#probably bad for the knee but it’ll be good for the mental health

[raeathnos]

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[kevindayisafrog]

One shot of Kevin with a therapy dog 💅

TW- small joke of suicide, anxiety, brief take of mental health

“What about a dog?” Kevin looked down at Andrew who was curled up on his lap. “What about a dog?”, Kevin reached down and raked his fingers gently through Andrew’s hair, causing the other boy’s eyes to slowly close. “A therapy dog”, Andrew whispered as he pushed his head harder against Kevin’s chest in a gesture for him to keep playing with his hair. Kevin hummed his answer knowing that the answer was a ‘no’. Andrew and Neil had been hounding him recently about going to see Bee, but the thought of having to relive his past scared him more than when he actually went through it. But if he was being honest with himself, his mental health had been declining a lot in these past few months, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to reach out for help. He just couldn’t do it. “I can come with you to pick one out, if you want”, Andrew opened his eyes and glared up at Kevin, his hard auburn eyes challenging Kevin’s self-destructive side. “I don’t know”, Kevin shrugged and watched the clouds outside the window absently, “I don’t really like dogs”. Which was a lie and he knew it. He always used to annoy his mom with asking for a dog and, before he knew what was good for him, annoyed Tetsuji with the question too. He never got a pet and now he didn’t really want one; he couldn’t really look after himself. “Stop lying”, Andrew muttered before getting up and walking to the dorm door, “you’re getting a dog”. He slammed the door behind him and left Kevin alone with his thoughts.

“Don’t tell the therapy dog your problems, Kevin, it’ll probably kill itself”, Neil smirked from the backseat as Kevin turned around to punch his knee lightly. Andrew, without taking his eyes off the road, leaned over and smacked Kevin back into his seat and lifted his middle finger up at Neil, “110%”. Kevin rolled his eyes and stared at the long strip of highway in front of them, his hands nervously picking at each other. “You look like an addict in withdrawal when you do that”, Andrew sent Kevin a sideways glare and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers against the gearshift. “You’d know all about that”, Kevin smiled sarcastically at Andrew and relaxed into his seat, silently apologizing to Andrew for having to hold his clammy hand.

It didn’t take long for them to get to the shelter, but it took ages for them to get Kevin through the front door. “You are literally a big baby, aren’t you?”, Neil laughed and pushed Kevin through the automatic doors. “What if none of the dogs like me?”, Kevin asked as he shook out his hands nervously, humming as he followed Andrew up to the main desk. “You should be used to it, people hate you too”, Andrew shot over his shoulder before talking to the receptionist. “Are you excited, sweetie?”, the receptionist came out from around the desk and placed a gentle hand against Kevin’s wrist. “Uh, yeah”, he answered, ignoring the death glare that Andrew was shooting at the woman. They followed her through a long white corridor, Kevin’s nerves making him crack his knuckles into dust. “Just through here, sugar”, the receptionist walked them through one last door and into a large room full of barking dogs in cages. Kevin froze at the sudden cacophony of noises and tried to resist the urge to cover his ears with his hands. “Sorry, I know it’s loud”, the woman smiled apologetically at him before walking to a cage housing the smallest chihuahua he’d ever seen. Andrew tugged the back of Kevin’s shirt and slowly walked him towards the cages. “Why do they have to bark?”, Kevin muttered, giving in to the urge and placing his hands over his ears. Neil placed a hand against his side and held up his ear defenders with a small smile, making Kevin’s chest flutter. “Thanks”, he muttered, trying not to blush in embarrassment as he placed the defenders on, slowly relaxing as the sound died out. Andrew dragged him to each cage, signing his words so that Kevin was still included in their conversation. They looked at each dog and Kevin felt bad for them, but he didn’t feel a connection to any of them. He scanned the room feeling bad for dragging Andrew and Neil here for no reason; and that’s when Kevin saw the one. He practically ran to the cage and clenched his hands in excitement as he looked down at the fattest black and white pitbull with the biggest head and the widest grin. Kevin turned to Andrew and signed ‘I want this one’ rapidly, knowing he had the stupidest grin on his face. He watched as the woman unlocked the cage and let the massive dog out. It sniffed hesitantly at Neil’s feet (who had the widest grin as he reached down to stroke its big head) and then walked over to Andrew who looked down at it in boredom. “Hi”, Kevin whispered as he crouched down, laughing as the dog lifted its front half onto his lap and licked his face. “Her name is Oreo”, Andrew signed after kicking Kevin’s thigh lightly. Kevin looked down at the massive dog and placed a hesitant kiss onto Oreo’s wrinkly forehead. “You’re coming home with me”, he whispered as Oreo shook her bum so much that she couldn’t keep her back legs still.

[forthehpfanboys]

Unexpected But Accepted

Pair: George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley: he/him.

Summary: Fred and George have been driving you bonkers. You try to get away for five minutes but find out they’re arguing over you. You snap when you see it happen right in front of you and punish Fred for sass. Basically, you fuck George, then suck off Fred.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), poly, dirty talk, bondage, probably took this too far, oops, swears, way too long and probably not good.

Notes: Requested! Hope you enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Your back pressed against the wall, your chest heaving with quick breaths leaving your lips. The small room was quiet and dark, allowing you to hear the pair of rushing footsteps that’d been chasing you for the past 10 minutes come down the hall. You covered your mouth, trying to hide your panting breaths into the skin as the steps came closer and closed your eyes in hopes of not being found in the small broom closet. Suddenly, one of your chasers spoke up, causing you to go rigid against the wall.

“Do you see him?” One spoke up while a sigh was released from the other.

“No. How did he disappear?”

You tried to sink deeper into the darkness without making a peep. Godric, if they found you, you’d never hear the end of it. You just wanted some peace and quiet.

“I don’t understand! Is there a hidden room we haven’t discovered?”

“I highly doubt it, Georgie. Let’s be real.”

“So should we split up?”

“Probably best if we just head to class.” Heavy footsteps trailed down the hallway, voices fading more with each step.

“Since when do you care about grades?”

“I don’t. Come on. We might bump into him on the way.”

You didn’t step out of the broom closet until you were 10,000 percent sure they’d left, allowing you to let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Shutting the door behind you, you leaned against it, wincing to yourself when your head smacked against the wood alittle harder than you intended. You didn’t like hiding from them, but you didn’t have much choice. 

The two redheads had been acting differently lately and it’s been taking a toll on your mental health lately. You couldn’t have five minutes alone without them almost tearing eachother apart for your attention and, honestly, you just needed a break. Or maybe food. You haven't been able to eat in peace because of the twins antics. Hermione and Harry would bring you food while Ron, the forever charming redhead, laughed at your demise.

You’ve tried talking to them about what’s going on, but they always brush you off and ask if you wanna go do something somewhere and drag you away anyway. It wasn’t that they were being creepy or anything, it was just overwhelming you and you needed some serious (Y/n) Time.

It almost felt like they knew something you didn’t and it was frustrating beyond comprehension. Sure, you and the twins were close but fuck, it was almost like they made a bet to torture or something along those lines. Maybe it was a prank?

What you didn’t know is that you were kinda right. A couple days before this specific one, the twins made a bet after learning two truths that changed a few things within their brotherly bond. Truth one was how George's feelings for you changed from friend to lover. The second truth was how Fred's feelings  for you changed in the exact same manner.  The bet resolved over you, of course, and how they’d win you. More specifically, whichever twin managed to win your feelings, won the bet and you were the prize.

You looked both ways, checking the hallway to make sure it was empty before abandoning the hiding spot with a feverous sprint. Your footsteps echoed down the empty halls, your robes flapping behind you. You proceeded to multitask. You ran down the intertwining halls while debating on going to class or hiding away in your dorm. In the end, your feet decided for you. Before you knew it, you were sprinting up the moving staircase up to the Fat Lady.

“Cherry top.” You spoke quickly before she even had the chance to open her mouth. You ignored her grumble on how kids used to care about her singing and focused on walking through the empty room. You plopped yourself down on the couch facing gently crackling fire. A quiet sigh left your lips, hands going through your hair. “What changed?” you whispered to yourself.

“You really have no clue?”

The voice made you jump and turn around seeing.. No one? You felt the couch sink further closer to the ground and you were met with another redhead, allowing you to relax back against the plush cushions.

“Godric, Gin, you scared me.” You let out a meek chuckle and ran a hand over your eyes. “What’re you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be with The Golden Trio or something?” 

“Or something.” She cast a smile in your direction. “I heard what’s going on between you and the two idiots. Figured you could use some help sorting them out.” The youngest Weasley tucked her feet in and turned toward you fully, the smile turned into a grin.

“I’d adore help.”

“I thought so.” She let out a chuckle. “Rumor has it they have a bet going. Lee overheard them arguing over it and who was winning.” Ginny’s grin turned into the classic Weasley Side Smirk. The words rolled around in your head, your nose scrunching in confusion. Arguing? They never argue. You tried to come up with a time where they actually fought and only mock up arguments made themselves clear. “People are saying it’s over a specific absolutely oblivious Gryffindor Quidditch player, others say it’s over who can burn the school down first-” Ginny laughed, shaking her head a little as she spoke.

“Quidditch player? Oh- Angelina, right? Yea, it’s pretty obvious they’ve been pining after her for a while. “ You forced out with a very small and very fake smile across your lips. You knew how the two pranksters looked at her. It only made sense they’d be after her, she was smart, great at the game and a looker. You swallowed hard. You were just the Keeper for Gryffindor, not a chaser or a seeker, just kept to the goals. It didn’t feel as special as the others. “But I don’t see how this involves me.” You could’ve sworn you heard her mumble ‘oblivious’ again, but she spoke up before you could even question it.

“So, you really don’t know?” 

“Don’t know what?”

“Oh my Godric, you really don’t know?” 

“Know what, Gin?”

“I thought they would’ve told you!” She looked down at her fingers, playing with her nail. Her long hair fell around her face like a curtain, no doubt hiding the grin. She was ignoring you on purpose.

“Gin, so help me, I will shatter your knee caps. Tell. Me.” You threatened, giving her a strong glare. Your glares could kill. Students and teachers alike knew your temper was not something to trifle with and made up for 99 percent of your detentions. You’re not one to throw fists first, but you definitely don’t hold your tongue. While the castle got nervous around you and you ralmost famous temper, the Weasleys did not give one flying fuck. They’d tease you until you die because they all knew you had a sweet spot for them.

“I mean, you're their best friend and you don’t know. Damn, that’s so.. Bad, yet just like them, wow.” She moved the hair away from her eyes. “Ok. Listen, the twins don’t fancy Angie, (Y/n). I think you need to consider both sides of the spectrum.” She paused, giving you an expecting look before sighing and going on. “They’re bisexual. Came out last year.” 

“Oh, haha. Really funny.” You stood up, moving away from the couch to one of the towering glass windows. Pressing your weight against the brick wall, you gazed out, watching students rush to classes and others just goofing off. Ginny knew of your crush on the two red-heads, but she didn’t have to joke about it like this. “Now isn’t the time for jokes, Gin. “

“I’m serious, (Y/n). Think about it. They’ve been all over you, everyone has noticed.” Ginny walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. She could tell you were gonna be on the fence no matter what the words, so she just sighed and retracted her hand. “I’d never joke about this. It could very well be you the identical idiots are drooling over.”

“They're really bi?” You turned to her, your eyes sparkling with hope.

“Honestly, (Y/n). Would I lie to you?” She snickered patting your back before heading over to the portrait hole. “Really, think about it. It'll make sense with time, i'm sure.” With that, she popped through the hole in the wall. With a final creak of the portrait shutting, you were left alone in silence, rolling her words in your head. 

Ok, maybe it did make a small, tiny, miniscule bit of sense, but why didn’t Fred and George tell you? You sighed, your hot breath fogging up the glass. Maybe they didn’t want you to know. Maybe they thought you’d call them freaks or weirdos, but you’d never. You remember when you came out to them as (s/p) and they didn’t judge you at all.

You wanted to scream when you heard the creak of the entrance opening again. For fucks fucking fuck, even without the twins there you couldn’t get alone time. You needed to think, especially with the new info Ginny told you.

“There ya are, (Y/n)! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Your eyes focused on the reflection in the glass pain, a groan leaving your lips at the sight. Of course. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“Hey.” Your voice was stiff, revealing how you felt deep down. Frustration and irritation. You noted how the redheads both stepped closer to you. One gently pulling you by the hand to sit down in a chair not too far from the window while the other taking the seat across you, shooting you a soft smile.

“Ok. What’s wrong?” Fred spoke, his back slouching in the chair, his arms crossing over his chest. George was standing next to you with a cocked eyebrow, a soft smile on his face. 

“Yeah, we know you (N/n). What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” George ran his hand through your hair before squatting next to your seated form. You could vaguely smell his cologne. You turned to George, missing the glare from Fred. 

“I.. Just stressed, is all. Exams coming and not getting enough sleep.” It wasn’t fully a lie, so.

“Are you sure you’re not sick or something?” Fred stood up and walked over, the back of his hand reaching out to press against your forehead. It was halted when a matching pale hand grabbed his wrist. 

“Fred, I think if he was sick, he would’ve said something along those lines. It’s just stress.” George’s voice held a barely noticeable amount of venom as his grip tightened ever so slightly on his older brothers wrist. The death glares they exchanged as Fred whipped his hand away from his younger twins grip had you raising an eyebrow in question.

“So you're a doctor now?”

“Can you stop with the attitude? I’m so sick of it!”

“You’re sick of it? I’m sick of you! I was just gonna check if he had a fever.” 

“Don’t touch him, Fred.”

“I was just checking if he was ok!”

“Well, you don-!”

“Ok and I’m putting an end to this.” You stood up and shoved your way between them, pushing them away as you stepped forward. “What the hell has been going on with you two? This is- Godric- you guys are driving me nuts.” Before they knew what was happening you were ranting. “Seriously! I can’t even shower without you guys trying to be there! Like just- What is going on? This week feels like a year and I’m drowning in Wealsey cologne and fancy candy from Honeydukes-” Your hands were running through your hair sporadically, which the twins both thought was adorable, but knew now wasn’t the time.

Fred and George looked at each other as you went on.

“Please. Just- It hurts so much to see you too fight and it makes me want to punch something- literally anything- because you guys are my everything! Just fucking talk to me! Please.” Your chest was heaving when you finally finished, your entire body getting warm.

“Everything?” They turned to you, everything matching up insync.

“..What?” You felt even hotter than before. Wait, did you actually call them your everything?

“Aw, don’t playdumb now, (N/n)! You said we’re your everything.”

“You’re hearing things, Fred.”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think we are.” They stepped closer.

“Ah, well, I.. never said that, Georgie. Very simple.”

“Do we have to go back to fighting over you?” Fred joked as they separated and began to advance toward you. The twins trapped you between them, one on both sides. George rested his arm on your shoulder while Fred shot him a teasing smirk, his nose scrunching up. “Cause we’ll do it, princey, don’t tempt us.”

You don’t know what came over you, maybe it was your built up tension or your anger issues, but you grabbed them by the ties of their uniform and yanked them over to the staircase leading up to the dorms. You pressed them against the wall just before the stair cases and trapped them there with your body. 

“Do it and fucking see what happens, Weasley.” One hand tangled their ties together, your other hand coming to press against the wall by George’s head. The boys’ faces erupted into a blush, causing you to smirk. “You two have been driving me absolutely nuts these past few days. I dare you to push one more button.” You tried not to act surprised by how your voice dropped. Fred’s tongue swiped across his suddenly dry lips and George turned even redder.

“Oh yea, (L/n)? What are you gonna do? Give us a stern talking too?” Fred smirked, his eyes trailing down your figure, then back up to your eyes. He was challenging you. You got closer to his face, your voice dripping even lower.

“I could tie you to the bed and fuck your brother right infront of you, make you watch him get what you oh so desperately crave.” Your head was cocked to the side, your eyes dark with something Fred had never seen before.

“Well, that was unexpected-” George all but whispered before he swallowed thickly, his hand coming up to cover his face. 

“But damn, so accepted. Who knew he was so dirty?” Fred groaned out. His hand wrapped around the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss. You released the ties and favored running your fingers through his hair, grabbing onto a few locks and giving it a tug.

“Should we confess or should you guys just keep kissing?” George spoke up from the sidelines, fidgeting with his hands. Fred separated from you and got him the classic Weasley Side Smirk. 

“I think he knows now, Georgie, come on!” Fred yanked his tie free and slipped free from you and proceeded to run up the steps, skipping 2 at a time. You took this time to appreciate his mile long legs. “Hope your good at keepin’ your promises, (L/n)!” He called from the top of the steps. With a laugh, you gave George a short kiss, grabbed his wrist and led the blushing redhead up the stairs. 

By the time you and George came up the stairs, Fred was already trying to disrobe. I say trying because he’d given up on unbuttoning his white polo and is trying to pull the still buttoned collar over his head. Watching the older twin thrash around in the stuck shirt made George and you erupt in giggles.

“Should we help him?” George asked his laughs.

“Nah, he can figure it out himself. Besides, I wanna kiss you.” You cornered George against one of the bedposts, not caring whose bed was whose and immediately pressed your lips against his. He let out a needy moan and pulled you closer, his arms around your neck. Your hands landed on his waist as your teeth nibbled on his bottom lip. You pulled from the kiss when a second pair of arms wrapped around your waist, which you prompt slapped away. “What did I say? Get on the bed, Freddie.” 

The groan that left the older twins lips was lewd, causing you to chuckle and shove him away from your back. He reluctantly laid on the bed, sprawled out like a starfish, his bulge prominent against his dark uniform. Damn, he must really want you. The idea of one of the twins drooling over you had you hardening in your pants.

“Not like that, Fred. Back against the headboard.” You spoke, gently leading George to the bed and pushing him to side down on the edge. You untied the younger twins tie and with a kiss to his nose moved to his counterpart, climbing onto the plush mattress one he obeyed. You smirked down at the redhead as you plopped yourself on his lap, causing him to groan. 

