m not supposed to be here’. That’s because the developers knew that players would try to bring her back, so they were prepared.”

“Wow. That really is haunting,” he looked moved by my explanation. As he should be.

“The game devs were also brilliant for making her and Cloud be besties instead of a romantic interest. There’s a part where Cloud and Aerith go on a date on a ferris wheel and right before they go on the ferris wheel, Aerith turns to cloud and goes ‘wa...wassup homie?’ and Cloud says, ‘golly gee’ in response. By having them be besties, it shows the importance of friendships over romantic relationships. It’s actually shown in a prequel that Cloud had a boyfriend named Zack, but despite it being canon, many fans prefer to act like the game doesn’t exist.”

“That’s a wonderful message for them to show,” he nodded along.

“Yeah. So anyway, Zack dies in the prequel.”

“Damn. This Cloud guy just can’t catch a break.”

Before I was able to continue the conversation further, I received a beep on my pager.

“...And neither can I. I gotta split.”

That was how our typical conversations went. I did most of the talking while he stared and smiled the whole way through. Most of the time, I didn’t mind that, but it also meant that I didn’t know much about him. He hardly seemed like the mysterious type, and I should’ve known the mysterious type due to the people I’ve let in my apartment in the past.

So the next chance we got I decided I’d hold nothing back. We both sat together, once again with our lunches in front of us, and I popped the question:

“Do you have any siblings?” I was casual as I asked him, plain as day with an egg and lettuce sandwich in my hands. He tilted his head and rested it on his palm, looking even more radiant than usual.

“Why yes. I have four sisters. Two of them are engaged. One of them’s married. The fourth one is still looking for love.”

“Oh wow,” I replied. “You know, you could tell her that she doesn’t have to find love. It’s not the be-all and end-all, after all.”

“I think she already knows that. Still, she wouldn’t mind the experience. What about you, Trent?” He spoke my name with such a delicacy that it made my heart tackle the walls of my chest.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “I’ve got a sister. I don’t even know why you mentioned relationships since I just asked about siblings, but she’s in one. I mean, she’s married, so I guess I’ve also got a sister-in-law. If that counts as another sibling, then I’ve got two sisters, maybe?”

He coughed up a chuckle against his fist.

“Love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess it can be.”

For some reason that simple exchange reminded me of an early memory when Juniper and I were kids and we shared a room, bunk beds, in fact.

She hung upside down from the edge of the top bunk of the bed. I always did tell her to be careful, but she never was good at listening to me.

“Hey bro, bro, bruh, bruv,” she pestered me.

“What is it?” I looked up from the book I was reading.

She held down a magazine with pictures of women in hiking gear.

“Look! Aren’t those girls cute? Aren’t they your type?” She pressed it up to my face. Or as well up to my face as she could. Her aim wasn’t the best when she hung upside down. Nevertheless, I took a glance. Of course, as I was more interested in the book I was reading, I didn’t really pay attention.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Not satisfied, she grew in intensity.

“Come on! You didn’t look!”

“Yeah I did!” I shot back. “I’m just more interested in this book right now! You have no idea how cool the Shannara novels are!” Oh, but I wasn’t done. “Also, I’m pretty sure those are your type, not mine!”

She stuck her tongue out.

“What even is your type?” She teased.

I shrugged. Really, I didn’t know then, and even into my 30s, as a doctor, I had no idea if I even had a type. For anyone. After a pause, she then asked.

“Do you think you’d ever have a crush on anyone?”

I gave it some thought. Then, as if it was a no brainer, it clicked.

“If someone was actually interested in me, sure! But c’mon, I’m a nerd. You know how hard it is for people like me.”

She scowled at that.

“That’s just a myth. That shouldn’t stop you.”

She was right. Both back then, and in the present, if she were to tell me that again. But over the years, I grew to have a different excuse.

“Would you ever be open to the idea of love?” Fern’s question brought me out of the memory, back to the moment that I shared with him.

I shrugged.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind. If the opportunity were to occur. But then, I’m always too busy to think about things like that, so it’s never really crossed my mind. I’m sure you can relate, seeing as you’re probably about as busy as I am.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “But it has its advantages.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like how we can spend the same amount of time together.”

Oh yeah. That was a really good point.

“Heh. It is nice to have someone to chat with,” I agreed.

It was a surprise how little time had passed, but I was glad for it. Considering how unpredictable this job could be, I had to be thankful for any precious minutes I got.

“Let’s not worry about that. If we run out of time, we can pick it up another day. So what do you say?”

“So tell me, how did your sister meet her lover?” His curiosity took me by surprise. Not something I thought would be worth asking, but who was I to say what someone did and didn’t find interesting?

All right. So I told him. It seemed he just had that kind of effect on me.

Maybe it was a little cliché, I don’t know, because I don’t know what constitutes as cliché, but it was a rainy evening. I had just gotten off work, I had my umbrella, but it seemed to do me little good as there was a mighty gust of wind and the rain just slid down the umbrella and managed to force itself onto my jacket.

On the way home, I took a shortcut through a side street. I guess it was like an alleyway, but more open. I don’t know, side street sounds appropriate. Curled up underneath the cover of a building’s awning was a homeless woman, a single orange striped blanket over her, damp. Her hair seemed covered in dirt, she shivered, but made no attempt to voice her discomfort. I couldn’t quite make out her face, but maybe it was pity that brought me to pay attention to her in the first place.

Yeah, typical “boy meets girl” story, huh?

At last, she looked up and croaked. Despite facing me, her face seemed to droop low and she looked downtrodden.

“You got money?”

I jumped. Startled. Yeah, not too dignified, but I really just didn’t expect for her to notice me. Once I composed myself, I dug through my jacket pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

“Here, it’s not much, but it’s what I got on me.”

“Thanks,” she replied and took it. No more than that. Of course, if that was the extent of the exchange, there wouldn’t really be anything to tell, now would there?

“Hey, I know it’s late, but there’s a cafe close by we can visit if you want a coffee or something. They’re not open forever, but it’ll keep you dry for a little while,” I offered.

She looked up again, scowled.

“I don’t trust strangers,” she stated.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m a stranger, you’re a stranger. I get that,” I chuckled. “I just figured I’d offer, but you can decline. If you’re worried about me being someone dangerous, you can punch me. I’m not really interested in being cruel or violent or anything like that.”

She squinted. I would later find out that was less because of how ridiculous she may have thought me and more because she had poor eyesight.

“Are you that desperate that you would ask a homeless person out on a date?” Her biting remark might have gotten under the skin of just about anyone else, but I’ve probably heard much worse from some of my patients. Instead, I laughed.

“You don’t have to think of it as a date. I don’t. I’m not really the dating type, anyway. It’s just a spur of the moment thing.”

She shifted eyes, turned her head from left to right, then looked back up on me.

“I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this…but sure,” she heaved out the words.

“Cool,” I stuck my thumb out, then continued, “it’s just a couple of blocks away. I really like the place, since I sometimes don’t get off work until real late and it’s open past midnight.”

“I don’t care...when it’s open...but I could use something warm...to drink,” she sounded lightheaded, in a daze.

Once we made our way through the door of the dim lit cafe with neon lighting, she wiped her shoes on the mat.

Oh. What good manners, I thought. As someone who often forgot to wipe their shoes when entering places, it was a nice reminder to see someone else do so. At least I remembered to put my umbrella down, but that kinda went without saying.

As soon as I approached the counter, I turned to her, still drenched.

“Don’t worry about the cost. Order whatever you like,” I assured her. After I said those words, she looked up, squinted, then closed her eyes.

“I would like a lavender mocha latte, but no dairy. Almond milk if you have it. Coconut would be even better. Give four extra shots of espresso, and if you have dark chocolate syrup, use that.”

Damn. It was like she had the whole thing recited and ready to go. All right.

“I’ll just take a black coffee,” I shrugged. I didn’t need all the sugar or any of that extra stuff.

“Oh. I should have went with that too,” she looked down, possibly embarrassed at her order.

I laughed.

“Don’t worry, I said you could order whatever. My treat.”

She made her way to the table nearest to the window, and took the seat closest to the window as well. As soon as she sat down, she lowered her head onto the table and her arms outstretched to cover her head. Behind her, raindrops slid down the window. It wasn’t much an interesting sight, but I wasn’t a very observant person, so I felt I ought to have taken note of something.

“Just so you know, you should probably forget about me after this,” she uttered and despite her words being muffled, I could still make her words out clear as a river.

“If you want,” I shrugged.

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t associate with me. There’s people after me. I’d rather not get anyone involved.”

I pondered if there was any validity to that. Maybe she ran from an ex, or there was some trafficking ring. That last bit was a little dark. As a middle ground, I thought that maybe she had run off from home as a kid (surprisingly, that part was sort of true, in a sense).

“You probably think I’m crazy. Paranoid, even. I get it. Some homeless woman tells you there’s people after her. You don’t have to believe me. Just so you know, I’m homeless by choice. It’s easier this way. You don’t have to believe that, either.”

“Well, if you’re on the run, maybe it’s not by choice?” I suggested.

She looked up, her face still semi-buried in her arms. Still, I could make out eyes through her bangs. Grayish-purple bags under her eyes, but eyes nonetheless.

“Yeah. You’re probably right. It’s been so long, it’s hard to tell anymore. My head won’t cooperate,” she seemed to agree with my assessment, and as if to confirm as much, she lifted her head up and rubbed her forehead with her palm. With one eye visible, she glared at me.

“Just so you know, even if you considered this a date, I wouldn’t be interested. I’m…” she looked around, then stated, “men don’t interest me.”

I chuckled.

“It’s okay. My sister’s a lesbian. You don’t really have to beat around the bush about it.”

Her eyes widened, then squinted again.

“I don’t know why you would tell me that. I’m not interested. My main focus is my survival, it’s just…” She began to glance to her side and down at the floor. “I’ve been running and hiding so long, I’m growing tired. Sooner or later, I might just give up. It’s a terrible thought, but I don’t think I can go on.”

My concern began to grow, even if I didn’t know the scope of her problem.

“I don’t really know what it is you’re dealing with, but you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“No. I refuse to endanger anyone else,” she seemed adamant about that.

Maybe she was justified, but in a selfish way, that also made me want to help more.

“You can refuse if you want, but the weather forecast says it’s going to be raining over the next few days. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment you can stay in. If nothing else, it’ll keep you dry.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” she looked away once more.

“You wouldn’t be. I’m the one that offered,” I shrugged, a favorite gesture of mine.

“Well...maybe my head is just messed up enough right now, but...fine. As long as I reserve the right to leave at any time.”

“Of course,” I assured her, and I even lifted a feeble smile. Once our coffee was brought over, mine a regular paper coffee cup, hers a ceramic cup filled to the top, we drank in silence. Between intervals of me sipping the bitter bean, I peeked over and noticed how she held onto her cup with a sort of elegance; one hand on the handle, the other grasping the base of the cup, and slow sips taken, not a single slurp to be heard. It was probably a little weird of me to pick up on something like that, I admit.

“I’m Trent, by the way,” I told her out of courtesy. Depending on how long she’d stay, I felt it wise to tell her my name.

“Et...err...Vesuvius. You can call me Vesuvius. Or Ves. I don’t care which,” her eyes shifted and she stammered out the words.

After we finished our coffee, we headed out, umbrella up and ready to go. There wasn’t a long walk ahead of us, and she was silent the whole way through. Not that I tried to make small talk anyway, since the rain was kind of gloomy weather for conversation. She walked with a slump, something I should have warned her to be cautious about, lest she get a hunchback. Maybe she did so because she felt she was too tall to fit under the umbrella, or maybe she had been under such duress for so long that standing up straight no longer registered to her.

Before long, we made our way inside and I showed her to where the spare room was. She didn’t speak a word, not so much as a nod, just went inside. Before I closed the door, I told her, “if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be down the hall and to your left.”

Still, no acknowledgment. That was fine. Just as long as she heard me. For whatever reason, it didn’t register until after I closed the door that I didn’t have anything like an air mattress or a futon for her to sleep on. That room was bare, empty. Not a single item to be found.

Despite that, I was too tired to do anything rational like look for some spare blankets or pillows, and decided it was high time for me to get some rest. At the very least, I turned the heater on and let it run. It wasn’t something I liked to do, and I didn’t think Juniper would be all that comfortable with it on, but screw it, I was the one who paid the bills.

“Well, time for me to get some shut eye,” I announced, thinking there was no one around who could hear me. However, I soon noticed from the corner of my eye a foam basketball being tossed up into the air.

“Who’s the babe?” Juniper, asked in a rather dull voice. I soon turned and saw her laying on the couch, flat on her back.

“Don’t be disrespectful,” I scolded. “I found her on the street. She’s just going to stay over for a few nights.”

“So now you’re picking up homeless chicks?”

Really, maybe she was just moody ‘cause she was tired, or maybe she just felt like giving me a hard time that night in particular.

“I just felt like doing a good deed, there’s nothing behind it,” I corrected her. Again.

“That’s rather nice of you. Just make sure not to overexert yourself. Your health is important too,” she reminded.

“Thanks.”

I thought I could just go to bed, but then a smile which signified mischief spread across her face.

“So, tell me about the babe,” she wouldn’t drop it so soon.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned.

“C’mon, the babe.”

“No,” I folded my arms on my hips. If she could nudge me from where she was at, she would have.

“You remind me of the babe,” her cheery voice returned, coupled with a sing-song tone.

“What babe?” I finally gave in.

“The babe with the power.”

“What power?”

“Power of voodoo!”

“Who do?”

“You do!”

“Do what?”

“Remind me of the babe! Ha ha ha!” she kicked around the couch and laughed. There were certain nights where I could just tell when she watched Labyrinth that day.

“Okay, okay, don’t stay up too late,” I reminded her. “You know where your room is.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Night.”

Ah, Labyrinth. Classic. David Bowie and his tights. Things didn’t get much better than that.

Somehow I managed to tell him all of that with time to spare.

“You have a big heart, Trent,” he told me, which kinda made me want to sulk.

“Yeah...I do try to have a good diet, though,” I pouted.

“No, no, I mean metaphorically,” he patted the air as he spoke, a sure sign of sincerity.

“You mean…?” I stared into his earthen rosemary colored eyes.

“Yes. You are very kind.”

“Oh, phew. For a second there I was worried you meant my weight.”

“No, no. Dear. You are adorable. When I first saw you that fateful day, I said to myself, ‘this is an adorable teddy bear’. I would never have anything unkind to say to a teddy bear.”

“Well, thank you. Does that mean I’m a cuddly looking teddy bear?” I let slip my curiosity.

“I’d have to find that one out for myself. Hey, your story about your sister’s wife got me thinking. How would you like to go out for coffee after work?”

Gee, the possibility never even occurred to me, but it was so simple. Of course.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I’m pretty sure the place is still open.”

“And,” he leaned in a little closer. “May I consider it a date?”

I laughed a little at that.

“If you’d like to.”

“And,” a little closer still. “Would you consider it one?”

That time, my heart went “boing boing” against my chest. I didn’t know the answer to that one. It was too much being put on the spot, I was used to the attention being on other people.

“Um...not no, but maybe yes...I’m not sure…” Came my disgraceful blabbering until I managed to catch myself and re-compose. “Er...I’m not used to thinking about things for myself...but...sure. You’re a pretty cool guy. Let’s consider it a coffee date.”

So we did. Just a few nights later, after work we walked into the parking lot. He had a motorcycle, with enough of a seat for me to fit in the back. It wasn’t awkward in the slightest and in fact, it played out much the same as many of our conversations at lunch before. It all felt natural between us, like trees. He ordered an oregano tea latte and I had my usual black coffee.

As if by miracle, the sun had yet to set and there wasn’t the slightest hint of rain. We sat across from each other and immersed ourselves in the ambiance of the hums and smooth glitchtunes playing on the coffee shop’s speakers.

“So, if I were to come over to your place tonight, would I see your sister and her wife?” He posed the hypothetical question.

“Nah, they both moved out almost a year ago. They’ve got their own apartment somewhere else in the city, though they’re also saving up to move elsewhere again.”

“So soon?” He tilted his head.

“Well, it’s a dream of Ves’ to live in a field of flowers, open nature, all that stuff. Psychedelic drugs, flowers in hair, tie-dye, I could go on. Juniper’s already found a place a couple of states out, and she found an old beat up pick up truck in a ditch and decided to repair it just for fun. So now all they gotta do is assemble the wood, get some electric lining, plumbing, all that stuff. Which...I don’t have a lot of faith in my sister, she’s no architect or electrician, but she’s the type who gets insistent about doing everything herself, so it’s not like I could talk her out of it.”

“That’s great, though! They’re pursuing their passion. Isn’t that beautiful?”

I shrugged.

“I dunno if ‘beautiful’ is the word I’d use, but yeah. I suppose I’m happy for them.”

“What about you? Do you have any goals?” His eyes fluttered, almost like he wanted to lull me to sleep.

“Sorta, but it’s kinda dumb? I just don’t like the whole ‘charged ten thousand dollars as soon as you walk in and good luck getting your overpriced insurance that you can barely afford, if afford at all, to cover anything’ so I was thinking how it would be cool if I could run my own clinic. I don’t know, maybe it could be funded through donations, but in no way would people have to pay. Like, I doubt I’d be able to do the big stuff like surgeries or transplants, but it’s still something, right? Thing is, that’s kinda impossible, don’cha think?”

Rather than some kind of agreement, he reacted in a rather ferocious manner: he stood up, leaned over, and slammed his hands on the table.

“Trent,” while his voice grew in intensity, it certainly didn’t sound angry. More...motivating. “You must never be afraid of your passion.”

“Uh...okay…” I scratched my cheek. “But what about you? What are you passionate about?”

He sat back down.

“You. Of course,” he answered, so simple, so straightforward in his delivery.

“So, like, does that mean you’d want to play D&D with me sometime?”

He laughed.

“I’d love to.”

“Really? Are you sure? What if you don’t like it? I mean, I don’t even know what your hobbies are.”

“If I end up not liking it, then at least I’ll have found that out for myself. But all of your hobbies, everything that interest you, I want to immerse myself in. Because all of you...is my hobby.”

“Bro…” I leaned forward. “That’s kind of...uh...cool!”

“Oh, and I also like to ride around on my motorcycle. I like watching the sunsets, going hiking, mountain climbing, kayaking, and making ceramic cups.”

Hiking, mountain climbing, kayaking...he sure looked fit. Not to mention, those things sounded like fun, even if possibly dangerous.

“Do you think I could do those things with you?” I asked, hesitant, but I figured if he was wanting to do the things I liked, I may as well ask him in return.

“Of course. You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Then in that case, can I kiss you?” I joked, though it seemed to come out of nowhere. However much I meant it, it was out in the open now.

“Of course. Would you like to do it here, or at your apartment?”

“Err...at my apartment?”

To be honest, I’ve never kissed anyone before. Or been kissed by anyone before. That thought never even crossed my mind and I pretty much figured I’d be fine not having such a thought and continuing on with my life, but dominoes were falling or something like that.

“Let’s go, then,” he stood up and motioned for me to head toward the door. In a hurry, I chugged down my coffee.

I should probably brush my teeth first. Coffee breath probably isn’t a good taste. Then again, would he want to brush his teeth. Should we just use the same toothbrush? Or maybe he packed one with him.

When we shoved our way through the door of my apartment, those questions were erased from my mind.

“I’ve actually never kissed anyone before...I know, in my thirties and…” he put his finger on my lips and made a “shh” sound.

“Relax. I’ll take the lead,” he lowered his hand, then leaned down and spread his lips against mine. As he released, I wished that he hadn’t. But then the thought of my breath returned to the front of my mind.

“Sorry, uh, hope my breath doesn’t bother you.”

“Does it bother you?” He asked.

“Well…it’s probably good to take care of your teeth. I’m not a dentist, but I do think good health is important in all aspects of one’s health and --”

He pulled out a box of mint chews.

“Here,” he opened the box. I took a couple and popped them into my mouth. On instinct, I bit down on them and chewed, despite knowing that I wouldn’t be prepared for the icy hellfire that was the minty taste. After a couple of seconds of huffing, I looked back at him.

“Okay, I’m good now.”

“There is one more interest I have now,” he decided to pick back up from our conversation at the coffee shop for some final choice words.

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“Supporting you and your dreams.”

Then we kissed again.

So flashforward a year or so and through some sort of miracle, such a dream was realized: we converted the apartment into a clinic and moved upstairs to the apartment directly above. Both of us quit our jobs at the hospital so we could focus on the clinic. Really, I couldn’t have done it without him. Or, maybe I could have, but I’d like to think he gave me that sort of push, y’know? That little “oomf.”

There were many improvements that could have been made, and might be made as time went on, but I liked seeing the genuine attempt to help, and the look on people’s faces when they knew they wouldn’t have to worry about cost...worth it. What’s more, people donated freely, and often. We met several people around the community and even convinced some to play D&D with us. I think the biggest surprise was how much of a hit the game was with the elderly.

Oh, and also, Fern and I became boyfriends. Not really sure how that happened, but it did and I’m cool with it.

On one particular slow day, an interesting thing happened: see, it had been a while since any strange people walked through my door. After a streak of Ves, Blanc, and that weird stalker lady my sister hugged, I figured I’d see the last of any weirdness. In fact, I never even thought to tell Fern about any of the weird visitors (besides Ves, of course). But then as I was doing a solo hunt against deviljo in Monster Hunter on my PC in my office, Fern ran into my office.

“Hey Trent, dear, there’s someone outside the front door saying she’s your cousin,” he informed me. I looked up, a little perplexed.

“I have relatives?” I asked, even though it might have seemed like a pretty dumb thing to say.

Never mind the dumbness, I stopped what I was doing and rushed toward the door only to find a short lady with blonde hair who looked to be in her 20s.

“Hello, can I help you?” I asked her.

“It’s me, your cousin. Demetria?” She folded her arms and scowled.

It took a few seconds to click, and then I remembered.

“Ohhh. You were at my sister’s wedding. I think. Probably.”

“Yeah, I probably most definitely was,” she turned her head and spat on the ground.

Fern stood beside me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Who might this be?” He asked.

“Fern,” I gestured to Demetria. “This is apparently my cousin, Demetria. Demetria, this is Fern, my receptionist-slash-boyfriend.”

“You make me sick,” Demetria growled in response.

“What?” I blinked, and I was quite surprised to hear such a thing. “Are you homophobic?”

“No, I’m not homophobic, I just can’t believe you’re dating someone named after a tree! You were supposed to be the chosen one! You could have broken the cycle!”

That was an odd thing to focus on, but good to know it wasn’t too serious.

“It’s short for Fernando, actually, and technically, Ferns aren’t trees,” Fern explained to her.

“All right, buster,” she pointed up. “But you’re on thin-fucking-ice!”

Then she turned to me.

“Also, grats on being gay, I guess. That’s kinda cool,” she eased up her abrasive tone.

“Well, I might be bi. I don’t know. I haven’t been interested in women before, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be interested in any women. I think the real question we need to ask is, is it gay to be in a relationship with another man?” I suggested. Demetria just looked at Fern, who then looked at me.

“Yeah,” they both said at the same time.

“Well, in any case, what can I do for you, Demetria?” I shifted focus.

“Right. I need you to tell me where Juniper lives.”

“What for?”

“So I can go live with them. Why else?”

That was an odd thing to want to do, and I didn’t even think Juniper and Ves would agree to such a...oh, who was I kidding? Juniper was that kind of person.

“Right. Uh...I guess there’s no harm. I’ll write down their address for you. You got a way to get there?”

She shook her head.

“I make it up as I go. I got here just fine, didn’t I?”

Yeah, that was a good point.

I pulled out my notepad from my shirt pocket as well as a pen and scribbled down the address. After I handed it to her, she squinted and scowled.

“Shit. How am I supposed to read this chicken scratch?”

Right. Doctor.

“Here, I’ll just spell it out for you, so you can just type it in the notepad app on your phone or whatever you have.”

“Oh, great. More work for me to do,” she grimaced, but pulled out her phone and pressed the power button.

“Let’s see...a few missed calls from my mom. Typical. Also, a text from Ray. ‘If you ever consider coming back here, don’t. I don’t want to see you again.’ Gee, wasn’t planning on going back there, but good to see I’m not wanted. Typical...oh, here we go. Notepad.”

I didn’t really know what that bit was about, but I wasn’t about to pry. Wasn’t my business. As soon as I told her the address, she turned her phone back off and put it back in her pocket.

How are you going to know where to find the place if you don’t even look at the address?

Oh well. Juniper and Ves’ problem now.

“See ya,” she waved, then ran off. Fern and I waved too, then Fern turned to me.

“Well, she was interesting,” he remarked.

I shrugged.

“Yeah. It tends to go that way. I never really told you, but besides Ves, there’s been some strange people who showed up here a couple of times. First there was Blanc, this amnesiac who was missing an arm. Juniper decided to make a prosthetic limb for them after learning about Fullmetal Alchemist and we kinda let them live here until they just disappeared one day. Then there was this one stalker Juniper had who wanted her and I to leave town but didn’t really explain why and then Juniper hugged her and she freaked out. Not a clue what that was about, but we never saw her again, so I guess we never needed to leave town.”

“Wow, your sister had a stalker?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, it was horrible, I guess. She seemed rather nonchalant about it, but I could tell it affected her in some ways. She was paranoid for a bit until she met this stalker in person, and then said stalker turned out to be harmless.”

“Still, I would’ve been scared too.”

“Oh yeah, and by the way, Ves is a time traveler. Yeah, you probably think I’m nuts now, but she was originally from the ‘60s and my sister and I found this time travel device that looked like a Nintendo 64 when we moved in. It apparently belonged to Ves’ father. So that time at the coffee shop when she was homeless? Yeah, apparently I met her before that actually and neither of us realized that. Of course, she was a teenager back then and only showed up to take the time travel device back but anyway…”

I realized I started rambling and the more I went on, the more ridiculous things probably seemed.

“...Anyway, you don’t have to believe me, but that was all to say that everyone else who’s ever been in this apartment has been more interesting than me. Including you. Compared to them, I’m kinda just...there.”

He shook his head and placed a firm grasp on my shoulders. He looked me in the eyes.

“No, you are very interesting. How could you not be when you’ve met all of these interesting people? Take it from me: I wouldn’t be interested in you if I didn’t find you interesting.”

“Gee,” I looked away, embarrassed. “Thanks. But also, there’s one more thing: my family has this weird tradition of naming people after trees. Yeah, I’m Trent, but I was named after Treant, this tree monster in D&D. My mom wanted to name me Ent, but apparently couldn’t because the Tolkien estate has the rights to that name.”

“See? Another interesting thing about you!”

“Ha. I’m glad I met you. My mom wasn’t exactly a nice lady, but it was cool that she was into D&D. That’s probably where I got it from. Maybe it’s genetic. Still, neither mine nor my sister’s personalities are like her, although Juniper’s probably closer, though way nicer. It’s hard to explain, but you’d just have to trust me.”

“Every time you tell me something new about yourself, I’m fascinated more and more,” he smiled wide.

We kissed once more before getting back to work. Our day hadn’t yet come to an end.

[amour-de-tous]

Finally, the update on my health

TW: lots and lots and lots of talk about health, and bad health, in particular, below.  So I know I never really updated everyone on What Was (is) Going On With My Health. It’s been a huge mess, and I run out of spoons every day just trying to eat meals at the right times to take my meds.  Shortest version possible (believe it or not): at the end of May last year, 2019, pretty much all my joints and extremities swelled up unbelievably. Like I couldn’t put my feet on the floor because they were so swollen it felt like the skin would split open. I had to sit in a chair all day with my feet elevated on a stool and pillows just to keep them from continuing to swell, and I had to sleep with pillows under my feet to keep them from swelling more during the night. I say “sleep” loosely, because I was getting about an hour to two hours of very interrupted sleep every night. The swelling was so bad that just to leave my chair where my feet were elevated, and go sit at the table to eat meals, my feet would swell so bad it was hard for me to walk from the table back to my chair. Then my hands started going numb and tingly, but not in a “my hands are asleep” kind of way, but more an “this is excruciatingly painful but I still can’t feel my hands” kind of way. I couldn’t close my hands into a fist, and I couldn’t open my hands either, they were frozen in a sort of half curled position. There were several weeks where I couldn’t hold a fork or spoon to feed myself. There were months upon months were I couldn’t brush or wash my hair by myself. I spent months with my hands/wrists/feet/ankles packed in ice every 20 minutes to try to control the swelling. I also had this awful brain fog situation where I couldn’t focus on anything. Even if I had been able to hold a book, tablet, or phone (which I couldn’t, because my hands were so bad), I couldn’t read because I had absolutely zero concentration or focus or comprehension. Even watching TV was almost impossible because I would zone out and come back to awareness and so much time had passed I’d have no idea what was going on. I literally spent three or four months just sitting in that chair in pain, staring at the ceiling, crying on and off. So, so much more below the cut.