“Having fun, doll?” Fred spoke as his hands instinctively moved to your hips, pulling you closer. You pulled his hands away from your waist, kissed each wrist before tying them to the headboard with his brother's tie. 

“You know it, babe.” You casted him a wink. Climbing off his lap and prompt ignoring his whine, you brought your attention back to the younger twin and dragged him into a kiss.  “And how are you feeling, Georgie?” 

“Perfect.” His voice was soft and airy, causing you to giggle.

“Oi. Stop being cute without me.” Fred spoke up, nudging you in the side with his foot.

“Shut it. This is why you're tied up.” You smacked his foot away and pulled George onto your lap. You kissed along his neck, your fingers trailing through his hair. His hands slid from your shoulders, down your flat chest to your belt, promptly undoing it and pulling it free from the loopholes.

“Oh, please. You love my teasing.”

“I wish you gagged him with his tie.” George snickered out. He'd thrown the belt to the side and was now unbuttoning your white button up shirt.

“I’m debating on it, actually.” You laughed out. You sucked a mark on the side of George’s neck and shrugged off your shirt once it was fully undone and threw it to the side. Your hands came up to undo George's shirt, but ended up just ripping a few of the buttons free. “Fuck it, I’ll buy you new ones.” You pressed your lips to his again, your hands sliding across the bare skin. Fuck. His skin was so soft, but you could feel the muscles under it rippling with a soft moan.

“You know we have magic, right? You could’ve just spelled his clothes away.” 

You let out a groan and pulled away from George's lips and glared at the older redhead. You shook your head in disapproval and tsked at him.

“You gag him, Georgie. I’m gonna finish stripping.” You stated, giving the tall redhead a slap on the bum before standing up. You watched Georgie snicker and slide Fred’s tie free.

“Wait, no. We can talk this through-” Fred was interrupted by the tie being shoved into his mouth. “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry, Freddie. Should’ve shut your mouth. Had the chance.” Geogie patted his shoulder and scooted back. When he turned to you, he blushed a brighter red than his hair. You were lazily stroking yourself, your boxers hanging around your thighs. “Blimey-” George choked out, licking his lips.

“Like what you see?” You chuckled, stepping closer to him. He eagerly nodded his head. The boy was holding back the biggest urge to drop to his knees and suck the soul out of you. You flashed him a smirk. “Come on, then. Strip, baby,” 

He rolled onto his back, lifted his legs and all but ripped himself free from his constricting jeans. The enthusiasm made you giggle. Your eyes followed along the pale skin and you wanted, oh so desperately to count the freckles sprinkled across his skin. God, he was so absolutely beautiful and it was safe to say Fred was just as beautiful.

“Merlin’s fucking beard. You’re so beautiful.” You stepped over, running your hands along his toned legs. “Godric, I should use your legs as earmuffs some time.” Your confidence grew when Fred and George both let out a whine. “Ok. Here’s what I want.” You sat him back up and leaned into his ear, your hands slowly sliding up his thighs. You licked your lips when you heard the younger redheads breath hitch. “I want Freddie to have a nice view, ok?” You whispered, your hands hiking higher up his thighs before you dragged your nails down the skin gently. “Go to the foot of the bed, spread your legs and lean over to put your hands on the mattress.” 

George slipped out from beneath you and went to the foot of the bed. He was half bent over, legs spread and staring down at his hands on the mattress. Following him around the posts, you stood behind him and ran your hands down his toned back. 

“Oh, fuck, you’re freckles go down your back-” Your voice came out breathy and light. Your eyes looked between Fred, who was whining against the tie and the twin slowly turning red.

“Is that good?” George asked, his ears tinting a bright red. 

“Of course. You’re so beautiful. Does Freddie have the same patterns?” Your thumb ran over a patch of freckles.

“Yeah. He’s got these little patches of freckles everywhere.” George turned his head to look at you, a smile on his face. You couldn’t help but giggle, your hands rubbing over his globes.

“Godric, I can’t wait to see.” Your dark eyes turned to lock with Fred’s, as a dirty smirk came across your mouth. He let out a little whine, his legs shifting on the bed, trying to get some form of simulation.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” George laughed, pressing his forehead to the bed. You gave his asss a slap, causing him to whine.

“Be nice to him.” You snickered, leaning over to kiss the back of his neck whine your hand trailed down his abdomen. Your hand wrapped around his wood, his hips bucked in response. “You’re so hard.” 

“Obviously.” 

“Do I need to tie you up, too?”

“Oh, no sir.” His voice dripped sarcasm. 

“Georgie.” You warned while pulling your hand away. You sucked on your pointer finger and brought it to his entrance, gently pushing it in. He was chewing on his bottom lip, trying to stay loose and relaxed. “Be nice.” You leaned off his back, standing up fully. Your other hand grabbed his cheek and spread it while your finger pulled back some. After spitting on your fingers,you gently slipped in a second finger. Godric, his moans were so perfect. 

George was shivering. Sure, he’d played around in the shower, but damn was it better with a person, especially when that person was your crush. You prepped the bottom for what felt like hours and he was just about drooling into the sheets. 

“Merlin, you really wanna be safe, don’t you.” George moaned out when you pressed your fingers against his prostate. 

“Well, yeah. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“My god, you two are so gooey it hurts.” You both turned to Fred. He had a smirk on his face. Fucker had literally pushed the tie out of his mouth. “Get to it, (L/n).”

“For fucks sake, Fred.” You chuckled out, pulling your fingers away from his entrance. You held your own dick by the base before pushing the head in gently. George pressed his cheek against the bed, a whine leaving his lips. His freckle covered hands grabbed the sheets. His knees pressed together once you pushed all the way in him. “You ok?” 

Your hands hopped from his hips to wrap around his midsection once he nodded. You let out a sigh of relief and placed a few kisses on the freckles scattered across his broad shoulders. 

“I wish I was getting some of that action.” Fred’s head hit the headboard. This felt like he was having a wet dream and seeing it from 3rd person. 

“If you kept your mouth shut, you could’ve joined us.”

Your hips pulled back slowly, your chin resting on George’s shoulder. The gasp that left his lips when you pushed back in had you shivering. You kept up a steady pace, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Groans, whimpers, moans, gasps- every noise echoed in the nearly empty room. George’s hand had found his dick between his legs and was shamelessly jerking it to match your hips.

“Godric, Georgie,” your voice so close to his ear had him moaning your name, “you're so tight, baby.” 

Watching you fuck into his brother had Fred licking his lips. The older redhead desperately wanted to be in George's position and he was gonna throw something if he didn’t get some attention soon. He bounced his legs in dismay. His dick was painfully hard and throbbing in his boxers. 

“I’m still here-” Fred did jazz hands against the headboard.

“And I'm busy, shut it.” You spat out as you rocked into George faster, who only grew louder beneath you. Your hands gripped his hips, your nails digging into his skin as you moved. George’s hand moved faster between his legs, which were shaking harder than an earthquake.

With a gasp, George came into his fist without a warning. A cry left lips, his hips bucking between your actions and his fist as he pressed his forehead into the bed. You kept the pace up, your own orgasm just around the corner.

“Almost there, Georgie. You’re so perfect.” You cooed in his ear, your teeth gently biting the tip of the cartilage. You moaned against his neck when you finally reached your own orgasm inside him. You stayed against him for a good while, just holding his sweaty form against his body.

You slowly pulled out and chuckled as George just kinda plopped onto the bed and climbed on the plush mattress with him. You ran your fingers through his sweaty hair and kissed his head. 

“You did good. Are.. Are you falling asleep?” You laughed gently, watching the man's eyelids flutter. “Adorable. Love you, Georgie.” You shook your head when he mumbled out a quick ‘love you yoo’ and almost immediately began snoring. Fred cleared his throat, getting your attention. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” You crawled over to him, undoing his tie. “Did you learn your lesson?” Your hand grazed over his bulge, your noses practically touching.

“You know I didn’t, baby boy.” Fred cupped your face, his calloused thumbs ran over your cheeks. 

You let out a mock sigh of frustration before shaking your head back and forth. You watched his pale hands go to his belt and rip it off. He threw it off to the side before undoing his pants and simply pulling his dick out over the boxers.

“Wanna take care of this for me? I did sit and wait patiently.” 

“You didn’t have much of a choice.” 

“Just suck my dick, won’t you?” 

The bluntness made you snort but you dropped your head down anyway.

“I guess you deserve it.” You held the base of his dick and licked across the head, looking up at him with false innocent eyes. Fred ran his hands through your hair.

“Oh, yeah. You’re amazing.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.” You said between laughs.

“So get to it, dove!” 

You rolled your eyes and took the tip into your mouth, your hand moving up and down on the base. The fingers in your hair slowly tightened, grabbing as much as he could. A moan fell from his lips as his head fell back against the wooden headboard with a thud. You licked along the underside of the head. It was clear he wasn’t going to last long. 

You took him down to the base, gagging on the head hitting the back of your throat and began to pull back. About half way up, Fred pushed you back down, a needy whine leaving his lips. He used the hand in your hair to control your head going up and down.

“Amazing, dolly. Absolutely perfect.” He was just mumbling under his breath while he listened to you gag and whine around his length. He licked his lips as his hand somehow tightened on your locks. “Gonna cum. Swallow it, oh please swallow it.” 

Your eyes were watering by the time he came down your throat, leaving you sputtering and choking. He gently pulled you off. He reached for the closest piece of fabric, which ended up being George’s shirt, and gently wiped himself down.

“I knew there was a reason I loved you.” Fred teased as he threw the cloth and pecked your swollen lips.

“Wow. Only here for my bj skills?” You raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought we had something.” You planted a soft kiss on his lips. He suddenly reached up, holding your face as he stared into your eyes. His entire demeanor shifted to serious as he spoke. “(Y/n). I can tell you right now, me and my brother-”

“My brother and I-”

“Shut it. My brother and I,” his voice was filled with sass again, “have never, ever, ever, eevveerr felt this way about another person. We both love you, we have for a while. Granted this whole thing is super unorthodox, but we care about you.”

“It’s true.” mumbled a half asleep George as his arms snaked around your waist. You couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your lips. “I know, Ginny was right.”

“She’s always right.” They said in unison. 

“Now come on, let’s snuggle.” With that, George tugged you down next to him and Fred joined you. The three of you got cozy under a blanket and slowly drifted off, enjoying the body heat of each other.

The next morning, Ginny said ‘I told you so’ more times than you could count, but that was expected, even if you didn’t want to accept it.

[tempestsreach-blog]

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long.  It’s going to be rambly.  It’s going to be sad.  It’s going to be angry.  There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though. 

Fuck diet culture.  Let me say that again.  Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life.  I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.  The only way to heal is to go through.  I can’t go back.  I have to move forward.  But I can’t do it quietly.  I can’t hide.  I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in.  Literally.  40 years of my life wasted to this.  I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way.  What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me.  That’s okay.  Truly.  This is about ME.  This is to help ME heal.  You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot.  I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore.  Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain.  One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad.  I should go to the doctor.  I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it.  Want to know why I didn’t?  My weight.  I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me.  I don’t feel this way irrationally.  This shit happens.  I am in pain.  I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work.  Not long term.  I am excellent at losing weight!  I’ve done it over and over and over.  Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself.  Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not.  I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much.  Did you count those calories?  How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that?  Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time.  Every meal.  Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder.  Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun.  Cabbage soup.  Phen Fen.  Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting,  and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results.  I’ve purchased fancy scales.  I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app.  Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death.  I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself.  I am the failure.  So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids.  My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard.  Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings.  It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable?  We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat.  Or skinny if we’re really being honest.  How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny.  Feed her a damn cheeseburger!  She looks anorexic.”  I know I have.  I know I’ve said those words.  I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.  

Every body is different.  We are supposed to be.  Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing.  Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended.  My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man.  He’s just a big man.  He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man.  My mother was not tall, but was always large.  I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way.  Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large.  That was the way her body was.  I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated.  How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work”  I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.”  NO.  

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing.  Suffering in silence.  Hiding food. Restricting.  Binging.  Over exercising to compensate.  Spending money on one last diet.  Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly.  I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time.  One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty.  My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me.  It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin”  Pretty on other people.  Other people are pretty.  Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming.  In big ways and little ways.  I’m 5 ft 9.  I’m not a tiny person at any weight.  I’ve always been told I’m too big.  Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive.  This is subconscious.  I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets.  “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.”  or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then.  Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure.  Why bother?  Fuck it.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”  That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality.  If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life.  The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet.  So much life wasted.  The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies.  I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment.  I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been.  I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies.  The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures.  True story.  This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me.  IT’s what my brain said to me.  It’s how I de-valued myself.  There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food.  I daydream about food.  Food I “shouldn’t” eat.  Food I “should” eat.  When to eat.  When not to eat.  Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food.  I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food.  If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it.  This is going to take me a long time to break free from.  Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body.  Food is not good or bad.  Food is food.  I have to say these things.  I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again.  None of this is work anyone can do for me.  I have to live it.  I have to work through it.  I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands.  If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it.  This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind.  I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment.  I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them.  Airing this out is one of those things for me.  It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion.  I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this.  I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives.  Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are.  I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject.  They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

[meadowmines]

WIP: The Bit, chapter 3

[the morning after the end of chapter 2, in which we begin the tale of Goro Majima and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Mental Health Day with Nightmare Sagawa being awful (things do get better later but fuck this day in particular)]

It’s dark and there’s nothing to look at and Majima is staring out the car window anyway, because it’s that or look at the hand on his knee. 

They must be on the way to Kamurocho. That’s the only drive like this he can remember, with the same dark road and the same dark window and the same dark cloud of impending doom hanging over his head and the same hand on his knee. That’s all it is, when it’s just a hand and not a fist. That’s all it’s ever been. All it’ll ever be. Just one casual hand on his knee, or his shoulder, or his back. But the message is always clear. 

I could, it says. I could do anything I want to you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

The car hits a bump. Majima tries to use that to his advantage, to jerk his knee out from under that hand without looking like he’s doing it on purpose. It doesn’t work. It never does.

“Easy there, killer.” There’s a little chuckle, like he thinks this is funny. He probably does. “Got a long way to go. Might as well get comfy.”

“You want me to drive a while?” Majima asks.

“You think I was born yesterday?” Still no real heat in that, but that doesn’t mean shit. “You oughta be excited. I sure am. Can’t wait to meet your new boy toy.”

This isn’t how it happened. Majima knows this is wrong and this isn’t how it happened, but there’s nothing he can do about it. These things go on rails and all he can do is hope he wakes up before it gets ugly. “Whatever you’re gonna do to him--”

“Relax,” that chummy voice goes on. “I’m not gonna touch him. Even if I wasn’t hanging out at the bottom of the Sotenbori with a bullet in my head, I wouldn’t have to.”

Just for a second Majima thinks he smells something familiar, murky water and soggy garbage and dead fish. It’s gone almost before he notices it, but now he really doesn’t want to look.

“Ever notice how you only catch feelings for two kinds of people? Ones like Makoto--”

“You keep her name out of your goddamn mouth.”

Oh, that gets a good hearty laugh. “Fine. The kind you’re bad for, how ‘bout that. And the other...” That hand on his knee slides up and in, just a little, just an inch or so, but more than enough to get the point across and Majima shuts his eye tight and chokes back the urge to do all the things he knows are just going to make this worse, nightmare or no. “The kind that’s bad for you.” That hand slides back down to his knee proper and gives him a little pat. “That sweet little piece of Dojima ass would be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. You know what that leaves. And personally? I can't wait to see it--”

“Nii-san?” 

Majima snaps awake at the sound of Kiryu’s voice and thinks, for a moment, this is actually worse. 

There’s a whole crew of nasty little goblins banging away at the inside of his skull with crowbars and baseball bats and sledgehammers. There’s a dried-up sponge where his tongue used to be. Every joint in his body feels like it’s full of crushed glass. And just for a hot second, he can still feel that hand on his knee.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. 

“Bad dream?” 

“Uh huh.” Right. Shitty 1K. Early morning. A little humid from the shower. Smells like soap and drugstore aftershave. Majima catches his breath, or at least enough of it to handwave this off as no big deal. “Wha’ happen?”

"You came stumbling in about four in the morning,” Kiryu says. “Then you threw up in the sink and passed out on the table." 

Okay. It's coming back now. Some of it, at least. Mainly, the part where he stopped at the first bar he saw between the video club and the apartment. He doesn't remember why, exactly, this sounded like a good idea at the time. Something about making good and sure his dick stayed down for the rest of the night, he thinks. 

"Sounds about right," Majima groans. There's a soft little snort. He guesses he can't blame Kiryu for getting a sensible chuckle or two out of this. 

"I put some rice in the thing for you," Kiryu goes on. He doesn't sound mad or anything. Just mildly concerned and maybe a little amused and yeah, that's fair. “And... yeah. I read the instructions this time.”

"How'd I get..." He flaps a clumsy hand to indicate the futon he's sprawled on.

Kiryu just shrugs and mumbles something like don't stress about it as he goes out the door.

“Hey,” Majima calls after him. “You rinsed that shit, right?”

There’s no answer. The door shuts. It takes way too long for Majima to realize how he got into bed like a normal human person, and Kiryu is long gone by the time he does and all he can do about it is lie there and seethe about how goddamn stupid he is. 

It's enough to ruin a guy's whole day, you know?

[mediocre-writerr]

when you love someone [leah rilke]

leah rilke x fem reader

request #1: Ahhhhh I love your Leah x reader series!!! It’s so good :) I know you have a bunch of requests but would you consider doing a part four where Leah and her are sitting up one night and the reader confesses shares more about her past, maybe something darker (like knowing the reason that Becca died, but she doesn’t blame Shelby) and that she never wants to leave Leah once they get home and they fantasize their future together. The other girls overhear and also share what they want to do when they get home. Lots of fluff because the girls deserve it, lol

hi guys! i love this series so much, honestly it’s one of my favorite ones to write! so as long as you guys keep requesting for this series to keep going and ideas for it, it’ll keep going! so if you love this series as much as i do keep requesting for it! also i have a lot of imagines queued up so stay tune!

*not my gif*

You were sat in between Leah’s legs, her arms wrapped around you. Her front pressed against your back as her head hooked onto your shoulder. You relax into her touch, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“What was life like back home?” she asks you, breaking the comfortable silence.

You shrug, staring back out at the ocean, “Um not the greatest. It was really me and Shelby against the world.” 

“What about that Becca girl you and Shelby always mention? Weren’t you like the three musketeers?” Leah asks jokingly, but your whole mood seems to change, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

“No it’s okay, really. I trust you enough to tell you.” you say and she tightens her arms around you, giving you a soft squeeze.

Before you go on with your story, you kiss her softly. And a small smile appears on her face as the two of you pull away.

You let out a sigh, “You were right it was always me, Shelby, and Becca against the world. The three musketeers. But anyone with eyes can tell that me and Shelby were closer.”

“This is terrible!” you exclaim, your face contorting into disgust as you pushed the 7/11 hot dog away from you. 

“I can’t believe you ate that!” Shelby adds on, pretending to gag.

Becca picks up the hot dog from the hood of your car, casually taking a bite, “It’s not that bad!” she says with a mouthful of gas station hot dog.

“Eww Becs!” you and Shelby say in unison, before laughing at how the two of you were in sync. 

“Reputation was big at our school. If you didn’t have a good reputation, you might as well fall off the edge of the Earth. If you couldn’t tell, Shelby and I were the top of the social food chain. Popular, pretty, everything all the girls wanted to be.” you say.

“Ah, you had the classic typical movie high school.” Leah says, trying to get a better grasp on the story, “I’m assuming Becca didn’t have the best rep.” 

You nod, still staring out at the big blue, “You assume correctly. She had a few mental health problems. Her parents sent her away for a little bit and it was this big uproar at the school. When she came back me and Shelby never loved her less. At the time though, I didn’t quite know the extent of how much Shelby actually loved her.” 

“Wait so Shelby had feelings for Becca?” she asks.

“Mhm, that’s what caused the downfall.” 

“Hey Shelb? Are you okay?” you ask her softly, you were driving her home after bowling with your two best friends.

She just looks at you with a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah...I’m okay.” 

You give her a look and raise your eyebrows, “Why do I not believe you?” 

“Because you worry about me too much.” she says, mocking the look you were giving her.

“I only worry when I have a reason. You’ve been quiet since we trashed the car. You didn’t even sing ‘The Climb’ with me.” you shoot back, staring at her seriously.

“I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Shelby says, giving you a hug before heading inside.

“I didn’t find out about their kiss until later. When Shelby came to me crying, the last time the two ever spoke.” you continue onto through your sob story. 

There was a frantic knock on your front door. You were home alone watching Criminal Minds, so you were a little taken a back at the pounding at your door. You open the door just a tiny bit, peeking through the little hole you created.

Shelby was standing on your porch, pacing back and forth. Tears streaming down her face. You immediately open the door wider and she crashes into your arms. 

“I’m ruined, everything is ruined.” she whispers softly.

You run your fingers through her hair, “Shh...it’s gonna be okay. Whatever it is we’re gonna be okay. I promise.” 

“That night she told me everything. She didn’t want to admit to herself or anyone else, but with me it was like a truth serum. All of it just spilt out, her feelings for Becca. Her feelings for girls in general.” you let out another sigh.

“Why was it a big deal?” Leah asks, hesitantly, knowing it’s a bad topic. 

You let out an empty laugh, “If you met our parents you would know why.” 

“Y/N come down here!” your parents yell from downstairs.

You skip your way down the stairs and into the kitchen, “Yes?” 

“Mr. Goodkind told us about Shelby and Becca.” they begin and you swallow tightly, “We wanted to make sure Shelby didn’t do anything like that to you. Or make sure you didn’t do anything to her.” 

“No I haven’t and why would it matter if I did or if she did?” you retort and your parents look a little taken aback by that comment.

“You know why, the Bible says-” your parents say, giving you a look.

Internally you roll your eyes, “People deserve to love who they want without being judged. God loves everyone, no matter what they do. That’s what you always taught me right? Not to carry hate in your heart?” you say and your father opens his mouth, but you keep going, “But you're gonna stand her and carry hate in your heart for Shelby when you don’t even know what happened.” 

“Y/N...is there something you’d like to tell us?” your mother asks. 

You wanted to tell them. Just blurt it out. Maybe you and Shelby could be burnt at the stake together, but you just gave a tight-lipped smile.

“No.”

“So I’m not gonna win daughter in-law of the year.” Leah says jokingly and you laugh, thankful for the laugh in a serious conversation.

“Definitely not.” you respond, still chuckling to yourself.

“Damn...but proceed onto the story.” she says, gesturing for you to continue.

“That day, the day that Becca died I was at Shelby’s pageant. I sat with her awful parents. Who were finally okay with me being there, after a long conversation between them and my parents.” you say rolling your eyes.

Leah tightened her arms around you, probably sensing that this would take a turn. She hooked her head back on your shoulder, kissing your cheek softly. You smile softly at her sweet antics.  

“Mrs. Gilroy?” you ask, stepping out of the little theater.

You could hear little sniffles on the other end of line, “Oh Y/N. Becca...she’s dead. I found her in her car, she purposefully crashed it into a street light. We called 911 and rushed her to the hospital, but she uh she didn’t make it.”

And you just dropped your phone onto the floor. Before falling softly to your knees. Frantically, picking up the phone. Tears streaming down your face at the news.

“Do you need anything Mrs. Gilroy? I’m sorry-I’m sorry you have to go through this.” you ask, trying your best to stay strong.

“We’re okay for now honey, thank you. But she left you and Shelby notes. You can swing by and grab them.” she suggests and you knew she wanted you to have them. 

“Okay. I’ll be over later tonight.” 

You rushed your way into the contestant’s dressing room. Desperate to find Shelby to let her know the news. When you found her, she was staring blankly at herself at the mirror. Someone already told her.

“Shelby?” you say, you voice barely above a whisper. 

Her head immediately turns to you and she gets up from her seat, rushing towards you. Flinging herself into your arms, she buried her face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the tears fall upon your neck as your cheeks were stained with your own. 

“She can’t be gone.” Shelby sobbed out and you shut your eyes tight, shaking your head softly.

“But she is love...she’s gone.” 

“I got 31 calls from Becca that night. If I just-if I just answered one phone call. She could still be here right now. She’d be at home, practicing her bowling so she could kick me and Shelby’s ass when we got home.” you say, a small tear slipping down your cheeks.

“You can’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.” Leah reassures you and you nod, swallowing to choke back the tears.

You take your hand and wipe off the tears that were falling, “I know. But I don’t blame Shelby either. I couldn’t, maybe this new me would, but the old me couldn’t. Her parents would have done anything to stop her from feeling that way. Her reputation would be shot. And in a small town like ours, that’s a death sentence.” 

“Is that why you want to save everyone?” she asks, finally understanding everything, “Because you couldn’t save Becca?”

You nod, “I can’t lose anyone else. Especially Shelby and you.” 

“What’s gonna happen when we get back to the real world? With us?” she asks you.

“I’m not the girl I was before I came here. I’ve learned that reputation and what other people of you doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not gonna matter in the long run. So I don’t want to leave your side.” you tell her, turning around to be face to face with her.

She cups your cheeks softly, “Baby, we live miles and miles away from each other.” 

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be apart from you. We could have our own little apartment with Shelby and Toni and probably Martha.” you suggest to her and she smiles widely, “Breakfasts every morning, but don’t ask Shelby to cook she’s shit at it.”

Leah laughs softly, “It’s okay I can cook. Double dates all the time, playing UNO with Martha. Lazy mornings, twisted in bedsheets.”

“Reading together in bed quietly before bed.” you add on and she smiles and nods.

“Our perfect life.” 

“Fuck you Y/N, you suck at cooking more than I do.” Shelby’s voice cuts in from her spot next to me. 

You and Leah both jump at her voice. Thinking that you two were the only ones awake. 

“Would we really all live with each other?” Toni asks, “I don’t want to hear Y/N and Leah go at it.” 

“Us? You two literally did it under a lychee tree not too far from here.” you say firing back at Toni’s snarky remark.

“You told her about that?” Toni asks, looking at her girlfriend incredulously.

Shelby looks down at her hands, smiling coyly, “Maybe.” she says drawing out the ‘e’. 

“I guess if Leah’s cooking, I’ll be fine.” Toni replies with a shrug.

“I’d love to move in with you guys too!” Martha says, “But only if Marcus could come. And we play UNO at least twice a week.” 

“Is everyone awake?” Leah asks, staring at all the girl.

A murmur of yes’s fill the previous silence. 

“I want to get out of my house, you know? My parents aren’t the greatest either. Maybe we could be next door neighbors!” Fatin suggests, “If any of the couples need privacy, you ladies could hop over next door.”

“I don’t think it’ll be much better with all the guys you’ll bring home.” you joke and Faitn flips you off with a smile on her face.

Dot nods in agreement, “That would be so fun! Pizza nights and watching trashy reality TV every night.” 

“Roomates?” Fatin asks, extending her hand out to Dot.

“Roomates.” 

“Do you guys mind adding two more roommates?” Rachel asks and Nora nods smiling.

“Of course.” Dot says with a smile.

“Yay neighbors!!” Shelby yells and all of us laugh softly.

Toni playfully rolls her eyes, “I’m not escaping any of you ever, huh?” 

“Nope!” the rest of you girls say in somewhat unison, laughing together.

[builder051]

Hi, hope you’re doing well!! I’m sorry if it’s too late to send in prompts for today - I just saw you were posting and was wondering if you’d want to write something where Bucky has a high enough fever to start having hallucinations and Steve tries to help him. No worries if not, ik it’s late!! :)

Sure, I can try this one. It's going to be a combination of fever hallucination and flashback, because that's the only way I can get this to actually make sense...

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Powers/No Powers. Apologies for slight mental health --> weight loss talk.

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Bucky's been upstairs all day, and Steve's been at the kitchen table, pretending he hasn't been browsing travel blogs instead of sending an email to Bucky's psychiatrist. Steve can't come up with the right words to describe Bucky's ever-slipping condition, and he means to Google something about major depressive disorder. Even Wikipedia might help, probably more than the picture of the hammock and palms on the gulf of Mexico that he's currently ogling.

He could take Bucky on a trip, try to raise his ever-lowering spirits. But, honestly, Bucky would probably hate that. Feel uncomfortable, try to put on airs, and give Steve stiff sex as an unnecessary thank-you. That would make them unable to look at each other as they laid on the sand drinking something with a fruit kabob coming out the top.

Steve doesn't care for fruity drinks, though. And he hasn't seen Bucky eat food in... he doesn't know, full fat cream and sugar for his coffee notwithstanding.

Or Steve could go on a vacation by himself--

There's suddenly a bump from upstairs, and Steve starts. He closes the window on his browser, afraid he'll be caught doing something he isn't supposed to.

"Buck?" Steve calls, looking toward the bedroom at the top of the stairs. "You ok?"

There's no response. Steve's heart begins to pound, for the noise sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the floor.

"I'm gonna come up, ok?" He starts up the stairs, aware that he's shaking with anticipatory fear at what he'll find.

"Bucky?" Steve enters the bedroom. There's a pile of blankets on the floor, Bucky's legs and head visible through the layers.

Steve drops to his knees and pats the place where Bucky's shoulder should be. "Buck? What happened?"

Bucky groans and shakes his head. Strands of damp hair stick to his face, yet his teeth seem to be chattering.

"What the...?" Steve turns the back of his hand and tucks it beneath Bucky's chin. He's blazing hot and covered in clammy sweat. Steve wonders when Bucky developed such a fever, or how he could without Steve noticing.

But, then again... Steve slept on the couch last night, and he hasn't been upstairs yet today. He checks his watch, and he's dismayed to see that it's after four in the afternoon. His heart drops to his stomach. He feels neglectful, like he hasn't done his job.

Still, though. Bucky's a grown man. He should be capable of communicating his needs, at least. Even if he's heavily depressed, he can still come downstairs and ask Steve to unlock the ibuprofen if he feels like he's getting sick.

But getting sick doesn't even begin to describe Bucky's current state. He's bypassed the light fever and maybe upset stomach that denote the beginning of an illness. He has to be reading well into the hundreds temperature wise, and Steve smells vomit coming from the bedclothes.

"Ok," Steve sighs, looking for the edge of the topmost blanket and unwinding it from Bucky's cocoon. "I think you might be overheating."

"'M not..." Bucky licks his bottom lip, which is dry and cracked. "'S cold..."

"Yeah, because you're sick," Steve explains.

Bucky blinks. His eyes focus on Steve for a second, then drift blindly to the sides. "You gotta..." he starts. A retch wracks his shoulders, and a thin stream of bile comes up onto the floor.

"It's ok, Buck." Steve cups his hand beneath Bucky's mouth, even though the carpet is already saturated.

"You gotta stuck the poison out..."

"Huh?"

More vomit comes up. Steve brushes Bucky's hair out of his face. "Just breathe, ok?"

"But-- if you don't, it'll spread--"

"What'll spread?" Steve finds the edge of another quilt and uncovers Bucky's torso. Goosebumps bloom on his arm and stump shoulder. Bucky reaches to pull the blanket back on, but Steve grabs his hand and holds it tightly.

"The venom..."

"There's no snake," Steve says quickly, looking around the room just to make sure.

"S-scorpion--" Bucky heaves again, and this time, nothing comes up.

"You're all dried out," Steve says, concerned. "I think you're empty."

"But you have to-- The poison--"

"Buck, there's no scorpion, either." Steve uses a blanket to wipe Bucky's face.

"It hurts." Bucky flails, pulling his arm away from Steve and wrapping it around his body to the opposite shoulder.

"Ok, fine," Steve says. "It stung you? Where?"

"My arm. My hand!" Bucky grits his teeth, and Steve cringes at the sound. "Fuck, it's still on me."

Steve runs his hand up and down Bucky's right arm. "Ok, it's gone."

"My other arm--"

"Buck," Steve protests. "There's nothing there."

"It hurts."

"You're really sick, ok?" Steve massages Bucky's stump shoulder with gentle fingers, hoping he isn't aggravating the problem. "I think you're, like, feeling something that isn't there."

"It's-- I'm--" Bucky rolls back and forth on the floor, freeing himself from Steve's grip. "It's the venom. I don't feel good."

"No, it's the other way around," Steve murmurs softly. "You don't feel good, so you think you have venom..."

"It's--I'm gonna--" Bucky's eyelids flutter. "Don't let me die..."

"I won't." Steve's heart beats hard in his chest. He toys with the idea of calling a squad. The situation is starting to get beyond what he can control.

"I'm-- I wanna go home. I wanna see Steve..." Bucky's shoulders rise to his ears as he dry heaves again.

"You are home." Steve bends forward to lie on his elbows at Bucky's side, close enough to put his head between Bucky's shoulder and cheek. "I love you."

Bucky's eyes screw up and his chest rises in a quick, sighing sob, but no tears pour down his cheeks. He's dehydrated, Steve realizes. Further proof that even though Bucky's clearly lost in hallucinations, he might be right. He is in bad shape.

Unwilling to leave Bucky's side, even to go downstairs for an ice pack, Steve pulls his phone from his back pocket. IV fluids are probably needed at this point. Something to stronger than over-the-counter ibuprofen break the fever. He sighs and dials Sam's number, hoping to elicit some advice before bringing in the big guns.

"Tell Steve..." Bucky murmurs, his eyes rolling side to side. "I love him."

"Sure thing," Steve whispers back, finding Bucky's fingers and giving them a squeeze. "I will."

[soysaucevictim]

“aching, shaking, breaking (like humans do)”

Summary: Remus thinks Hypnos has abandoned him for good (metaphorically speaking), Patton is there to help. (Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic

Characters: Patton and Remus centric. Logan, Virgil, and Roman mentioned.

Relationships: Intruality (platonic), Logicality (platonic), Background Intrulogical (platonic/ambiguous), Background Dukexiety (romantic/QPP), Background Moxiety (paternal/platonic)

Warnings: Remus angst, extreme insomnia, (unintentional) self-injury, medications, mental health issues, grim imagery, Remus Has Intrusive Thoughts, Remus Is A Mess, Patton Is A Good Friend, Interfaith Friendships, Implied (Extended) Family Problems

-

Patton was pedaling on one of the exercise bikes, which was one of his favorite activities to do at the gym. Relatively low impact and he usually took a “something is better than nothing” approach to his routines nowadays. Just appreciating the people watching and socializing with his workout famILY.

That was odd.

Remus hadn’t been to the gym for the whole week. Even when the kiddo overdid it – usually he’s not out of commission this long for it. Unless-

Something hit him in the gut when he realized that. He stopped on his bike and immediately buzzed his number.

Ring.

Ring.

Nothing.

He could shoot him a text, but it was just not settling right with him. Logan had been doing one of his HIIT circuits on the bike next to him. He took a deep breath, gently tapping Logan’s shoulder. Despite Logan’s concentration, he desisted immediately, turning off his music to respond, “What is it?”

“Have you seen a certain Pottymouth at your work recently?”

Logan paused, with a look of concerned realization, “Come to think of it, no. No, I haven’t. Well, he was getting particularly erratic and called in sick… 3 days ago.”

“I think I should go check in on him. My Other Son’s been swamped with work lately, sooo…”

If Logan was perfectly honest, it was often confusing when Patton referred to half their crew as his son, “Other son? Did you mean Virgil?”

Patton nodded.

“Probably prudent. Unfortunately, no one can stand in for me at the firm tonight. And. You’re better at the… emotions stuff.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence! Hopefully I’m just worried for nothing.”

Patton rose up from his bike and was about to leave with his things. Logan smiled faintly, “Hey, if you would, could you tell me how he’s doing when you find out?”

Patton smiled back, a little forced if he was honest, “I’ll make sure to have him tell you that himself!”

-

It wasn’t a very far trip across the city to get to Remus’s apartment complex from the gym.

Once Patton parked his car and took another deep breath, he stepped out toward it.

After getting buzzed in and jogging up a couple flights of stairs, thanking his stars for basic training, he was at the door in a jiffy.