I could barely attend my niece and nephews baptism. We were there for as long as it took for the actual service to happen, and while I tried to stay for the meal and gifts and such, I was in such excruciating pain--and using a cane to even be able to walk--that we had to leave early.  My niece’s 4th birthday was a few weeks later, in late June, and again I was there with a cane and in excruciating pain. I’m my niece’s favourite person and having to tell her Auntie couldn’t get down and play with her, or hold her, was terrible. By the end of June, my PCP had run enough tests to be outside his area of knowledge and referred me out to a rheumatologist. The earliest the one I wanted to see could see me was January. This was the first week of July. So I looked around for whoever could see me first and chose them. The soonest someone could see me was, unfortunately, on my birthday last year, July 15th. So I spent my birthday seeing the rheumatologist, being diagnosed with carpal tunnel, tendinitis, and what he suspected was rheumatoid arthritis. Once I left his office, I spent my birthday getting bloodwork (8 vials, yikes, which continued monthly for the remainder of 2019), and then getting fitted for a set of wrist braces that I would have to sleep in for maybe the rest of my life, and wear during the day when the pain was so bad. The rheumatologist literally said to me “well, none of your labwork confirms this and we don’t really know, but we’re gonna treat you as if you had rheumatoid arthritis”. Although he kept running tests to try to confirm the RA, he didn’t look anywhere else to try and figure out what I actually have. So they started me on medication(s), and referred me to occupational therapy and physical therapy. I was so bad when I started going that my PT consisted of sitting in a chair and (trying) to flex my ankles in different directions, and then a lymph massage to try to reduce swelling. My occupational therapy, when I started, consisted of trying to pick up pieces of sponges and put them in a cup. I was so bad that was actually almost impossible for me. They also referred me out to have a nerve conduction test, where they stuck needles all through my arms and electrified them. It was the worst thing ever, let me tell you. Then I got referred to a hand surgeon (who is lovely, actually) for surgery. He decided to hold off on surgery and see if steroid shots would help (they did, to an extent, and I am so grateful for that). Fast forwards through months and months of testing and bloodwork and physical and occupational therapies and medications, and the swelling had reduced enough that I could stand up or walk to the bathroom or eat dinner without swelling up so bad anymore. Being at PT and OT still meant I came home and had to pack my feet and wrists in ice and elevate to take care of the extra swelling, but it was better. Not good, not right, but better. Fast forward more, still, and it’s December. At that point I could stand long enough to help cook dinner, or even run an errand or two before I was in too much pain and had to sit and elevate again. In mid-March they released me from PT and OT. Not because I was better--I still couldn’t (and can’t, now) bend my wrists at all--but because the prescription had run out. I’d basically used all the allotted amount I had. This ended up being alright in the long run, since aside from one trip to the lab for bloodwork, I haven’t left my house since my last day of OT on March 13th, due to Covid. Turns out having an auto-immune disease and being on immunosuppresants makes you REAL high risk for Covid, and I’m just not playing that game. At the beginning of April, I finally got to see the rheumatologist I WANTED to see all along (via video visit! Didn’t even have to leave my house and be exposed!). She’s awesome and is really set on finding an ACTUAL diagnosis for me and not just saying “we don’t know”. Had 9 vials taken from me in her first round of bloodwork, and then she said it looked like it could be Lupus and did more tests. She’s now pretty certain I DON’T have Lupus OR rheumatoid arthritis. I had an appointment with her at the very end of July (video, again), and it turns out she thinks I have something called sarcoidosis. This is going to require a CT scan, for my lungs and heart, to see if the disease is in them. Evidently with this particular auto-immune disease, your body overreacts and encapsulates what it thinks are dangerous foreign bodies (but really are just part of your own immune system) and creates “granulomas” around them. Basically think of an oyster creating a pearl around an invading body, except in this case instead of pearls, I have lumps of stuff that hurts me.  Horrifying to know I have to walk into a hospital at this point in time, of my own free will. Like I said before, aside from one set of bloodwork, I haven’t been exposed or been out where I could be exposed at ALL. All that goes out the window once I walk into a hospital for a CT scan. :\ After the CT scan, depending on the results, there’s other tests I’ll need. Chest x-rays, EKGs, pulmonary function tests, lung biopsies (YIKES) and others. She seems fairly confident that this is the correct diagnosis for me, but wants confirmation and also to see progression of disease.  At any rate, she’ll be changing my medication. Which sucks for so many reasons, not the least of which is I just picked up 360 tablets of it that I now won’t be taking. :| Also the fact that now I get to try a new medication and do the “am I having side effects or am I just anxious” song and dance. She’s also talking about needing to put me on steroids which I am REALLY unhappy about. I suppose it’s better to go on steroids than to die, but I’m still really unhappy about it. In other, related news, I’ve developed hypercalcemia. Which means there’s too much calcium in my blood, which can cause a HOST of other problems. So I’ve been put on a no-dairy, low calcium diet. Do you know how many items have calcium in them? Almost everything, that’s what. Also, they fortify all the non-dairy “milk” products with calcium. They all have as much or MORE calcium than dairy milk. It’s been a NIGHTMARE, to the point where I’m actually afraid of food now. I’m obsessively reading labels and doing research online. “How much calcium is in 81 grams of kiwi, after all?”. Nightmare. Dairy was my #1 love and foodgroup, and having to suddenly figure out all new things to eat and ways to cook while simultaneously being in pain and *exhausted* 24/7 because auto-immune is not. fun. at. all. It’s already all my energy every day to help make, eat, and clean up a meal. I literally have to sit in my chair after a meal with my feet elevated to recover. Now having to spend all this energy on a whole new diet plan is a nightmare. Basically this whole thing has been a MESS. It’s been 15 months, I’ve been being treated for the wrong disease for 14 months, the news I’m getting now is worse than the news that flattened my emotional response all those months ago, I still can’t function, and I can’t work. Oh, yeah. I haven’t played an instrument since May 2019. My whole life revolved around my music, and now I can’t even play to make myself feel better, because my hands don’t work. I’ve also been out of work since then, too: my last concert was April 2019. I haven’t made any money since. But I have had co-pays out the wazoo! Which reminds me that they raised the price on two of my meds, because of course they did. Thanks, congress. This has been really, really hard. My anxiety has skyrocketed through this, and my depression isn’t doing much better. Although physically I’m not as bad as I was, I’m nowhere near normal, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to my normal again, either. The best I’m hoping for at this point is to be able to eat calcium again someday, to not have my organs eaten up by this disease, and to continue existing. It’s been exhausting. It really, really has.  That’s not to mention the added stress and anxiety over Covid, and the fact that neither mom nor I can even go to a grocery store because of my high-risk status. We’re averaging getting groceries about once a month right now. It’s super fun now because I have to read the label on EVERYTHING but Aldi doesn’t post their nutrition labels online and!!! That means I have to either guess or not get things! Great!  All this to say that I miss being on tumblr. I miss all my friends here. I miss talking to you all and being able to laugh with you and geek out. Things have been really hard for me (and there are multitudes I haven’t included in here; even if my hands would allow that much typing, I’d probably hit a character limit. Just: I miss you all. I love you. I’ve been a wreck, but I think of you all often. <3

[13-reasons-ideas]

Finding Peace In Another Part 19

A/N: T/W: Discussion of drug addiction and dating violence. This chapter is coming out a few days early and I’m sorry for the delay, I've been really busy with school. I hope everyone is coping well with the virus and isn't going to stir crazy. Also note that this is a work of free fiction and as such I’m not sticking to exact US immigration protocol. Much love!

A few weeks after my dinner with Scott, things were going well. His suspicions were quelled, Monty and I were good and there were no lingering issues with me hanging out with Scott. Since things had calmed down some, I decided to partake in my new favourite pastime. Recently I started surprising Justin at Monet’s after his shifts.

“Hey Justin, can I get peach tea and a raspberry scone please?”

“Coming right up. Usual table?”

“Depends, do you have leftovers?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. I’m beginning to think you’re only using me for a baked good fix.”

“Maybe. I do bake as a hobby though, so its definitely more that I like you.”

He laughed as I took my drink and wandered over to the table. I people watched while he finished his shift.

“So, how are things with you?” I asked, casually after he sat down.

“You know, things are going. Clay is kind of oblivious to things, mom and dad are trying to judge what they should and shouldn’t push me on. The usual stuff. You?”

“Yeah. Things are going with me too. Dad still occasionally pops in town for a few days before going to wherever he needs to again. Still acts like I don’t essentially live on my own. I think he’s going to be in town for like two weeks sometime soon so that will be interesting.”

“Oh?” He asked, surprised. “Interesting how?”

I had to be careful how I answered. Man, this hiding our relationship thing is getting hard. “Well, he could decide to actually parent me. I’m an adult though so that could cause problems. May end up being a very silent couple of weeks.”

“Sounds like a trip.” He said, laughing.

“Justin. The last time he was home for any length of time, he told me to go look for a job.”

“Uh, why?”

“I have no idea. I can’t even legally work here. Dad’s work did something with the paperwork or something because I am still in high school. I literally can’t work, even if I wanted to.”

“I know. That makes no sense. Could tell him to send you home really.” He said, jokingly. There was a skepticalness to his tone that seemed to indicate he was nervous for my answer.

“What? No. I have finally finished settling in and have begun to think of Evergreen County as my second home. Alberta will always be my home, but that doesn’t mean I want to move back. I still don’t understand your reluctance for universal healthcare but that’s fine. Technically it hasn’t been long enough to be removed from Alberta Healthcare, but I’m not about to go to the trouble of going all the way home to deal with something that can be dealt with here. Dad haggled and made them give him really good insurance to move here and give up the free healthcare.”

“Okay good. Because we like you and don’t want you to leave.”

We talked about some school stuff for a while before I noticed him start to seem a little restless. I knew about his addiction issues and we talked about it often. “Hey, you still with me Justin?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry what were we talking about?”

“Math test, but that’s not important. How are you doing right now?” I asked, subtly referencing the possible cause of his restlessness.

He sighed before answering, “I’m doing okay I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We can go for a walk if you’re not comfortable talking here.”

After a moment he nodded. I got up and went to order us two coffees to go while he waited, trying to organize his thoughts.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Your usual?”

I rolled my eyes at him. Obviously.

We left the shop and wandered around a bit before he broke the silence. “It’s just harder than I expected it to be. Even with going to meetings, it’s hard to manage sometimes.”

“I get it. Have you talked to your sponsor at all?”

“I call him every afternoon to check in but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And I want to talk to Jess about it, but I don’t want to scare her or push her away. And I want to talk to mom and dad about it but I don’t want them to be mad or….”

“Or what Justin?”

“Or kick me out or something? I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, but I hear you and I understand what you mean.” We sat on a park bench and people watched for a while. “You should tell Jess. Trust me when I tell you she is probably going to figure something out sooner or later.”

He looked at me in surprise, “You…?”

“No, not me. My ex-boyfriend was a prescription drug addict. Percocet was his drug of choice. He was in quasi-recovery, still drank and smoked weed so not actually trying stay sober, when we started dating. It wasn’t pills though so I wasn’t going to push the issue. But as time went on, he started using again and tried to hide it from me. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out. Things got… bad towards the end. Not that you would ever… just. I knew.”

“Oh. I-I didn’t know. Are you like, okay?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t that bad. If we stayed together it would have been worse, but thankfully we ended up breaking up after he went on a bender and I said enough was enough. But we aren’t talking about me, we are talking about you.”

“Do you think she would understand?”

“I think so. It might be hard at first, but I think she will. And she needs to hear it from you, not figure it out on her own like I did or be told by someone else. That will make it easier.”

“And my parents?”

“If you want, I can go with you to talk to them.”

“I think that would be good, yeah.”

“What do you want to do Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you need? Do you need to go to more meetings? Do you need someone to take you to meetings? Do you need to consider going to rehab? What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I know I need help. I just don’t know where to start. Why?”

“Because I want to help you. You’re my friend. And your parents will ask, so maybe thinking about it before you talk to them would be helpful. If not though, I understand. And if you need anything, just call me. Okay? Day or night.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks Becca.”

We chatted randomly for a while again before calling it a night and parting ways.

The next day went smoothly as well. At least until lunch that is. The guys were goofing off as usual and since Scott had seemed to quell his suspicions at least for now, Monty and I didn’t have to walk on eggshells as much around him anymore. Bailey called me about halfway through lunch. It wasn’t unusual for him to call me in the middle of the day, given he had a spare after lunch, but he didn’t usually call and then text and then call again. Odd. I hope everything is okay….

“Someone’s popular? Hot date you forgot about tonight Becca?” Garrison joked. I wasn’t looking at Monty but I knew his eye twitched ever so slightly, as it did whenever someone made a comment like that.

“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever Garrison.” I said, distracted as my phone began to ring again. Something is going on. I answered it at the table rude I know, but I don’t think a bunch of teenage boys care much about table etiquette. “Hey Bailey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Hey so I didn’t want to get involved or get you involved since you aren’t here to defend yourself, but I feel like you need to know. And it’s my problem because you’re my best friend.”

“Need to know what?” I put my hand up to quiet the boys down a bit.

“James has been… saying stuff. About you. And your relationship.”

“Uh okay? Why is that a problem?”

“Because of what he has been saying and what it involves regarding your relationship.”

“What has he been saying Bailey?” I felt my cheeks begin to warm and Monty and Zach’s eyes on me.

“He’s been telling our friends uh… intimate details about your erm… private relationship.”

I laughed in disbelief. That little prick. I took a deep breath to centre myself, though it did little to quell my growing anger. The table grew silent as I started to vibrate, “well Bailey. You tell James that if he keeps running his damn mouth, I will get on the next plane home, find him, and shove my foot so far up his ass he will taste it.” I heard Bryce let out a laugh and glared at him threateningly.

“Okay. Is it wrong that I would pay to watch that? Because that would be great.”

“Bailey.”

“Sorry, just trying to break the tension.”

“Has the little slime ball been saying anything else?”

“I mean, he complains about the end of your relationship, which I don’t like but that’s not unusual.”

“Remind him that I kept my mouth shut about a lot of shit he did, to protect him. And remind him about the little agreement we made when we broke up. I may not live there anymore, but my phone plan has international calling and I am on very good terms with the school resource officer.”

“What agreement Rebecca?”

“The agreement that keeps his dumb ass out of jail for various things that I cannot talk about right now. And certainly not with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have money to bail you out of jail and the exchange rate is terrible right now. That’s why.”

“O-okay then. Talk later?”

“Yeah, I might call tonight but if not, later this week. Depends on my plans for the evening.” I heard a bell on the other end of the line.

“Gotta run, love you Becky.”

“Love you too Bear.”

When I looked up, the table was staring at me, slack jawed. Scott looked the least surprised out of the group, considering he had a little more insight than everyone else regarding my last relationship. “What?”

“What the fuck was that?” Matt asked.

“My ex was talking about shit he shouldn’t have been talking about.”

“Okay we got that much but… what was that?” Zach asked.

“You’re so small. How can such a small person have that kind of anger in them?” Garrison added.

“Could have something to do with people not watching where the hell they walk and stepping on me, or it could have something to do with my tolerance for bullshit getting lower and lower the older I get.”

“But you hang out with us. So, I don’t see how that is possible? That was kind of hot though.” Scott asked.

“No offence, but I’ve met second graders who exude more bullshit than you guys do all put together. Well if I knew that’s all it would take to turn you on Scott, I would have told Bailey to call me during lunch a long time ago.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Hurtful but fair. What can I say, it’s the simple things. Are you going to eat your apple?”

“Depends Scotty. Are you going to take it anyway?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. Since I don’t get a choice anymore, knock yourself out.” I chucked my apple at him, half hoping he would miss. He never did.

Zach and Monty shared a look. Still haven’t grasped subtlety yet I see. “Do you want my carrot sticks Monty? I’m not very hungry.”

“Why?”

“Big breakfast.”

“Right. Sure, not one to say no to free food. Even if they are someone’s leftovers.”

“They aren’t leftovers you meatball. I cut them this morning. I had green beans last night.”

“Do you eat other vegetables Becks?” Monty asked, teasingly, taking a bite of the stick.

“Dude, chew your fucking food.” Bryce chided.

“Why? What is this? Interrogate Rebecca day or something? Eat your damn carrot sticks.”

There was a beat of silence, where the boys sat with perplexed looks on their faces. Zach, bless him, jumped in with some game related question that I tuned out as it went over my head. I’m dating a sports player. I never said I understood any of it. The heat seemed to be off of us again, though I could feel Scott glancing my way every now and then while I tried to brush up on some geometry before math class.

I had full intentions to lessen Scott’s once again raised suspicions, so instead of waiting for Montgomery a minute or two after the lunch bell as usual, I merely waived goodbye to my friends and ran to math. I was the first one there so I pulled out the book I was reading between classes.

“Good book?” Cyrus asked, startling me as he sat down.

“God! You scared me. Yeah, I have read it a few times though.”

“Cool. Did you want to come hang out tonight? Mack is going to Chad’s place to talk boys or something.”

“Maybe, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Dad is making baked ziti for dinner. You can have a corner piece.” He bribed.

“A corner piece of ziti you say? Well in that case, my schedule is clear as day.”

“It’s a plan.”

Mr. Daniels started class a few minutes later. Will geometry ever get easier?

I met Cyrus at my locker after school and yelled a goodbye to my friends, who were having an animated discussion about who would in a fight, someone I had never heard of or some other guy I’ve never heard of. There was a chorus of ‘byes’ and grunts of acknowledgement. We parted ways and met again at his house.

“Hey Andrew.” I greeted his dad.

“Hey kids. How was school?”

“It was school dad. The establishment and crap.”

“I see you had a good day Cyrus.”

“At Liberty? Sure.”

“I had a pretty good day. I told my friend at home to tell my ex where he can stick his opinion. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, that’s okay thanks though Becca.”

“Oh this I need to hear.” Cyrus said, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

“Pass me a Diet and I’ll tell you.” After opening my drink, I told the father and son the story of the lunch phone call.

His dad raised his brow and muttered something about punk ass little shits who don’t know their cocks from their feet.

“That is awesome dude. You should have told him to Facetime you when he told this James dickwad.”

“That would require me seeing the asshat’s stupid face. So no sadly.”

“Fair point. We are going to my room to do some homework Dad. Call when dinner is ready? I bribed her with a corner piece so save one for her.”

“For sure kids. Have fun.”

With that, we ran off to his room, but we didn’t work on the non-existent homework. Instead, we went through his records and Spotify account and argued about which to play. “Just go to a radio if it’s going to be an issue Cyrus.”

“No no. You’re my guest, you choose.”

“I already chose and you said no.”

“Fine. Defy it is. You’re lucky I like you.”

“Mhmm. Just play the damn album Cy.”

He laughed as he hit play and the sounds of Of Mice & Men filled the room.

“You better not have been lying about the corner piece man.”

“Lie to you about dad’s cooking? I would never.”

“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

We joked around for a while before dinner. Andrew called us down later and as promised, I had my crispy corner slice of ziti.

“Thank God it’s Friday. I want this week to be over. Thank you for dinner again.”

“Everything okay Becca? It’s no problem.” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, it’s just been busy. Lots of assignments and stuff.” Too much work and not enough boyfriend time.

“Well you have the weekend to relax at least.” Cyrus pointed out, waving his fork.

“If you don’t stop that, you’ll poke your eye out one of these days. Are you going to the game next Saturday, Cyrus?” “Maybe. Not really my scene.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We can not care about the sport together. It’s high school. You only go once.”

“Fine, but you are buying me popcorn.”

“Deal.” I said and shook his hand.

Andrew made sure to send me home with leftovers and a standing invitation to come for dinner any time at the end of the night.

[staytheb]

Errands

Pairing: SF9′s Youngbin x OC [Seul] Genre: slice of life, slight fluff Word Count: 4,925 Summary: Seul runs errands believing she’ll get a job, but finds out that she’s doing them for her friend that was supposed to do them. Still though, a job may still be in the talks after she finishes the errands earlier than expected. part two: Acting Secretary (somewhat)

Warning: none, swear words lol

so... this is new, but not really. i had wrote this with another idol in mind like a year or so back. i changed it with Youngbin instead and gave my sister what she wanted. lol anyways, this was supposed to be like an idea for a chapter fic, but i don’t have any interest in doing that and why this story is the way that it is. i may or may not actually make a chapter story, but shall see in the future. i just didn’t want this written thing to be left hidden and forgotten. other than that, happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

After dropping Yeon at her new work place, Seul dropped off her three year old daughter, Jangmi, with her usual babysitter, Yuna. Yuna was also a good friend of the sisters as well as a fellow mother. Seul could always depend on her for help, especially on such short notice.

"Thanks for watching Jangmi, Yuna." Seul thanked the older woman.

"No problem, Seul. Besides, the boys just love Jangmi like their own sister." Yuna commented as she watched her oldest son leading Jangmi in a random game.

"Yeah, Wonjin’s a great older brother and Jangmi just loves baby Jiho, too."

"Oh, I know. She loves cooing at him. Anyways, how's the job hunting going?"

"Um, okay? Just a bit rough."

"It's because of Seokwon, huh?"

Seokwon was Seul's ex-boyfriend and the father of her daughter. The separation was a bit messy and quite complicated, but Seul eventually pulled through. It was Seokwon who was having a fit about it and obstructing her life. He would contact other companies to prevent Seul from working with them when he found out she was working under whatever company she would have applied to. It was so that she would be force to return to work for him again and Seul wasn't having any of that. She would never let that man control her life and happiness ever again. Even if it meant having to constantly look for employment every few weeks or months.

"If I was still working I would have gotten you through and or pull some strings. I mean I could still ask Kyungtae if you wanna work for his company?"

"Nah, it's all good. Besides, I don't think I could ever work for Kyungtae with how he manages."

"I know. I don't blame you."

"Yeah, but luckily, Yeon is doing well and she hasn't messaged me yet."

"Yeah, I never pictured her as an office lady."

"Me either and neither did she."

Seul let out a sigh remembering what she had told herself to do today.

"Alright, Yuna, I gotta go, but do let me know about Jangmi if she gets too much."

Yuna cast her an understanding smile while patting her back.

"No worries, Seul. Get yourself a job first and just leave Jangmi to me in the mean time."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, hon."

~~~~~~~~~

Seul had gotten back on the road when her phone rang. It wasn't her sister or friend, but another friend who was a male. She answered through the bluetooth.

"Aren't you supposed to be working, Dawon?" Seul asked the caller as the male chuckled. "I am, Seul."

"Uh huh. Right."

"Yeah, yeah, but back to the subject of working, that's why I'm calling you."

"What do you want? I'm out driving looking for job openings that isn't related to my ex."

"I've heard and know that it's been impossible since he has such huge connections."

"Unfortunately."

"Anyways, that's why I have a proposition for you which for now involves you driving, but not looking further for a job."

"You couldn't just say that you know of an opening for me to apply for?"

"That's no fun. Anyways, the first thing I need you to do is go to Banana Boutique and the rest I'll send you in a text in a minute."

"Okay. That's it? Does this job pay well because I really do need the money as soon as possible."

"It does, but you'll get a fat bonus if you can complete everything on the list I've sent you."

"How much of a bonus are we talking about here?"

"Three times than I would make in a two weeks."

"Dang. That's more than what I would make if I worked with Seokwon again."

"Yeah, but it's better because you won't have to work with Seokwon again."

"Shoot. I'm in, but why so much?"

"Boss' orders and he won't tell me."

"Okay then. I'm down"

"There is a catch."

"Which is?"

"You'll need to be back before twelve-forty-five though for anything to count to get the job."

Seul glanced at the time on her dashboard and rolled her eyes.

"Which is like less than four hours. That's a lot of time."

"It may seem like so, but it's not."

"Then is it even worth it?"

"I know you can do it! Seul, I swear. It's worth it."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. See you soon, Dawon."

"See you soon and good luck!"

"Thanks and bye."

Seul ended the call with a chuckle as she signaled left to head on over to Banana Boutique. While waiting at the light she received Dawon's detailed message and was confused by the name, Youngbin Kim, and the credit card information that appeared in the beginning of the text. She learned that it would be the person she would be running errands for and his account information to make all of the purchases through before scrolling down to see a weird to-do list.

"Go to Banana Boutique. Buy a business casual outfit along with heels and accessories." Seul read aloud with a raised eyebrow. "Afterwards go to Tangerine Beauty Salon. Get hair and makeup done."

Seul scoffed at the list and wondered if this was even work related, but she trusted Dawon on this despite his playful personality. So she was gonna go with it for now as she really did need the money and that Yeon couldn't be the only one working. Seul scanned the rest of the long list and realized that it was all over the place. If she went based on how it was written then it would have her be driving all across town and even backtracking which would make her waste more time and gas. Quickly, Seul scanned her surrounding to pull off to the side and park for a while.

~~~~~~~~~

After finding a parking spot to rest for a bit, Seul copied the list that Dawon had sent her and put it into her notes. While re-reading everything she rearranged the list so that it would have a better flow for her to complete everything on it without wasting time or backtracking and to even get that triple bonus easily. It also meant that she wouldn't go to Banana Boutique or Tangerine Beauty Salon until nearly the end of the to-do list. To which she didn't mind at all as it would make her look fresh and put together. She finished the new to-do list within ten minutes while getting back on the road again.

The first place that Seul had gone to after the new arrangement was to a dry cleaners where she only had to wait for two minutes. Then she went next door to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription that was already ready for pick-up. After that Seul drove down a few streets to the home improvement store to pick up some paint and home decor that this Mr. Kim wanted. Seul also realized after finishing three errands off the list of twenty-something she had no trouble in stating his card information without the actual plastic card being present in front of these businesses. She wondered how often this guy came that it went this easy.

Seul dismissed the idea and continued to the next item on the list. She drove for awhile before she found the place she was looking for. It was a toy store and besides purchasing the several items that this Young person wanted, she had also purchased three stuffed animals for her daughter and sister. As for Youngbin's belongings several of them she could pick up and take with her like some of the sports balls and smaller items while the rest of the things were to be shipped out as they were either too big to fit in her vehicle or weren't in stock at the store itself.

~~~~~~~~~

Seul let out a tired sigh upon placing the two small bags from a jeweler's shop she had just visited inside her car. She was happy that she had a vehicle to accommodate all the things she was stashing into her car for this supposed job. If not, she would have declined Dawon's proposition for it. She just wondered what kind of person this Youngbin Kim was as she couldn't help but imagined the guy upon doing his errands. He either seemed too lazy to pick up his stuff or the fact that he was super busy and had no time for minor inconveniences.

Then again, someone that purchased toys couldn't be all that bad either. Maybe he had a child and a wife, but work was constantly demanding that it didn't leave him time to do such small errands. Or he could just be showering his loved ones with material things to make up for his lack of presence. Who knows what it could be as it could seriously be anything. It really gave her some insight, but then again she knew that she couldn't just based everything off of some list. Seul usually knew the person a bit better once she actually met them, but for now she would just let it be.

Anyways, Seul started her car and drove to the nearest grocery store so she can buy this Youngbin person some groceries before having to go to another location and buy some house cleaning supplies as well for his home. After this errand she would have two more stops to complete and she would be good on time and closer to a job. The second to last stop would be taking a majority of all the items to this apartment complex before heading to Dawon's work place with the other things on the list to be given to his boss. Of course before heading to the work place she would have to stop by some restaurant to pick up the boss' lunch.

Still, Seul was seriously confused as this seem more like a personal errand run that the person himself could do it, but she was doing it instead for a job opening. Nevertheless, Seul reminded herself that it was for the bonus and that she badly needed the job as soon as possible. Then again, she was wondering if others were doing this just as she was and it would be pointless since it meant that this Youngbin Kim person was getting things done more than once and spending a lot more than needed. Seul shook the thoughts away as it didn't matter to her since it wasn't her money or items that she'll be dealing with.

Anyways, once she got done grocery shopping she headed towards Water Apartments which to be honest was a high-end luxury apartment complex building that she for sure wouldn't be able to afford in her entire life. Even less of knowing someone personally who actually lived here. Anyhow, just like using this guy's name and his information to do the errands, Seul was instantly assisted in having the items transported easily to the guy's apartment by a few of the staff members after she informed them where she had to take them.

Seul herself took care of putting away the groceries and cleaning supplies. Upon seeing the apartment, Seul knew for sure that this Youngbin Kim guy was indeed a bachelor and had no significant other whatsoever. She wondered if Dawon's boss even lived here as there was practically no food in the fridge or the cabinets. Neither were there any picture frames or personal touches to the overall place when she had put away the bagged clothing and the prescription when she entered the main bedroom to lay them on the bed. It seemed like it was in a presentation mode to be shown to potential buyers for the place. Then again, Seul assumed the guy must be a minimalist or could have just recently moved in hence the to-do list and a family must be on the way to add those touches.

Shaking the thoughts away and getting back to focus, Seul resumed putting the things away. Once everything was settled, Seul took photos of the places where the items were now settled as it was required of her to do so since it proved that she actually completed the errands and sent the images to Dawon. Seul returned to her car and went to the post office to drop off some of the packages she had done earlier before heading back towards Dawon's workplace to finish out the rest of the list. She felt proud as she had shaved off basically an hour. Everything felt like it would be smooth sailing from here on out.

~~~~~~~~~

After quickly purchasing a basic yet cute outfit from Banana Boutique with minimal accessories to complement and visiting Tangerine Beauty Salon to style the way she preferred to look, Seul arrived at Hot Potato to pick up Youngbin's meal along with her own with less than an hour to spare. Luckily she had called in earlier to make an order so that when she arrived she just had to do a pick up. So when she entered the restaurant she was checked out by her cousin upon walking up to the counter for pick-ups.

"Oh ho ho. You're looking good." Kwangjin complimented. "A hot date? A new candidate father figure for Jangmi?"

Seul rolled her eyes.

"No, Kwangjin. It's for a job. Anyways, I have a group pick-up order."

"Oh, so it was for you."

"Mmhmm."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Kwangjin momentarily left to fetch Seul's order before returning shortly with four bags in hand along with three drinks.