Patton wasn’t in the business, but he was reminded of the time Remus was raising heck to get Unit 404 from this building. He remembered seeing Logan trying desperately not to laugh when he heard about it.

He knew to knock to the phrase “Shave and a Haircut”, to alert Remus. He drummed out a few calls, waiting for Remus to make a sound on the other side, hoping he would.

It was a thing in their group, ever since they all watched “Roger Rabbit” together for a movie night, years ago.

Once. Twice. Thrice…

Patton heard the sound of chaotic crashing noises and an off-script, but still in the right cadence, “Fuck OFF!”

“Remus!? Kiddo, it’s me. I wanted to check on you!”

He heard some stumbling noises and a hoarse, “P-padre?”

“Can I come in?”

There was a dramatically loud sigh before the door was unlatched, unlocked, and open.

“Thanks- oh.”

Patton wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but Remus looked even more harried than he usually was. The darkness around his eyes even more pronounced, his face was so drained. His makeup smudged, tear-streaked, and hanging on for dear life. His gaze wild and jumpy. Remus didn’t do much more than stand in the living room, staring at Patton once he entered.

Patton saw that Remus had knocked over one of his glass cabinets. He noticed Remus looked pretty scratched up and was bleeding in places, mostly his hands and knuckles.

Patton furrowed his brow, asking mostly to avoid presumptions, “How are you feeling?”

Remus sounded breathless too, “What does it fucking… look like!?”

Patton paused and looked around some more, there was a lot of trash strewn about the floor. Granted there usually was, Remus would just call it “organized chaos”. But Patton did note that there was an alarming number of energy drink cans piled around a hopelessly full trash bin. Monsters, NOS, Red Bulls, 5 Hours, yerba mate, the works.

Patton slumped a little bit in worry, “Not exactly peachy keen, I take it?”

Patton had a hunch that Remus was screaming not that long ago, based on just how raw his voice sounded, “No SHIT!”

“Um, would you like to sit down for a bit? It might help to talk it out.”

“Can’t.”

“Too restless, huh?”

“Yeah.”

At that point Remus was mindlessly digging his fingernails into his arm. Patton winced a little and decided to ask, “Can I take care of those injuries, at least? I just want to make sure they don’t get-”

Remus glanced at but barely registered the wounds, “Infected?”

“Yeah.”

“F-first aid kit’s in the bathroom. Not like it matters. It would be just my luck to have a brown recluse bite or resistant staph or necrotizing fasciitis. You know where shit rots and liquefies and you get all septic?! Imagine the SMELL.”

Patton slowly worked his way to the bathroom to get the kit, not taking his eyes away from Remus, “Well, if it looks like it’ll be that way, I WILL be taking your butt to the ER.”

Remus didn’t seem to register that, droning on, “Oh. What if I lose a finger? Or several! Or my entire hands! Everybody says I might die of a heart attack before I hit 30? My ticker feels like it’s going to EXPLODE, Teddy Roosevelt. Imagine a live grenade strapped to it – BOOM. Sounds like fun.”

Patton flinched, thinking that was to get a rise out of him, “Kiddo, I think that’s the opposite of fun.”

Remus weakly laughed, pointing at his chest thoughtlessly, “Better than worrying about cancer or some shit!”

Eventually Patton had to break line of sight to grab the kit, but he kept talking, “When… when did you last get some sleep?”

There was a pause that made Patton’s own heart ache a little bit. Remus muttered after some hemming and hawing, “Uh… 3? 4?  4 days ago? I think. I don’t even fucking know.”

Patton took a moment to look over the medicine cabinet while he was there. Just to see if Remus had anything that could help him get much needed snooze time. There was a bottle of trazodone, mostly full, Benedryl, also mostly full… no suspiciously empty bottles of anything around. So that was a hopeful sign.

“Would you mind if I asked you to take something to help you sleep? After I patch you up?”

“You remember that story where a whole batch of Tylenol was tampered with and killed like seven whole people?”

“… I’ll ask again a little later, then.”

Patton returned to the living room, kit in hand, both relieved and disconcerted about Remus just standing in the same spot he was in. His hands were clenching and unclenching, like he was fighting to stay awake even longer. “Okay, it would be easier on both of us if you sat down while I dress those wounds.”

Remus didn’t move, so Patton tried to gently nudge this poor kid toward the sofa anyways. Thankfully, he didn’t resist at all. Patton noticed just how wobbly a gait he had in that short distance. Once seated, Patton also saw that both his knees were scuffed. Patton winced, imagining that he took at least a few falls very recently.

Without prompting, Remus whined, “Everything hurts, Padre.”

“Well, going without sleep as long as you have can give you a bad case of the body aches. Seen some of my old combat buddies deal with that on our worst deployments…”

Patton started to wipe down Remus’s knuckles first with some cotton balls and alcohol. He just wanted to get a better sense of how deep these cuts were. He was relieved that they were surprisingly shallow, “I think these will only need some simple bandages and antibiotic cream… but I’m definitely going to check on you later, to see how your hands are doing.”

Remus nodded, and started to blather a bit again, “I feel like Hypnos himself has forsaken me. A curse! A bane! Pat? Is his brother going to come for me? Am I going to ride down Styx and meet the big H himself?”

“… you’re not going to die, if I can help it. I swear to God Himself.”

“Gross.”

Patton sometimes forgot that their positions of faith were so far removed. But that didn’t dissuade him from caring a lot. He hated seeing his friend suffering so much. He took another breath, and addressed the gouges and cuts in Remus’s arms. They were rough, probably unintentionally from his own hands. He approached those similarly. “You feeling any sleepier, yet?”

“Mmm… no.”

Remus looked like he was about to pass out, Patton was reasonably sure just the fact he was seated and getting some TLC helped push him closer to shutting his eyes. “Well. I’m going to hang around for a few, just to make sure you’re alright, okay? Mind if I turn on the TV?”

Remus started to slur his speech considerably, “Knock yourself out, Holy Ghost.”

Patton thinly smiled about the blasphemous sentiment, but he shook that off, it didn’t matter really. He was just glad to see Remus doze off like he desperately needed it.

Patton decided to tune into Nickelodeon and watch some cartoon reruns, eventually hearing some loud snoring coming from Remus. Patton sighed and smiled at the sight.

-

“Oh GEEZ, Patton. Were you – were you here all night?”

Patton blinked awake from the shouting and looked outside to see it was bright out, “I-I guess I was?”

Virgil was there to see his boyfriend sleeping like the dead and Patton next to him.

“Logan told me to check on Remus and I just got back here. And-”

“Remus is going to be okay, I think. Do you have any idea what may’ve started this episode?”

Virgil sat down on the recliner nearby and looked tired but contemplative.

“His “family” tried contacting him. All I know was it devolving into a messy fight and it rattled him. He… stubbornly didn’t want to talk about it.”

Patton understood what he meant at this point.

The only blood relative Remus had anything nice to say about was Roman. Someone who should probably know what happened, if he wasn’t already aware.

All to address later, once Remus recovered a little more.

Patton ran his fingers through Remus’s greasy hair. Not the most pleasant, but he hoped it helped to soothe him as he continued to slumber.

Virgil smiled at both of them, his own concern never quite gone, “Thanks for this, Pop Star.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC  (A/n- Just gonna toss in some cheesy tropes to move things along)

Masterlist   Chapter 2

Warnings- Brief mentions of mental health

Chapter 3

John had made several mistakes in his life, though he couldn't determine if bringing Valerie back to his loft was one of them. She'd been eerily silent throughout the car ride, keeping closer to the door with her head cast towards the window as John drove in silence. And even when they'd reached his building, as led the way up to his apartment, she hadn't offered him the slightest pea. He needed her to talk though, so he could decipher what or who she was.

Valerie had to be special. Between his all too life like dreams and her being attacked by a demon trying to escape into their realm, she couldn't just be any regular human. Besides, she'd understood Latin as if it were English, and the only time he'd ever come across that was with angels. Nephilim, it was the only plausible answer. How could she not know though? 

Taking off the whistling kettle from the stove, John filled up two mismatched mugs, both with tea bags he'd been surprised he'd had, leaving room for milk and sugar in one. He had never been the most hospitable, and usually preferred to not entertain guests, but he also supposed that the least he could do after essentially dragging her to his car was try to make her stay comfortable. And of course, get her to trust him so she'd talk. 

After a while, he didn't really note how long it had been, Valerie emerged, wearing what he'd left out for her after offering to let her use his shower. Well, at least half of it, "I couldn't fit in your sweats," she blushed, certainly noting the way his dark eyes had landed on her exposed legs. Her very smooth, toned legs. 

Clearing his throat, John tried to shake off the perverse thoughts, "Its fine," he dismissed, "Tea?"

Nodding stiffly, Valerie relieved him of the cup, only stirring in a spoon of sugar before bringing it to her lips, "Thanks," she smiled, her face half hidden by the ceramic mug, "And um……thank you for everything else too."

"No problem," he obliged, gesturing for them to sit, "Just part of the job."

"The job?" Her brows knitted in question.

"I'm an occult detective," and when she still showed no sign of understanding, he carried on with explaining, "I do exorcisms, investigate the supernatural, that kind of stuff.”

“I….” Trailing off, she tried to make sense of it all, “Exorcisms? The supernatural? That’s,” exhaling softly, John could already see that the little bits he’d given were too much for her, “That stuff isn’t real,” Valerie shook her head dismissively, though, he could see that thing in her frightened eyes, that thing that told John she wanted to  believe him.

“You’ve got a better explanation for what happened back there?” Leaning back in his chair, John crossed his legs at the ankles, waiting for an answer.

Straightening her back, Valerie set the mug down, “Schizophrenia could easily explain that boy’s behavior, and it’s commonly associated with-”

Cutting her off, John interrupted her rambling, “And what about you understanding a language you’ve never learned?”

“Well there’s there’s not a lot of medical research on it, but I assume that a neurologist would suggest a brain tumor, or an-”

Chuckling dryly, John shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, “So you’d rather believe that you have a brain tumor than believe that demons and that stuff,” he quoted mockingly, “Is real?”

Clenching her jaw, Valerie stood abruptly, “That’s bullshit, that’s all nonsense and babble from the bible. Things meant to scare people into obedience,” emitting a dry, husky laugh, she rolled her eyes, “You expect me to believe that there are demons and one of them just knows me by name and decided to come after me. Cause that’s so believable!” 

John stood too, fuming at her stubbornness. To think he’d actually thought he could like her! “If it’ll save your ass then yeah!”

“Save my ass from what?” Her yell was louder than his, and for a hot minute, all sorts of tension building between them, they just stood there, both red in the face, fuming.

“You should be telling me!” Running fingers through his hair, John turned away, walking over to lean on the skin, “You’re the one they’re after!”

“They?” 

“Hell,” he clarified, “And maybe heaven too, I don’t know. Look,” his tone softened as John desperately tried to reason. Despite Valerie being extremely difficult, he still had the gnawing urge to help her. There was just something about her, he just couldn’t put his finger on it, “I know it’s a lot to hear in just one night, but believe it or not, they’re after you. And you’re the only person that knows why,” he sighed when she sat again, the gravity dawning on her just as she really started to let his words sink in, “Look, that couldn’t have been the first time-”

“It was,” she sniffled, swiping at her eyes, “I mean, it sort of was. I guess…..” Swallowing tightly, Valerie continued slowly and reluctantly, “I hear things sometimes…..they say they’re coming for me. Sometimes I see people that aren’t there, but the doctors-”

“Gave you a bunch of pills and told you it was all in your head?” John knew the story all too well, after all, it had been his story too. 

“Sort of,” she shook her head, voice teary and smaller than before, “They said that I was being paranoid at first, and then this doctor that I went to when I was in college, gave me antipsychotics. She said that was delusional and when i graduated, my grandparents had to pay for the records to be suppressed so I could even get this job; no one’s gonna hire a crazy nurse.”

Her story, as little of it as she’d told, tugged at John’s heart. Going through something like that alone couldn’t have been easy and he didn’t want to upset her further, but the more he knew, the better he could help her, “Do you see things too?”

Thinking on it in silence, Valerie eventually nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze, “Yeah,” blinking away tears, “The meds never helped, so I stopped taking them. And now I just try to ignore it, but it’s so scary sometimes,” her already soft voice dropped to a sorrowful whisper, “Gosh,” her voice broke, “You must think I’m crazy.”

Finally pushing off the edge of the sink, John dragged the chair closer to Valerie’s tentatively resting his hand over hers on the table. It was so foreign for him, taking someone’s hand like that and the last hand he held was Angela’s, when they’d tried the whole dating thing, but holding hers didn’t feel half as right as holding Valerie’s and John, for the slightest second, though he could get used to it. If only he’d let himself. “I don’t,” he eventually reassured, causing her to look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, a couple drying locks falling over her delicate features, “I see them too, when I was a kid, my parents sent me to a mental institute. They tried everything, electrotherapy,” at that, she gasped sympathetically, “Meds, but nothing helped. And I tried to kill myself.” It was hard to avoid the sympathy that welled up in her gaze, and the way she turned her hand beneath his, so she could circle his fingers in a loose grasp. He hated the vulnerability that came with telling someone the truth about himself, but though his mind protested, John came clean in one go, hoping it would help her open up.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers, and suddenly, she was the one comforting him, “That couldn’t have been easy, but now you have a second chance, right?” Finally, she was starting to admit that she, at least partly, believed him, “Not a lot of people can say they have that.”

“Right,” just realizing how close they’d gotten, both leaning over the table and hands still locked, John pulled away abruptly, resigning to the back of his chair at the kitchen table, “And I’m trying to make the best of it. But this isn’t about me-” When he caught her staring, frown down-turning full, pink lips, he furrowed his brows, “What?”

“You’re hurt,” as quickly as she stood, Valerie was dropping to her knees in front of him, their position leaving John a little more than flustered, “Let me see your arm.” Without his permission, she was already holding on to his left hand, undoing the cuff buttons of his dress shirt, ripped on the sleeve from the earlier confrontation, pushing it up to his elbow, revealing his tattoo along with a large slash running for about six or seven inches at the top of his arm, “It looks like it’s only just started to bleed through the fabric, but it’s bad. It doesn’t need stitches though. You’re lucky, it’s not close to the vein and not too deep either. Do you have a first aid kit? I have supplies in my car, but…..”

“I brought you here in mine,” he huffed. She was so close, and with her looking up at him like that, wide doe eyes so sweet and innocent and plump lips barely agape, it was kind of hard to think, “I have some things,” he breathed, feeling like he should be looking anywhere but at her face, lest he submit to whatever spell that it exuded, the only one he wasn’t immune to. “But you don’t have to-”

“I insist, you saved my life,” she smiled faintly, “Though, if you’d prefer an E.R, I could go with you, my Id’s in my bag so it wouldn’t take too long.”

“No,” he dismissed,” I mean,” floundering for his words, John fought to uncloud his mind, “I can take care of myself, you should get some rest.”

“Look, I’m staying with you so you can do your job, right? You want to help me because its your job?” Sitting back on her heels, Valerie’s hold on his hand continued, “Well since I’m here, you should let me do mine, please.”

Thinking on it, John could tell that Valerie probably wasn’t going to give up the matter so easily, thus, he submitted, “Okay, there should be some things that you can use in the medicine cabinet, above the sink in the bathroom.”

“Good,” she all but leaped up, scuttling off barefoot into the bathroom, only to return minutes later with John’s beat up first aid kit clutched in her small hands. Setting it down, Valerie pulled her chair even closer, so close that when she sat, one of his knees parted hers legs slightly. And when she leaned over to look over his wound, John could smell his soap mixing intoxicatingly with her natural scent. She’d put her hair up with a tie from her purse, and her eyes were trained on his arm, concentration equally reflected in her steady hands, gently dabbing his wound with Hydrogen Peroxide, trying to bring as little pain as possible, “Does it hurt?” 

“A little,” He returned lowly, slightly wincing, “It did before, but I didn’t notice the bleeding until you pointed it out.”

“Okay,” when she was through with cleaning it, Valerie rummaged through the kit again with gloved hands, looking for an antibiotic cream or powder, searching for a while until she found something satisfactory, “There’s some bruising, it shouldn’t cause too many problems, but it’ll still hurt and we should keep an eye on it.”

We

“Alright, thanks,” John kept his eyes on her, admiring how she worked with a tenderness that he found often absent in other medical personnel. It was like, she cared in a personal way, as if he meant something to her already. He wondered if the treatment was exclusive to him, or if it was just something she carried within her. “So, you’re a nurse?”

“Nurse practitioner,” Valerie corrected, “I work in the ICU at Los Angeles General, most of a doctor’s work for half their pay,” she chuckled lightly.

Without warning, John found himself mirroring her smile, the mood lightening. ���So why aren’t you a doctor instead?”

After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders, moving on to wrapping a bandage over his arm, to keep the gauze in place “When I was kid, my mother was an N.P in the E.R, I used to want to be just like her,” Valerie’s face fell, “She always said that I had…..healing hands, whatever that meant.”

By the time Valerie was done, she still held onto his wrist, her thumb tracing circles into his skin, “Can your mom…..or any of your other family see….things?”

As he asked the question, Valerie’s smile, as faint as it was faltered, “No, she couldn’t. I’m actually adopted, and my mom died when I was thirteen.”

“Oh,” his shoulders slumped as John realized that figuring out exactly what she was, was going to be much more complicated than he'd anticipated. Usually, it was easy for him, he could see past the surface, but Valerie, as far as he could see, was perfectly human. And who knew how much her parents, or at least her dad, would know. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago,” her forced smile was enough to tell John that Valerie was done with the topic, and when she moved her hands, starting to pack up everything she’d taken out, “And um, you should take something, for the pain, and try not to get it wet when you shower,” the chair scraped on the worn tiles when she stood, “Thank you for everything but maybe I should see if my dress is dried and-”

“You have to stay here,” John objected hastily, frightening her in the slightest, “I mean,” he tried to broach the matter again, “I mean, it might not be safe for you to get back or stay alone, we still don’t know why that demon was after you, and something else could come just as easily, you really should stay.”

“I couldn’t impose like that,” she shook her head, desperately not wanting to overstay her welcome.

Standing too, John placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, causing her to meet his gaze once more, “You wouldn’t be. Stay tonight, and tomorrow, we can talk about this some more, when you’ve gotten some rest. Please?”

Hesitating for a moment, Valerie weighed the options; go home alone at nearly two in the morning and possibly get attacked by something she knew nothing about, or stay with a somewhat trustworthy though abrasive, handsome stranger and be safe. "Fine, but I have to get my car, first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay," he determined, "I've gotta take a shower, but you can take the bed."

Giving John's place a sweeping look, she noted his mismatched furniture; a rickety kitchen table with four chairs, a long sofa with a couple worn throw pillows nearby in front of her, and behind her, near the furthest window was a bed, haphazardly made. "Where will you sleep?"

"Couch," he gestured to the sofa behind him, trying to move around her, only for Valerie to grab his bicep, stopping him suddenly.

"You don't have to do that, we can share it," when his expression suggested that he wasn't readily on board with the idea, she offered, "Or I can take the couch, whatever is better for you."

It was weird, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed with a man she didn't know. Valerie had only ever had one, one night stand and even then, she'd been too drunk to care whose bed she'd fallen asleep in. But that night, with John, the alcohol had already subsided and though they'd come close to kissing, she was pretty sure he wasn't interested in her like that. 

She'd been laying beneath his thin covers, pillows wedged between his sleeping body and her annoyingly awake one for nearly an hour and a half, and not once had her eyes felt heavy. Valerie was wide awake. 

The digital alarm clock on her side, with its glowing red numbers told her that it was nearing three am and all Valerie could have mustered up by then was, at most, five minutes of shutting her eyes tightly and hoping for the best. Though, the best never came. 

She laid like that for a while more, that was, until John started fretting in his sleep, mumbling incoherently as beads of perspiration gathered on his brow. "John?" Valerie sat up, shifting to face him, too scared of his reaction to rouse him. "John?" She called a bit louder, her worry building. Valerie had seen people have nightmares before, ex boyfriends or patients during a night shift, but they much unlike the one she was witnessing right then. John was thrashing, occasionally yelling.

When he eventually shot up it was minutes later with wide, disoriented eyes, hands reaching out wildly, and maybe she'd heard wrong, but her name leaving his lips in a babbled cry. It took him a while to settle down, but even when he did, Valerie threaded carefully, "Are you okay?"

Her hand lingered in his shoulder, actually itching to cup his cheek, and John gazed at her intensely in the darkness before speaking again, like he had to be sure she was really there, "Yeah," he swallowed thickly, chest dominated by deep, heavy breaths, “It was just a bad dream. You should get back to sleep.”

Ignoring his advice, Valerie squeezed his shoulder affectionately, scooting closer despite her better judgement, jamming her thigh against the makeshift barrier keeping them apart, “Do you want to talk about it? What was it about?” 

Once again, their faces were too close, and it felt too comfortable, so comfortable that neither John nor Valerie showed any signs of moving away from each other. His throat felt tight and dry, though his heart was slowing with every second that her hand remained on his bare shoulder. Healing hands. She was there, and she was okay. When the word finally fell off his lips, lonesome, quiet though speaking immeasurable volumes in the silence, they just stared at each other, not knowing if to lean in or pull away, “You.”

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @luxx-aeterna

[nothorses]

So I really need some help and you’re probably one of the best trans guy blogs I’ve seen so I’m hoping you can help a brother out. Basically I’m a self hating trans man. I feel really shit about being trans all the time. I know I’m trans because I’m dysphoric as all hell and severely depressed because of it, and thinking about being a woman makes me physically sick and of all the things I “vibe” with, being a guy tends to be it. That being said I literally cannot stop being my own worst enemy. I’m literally stuck on the whole “just because you feel like a guy/want to be one that doesn’t make you trans” line and I hate the standard “well I’m a guy because I say I am” reply because.... well it’s just not convincing? Either to transphobes or myself and it’s a point of contention that makes me anxious beyond belief. That and while I really want to stop I literally cannot stop thinking about myself as being a lesser guy or a woman playing dress up. It’s almost to the point where I’m up and out *reminding myself* that I’ll never be a real man and that no one will ever see me as such despite being in an otherwise positive environment save for my parents. I have some pretty good friends I have a wonderful accepting boyfriend who validates me so why do I just feel so shit all the time? I just can’t stop seeing myself as this annoying bratty girl with short hair and a binder that doesn’t actually hide her chest fumbling with her masculinity and trying to pass herself off as “one of the guys” when the guys are just kinda grossed out and freaked tf out by this... thing I am. I know that my dysphoria and euphoria signal to me that I am a man, but I just can’t see it in myself at all. I feel so inferior to cis men in a way words can’t accurately express and I feel terrible. I literally can’t stand to be in this fragile twinkish body anymore and I will literally beg for T from my endo on my hands and knees if I have to. I’m really sorry for putting all this here and for the long tangent but this is a genuine cry for help and I don’t really know where to go or who to turn to or even what to do all I know is that I want this to stop but not in like a way where I ignore the problem or just delude myself into thinking everything is fine and normal and that I’m perfectly accepted when I know for the broader part I’m really not. Any advice you have on this at all would be really appreciated and again I’m sorry for the length of this ask but I’m really in need of some guidance.

I’m really sorry you’re dealing with this. You’re definitely not alone in these feelings, and it can be such an incredibly difficult thing to untangle & heal from. Having self-confidence and trusting yourself to know your own gender can be really, really hard, especially in a society where those things are actively and very intentionally discouraged. And you deserve better.

And honestly, I feel a lot of this. I know all the refrains, and I know a lot of folks that they work for, but “you’re a man because you say you are” is hard for me to fully buy into. I know that it’s true for other people, and I believe them when they say it- it’s just hard for me to trust myself.

I’ve internalized a lot of how society views gender, and it’s not something I can will away; especially when that doubt and transphobia is echoed back by my dysphoria. It’s hard not to see myself as “girl playing dress-up” or “girl mutilating body” or “intruding freak” or whatever else. And it takes a lot of active work on my part to believe, even a little bit, that what I know about myself is real.

It’s good that you know this isn’t how it should be, and that you’re reaching out for help in getting better. That means you can do it! It’ll probably be difficult, but as long as you’re trying to get better, getting better is possible. Even inevitable.

It sounds to me like you might be struggling with self-doubt, self-hate, and internalized transphobia, which means seeking out mental health resources might be a good first step. Professional help is great, and researching some DIY mental health stuff might also be helpful; I’ve found Sanvello and Vent on the google appstore to be good resources for me, but there are a lot of apps and stuff under “mental health” that can can provide a decent starting point.

You don’t need to try to convince yourself of things you know aren’t true: everything is not always “fine”, trans people are not always accepted, and not everyone is going to see you the way you want to be seen. But maybe you can convince yourself that that’s okay?

Things aren’t perfect, and you don’t need to believe they are. In fact, things really suck a lot of the time- and it hurts. Sometimes it feels unbearable. It’s important to let yourself sit with that, when you need to. You maybe just don’t need to sit with it all the time; maybe It’s okay to feel okay sometimes, despite the bad stuff. It’s important to have that balance. It’s important to know that your feelings are real, that they deserve attention and care, and that they’ll pass eventually. You’ll feel okay again.

If you keep looking for the little stuff, it’ll get easier to buy into the bigger stuff. You don’t need to have complete 100% unwavering trust in yourself; I don’t think very many of us do. But it seems like you have a little trust in yourself now, and you can nurture that into more.

Good luck, man, I hope you can get the things you need to heal and grow. You deserve to be able to trust yourself & love who you are.

[zecretsanta]

FIC: Four Times Hazuki Kashiwabara Almost Lost Her Kids (and One Time After They Found Her)

To: @mortellanarts​

From: @grumpsterkitty​

For mortellanarts for Zecretsanta 2020 – “Lotus and her kids on Christmas”. This story mentions a near miscarriage.

AO3 LINK

(1)

It was an accident.

An honest accident.  Not like the ones that would happen at home.

She asked to watch the surveillance tape, after, once she had seen the doctor and she had reassured her that everything was fine.  Even in black and white, she could see the horror on Wendy’s face as she tripped over the electrical cord.  She replayed the moment when Wendy stumbled into her, knocking her into the copier.  Watching as her pregnant belly seemed to compress to an impossibly small size.

If she had lost the girls, she probably wouldn’t have been able to forgive Wendy.

To be honest, she hadn’t forgiven Wendy.

Which wasn’t entirely fair; perhaps the bulk of the blame was on the repair technician, or whoever decided to put the copier against the west wall, which had fewer power outlets, or whoever built and wired the building to begin with.

The blood - her blood - looked dark grey on the video.  It looked innocuous, like spilled soda.

She left the job three months after the twins were born, when she was sure they’d all be able to transfer to her husband’s insurance.

(2)

She cursed under her breath as she dropped the first aid kit.  The alcohol wasn’t even in here, she remembered, as she saw the band-aids scattered across the ground.  A tiny drop of blood slid down her ear and onto the Ace bandage.

The doorbell rang just as she managed to find the alcohol in the clutter under the sink.  She sloppily splashed some on a cotton and glanced at herself in the mirror.  The blood hadn’t gotten on her outfit, at least.  The doorbell rang again, and again, and again, as she barreled down the stairs.

“Dammit, when did you get so impatient?  Girls, Liz is early, are you done with -?”

She was cut short when she entered the dining room and saw their dinner plates still on the table, barely touched, and her daughters nowhere to be found.

“Girls?”

The doorbell ringing continued, but she ignored it.  She went through the rest of the house, picking up the pace as each one was empty.  She was only upstairs for what, ten, fifteen minutes?  Just long enough to change and put on her damn earrings. She called out their names as their babysitter kept pressing on the doorbell.

In panic and rage, she stormed to the front door and flung it open, ready to scream.  But it wasn’t Liz, just Nona and Ennea standing there with popsicles in their hands.

“We didn’t realize the door would lock behind us,” Ennea explained.  The grating music from the ice cream truck got louder as it came down their street.

Hazuki allowed herself a sigh of relief before she chastised them.  “You left, without even asking, to get dessert, before you finished dinner?”

Nona just shrugged while Ennea at least had the decency to look embarrassed.  “Mom, come on.  You know they’re the only one who have the blueberry ones we like.  We’ll still eat our dinner.  We promise.”

“We promise,” Nona reiterated.  “Even the carrots.”

“Maybe half the carrots?” Ennea said, a grimace on her face.  “I read if you eat too many, you can turn orange.”

“You eat too many blueberry popsicles, you’re going to turn blue.  You have a perfectly reasonable portion of carrots on your plate and I expect them to be all gone when I’m done.”

Her daughter’s expression changed, from disgust to worry. “Mama, what happened to your ear?  Daddy … he didn’t come by, did he?”

“No.”  Hazuki kneeled in front of them.  “Remember that paper I told you about?  He can’t come here or he’ll get in a lot of trouble.  It’s just been a little while since I wore earrings and my holes must have closed up.  I tried to force it through and I shouldn’t have.  Now finish up your dessert and eat your dinner.”

Her twins exchanged a glance before heading to the dining room.  She took a deep breath and went back upstairs to finish getting ready.  As much as she had wanted to wear her new jewelry, she could see the earlobe swelling up.

There would be time for wearing earrings, later.  Now that she didn’t have to worry about her husband ripping them out of her ear.

(3)

It started to drizzle, but she stayed on the bench. She could see Deanna about to cross the street into the park.  She had her hand on the stack of hundreds in her purse.  Deanna waved at her and Hazuki clenched her teeth.

It was silly.  Nobody had tailed her, she was certain.

Deanna sat next to her, seemingly uncaring that the bench was wet. Hazuki handed over the envelope of cash without a word.

“It’s definitely done?” Deanna asked.

“I think he could appeal, but he probably won’t.  He didn’t actually want the girls.  He just wanted to hurt me.”

“I hate men.”  Hazuki must have made a face, because Deanna laughed.  “I can hate men and still be a hooker.”

“I thought women in your price range called yourselves ‘escorts’.”

“We’re all the same.  Just because I don’t stand on a street doesn’t make me better.”

“Well.  Thank you.”

The smile faded off Deanna's face.  "I've done this before. That wife wanted to get out of a prenup and take his money. Which I could respect. Guy was an asshole. Do you have a picture of your kids?"

The sudden shift in topic left her mental gears spinning for a moment. She supposed there was no danger in it; she had researched Deanna thoroughly before emailing her.  She dug into her bag and pulled out her keys, with the keychain the girls made for her last year.  The picture inside the heart-shaped frame was of the three of them, the girls flanking her on either side, all of them smiling.

As she handed it to Deanna, the other woman looked like she might cry.

"I see my boy a few times a year, and that's it," she said finally.  “My ex didn’t have a problem with what I did when he got to benefit from the money I made.  Then I found out he was having an affair and he needed to tell the court I was an unfit mother so I wouldn’t get custody and he wouldn’t have to pay child support.”

“System is biased against women.”  She took her keys back and tucked them back into her purse.  “I work hard, take belly dancing lessons, and already started dating again.  That was enough to make the judge question if I was a good mom.  If you hadn’t been willing to –”

“Nobody’s going to protect us.  We have to do it ourselves.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments as the rain started to taper off.

“What does your ex do, exactly?”

Deanna snorted.  “He works for a health insurance company.”

“Any idea how good their firewall is?”

(4)

“Excuse me? Hello? Does anyone work in this hospital?!”

The nurse who came over looked exhausted, with dark bags under her eyes; any other day, Hazuki would have felt bad being so harsh, but she had been there for almost ten minutes and hadn’t gotten a single answer.

“Which kid is yours?” the nurse asked in a near monotone.

“Nona and Ennea Kashiwabara. I got a call they were brought here.”

“Ah, the twins.  Yes.  I’ll find their doctor.”

“Wait, are they okay?”  The nurse seemed to ignore her as she walked down the hallway.  “Can someone just tell me if they’re okay?  What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and almost took the man’s head off when she turned around.  He was entirely too tall, with a well-chewed pen stuck behind his ear.

“I’m Detective Lynch.  Can I help you?”

“I just want to find my damn kids!”

“Kashiwabara, right?  The staff here are a little overwhelmed, but your kids are in good hands.  And your girls are okay.  Nona has a scrape on her knee, but that’s the worst of it.”

“Did you interrogate them?  They’re minors. You can’t –”

He held up a hand.  “I met the detective who rescued them at the pier.  I rode with one of your girls here.”

“Did you say the ‘pier’?  The – but – I was told they were found in a building in Nevada.  Where – what the hell happened to them?  They were missing for days!”

Lynch opened his mouth as if to respond, but suddenly seemed distracted by something just off to her left.  She turned to see what he was staring at, but he reached out and took her hand.

“We’re looking into it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “When the nurse comes back, go be with your daughters.  Take them home.  I’ll give you my card.”

He barely took his eyes off her as he pulled out a business card and scribbled something on the back.  He handed it to her and walked off without another word.  His cursive was sloppy, but she could clearly read the message – not safe, text me, I’ll call you.

“Mrs. Kashiwabara?  Your girls are in room 407.”

When she turned around, there was no one there but the tired-looking nurse.

“The … the policeman who found the kids, where is he?  Is he still here?  Can I talk to him?”

“No, ma’am.  I think he went back to the station.  407 is this way.”

She realized she was clenching her fists and had crumbled up Lynch’s card.  But the writing was still legible.

(+1)

“Are you really sure you’re both okay with this?”

Nona cracked open the oven and clucked her tongue.  “Not quite.  And yes, mom, although it’s a little late to ask again now.  And stop eating all the deviled eggs, or you won’t have room for dinner.”

Hazuki rolled her eyes; before she could grab another egg, Ennea swiped the plate out from under her hand.

“Need me to help with anything?”

“Sure mom, you can make the cranberry sauce.”  Nona handed her can and an opener.  Hazuki sighed heavily as she cut the lid off and schlorped the dark red jelly tube into the bowl.

“There, sauce is made.”

“It’ll be good to see Mamoru again.” Ennea told her.

“Oh, you’re on a first name basis now?”  Nona teased.  “What happened to Detective Watanabe?”

“He hates formality and you know it.  Did you know he shares a name with a porn director?”

“Seriously?”

“Girls.”

“It’s true, though,” Ennea insisted.  “The guy did a film called Virgin Rope Makeover.”

“Did Mamoru tell you that?”

“No, mom, the internet is a thing.”  Nona peeked in the oven again. “Ah, finally.”

Hazuki tamped down the urge to remind her daughter that the turkey pan would be hot and heavy and to be careful.  She had never been one of those mothers while her girls were growing up, but ever since … ever since, it was hard not to be overprotective.  As soon as Nona had the turkey out, Ennea put in the pie.  And then the doorbell rang.

“Okay, please no mention of porn directors,” she told her daughters.

Ennea rolled her eyes as she set a timer and followed Nona out to the living room.  When Mamoru came in, he had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the doorjamb.  He inexplicably had a large cardboard box in his hands.

“Hey, so, uh, hi.  I brought wine, but then I realized I didn’t know if you liked red or white, to I got both, but the girls couldn’t drink it, so I got grape juice, but then I realized I didn’t know if they liked red or white, so I just got both of those, too.”

Nona took the box from him and grimaced as if she hadn’t anticipated how heavy it was.  “No worries.”

He shrugged out of his coat and Ennea giggled as she took it from him and put it on herself.  It was so big on her it was practically a dress, and when she held up her arms, it was clear her hands were where his forearms were supposed to be.

“I call it … Three and a Half,” she declared.  Hazuki smiled and Nona chuckled, but Mamoru looked puzzled.

“Oh,” he said finally.  “’Cause I was Seven.”  With that, he let loose a loud guffaw.

“Go on,” Ennea told him.  “Dinner is basically ready.  Do you feel like carving the turkey?  Mom and I usually butcher it when we try.”

“Uh, sure.”  He followed Nona as she hauled the box of beverages into the dining room.