"So who's the other order for if not you or Yeon?" Kwangjin asked while setting the items on the counter.

"My future boss. I'm picking up something for his lunch today, too."

Seul held her phone out for Kwangjin to read.

"Anyways, the buldak with both the rice cake and steamed egg is for my future boss. The rest is mine which I'll pay separately."

Kwangjin was inputting Young's card info before recognizing it soon afterwards.

"Your future boss is Youngbin Kim?"

"Possibly. Why?"

"Oh, well, he's a friend of mine. I could put in a good word for you like I did for Yeon."

"Yeah you should've done that in the first place like you did with Yeon."

Kwangin chuckled as he recalled that situation.

"I'm pretty sure she still wishes to be working here though."

"True, but she can't stand working with you though."

"Not my fault I'm here everyday."

"True, but you keep messing with her schedules and that's why she didn't want to work here again."

"Haha, yeah, that's right. Anyways, Youngbin didn't have any job offerings so that's why I didn't say anything. Also you don't want to work here either."

"Oh okay, and yeah true about working here. Although it isn't bad or anything."

"Because you just don't want me as your boss and me messing up your schedule."

"That too, but are you done inputting the info yet?"

"I am, but why not make him pay for it all?"

"Because I'm not like that."

"Yeah, I know, but here."

Kwangjin handed his cousin the receipt for Youngbin's meal and rejected Seul's card.

"Yours is on the house."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Kwangjin cast her a smug look while handing the bags over to her along with the three drinks he knew were her and Yeon's favorite.

"I didn't order any drinks." Seul declared with a confused expression.

"I know. It's on me, too. Enjoy and good luck in getting the job."

"Thanks and you better not be calling him to get me in without my own merit."

"I would never do that."

"Mmhmm. Bye."

"Later."

Seul took her things and waved him off while taking a sip of her Green Tea Latte of the three drinks that her cousin gave her.

~~~~~~~~~

When Seul arrived to Dawon's workplace, her eyebrows furrowed upon recognizing the streets and the buildings before heading towards the underground parking lot she had dropped off her sister earlier today.

"Does Dawon work here, too?" She mumbled as she found a parking space not that far from the elevators. "Maybe I could give Yeon her meal while I'm at it."

She had messaged Dawon earlier that she was almost done, but didn't let him know she was here while making sure her appearance was presentable. She did send her sister a message about having her lunch and to let her know where to meet up. As for Dawon he had already messaged her about what to do at the front desk and where to go from there so she figured she could surprise him. Seul got out of her car and opened the truck of the vehicle. She pulled out her blue collapsible wagon and unfolded it for usage while setting it on the concrete floor. This was a nifty item when going to places with Jangmi.

Seul placed the food and the items that Youngbin had wanted inside the wagon. Like the documents he had left at his apartment along with two succulents of nine he wanted to be at the office for some reason. As well as some other things like books, caps, and a Janggi set. She even placed her drinks in the pockets on the outside of the compartment before shutting and locking up her car. Seul placed her other bag over her shoulders while heading to the elevator.

Seul arrived on the seventh floor of the B building after checking in with a Park Haeyoon at the receptionist desk and obtaining her visitor's pass. She arrived on the floor and pulled her little wagon behind her in search of Dawon as he didn't appear like he said he would. She was given curious looks by the workers on the floor and knew it was because of the wagon, but no one questioned her about it. Seul was gonna ask one of the staff if they knew where Dawon was, but came upon a familiar face instead.

"Inseong?"

Inseong met Seul's gaze as it lit up with recognition.

"Seul! Wow, what are you doing here?"

He enveloped her into a friendly hugged before noticing her wagon. He gave her a knowing look once he pulled away.

"Did Dawon tell you there was a possible job opening and that you had to do all of these errands for our boss because he'll pay like triple the amount?"

"Um, yeah, how'd you know?"

"Because Dawon was supposed to be the one to do that. Not you."

"Excuse me?"

Inseong held back a laugh upon knowing how his friend was going to react while also taking a few steps back just in case Seul got violent.

"You're joking, right?" Seul asked with a not amused expression. "Because I didn't just waste my time to do his job for him for nothing, Inseong."

She then motioned at her whole attire.

"I also didn't spend money to get new clothes, my hair, and makeup done either."

"I know, Seul, I know, but..."

"Just lead me to his ass and don't worry, I won't cause a scene. I'm not like that."

Inseong chuckled at his friend's words before leading them both to Dawon's work desk.

~~~~~~~~~

"Don't worry, sir. Everything will be done before the allotted time." Dawon spoke into the phone when Seul and Inseong arrived in front of his desk.

Dawon's back was turned away from them and wasn't aware he had visitors. It wasn't until he turned around like he wasn't at work, but at home in mid-conversation that he took notice of his friends.

"Oh, hey." Dawon said in a slow manner as his eyes glance from Inseong to Seul and back and forth totally forgetting that he was supposed to be on the phone with his boss and discussing important matters.

"I'll leave it between the two of you." Inseong said with a playful tone while patting Seul's back in a fair warning to be calm as possible.

"So... uh, Seul," Dawon began nervously while unconsciously placing the phone on his desk and not back into its proper place, "How's your day going?"

"Pretty well until I learned the truth about you using me to do your boss' errands for you."

Her dark eyes bore into his as Dawon's averted his gaze to something behind her and looked down. He noticed the blue wagon and let out a nervous chuckle as he returned his gaze back on to his friend.

"Oh yeah?" Seul mused with a wry smile. "So this job opening you mentioned was just a lie for me to get it done for you so that you wouldn't get in trouble for not doing them?"

"What? No. It's totally real. Look at you. All dressed up thanks to Mr. Kim's credit card information. Now you can have an official interview with him."

"That's not what you told me on the phone when I agreed to this supposed errand run, Dawon."

"True, but I did tell you that it would be worth it."

"How? Your boss doesn't even know what you did or that I'm even here."

"True and I'm sure I could put in a good word for you."

"That's not how I roll, Dawon, and you know that."

"Okay true, and yes, Seul, I know but for now, most importantly, do you have his lunch?"

Dawon stood up from his seat and maneuvered around his desk to stand before his friend eagerly.

"I do," Seul answered with a weird smile that Dawon couldn't interpret, "But I'm not giving it to you."

"What? Why not?"

"Because your dumb ass used me when you could've done it yourself."

"Seul, you don't know how busy I was today to do any of the things he wanted me to do."

"Inseong told me that you had a whole two weeks to complete all of that minus the meal. You made me do all of that in less than four hours."

"I know, I know, but just let me off the hook this one time. I'll pay you back in a big way. Just wait and see."

"You do realize you've done this multiple times on multiple occasions, right? Not just with me, but with Yeon, too."

"Yes, bu-"

Seul didn't let him finish as she continued her rant.

"Besides, Kwangjin knows him, too. They're good friends. Now I feel like a fool because Kwangjin believes this was legit as I mentioned this errand thing in passing. Thanks to you I wasted my whole morning when I could've gotten something more important done with my time."

"I'm sorry, Seul. I really am."

"Your sorry isn't gonna do anything for me, Dawon. Besides, you're not the one that had to pick up and drop off all of his stuff at his apartment. I even had to figure out which of his succulents he wanted here in the office when he had so many. I'm not even his personal assistant, but I still did all of this without knowing him or even having this job now."

Before Dawn could counter her words he was interrupted by his boss who overheard the whole conversation on the phone and exited his office. Youngbin was curious about Dawon's female friend who happened to know Kwangjin as well. Even though Dawon was Youngbin's subordinate, he was also a good friend of his outside of working hours. Maybe a more dependable person to take care of things he nor his other subordinates couldn't have time for be given to this woman instead.

"If you're looking or a job, then how would you like to be my personal assistant?" Youngbin asked from behind Dawon as the duo's attention turned towards Youngbin whose attention was set on Seul more than Dawon.