As Hazuki put her arm around Ennea, she heard Nona ask, “Is it true you share a name with a Japanese porn director?”

(fin.)

[fallen-gravity]

Fightin’ Back Ch 2

That's why I'm so tough on Dipper. So when the world fights, he fights back

or,

five times Stan helped Dipper recover from a rough encounter with the supernatural, and one time Dipper returned the favor.

~

Here’s Chapter 2: Fight Fighters, this time around!

bit of a content warning for this one: this chapter takes place following Fight Fighters, and I like to think the injuries Dipper sustained are a bit worse than just "get up and walk around fine". Sometimes the need to comfort hurt overrules cartoon logic in my brain.

No hospital scene in this chapter, but lots of conversations regarding chest and rib injuries in this chapter. If you're squeamish to that sort of thing, proceed with caution.

AO3

Maybe the reason Stan recognizes the truck pulling up without even seeing it is because of all the time he’d spent memorizing car types by the sound of their engines back in Colombia. When you’re on the run from a mob boss, it does wonders to differentiate similar looking cars from each other when you’re trying to figure out if the coast is clear when your life depends on it.

He still remembers the pattern of Rico’s car, the way the engine would make quiet tut tut tut tut sounds when he was driving real slow along the path of a dirt road. 

Or maybe he just recognizes this car, since he’s heard it pull up to the Shack parking lot every day since its owner turned sixteen and could finally drive himself, even on the days when he wasn’t scheduled to work. Stan would always try brushing him off with fake annoyance, he’d try sending him home to no avail, but deep down Stan really appreciated that there was someone in town that chose to be in his company for something other than necessity. 

Either way, Stan can recognize Soos’s truck pull up without even getting up from his recliner, and boy does he have a story to tell. He can already picture the stars in Soos’s eyes as he embellishes his tale of how he rescued Mabel from the water tower as it came crashing down, and how the adrenaline from saving his grand-niece’s life cured his fear of heights. He straightens his posture up in his chair, takes a sip from his soda, and waits for the inevitable moment Soos is gonna walk in and sit down on the living room floor like he lives at the pace. 

...but that moment doesn’t come, because Soos never walks through the front door. Stan can hear the muffled sound of Soos talking to Dipper, though he can’t really make out what they’re saying. Soos asks Dipper a question, going by the change in the inflection of his voice, and there’s a long pause before Dipper replies. 

Another long minute passes before the door opens and Dipper walks in by himself. Stan’s about to question him on it, but his mouth closes when he sees that Dipper’s favorite vest is nearly torn to shreds, and his shorts have identical holes in each leg that reveal his scraped knees. Most of his face is blocked off by his pine tree cap, and even the color of that has faded from a pristine white to an unpleasant shade of light brown, caked with dirt and grass stains.

That’s right. The whole reason he’d been hiding out at the arcade all day is because that obnoxious teenage boy with the horrible singing voice had challenged him to a fight over....what, Wendy’s honor, or something? Stan doesn’t know, he usually avoids petty teenage drama like the plague. 

Stan settles for a shrug of his shoulders, and raises his soda can to Dipper as if it were a chalice. “How’d it go, Hercules? You win the girl over, or what?”

Dipper’s laugh is weak in response. He removes his hat to wipe some dirt and crushed leaves from his hair, and it’s when he finally meets his gaze that Stan notices that one of his eyes is swollen and bruised shut. 

“Hah,” Dipper tries for cocky, and it fails miserably when his voice cracks. “You should’ve seen the other-” 

He’s suddenly overcome with an intense coughing fit before he can finish his sentence, keeling over and gripping tightly to his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping his little chest from shattering to pieces. His coughs waver in-between wheezes as his breath hitches like he’s about to start crying from the pain of it all. 

Stan’s up to his feet as soon as he recognizes the motions.  He’d had his fair share of experiencing the same thing Dipper’s going through back in his boxing days. When you fight in an underground ring that once stood as an abandoned speakeasy, your competitors never really followed the standard guidelines of a clean fight. You can only get hit in the chest with a boxing glove underlined with sharp rocks or brass knuckles so many times before you’re bound to crack a rib or two. 

But...there’s no way, right? That Robbie kid that’s always coming into the gift shop to flirt with Wendy looks as though he couldn’t weigh more than a pound heavier than Dipper, and for all his tough guy talk and bleeding heart hoodies he still won’t look Stan directly in the eyes when he addresses him.

“Kid…” Stan takes a knee, and Dipper flinches when Stan gently touches his shoulder. “What happened to you?”

“Oh, you know…” Dipper rolls his eyes, subtly avoiding eye contact with Stan. “Robbie and I were gonna fight, but then we, uh, overheard these two other really tough guys duking it out with each other, and, uh, we didn’t wanna get them in trouble with the police!” He flashes a grin. “So we put our differences aside and...tried to tear them off of each other. But wouldn’t ya know it, these guys thought we were attacking them, see? So, uh, they started beating on us, but uh...we eventually got them to stop so we could explain everything, and we all had a good laugh about it” 

Stan raises a skeptical eyebrow. He’s not sure how the kid’s even related to him, if he’s that bad a liar. He honestly would’ve been more convincing if he’d said he’d given himself the black eye, or just said that Robbie just stuck his foot out and tripped Dipper before walking away. But before Stan can question him again, Dipper’s coughing fit returns, and he drops to his knees, gripping his chest like he was suffering a heart attack. 

Whatever Robbie did to him, he clearly doesn’t want to recount it. For the briefest of moments, Stan’s vision goes red, and the half-full soda can he’d been holding suddenly bursts from the sudden pressure of Stan squeezing it like a stress toy.

...What the fuck? What kind of sick freak thinks it’s funny to beat on some poor kid like he’s a punching bag? And for what? Because he has a silly crush on Wendy that he’s probably never going to act upon? Was he never twelve years old? Did he never go through that phase of crushing on every girl that gave him the time of day? It’s not like Dipper was threatening him, or anything, and even if he had, what kind of coward would Robbie have to be to respond this violently? 

Stan sighs, and the sound of it is gruff and lined with anger. He’ll deal with that kid later.

For now…

He reaches out to place a reassuring hand on Dipper’s shoulder, but catches himself and retracts it to his side. He stands to his feet with a grunt, and awkwardly scratches at the back of his head.

“Y’know, I can...help you out with that”

Dipper stops in his coughing for a moment, if only to ask, “Help me with what?”

“Your chest?” Stan puts his hands to his hips and rolls his shoulder. “You think your Great Uncle Stan got so good at fighting and punching things naturally? I’m flattered, kiddo, but I can recognize a damaged rib when I see one.”

“Damaged?” Dipper whispers in horror, grip on his shirt tightening. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy there” Stan’s back to his knee in an instant, resting a large hand on top of Dipper’s frail arm. “These kinds of things happen all the time, see? They ever tell you how easy it is to break someone’s rib when you’re doing CPR?”

Dipper, who’d started chewing anxiously at the collar of his shirt, spits it out, “Y-yeah, we talked about in health class” 

“See? They just snap easy, is all. All you gotta do is follow a few simple home remedies and you’ll be good as new before you know it.”

Dipper raises an eyebrow. “Grunkle Stan, I’m not sure I trust your definition of a home remedy” 

“Ha!” Stan laughs loudly. “I like you, kid. Nah, home remedy just means you don’t need any doctor to charge you hundreds when he’s just going to tell you things you could’ve figured out yourself.”

He stands again. “Find somewhere comfy to sit, kiddo, you’re gonna be there for a while. I’ll run into the kitchen and grab a few things for you that’ll also help with that black eye of yours, while we’re at it”.

“Okay,” Dipper mumbles, his voice sounding closer and closer to a whimper, and he sits down on Stan’s recliner. Just before Dipper can settle his back against the rest, though, Stan gently reaches behind Dipper’s back and hands him the extra cushion. 

“And, uh, if you start having another coughing fit, which you probably will, try holding this to your chest instead of clawing at your chest with your hands. It’ll hurt a lot less” 

Dipper doesn’t respond with words this time, just with a small smile as he reaches for the remote on the recliner's armrest, and that’s all the response Stan needs. He disappears into the kitchen and opens the fridge to look around for something that could suffice as an ice pack. Stan curses under his breath at himself for not picking up a box of gel packs the last time he was at the store, but chalks it up as a mental note to just buy double what he thinks he needs next time he’s there just in case. 

Stan eyes fall on a half-eaten bag of frozen corn forced closed with a hair tie, and places it on the counter beside him. That should suffice for his chest, since Dipper could just place it between the armrest and himself so he doesn’t even have to bother trying to hold it in place. Humming to himself, Stan continues to rummage through the fridge to find something...softer for Dipper to hold over his black eye. 

He freezes when he comes across the large steak packed away with the other meat cuts. Does he dare live up to the stereotype? He’s not even sure if it was ever proven whether or not using a steak for a black eye even did anything, and he was never able to afford one when he was younger when he needed something to take care of his own black eyes.

As a matter of fact, it’s a miracle he can even afford the steak now. He remembers purchasing it after a particularly good sales week, and how he told himself that it’s for special occasions, and that he’d only buy it just this once, because he knew if they became a regular purchase he’d bankrupt himself before the end of the tourist season. He holds the slowly defrosting package in his hand, weighing his options, when the sound of Dipper laughing weakly at something on the TV rings into the kitchen from the other room.

...Screw it. 

He closes the fridge door, and rips open the plastic packaging surrounding the steak cut. He takes the roll of paper towels off of its stand, and uses it to wrap the bag of frozen corn, and carries the two makeshift ice packs back out to where Dipper’s still sitting in front of the television.

“Uh, bon appetit” He says, offering the two makeshift ice packs to Dipper. He laughs, squishing the cushion against his chest as he takes them.

“I know you’re just trying to help, but I think it’s low even for you to expect me to cook my own dinner after this”, he smirks. “You could’ve at least asked if I even wanted steak and…” he shakes the bundle of paper towel in his hand “...whatever this is.”

“Hardy har har” Stan replies sarcastically, and takes a knee beside the recliner. “Look, I know a lot of these are gonna sound contrasting, but you have to follow my advice very carefully.” He holds up the bundle of paper towels. “This one’s for your chest. All that coughing you’re doing is gonna hurt your rib even more, and in a little while you’re gonna see some bruising. Try to keep this ice pack on the places where the bruising looks the worst. You’re gonna wanna keep it there as long as you can handle it the next couple of days. If it gets too cold, you gotta adjust the paper towels, and if it stops feeling cold at all you have to replace your pack” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Right now that’s corn, because it’s the first thing in the fridge I could find, but I’m sure there are a lot better things in there you could use in case it defrosts”

He holds up the steak. “This one should be pretty obvious. I made sure that frozen bundle for your chest was small so you could use it without holding it, but this one’s another story entirely. This one you’ve got to hold up to your eye, but don’t push on it. Just sort of...squish it up to your face.” He shrugs. “You gotta keep at it until you’re sure the swelling goes down, and then you’re gonna need to switch to a hot compress instead”

Stan just knows that one day, once Dipper's better, he’s going to corner him and ask how he knows all of this medical information. He just knows he is. Better not dwell on that now, and as soon as the kid doesn’t need his immediate attention he can always sneak off so he can think of a good excuse that’ll convince the kid to get off his back about it. 

Oh, and while he’s on the subject of sneaking off…

“Now listen to this last part, and listen good. This is the most important rule, and if I catch you breaking it I’m driving you to the hospital and leaving you there”.

That came out a lot harsher than he intended, but Dipper’s frantic nod is enough to tell him he got the picture. 

“For the next couple of days, I don’t want to hear a peep about you running around in the woods trying to solve some spooky mystery. I don’t wanna hear you jumping into the passenger side of Soos’s truck, and I don’t want to hear you running into Wendy’s arms even if she suddenly decides she wants to marry you, or something”

Dipper’s face goes beet red. “Uh, actually, that last one-” 

“Doesn’t matter” he cuts him off. “You go running off into those woods and you’re going to make it all worse. Got it?”

Dipper looks hurt, but Stan can tell it’s not him he’s upset at. 

“Yes, Grunkle Stan” he murmurs, and Stan grins as he stands to his feet, ruffling Dipper’s hair.

“Ah, cheer up kid, it’s not gonna be as terrible as you think it is. You get to sleep down here in the recliner instead of walking all the way up those creaky stairs, and I bet if I even mention the idea of a slumber party to your sister she’s gonna bring your whole bedroom down here to keep you company” 

Dipper huffs in quiet laughter. “Yeah, yeah, I guess that doesn’t sound too awful” 

“See?” Stan snaps his fingers. “You’re sounding better already.” There’s a pause, as an idea comes to him, and then, “You think you’d be okay if I stepped out for an hour or so? Your sister should be around here somewhere if you need anything”

Dipper blinks. “You’re leaving so soon after you told me I couldn’t?” 

Stan laughs. “Just gotta run some old man errands, kiddo, I don’t think they’d be up your alley even if you could come with” 

“...Fair enough” Dipper shrugs, and slumps back into his chair. 

~~

Once Stan pulls his car into downtown, it doesn’t take long to find where Robbie had disappeared to. The old car he definitely borrowed from his parents based on the bumper stickers is parked right out in the open in the lot of the arcade, almost as if he was acting like nothing had happened between him and Dipper at all. 

Stan parked his own car beside his, and with a quick glance in one direction he could see that Robbie’s car was empty, which meant he must be inside, and a quick glance to the other direction told him that there weren’t any cops around. 

Perfect. 

Opening his car door as quietly as he can, Stan slips out of the door of his car and crouches as low as he can towards Robbie’s car, lest anyone in the arcade catch onto what he’s doing.  From his suit he pulls a pocket knife, and in one, two, three quick motions he slashes the wheels of the car, leaving only one perfectly intact.  With a grin on his face he slinks back into car and speeds away from the arcade as fast as he can, screaming out the open window that nobody messes with the Pines family and gets off scot-free. 

[joaquinwhorres]

The Fool (Ch. 3) {Fred Weasley x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› After getting tangled up with the Weasley Twins during the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Wren Collings’ life takes a turn for the chaotic. It threatens everything she has going for her, but she’s not convinced that’s entirely a bad thing.

PAIRING ››››› Fred Weasley x Female OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 5,500-ish

WARNINGS ››››› There is no depression or mental health issues in this story, but there are mentions of death, violence, abuse, some PTSD, etc. As most of the specific warnings revolve around major plot points or are found throughout most chapters, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG-13.

A/N ››››› This chapter This chapter kicked my butt. But the fact that it's written and posted and I did not disappear for a year (which has been known to happen when I can't seem to get a chapter right) is a victory.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net

Word of the Thom Spiro Incident--what Wren had finally agreed to call the small display of justice at lunch--spread quickly throughout the castle. While this was somewhat worrisome, it was not an entirely unexpected consequence. Besides, for the most part, the student body seemed focused on the fact that Thom had rather abruptly turned completely violet and not so much on the hows, whos, and whys of the situation.

Although Wren was fairly certain that it was only a matter of time before those questions would ripple through the castle, she was proved wrong on her way to Divination. As she was passing by a gaggle of third year girls, she overheard their whispers: apparently, during the fourth to fifth block class change, Professor Snape had been seen arguing with Professor Sprout about her standards for admission to her NEWT level class. This news quickly passed from student to student, bringing new life to the buzz surrounding the Incident and easing Wren's anxiety a bit.

While a purple student and quarreling professors would be enough to keep the student body talking for at least a week, right before dinner the drama came to a head when loud shouts were heard coming from the Hospital Wing. According to Lee, three girls had been dragged out by Hagrid and Madam Hooch, kicking and screaming at each other. From what he could gather, each of them had been to visit Thom only to discover he was dating all three of them.

This of course had inspired Fred Weasley to give a small toast in Wren's honor, despite her protests that he "Sit down!" and "Shh!". Afterwards, the Twilight Protectorate--the name Alicia saw fit to bestow upon them--spent the rest of dinner sharing the various speculations they'd heard throughout the day about "the purple Ravenclaw."

But much in the same way the purple slowly faded from Thom's skin, so did the excitement surrounding the incident. Life moved on. Thom's Herbology station was moved closer to Professor Sprout, the Weasley twins stopped making a show of watching Wren's every move, and normal life at Hogwarts resumed.

For the most part.

There seemed to be a lingering closeness between Wren and her dorm mates. Alicia had taken to insisting that Wren come to the library with her and Angelina and Katie or join their game of Exploding Snap or come and lay out on the lawn with them.

This was exactly where the girls found themselves stretched out now, Angelina halfheartedly working on her muggle studies homework, the rest having long given up on their own parchments and books scattered between them.

“Reckon we don’t have too many days left like this,” Katie mused, tucking her arms under her head as she lifted her face to the sun.

“I’m surprised we even got this one,” Angelina remarked, scratching out an answer and rewriting a new one.

It was unusually pleasant even for early October. The girls' jumpers were plenty to keep them warm against the cool breeze that swept across the lawn every now and then, rustling their parchments and flipping pages in their books.

"It'd be nice if it stayed like this for your birthday," Katie said. "We could do something on the lawn then."

Angelina shook her head as she continued to scan through the book in front of her for a bit of information. "We don't need to do anything for my birthday."

"You're turning 17," Alicia pushed, as if the fact that Angelina would finally be of age was lost on her. "You'll officially be able to do magic whenever you want."

"And drink whatever you want," Wren put in, lifting her head up from her folded arms and propping her chin up in her hand.

"I want to see Angelina do shots of Firewhiskey," Katie smiled, turning onto her stomach to stare at Angelina. Angelina, for her part, simply rolled her eyes.

"Not going to happen," she said, with a firm shake of her head, quill scratching lightly against the parchment. "The only thing that's really going to be any different over the next eight months is that I can enter the Tournament."

Alicia gasped excitedly, jerking up into a seated position. "You're going to do it?"

"Do what?"

Wren jumped as there was a flurry of robes next to her and Lee Jordan settled himself next to her, stretching out his feet and leaning back on his arms.

"Angelina's going to enter the Tournament!" Alicia responded as Fred and George dropped themselves into the spaces between Katie and Alicia, and Wren and Angelina.

"Excellent," Fred said, nudging books out of the way with his foot. "We'll be putting our names in as well."

"But your birthdays aren't until April," Katie's brow furrowed as she stacked the book Fred moved on top of another one.

"That's right," George nodded.

"You have to be 17 to enter," Katie pressed.

A smile quirked at the corner of Fred's lips. "And when has something as trivial as a rule ever stopped us?"

Alicia snorted, and Angelina heaved a sigh, closing her book and rolling up her parchment.

"The way we see it, all we have to do is fool the judge. And if he--"

"It," Wren corrected, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. The eyes of the group fell on her as Fred's sentence was abandoned.

"It?" George repeated.

Wren looked up, glancing around the circle. "Well, the judge can't be a person."

"Do go on," Fred extended a hand as if to prompt her. Angelina smacked at his shoulder and he withdrew his hand, scowling at her.

Wren flushed, and shook her head, but George nudged her with his shoulder. "C'mon, all theories are worth hearing."

"Well, it can't possibly be a professor from any of the three schools; they're not impartial. And it's unlikely it'll be a Ministry person either since a victory for Hogwarts is a victory for Britain. And I doubt they'd get some international ministry member to come in and decide. For one, they're much too busy, and for two, they'd be easily swayed by international politics. Which means that it's probably some sort of object like the sorting hat, or maybe a creature."

There was a brief silence after her observation followed by a small "Huh." out of Fred.

"That does make what Dumbledore said about personally ensuring no underage student hoodwinks the judge," Alicia nodded. "It's unlikely a judge able to determine the best the school has to offer would be easily tricked."

Fred looked thoughtfully over Wren's shoulder, his eyes distant and brow furrowed slightly. Beside her George was also stiller than normal, only drumming his thumb lightly against his leg.

"Reckon you'll put your name in, if we figure out a way around the judge?" Lee asked Alicia who shook her head.

"I'm happy being a spectator for once," she said, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I just hope one of you gets it. It'll be nice to have a Gryffindor champion to cheer for."

"Trust me," Fred said, his eyes landing on Wren. "There'll be a Gryffindor champion."

Wren sank into a spot at the Gryffindor table with just twenty minutes to spare before she had to head off to Charms. It was not the first time she'd woken up with a start followed immediately by a sinking sensation at the sight of her empty dorm. It wasn't even the first time this year. She'd cut it even closer just two weeks back. Still, any morning that entailed sprinting down seven staircases all while praying that Peeves didn't notice her never instilled a feeling of victory or relief or even gratitude when she turned into the Great Hall and there was still food on the tables.

All that to say, she was not in the best of moods when the Weasley twins sat themselves across the breakfast table from her with identical mischievous smiles on their faces.

"How would you like to make magical history?" Fred asked.

Wren blinked twice, her heart still racing from her run, as she stared between the two of them. "Morning to you as well. I'm fine enough, thank you for asking. And no, I wasn't about to use that jam, please help yourself," she said bitterly, gesturing to where George was topping a bit of toast with raspberry jam that Wren had just been about to use before it slipped from under her fingers.

"Excellent, now that we've gotten the pleasantries out of the way, what do you say?" Fred gestured for her to answer. Wren continued to glare at George until he handed the jar back over to her so she could continue fixing her breakfast.

"What do you mean magical history?" she asked. Despite the fact that her attention was on her plate, she could practically feel the grins grow on the twins faces. It was rather annoying.

"Knew she'd be curious," Fred shot to George.

"Never doubted it," George shot back.

Wren placed the knife down, shaking her head. "I take it back. If I know you two, this isn't going to be anything good. I don't want any part of it."

"Look at this, Fred, she's got us all figured out."

"Well, George, we have had three conversations together. I'd say that's enough to infer motives."

Wren ignored the bickering and leveled them with a look. "I know you two well enough to know that you're Fred," she said pointing to the twin claiming to be George, "And you're George."

Their eyes brightened with delight. "Well spotted, Collings," Fred complimented. "What gave us away?'

Before Wren had a chance to make up some sort of answer--there was no way she was going to give away the tricks Angelina had taught her--George cut in. "You're forgetting, Fred, that Wren and I are close personal friends," he remarked with a significant look, punctuating the statement with a bite of his toast.

Wren's eyes widened and she felt the heat rush into her cheeks. "We don't need to speak about that. Ever."

Fred laughed. "That bad was it?"

"Hang on now, you hardly gave me any warning," George argued, defensively.

Wren glowered at them some more and resolved herself to never be late to breakfast ever again.  "Get back to your original point or I'm leaving."

"Fine, fine," Fred agreed, squaring his shoulders to face her. "How would you like to be the first witch to brew a potion that stumps Albus Dumbledore?"

"Be serious then," Wren shook her head, expecting the twins to come clean about asking for help with a prank or some other sort of mischief. But instead, they simply peered intently at her with expectant looks on their faces. "You're joking. No. "

"You're in NEWT level potions," George said.

"As a Gryffindor no less," Fred added.

"Angelina says you have top marks too." George casually bit into his toast again.

Wren's stomach let out a grumble and she paused the conversation long enough to take a bite of her scone. She chewed it slowly, eyeing the twins as if expecting them to break and admit they were teasing her. Instead they looked at her with eyebrows raised and hands folded in front of them as if at a business meeting. She swallowed, shaking her head.  "That just means I'm good at paying attention and following instructions."

George gave a meaningful look to Fred. "Modest, this one."

"Incredibly," Fred nodded back at his brother. Wren huffed and returned to her breakfast, multitasking by giving the two a rude hand gesture.

They didn't seem to get the point.

"It's admirable, really."

"A shining example to all of wizardkind."

"Stop it, you two," Wren snapped.

Fred shook his head, reaching over to Wren's plate and stealing a piece of bacon, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good platter of it sitting slightly to his right.

"You've got a gift Wren Collings," George appealed. "This could be your time to show it off."

"Not only that, but you're clever and more devious than you appear,"  Fred said, waving the bacon at her. "Far more devious than a prefect's girlfriend should be."

Wren shot him a dirty look, but before she could properly chew him out, George jumped in. "We need your help."

She looked down at her plate and picked up the remaining piece of bacon before either of the twins could reach for it. "What potion do you want me to brew?"

This mischievous grins were back on their faces, and this truly was a horrible idea.

"Just a simple ageing potion." Fred shrugged.

"Oh yes, very simple; all I have to do is brew a potion that instantaneously ages every cell in your body the exact same amount."

"That about explains it," George nodded, and Wren shook her head.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you need an ageing potion?"

"Thought it'd be obvious," Fred said, reaching over to her plate to grab a scone, and she slapped his hand away. "It's for the Tournament of course. Just in case there's some sort of measure to make sure we're 17."

Wren laughed again, this one slightly more disbelieving than full on incredulous. "There's no way I'll be able to make a potion good enough  to get you into the Tournament--get your own bloody scone, Fred." Wren snapped, batting away his hand once more. He raised his eyebrows but finally started to pick at the surrounding serving plates rather than take from hers.

"Don't be so self-defeating Wren," George broke in. "You brewed one well enough on the NEWTs to get an O. Besides, we're not asking you to get us picked--just to help us submit our names."

Wren shook her head. "Do you have a plan for gathering the ingredients? Or figuring out how to haul a cauldron to some unseen location so I can brew a potion without anyone in Hogwarts noticing?"

Fred paused from preparing his own scone to look at Wren disbelievingly. "It's like you don't even know us at all."

"And here we were thinking that you got us."

Wren rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore that small question that had wriggled its way out of the back of her mind: could she create a potion that stumped Dumbledore's magic? No, the thought was absolutely ludicrous. He'd been practising magic for 100 years more than her. But could she create a potion that slid through a crack in Dumbledore's thinking? She didn't need to overcome his magic; she just needed to outwit it. And who was better at outwitting brilliant thinkers than the two boys sitting in front of her.

"I'll consider it," Wren said, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

The energy buzzing around the two boys was almost electric. "They're going to read about you in History of Magic," George declared.

"Or at least fall asleep on your page."

Wren broke off a bit of her scone and tossed it at Fred who allowed it to bounce off of him before popping it into his   mouth.

"Might want to pack up the rest," George said, gesturing at Wren's plate. "Breakfast is over in--" The serving dishes around them vanished, and Wren just managed to grab a half of her scone before her plate and its contents disappeared as well.

She really had to wake up earlier in the morning.

"Here," George said, offering a piece of toast he had snatched up. Wren didn't even bother to fake a protest at the kindness, and instead took it from him with a small thanks. After all, he was part of the reason she hadn't been able to eat her full breakfast. A small part, but a part.

Wren rose from the table, the twins getting up as well and moving to her side. "Shouldn't take much to get the ingredients. Quick OWL to the Apothecary should get us what we need." Fred thought aloud.

"Might have to go closer to home than that," George said with a meaningful look to Fred. Fred nodded, thinking about it before his eyes turned to Wren.

"I suppose we do know someone taking NEWT level potions who does have access to--"

"No," Wren said, clearly. "I'm not stealing from Snape."

"We wouldn't call it stealing," George protested.

"It's simply a reallocation of supplies," Fred shrugged. "Still for an education."

"A hands on, useful education."

Wren rolled her eyes and continued on. "You're in charge of the cauldron and ingredients. If I agree to do anything it's just to make the potion."

"Oh, you'll agree," Fred said, trailing behind her slightly with George.

"You're sure, are you?" Wren asked, turning around in the hall.

Fred's eyes sparkled. "Dead certain."

Wren rolled her eyes and spun back around, polishing off the remainder of her scone and brushing her hand against her side. Behind her the boys continued their conversation about ingredients and she worked her way to the Charms classroom.

"Hey Collings, my mate thinks you're tidy!" a voice shouted out to her, and she stopped, spinning around to see  Simon strolling up with Hector and Edmund. Simon rolled his eyes as Hector laughed, and Wren smiled, allowing him to catch up to her. Fred and George also stopped, and she could feel both pairs of eyes on her.

"Good morning, love," Simon said, coming up to her and letting Hector and Edmund pass by snickering and casting a glance back at Simon.

"It's morning, not sure how good it is though," Wren pouted, falling into step with him.

Simon smiled. "You shouldn't be so grumpy in the mornings. It doesn't suit you," he said, rubbing the crease in her brow with his finger. "Besides, isn't it a good morning when you get a rare sighting of your boyfriend?"

"A fair point," Wren agreed, allowing herself a smile as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Is that toast?" he asked, looking down at her hand, and Wren nodded. Simon reached over plucking it from her grip and taking a bite. "You mind? I'm still famished."

"Go ahead," Wren nodded.

"Where are you off to then?" Simon asked, taking another bite of toast.

"Charms."

The word didn't come from Wren. Instead, Fred appeared suddenly by her side, George next to him. Wren could see the subtle shift in Simon's face. The confusion and small question there as he looked down at her. "Is that so?"

Wren rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her heart seemed to skip over a beat. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Fred asked, putting a hand over his own heart. "I'm wounded Wren, I thought we were friends."

Wren snorted and shook her head.

"You're friends?" Simon asked, looking down at her again before casting a glance and Fred and George. "That's news to me."

"Keep a catalogue of her friends do you?" Fred asked. Wren turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. His words seemed sharper than his usual teases. Her heart beat a bit quicker.

"Smart. Must come in handy when this one goes on about her day," George nodded. "Or at parties, I'd imagine."

Wren laughed, the sound higher than normal. She cleared her throat and reached up, threading her fingers through Simon's so that both hands rested on her shoulder.  "Our campsites were next to each other at the World Cup and we got on," she explained, looking up at Simon as he absently bit from the toast, eyes still on the twins. "Now they bother me whenever they have the chance."

"You know us. Botherers." George said, and Simon shook his head at it all. He might have said something else if the Hallway didn't split, one leading to the greenhouses, and the other off to Charms.

"Well, so long as they don't bother you too much," he said, pulling Wren in closer to him. He leaned down and kissed her hard, his lips pressing against hers so forcefully, she felt the blood and heat rush to her face as she attempted to pull the kiss back into a normal hallway peck. She was rather unsuccessful and stayed locked in his embrace until eventually he let go, and with a nod of goodbye at Fred and George, turned off down the hall.

"Change your mind about how good the morning is Collings?" George nodded appraisingly, as a slightly stunned Wren turned back towards them.

"Oh, shove it," Wren snapped lightly before following them off to class and enduring more teasing than she possibly should have to for it being before nine in the morning.

She intended to tell them no.

It wasn't as if she had any moral qualms with breaking the rules, but it seemed to be a lot of wasted time and energy and for what--so they could attempt to enter a tournament they weren't even prepared for? There was no guarantee they'd even be picked. And what if it came back on her and she got in trouble for breaking the rules.

No. She'd have to tell them no.

Even though Simon was right and the school year had smoothed out some in terms of workload, she was too busy to willingly waste her time on a pipe dream.

But the spare bits of time that were already wasted once she was finished taking notes in class and waiting for everyone else to catch up? That wasn't too much time to devote to the idea.

Wren bent over her parchment, scanning over her list of prospective ingredients. There was the set list needed, and then several others she'd included on a whim: dandelion root, tadpole legs, a little more fluxweed. She considered the list for a second before scrawling at the bottom: boomslang skin?

"What are you working on?" Cedric whispered, lowly. Wren's head snapped towards him, an arm reflexively coming around her parchment as if to shield it from view.

He let out an amused exhale and raised his eyebrows as if to say Really? "An illicit project then?"

"No," Wren returned defensively. She paused, taking a moment to fully consider it.  "Maybe."

Cedric smiled, and she lifted up her pitiful shield arm, putting her head  in her hand instead to shield his face from view as she slid the parchment over to him.

"An ageing potion?" Cedric asked, a tinge of disappointment coloring his voice. "What's so--" he seemed to catch on then. "For the Tournament?"

Wren nodded and dropped her hand. "It's not for me, though."

"Of course not," he dismissed, eyes returning to the list of ingredients with her additions and ideas about ways to modify the brewing process.

"It's not," Wren protested a bit too loudly, casting her glance around and finding Snape staring at her. She picked up her quill and bent her head down, pretending to be copying more notes.

"I don't blame you for wanting to enter, I'm planning on it," Cedric noted, dropping his own voice lower as well. "What's with all of the extra ingredients?"

Wren chanced another look up at Snape, whose head was bent over a stack of parchments on his desk. She looked over Cedric's shoulder at her notes. "If I want to make a potion that gets around Dumbledore's precautions, it can't be a simple ageing potion. It needs to address any potential...failsafes."

Cedric turned to look at her. "You're a bit of a genius, aren't you?"

Wren flushed. "I haven't even decided if I'm going to make it yet."

"I don't see why not," Cedric said, pushing the parchment back over to Wren. "If you're able to make this, you'd deserve more of a shot at being Champion than me. I'm just putting my name in. I do have a question though," he said, and Wren nodded, looking down at her scribblings.

"Have you considered adding lovage?"

She shook her head.

"If you crushed it right, the effects would be harmless to the drinker, but it would sweat through…"

"And create an air of confusion around them," Wren finished, eyes widening. The aura might make it more likely for the seller to miss the fact that the twins were aged up. "That's brilliant," she complimented, adding the ingredient to her list.

"Happy to have helped," Cedric nodded at her, his eyes catching on something up front before bending over his work. "Snape's coming," he hissed.

Wren shuffled the notes between other bits of parchment under her books, pulling out her finished Potions notes and feeling a little less than certain in her impending refusal of the twins' request.

No good deed went unpunished.

That was the only possible explanation for Fred Weasley to be dropping his books next to hers right now. She was being punished for turning Thom Spiro purple. Despite the fact it was two weeks later. It seemed that karma took time.

"Don't look so excited," Fred chastised. "I've recently learned that Herbology is serious business, so I can't be helping you with your mischief."

Wren glowered, and in return, he winked at her.

“This is part of your plan isn’t it?” Wren asked, narrowing her eyes at Fred. “All that on Tuesday was so you’d get reassigned to be my partner?”

She was referencing, of course, the awful prank he had played on Anthony Hooper. Throughout the entire class Fred had continuously baited the Poulpeplant into wrapping one of its vines around Anthony’s foot so that any time he moved, it yanked him back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

It hadn't been until the end of class that Anthony caught Fred dropping bits of bait into his pants' cuff.

The class had had a laugh and ended before Professor Sprout had been able to fully lecture Fred about the dangers of messing around in Herbology.

She still had plenty of time to take away 25 points from Gryffindor, though.

“Now why would I want to be your partner? You poisoned your last one.”

“I did not!” Wren hissed. “He wasn’t my partner, and it was a light poisoning at most.” She paused, pieces clicking together. "You're here to get me to help you steal ingredients. Aren't you?"

"First off, I believe I already clarified that we aren't stealing--we're reallocating. And second, you made it very clear that obtaining ingredients wasn't part of the deal."

"It's not."

"Could be though."

"But it's not."

"You have been known to be light-fingered."

Wren glared and Fred smiled. “We have another plan for the ingredients. Getting reassigned to be your partner is but a happy accident.”

She did not believe him. "I'm not helping you get ingredients. I haven't even decided if I'll help you," Wren said.

Fred gave her a very disbelieving look and then reached over, and tugged her copy of Advanced Potions Making from her stack of books. Wren let out a noise of protest, but before she could further yell at him, he cut her off. "You don't have Potions today."

Wren reached over to grab the book back as her clear objection was ignored. "You know my schedule?"

"Of course I do. It's part of the planning," he dismissed, pulling it out of her grasp and holding it up. "Which begs the question why are you carrying this around?"

It was then that he seemed to catch sight of the parchment sticking out and slipped it out from the book.

Wren reached forward only to have Fred shove the book back in her hands. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this looks like the makings of an age potion."

There was no point in arguing that it was for Potions. Fred was frustrating, grandstanding, and overeager, but sadly, he was not stupid.

"I wanted to see if it could even be done before I agreed to it."

"You were curious," Fred grinned, looking rather like the niffler that caught the galleon.

"I was being practical," Wren defended.