"What do you say, Miss...?"

~~~~~~~~~

"Well then, Miss Lee, you're hire." Youngbin informs her after interviewing Seul.

Before the interview they all had their lunch and Seul sat with Dawon at his desk eating it since she found it awkward if she ate alone or at the worker's cafeteria. She did meet up with Yeon, but her sister had to return to work immediately as she had this business and sales report to write for her own boss already on the first day of work. Luckily, Dawon was able to inform her about his company, the department, and his colleagues, but still Seul wondered if it was all a joke or not. It turned out that it wasn't and the interview lasted less than an hour. Seul felt a little odd about it when Youngbin told her that she just got the job soon afterwards.

"Just like that? You didn't ask to see my resume or asked me about my past work history, Mr. Kim."

"Mmhmm. While I ate my lunch I reviewed Dawon's information he had given to me of you. Although it was quite limited, but it was enough to make the judgment. The skills and management you've demonstrated with what I've seen so far with what you've done with the to-do list that he gave you earlier this morning impresses me. I see that it will correlate well with the position of being my personal assistant."

Youngbin then sifted through the images on his iPad and pointed out the things that he was most curious about that he got from Dawon to send to him while they all had lunch so he could have a heads up on Seul's competence.

"I noticed that I have a receipt from Hot Potato for my lunch, but the price is way too low for what I saw you brought in when we ate lunch. I also noticed there isn't a receipt for Banana Boutique nor one for Tangerine Beauty Salon although these locations was more for your attire than for me. Is there a reason for those, too?"

Seul nodded with an expression indicating that it was obvious.

"Yeah. I used my own money at the boutique and salon since it was something I was picking out and that you shouldn't even be paying for these in the first place. As for Hot Potato, a close friend covered the cost."

"I see."

Youngbin closed down his tablet, set it aside, and looked at Seul with a calm demeanor.

"Since you'll be working for me, Miss Lee, any inconveniences befallen on you should be my responsibility as your boss from now on."

Youngbin partially turned to open a drawer to the right of him before finding what he was looking for. He scribbled some things onto the small pad before ripping a piece of it from its place and held it out for Seul to take.

"This is a reimbursement for the boutique and salon that you spent with your own money."

Seul declined with a polite smile.

"It's fine, Mr. Kim. You don't need to reimburse me for it."

Youngbin slightly frowned while retracting his hand and placed the pad and slip aside. He then went through one of his other drawer once again before finding what he was looking for. He faced the woman again and gently set a black card before her and slid it closer for her to take.

"Then this card will be for your own personal use among other things to do your job efficiently without any hindrance. There's no limit and I wouldn't have to write you a check for reimbursement each time you pay out of your own pocket."

Seul stared at the black card intrigued, but made no move to take it. She glanced back up at Youngbin who was already watching her as he motioned with his hand for her to take the card.

"Please, take it. It's yours while you're working for me."

Seul still regarded him a bit.

"And when I stop working for you in the future?"

"I can just cut that line out with ease."

"I see."

Youngbin leaned forward and pushed the card even closer for Seul to take. Seul continued to gaze at the small plastic item, but didn't take it once again. One side of Youngbin's lips quirked up amused before relaxing back in his chair while gazing at her calmly.

"The card can be used freely without a pin or inputting my information if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried about your card, Mr. Kim. I just don't see why you would entrust me with your money so casually just like hiring me so easily."

Seul's cool demeanor raised the corners of Youngbin's lips higher before he responded back.

"Because you've proven yourself to be trustworthy and responsible, Miss Lee. That's why I've hired you as I have no problem with giving you that card to further build the trust and reliability I see in you thus far."

Seul kept quiet as she contemplated the whole thing in her head more before slowly nodding in agreement.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Good. So when's the earliest you can start, Miss Lee?"

Seul didn't hesitate to take the card this time around while matching his gaze.

"As soon as possible, Mr. Kim."

"Perfect. You'll officially start after the weekend on Monday as your first day on the job. Today we'll count it as an orientation and I'll have Dawon show you around the buildings so you can familiarize yourself of the surroundings. He'll also fill you in about everything else that I'll be unable to do."

Youngbin stood up with Seul following soon after as he led them out of his office.

"Welcome to Marketing of NEOZ Group, Miss Lee."

[blissfulparker]

I felt it, it was perfect→T.H

Parings→ Tom Holland x reader

Summary→ you and tom have a stump in your relationship which causes you both to seek therapists and find a way to fix yourselves again

Warnings→ angst, mentions of drug use, cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of anxiety

A/n→ I’ve had this in my drafts for about two weeks and now I’m finally posting it so here you go and enjoy!! Also yes, the title is from black swan

“Why don’t we start from the very beginning of that’s okay with you, Yes?” The woman asked setting down her phone with the recording app opened, you had twiddled with your shirt, the shirt that tom always—once loved.

“Well,” you take a deep breath looking around the room trying to find the perfect place to start, because that’s what you guys were perfect. “We met at a bar...”

It was true, you met at a bar, a karaoke one to be exact. You were drunk out of your mind singing Beyoncé on stage with your best friends when the boy with the stray curls and beer in his hand caught your eye. He was really the only one paying attention, everyone else was drinking and having their own fun. You still don’t exactly know why he was at a karaoke bar especially when he would hardly ever sing for you. All you could truly remember from that night was getting so drunk and then going home with the boy which would start your whole new life.

“We move in together around a year maybe a year and a half later...” you trailed trying to remember everything, she nodded.

“Right, and is that where things got tough? The year mark?” She asked looking up at you.

“No, god no, we were just starting. We were everyone’s favorite, I mean we were being to become perfect.”

You two were perfect, in the eye of the press, in the eye of your friends, you two were pulled straight out of a fairytail. It was too good to be true, everything comes to a end was all you had to remind yourself, even Perfect things come to an end.

~

“So tom, you said you’ve been feeling worst? Why’s that?” The man asked lighting his cigarette and huffing out smoke, Tom smoked when he got stressed, so of course he pulls out a cig and lit one up. The taste of cigarettes were still bitter, he hated them but they gave him a warmth that he was missing when he was sad.

“We’re lost, I don’t even think were a couple anymore...” he looked down.

There were too many fights, too many. Hell, tom got mad last week that you forgot to take the trash out to the dumpster and you got pissed because he forgot to get strawberries at the store. Children, you guys acted like children. He swore that Sam and Harry acted like this when they were four. He was so shocked yet so angry and he couldn’t tell why. He didn’t know what was happening.

“We haven’t touched each other in weeks, I mean I haven’t even felt what her lips feel like about a month.” He admits, he didn’t want to tell Harrison, he thought Harrison wouldn’t even believe him because he knew how much tom love you, so he was telling the man in front of him right now.

“Well, sometimes this happens, couples get angry and don’t know how to act around each other and it takes time and understanding.” The therapist says, he was right but tom hated that he was right.

“But we’re not married, we’ve only been dating for over a year and I know her and she knows me. I know that happens to married couples who have been together for like 30 years or some shit and get tired of each other.” He admits as he takes in his cigarette and then blows out. The last time he smoked so much was when he was starting to become a true actor, he had big roles and didn’t know how to handle hate and press.

~

“He use to do this thing for me,” You look down and smile at the memories. “Every Sunday he’d get up really early to leave the house and go get coffee from my favorite place, he’d then come back in bed and I’d wake up with hot fresh coffee next to me.” You say and she nods.

“Were you still able to talk good with each other at that point?” She shifted her body and you only rolled your eyes. Not on purpose it was just a point needed to be made.

“Yeah whatever that means. We fight over stupid shit now, last week he yelled at me about trash! I mean to be fair I yelled at him for strawberries. I don’t even know where the anger came from, I can’t blame it on hormones, I don’t know if it’s my stress or his stress on me—“before your could finish she put up her hand.

“What do you mean by his stress?” She asked. She might’ve actually been able to help and all your sessions might add up.

“He’s an actor, he’s gone all the time. When he’s home he wants to be with friends and family which I completely understand but sometimes I feel as if I’m in the corner or if I’m an accessory. When he slides under the sheets at night he doesn’t kiss me nor does he try and touch me like he use to. It feels forced, he’s forcing himself to like me.” You tell her truthfully. You couldn’t help the word vomit at this point.

“I think you’re both sacred.” She sets her clipboard down. “Well, let’s start off with your age. You are both 22 I’m assuming? You’re young and excited to be adults and have all the fun you can before you have to face a bunch of responsibilities. I think you two do love each other, I think that the two of you both worry that one is going to leave.” She explains, everything was starting making sense.

She could’ve been right, or so wrong. When tom came home for the first time back from press he touched you like a starved man, you two fucked in every single place in the flat you could find. Then the two of you fell asleep in your bed and woke up the next morning and did it again. When tom came back for the 5th time it was different, only a hug at the airport and then tom passing out when you got home. That wasn’t perfect, this was no longer perfect.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?” She asked and you snapped out of your thoughts.

“Yes, Yes, Of course. But he acts like he is going to leave or I’m going to leave when all I do is sit and wait until he comes home. I don’t cheat I don’t go out and flirt with other men.” You start to feel yourself heat up. You start to feel the anger you often Times now feel with tom.

~

“You sound like you’re scared.” The man writes down.

“Oh yeah? Of what?” His voice was bitter, if this is how he talke to you he hoped you’d leave him. the man sets down his clipboard and looks tom in the eyes.

“You’re scared of her leaving you—“ tom rolled his eyes and put out his cigarette.

“Bullshit.” He said leaning back in the leather chair.

“Mr. holland hear me out. You leave a lot on press, you’re a young actor with plenty attention on you. She knows that all too well because when you’re out in America selling your movie she’s sitting at home watching you do that and she’s watching people fall in love with you and it is very easy for people to see that when one is getting more attention they feel that they don’t need their attention anymore.” He sighs and tom comes to realization. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” He feels his heart in his chest pumping so fast he worries that his therapist can hear it. “You know last week I watch her take Xanax, I know she has anxiety and she needs it sometimes but she promised me she only takes it when things gets serious. She told me that when we moved in then shoved it in the back of our medicine cabinet. Last week I found it in her bedside table, new prescription too. That hurt the most, she didn’t even tell me.” He hurts himself with his own words and wonders why you can’t talk to him, he’s pushing more.

“Have you taken anything for anxiety and depression Mr. Holland?” He asks holding out his clipboard again.

“Yes,” He says blandly. “When I was a kid my mum put me on medicine for when I was acting so I wouldn’t have a panic attack in the middle of a scene. I went off of it when I was 16 and then got a new prescription when I was 20. I haven’t touched it since then, it’s most likely expired.” He says looking at the cars out the window.

“Well,” he writes down really quickly before looking at tom. “I think you should start taking medicine again. It’s only for the best, if you want to run it though with her then—“ tom needed to speak, needed to tell someone about the small box hidden in the house.

“I was going to ask her to marry me.” He gulps and takes a swing of his water. “I bought a ring before press and it was perfect, it was simple silver and heart shaped. She’s a sucker for those things, classy, straight out of s movie type stuff. Took me a long ass time to find just the perfect one and then I did, it was gorgeous. Then I came back for the 5th time and I was going to do it, I was going to ask her but then she got weird which made me mad and then her mad and I think—“ tom choked on his own tears.

“Are you okay?” The man slid over tissues in case he needed any.

“No, I love her so much and it’s my fault.” Tom says as he continues to look at all the cars passing by and all the people walking.

“I don’t think this is you’re fault at all.” He says. “Our time is up, sadly. But I’m open tomorrow if you want to come back, I’m free at 12:50 if that’s good with you. If not then I’ll see you Thursday. I want you to try and have a proper conversation without getting mad at each other.” He notes and tom gets up from his seat.

“Thank you.” He nods before exiting the room.

~

“You’re not on any drugs, correct?” She asks writing.

“What? As in prescription or just like weed?” You ask her and she laughs a little.

“I meant prescription. Like any anti—depressants or anxiety medication, or even if you have an illness that requires daily meds. Even if it’s just as simple as allergy medicine.” She gesture and you shake your head but then remember the Xanax you took last week to help yourself de-stress.

“Well, no, and yes, I took Xanax last week but that was just to help myself calm down. After our trash fight we got a little more intense and we just were yelling and screaming and I had an attack so I took some then fell asleep.” You told her and she nodded.

“Right, was that perscribed to you?” She asked and you nodded.

“Oh yes, I didn’t just buy it off of a stranger. I use to take it more but after I met tom I didn’t need to at all and I was somewhat perfect.” You told her.

“Right, Perfect. You use that word a lot Mrs. (y/l/n), no human is perfect, no animal, no art work, no place, no man Is perfect. I need you to let that go if we can move on.” She says sternly. She was right, of course she was right.

“Right, no one is perfect.” You gulp and move your hair. You felt perfection though, perfection was in tom. Tom could make you feel perfect.

“That’s a beautiful ring, did he give it to you?” She asks and you look down at the ring you still wore. ‘Never take this off because I promise I’ll always be there no matter where I am’.

“Yes, he did. It’s a promise ring.” You fiddled with it. She got up and walked over to her bookshelf and handed you a book.

“I want you to read this,” She hands you a book a child’s book to be exact. Well, if you chose to read it too your child. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the dance swan lake, this is the book version. It shows what two do for love and I think it’ll help you understand more.” She smiles and you stand up.

“Thank you, so much.” You smile at her.

“You’re welcome, our time is up though and i want you to talk with him.” She smiles at you as you grab your bag and reach for the door.

“Thank you once again.” You say as you leave and she smiles and waves you out.

~

“Tom?” You call out setting your keys on the table. “Tom I—“ You got cut off by the smell of coffee brewing. Coffee from your favorite place in London.

“What are you doing?” You asked him as he brewed the coffee and flipped pancakes.

“I got home early and decided to make you pancakes.” It was 4:30 in the afternoon. He never did this anymore so why now?

“Right?” You day and lean against the counter. “How was your day?” You ask trying to start a conversation. No arguing tonight.

“Good actually, yours?” He said. This was a start, this was all a start.

“Good, I got to write and oh! I saw this man with this Spider-Man shirt that reminded me of you because it was totally made for a seven year old.” You laugh and he does too. He was laughing with you. The sound that you missed so much.

“That’s so funny because I saw a man in a Spider-Man shirt too that was far too small for a man.” He joke with you.

“Can we talk about things?” You asked and he nodded and turned off the stove.

“I know about the Xanax, I’m sorry I made you so stressed I made you take drugs.” He has tears in the corner of his eyes.

“I could say the same about you, didn’t know you smoked.” You told him and he nods, you could smell it.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m such a shitty boyfriend and you’re the perfect girlfriend. I leave and you wait and I don’t know why you wait.” He leans against the stove and sets the spatula down.

“Because I love you.” You told yourself more then you told him. “I mean I love you a lot and I don’t want to let go of the people I love a lot.” You tell him and he Steps in front of you.

“I love you too. And I’m sorry we’re so distant, that drives me insane to most.” He tells you and you let your fingers rest on his shoulder.

“Do you wanna know what drives me crazy?” You asked him and he nodded. “I talk to you like your my co-worker. I can’t carry a proper conversation with you and it’s not your fault anymore then it is mine but that’s what drives me insane, because you’re not my co-worker and I want to tell you everything but I can’t for some reason.” You tell him and he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I get that.” He gulps before you rest your head on his shoulder. You couldn’t even get a tear out because you were so done with crying that your body wouldn’t allow you to cry anymore.

“Hey,” you push back his curls getting a full good glimpse at his face. “I miss you.” You whisper for only him to hear. “Like I miss you miss you.” You smile and he smiles big back.

“I miss you miss you too.” He says before he leans into kiss you.

And you felt it, it was perfect again. His lips were still the same and you knew they weren’t touched in anyway possible, infact they stayed the same just for you. His touch was still gentle as if his fingers waited for your skin again. And his eyes, oh his eyes stared at you as if it was the first time all over again.

“I have so many things to say to you.” He lifted you up from the ground for you to wrap your legs around him. “So much I have to tell you about, America is a crazy place.” He laughs a little and you do too.

“I do too, we have a new front desk woman at work, she’s so lost and scared I feel so bad but at the end of the day I know she’s doing it for the health insurance.” You giggle. He was ready to tell you everything again, he needed to tell you everything again.

“I want to hear your stories so bad but right now, I want to be in between your legs and make love to you until you can’t walk.” He smirks and you do too before you allow him to dive into your neck and kiss while he walks you to the bedroom.

Everything doesn’t come to an end, sometimes it does but most of the times it’s just a pause. You and tom had a pause, there’d never be a true end to you and tom because that was simply impossible.

Taglist; taglist: @lynnbeaan @actorsdamn @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @sunshine-peter @ironspiderguy @mdgrdians @dreamymeliorism @roaringgoodshow @built4broadway @strugglinggryffindorkid @1mychalia1 @grace-sully @didanyonesaybuckybarnes @embrace-themagic @bloodysleepy @thebonanamuffin @thellamalordd @flowerchild8341 @cade-james @random-stupid-stuffs @joyfulspider @sad-broken-crayon @mylinkmyrules @carry-on-ms-believer @queenmissfit t @skeletalwolfcat t @gingerpeachyy @condy-wants-a-cookie @dennythepooh @zon-chan @fandom-fangirl07 @gabriels-gumdrop @whatam3ss @jamaicaa-blakee @thetributethatvolunteered @o-brienwrites @smexylemony y @spn-worm @fucking-reddie e @stranger-marvel @darlingtholland @sylvirstars @supernatural-strangethings-1980 @pvnk-bivch @spideyyypeter @lubrielx @authorpocketcow @swoozi224 @abunchofmaraudersfluff ff @redridingthroughthehood @sammyskyler2000 @usuallyweepingnacho @tom-hollands-eyelash @capandbuck @delicately-written @emmyfignewton @spidcr-man @laramitk @captianbuckyy @kira-marieee @hazthosterfield @emilyle23 @tomshufflepuff @freakofnature444 @keepingupwiththehollands @ballarinaphan @1-800-chosen-jacobs @screamsss-in-fangirl

[letters-from-the-three-houses]

ahh I love your blog!! could I have a dimitri sickfic please, if you're taking requests? he seems like the type to overwork himself (to me, at least :(

he really does!! the poor boy should take care of himself :(

ft. the rest of the blue lions (silver lining for the long wait?) bc they all care about their house leader

enjoy!

edit: every time i publish a request before i go to the school, the moment i arrive to class i always spot typos lol. and this one had a looot. fixed them up!

When the coughing first appeared, he thought nothing of it. They always came and went with a good night’s rest, and he had no reason to think this one would be different.

He was wrong.

Voice hoarse, he kept clearing his throat as he tried to help Annette with her homework. She always had difficulties explaining things properly, and their teacher docked marks because of her lack of coherent thought. So he took it upon himself to tutor her and help boost up her grades. “Imagine the gaits as beats,” he said. “A walk is four—going in the pattern of left hind leg, left front, right hind, right front, and so forth.”

“Left hind…front… Wait, could you repeat that? Which leg then what? This? This? This?”

They had drawn a nice, simple horse illustration on Annette’s papers, her pencil pointing at each stick leg to show which one she was referring to. Dimitri was having trouble differentiating them. He repeated his explanation. “Legs of the same side are back to back—left, left, right, right—while the halves interchange—back, front, back front.”

“So beat one is back left, beat two is front left…”

He nodded, then winced. Okay, that was a mistake. That just made his head hurt. “Yeah, just like that.”

She beamed. “Oh! I see! I think I get it now. Thanks!”

“No problem. What else do you need me to clarify?”

“Nah, I think that’s it. I’ll try to do the rest myself.” Motioning to her notes, she added, “Besides, you’ve helped me a lot! I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Sure thing.” He rose from the seat, careful not to make any sudden movements. “I’ll get going then, but let me know if you need more help.”

“Yep! Thanks again, Dimmie!”

He stumbled away from a waving Annette, making sure to stand upright and walk in a straight line.

Now I have to feed the horses, go to lance practice, catch up on the assigned readings… Ah, I also promised Ingrid I’d try her new tea. She’s been making good progress with—

Cough.

He sighed. Hopefully this would stop soon.

But as the days went on, the more it took for him to resist barfing.

Placing a hand on the wall, he took a deep breath. Gods, it felt like his skull was cracking open. Everything hurt. Everything was hot. He didn’t even know where he was anymore.

“Common room?” he said to himself. “I think I’m near the common room.”

He had just come from the armoury, hands heavy with all the papers and materials he needed for the task. Felix didn’t realize it, but he sometimes broke the training swords faster than the monastery could replace them. Dimitri had taken up the slack in order to keep it well-stocked, so his friend could continue practicing without hassle.

“…Milord? What are you doing on the wall?”

He turned around. It was Dedue. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just thinking to myself.”

Dedue didn’t seem to believe him, and he bent over to study him with a frown. Or, Dimitri figured it was a frown. He couldn’t see it properly, but he was still conscious enough to realize Dedue wouldn’t be smiling. “You look sick.”

“I’m only taking a breather,” he insisted. He had to get to the library to find source materials for the essay Sylvain has having trouble on. If he left the books on Sylvain’s desk later, the boy would be able to finish his essay on time. “No need to worry.”

But as he tried to pat Dedue’s shoulder in assurance, his vision blurred and he hit the ground, things scattering around him.

“Milord?!”

“No…I’m okay…” He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the sudden fall and the yelling made his head hurt. “Just…tired…”

He felt Dedue lift him up, his arm hanging loosely around the other’s neck. Feet dragging,  breathing ragged, his mind was beginning to shut down.

“Really…it’s nothing…I still have to…”

“Milord,” he heard Dedue say. “With all due respect, be quiet.”

The last thing he saw was a group of people running towards him before he passed out.

He woke up on something soft. It took him a second to realize he was staring at the ceiling.

…Wait, where was he?

Jolting up, he surveyed the room. White walls, beds, sterile sheets. The infirmary, if he had to guess? His head hurt noticeably less, his throat was less clogged, and he could actually count how many fingers he held up before his face.

“Oh? You’re awake?” He turned to see Manuela in her chair, brows raised but otherwise nonplussed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said after some deliberation.

“Any headaches?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as bad as before.”

“Stuffy nose?”

“Less stuffy.”

She stalked over to take his temperature, noting it down on a piece of paper. “Your fever is breaking. And it looks like you’re not coughing as often. Good signs. Take it easy though. You’re still sick.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Nineteen hours.”

“Nineteen?!”

She gave him a reprimanding stare. “With how terrible your condition was, I’m surprised it wasn’t longer. You gave us quite a scare, looking as pale as you did. Your housemates were panicking when they brought you here.”

Thinking back to what happened, guilt set in. The last people he saw must’ve been them. “Where are they now?” he asked.

“The mess hall, having their lunch.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He began to swing his legs over the bed before Manuela tutted, walking over to push him back on the pillows. “Hm? Who said you could leave? You’re stuck on bed rest for the rest of the day. Doctor’s orders.”

“But—”

“No buts. I don’t want you fainting in the hallways again.”

“Professor—” he tried again.

“Another word from you and the prescription will change to two days.”

He pursed his lips.

She glanced at him, smiling. “Focus on recovering, won’t you? Your housemates will feel better if you’re back to normal sooner than later.”

He nodded, not knowing what else to say. Or do, for that matter. Knowing he slept for nineteen hours straight, he wasn’t sleepy anymore. But he had a feeling if he asked the professor for something to keep him busy, she’d make him stay here longer than he needed to.

He could count sheep, he supposed. Try to reach a thousand, or something.

As he was about to begin, there was a knock on the door. He couldn’t tell who it was, but Manuela seemed to be expecting it. As she answered the door, she said, “You all ate quickly.”

“Yes, we couldn’t sit still.” His ears perked up. The voice was familiar. Mercedes? “How is he doing now?”

She thought about it, then motioned towards him. “I think it’s easier if you take a look for yourself.”

Someone gasped. “What?” That was Ashe, who slipped under Manuela to peek inside. “Does that mean it’s gotten worse? Is he—? Oh! He’s awake!”

And with that, the rest of the Blue Lions clambered into the room.

“He is?”

“Thank the gods…”

“I told you he was going to be okay!”

“Yeah, but if he wasn’t being an idiot in the first place—”

“Quiet. His headache just got better.” That shut them up. “You’re more than welcome here,” Manuela said, “but don’t aggravate him. Else I’ll kick you all out.”

“Yes, Professor.”

She shook her head, letting out a short laugh. “As long as you understand. Well then, children, I’ll be in my office. Call me if anything happens. And remember: no noise.”

As soon as she left, Ashe turned to Dimitri and stage whispered, “You sure you’re okay, Chief?”

He nodded. This time, it didn’t make him feel like throwing up. “Positive.”

“You should’ve told us you were sick,” Mercedes chastised. “What would have happened if Dedue wasn’t there to find you?”

He shuffled in the bed. “Well,” he muttered, “for starters, I wasn’t planning on fainting.”

“That is besides the point.” She sighed. “Please, we all care about you. Take better care of yourself.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about all those chores you do?” Sylvain chimed in. “We didn’t realize you did them all by yourself. You’ve done a lot for us. We want to do something for you too.”

Everyone nodded. He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when he saw the earnestness in their eyes. It reminded him of himself, how he felt when he worked for the sake of his housemates. So he stared for a moment before saying, “Okay.”

“…Okay?”

“I admit I overworked,” he said, “taking in all those responsibilities at once. I guess I’ve gotten used to doing everything by myself. But you’re right. And I do trust you. As the leader of the Blue Lions, I’ve seen how hardworking and disciplined you all are.”

They looked at each other.

“So does that mean…?” Ingrid asked.

“Yeah. No more pushing myself to the limit. I’ll ask for help.” He cracked a smile. “I’m proud to have you as my friends.”

The solemn atmosphere broke out into exuberance, as they all expressed their relief in different ways. Mostly, through excited chatter and tight hugs. The wind rushed out of his lungs as they gathered in for a group hug.

“H-hey, having said that, I’m still sick.” He tried to speak up, but his words were drowned out by everyone else as they began splitting responsibilities between themselves. It didn’t help that his voice was still weaker than usual. “Can you all settle down a bit? It’s getting noisy. Guys? Guys?”

Omake:

From inside her office, Manuela could hear them as clear as day. Footsteps thundered People cheered. Laughter echoed. Did they forget her warning already? She wouldn’t be surprised if they broke something in the chaos.

Still, listening to them and all their enthusiasm—"rock, paper, scissors for who gets to help tend the stables!“—she shook her head and chuckled. I guess I’ll let it slide this time.

[asks are open!]

[brianandthemays]

Love is a Polaroid (Roger Taylor x reader) Part 10

A/N Wow I feel like I”m finally picking up some sort of fan base for this fic! Which is fun! I really hope y’all are enjoying it! I know I’m enjoying writing it, every chapter just gets more any more fun! 

Anywho I wanna actually start a spotify playlist so if you have any song ideas please send them here

I’d rlly love y’alls input so please send me some asks!

As always! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG AND SEND ME SOME ASK! IT MAKES MY DAY EVERY SINGLE TIME SOMEONE SENDS ME SOMETHING ABOUT THIS FIC AND I’D LOOOOVE TO DISCUSS IT WITH YOU!

Also! HUGE shout out to @sweet-ladyy​ who, with everything going on in her life, took the time to read and edit this. Y’all neeed to read Matters of the Heart it’s SPICING Up omg... 

Word Count: 3.4+

Warnings: Fluff, i guess angst, its cute

Other parts: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9 

______________________________________

That was how you somehow ended up in Roger’s car, heading to his family’s home in Norfolk. You were not ecstatic about the offer at first. 

               “Why don’t you come home with me?” His lips were soft on your neck but that didn’t stop you from turning in his grasp and scoffing at him. 

               “I don’t think that's a good idea.” 

But after awhile, Roger wore you down, convincing you to come with him. 

               “They’ll love you!” he insisted. “Think about it, just us for a week.”

You couldn’t deny that the thought of being alone with Roger in his hometown for a week was nice. But you still felt like things were moving quickly. So, you shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself.

               “It’s too soon, we’ve only been together for a few months, Roger!” 

He frowned at you.

               “We can go slow! We have a guest room, you can stay there!” His eyes were pleading you, his lip jutting out in a pout. “Please?” 

And that was it. Now you were sitting in his passenger seat with the window rolled down and the music blaring some Fleetwood Mac song as the wind blew through your hair. Roger’s hand was clasped tightly over yours, with his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the back. You look over at him as he drove, his dirty blonde hair was scattered in the wind and all you wanted to do was run your hand through it. He wore his sunglasses which he insisted helped him see better but you just scoffed at the fact that he bought prescription sunglasses because his normal ones made him look “like a tosser”. 

               “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He smirked, glancing over at you. You blushed but didn’t look away. Instead you raised your eyebrows at him and squeezed his hand once before releasing it to scrambled around in your bag. 

               “Good idea!” You presented the Polaroid that you had snatched from his room before leaving that morning. He flashed a wide smile in your direction as you flashed the camera. “Eyes on the road.” 

He grumbled at you but looked back towards the road. He flipped his hand back over, inviting you to hold onto it. You looked down at his hand an roamed over the course calluses over his fingers. You reached your fingers out and brushed over them softly. His hand was so rough from scars and scratches from various fights and gigs. 

               “They don’t hurt.” 

You glance over at him. His mouth was skewed to one side and his head was tilted as if he were thinking. You looked back down at his hand and shook your head. Your boyfriend could not have rough hands. You reached down in your bag again and this time come up with a small bottle of lotion. 

               “What are you doing?” he questioned, turning his head to look over at you. 

You move his face back towards the road with your hand, giggling softly. “Eyes on the road.” 

He humphed but obeyed. You poured a dot of lotion over his hand and slowly start to rub it in. You moved it over each finger, making sure to fill every crack and rough spot. Roger let out a small groan at the feeling of the cool lotion over his rough hand and you smiled over at him. “Feel nice?” 

               “Yeah…” he responded, stretching out his fingers. You slide yours in with his and squeeze slightly. A silence fell over the two of you once again, comfortable and relaxed. It didn’t take long after that before you started to see signs and buildings leading to Norfolk. You began to feel nervous again. You were meeting Roger’s parents after dating him for 4 months. What were they going to think of you? 

               “Hey, relax.” Roger kissed your knuckles softly. “They’re gonna love you.” 

               “Are you sure this is okay? I could find a hotel nearby. I could--” 

               “Stop.” He cut you off quickly, knowing where this rambling was going. “You’re coming home with me and that’s final.” 

You bit your lip, still feeling uneasy.                                                                                   

  “You’re the type of girl they’ve been begging me to bring home forever,” he mentioned. “Smart, respectful… everything they wanted me to be.”

You looked over at him. Roger was one of the smartest people you knew, he just wouldn’t let himself see that. Respectful wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for him but when it came to you, he was a perfect gentleman. Well, not perfect. There were often times he would say crude things in your ear while you were in public that would make you blush, but he treated you well and never pushed you too far. 

               “Roger, I think you’re being hard on yourself,” you told him. “Your parents love you.” 

He didn’t respond. He did, however, grip his wheel a little tighter. 

Eventually, you and Roger pulled up to a house a little outside the main city.  It was a quaint house, that didn’t quite match Roger’s look. But it was cute and you felt a little more relaxed in the comfortable area. You stepped out of the car and stood in the front lawn. There was a soft breeze flowing and it felt nice, it felt like home. 

               “Ready?” 

You turned and saw Roger holding yours and his bags, smiling softly at you. You nodded and let him take the lead up to the door.  He knocked on the door and came to stand next to you.

“It’s gonna be okay, love,” he insisted, placing a kiss on your temple. “Everything is going to be okay.” 

A moment later, the door opened revealing a women you assumed to be Roger’s mother. A big smile broke out across her face when she saw you. 

               “Roger!” she cried, pulling him into a hug. He grumbled before loosely wrapping his arms around his mother. 

               “Hey, mum.” He kissed her cheek before pulling away and taking your hand, tugging you towards him. “This is (Y/N), remember I told you about her.” 

She smiled at you, glancing up and down over you. You swallowed hard and held out your hand before introducing yourself. “It’s so nice to meet you.” 

               “Oh, honey, you don’t know how happy I am that Roger’s found a nice girl like you.” His mother ignored your hand and pulled you into a big hug, squeezing you tightly.  You yelped slightly before hugging her back, letting out a nervous chuckle. 

               “Mum, please don’t suffocate my girlfriend,” he groaned, embarrassment evident in his tone. 

               “Oh, leave me alone, child.” She released you letting you take a few steps back. You smiled at her, letting her know you appreciated her kindness. “Now, Roger, why don’t you take your things upstairs while I introduce (Y/N) to your father.” 

Roger glanced over at you, checking to see if you’d be okay on your own. You nodded at him, giving him the answer he needed before replying. “Sounds great, mum.” 

She lead you inside, Roger turning right to go up some nearby stairs. You watched him go, trying to shove your anxiety down and out of your brain as you followed his mother into the living space. 

               “Michael, come meet Roger’s girlfriend!” she called into the house. “Why don’t you sit here while I put some tea on you.” 

You nodded, sitting on the couch awkwardly, as she disappeared into the  kitchen. You sat alone in the quiet for a few minutes, looking around the room. It was a nice living space with a few couches and TV sitting on a shelf. It reminded you of what you had at home and a pang of guilt shot through you. You tried to ignore it by looking over at a picture sitting next to the couch. It was a picture of a young Roger that made you smile. He was so young and wild looking. His hair was shooting in all directions and his smile had a mischievous glint in it. 

               “So.” 

The new deep voice startled you, causing you to jump from your seat. You looked over at the new man in the room and saw him smiling at your reaction. 

               “Didn’t mean to scare you, dear. I’m Michael, Roger’s father.” 

Your eyes widened and you stood quickly to come shake his hand. “I’m (Y/N), thank you so much for letting me stay at your house this week, Mr. Taylor.” 

He waved you off, coming to sit in the cushioned chair next to the couch. “It’s Michael, Mr. Taylor was my father. And you’re always welcome here, dear.” 

               “Thank you,” you said you him. “Michael.” 

He smiled at you, and motioned for you to sit. “So, tell me about yourself.” 

You cleared your throat “Well…” desperately trying to think of something to say about yourself. “I’m studying at Ealing… for Public Relations with a minor in Design.” 

               “An art school!” He huffed. “Interesting. I don’t know how I would trust Roger there. Your parents must be very trusting.” 

You looked down at the floor. “Actually, my parents wanted me to stay home. Didn’t think I should bother with a real job.” You laughed lightly, trying to make it seem that you’re not as nervous are you are. 

               “Well, then it was kind of them to pay for your college education,” Mr. Taylor responded. 

               “Actually, I’m paying for myself.” 

               “What?” Roger’s voice came from the doorway. Your head whipped up to his, your eyes meeting. You had tried so desperately to keep your family struggles away from him, it wasn’t his problem. “You’re paying for yourself?” 

               “Um, yeah…” You shifted in your seat. “I’m on a lot of scholarship, though. It’s not a big deal.” 

He didn’t look convince, but as he opened his mouth to say something more but at that moment his mother walked in with a tray of tea and biscuits. You glanced at Michael who was staring apologetically at you. You took one of the cups of tea gingerly into your hand, avoiding Roger’s gaze. You could feel his eyes burning into your head as he wondered why you had left a major detail about your life out of your conversations. 

The rest of the evening went relatively smoothly. Creating conversation easily with his parents and avoiding the subject of school and your parents all together. Over dinner, Roger keep his hand on your knee, rubbing smooth circles into the soft skin on the side. You appreciated the gesture, resting your hand on top of his. 

               “So, how did you two meet?”his mother asked near the end of the meal. You looked over at Roger, smiling at the story. 

               “Well, I had just finished visiting my sister, who goes to Poly, and I had just sat down to read my book when Roger came running around the corner being chased by some--” 

               Roger’s hand squeezed your knee tightly, and you glanced over at him. His eyes silently pleading you to leave out some details of that story. 

               “By some… friends… and he saw me and tripped,” you finished. 

               “Guess you could say I fell at first sight,” Roger joked, trying to take attention away from your slip up. 

His mother cooed affectionately, going on about how romantic it was and how you were just destined to meet. You couldn’t help but stare at Roger, thinking about how circumstantial your meeting was. If you hadn’t been in that exact spot, at that exact time, you would never had met Roger. It made your heart ache just to think about that. 

               “Yeah, we really are lucky,” you murmured thoughtfully.  He looked over at you and gave you a gentle smile, a similar thought probably going through his head. You turned his hand over and slipped your fingers into his, loving the feeling of his hand in yours. 

               “Well, you seem good for him, (Y/N),” his mother concluded finally, pushing away from the table. You went to follow her actions, beginning to pick up your plate but she took it from your hand. “Please, you’re our guest!” 

               “I’m going to go show her around a little bit, ‘kay mum?” Roger pushed away from the table, resting his hand on the small of your back. 

               “Alright, don’t stay out too late, Roger Taylor,” she commanded, putting a hand on her hip. 

               “Mmhmm, alright mum.” He began to lead you out of his house, back into the open air.  He closed the door behind him and took a big breath. 

               “They’re sweet.” 

               “You don’t need to lie to me.” 

               “Roger!” 

He laughed loudly, grabbing your hand and dragging you down the street. You walked closely together, your his head bent to be near yours as you chatted and laughed together. His neighborhood was very small and nothing like the city of London. You liked it though. It was a place you could imagine settling down in. 

               “So this is where Roger Taylor grew up,” you looked up at him, grinning widely. 

He nodded, glancing around, looking fondly at the buildings. “Yeah, this is home.” He pointed at what looked like a primary school. “That’s where I played the drums for the first time. They had a little kit in the music room, and I just liked to make noise so my music teacher let me play.” He smiled at the memory. “Mum wouldn’t let me take my kits to Uni… so I just bought a new one when I got there.” 

               “That’s a cute image,” you commented. “Little Roger banging away at his little drum kit.” 

               “That’s not the only thing I can bang.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

               “That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

               “C’mon, you walked right into it!” 

The two of you continued on, him pointing out buildings and telling stories along the way. You loved hearing his stories about his childhood. All the places he got in trouble, places he grew up and learned about life. It’s weird coming to his childhood town, he was so different now, at least when he was around you. 

Eventually, you came upon a bridge that was over a road next to a field of flowers. He climbed up on the railing then helped you to sit next to him. He kept his arm around you, helping you feel more stable on the railing as you leaned into him. His fingers brushed your arm softly as the wind blew smoothly through your hair. 

               “Why didn’t you tell me about your parents?” 

You knew the question was coming but it didn’t help you feel less uneasy about the topic. You looked down at your hands, twisting  your fingers around each other, leaning slightly away from him. 

               “It wasn’t important,” you deflected. 

               “Not important? Are you joking?” You couldn’t decipher his tone. Was he angry? Upset? Annoyed? Either way you felt yourself closing in again. You looked back up at him, still feeling uneasy. 

               “No, Roger, I’m not. You don’t need to know about my issues with my family,” you argued. 

               “Yes I do, that’s how a relationship works, isn’t it?” he shot back. “We have to tell each other things.” 

               “And how would you know how a relationship works, seeing as you’ve never had a real one.” 

As soon as the words left your mouth you regretted them. Your eyes widened at your own words as you watched his shoulders deflate. He moved his arm from around your shoulder, bringing his hands to rest in his lap. 

               “You’re right.” His voice was quiet, and it reminded you of that night 4 months ago when you put him to bed after his fight. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, with you.” He looked over at you. “But I’m trying my damn hardest not to let you get away.” 

You felt your eyes glass over as a tear dropped from your eye. Roger reached up and brushed the tear off your cheek. 

               “I just want to know what’s going on up there.” He taps your temple lightly, drawing a small laugh out of you. You wipe your nose, willing yourself not to let anymore tears fall. 

               “My parents… didn’t see the point in me going to a real college,” you began glancing over at him. He nodded, encouraging you to continue. “They just wanted me to go to some community college and get a basic education then settle down somewhere and have five kids.” You chuckled slightly at that. Imagining yourself doing just that, becoming the perfect trophy wife. “So when I told them I wanted to study Public Relations maybe minor in design or journalism. They told me that if I left, not to bother coming back.” You gauged Roger’s reaction. Confusion flooded his face, mixed with some anger so you rested your hand on his leg. “So I left. I’m on almost a full scholarship at Ealing and its grade based. Which is why I can’t afford to fail.” 

               “What about your sister? Isn’t she studying medicine?” He asked, his brain going through everything you told him. 

               “She was the oldest. She got to go to school and live her life. But my mother sheltered me. Thought I was her perfect little girl.” You shook your head. “Guess I’m just a disappointment now.” 

               “Hey, that’s not true.” He cupped your cheek and made you look up at him. “You’re bloody brilliant. You work so hard, and are so determined. You saw right through me the moment you met me, and had me-- quite literally -- speechless. You’re something I’ve never seen before, and everyone around you can see it.” You felt your lip quiver, as your struggled more and more not to break down right there. “You make me want to slow down and watch the world.”

You stared at him for a moment longer before leaning your forehead on his chest. He wrapped his arms back around you, rubbing up and down lightly. 

               “I just want to be here with you, Roger. I don’t want to think about anything else.” You kissed his chest softly. “Not school, not my shitty parents. I just want you.” 

               “You have me, love.” He kissed the top of your hair. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

So there you sat, on the railing of the bridge, wrapped in each other. You sat there until the sun went down behind the trees and the stars began to specle the sky. At that point, he helped you off he railing and guided you back to his house. He guided you up the stairs and into his guest room. He stood, leaning in the doorway watching you walk around the room. 

               “I’m just down the hall if you need anything,” he told you, quirking his lips to the side. 

You walked back over to him, placing your hands on his chest. “Okay.” 

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. You reciprocated for a minute before pulling away and smiling at him. He nodded before turning and walking down the hall away from you. You watched him for a moment before closing the door and settling in. 

You couldn’t sleep. You closed your eyes, tossed and turned but sleep would not come. Your fight with Roger kept playing over in your head. You didn’t know why you said those things. You didn’t know why you always shut people out. You really liked him. You were beginning to think maybe even love him, but it was still too soon. Now, Roger was the only person besides Freddie who knew about your parents. You rolled over again and looked at the clock. It had barely been an hour since you laid down. This was not going to work. 

So you got up. You rolled out of bed and walked down the hall to where Roger told you he would be. You opened his door quietly, trying not to wake him. When you opened the door, he was still awake; his arms behind his head, staring at the opening door. 

               “Can’t sleep?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “I’m sorry.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What for?” 

               “For what I said earlier…” You rubbed the back of your neck. 

He stared at you for a moment and then rubbed his eyes. “C’mere.” 

               “What?���

He opened his arms, and you realize what he meant. So you obliged, crawling in between his arms. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly to his chest and kissing your forehead softly before settling in.  Being in his arms felt so right, so natural and you never wanted to leave.

_______________________

I hope y’all liked it!

Tag list (SO VERY OPEN): @dove-turned-destroyer @16wiishes @angiefangirlworld-2 @queenismyrealdad @blondecarfucker @perriwiinkle @chlobo6 @wolverinesbeer @onevisionliz @catnissprior-blog @thewinchesterchronicles 

[thefanficmonster]

Stranger In The Crowd

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently ended the process of moving, Y/N is rightfully very tired but also very excited for the new chapter of her life. Funnily enough, this new chapter includes a newly formed long distance friendship/crush with a very special person from San Diego.

Requested by @boiled-onionrings Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long for it to be posted but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to finally be at home after such a long day of standing around in the Georgia heat with only a thin layer of fabric to protect my eyes and head from the scorching sun. Yeah, anyone who says that tent did well at protecting everyone under it today is nothing but a liar. I was in a short, strapless white summer dress, the fabric of which barely had any weight and consistency to provide heat of its own yet I still damn near melted. Ok, I’ll admit, some of the roasting heat probably came from the energy and force I put into singing the songs of my band’s new album ‘Starting At The End’. 

The mini concert we held in this large open field was meant as an introduction to the city of Savannah where all the band members - myself included - are actually from but we all moved to the West Coast to pursue our music career. And now that we’ve grown, and the majority of us are married, one of us is a father now as well, we’ve decided to return to our hometown. The decision was so spontaneous and was executed so quickly due to no one objecting to it that it still hasn’t me that I’m no longer in LA. The heat isn’t helping my ‘processing’ process but I’ll get to it eventually. Do I miss LA though? Not sure I do - I think I more miss the people I was closer to while I was there.

Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, my phone dings, notifying me that I’ve received a message. I don’t have to look to know it’s from - there’s only one person I actively text and his name is....

C ~ Your virtual buddy Corpse here, making sure you didn’t die of a heatstroke today. If you did indeed survive, just reply to this message, if not....don’t do anything, I guess.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight of the message. I promised Corpse I’d text him after the concert to let him know I was ok, but the even dragged out for longer than anticipated so I’m guessing he got worried.

How cute.

Me ~ Alive and well, but I do feel like a popped tire of an overloaded truck. Hope that’s a visually appealing description

Corpse and I met on the charity livestream Jacksepticeye organized and invited our band to so we could play Among Us with some of the best gamers and streamers on the internet. It was a huge honor and a ton of fun, definitely an event I’d like to repeat in the near future because I had such a good time and I know all my bandmates did too. We all got acquainted and even became official friends with the gamers that were practically our hosts, Corpse becoming the closest friends I’d earn. That livestream happened months ago and we still text just as consistently.

C ~ Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Anyway, as to not exhaust you further to force you into typing, how about you send me pictures to sum up your thoughts and emotions and plans for the evening

This is OUR THING trademark, mine and Corpse’s and no one can take it away from us. It’s a significant element of our friendship that enables us both to understand one another when one of us feels the way I described in my message - a popped tire or a deflated balloon. I’m usually the exhausted one - blame the many shows we do and the many meet-and-greets we organize for our lovely fans. It’s the type of exhaustion none of the band members mind at all, but we definitely need some time to recover from it.

As I go to sit down on my couch, the flower crown I’ve been wearing slips off the top of my head, falling on the floor, creating a soft noise that attracts the attention of one of my many cats - Sasha. She’s the youngest and most curious kitty in the family, always protected by the other four - Luna, Cassie, Silver and Lynn. Those four are far lazier and a lot more disinterested in comparison to Sasha who immediately runs over to see what’s fallen.

I smile to myself, taking the flower crown and undoing it to lessen it by a few stems to make it smaller, all the while being watched by the curious Sasha whose interest is rewarded in the end when I put the now adorably tiny flower crown on her head.

While she still hasn’t shaken the thing off I manage to snap a pic which I send to Corpse who opens it mere seconds after it was delivered. 

C ~ Sasha’s pulling off your aesthetic better than you. Sorry, someone had to let you know

I burst out laughing for two reasons - 1.The message itself, damn it! It’s hilarious; 2. Corpse has learnt the name of each one of my cats and never mixes them up - not even Luna and Lynn who look almost identical. That amount of attention to detail is astonishing and very meaningful to me, it genuinely warms my heart and that may or may not be dramatic but it’s definitely not exaggerated.

Me ~ You think I haven’t caught on yet? 

C ~ Well, if it makes you feel any better you pull off my aesthetic better than I do

He’s referring to the e-girl look I did for one show the band had in downtown LA one night. I was drunk and looking forward to trying new things so I improvised the hell out of my outfit but I apparently looked presentable enough to leave a good impression on Corpse despite the pic I sent him being a bit blurry and being a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the very bar we were performing in. It goes without saying that the mirror was dirty too - had a bunch of writing on it which Corpse said only added to the aesthetic. Looking back on it now I kinda agree, and luckily so did the fans in the comments of that same photo when I posted it on Instagram.

Me ~ Means a lot actually. Nowhere near enough to aid the burn of having a cat pull off cottagecore better than I do, but still helps XD

As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Sasha hops on the couch, poking her head over my phone to look down at the screen.

Now this is gonna be golden.

I take a selfie with my phone in my lap, the camera capturing both me and Sasha at a rather unflattering angle which has me losing my mind laughing when I send the picture to Corpse who immediately sends back a string of cry-laughing emojis.

C ~ I can’t tell which one of you is cuter

Me ~ If that was a compliment, I gotta say I appreciate it greatly

C ~ Just telling the truth ;)

It’s times like these that the butterflies in my stomach remind me just why I’ve started catching feelings for this man despite all the distance between us and despite barely knowing him - he knows me more than I know him but I don’t mind it, oddly enough.

I’m fond of our connection and though I sometimes dream of something more, I’m also content with what we already have considering that ‘something more’ seems rather unattainable as of now.

My phone dings again, clearing the fog of thoughts and presenting me with a new message from Corpse.

C ~ Oh, by the way, look what I got....

That message is followed up by a picture of a ticket. A plane ticket to Georgia! 

While I’m still busy stomaching this and dealing with my quickly rising excitement, he sends another message.

C ~ I hope to catch a The Silver Rays concert while I’m there. Heard they had an adorable frontwoman ;)

My breath catches in my throat as a wide grin spreads across my face. The thought of having Corpse so close to me sends those aforementioned butterflies in my stomach into a raving mood and they practically explode my insides with excitement and joy like I’ve never felt it before. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that we’re about to go from having an entire country between us, to being just some ways away - him in the audience and me on stage without a single clue of who to look for. That’s part of the excitement though, I guess, part of the guessing game that’s gonna make our meeting all the more interesting.

He’ll be a stranger in the crowd and I’ll be a performer on a stage - seemingly two people who have no relation whatsoever. But damn does it go beyond that: No one has to know how hard I’m falling for that stranger in the crowd.

Me ~ I’ve heard so too, can’t confirm it though

If this is gonna be a guessing game, I’ll flip the tables a bit - I won’t take any guesses. I’ll let the answer come to me. I’ll give the first move over to the stranger in the crowd, let’s see what he does.

C ~ I’ll check and let you know, don’t worry

Not worried whatsoever, Corpsie. I’m not worried at all.

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[braincoins]

Allura skirted around the whole “I’m an alien princess” thing. She put it as having a power she hadn’t known about, which was true. She did also demonstrate her shifting ability for them, returning to her true form. It was... weird, to do it around people who weren’t Takashi or Coran. She was still a little wary - they work at Galra! - but she trusted Shiro. 

More than that, they had to do something. She’d been worrying for all this time about protecting her love, about keeping him safe. She’d thought that just keeping him from crime-fighting would be enough. She’d thought that, so long as he was with her, he was safe. 

She looked at the arm, sitting on the coffee table in the living room. I was wrong. If he could be hurt that badly here, where he should have been at his safest, then the only way to protect him was to deal with Zarkon and Dr. King directly. I won’t let you hurt him again. I won’t.

But for now, their new allies were being brought up to speed. Ulaz looked especially interested in quintessence, perhaps a touch unnervingly so. Krolia seemed sympathetic and Keith just looked like he wanted to punch Zarkon straight in the face. Yeah, I think I’m going to like you, she thought as she looked at the young man. 

She and Shiro were taking turns explaining, but she had to cover most of what went on in the Galra office break-in, obviously. She tried to keep herself calm, tried to push the panic down and keep it out of her voice. Takashi took her hand in his own and gave it a squeeze; it was the only thing that kept her going. 

Keith and Krolia were able to chime in when it came to the rescue, and after that, everyone was caught up, except for...

“Just now, with the... spasms or pain attacks or whatever you want to call them,” Shiro said, “I started to get this feeling... like it was me but it wasn’t me and it was a woman, a pregnant woman, and they were torturing her. She said - I felt - that she didn’t sign up for this, that they didn’t care about the child.”

And then Krolia let out a stream of words bluer than the ocean and ended them with, “...the clinic.”

“You aren’t serious,” Keith said.

“It would make sense,” Ulaz said. Before Allura could ask, he explained, “Galra runs a low-income clinic for poor people. Basic services mostly - checkups, non-opioid prescriptions, basic sex education, birth control and free condoms.”

“I work there twice a week,” Krolia put in. “There’s flyers all over the place about studies they can take part in to earn some extra money. That’s part of why we run it: we pay for plasma donations, sperm and egg donations, and recruit people for studies.”

“But why a pregnant woman?!” Keith yelped. 

Ulaz looked to Allura. “You said you can apparently manipulate quintessence? What else can you do with it?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I’m still figuring this out.”

“Can you feel if quintessence is Shiro’s or not?”

She thought about that. “Probably. You want me to test the arm?”

He nodded and she picked it up again. It had twitched and spasmed on its own a few times since being removed, but it had been still for awhile. She closed her eyes and felt for... There. It felt like tea that had been left out to cool, like it wasn’t quite right anymore, but it was there, undeniably. “This isn’t Shiro’s,” she confirmed. She opened her eyes.

“It’s only a guess,” Ulaz mused aloud, “but they probably used this woman’s quintessence to power the arm. They took in volunteers for a study and found a way to take and trap some of her quintessence. If quintessence is ‘attenuated,’ then...”

“They caused her pain specifically to cause Shiro pain,” Allura finished, feeling pale.

“They called her back in for it,” Krolia agreed, sounding hollow. “She probably wasn’t pregnant when they took it initially - that phase of the study would have been last year - but now she is, and they just said they wanted to check on the fetus, they used it as a pretext just to get her in there.”

“You think they’ve figured out he’s Paladin?” Keith asked.

“Don’t know,” Shiro said. “But what point would there be to just making me hurt like hell?”

“If the body endures too much pain, sometimes it will just shut down,” Krolia said. “Like flipping an off switch.”

“Possibly,” Ulaz said. He was still in his contemplative mode. “But try not to think like an evil genius or a superhero.” He looked to Keith. “You have a device. The device malfunctions suddenly - badly. It is under warranty. What would you do with it?”

“Take it in to get it fixed,” Keith said instantly.

Krolia got to the point. “They wanted to lure him in. He’d either go to the ER - where they could find him easily - or come in tomorrow to have us look at it.”

Ulaz nodded. “One way or the other, they could pick him up. But I don’t think they know he’s Paladin.”

“Why not?” Allura asked. “Why else would they want him?”

“If they know anything about Paladin, it’s that he can teleport,” Ulaz pointed out. “He can just get away again.”

“Unless they have Sendak knock me back out,” Shiro replied. 

“They’d have to get Sendak to you,” Ulaz countered. “You’d see him coming and you’d be gone.”

“That doesn’t answer the other question,” Keith said. “Why bring Shiro in?”

“The Incident,” Allura replied as it came to her. “The same incident where Dr. King and her assistants lost their bodies. Shiro lost his arm in it.”

“They think there’s something they can get from him?” Krolia asked.

“That sounds more likely. But we shouldn’t discount the Paladin idea entirely,” Ulaz said. “I don’t think they know, but then I also thought Dr. King was dead.” He shrugged. “We do not know what they’re capable of. It’s good to have more theories on the table.”

“Okay but what do we do?” Keith pressed. 

Oh yes, I like you a lot, Allura decided. “We need more information.”

“I can volunteer hours at the clinic,” Krolia said. “To kind of keep an eye on things down there. Doctor, you should talk to Thace. Some way that doesn’t look suspicious. He can cover our tracks as well as dig up some dirt.”

“Do you know when he takes lunch?” Ulaz asked. “I can pretend I am finally caving to your romantic pressures.”

She snorted. “’Pretend’, my ass,” she muttered, but she nodded. “Usually at 11. Send him an email no later than 10:30 though; he normally eats at his desk, but if you ask him to join you in the cafeteria, I’m sure he’ll show up.”

“Excellent.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Allura asked.

Shiro grinned. “Krolia’s been trying to set our good doctor up with this guy in IT for a while now.”

“For forever. They’ve got the hots for each other so bad, it’s ridiculous,” Krolia said. “And Thace is a good guy. I’ve already said I was willing to bring him in on this.”

“Anyone you bring in on this is in danger,” he reminded her.

“Yes, yes,” she said, waving his concerns away, “you went through all of this when you were still trying to pretend you were nothing but a reporter. He’ll want to help.”

“You can’t come in for checkups ever again,” Ulaz said, “obviously. And you’ll have to go back to your old prosthetic.”

“Good thing I kept it... handy.” Shiro grinned while everyone else groaned.

“I’d like to have Coran look at the arm, if you don’t mind?” Allura asked.

“Don’t see why not,” Shiro answered. She watched his face light up. “Do you think you could find the match? Like... using the quintessence in the arm, could you locate the woman it belongs to?”

“Maybe? It’s worth trying,” she agreed. “But I’m worried about her. We need to make sure she’s safe. You don’t think they’re going to just torture her and let her go, do you?”

“She won’t go to the police,” Krolia replied, sounding confident of that. “They’ll pay her well to keep her mouth shut. If she’s going to the low-income clinic, she probably needs the money badly. She’ll go through hell if it means she has money to feed herself and her baby. Trust me.”

“We have to find her then,” Shiro said. “And get her somewhere safe, somewhere they can’t find her and hurt her again.”

“Where they can’t use her against you, either,” Allura agreed. “I’ll do what I can. Coran can help me. We’ll find her.”

“Okay, so we need a way to keep in touch with each other that’s not really obvious,” Keith said. “I hang out with Shiro a lot already, so there’s that.”

“Code words! And codenames!” Krolia declared excitedly. 

“No, Mom,” Keith groaned.

“I can text the doc?” Shiro added. 

“Allura, do you ever buy Mary Kay?” Krolia asked, sweet as honey.

“No, why?”

She grinned. “I found a way to keep in touch with Allura then! And I suppose we can keep Thace in the loop through Ulaz?”

“I suppose,” she allowed.

“I don’t know any other way to do it,” Ulaz said with a shrug. “I don’t really know him that well.”

“Well, he’s hot, but you knew that,” Krolia said. Allura watched Ulaz blush. “He rides his bike to and from work, he’s a computer nerd, always playing that one game...”

“Which one game?” Shiro asked, sounding interested.

“Uh oh,” Keith said. “Mom, did you not know Shiro’s a huge nerd, too?”

“Oh, I don’t remember what it’s called,” Krolia said. “He’s got one of those super nerdy names in it, too. Noxious Killdemon or something.”

“Wait, wait... do you mean Nix Killdevil?” Shiro asked in hushed tones.

Krolia brightened. “Yeah, that’s it! How’d you know?”

“Ohhhh, I know him,” he said. “I know him real well.”

“Nerds,” Keith said, rolling his eyes. “Can you talk to him in the game?”

“If he knows to expect me?” He glanced to Ulaz. “Tell your boyfriend...”

Ulaz protested immediately, “He’s not my boyfriend!” 

Shiro just kept talking. “...to send a Strife.net message to Jiro Sunblade. I’ll be looking for him.”

“Okay, so... anything else?” Allura asked. “Shiro and I will work on tracking down the woman; Krolia will keep an eye on the clinic patients; Ulaz and Thace will get us information.”

“I’ll do what I can to keep the police off your back,” Keith put in.

“What?” Shiro asked. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a lot of grumbling about Starlight and Paladin having just disappeared. You, uh... might need to do some community outreach, as it were. Just clean up the streets a little?”

“We’re on it,” Allura declared.

“We are?” Shiro asked, turning to smile at her.

She nodded and squeezed his hand. “We’ll go out tomorrow night.” She looked back to their allies. “Starlight and Paladin will return.”

{The Adventures of Starlight & Paladin}

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Villainous Heroics - Chapter 2

Look, let me give you the short of it. I fell in absolute love with this AU and now I have the full story plotted out to be around eighteen chapters when fully written. I have not written this much in months. It's worth it.

Note - In the original AU designed by @corndog-patrol, Hizashi worked at a McDonald's type place, but I changed that to be a coffee shop for multiple reasons - mostly because Shota is more likely to go for coffee over actual food and because I am a writer of cliches.

                 Click here to read the work on Archive Of Our Own.

                      Click here to read the work on Fan Fiction Net.

If you found yourself enjoying this, then check out my writing commissions.

                                           ⍣ I have a Patreon! ⍣                                            ☪ I have a tip jar! ☪

Summary: Eraserhead is an underground hero who is constantly busy and doesn’t have time to be dealing with new villains - even if they aren’t all that villainous and make the night interesting.

Present Mic is the latest up-and-coming villain in the world and he has a point to prove to everyone out there - as long as he doesn’t keep getting distracted by Eraserhead.

Aizawa Shota is someone who soon learns that there is more to someone than the mask they show to the world - especially when it comes to playing heroes and villains.

Yamada Hizashi learns that there is more to heroics and villainy than he could have ever thought - especially in a world where some heroes still care about those lost in the shadows.

(Inspired and dedicated to corndog-patrol’s Villain!Mic AU on Tumblr.)

                            <<First/Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

                                                 Chapter Two

Yamada Hizashi knew well what this feeling was. He had never felt it as strong as he did now, but what else could it be? Whenever he was around him, Hizashi found his palms becoming drenched in nervous sweat, his heart tripping into overtime like the beats of an EDM song, and his words stumbling over each other in their rush to get out as quickly as possible. He had known the stirrings of this feeling when he was younger and didn’t know the world as well, but now at a comfortable thirty, he knew this was real.

Hizashi was head-over-heels in love with the hero known as Eraserhead and no one could tell him otherwise! Every waking thought seemed to be filled with that suave, mysterious, and sexy man that was always quick to put an end to the fun of ‘Present Mic.’ It was like Hizashi could think of nothing else these days.

“Oi, Yamada! Get your head out of the clouds and go be cashier!” Startling at the rough voice of his boss, Hizashi hid a pout as he shuffled over to the cash register with a long-suffering sigh. Genius was never appreciated in its own time, he supposed.

“Welcome to Lovely Coffee, how may I help you on this lovely day?” If the customer noticed how unenthusiastic he was, she didn’t comment, only ordering with a monotone voice as she stared down at her phone.

Hizashi sighed and tried to focus his thoughts on work even as they kept straying back to Eraserhead. While he had heard of the hero before his villainous debut, he had never known just how funny the man was. Eraser could kick his ass into next week, had a sharp, dry wit that most people seemed to miss, and didn’t even really seem angry whenever he ran into Present Mic - although there were a lot of insults and mocking, when Hizashi reflected on it.

Well, that just meant it was a challenge to get something else out of him! Hizashi may be a villain, but he was a realistic villain with realistic goals. That meant he wasn’t going to stop until he managed to capture Eraserhead and charm him into a date that, with a good deal of luck, would end in a kiss - maybe two!

The only real problem to his master plan, though, seemed to be the fact that none of his traps ever wanted to work. If Hizashi wasn’t stumbling into them himself, then Eraserhead was disabling them with ruthless efficiency or turning them back around on Hizashi himself. He was pretty sure the police were getting a laugh out of Present Mic being brought in with his own handcuffs stuck on him. 

“Welcome to Lovely Coffee.” Maybe the problem was that Eraserhead seemed to take him too seriously as a villain. “How may I-” Hizashi’s words tangled around a startled squeak as he finally noticed who his next customer was.

“Oi, I don’t look that bad.” The words were light and amused more than anything, but Hizashi couldn’t even respond because Eraserhead was standing right in front of him. What was the statistical probability of Eraserhead coming to the coffee shop he worked at? Low. Those odds had to be very, very low. Right, okay, Hizashi was being stared at. He just needed to act natural.

“N- No! I didn’t mean- It was just- Sorry!” Well, at least he wouldn’t be mistaken for his villain persona since his hair was down and he was wearing his regular prescription glasses with the hideous, bulky frame. He also couldn’t seem to get two words out. “How may I help you?”

The man’s eyes trailed to the board behind him and Hizashi couldn’t stop a wince at how sleep deprived he looked. He knew Eraserhead worked nights primarily, but did he ever sleep? His eyes were bloodshot and worryingly red and the bags under his eyes were the size of the sun. Maybe it had something to do with the man’s quirk? Hizashi didn’t know much about Erasure, but he had certainly heard stories considering the prefecture he lived in.

“I’ll just have a black coffee in whatever size is the largest.” Oh, jeez, Eraserhead really didn’t sleep any, huh? He also didn’t seem to have any sense of taste whatsoever if he was asking for black coffee.

“Of course. No problem.” Grabbing a cup, Hizashi glanced behind the man. While there was no one behind him waiting to make him do this, this was still a great opportunity. “What’s the name for the order?”

“Aizawa.” Scribbling the name out with a marker, Hizashi tried to hide his success. While he didn’t know the man’s first name, now he knew that Eraserhead’s name was Aizawa. It… was a good name. Giving his name also proved that he didn’t know who Hizashi really was. “Can I add espresso shots?”

“Oh- Yeah! Definitely.” Really, Hizashi supposed that was unsurprising. The man looked like the walking dead. Hizashi hoped that the other would be able to take a nap, soon. “How many-”

“Six.” Eraserhead - Aizawa - looked him dead in the eyes and didn’t even blink at Hizashi’s expression - which was pure and utter terror.

“S… Six? You, um, you do know-”

“I know.” Right. Okay. Sure.

“Of course, sir. I’ll get right on that.”

While Hizashi would have been delighted to use this opportunity to get more information out of the man, he’d wait until next time they met as hero and villain. Right now, he was a poor barista who was behind on his rent, and Aizawa was a sleep deprived man who had ordered six shots of espresso in his black coffee. Hizashi was only mortal.

                                                                ::

A few nights later proved to be his next fated run in with what would one day be his star-crossed lover. Hizashi had done his research this time, though, and had been ready for every possibility - except for the manufacturer of his latest trap to be a pile of shit.

Caught up in Eraserhead’s scarf and thoroughly unable to move, Hizashi tried not to thank the man for punching him – he at least took some solace in the fact that his brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t completely broken. He also had some solace in the fact that before Eraserhead had shown up, he had dealt with a couple of gang members that were known for beating up teenagers who wouldn’t join them.

“You’re a horrible villain.” The two were face to face and Eraser looked honestly flustered, trying to catch his breath as he pushed his goggles up to rest on his forehead. Hizashi supposed he had put up a bit of a fight, this time, where he was still high off adrenaline from his first fight and the fact Eraserhead had joined him when the gang had started getting a little too pissed.  

“Does that make me a good hero?” The question slipped out before he could stop it, and he almost wished he could take it back as soon as it was out - almost. He was too curious as to how the man would respond to really want to take it back.

“No. It makes you a nuisance.” Ah, well. Hizashi could at least say he was expecting something like that - of course he was. Him? A hero? It was the funniest joke he had ever heard. A part of him that had never quite let go of that dream, though, felt utterly crushed. He quickly hid it with a wide smile.

“Ouch! You wound me, Eraserhead!” It hurt - reminders like that always hurt - but, well, the show must go on.

“I wish,” Eraser muttered, kicking at Hizashi’s heels to get him moving. Hizashi dodged the kick as he started walking, frowning at the man as he did so.

“Hey, hey, these are some high-class leather boots, you know. Do you know much time and money boots like this cost?” Dodging another kick, Hizashi decided that for as in love as he was, Eraserhead was still a little shit. “C’mon, I helped beat up some known thugs, can’t you take it easy on me?”

“You also started a bar fight earlier and threw three people out a window.” Staring for a long moment, Hizashi finally shook his head with a frown.

“I thought it was four?” He could have sworn it was four… Oh, right. “Ah, right, the fourth one was me.”

“Mm. You also robbed a thrift shop.” The look Eraserhead gave him was full of judgement. “There was a jewelry shop right next door, you know.”

“Yeah, but good people work there. The owner of the thrift shop isn’t. He’s a dick who says he’ll sell you back something at the price he gave to you for it, and instead he jacks up the price by almost ten thousand yen.”

“Is that why all his papers and receipts were on fire when I got there.” Was that amusement? Hizashi swore that was some amusement in Eraser’s tone. “That’s illegal, you know.”

“Well, I am a villain.”

Not even an hour later and Hizashi was being handed over to the police in the area, waving at Eraserhead as he was cornered with some paperwork. “Good night, Eraser. I’ll see you next time!”

“Please don’t.” There was what could have almost been a smile on the man’s face as Hizashi let himself be pushed and pulled towards his usual holding cell, the officer guiding him shaking her head.

“You know, if you need help, there are places you can get it - programs and opportunities that you could take part of.”

“Mm, no, I’m good.”

While a few of the cops, like Shelly, were sweet and genuinely concerned about those who deserved it, some of them were utter assholes who were villains in their own right. Hizashi made sure to remember who those were and let them know just how ‘annoying’ he could be when they were on duty.

The ‘regulars’ in the holding cell were much the same way. Some of them were nastier than any villain could be, but a good deal of them were just people down on their luck or in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“How’s your love affair with that hero of yours, Mic?” Swooning into the cell as soon as he was uncuffed, Hizashi clutched his heart and collapsed onto an uncomfortable metal bench.

“I’ll never recover, Lydia, I swear it. Eraserhead is my true love and soulmate and I’ll never be able to do without him again.” The woman snorted and laughed, tired expression leaving in favor of an honest smile.

“You’ll get him. Soulmates always find a way to make it work, after all, yeah?” As Lydia talked, she shifted to hide a younger girl behind her better, Hizashi frowning at the action. “Hm? Oh, Lucy. It’s her first night. Not a good one, either.”

The girl, Lucy, looked to just barely be in her twenties with a shirt a size too small and shoulders and midriff uncovered and bare to the world. Hizashi could easily see why the two were pressed into a corner of the cell, Lydia’s gaze sharp and angry on any man that got too close or let his gaze linger for too long.

“Let me tell you about bad nights,” Hizashi groaned, pitching his voice higher and aiming for dramatic as he stood up with a stretch, fighting with his jacket before getting it off. “I almost thanked him for punching me.”

“You are a wreck, aren’t you?” Lydia stared at the jacket as Hizashi held it out, only taking it when Hizashi gave a smile. “A sweet one, though.”

“Oi, oi, there’s no such thing as a sweet villain!” As soon as the jacket was around Lucy’s shoulders, the girl lost some of her tension, looking at him with a slow smile. “You’ll vouch for me, right, Lucy? I’m the meanest villain on these streets!”

“The absolute worst,” Lucy nodded, voice quiet and small as she slid her arms through the jacket and tucked it around her.

“See, Lydia? You worry so much and yet Lucy here is going to be stronger than me.” The two girls looked at him and Lydia finally gave a sad smile, shaking her head.

“Baby, what are you doing playing villain?”

Before he could answer, there was a tapping against the side of the bars, drawing their attention. “Alright, Present Mic, get over here and make your phone call.”

“Finally! Here I thought you guys were ignoring me, too!” Hizashi pouted and hid his unease at Lydia’s question as he bounced over to accept the burner flip phone, dialing up the number of his boss. “How long am I here for, this time?”

“Two days, at least.” Shelly crossed her arms, looking like a disapproving mother. “More if the owner of the bar and thrift shop press charges.”

“They won’t.” Probably. Shaking his head, Hizashi chatted an excuse as a message that his boss would hear tomorrow morning. Hopefully the man didn’t fire him, but a suddenly out-of-town trip to see his dying grandmother was probably a good enough reason to miss – besides, Jamie could use the extra hours he would be giving up.

Two days would at least give him enough time to think over his latest run-in with Eraserhead and the words that were now stuck running through his head.

You’re a horrible villain.

Baby, what are you doing playing villain?

Such a villainous quirk… Who would ever make you a hero?

Ah, well… He was doing this for more reasons than just ‘playing villain.’ Besides, if he had to be a villain, the least he could do was have a little fun with it.

[airyravenmaid]

Eye Contact

Back at it again at Krispy Kreme with more FF Versus XV bullshit. This one’s kinda wonky and really bizarre since the AU overall ties in with a KH crossover I helped make up along with personal headcanons, but can also standalone for a FFXV AU in itself. I’m just clearing that up since there is a part mentioned towards the end that nods to a world the Chocobros went to as one of their many “world detours” en route to the one they needed to go to in order to establish diplomatic relations with a potential sister kingdom also of light. ...Oh, and there are implications of another headcanon regarding a certain Immortal Marshal, but that’s a popular HC in itself, so that goes without saying. So, yeah, sorry for that; just warning y’all so you don’t get confused and want me burned at the stake.

Alright, alright, that’s enough idiotic justification rambling from me; I’m already buzzed as is and can hardly think right anyways lol. Just enjoy the crazy piece I wrote so I can try and work on the next tone. This one’s not Lightis and is more platonic bc Light’s making fray-ends with these dumb boys :3c. Maybe I can write more of her befriending the others, but we’ll see. ‘Til then, here’s this one and happy reading for those who see this! 💘

Staring back at Prompto from the caravan bathroom mirror was himself, but more clouded. He only blamed it on having just gotten up and dressed for the day not too long ago, figuring he’d taken care of everything he needed to per his morning routine. The very sight of his dull, everyday mirror reflection made him sigh a tad forlornly, but realizing the time to go was imminent only had him slap two hands to his cheeks once. Putting on his more traditional smile, Prompto gave the mirror two thumbs up as enough motivation to start the day right. No prob! He could do this, he could do this!

Upon going to exit the vicinity for the fresher outside world, Prompto rubbed whatever lingering weariness stuck by away from his eyes to clear his vision. When things still looked slightly blurry as before, he gulped. Fumbling through his smallest bag, he dug for what he thought was taken care of already. Pulling out two connected circles he knew to be his contact lenses case, Prompto opened it to find it empty, to his panic.

“Maybe I’ve still got my spares…?” Prompto hoped, rummaging through the bag to try and find more disposable lenses. He found the source box, but opening it only gave him an empty container and an expectation for a very rough day ahead. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! I’m out already?!”

“Prompto, what’s the hold up in there?” Gladio called from outside. “We gotta move!”

“Be right out! Just— making sure I didn’t forget anything is all!”

“Then do one last good check and hurry. We haven’t got all day either!”

Prompto in response called out a playfully affirmative “Aye, aye, Big Guy!” before going to search what he could of something to counteract his flawed eyesight. There was a definite solution on him, he knew, but the glasses case buried somewhere on his possession was considered a dead last resort. Otherwise, those days of having them as his sole option were over and done with. His investigation was thorough, but unfortunately, his results came up fruitless with no lenses available.

Giving up, he exited the caravan to catch up with the other four and hurry into the vacant passenger’s seat in the Regalia before it finally drove off along the world around it. His only hope now was for supplies to be low enough for warranting a pit stop at the nearest store of some sorts, or at least somewhere he can pick up some new spares. Luckily in recent days, he’d been thoroughly reminded to digitally order replacements by a certain team strategist, but there was no telling when the chance to claim them would come. A gunsman’s aim-precise eyes certainly depended on excellent vision, and in a way, so did the entire team.

“So! Ignis, where’s our next destination?” Prompto asked next to him, knowing subtlety was key in his strategy to get his lens replacements. “Anything we gotta do first?”

“Actually, our first order of business is none too far from the Disc of Cauthess,” Ignis noted. “Seems we’ve run low on a few things, and waiting to get them is out of the question.”

“I couldn’t agree more! The sooner, the better; the more supplies, the merrier! So, no need to wait on it.”

“What’s your hurry for?” Lightning inquired, suspicious. “It’s just a run-of-the-mill supply run. We’ve done them hundreds of times.”

“Oh, I know that, it’s just, umm… you never know what you’ll find there that’s useful. And I’m just curious on what’s ‘in store’ for us.”

Lightning rolled her eyes at the quip and slouched back a bit further in her seat. “I guess. Whatever floats your boat, Prompto.”

Prompto knew the excuse was flimsier than wet paper, but if it got Lightning to not interrogate him any further thanks to her lack of concern, then he wasn’t gonna complain anytime soon. His secret plot was to rightfully claim his contact lenses in the proper place, find a place to hide and put them in, and the others would remain none the wiser without being slowed down in the slightest. Until then, however, he’d be stuck in the car unable to so much as fully enjoy the moving sights around him. And what photographer could be truly happy at being unable to see the full, beautiful world that made their digital easel? So much as thinking about it made him more antsy than usual, Prompto exerting it in the form of impatiently bouncing his leg due to only so much space in the Regalia.

He was too distracted by his hasty need for his contacts that he didn’t notice the sky blue eyes of Lightning staring a hole in his skull from the seat behind him. The only feeling compelling her to stare was her good old friend skepticism. Though definitely none of her direct concern, Prompto seemed up to something. But, what was it? That answer she didn’t quite know just yet.

Ignis pulled the car up next to one of the gas tanks, his suggestion to Noctis and Gladio on filling it up for the road taken without much question from either. Lightning got up to stretch her legs and see if anything was of necessary interest in the Mini-Mart, while Prompto went a little further a distance to see if his guess was correct. To his relief, he found what he’d expected to be in the area’s vicinity. It didn’t let him stray so far from the others that the Regalia was out of sight, but it was still a bit of a walk away on its own.

Okay, en-bee-dee, Prompto kept reassuring himself. Just a little trip to the nearest little pharmacy; in and out, then nothing happened from the others’ perspective. Walking in was a lot easier when only strangers he didn’t feel as self-conscious around were also minding their own business like he was non-existent. They were oblivious to who he was as a person and everything; the perfect getaway, he could say! In and out, then he’s run about!

“Hello, Sir, how may I help you?” the optical center clerk greeted. “Are you here to pick up something?”

“Yeah. I’ve got my prescription,” Prompto told them, surrendering the proof that he was medically approved to be there. “I’m here for my spares.”

The clerk looked it over carefully, nodding once the written prescription was validated and approved. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back out with the brand. It’s the monthly ones, right?”

“Yup! I know they say ‘daily is healthy’, but… turns out it depends on the person.” Prompto let out a laugh under his breath. That was certainly not an agonizing road he wanted to go back down again. Better safe than sorry!

The clerk took about as long as they’d promised. In “Prompto Time”, however, it felt as though every second passed was a minute wasted. He nervously clung to the hope of the others not having gotten done sooner and were presently waiting on their energetic youngest member. Just when it felt like forever had almost gone by him, back came the solution to his trouble of the day. Prompto mutely sighed in relief, thanking them while taking his new supply of contact lenses and handling what he needed to in regards to officially purchasing them.

So as not to risk hitting the road blind as a bat, Prompto hurried into the nearest bathroom to put them in his eyes. In accordance with his process, Prompto removed no more than his fingerless gloves and washed the hands underneath. His studded wristbands got a bit damp from the watery suds, but he couldn’t have cared less. Under the warm gusts of the hand dryer his palms went, rubbing each other all over to eliminate every layer of water.

And now… the harder part he dreaded so much. Two tiny dome-shaped, colorless terrors waiting to torture Prompto until he was to manage in getting them over the two most sensitive organs in his head. Nonetheless, he opened the box and took out the first pair, peeling off their wrapping and concentrating on his reflection. One wrong move, and it’d be over for him and his vision. Spreading his first pair of lids apart with his thumb and pointer finger, Prompto used the other index one to use as an applicator.

“Just a little further…” Prompto gulped, shakily pressing the contact more towards the rim surrounding the stressed lavender-blue of his eye. When it got too close, he wound up giving into fear and setting his finger down to let him blink for relief. “Wait, okay, time out! I need a second…”

“You did remember to wash your hands first, right?” the sudden voice of Ignis asked from behind, startling Prompto into nearly poking his eye out with the younger’s shriek.

“Ignis! Dude, don’t do that! But, yes, I washed my hands, I promise. What— are you doing here, by the way?”

“Tracking down my AWOL friend, who I knew to be running a bit low on his own supplies. Did you find what you needed?”

“Yep! Should be good for a long while!” Prompto looked behind Ignis, even near spots most wouldn’t detect so easily. “Nobody… followed you, did they? Like say…”

“If it’s Light you’re worried about seeing you, then no, she’s waiting in the car. Even if she had followed me, I believe you’d be more than safe in the men’s bathroom.”

“Right, right! Just making sure is all! You never know, you know…?”

“I ‘know’ that there’s also no harm in her finding out about your poor eyesight. I doubt she’d care too much if she knew, anyways.”

“Well, sure, but… let’s just say some things are just better off totally left behind without the reminder. And besides, there’s no harm in not telling her, either! For now, ignorance is bliss.”

“At least, until she gets too suspicious and finds out one way or another. You aren’t exactly among the best at ‘acting natural’, Prompto. Especially when you’re nervous.”

Prompto dismissed the notion, working on getting the first lens into his eye. “I’ll be fine, Iggy. What Light will never know won’t hurt her~.”

“One way or another, something’s bound to happen. But, on the subject. These lenses? They are not meant to be worn to sleep.”

In response, Prompto first let out a mock-buzzer noise while crossing his arms into an X-shape. “Wrong, Iggy! I was sure to get the monthly ones that are a little safer. Besides, that was like one time I did that!” Seeing the raised brow on Ignis’ forehead made Prompto backtrack, knowing he’d been seen right through like glass. “...Plus— okay, maybe two others, but I know that now! Thanks… anyways, though. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I’ve enough faith in you to uphold that, but also give your eyes time to ‘breathe’ to be at your safest. And, do know that there’s no harm in a certain someone learning something new.”

Ignis left Prompto to finish putting his contacts in peacefully, having no need to tell him where to go afterwards. One down, the other to go. His fingers were shaky, but gripped the lens for dear life to do everything in his power not to drop it. At a snail’s pace, towards the other eye it went until its rim made a perfect contact around the iris. Winking a few times to get the plastic to stick, Prompto moved both eyes back and forth behind his lids, settling on a good enough feel for the new contacts in place.

“Ah, that’s better,” Prompto sighed, happy to see everything clearer than before. “Thank the Six for ‘boneless glasses’ to make my life just a little easier!”

Cleaning out his contact lens case with enough disinfecting solution and putting them in the Armiger’s storage system for ultimate safety, Prompto looked both ways and around on the outside of the men’s room. When the coast was clear, he shuffled out of the store uttering the appropriate “stealth music” as if a spy on a deathly mission. He ducked around some of the aisle shelves to hide himself occasionally, holding a long note once at the entrance before springing out of the building.

“Haha! Completely nailed it!” Prompto boasted, hurrying his way back to the Coernix Station - Cauthess while looking back at the pharmacy he’d escaped from. “And just in time to hit the— ROAD!”

“There you are,” Lightning said, knuckles on her hips and slightly hunched forward to show more of her disapproval at the spooked boy. “Missed you at the shop. Where’d you decide to wander off to?”

“N— Oh, nowhere, Light! The shop just didn’t have what I needed to pick up, so I found someplace else!” Prompto grew even more anxious at the well-known glare being as strong as ever thrown right at him. “I’m telling the truth! I didn’t go too far!”

“You’re up to something, Argentum.”

“Yeah, I am. I’d say about… five-foot-eight? Not as tall as Gladio or Ignis, but you’ve got a little catching up to do—”

“—You know what I mean, don’t be wise. What are you hiding?”

“Me? I’d never hide a thing, ma’am! I’m Prompto ‘Open Book’ Argentum, that’s me!”

“If you’re such an open book, then you’ve got no reason to be so scared of telling me the truth. What is it, already? Spill it.”

Just then, the savior in the form of the Regalia pulled up and honked the horn, courtesy of Noctis driving up front. “You two having fun over there? Whatever you’re talking about can be said in the car, too.”

“Can it, Prince,” Lightning hissed coldly, getting in one of the two remaining seats. “This conversation isn’t over, Prompto. I’m letting you know that now.”

Gulping, Prompto sat himself down in the car, giving Noctis wordless permission to drive onwards again. Thankfully, he was separated from Lightning in the back thanks to Gladio sitting between them. A bit of a tight fit considering how large the man was, but nothing close to “excruciatingly unbearable”. Even with a living barrier between them, Prompto got chills tingling his spine in the worst way possible whenever he was faced the brunt of Lightning’s infamous staredown. Six, if looks could kill, then he’d have been vaporized by now for gazing directly at such a goddess in woman form that had as much beauty as she did perseverance. All he had to do for the time being was work his way around her suspicion until she forgot about it enough, and he’d be home free! After all, how hard could that be to try and get away with…?

The next time they stopped for a while to camp out later on in the day, Prompto sought the opportunity to celebrate his new contact lenses. He did so in the form of, what else, taking advantage of the exquisite outdoor scenery. Letting everyone else know he’d return in due time, Prompto set off to a remote area of the woods with his camera in hand, on the hunt for whatever might catch his eye and become a future memory of the past. Such a moment would be even better with someone else there to also experience the magic with him, but— as much as he’d rather stay far away from the nastier parts of it— nature was bound to have something to tickle his fancy within it.

Prompto took in everything about his surroundings to see what he could do for his little “indie photo op”, as he’d put it before stepping away from camp. Tripod, check. Camera, obvious. Light source? “On fleek”! Angling? Top-notch! Alright, everything was in place and nothing nearby that he could see to mess it up. Selecting his first snapshot spot, Prompto positioned his beloved camera in its standing hold, setting the timer for when it’d go off. Counting down the seconds; three, two…!

“There you are,” Lightning interrupted, scaring Prompto into stumbling into his tripod and accidentally taking a blurred photo of the ground instead of the nice view.

“And there goes my shot,” Prompto sighed, filling his lungs with his breath and exhaling to calm himself enough. “Light, at least warn me first before sneaking up on me like a serial killer!”

“If you’re mad about your dinky little photo, just take it again. This place isn’t going anywhere, but neither am I until you tell me the truth.”

“Oi-vey, there’s just no dropping that, is there? Why do you wanna know so badly, anyways?”

“Because if it wasn’t something worth hiding, you wouldn’t be dodging the question so much. Now, fess up, Argentum. I’d hate to resort to ‘less pleasant’ ways of getting you to talk.”

Prompto found himself sweating in the brow and backing away, one step in reverse synchronized with Lightning’s forward. “There’s nothing to say, already! I’m not hiding a thing!”

“I don’t buy it. Either tell me and let me leave you alone, or don’t tell me and only make this harder on yourself. Make the right choice.”

He’d run out of options, and inner shame prevented him from potentially making for an awkward confession. So, between fighting it or flight, Prompto chose the impulsive option of the latter with his beloved camera in hand. He could always come back for the tripod later once he didn’t have a rosy-haired warrior out for his past. Although it was common sense to know Lightning was chasing after him, Prompto gave into looking back at her anyways and running faster before turning his head around again. When he did, all he received was a faceful of tree bark smacking him right against the face, his camera falling to the soft ground unharmed when his hands went to cover achingly where he got hit.

“Looks like you’re out of options, Argen—” Lightning started to say until she realized Prompto sank to the ground covering his face. Her irritation cooled into an odd sense of concern, now going over to inspect the man more carefully. “Wait, are you hurt?”

“Mmm-mmm,” Prompto got out, something crystalline falling from his left eye and sticking to his upper cheek. When he felt it, he gasped. “Don’t come any closer, okay?”

Lightning grew more worried, especially at the sight of what seemed to be a tear. Did she go too far in pressuring him into injuring himself? That was quite a run into the tree he just did… “I have to make sure nothing’s broken. Are you bleeding?”

“No! Stay back! I’m fine!”

Lightning disobeyed and removed Prompto’s hands from his face. To her relief, he didn’t seem to be bleeding or bruised, but strangely, neither eye seemed damp with any tears. How that could be was unknown to her, but then she looked closer at what was really stuck on a freckle. Against Prompto’s further protest, Lightning picked it up and squeezed it between two gloved fingers while examining it a little better. After a few seconds, she recognized what it’d been if not a salted tear of pain like she initially believed.

“...It’s a contact lens,” Lightning pointed out, still looking at it until Prompto snatched it back from her. “Why do you have a contact lens on you?”

“N— Not important,” Prompto mumbled, trying to slip the lens back into his eye, but to no avail without the proper concentration.

“Sounds so to me. Look.” Lightning knelt down in front of Prompto, getting him to look at the new gentleness her eyes now held for him, not a trace of force to be seen on her. “If this was what everything was all about, you can tell me. Unless you really are somehow secretly conspiring against the others, then I have no reason to get that much on your case over a little contact lens.”

“You thought I was—? No! Never!” Prompto sounded almost offended that she’d think that of him, but in all fairness, he was acting a little off his loop from trying to hide his secret from her. “...I dunno if I can tell you, though. I wanted to make a good impression on— well, someone who’s never met me before this.”

“You’d have better luck by being honest. Trust me, I’ve had my share of bad news, so since you’re not putting anyone’s life in danger, whatever you have in you, I can take.”

Before he could think of any other objection, Lightning sat down next to him against the tree, picking up his camera and brushing off the dirt it’d acquired from the fall. She checked it over to see if it’d gotten cracked or anything of the sort, but was pleased to hand it back to Prompto when it looked as intact as ever. Prompto frowned; there was no way out of this, was there? And it’d be rude to leave a lady unanswered when she’d so sincerely asked, so… time to face the music, it seemed. Astrals, this was gonna suck.

“Well, as you could probably guess, my vision’s not the best in the world,” Prompto confessed, a sheepish laugh leaving his throat. “That’s why I gotta wear contact lenses to— ya know, fix that. Can’t be a photographer or gunsman that can’t see, can you?”

“Then how come you don’t just get glasses?” Lightning wondered as Prompto used his phone reflection to fight the lens back over his vision hole. “It seems harder to put those things in, doesn’t it? One wrong move, and you’d never see again.”

“It’s not so tough once you get used to it and take care of them the right way. And I am never going back to wearing glasses again when I don’t have to! They look fine on Iggy, but count me out!”

“So, you did used to wear them? Why’d you stop?”

“That’s kinda where the whole ‘I’d rather not talk about this’ part comes in. When I was a kid, I didn’t just wear glasses. Believe it or not, I also actually used to be pretty chunky and more of a turtle. Always in my shell and whatnot, you know?”

Lightning didn’t say it aloud, but the revelation did surprise her. Trying to picture a younger, slightly more plump Prompto that couldn’t so much as speak his mind sounded completely foreign to her. But, he also sounded… different in telling his tale. There wasn’t the usual buoyancy to really be heard, or too much of the wise-cracking nature she was more familiar with. No, all Lightning could hear was more of a sadder little boy wearing a sunnier mask to hide a past he wasn’t proud of. She logically kept her full judgement in line, wanting to hear more to see what else there was to it.

“You don’t say?” Lightning commented. “First, on you needing glasses back then, why was that? I’d have figured a noble from Lucis would be able to afford something ridiculous like laser eye surgery, or—”

“—Eh? ‘Noble’, who? If you’re talking about me, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy there, Pink,” Prompto laughed uneasily. “I could never be able to pay for that.”

“You’re not a noble? How could that be; you’re travelling with a prince of all kinds of people!”

“I know. I’m as surprised as you are, trust me. But, alack, I am but a commoner in a group of rich men! Even so, I honest to the Six doubt Pop would have been able to afford getting eye correction surgery for me. Shit’s expensive, lady!”

“Fair enough. Then, how did you get into the Crownsguard if you’re just normal?”

Prompto’s face grew even more sullen, looking at the camera between his fingers without a hint of his usual smile. “That’s what I’d like to know. It’d be super nice to think ‘wow, all my hard work paid off, so I got to be worthy of joining’, but… I just can’t believe it’s anywhere close to the truth. Sure, I got in; lost the weight, did the work, yadda-yadda. But really, even with Pop training me to get here today, I just don’t know if I’d have done so well on my own anyways.”

“It… sounds really important to you. Then, why go through so much if you feel this way?”

“To be honest with myself? A big reason’s all because I wanted to be worth something to Noct. Oh, and that’s besides him being a prince dealing with a commoner and stuff, too. My bestie’s kinda my ‘firstie’ too, if you know what I’m saying.”

Lightning scoffed, rolling her eyes more at the mention of Noctis than Prompto’s friendship with him. “Leave it to the little snob of a prince to hold such expectations on you. He’s got two others that aren’t broken, so why rope you into it?”

“What? Oh! No, no, Pink, you’ve got it all wrong!” Prompto’s tone grew more frantic, realizing he’d planted an accidental misconception in the ex-soldier’s head. “Look, I get you and Noct would rather not wanna deal with each other, but believe me. I’ve known the guy since at least high school; he’s a total sweetheart once you see enough underneath the surface! A little crabby, sure, but he’s really not anywhere as bad as you’re making him out to be.”

“More power to you, then, because I’m not seeing it. Whatever, this is about you, not him.”

“In a way, it’s kinda both. If it weren’t for how my friendship with Noct started, then I dunno where I’d be now. Me wanting to both protect him and be a good enough friend to him is what got me started on the road to changing who I was into someone much better. I’m not sure if I’ve totally succeeded yet, but if I’ve been with him this long, maybe I’m doing something okay for once? Maybe you don’t understand what I’m saying, but to put it all simply, Noct’s done nothing but help me all these years. And all I wanna do is do it back and keep doing it for as long as possible.”

...Wow. At that moment, that was the only word Lightning could form in her mind. She may not have understood why Prompto was going to such lengths for someone like Noctis, but if there was something she did get, it was the gunsman’s process. And though Gladio and Ignis she was beyond fine with as people once she’d gotten to know enough of them, something with Prompto resonated with her in a way those two hadn’t quite achieved (at least, not yet to her knowledge). Maybe it was on the fact at not being the only common person after all Now that he’d said that to her, but whatever it was, Lightning was curious enough to know more.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t go and say I don’t understand where you’re coming from,” Lightning admitted. “To want to change so badly to make someone you care about the most happy… you’re not as off base as you think.”

“Really, now? Anyone back home make you feel that way?” Prompto wondered. “Like a best friend you’ve got yourself?”

“Yes, and no. Just know I’d do anything to see them have a good life. I can only hope I did enough to make that happen, considering every horrible mistake I’ve made.”

“Assuming they’re still around, if they seem to be doing okay because of you, then… well, lo hiciste, you did it!”

“Sh— they’re thankfully alive and breathing, but I can’t help but worry if I ever did enough or not. And even if I did, what now? Will they still need me anymore?”

‘This would be a little easier if I knew how close she was to the person she’s talking about.’ Prompto worded what he wanted to carefully. It wasn’t every day Lightning have off such a vulnerable aura, so the last thing he wanted to do was make her more upset. “If you ask me, just being able to stand by them and know you could help them go far in life sounds like reward enough. Sure, maybe you can’t be together forever and ever, but knowing you made an impact comes just as close.”

“And how would I know if my impact even mattered? For all I can tell, they could be fine without me. Better, even.”

“One way of seeing it? They may be able to live their own life just fine, but it’s hard to forget how they got to that life in the first place. If you impact enough, they’ll be sure to never take that for granted.”

Hardly even realizing it immediately, Lightning felt her heart mellow out a tad melancholically the more she thought about her most cherished protectorate. All the foolish mistakes she’d made along the way she may not have been ready to forgive herself entirely for, but in where everyone from Cocoon and Gran Pulse now were, she’d do anything to keep it how it’d become in the end. Now, of all the people to find that appeared to understand her in that way, it’s Prompto who claims such a spot.

“Those are some wise words coming from you of anyone,” Lightning told him. “Never imagined it’d be from the same person who’s compared gloves to being ‘hand condoms’, either.”

“Light, that’s only the beginning of my endless wisdom,” Prompto said proudly before simmering back down in his tone again. “But, frankly? I’m more surprised you were so willing to listen that easily. I’ve only really said all that to Noct.”

“It’d be ‘pot calling the kettle black’ if I gave you such a rough time about this. But, if you ask me, it really looks like you’re on the right track, even if you think you aren’t.”

“Can’t stop you if you wanna think that, but all I can do is keep trying and see if I can succeed. Until then, there’s no saying for sure.”

“Well, considering you’re already pulling more weight out here than any nobody could hope to, I’d say you’re making the progress you need. Hell, you’d give Sazh a run for his money if he saw how well you work a pistol. And he uses two!”

“Right! Now, for my next question; who the heck is Sazh?” Prompto in asking it sounded closer to his more chipper side, but was just as unfamiliar with the comparison.

“A friend back home. I think you’d like him just fine.” Lightning started counting off a few fingers, fishing out the similarities. “You’re both top-notch gunsmen, wise-cracking even in the tightest of situations, have a fondness for chocobos—”

“—Wait, wait, hold up! This friend of yours also sees the true glory of Eos’ finest creatures?! Do tell, Miss Farron! Don’t keep a guy waiting!”

Lightning couldn’t help but softly laugh at Prompto’s enthusiasm for once. That certainly got his attention. “It’s more his son, Dajh, that’s crazy about them. But, if keeping a chocobo chick in his hair amounts to anything, I’d say he’s a huge fan of them, too.”

“He keeps a chocobo chick in—! Get out! I’ve— that clinches it! I gotta meet this man someday! I just gotta, Pink! I’ve gotta learn his ways! How could I have been so blind?!”

Lightning pat Prompto a few times on the head, appearing to quell his innumerable excitement levels. “Easy does it, Sunspot. I’m sure he’d forgive you for taking a while to do that. But, while we’re on it, how did you get so good at firing a gun?”

“Well, I hate to keep bringing my pop into this, but back when I was still in training, he found my aim wasn’t just top-notch in taking a few snaps. Turns out projectiles are just my calling, too.”

“And I may as well ask this, too, but who is your dad? He sounds a little more than just another commoner. Is he a veteran?”

“You could say that, but you’ve met him already! He’s the same guy who sent you to travel with us in the first place!”

“What? But that was—” Lightning stopped, eyes widening when she realized who Prompto was talking about. She looked at his sunny, almost cutesy-looking mug, then comparing it to the complete 180 of his apparent parentage. “...No way. The Marshal?! Cor Leonis is your dad of all people?!”

“Yes… and no. Obviously, we’re not blood related, but he sorta adopted me as a baby. Then, eventually, he had to give me up to my… other parents. So, I guess I grew up the rest of the way with them.”

“He had to give you up? Why?”

“Guess it had to do with him being leader of the Crownsguard and all. Someone like that can’t balance such a huge responsibility and a kid, so he didn’t have a choice on it at all.”

“Then, how come you still call him your dad if he’s technically not anymore?”

“I try not to when I need to be formal or in front of other Guard members, but honestly, I still pretty much consider him my father even though I had to go somewhere else.” Prompto’s mouth flattened into another frown, this one as wistful as the ones before it. “Hard to admit, but he’s the only older adult figure in my life there enough to earn that title. My… folks weren’t exactly home too much, so I mostly had to look after myself all the time.”

“They left their kid on his own just like that?! Some ‘parents’ ya got there. Actually, I don’t think I should use that word. If they were really your mom and dad, then they shouldn’t leave their kid behind when it’s still in their control. If it wasn’t? Different story. But, that’s not the case here, is it?”

“Well, I— look, Pink, bad mouthing them isn’t the answer. Can’t change how I was brought up, so… what, huh?”

“I don’t care in the slightest. Prompto, you don’t deserve to be practically ignored by the two people meant to be there for you the most. I’m not accepting it, and neither should you, Mister.”

“It’s not like I ‘accept’ it, exactly. It’s— I just wish… you know…”

The words faded on Prompto’s tongue, but were replaced by a quiet gasp at what happened next. Of all the things to get from Lightning for any reason, her arms wrapped around his body in a strangely maternal embrace was definitely not one he expected. But, for once, it simmered his heart into steady, rather sad thumps. He didn’t find it appropriate to hug back, but it appeared Lightning wasn’t going to let go of him just yet. Although it was his primary thought, it didn’t seem to be a hug of empty pity; even at her rare warmest, the woman to him never appeared as the type to go and show something so pointless for another person. Rather, the display felt as comforting to Prompto as it did secretly unearned.

“You’re doing just fine. You just have to not quit while you’re ahead,” Lightning reassured him. “I haven’t been here as long as you four, but I’m sure they’d have said something by now if you weren’t at least close to good enough. Real friends stick by you from start to finish, but also know when you’re falling behind on what’s really crucial.”

“That sounds true and all, but…” Prompto silenced himself, shaking his head without the desire to say too much more. “Nevermind. You’re right; I shouldn’t overreact or turn into a real ‘Debbie Downer’ here.”

“I never said you were. Feeling low’s gonna happen against your control; it’s what you do with it is what makes the difference. I’m nobody to tell anyone else how to feel, but I can at least encourage you not to throw your hopes out the window just yet. Think you’d be able to do that?”

“Hmm, dunno. I’ve already got bad eyesight, so it’s not like I’ve got better ‘future sight’, either. But, man! Would if I could, Light. Would if I could.”

Lightning could feel a delicate little smile tug at her mouth corners hearing Prompto regain the laugh in his voice. “Careful what you wish for. Being able to see into the future might not be as nice as you think.”

“What makes you say that? Having that as a superpower would rock! Unless— yeah, maybe some things are just not meant to be seen before they happen. Is that why?”

“Among… other reasons people wouldn’t like it. Bottom line, I’d rather you waited and saw, and not saw and waited. You got that?”

“I gotcha! Won’t see any ESP from me, lay-dee! But, you mind if we get going? I did say I was only gonna be gone for a little bit. Don’t want everyone thinking I almost became bear chow again.”

“It is a good time to— wait, ‘again’? What do you mean ‘again’?”

“Nothing that’s not best left in the past! It was before you came along, and we’re all fine now! Don’t you worry your pretty pink little head there.”

Having done enough of interrogating Prompto for one day, Lightning left it at that and got herself off the ground. She was about to turn the other way hoping to be followed, when Prompto let out a loud, energetic gasp after looking at his camera again. Without explaining himself, he grabbed Lightning by the wrist and ran in the direction of where she’d originally chased him from. Besides not wanting to leave his poor tripod all by its lonesome, having another person with him in such a great spot was a photo opportunity just begging on its knees for him to take it.

And just who was he to up and refuse it so rudely?

“Really, Prom, we’ve gotta go,” Lightning insisted as Prompto set her up in front of the tripod and camera like a living prop. “Can’t this wait until later?”

“Not a chance!” Prompto chirped, making sure everything on his camera was all set and in position. “Why pass up the chance of a lifetime in getting a nice snap with my favorite photogenic newcomer?”

“If you wanted a selfie, then you don’t need my help with that,” Lightning quipped, hiding her smirk behind a few fingers at the consequent stunned blush on Prompto’s face born from the comment.

“Oh, fair maiden, how you flatter a clown. But, nope! You’ve gotta be in the shot; no way out until this memory’s made!” Prompto set the timer up, running to where Lightning was and readying himself for the shoot. “Smile for the camera, Pink! It loves ya!”

Lightning never really considered herself a “camera person”, but with how little time she had to think about it before the camera went off and captured her appearance in the moment, she did what first came to her mind. Giving off the most modest of her smiles, the shutter went off and immortalized the exact moment and pose the two were in. Prompto went to go look at his new photograph, rather pleased with the almost punkish way he had his tongue stuck out and the peace sign fingers on the hand belonging to the arm he’d wrapped around Lightning’s shoulders without actually making physical contact. As for his female companion in the snapshot, hers didn’t seem like anything to write home about, but nothing of it wiped even a bit away of the smile on his face.

“Another shot gotten! And this one’s the first to be blessed full-on by such a gracious presence!” Prompto beamed, making loops around the moon from how happy he was to have gotten a photo with Lightning. “Hey, why don’t you see how it came out, too? No need to let you miss out on it.”

“Why don’t you show me while we’re heading back to camp?” Lightning suggested, hauling the tripod under her arm and allowing Prompto to follow in her steps. “Nothing against you doing what you like, but we were supposed to head back a while ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! And since we’re doing it now, take a quick look!” Prompto put the camera in front of Lightning’s eyes, the screen still on its most recent picture.

“Easy with— ...oh.” Lightning saw how the photo came out, rather impressed by the expert-level accuracy and the fact that even her more mild expression didn’t lower any of the quality either. “Gotta say, for someone that needs contacts, you’ve really got an eye for the camera.”

“I’ve had two for as long as I can remember. This journey’s not gonna last forever, so I might as well make a way to capture it for as long— WHOA!”

Lightning immediately ducked and caught Prompto by hugging her arms around to his torso, pulling him back up onto his feet hiding her suppressed urge to laugh. “Maybe tell me more on the way back. While looking where you’re going, of course.”

“That can be arranged. See, it all started when…”

Ignis was in the middle of getting the last few minor touches on camp set up, at the same time Gladio and Noctis were preoccupying themselves a distance from him with a harmless sparring match. Their combat reminded him personally to take a good look at his recently acquired Mythril Knives to ensure they were ready for use next time the team was to be under attack by the forces of evil or wilderness. His ears picked up on faint chatter past the sound of swords clashing and a prince rapidly warping, further investigation informing him that the culprits were the previously absent Prompto and Lightning. The ecstatic storytelling from his blond friend was nothing new, but the interested placid smile on his pink-haired one certainly provided some questions on what happened between them in the woods.

“—Then, I got attacked by a horde of angry baboons! As if that wasn’t bad enough, this leopard comes along and tried to take a bite of me in the worst way possible!” Prompto recited to a fascinated Lightning, Ignis recalling exactly the moment in question on one of the detours taken before they’d even officially set out on their current mission. “All because I wanted to snap a pic of this cute little baby monkey I saw, too! Was that so wrong?”

“You might have just scared the thing with your camera,” Lightning guessed. “What’s harmless to people might not be so to a wild animal. It probably mistook you for a hunter.”

“Still no excuse to try and get me killed! The little…” Prompto grumbled, trailing off and ending the bitter sentence in his head. “Any jungles where you’re from, Pink?”

“Not where I’m living now, no. But, where I was born, the closest I can think of is the Sunleth Waterscape. Never been myself; my sister and a few of our friends passed through it, though.”

“Bummer. Was that awesome ‘Sazh’ guy you were talking about one of those people?”

Lightning nodded. “Him and Vanille went at the same time. Speaking of which, you act a lot like her, too. I think you almost have her beat in the ‘perky youth’ department. And… some other more personal things you’ve got in common, too.”

“I won’t make you say things you don’t wanna, but my ‘Light’s friends I just gotta meet’ list is growing!”

“Maybe when I go back home, you can find time to visit. I’m sure they’d get a kick out of you.” Lightning’s voice had a noticeable lightheartedness to it, imagining the sheer chaos of Prompto meeting her loved ones back home.

“It sounds like you two had a good time out?” Ignis inquired, finally getting the two’s attention on him. His glasses-covered eyes were particularly on Prompto asking it, who knew the reason why.

“Definitely nothing I was expecting, that’s for sure. Anything could end a lot worse, but I’m happy this didn’t.”

“That makes two of us, sister!” Prompto agreed, bringing up the new photo of him and Lightning on his camera. “And guess who also finally got the ultimate selfie today? This guy, that’s who!”

“You finally partook in one of Prompto’s photos, Light? I always thought you to be the camera-shy type,” Ignis said, scanning the camera screen with intrigue.

“I’m not much for taking them, but it came out really well,” Lightning admitted. “As long as Prom doesn’t ask me to take too many of them, I don’t mind getting another in for him.”

“Do you really mean that?!” Prompto squeaked, beyond joyous.

“I just might. I don’t have ‘future sight’ either, though. We’ll just see where things go after this.”

Lightning only left it at that after, flashing Prompto another kind glance before going over to request a sparring match of her own with Gladio after Noctis concluded his with him. It hadn’t gone past Prompto’s cleared up eyes at all, the ecstatic shutterbug still feeling his innards doing giddy flips and turns about the events that’d transpired overall. He found himself smiling with his sunny aura after Lightning, freezing when he’d caught the look on Ignis’ face, too.

“Seems you’ve made a friend in her,” Ignis pointed out. “I’d have to be halfway blind to think she isn’t starting to warm up to you.”

“You really think so?” Prompto breathed, scratching one cheek with his pointer finger.

“I’ve more than a feeling. Not as scary as you thought her finding about your contact lenses was going to be, was it?”

“Pish-pish, lucky guess. Turns out, a lot of things that’s bothered me, she’s been on the same ride just as bad.”

“And yet a lot remains a mystery about our newest comrade. However, enough has certainly come to ‘Light’ with her since she joined us.”

Prompto laughed, quickly catching onto the discreet humor. “Can’t know everything about everybody, of course. Especially since there’s some things we just don’t know the answer to.” At the same time he said that, he fixed the black bands covering his right wrist so they wouldn’t reveal anything the mystery mark underneath.

“Which is perfectly fine. Everyone has their skeletons in the closet, big or small. It’s only a matter of how people take them is what makes the difference.”

Prompto couldn’t argue with that, being unable to avoid looking at not just Noctis toying around on a favored game on his smartphone, but also Lightning performing an impressive deflecting of Gladio’s strike. He still couldn’t fully believe what happened today did, nevermind actually reaching this point in his life. And yet, somehow, here he was; still among the Crownsguard of all things, and making a new friend that turned out to be sailing in the same boat as him in a way.

Another person— Lightning, no less, was more than willing to encourage him from her own honest faith alone. She’d joined Noctis in rooting for him, so Prompto had to be a fool to do so much as consider letting her own too because he couldn’t live up to the simplest of expectations. Whether or not he was sure he’d succeed in the end aside from his personal lack of true confidence, nothing was an excuse to stop after every step taken in the first place.

Prompto tapped one closed eyelid each gingerly, making sure what stuck to his eyes behind them were both secure. He laughed once to himself. Of all the ways possible he could have shared such a deep moment in the woods with someone, it had to be over a measly pair of contact lenses. Small world, he thought. Small world, indeed.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Comfort

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Ambrose/Omega!Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: How about a Thirst Party Saturday...Wednesday pick-me-up? I was thinking an Office!AU, with that sweet, sweet Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamic we all know and love. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and of course, the campaigner for all things LaBraun, @hardcorewwetrash!

Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains threats of rape, musings on consent and general manhandling. Stay safe everyone!]

You knew that you probably should have stayed home today.

Suppressants were expensive and you had the sneaking suspicion that your script had been cut to begin with. You hadn’t felt right for months. But your doctor always dismissed your concerns as Omega paranoia and you didn’t want to make your visits any more difficult, so you just put your head down and accepted the reports without complaint.

You were very lucky after all, you had to remind yourself. Getting hired into an office setting while being an Omega was no easy task, but you’d managed to pick up some runner work that would get your foot in the door over at King’s Game Enterprises. It was only small things for the moment and you’d had to sign a waiver before you started stating that you would keep up with your dosages or face immediate termination, so you couldn’t exactly afford to have your prescription cut with sugar pills. But you had this unshakable feeling of restlessness while making your morning commute. You were tense and tight, as though you were about to jump out of your skin at any given second.

In a burst of desperation, you decided to be honest with your boss about your situation. There was an off chance that maybe, he might understand and send you home early. His wife was an Omega and he treated her like an equal.

Maybe it’ll be okay.

You gathered up their coffee orders and a few files from Alicia, then squared your shoulders and headed for Hunter’s office. Please don’t fire me, you begged mentally. Please please please.

You heard the office door click open before you were halfway down the hall and Stephanie poked her head out. “Alright, move it.” She said, not unkindly. “Smelled you a mile away.” Your heart sank. They know. She at least waited until she’d closed the office door behind you before she started in on you. “Did you not understand the paperwork you signed? Because I can find someone to explain it to you. In perfect detail.”

You bowed your head meekly and pressed her coffee into her hands. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t exactly the equivalent of coming in with a sore throat, but I don’t have any sick days saved up yet. I didn’t know what else to do, ma’am, I need this job so much.” You kept your eyes on the floor, blinking back tears. “I wanted to ask if…if maybe Mr. Hunter could send me home. Or even you, if you have that authority. I know it’s dangerous for me to be out and about like this, I swear I didn’t skip a dose. I-I take my meds, always, but I don’t feel right today and I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“I’ll get Hunter in here. You sit down.” Stephanie clicked her tongue. “Your script get swapped? Did they put you on the generic?”

“My doctor doesn’t give me my scripts, he calls them in himself. He says it’s too dangerous to have an Omega walking around with an unfilled script.” A tear slipped out and you quickly wiped it away, irritated with yourself. Stupid suppressants!

There was a loud knock on the office door and then it was shoved open, the person on the other side not even waiting for acknowledgment. “Heya’ boss one, is boss two he…” The person, a man with a mop of unruly sandy-blond hair, ground to a halt. His nose twitched.

“Perfect timing Ambrose, as ever. Hunter already call you?”

“Y…yeah.” Ambrose said slowly. He shook himself all over. “Whew, sorry. I’m back.”

“Wonderful, I’m so glad Seth is teaching you to be prompt.” Stephanie turned back to you, gesturing at Ambrose. “Dean is one of our Omega therapy Alphas. It’s a new program that some of the higher-ups initiated for the safety and comfort of people like you and me.”

“Basically we’re here to keep you okay.” Dean explained simply. He radiated calm Alpha scent, the new fragrance washing away your terror at being fired.

“We?” You asked in confusion.

Another knock sounded on the door and Ambrose moved to open it, revealing two more men. The Alpha smell, which was heady enough in the room from Dean alone, instantly thickened. Your stomach filled with warmth and you gasped for breath, dimly aware that Stephanie was saying something. Seth. Roman.

Mr. Hunter’s hand was suddenly tilting your chin up. “You still in there, kid?” Hunter Helmsley was the epitome of mated Alpha, broad-shouldered and confident in his own skin. You could see why Stephanie adored him.

You barely had the mental capacity to shake your head. “I don’t feel well, sir.” Your voice was a trembling whisper.

“It’s alright. That’s why our boys are here. Can you make it to lunch time? Two hours.” Hunter glanced at the clock. “Then, it’s only half a shift missed instead of a full one.”

Two hours. Two hours. You nodded dumbly. You could do whatever this Alpha asked. You were a good Omega.

Hunter chuckled. “Alright. The boys are going to escort you to our Omega office, okay? Scent-dampening walls like mine. We need to keep you under wraps until this calms down. You may want to talk with your physician as well, figure out what he gave you.”

“Not the right amount. He won’t listen to me.” You breathed.

“He’ll listen to Dean.” That was one of the other Alphas, but was it Roman or Seth? Seth or Roman?

“Our Alpha partner program can also accompany you to appointments, if necessary.” Hunter added gently. “They’re here to make things easier.”

The idea of having a strong, secure Alpha with you in the doctor’s office made your chest ache with longing. You whined without meaning to, blushing and covering your mouth. “Sorry, I just…”

“Don’t apologize, Omega. We understand.” Seth (or was it Roman?) took your hand, sending tingles through to your fingertips. “C’mon, before everyone in the building is banging on Hunter’s door.”

Roman (or was it Seth?) opened the door for you, making you flush even hotter than before. Normally only mates were offered the courtesy of having a door held for them. Dean came up on the other side of you, the two Alphas flanking you in the hallway while the third brought up the rear.

You finally got up the courage to whisper, “Are you Seth or Roman?” to the dark-haired man at your side.

“He’s Seth, I’m Roman.” The young man behind you answered, making you glance over your shoulder to look at him. He gave you a small smile, as though he was doing his best to soften his hard features. “Roman Reigns, Alpha at your service.”

“Um, no offense to any of you but…why were you guys picked for this?” You asked awkwardly.

“Even temperament, mostly.” Roman replied, shrugging.

“I don’t get nuts around Omegas. Hormone imbalances.” Dean said shortly.

“And I’m too smart to lose my cool.” Seth added smugly. “We aren’t like those other Alphas, butting heads over a piece of ass.”

“Rollins.” Roman’s tone held a sharp note of warning.

“Sorry, sorry. Not to imply that you’re a piece of ass or anything.” Seth apologized hastily. “You’re an Omega, and an Omega that doesn’t want to sit at home and do nothing! Pretty rare.”

“Sitting around is only good until the bills need to be paid.” You commented dryly. “Wait, how am I supposed to do my job if I have to-”

“Ambrose is going to be with you when you’re running errands, okay?” Seth murmured, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not ideal, I know, the space in here is kinda’ tight. But if something happens while you’re in our care, Hunter will eat us alive.”

Dean opened the door to the Omega office and stepped in, gesturing for you to follow. “C’mon, let’s sit you down for a minute. How you feeling? Doing okay?” He asked kindly, touching your forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t feel fevery.”

“I’m just nervous, mostly. Restless. Like it’s hard to breathe. I mean, it’s not actually hard to breathe, but like how you feel when it is?” You fumbled to explain. “Chest is kind of tight.”

Roman had pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, the well-built Alpha turning to a fresh page before clicking his pen. “Can I get the name of your primary care physician, and a rough estimate of how long he’s been cutting your medication? Mr. Helmsley will need it for your file.”

“Oh, b-but I have no proof-”

“Your body is out of sync. Unless Hunter--er, I mean, Mr. Helmsley, has put you under a significant amount of stress, there’s no logical reason for you to be feeling like your lungs are too small.” Seth raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you have anything going on outside of work that could contribute to the level of discomfort you’re dealing with. Shortness of breath is a pretty common complaint in Omegas once their meds are switched.”

“According to my primary, every complaint is a common complaint for someone like me.” The statement came out more bitter than you intended and you grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, this is good information to have. With your consent, Dean will accompany you on your next appointment.” Roman continued to write for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Ah, when is your next appointment?”

“I had made an emergency one for tomorrow, a cancellation happened and I picked up the slot. Waste of a day off, but I was really hoping to talk some sense into the doctor.” You said weakly. “Or at least try. It’s...hard. He has me strip down and put on the examination gown before he’ll speak to me and I just…I mean it’s a vulnerable situation for someone like me and I don’t really have anyone to come with me.” You were so relieved that someone might be taking you seriously, the words just came pouring out. “I know he doesn’t like Omegas so I just try to make everything simple but now I’m sick or confused and I’m scared, what if there’s something really wrong with me?”

“Easy, easy. Look, I’m gonna’ go grab you a soda from the break room stash. We’ll get some sugar into you, perk you back up. Like Mr. Helmsley said, if you can duke it out for two hours you’re in better shape.” Dean reminded you, heading for the door. “Everything’s gonna’ be just fine. I can come with you tomorrow, I don’t have any prior assignments.”

Of course, as soon as the words were out of his mouth the door flew open and half the contents of the IT department poured into the office. Drew, Tony and Perkins led by one Brian Kendrick who shouted, “There! I told you I smelled heat in the hallway!” pointing an accusing finger at you. You were frozen with fear. The small room was packed with Alphas and Betas now, crowding in on you from all sides.  The air was thick with different smells and the snap of hungry teeth and this is why you can’t have a job this is why you need to stay at home-

“Ambrose!” Seth yelled over the hubbub. It must have been something they had rehearsed, because you were suddenly pulled tight to Dean's chest.

“Face into my collarbone, breathe in. Breathe out. Don't look at them, focus on me.” Ambrose said calmly. There was the sound of a solid impact behind you and Kendrick abruptly stopped hollering.

“You're all really gonna' let this yappy son of a bitch rile you up into acting like a bunch of animals?” Roman asked, his voice low and irritated. “Get out. All of you! Out!”

You whimpered and Dean cupped the back of your head, humming comfortingly. “It's alright. He's a friend. You're safe with me.” He soothed. “We're on your side. Nothin' is gonna' happen to you while I’m here.”

“I'm going to talk to Kalisto and Mustafa. This is some bullshit.” Rollins grunted angrily. “Jesus Christ, that was a fucking nerd mob.”

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, sounding concerned. A large hand covered Ambrose’s on the back of your neck and you relaxed a little into Dean. “Go talk with the smart ones, Seth. We’ll stay put with them until you get back.”

“My legs are going to give out in a second.” You warned thickly.

“Grab the chair, Reigns.” Dean ordered. You closed your eyes, the sound of your swallow loud in your ears. “I’ve got you. Focus on my voice, calm that breathing down so you’re getting enough air.” Ambrose coached, settling you into the chair.

Roman’s hands rested on your shoulders, keeping you upright in the seat. Ambrose shifted in between your thighs, the comfort you felt at his presence a little startling. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you while one of us is here.” Roman said firmly.

“Promise?” You whispered, opening your eyes.

Dean stared back at you until you glanced away, unnerved by the intensity of his look. “Promise.” He replied softly.

…

“Clothes stay on. No, fuck you, their clothes stay on. You’re not bullying them anymore, got it asshole?” Dean rasped, looking like he was inches from pinning your doctor to the wall. “I’m here with them. Now do your damn job and explain what’s happening.”

You hadn’t taken two steps into the examination room before your primary care physician had gestured at the gown on the table and barked at you like he always did. But Ambrose didn’t take kindly to that, the light-haired man glaring holes through the old Alpha doctor. “You can’t threaten me in my own practice!” The older man sputtered.

“They have the right to be treated with fucking dignity, not like they’re an inconvenience. Shit, they’re sick and scared and you’re over here playing high and mighty!” Dean snapped. “What’s the story, huh doc? What’s your issue?”

“Omegas are breeding machines with hysterical, hypochondriac tendencies. My issue is that I’m having my time wasted.” The doctor answered primly.

“This is an Omega who’s got shortness of breath and their heats are getting worse even though they’re taking their suppressants. You’re the one writing their scripts; you’re the one who switched them to a generic without asking them first and then, you cut their doses in half!” Ambrose was fairly roaring at this point. “Feeding them some bullshit story about how they couldn’t take their own script to a fucking pharmacy! ‘Course they can, most Omegas do!”

“I’m not going to stand here and be accused of-”

“Accusing you? Buddy I haven’t even shown you my evidence. I’m flat-out condemning your ass. I have invoices. Faxes. Pages and pages of scripts with your name all over them. I suggest you fucking play ball with my Omega, or King’s Game is gonna’ raze your little pop-up clinic and turn it into a fuckin’ penny candy store.” Dean bared his teeth. “You feel me yet, doc?”

“I…” Your doctor paused, looking like he’d had the rug yanked out from beneath him. “Listen, this is standard procedure for Omega-exclusive practices, I can’t just-”

“You’re diggin’ a pretty deep hole for yourself, doc. You tryin’ to tell me that there’s more guys like you out there, purposely fucking up people’s lives?” Dean snarled.

“It’s the way things are.” Your doctor replied with a weary air. “We need to perpetuate our species one way or another. I don’t expect you to understand, you don’t smell quite right yourself.”

“You’d better watch that nose around me, doc. I’ll bite it off.”

“Aside from your own issues,” Your doctor continued, looking much more pale, “I can’t just up their dosage on a whim, this-”

“Hey, you’re not talking to me. Talk to them. This is their health at stake.” Dean growled.

“Fine.” Your doctor turned toward you with a huff, still not meeting your eyes. “It will take weeks for the suppressants to regain their previous effectiveness. A gradual increase is the only way to straighten you out. If, of course, this is all true.” The doctor didn’t seem to be able to help tacking on the snide remark at the end.

Dean was all over him like a bad suit, fists digging into the older man’s white jacket. “You keep this attitude up and I’ll bite your nose off for free.” He threatened. “This is your last warning to cut the shit. Write them the correct script or so help me God, my people will call your people.”

You just sat there wide-eyed, barely believing what you were watching. Dean was going to bat for you like you were his, radiating scents of fury and Alpha. Your body lit up with excitement and you barely kept yourself from begging Ambrose to mate you until you couldn’t remember your own name. Your face flushed. Where had that desire come from?! You had never been that forward before!

Ambrose kept up the rumbling threat of a snarl in his chest while your doctor printed off some new paperwork, the younger Alpha quickly yanking it out of the older man’s hands and then passing it to you. “Let’s get you taken care of, okay?” Dean murmured, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steer you out of the examination room. “I know a guy, Doc Swagger. I’ll give you his number for when this script runs out.”

“Wow.” You breathed.

“Too much? I wanted him to take you seriously. I wasn’t sure whether ‘upset mate’ would work, so I went with ‘upset bad cop’.” Dean sounded worried. “Did I overstep?”

“Oh no, gosh. I’m just…a little hot is all.” You admitted, flushing.

“A little h…oh. Oh.” Ambrose paused, then gave you a grin. “Yeah? You think maybe you like when I get tough?”

“No! I do not!” You protested frantically, watching his grin widen. “I’ve never had anyone defend me like that is all and I don’t…I mean I’m not…look, I don’t want to offend you.”

“Offend…?” Ambrose raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. “I think you’ll have to try harder than that.”

“Well because I’m an Omega. And…and I can’t control myself as well as I should.” Your flush was from shame now. “It’s not fair to you that you have to deal with me all…messy like this and probably smelling like a...I-I don’t mean to be this way. It’ll be so much easier once my medication is evened back out.” This was so embarrassing. You had never felt smaller in your whole life. “I really don’t mean to be this way, I know what you must think of me.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with how you smell.” Dean finally murmured after a minute of silence, his back ramrod straight and that teasing smile gone from his face.

…

Hunter assigned Dean to you permanently when he saw how well the two of you were getting on. He mostly just seemed pleased that the program was a success and that you could get your work done with minimal interruptions.

There were no more outbursts from the IT department, and if anyone so much as twitched their nose at you it seemed like Ambrose was at your elbow, brandishing a stapler with deadly intent. His methods were a bit more…hands on than you would expect from someone in an office setting, but you were grateful all the same.

“I ain’t hurt anyone for real in years.” He confided in you one day while you were making copies, his lean frame towering over you. He tended to station himself to the side of you if he could help it, stating that he didn’t want to loom. “Used to pretty often though. This little program is good for me, I think.”

A huge pair of hands abruptly clamped down on your hips before you could respond, and you were rudely hoisted into the air and dropped to the side to free up the copier. “Out of my way.” Brock from Financial grunted.

“Hey!” Dean snapped, his expression gone fierce. “You don’t fucking touch them, Hunter’s orders!”

“What makes you think I give a flying fuck about Hunter’s orders?” Brock snorted derisively, “The little go-fer with slick-reek was taking too long. I have important work to do.”

You blushed hotly with shame, hoping that you didn’t actually smell like slick. How incredibly embarrassing!

“You can ask them to fucking move.” Ambrose’s fists clenched. “Or you can wait.”

“Copies really worth getting your panties in a wad over, Ambrose?” Brock’s grin was infuriating, arrogance shining through in his slouched posture.

“Certainly seemed like it was to you, Lesnar.” Dean scooped up the copy that Brock had made before the other Alpha could reach it, quickly ripping the page in half.

“Your maturity knows no bounds.” Brock sighed.

“Were you all set with the machine?” Dean asked you, studiously ignoring the massive Alpha blocking the door. You nodded quickly, not wanting to cause more trouble. You could always come back on your way out, after all. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Lesnar.”

“You do realize that they’ll fuck anyone, Ambrose. Regardless of how that person treats them.” Brock chuckled, his nasty smile back full-force. “Isn’t that right, little Omega? I bet you’d love it if I shoved up your skirt and just-”

“Stop!” You said while shaking your head violently, unsure at first if you were trying to shut him up or trying to keep your thoughts from circling on the visuals his words were eliciting. Normally you would have been thrilled at the idea of an Alpha offering you any sort of attention, especially attention that might ease the hot shivers in your stomach. But all you could focus on was the brief flash of a wounded look that crossed Ambrose’s face and the nausea that was building in your throat.

“Man, why the hell would you say something like that? Were you raised by wolves? Jesus.” Dean seemed more offended than anything else, moving until he was between you and Brock. “I mean shit, what’s your problem? Mommy issues? Daddy issues? Tiny penis? All three? Get the fuck away from them.” He gave Brock a hard shove, clearing the doorway. “Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.” Dean urged you, making you scramble for the hall.

You slid down the wall once you were in the hallway, tucking your knees up into your chest. Brock had done nothing but make everything worse, your face still hot from the notion that you might smell like slick and be unable to do anything about it. You got unsteadily to your feet and fled to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall and resting your forehead against the door. Too late you realized you had forgotten your copies in the hallway, and tears choked your throat. Why was this so hard? Why did you have to be so stubborn about this job? Plenty of Omegas stayed at home, raising babies and keeping house. Why couldn’t you?

Maybe the suppressants failing was a blessing in disguise. Maybe…maybe you should be one of those Omegas. You had been so sure of yourself, and look where it had gotten you! Huddled up in a bathroom stall, your stomach rolling and tears dripping down your face. And now your nose was running. You thumped your head against the stall door and then flinched back when the bathroom door opened with a loud bang!

“Omega?” It was Dean, whispering as loud as he could. “You in here?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, unlocking the stall and opening the door. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor. “Sorry I ran. I know you have the worst job in this place and I’m not exactly making it easier by taking off on you.”

“Hey, I get it. You were scared, maybe a little embarrassed. Don’t listen to anything that asshole says, okay? He’s just pulling the same shit every other Alpha and Beta does, trying to guilt or threaten you into boning them.” Dean said bluntly. “Like I need to tell you that, like you don’t already know.” He laughed weakly. “And what the heck do you mean by ‘worst job’?”

You just shook your head, finally raising your eyes to look at him. He had a new graze on his cheek, the small cut oozing blood down the side of his jaw. “Oh, what happened?” You asked unhappily, reaching out and wiping the blood off with your thumb.

“Caught the side of the copier funny. It made that low toner warning t-turn off though, so I think I fixed it.” Dean’s voice hitched slightly and you hastily pulled your hand back.

“Sorry, I…reflex.” You apologized, tired to death of blushing. But you shouldn’t have touched him! He wasn’t yours, after all, and it was a little frowned upon when an unmated Omega went around touching unmated Alphas unnecessarily. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright.” Was all Dean said in reply, jamming his hands into his pockets. When you caught sight of his hands later on in the day, you noticed his knuckles were scraped open in a few places.

I ain’t hurt anyone for real in years.

What did he consider ‘for real’?

…

Your heat cycle ended and life returned to normal for the most part. Dean no longer needed to accompany you everywhere and he said as much, pressing the phone number for his doctor friend into your palm. “I’ll see you around, Omega.”

You scolded yourself for your daydreaming, sentimental tendencies on the way to your appointment with Doctor Swagger. You felt guilty for the trouble you must have put Dean through during your cycle and you were hoping this new doctor would be able to help you manage yourself better.

Doctor Jack Swagger was the largest Omega you had ever met, the blond man standing head and shoulders over you when he shook your hand warmly. “The usual? I doubt you want to spend your whole day off in my tidy little exam room.” His easy demeanor was a complete change from your prior physician and you found yourself relaxing. “Ambrothe recommended me, huh? I’m flattered.” Swagger grinned. “He’s normally all teeth when I have to poke and prod him, poor bastard.” He patted the examination table. “Alright, quick checkup and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

True to his word it wasn’t long before you were on your way, the fresh script for name brand suppressants tucked safely into your pocket. Swagger said he had already called the order in, but that “it might be a good idea for you to have the script in hand, so they can cross-reference it.” Which you were sure was his way of letting you know that he wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to be certain you were getting the right product.

You were grateful that he seemed to understand your plight. But then again, who knew what kind of trials he had been through? Nobody could have believed he was an Omega, as huge as he was. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. Of course, not every Omega was going to be small-boned and delicate, the world just didn’t work that way. People like you did lean towards the diminutive, but an Omega’s size wasn’t nearly as much of an issue as it would be for, say, a shorter Alpha.

There were plenty of other things people could find wrong with Omegas. Size was an outlier.

You shook your head at yourself. Those thoughts weren’t going to do you any good. Everything would be okay now! You would be back to your usual self in a few months and hopefully you could still see Dean every now and then--

No! Stop it! That’s not how this works! Just because he had treated you decently, just because he was required to keep you safe when you were more likely to have a lapse in judgment? You were a job, that was all. Something to keep Mr. Helmsley signing checks for him. Nothing was going to change that. I don’t get any say in the matter, you thought sadly. He’s not mine and he’s never going to be. Might as well get used to it, no Alpha is going to so much as look at me unless I’m in heat.

…

The next time your cycle came around, you were caught off guard. It was almost two weeks early! You did your best to remain calm on the drive to work, calling ahead to let Stephanie know you would be a little late. Dean met you at the door, his expression carefully neutral. “Again?” You nodded, biting your lip. He grunted, taking off his heavy leather jacket and dropping it over your shoulders. “That ought to mask it, at least for now. How do you feel?”

“Queasy.” You admitted, snuggling down into the coat and tucking your nose into the collar where Ambrose’s scent was cloyingly thick. It was pitiful and you knew it, saying as much when Dean gently took your arm to lead you in. “M’sorry, your jacket is going to smell all gross.” You mumbled.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t mind your smell? Damn.” Dean huffed.

“What if people think you’re my mate because my scent is all over your stuff?” You continued over him worriedly. “What if Brock comes after you?”

“That’s kinda’ the point.” Dean said matter-of-factly, making you pause. “Look, I’m here to help you avoid conflict. No one said I had to fight fair.” His smile was crooked. “I just hope you can deal with the group of people who will pity you.”

“Pity…?”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly a prime cut of Alpha steak.” He shrugged. “Not really much interest. Hell, I’m scrawny when you look at Reigns or Rollins.”

“I don’t think you’re scrawny!” You protested, touching his hand on your arm. “You’re trim.”

“Is that a thing? Sure, okay. I’m ‘trim’.” Dean chuckled. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

“Not every Alpha needs to be huge, y’know.”

Dean fell silent at your words and you wondered if you had annoyed him. His hold tightened momentarily on your arm. “Come…come in here for a second.” He muttered finally, ushering you into an empty conference room.

You were instantly on guard, your death grip on the jacket around your shoulders the biggest oxymoron you could think of. Ambrose left the door to the hallway slightly ajar, and he leaned against the wall beside it.

“Look, I don’t want you thinkin’ you owe me for this uh…well, whatever it is that I’m doing. Escorting, I guess. I was trained to do this, okay? It’s not like I moonlight in HR or somethin’, this is what I clock in to do. So you ain’t gotta’ be delicate with me, alright? I’m a big kid.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t understand.” You said slowly, feeling like that was the best course of action.

Dean dragged a hand through his hair. “You…what you said. Not that I don’t appreciate hearin’ stuff like that, mind you. I don’t want to think that I’m…fuckin’, inadequate. And I usually don’t think that way anyhow. But you don’t have to say stuff just to make me feel better. Like I said, I’m a big kid.” He tried for another smile and it was even less convincing than his previous attempt. “Now, let’s get you to your office.”

“But-” You began to protest, bewildered.

“Please. Drop it.” Dean said softly, his hand tucked back into the crook of your elbow. “Seriously.”

You nodded, not really wanting to but understanding that he was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. And wasn’t that odd, an Omega trying to make an Alpha feel at ease! “Hey, if you ever need to talk to someone…”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Oh, you had definitely upset him. His words were clipped and short, bitten out. “What’s up with me is my own business, Omega.”

“Yeah, but if you have to babysit on top of that-”

“I’m not babysitting you.”

“You literally put your coat on me and now you’re leading me along this hallway like I’ve never been here before. Face it, you’re a babysitter.” Your stomach twisted suddenly, robbing you of your breath and making you stop in your tracks. “Oh.”

“Omega? Shit.” Dean swore, glancing both ways before propping you up against the wall. “It's okay, you’re alright. You’re alright, it’ll pass.” He said softly, brushing your hair back from your face.

You tried to focus on his voice, tried to focus on his hands on your shoulders. “Dean-” You whispered.

“Shh, you’re alright. Breathe.” Dean urged and you nodded, trying to be obedient for this Alpha. “Just keep breathing, you’ll be okay. Nothing bad is gonna’ happen while I’m here, I promise.” His eyes lowered. “Is it your stomach?”

“Y-Yeah.” You choked out. “Hard to breathe-”

Dean grimaced and spread his palm flat on the lower portion of your stomach, applying firm, even pressure as he worked his hand in small circles. The heat of his fingers bled through your blouse and you whimpered, quickly biting down on your knuckles to stifle the noise. “Easy now, just relax into me.” He rasped, his voice rougher than usual. “I’ve got you.”

The pain in your stomach dissipated almost as quickly as it had arrived, and you held onto Dean’s arm while you tried to regain your balance. “What…God, I feel like I just ran a marathon.” You said finally, making Dean snicker.

“You probably blew through your caloric intake for the week. Let’s get you to the office and then I’ll find you a snack.” Ambrose’s hand stayed on your stomach, supporting you during the rest of the trek to the Omega office. You wanted to wonder at that, but you quickly crushed the notion. He was doing his job. Nothing more, but definitely nothing less.

He kept closer than he usually did, touching you with some part of his body for the majority of the work day. Fingertips, his jeans brushing your slacks or his arm bumping your own in the narrow hallways. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but after his curt behavior earlier it was entertaining to a degree. And confusing.

“I just don’t think I could do it.” He muttered out of the blue.

You glanced up from the pile of mail you were trying to sort, seeing that he was fiddling with his phone. “What?” You asked, making him jump.

“Oh, sorry. That was supposed to be in my head. My bad.” Dean apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinkin’ about…well, it doesn’t really matter.” You raised an eyebrow and he swallowed hard, the sound seeming over-loud in the quiet room. “Uh. Jesus, if I hadn’t seen you earlier I’d swear you were an Alpha. You’ve got the stern look down pat.”

“Oh?” You wrinkled your nose, unsure if you were being complimented.

Ambrose practically lunged across the desk to pick up one of the bottles of water he had grabbed earlier, clumsily popping the cap on it and downing half the contents. “Okay, alright, you win, you can’t do that shit with your nose.” He gasped once he was done. “Look, it wouldn’t work between us. I ain’t never even thought about dating an Omega before!” Dean sounded outright panicky and you got the feeling his mouth was miles ahead of his brain as he rambled, “I mean, I have thought about it, yeah, but it scares the shit out of me. I just--if-if they have some kind of wave and I ain’t around, what happens? What fucking happens? People talk a lot of shit but there isn’t any hard proof, do Omegas want to bang whatever whenever? And if they do, why would--”

“Listen, I’d love to answer but I can’t. If I told you I’d have to kill you. Official orders from Omega higher-ups.” You interrupted Dean pompously, barely holding back your giggles when he gave you a wide-eyed look. “What, you don’t know about the network? We have influential Omegas stationed at key points across the globe, Dean. There’s nothing Alphas or Betas can do without us knowing.”

Understanding dawned on Dean’s face and he shoved your shoulder, giving an embarrassed laugh. “Shut up, I was bein’ serious y’know.”

“I don’t really know the answers.” You admitted. “I’ve been on suppressants since my first heat, and up until relatively recently they worked fine. So I couldn’t tell you. I doubt Omegas actually want to bang whatever whenever, but hormones are a funny thing. Especially if they’re combined with a fertile Alpha or Beta. Your scent makes me weak in the knees, sure, but I’m not about to jump you. With the half-strength suppressants the hardest part was dealing with the mental images.”

“Oh. Like when Brock was-”

“Ew, Jesus, don’t remind me.” You cut him off, covering your ears. “It was bad enough in the moment, God. I wanted to die.”

“Why do people do that shit to you guys?” Dean asked, “Just to get you wound up? Give you some kind of picture that’ll make your body feel even worse until you get some relief?”

“So that they can conveniently offer to be the relief.” You shook your head. “Guilting and manipulating an Omega into mating while they’re in heat ought to be a punishable offense. Nine times out of ten we aren’t in our right minds, how are you supposed to get consent out of someone who can’t even remember words anymore?”

“And that’s the ticket right there, isn’t it.” Ambrose growled. “Fuckin’ pieces of crap get an Omega riled to the point of incoherence and have their fun.” He gave you a sidelong look. “That uh, that something that’s happened to you?”

“No, not me personally. I’ve been very lucky.” You replied softly.

“Well you ain’t gotta’ rely on luck anymore, okay? I’m here. I’m not particularly lucky myself, but what little I’ve got I’ll happily spread thin for ya’.” Dean cracked his knuckles, looking very serious. “That’s why I signed on to this program anyway, figured if my Alpha hormones are fucked I might as well do some good.”

“How are they messed up?”

“Ah, I get weird dry spells. Months, sometimes. I’ve got some meds to regulate it for when the spigot turns back on, mostly because if I didn’t I could probably tear a stack of phonebooks for kicks. It’s like testosterone overload, I can’t get a straight thought through my head even with the meds. I’ll be like ‘I need food’, then two seconds later I’m out climbing my fire escape, stealing tomatoes off the balcony of the guy who lives above me.” Dean shrugged. “Probably naked too, if I know myself.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah, I’m uh, not too bright when I get that way.”

…

Friday had come at last. It had been a long week and you were definitely looking forward to some time off. Ambrose was more fidgety than normal, to the point where it was actually getting on your nerves. Usually you barely noticed it, but today Dean seemed like he was trying to tap and shimmy his way out of his own skin.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked, much sharper than you had intended.

Dean flinched, not meeting your eyes when he looked up and instead focusing on a point by your shoulder. “Yep.” He said shortly.

You quirked an eyebrow at his behavior, getting to your feet and smoothing the wrinkles out of your skirt. “Hey, if something is wrong you can tell me, you know. I’m not in anyone’s pocket just yet.”

“I just have to get through this shift. I’d appreciate it if you would drop it.” Was his stiff reply.

“Is it something that I did?” You asked worriedly, thanking God that you were at the end of your heat and your flush wasn’t quite so neon. “Did I say something? Did…did Brock do something?”

“This ain’t got anythin’ to do with you!” Dean said, his voice rasping badly when he raised it. He deflated almost immediately. “Sorry, I’m…sorry. I promise it’s not anything that you did. I just gotta’ get through today. I’m trying real hard to keep my cool here, Omega.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked, lowering your own voice and crouching so you were at eye level with him. Dean still wouldn’t look you in the eye, awkwardly shifting in his chair. “Hey, I’m serious. You take such good care of me all the time. Do you need a water? Something to snack on?”

“It feels like someone cranked the knob up to eleven and then snapped it off.” Ambrose mumbled, not answering your question. Then, “If something happens…”

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m running down the hall to the lounge, getting you a water and some chips, then coming right back. Three minutes tops.” You promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “Let me take care of you.”

Ambrose groaned loudly, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his temples. “Alright, okay, fine. Just be careful. Three minutes. I’m coming to get you if you’re not back.” He threatened half-heartedly, making you snicker while you stood.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” You eased into the hallway, making sure it was empty before you closed the door behind you. As you made the short walk to the break room, you wondered whether this was the beginning of Dean’s own proverbial hell week. Your heart went out to him if it was, you of all people understood that having your body go to war with itself was not a fun experience.

The vending machine was devoid of chips, but there were a few packets of crackers available. You fed it your change and then huffed in annoyance when the crackers got stuck in the dispenser. Pounding your fist on the side of the machine did no good, and you resorted to shoulder-checking it until it rocked enough to drop the crackers. “Ha!” You said triumphantly, retrieving your prize and turning around.

Brock was so close you all but walked into his chest and your heart sank to your shoes. “Well well well, if it isn’t the office pet. Where’s your cuntlicker?” Brock leered down at you.

You swallowed hard. Cuntlicker? “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Omega bitch. Where’s Ambrose?” Brock’s tiny eyes narrowed even further. “I owe him for the other day, after all. Maybe I ought to have you suck me off as an apology.”

“What makes you think I would agree to something like that?” You snapped, ignoring the faded response of your body that clamored to be claimed by an Alpha.

“I don’t need you to agree-”

“If you don’t want me to bite your cock off, I feel like my agreement is incredibly important.” You snarled, surprising yourself with your own aggression. “Also? Not even if I was out of my mind with heat, Lesnar.”

“Is that fucking so?” Brock’s hands crushed your shoulders, the large Alpha hefting you up and pinning you to the wall without so much as a noise of exertion. “Try again, Omega bitch.”

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” You struggled in his grip, kicking your legs and wriggling wildly. “You don’t own me, no one owns me, no one has any right to treat me like this so fuck you!” You proclaimed furiously. “I’m nobody’s sweet little Omega and I will tear your dick off if you touch me again!” You were screaming at this point, so incredibly outraged that you were seeing red.

“What are you gonna’ do to me? You can’t even fight back.” Brock sneered. “Until I decide to let you go, you’re stuck. So do me a favor and stop wasting my time, little bitch.” His fingers dug in harshly but instead of crying out in pain you spat at him, refusing to be cowed. “I know you’re gonna’ change your tune the second you see my cock, you Omegas are all the same. Once I wreck you, Ambrose won’t come within thirty yards of your sorry ass.”

You jerked your head to the side and sank your teeth into his hand. Brock responded by slamming your back against the wall so hard you saw stars for a second.

“Don’t push your luck-”

The door to the room opened and Ambrose half-fell through the doorway, barely catching himself in time. “What are you fuckin’ doing?” He asked Lesnar bluntly, his teeth clicking loudly at the end of the sentence. Dean looked feverish, his hair messy and eyes wild.

I’ve got some meds to regulate it for when the spigot turns back on, mostly because if I didn’t I could probably tear a stack of phonebooks for kicks.

You gulped. “Ambrose why are you so fucking obnoxious?” Brock grunted. Dean didn’t bother to respond, he simply latched onto Lesnar’s fingers and peeled one of his hands off your shoulders. You dropped to the floor and then with an ugly twist of his wrist, Ambrose snapped every finger on Brock’s hand.

“Keep it up, Lesnar. Give me an excuse t’ send ya’ ass t’ the fuckin’ ER.” Ambrose snarled. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time? I figured you’d appreciate the black eye, but I guess you’re more hands-on than that.”

“You broke my fucking fingers!”

“You had the Omega trapped, not much choice.” Ambrose shrugged. “My job description is ‘any means necessary’.” His footing was unsteady, the slender man almost falling over when he managed to pull you upright. “Are you alright, Omega? Anythin’ hurt?” He asked, straightening out your blouse clumsily.

You threw your arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as you could. Dean stiffened for a second before he returned your embrace, holding you tight to his chest and cradling the back of your head like he had the first day you had met.

“Are you alright?” He asked again, quieter this time. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, I’m okay. I had it under control.” You selfishly buried your face in his shirt, inhaling his scent deeply.

“I noticed.” Dean whispered.

“You're gonna' fucking pay for this, Ambrose!” The larger Alpha swore, easily ripping Dean away from you and delivering a blow to the smaller man's jaw that snapped his head to the side. “After I'm done with you, you'll eat through a straw for the rest of your life!” Brock raged, his broken hand cupped to his chest.

Dean shook his head and then bared his teeth, blue eyes wide and pupils blown in a fixated stare. “And I was gonna' let you live, too.” He rasped, giving a harsh bark of mirthless laughter. He caught your arm and pushed you towards the door, his fingers lingering on your skin longer than he needed to. “Get Hunter, Omega. Be good for me, okay?” His scent was saturated with Alpha smell, strong enough to take your breath away.

“But-!”

Ambrose didn't have another second of attention to spare, throwing himself bodily at Lesnar and flooring him. The last thing you saw before fleeing to go find Mr. Helmsley was Dean straddling Brock, the slim Alpha ranting swears while the two of them swung wildly at each other.

…

What was left of Brock Lesnar was blackballed from King's Game and all its subsidiaries. Which may have stretched further than you had anticipated. Dean was released into the care of Rollins and Reigns. According to Mr. Helmsley he was a little too far gone to be trusted with driving himself home. “He’ll be fine in a few days.” The older Alpha assured you, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He bounces back pretty quick. Tough kid, Ambrose.”

You spent the weekend quietly. You were shaken by the fact that while Ambrose clearly displayed  dominant tendencies, he hadn’t ever tried to assert that dominance over you. He also hadn’t thought for a second about taking a piece out of Brock, recklessly lunging at the larger man.

Was it because Brock had gone after you? Or was simply because he had hit Dean? Ambrose had seemed to be in his right mind until he had been punched, then he had obviously lost the battle with his surging hormones. Now that you thought on it, if what Dean had said was true, Brock was probably lucky to be alive.

Dean wasn’t at work on Monday or Tuesday. When Wednesday came, you marched straight to the Alpha Program office and banged on the door.

Seth opened the door, staring down at you momentarily. “Uh. Yes?” He asked after an awkward pause.

“I need Dean’s address.” You said firmly.

“Ha! Pay up, Rollins.” Reigns called from his desk across the room, chuckling while Seth swore under his breath and dug into his pocket for his wallet.

“Why do you want Ambrose’s info?” Rollins questioned you warily. “He’s not in the greatest shape right now, and I dunno’ if he’s fit comp-”

“He lit into Lesnar and I want to know why.”

“Brock put his hands on you. Dean takes his job very seriously.” Seth explained like you were a child, making you bristle.

“But why pummel the guy? Not that I’m ungrateful, mind you. It just seemed like overkill is all.” You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to talk to him. Make sure he’s alright. I haven’t felt okay since that day and I…” You trailed off, feeling that familiar blush creep up your neck.

“Ah. Talk.” Roman cleared his throat. “I don’t know if he’ll be in the proper headspace for speech. But hey, maybe having you there will help him come back around.”

“Is he really that far gone?”

“The spat with Lesnar pushed him further than it should have. He’s been mostly non-verbal whenever Rollins or I check on him.” Roman shrugged. “He’s not hurting himself. He’s all bundled up in a blanket den like usual, it’s just that he’s not talking. Dean gets into his own head sometimes and there’s not a whole lot we can do about it except let him know that we’re there for him if he needs us.”

“Will he hurt me if I show up?”

“Ambrose ain’t like that.” Seth answered sharply. “He’s a couple sandwiches short, yeah, but he’s never violent without a reason. He thinks the world of you.” He stopped, looking embarrassed. “Uh, not in like…a creepy way or anything. Just, y’know, you’re important to him, I guess.” He floundered.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. “So give me his address.”

…

Ambrose lived in a rougher neighborhood and you were immensely thankful that your heat had passed. You weren’t sure you would have been as confident if it still had your body in its grip. Even in your right mind, you spent a solid five minutes talking yourself up in the car. “C’mon, Rollins said he wouldn’t hurt you. You don’t even think he would hurt you, you big baby.” You shut the car door behind you firmly, straightened out your skirt and headed for the apartment complex stairwell.

Reigns had given you Dean’s door code, stating that he was unsure if Ambrose would be able to answer the door in his current state. The lock clicked open under your fingers and you let yourself into Dean’s apartment, knocking your knuckles against the wood of the door to announce your presence. “Ambrose?” The first thing that hit you was the smell, Alpha scent so strong it made your head spin and knees weak. You braced yourself on the chair beside the door, trying to clear your head.

The second thing you noticed was that the whole apartment was dark. Daylight filtered in weakly through the curtains, but other than that the place was in shadow.

You put the small bag of groceries that you had picked up before coming over onto the counter, noting with worry that there were no dirty dishes in the sink. “Dean?” You called a little louder, thoroughly concerned now. “Hey, where are you? Roman and Seth said that you’d be here.”

Behind you there was the sound of a door creaking open. You whirled just in time to see Dean unfolding his lanky form from a pantry that was definitely not meant to be a living space. He spilled out onto the floor and laid there for a minute, before he turned his head to the side and groaned pitifully.

“Dean!” You dropped to your knees, forgoing your usual Omega propriety in favor of touching his shoulder. “Dean, oh my God. Are you alright?” After another long minute he raised his head slightly, dazed blue eyes trying hard to focus on your face. “Dean, it’s me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You said quietly.

Dean’s reply was a hum that turned into a low moan, his forehead hitting the floor again with a dull thud. “Om’ga.” He slurred. “Thought y’ were th’ guys. Y’kay? Lesn’r come back? I’ll geddup, ‘ll kick his ass again…” Ambrose struggled to do just that, shoving himself into a sitting position. He then inhaled deeply and you watched his pupils dilate. “Y’ didn’t need to come over here. M’ fine. Just been in my den.”

“Is that what you call the pantry?”

“Small, dark. Quiet. I need that when I’m like this.” His voice sounded shot.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You offered. Dean flailed an arm out until he caught hold of a drawer pull, hauling himself partially upright. You grabbed his free hand and managed to help him the rest of the way.

“Fuck’s sake.” He rasped, holding tight to your arm. The knuckles on his hands were still cracked and yellow-green bruised, presumably from his fight with Lesnar. “Feel like hot garbage. Why y’ here?” He asked wearily, his head lolling back momentarily.

“I’ve been worried about you.” You said, a little plainer than you had intended.

Ambrose jerked his head up to look at you, obviously startled. “You…what?” You propped him up against the counter and filled him a glass of water from the sink, which he quickly drank. “Om’ga m’ serious, wh…what did y’ say?”

“I was worried about you.” You whispered, twiddling your fingers nervously.

“Why?” Ambrose asked bluntly.

“I don’t know, because you got into a fight with an Alpha who’s at least twice your size? If I had just-”

Ambrose placed a finger on your lips, stopping the flow of words. “Y’ not gettin’ raped while I’m on th’ fuckin’ clock, un’nerstan’? Don’t care how sick I am.”

“But if I had let him-” You tried to continue your previous train of thought.

“No. There’s no gray area here, Om’ga. Not allowed. No is no, always has been. Y’ did th’ right thing by fightin’ back.” Dean closed his eyes, tilting his head back to bump the cupboards. “I saw him fuckin’ pinnin’ you there an’…thought I was too late. Got so scared.” He confessed. “Needed you t’ leave. Wouldn’t hurt you, but…but I didn’t want y’ afraid of me if I fucked him up.”

“Is he at least fun to punch?” You asked dryly.

Dean’s drawn-out groan of a response sounded downright filthy. “So much fun.” He dragged a hand through his hair, finally seeming to notice the shopping bag you had brought in. “Whuss’at?”

“Dinner. I didn’t know how sick you were, so I um. I brought dinner.” You fought down the feelings of self-consciousness when Dean’s face became guarded. “It’s pretty basic stuff, but I know when I’m knee-deep in heat there’s nothing better than not having to make your own food.”

“Omega, m' okay. You don't need to--y'know.” Dean fell silent. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “I already tol' y' that I'm a big kid. Don't have to take care of me or say shit I wanna' hear. Which one of th' guys put y' up to this? Bet it was Rollins.”

“Nobody put me up to anything, why is that so hard to believe?” You asked, thoroughly irritated.

“It wouldn' be th' firs' time, is all. Don't mean t' be all weird abou'it.”

“I'm here because I was worried sick about you, and I wanted to know why you went after Lesnar so hard even after you got him to let me go.”

“Make sure he never did it again. He shouldn't have put his hands on you.” Ambrose snarled. “He talked so much shit when you weren't around, tryin'a rile me up n' get under m' skin. Fuckin' rattlin' on about how I mus' be fuckin' you, there's no other reason I'd take on the job 'cept to get first crack at an Omega, righ'?” He said bitterly. “It's Alphas like him that made me apply in the first place, an' look at me. Stooped to his fuckin' level th' firs' chance I could get away with it.”

“But you were on the opposite side of it!” You protested.

“It don't fuckin' matter. I went full rut-brain and hauled off on someone. Coulda' killed him.” Dean muttered grimly. “Been thinkin' about it this whole time. If Hunter hadn't gotten there when he did...Christ, was so fuckin' mad.” You wrapped your arms around him impulsively, hugging him tight. Dean actually moaned at the display of affection, his cheek dropping to rest on the top of your head. “Omega, y' can't...”

“I can.” You said softly.

“I won't prove him right, Omega.” Ambrose whispered, his hands trembling when he rested them on your hips. “I won't accept a reward for bein' someone like him, some domineerin' Alpha fuckstick.”

“I'm not a reward, I'm a human being. A lot of time and effort goes into me, Ambrose. I expect you to appreciate that.” You said huffily into his chest. “I'm hell on wheels during my heat if I'm not on suppressants and I don't fully understand how bad you get during your own spells, but I'm willing to try if you are.”

“Y' willin'?” Dean tipped your chin up, searching your eyes with his own. “Are y' serious?” You kissed him on the mouth instead of answering and he startled you with a gravelly whimper, his body going slack against yours while he cupped your face and kissed you back. “God, Omega, I've been goin' out of my mind, I wanted t' ask, wanted t' do it right.” He breathed. “I know I'm not much of an Alpha, m' skinny an' not nearly as dominant as I oughta' be, but...but God I want you. Wanted you t' want me, t’ take me as your mate.” He crooned helplessly in his throat. “Knew it from the first second I saw you, but you were so pretty. I don’t get pretty things.” He buried his face in your hair, rocking you back and forth. “I thought I fucked everythin' up when I went after Lesnar. Thought I scared you.”

“I was scared for you. I knew you weren't feeling well and I didn't want you to get hurt.” You assured him, boldly resting your hands on his hips.

Dean chuckled. “Ain't gotta' worry about me, Omega. Been in way worse shit than that.”

“Don't say that. I don't even want to think about you getting hurt.”

The Alpha groaned louder than you expected at your words. “I don't think anyone's ever not wanted me to get pummeled. You sure I ain't dreamin'?” You kissed him again, softer this time. “God, if I'm dreamin' don't wake me up.”

“Will you let me fix dinner?” You asked cautiously. “You can shower while I do that, might make you feel a little more human.”

Dean kissed your forehead, then teasingly rubbed his overgrown stubble across your cheek. “Not a fan of the mountain man look, Om’ga?”

“I didn’t say you had to shave!” You protested quickly, making him snort with laughter. “Just get washed up. Nothing better than a nice hot shower when you’re in heat, take my word for it. Yes, I know you’re not in heat, but I feel like a few of the rules are universal.” You ticked them off on your fingers as you spoke. “One, any food you don’t have to cook yourself is good food. Two, a hot bath is next to godliness. A hot shower will suffice, but it has to be hot. Three, if you need to cry because something hurts, that’s okay. And four, the most important one, be careful.”

“I ain’t gotten murdered in the shower yet, have I?” Dean looked troubled for a second. “Does…does it hurt when you have your heat? Where does it hurt? We learned that stomach soothe thing in our trainin’, but that can’t be all.”

“Ah, I personally get pains in the small of my back, my neck and shoulders. The stomach throbbing I think is universal, something to do with the reproductive areas going into overdrive with prep work.” You shrugged. “It’s so strange to me that there’s no concrete answer to essentially any Omega problem. It’s always a ‘possibility’ or some crap like that.”

“Tryin’ to keep you guys under everyone’s thumb.” Dean grunted, moving to scoop his blanket nest up out of the pantry. “More research means more informed folks like Doc Swagger, right? Can’t have that shit fixin’ their system.” He reasoned. His face reddened when he caught the incredulous look you were giving him. “My uh, my ma was an Omega.” He fumbled to explain, clinging tighter to the blankets as if they were a shield. “Never knew my dad.”

“Oh, so you’ve had a vested interest in that kind of thing.” You realized. Dean nodded wordlessly, ducking his face into the blankets. “Hey, don’t hide from me you goof, that’s a good thing.”

“Seth thinks it’s weird.” Dean muttered.

“Seth’s not an Omega, now is he? Of course he thinks it’s weird.” You chided. “I think it’s awesome that you pay attention to stuff like that.” You tugged the blankets down and kissed him again, smiling. “Now go get washed up.”

“God, just havin’ you around makes me feel more human.” He said dazedly. “Yeah, okay, shower. Goin’.”

You squealed quietly to yourself once you were sure he was in the shower, doing a giddy little shimmy before you started making dinner. He likes me! He’s liked me since the beginning! Your whole body still felt like it was buzzing happily from all the kisses and touches; you had never been touched tenderly by an Alpha before Dean. It had always been so clinical, as though being an Omega was contagious and no one else wanted to get infected.

Dean obviously didn’t give a damn, never shying away from the limited contact you had been bold enough to make. He seemed to welcome your hugs and kisses as well, so you made a mental note to do that as often as you thought you could get away with.

A still-stubbled chin rested on your shoulder and a set of strong arms wrapped around your midsection. “Miss me, Omega?” Dean asked, grunting when you wiggled back against him contentedly. “Think I’m about eighty-five percent human again. Makin’ mac n’ cheese?”

“Mm. Ultimate comfort food.” You nodded, continuing to stir the pasta. “Want to set your table, or should I?”

“I can manage it.” Dean pulled away, pecking the top of your head. “Thanks for takin’ care of me, Omega. Y’know you don’t have to, right?”

“I’m doing this because I want to, Alpha Ambrose.” You teased, making him rumble in his chest.

“Could get used to that.” He said finally, his tongue poking out from between his teeth when he smirked at you. The smirk vanished after you commented positively on his dimples, his face taking on a more bashful look while he set two bowls out on the counter. “Always thought they were out of place on the mug of a guy like me, y’know? Weird fuckin’ cherub smile.”

“You must have gotten away with so much when you were little.” You sighed. He grinned at you, silently indicating that he absolutely did. “Who am I kidding, you probably still raise hell.”

“Nah, Lesnar was my first fight in ages. There’s this thing called getting arrested, happened once or twice. Kinda’ not a fan of it so I’ve kept my nose clean.”

“Arrested? Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, it’s when ‘The Man’ decides he’s had enough of your semi-vigilante bullshit.”  Dean snuck a taste of mac n' cheese out of the pot as you reached over to turn off the heat and he laughed when you swatted him on the shoulder. “Alright, alright, I'll be good! You gotta' hurry up though, m' starvin'.”

Dean, it turned out, didn't exactly have a kitchen table. His living room sort of...flowed into the kitchen and he apparently ate on his couch most of the time. He ended up hauling the worn coffee table in close enough to bump his knees when he sat down, then patted the space on the couch beside him.

“C'mere, Omega.” He urged, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you obliged him. To your surprise, he scooped up a spoonful of cheesy pasta from his bowl and proceeded to feed it to you. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you chewed and swallowed, and Dean cocked his head to the side. “What is it?” He asked.

“You just said you were hungry.” You pointed out, tentatively accepting another mouthful of mac n' cheese.

“I am. But if you're my mate, if...if we're dating, you come first.” Dean said firmly. “So you eat, and then I'll eat.”

“How about we compromise?” You suggested, emptying your bowl out on top of his and then offering him a spoonful of your own pasta. “We'll eat from the same bowl. I'll feed you, and you can feed me.”

“Yeah?” Ambrose looked suspiciously misty-eyed for a second, before he cleared his throat and eagerly ate the comfort food. “M' old-fashioned, sorry.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “Never had anyone to share stuff with like this. I always thought I'd have t' bring a fresh-killed deer to someone's parents or somethin'. But I guess sittin' in my apartment eatin' cheesy mac ain't so bad.”

“Think you can live with the disappointment?” You grinned.

“Oh, I'll manage somehow.”

His quiet murmurs of contentment slowly turned into outright purring as the evening went on, and you found yourself petting his hair while the two of you watched television. “Hey, can you look at me for a second?” You requested softly, making Dean tilt his head up. “Hi.” You kissed him and he moaned into your mouth, seeming caught off-guard.

“Omega, fuck.” He breathed. “Hi. Huh.” He shuddered all over. “One more of those and I'll wreck my pants. Go easy on me.”

“Why? Do you get like it when I kiss you?” You asked, giggling when Dean nodded wildly. “What else could I possibly do to you, if that's all it takes?”

“Everything.” Dean growled, twining his fingers with your own. “Everything and anything is great. Kiss me, bite me.” He was all but begging, baring his neck and burying his face in your shoulder. “Bite me, bite me please.”

You blushed bright red, licking your lips at his invitation. “Are...Are you sure? What if I hurt you?”

“I dare you.” You mouthed over his neck and he sobbed out a breath against your shoulder, his body twitching. “God, please, please Omega, just-” Your teeth dug in, canines crushing down. Dean froze for a second, almost long enough for you to get worried. “Fuck.” He snarled, “Yeah, you're perfect.”

“More?” You asked, squeaking when he yanked his shirt off and pulled you into his lap. His eyes met your own and the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. “More.” You announced.

“You're my mate.” Dean replied, cradling the back of your neck when you nosed across his shoulder. “Whatever you want, just keep biting me.” You sank your teeth in harder this time, giving a growl of your own when Ambrose rolled his hips. Your skirt rode up on your thighs. “You want to go further, Omega? We can if you want to.”

“You say while I have a mouthful of your neck.”

“Hey, don't talk with your mouth full.” Dean scolded, carding his fingers through your hair. You giggled and he started laughing as well after a second, his smile warm when he looked down at you. “What do you want from me, Omega?”

“A lot of things.” You answered truthfully, pulling your skirt up out of the way. Dean's eyes widened gratifyingly when you ground yourself against the swell of his cock in his jeans. “A specific thing right now, if you're interested.”

“Jesus Christ, if.” Dean unbuttoned his jeans, biting his lip when you pushed his hand away and unzipped his zipper. “You're dangerous, know that?” He rasped. “Checkin' up on me, feedin' me.”

“I have to take care of my Alpha.” You said simply.

“Yours, Omega. All yours. As long as you'll have me.” Dean spoke just as plainly as you, cupping your cheek. “Until you leave.”

“I'm not going to.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” He watched hungrily while you shed your panties, rumbling when he saw the slick that shone in the dim light. “Fuck, you can't still be...”

“No, m' just wet.” You rose up onto your knees and Dean shivered in anticipation, his thighs tight beneath you. “It's much worse when I'm in heat, trust me. Half the time I don't even bother with underwear.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” He sighed, gripping the base of his cock and giving himself a lazy stroke. “If that ain't a turn-on, I dunno' what is.”

“Good to know.” Dean's knuckles brushed the soft skin on your thigh and then he pulled away, letting you slowly lower yourself onto his cock. You weren't able to hold back a moan and he echoed your noise, sounding desperate. His fingers dug into the couch on either side of his body when you were fully seated, and you panted out a few shallow breaths as you tried to get used to the size of him. “God, Dean.” You gasped.

“Oh Jesus, fuck.” Dean grunted, whimpering when you snapped your teeth back down into his neck. “Yes, good Omega, good Omega, bite me, mark me.” He urged, his eyes rolling back in his skull as you tugged at his hair and began riding him. “Best Omega, don't be shy little Omega, fuck me, fuck me-”

You leaned back, using your hold on his hair to make him watch his dick slide in and out of you. “You like it? You like the way I take your Alpha cock?” You crooned, his passive behavior driving you to quicken your pace. He still had his hands clenched into fists on the cushions, like he was afraid to touch you. “Fuck up into me like you mean it, Alpha. Claim me.” You demanded. His hips bucked once, shallowly, and you ground down onto him.

“Don't want to hurt you.” He groaned, his hands seeming to move of their own accord despite his words. Dean palmed your thighs, only tightening his grip after you nodded encouragingly. “Won't hurt you. Your Alpha's gonna' make you come.”

“Yes please!” You begged, leaning into his touch.

“Look at you, taking every inch of me. What a good Omega you are.” Dean praised, “You needed this, didn't you? Needed your Alpha inside you to fill you up. Alpha's here.” He thrust his cock up, snarling, “Alpha's right here to give you what you need, tell him what you need. You need it harder? You need it faster?” You could have cried with relief when he crushed you down to sit in his lap again, his dominant tendencies shining through. “Grind on your Alpha's cock.” He ordered and you obeyed, making him grit out a swear. “Hah, fuck, Omega, you're so tight around me, fuck--”

“I'm a good Omega, right?” You panted, and Dean pressed his forehead to yours. “M' a good Omega, make you feel good?”

“God fucking dammit Omega, this is the fucking best I've ever felt in my life.” He growled, “Come for me, c'mon, get my knot fuckin' slick for you, do it, do it-” The bulge at the base of his cock throbbed against you, prodding thickly at your pussy with delicious intent. Just the thought that something so big would be inside you in a matter of moments was enough to make you arch your back and grind down even faster, your pubic mound bucking against his stomach in a frantic bid for completion.

Your orgasm surged through you, sending jolts up and down your spine where Dean gripped you fiercely. In the midst of it all, his knot slipped into you and you buried your face in his shoulder, crying out loudly and circling your hips. “Oh sweetheart, oh God, God are you alright? Are you alright?” Dean gasped, trembling fingers combing through your hair soothingly. “Jesus, I'll stop if you're not alright Omega, need to tell me y' okay.”

You managed to give him a thumbs up, making him moan in what seemed to be relief. His knot throbbed inside of you and then he grunted, coming hard. You sucked in a breath at the sensation of being mated, claimed and proven worthy by your Alpha's knot like you were an Omega out of the history books.

“Fuck.” Dean breathed. “Fuck. I've never knotted anyone before.” He mumbled finally. “Never had it engage. Holy fuck, you're my mate.”

“I'm your mate?” You echoed, unable to hide your smile.

Dean appeared to be in the same boat, his eyes going wide with the realization. “I'm your mate.”

“You're my mate.” You kissed his forehead. “My Alpha.”

“My Omega. I...God, wow. That sounds...that sounds really great.” He smiled up at you, his curls a frazzled mess and blue eyes bright with affection. “My Omega-mate.” You relaxed into Dean's arms and he began humming softly, continuing to stroke your hair and plant the occasional kiss on the top of your head. “Take a breather, Omega. We've got time.” He murmured. “Sleep good.”

Sleep good.