Fred shook his head. "You already knew you could make an age potion. You wanted to see if you could make the best age potion." Fred bent over the parchment. "So what's with these ingredients?"

Wren summoned the parchment back to her and it flew through Fred's fingers, rolling itself up so she could tuck it in her bag.  "I was brainstorming different ways to make the potion foolproof. Or fool sure. Adding an aura of conversion, binding it more strongly with your DNA, making the effects more permanent--"

"More permanent?" Fred asked. "Eager as I am to enter the Tournament, it's not worth losing six months of life over."

"Not permanent permanent," she corrected. "Just until your birthday."

Fred seemed less uneasy and more curious now. "Why?"

"Because Dumbledore knows we all brewed aging potions for the NEWTS."

"Honestly, I'm flattered by how intelligent you think I am, but I'm going to need you to explain more," Fred prompted.

Wren opened her mouth to explain right as Professor Sprout called the class to order. Wren shut her mouth turning to the front, listening as the professor began to explain their fertilization experiment for the day. Beside her, she could still feel Fred's eyes intensely on her, and she knew he wouldn't drop the conversation.

"What if whatever Dumbledore does to protect the judge can sense if your age changes faster than it naturally should? If the age potion were to wear off on your birthday, the change of age would seem natural. Right?" Wren whispered.

"You're a bloody genius," Fred murmured back, and Wren shook her head, her cheeks heating up. "A natural inventor."

"I'm not inventing anything. Just using theory to adapt a potion that should otherwise already work," Wren argued lightly.

"In the history books, Wren. You're gonna be in history books."

Wren shook her head and decided to give Professor Sprout her full attention.

...

Despite what Wren might have supposed, Fred had quite a knack for Herbology. Between the two of them, had managed to distract and add new fertilizer to three of the five Poulpeplants in the time it took most students in the class to get just one. Wren changed it up to Fred being both extremely distracting by nature and surprisingly nimble. Although frankly that shouldn't have been much of a surprise what with all of the pranks he pulled around the castle. Still, Wren couldn't help but admire his focus and skill.

"We make a natural team," Fred said with a grin, nudging Wren's shoulder. She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips turned up.

"We're just both good at Herbology," Wren dismissed.

Fred heaved a great sigh. "Oh come on, Wren. You want to help us. I can see it in you. You've practically done half of the work already."

Wren shook her head, taking up the defensive stance in front of the plant. Fred stood behind the plant, his eyes fixated on her as if he were proficient at Occlumency. Maybe it was the fear that he was that drove her to finally say, "Oh, alright, then."

A bright look of triumph flashed across Fred's face as he beamed. "Excellent. We'll negotiate the details later, but right now, you might want to hold your nose."

Wren's brow furrowed. "What?"

And then she smelled it. A putrid smell clawed up Wren's throat, choking her and turning her stomach. Quickly she backed away from the plant, flinging an arm over her nose as Fred's hand shot up. "Professor! Is the fertilizer supposed to smell like this?" his voice came out nasally due to his nose being pinched between his two fingers. Professor Sprout hurried towards them as Fred cast Wren a wink.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she looked under the table. A dung bomb.

"Everyone out of the greenhouse," Professor Sprout ordered, as the students made for the door, coughing and gagging. It took all of four minutes for the class to fully escape into the fresh air, fanning out on the lawn. Wren pulled in lungful after lungful of the crisp air, but the memory of the smell seemed set on her clothes.

Beside her, Fred was receiving an excellent telling off from Professor Sprout, ending with him earning himself a detention fertilizing all of the greenhouses for a week. He looked appropriately remorseful throughout the ordeal, but as Professor Sprout turned and headed towards the greenhouse to clear it out, he cast a look out of the corner of his eye to Wren.

He was a genius. A mad genius. But a genius all the same.

[drake-the-incubus]

Post Note: This is long and I’m sorry.

I want to expand on what I mean but not use that post to do so.

Believe it or not, “x is a sign of y” isn’t as harmful as everyone is screaming about.

For example, my knees. I intermittently use a cane. Recently I haven’t had to use it- or I’ve forgotten it- but I have had days where I needed it.

I’ve had bad knee pain for a long ass time. Issues with pain in my legs in general.

But a lot of the time it would be a dull throb and I was fairly active as a kid and teen.

I also have a joint cracking problem. And I don’t mean I’m purposefully cracking my joints- though I do- I mean I’ve earned the nickname, “snap, crackle and pop” and “rice krispies”.

And my mom, when I was 12, went in for osteoarthritis and after years of pain finally found out she had a degenerating back that caused her back to create shards and she had a pinched cyatic nerve.

Forgive me as I’ve never seen this written down.

I’ve also had a problem with being incredibly sick as a child. Bronchitis to Bronchial Pneumonia almost yearly, and a couple of gland infections.

Do you know what mom tells me and I do?

Warning signs. Very common and not at all unusual warning signs.

I’m at risk for arthritis. In fact mom and I are both certain if it’s not there in my knees it’ll develop at some point.

In fact, earlier this year, I had back pain. God awful back pain. It ran down one leg at some point.

So I asked my mom because these were the symptoms for her issues. She told me to immediately see a doctor.

To most, that’s an overreaction. But it’s not.

I’ll round back to my sickly childhood.

I have a devil of a cough, I’ll hack up a lung if I have a fit. In fact if I’m ill I have the chance to seriously damage my throat- Halls my saviour.

I’ve had colds turn into serious medical issues because they don’t go away on their own, and what was considered a cold turned out to be an infection.

So now I’m hyper vigilant. A cold that last three days with medicine, I go to the doctor. If it’s just a cold, I’ll refuse their medicine, if it’s bronchitis, I’ve caught it early and now can avoid an emergency room visit.

Because of this sickly thing I’ve had for over two decades of my life- since I was an infant/toddler- I now have to tell people I live with, “hey if I’m sick too long tell me I’ll need to see a hospital”.

COVID came around and I literally got messages from multiple people worried I was going to die if I caught it, and I’m going to say, I’m terrified. I’ve been in the hospital multiple times due to illness, days away from being hospitalized.

The virus fucking terrified me. I’ve had more than ten scares of having it, with no idea what I should do, so I treated myself with care, waited for day three, when it didn’t come I was relieved.

I’ve nearly died twice to an allergic reaction, to this day, I’m deathly allergic to two things and I don’t know what they are.

I’m also allergic- but not even close to severe- to other things I can shrug off.

I’ve also had a negative general allergy test. It’s where I found out my blood type.

But I’ve had my throat slowly close up as I took a specific anti depressant. I didn’t notice until my tongue had started swelling in my mouth, that I had more itchy skin than usual and I was having breathing issues. I got told I was a few days out from actual death.

For mental health. I have very weird applications of symptoms.

I can tell if someone is angry or not, I can have genuine conversations with someone and notice minute details.

I’m also traumatized and was forced into recognizing emotions.

But I don’t know when to stop a conversation. I don’t know when to interpret someone’s polite way of ending something. I don’t know the social etiquette to not embarrass people. I can be sociable, but I hate people and I never seek them out myself.

I’m not the model someone looks to for an AFAB with autism.

My trans status really pushed the diagnosis.

But I do have the symptoms, they’re just not presenting in ways that make people scream autism- more like scream freak.

And as a teen I never knew I had it. But I found people who related to me outside of a psychological textbook who explained my issues and gave tips that worked for once.

I was Fourteen before it clicked in my parents were abusing me. That it wasn’t normal to stop and listen to make sure those were their footsteps. If they were coming to my room. How heavy? Is that anger?

I’d explain normal life things and get people telling me it wasn’t normal and I needed to be away from it. That the behaviour was terrifying.

That if my parents were threatening to beat me black and blue, I should be trying to get out.

Trauma causes memory issues? How would I know that as a teen going to the police and not being able to say anything other than, “they threaten me when I brush my teeth”.

A terrified seventeen year old, describing how they were punished and the police couldn’t take them seriously, as they sobbed and begged to not go back.

In a week I had to return because there was no where else to go.

I couldn’t tell the police office my parents threatened my life that night.

I couldn’t remember why I was convinced by my friends online to run away.

My teachers got mad: “Did you think of your grades, you’re graduating this year”

Not even thinking about how I was suffering so much I got sent to the councillor- and then dumped- multiple times for suicidal ideation and the absolute terror I had in ever speaking of my issues.

It took meeting someone who was traumatized to learn I had panic attacks.

“Go take Your medication they give you for anxiety, you’re having a panic attack”

I’ve had them since I was a child and it took frantically talking in a chat room to figure it out.

I got half my diagnoses from the people around me before medically getting them. And that’s not a joke.

I had abnormally painful periods for my entire childhood, and it took a friend telling me it was probably bad I needed my mom’s painkillers for her back sometimes to even exist.

And do you know what, extremely painful periods is a sign for something really bad. And about 1/3 of afabs have that experience.

It’s considered normal. And yet it can lead to a deadly disease if you’re not careful.

A painful boob can be breast cancer.

A cough and fever could be COVID.

People relatively will explain their experiences in a way that people see is normal.

Making it Hard to actually convey how these experiences are normal for US but they’re not normal.

“Haha I Just found out reading a lot as a kid was a sign of PTSD” isn’t someone taking the piss abt PTSD, it’s a common experience due to escape fantasies. I know a lot of people, most who hate reading now, that explained how they’d read for hours as a child to get out of life, sometimes pretending to be something better.

And so in good conscience, I can’t say that post is great.

TDLR; The post that insinuates “x is a sign of y” comes off as ableist, as my lived experiences I know where this comes from.

Sometimes minor things can be a sign of something major and ignoring it doesn’t help.

Physical and Mental health are hard to convey, and most of the time someone doesn’t have the language or forethought to in depth describe their experiences.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 6

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: The Social Media Coup

Notes: Meant to put this on Tumblr days ago but yay depression.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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

Adrien was waiting for the dye to set when the girls returned, his hair securely under a shower cap. Apparently the stylist had decided to start by dying his entire head green, and the black would be applied to his roots afterward, with the logic of start with the light color, then apply the dark.

He’d never had his hair dyed, so he had just nodded. Luka hadn’t known if that was typical—apparently his normal hair color was black, and he just bleached and dyed the tips. It was amazing how much he was learning about his friends in just one evening.

The girls were carrying three large parcels, which they unpacked for them to take a look at. Several different styles of jeans—“We can return anything that doesn’t work,” Marinette said—a studded leather jacket, a hoodie that he just loved, and some jewelry.

“Chat Noir studs?” he asked incredulously. “They had those?”

Marinette nodded. “Kagami found them, and you mentioned Chat colors. We kind of changed that a little, but it seemed in keeping.”

Adrien grinned. “Thanks, girls. I really appreciate it.”

Kagami pulled out a large box. “There are also these boots. Marinette asked for my input on the choice, so I hope you find them to your liking.”

He stared after opening it, amazed to find what were basically stomping boots with huge buckles, reaching probably mid-calf.

“My father is going to have a heart attack,” he said after a moment, sounding not at all bothered by this. It was, after all, the point to freak the elder Agreste out. “You really went all-out! How much do I owe Jagged, Penny?”

Jagged was the one who responded. “Just some pics, I think. Hanging out like we’re jamming, yeah?”

That brought a bigger grin to Adrien’s face. If he had pictures, dressed in some of this and with his hair completely dyed, with Jagged Stone, it would be even more amazing. Not only for the sake of having those pictures, but for the reaction.

Luka brought it a bit further. “What about a video of the three of us jamming? Released to social media?”

Jagged and Penny exchanged a look, and she sighed. “Should I get a videographer?”

Marinette shook her head, a grin playing at her lips. “I think phones—we don’t want it to look set up. Just random. But we will need a keyboard for Adrien, and a guitar for Luka. And I know the perfect person to send it to first.”

All eyes turned to her.

“I babysit Nadja Chamack’s daughter, so I have her cell phone number.” Marinette’s voice was filled with glee.

Jagged grinned. “Bring out the big guns on this one.”

Penny nodded. “She may not be able to interview you without parental permission, but the video and news could make the rounds.”

“We’ll ruin my father’s announcement,” Adrien said with a laugh. “Serves him right.”

Kagami glanced at her phone. “We do not have a significant amount of time. Perhaps posting teasers on social media would be an apt way to start?”

“His hair isn’t finished yet,” Luka responded. “That will take perhaps another hour or so…”

Marinette nodded. “We can do other things. Adrien, you need to pick out a pair of jeans, and get dressed. We can get a shot of you and Luka cuddling, but without your heads in the shot. Start with a teaser to rile up social media.”

“We will want to drape the sofa with a sheet in order to hide the location. These sofas have a… distinctive color,” Penny added. “I have no doubt M. Agreste would recognize them, and then we would have difficulty.”

They got to work. Adrien chose a pair of the jeans that had silver decorative zippers randomly placed on the legs, moving to the bathroom to change out of his normal jeans.

As he did, something occurred to him. “Uh, Plagg?”

His kwami was nibbling on a bit of Camembert that had been in his jeans pocket. “Hm?”

“The hair… It’s not going to reveal my identity, right?”

Plagg laughed. “No way. I can change that without breaking a sweat. It’s worth it to see your dad’s face.”

Adrien relaxed—he’d been afraid he’d really screwed up. That was the last thing he wanted; Ladybug would kill him if he revealed his identity so stupidly.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t let you do anything that exposed your identity. But you’ll have to take off the studs before transforming—not sure if I could do much with those.”

When he left the bathroom, one section of the sofa was covered. Marinette eyed him critically before she nodded, muttering about fitting.

“You might need help with these boots,” Luka commented, holding one up.

“Definitely welcome. Do those lace, too?”

Kagami answered. “Yes. The buckles appear to be primarily decorative. Marinette was torn between these and a pair with three buckles and chains above and below. However, that seemed unnecessarily complicated.”

Adrien blanched at the idea. “Yeah, definitely.”

Luka helped him get the boots on, while Marinette snapped a leather bracelet on his right wrist. Kagami slid the green beaded one after that. Once the boots were securely buckled, he started to grab the box with the studs before realizing they wouldn’t show in the picture and could get ruined with the dye.

“Do you want to wear the leather jacket, or the hoodie?” Marinette asked.

While the leather jacket was tempting, Adrien didn’t think it was right for this. “I think the hoodie is more casual, and it’ll look better.”

“I agree,” Kagami said. “It will match with Luka, and add the appearance of being a couple further through the parallel dress.”

Marinette handed it to him, and then she and Luka fiddled with the sleeves so his bracelets would show.

Finally, they were ready, and Adrien and Luka sat on the couch. Not that Adrien knew what to do beyond that.

At Marinette’s urging, they slid closer together. After a few minutes of rearranging, Luka’s leg wound up bent behind Adrien, with him snuggled against the older boy’s opposite shoulder—he was careful that the shower cap didn’t slide up and cover them both with dye. Kagami rearranged one of his legs to be a shadow of Luka’s. It was a bit of an intimate position, but not too much; just enough to imply.

Then they played with arm positions, trying several options before deciding on one of Luka’s arms around him, and the other propped on Adrien’s bent knee.

“Adrien, lace your fingers with Luka’s hand, the one at your waist,” Penny interjected.

Adrien followed her instructions, hoping this looked natural. He was used to modeling, but had never done a shoot like this before—and Luka wasn’t a model, so hopefully it wasn’t making him uncomfortable.

Finally Marinette nodded and smiled. “Now just relax your muscles. Enjoy cuddling with your boyfriend. Both of you.”

“I feel like a mannequin,” Luka muttered, and Adrien couldn’t stop himself from laughing, easing against him helplessly. Luka’s fingers squeezed his slightly before easing, and the older boy pulled him a bit closer.

He barely registered the flashes from the girls’ cell phone cameras as they moved to different angles, catching multiple possibilities, even standing on different parts of the couch or the table.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and they hurried to hide in the kitchenette area. It was the hairdresser and some hotel staff carrying a specialty sink for washing the dye out, the time already come. He took off the hoodie so it wouldn’t stain.

While the stylist washed the dye out and applied the black, the others crowded around the two cell phones to decide the best picture, murmuring amongst themselves. Eventually they had a photo cropped and filtered.

When they showed it to Adrien, he was amazed they were able to get it to look so good with just a quick set-up. It showed his smile and Luka’s, but nothing above that, and the position looked natural. They looked happy, close. Just like it was a candid shot. He loved the way Luka’s painted nails offset his unpainted ones, their rings resting together in their interlaced hands. He wanted to get his nails done, too. Why not go all the way?

Marinette was born to do fashion, clearly, if she could put together a shoot like this in minutes.

One the stylist finished, Adrien used the computer to upload it to Instagram. It took a while to consider what message to include with it, but he settled on, “Someone very special in my life. Been keeping it quiet, but decided to go public finally. ♥”

He quickly shared it to all his official social media.

“Anyone want to bet on how long it takes my father to call?” he joked.

As it turned out, it took barely ten minutes, and Adrien’s phone was blowing up with social media notifications within the first minute. He rejected the call, and all the subsequent ones, and ignored the text messages. Especially the ones from Lila.

“You may want to turn off your phone so he is unable to track you,” Kagami commented.

The cacophony stopped once he followed her advice.

Luka smiled when his own phone pinged. “Juleka figured it out. She wants to know how long we’ve been dating.”

Marinette laughed, pulling out her sketchbook again. “Okay, on to the next phase. Details. How long, how many dates—and probably when you were supposed to be doing other stuff, Adrien, but Kagami and I can cover some of that. Maybe we can say we knew and helped you two spend time together?”

Then she got a wicked grin. “And you need to figure out pet names for each other, maybe?”

Adrien and Luka exchanged a look.

“I’m guessing Magic Fingers is inappropriate?” Luka drawled.

It took a while for them to stop laughing.

[jenni42085]

Love in the Time of Corona <One>

One.

“So Scott, got a question for you, well, maybe your brother.”

“Honey, what’s wrong you look stressed.”

Colton sighs as he rolls over to look closer at his boyfriend Scott Evans. “I know we are on lockdown but. . . “

“But what?”

“I don’t know if I can stay here with you at your brother’s when my sister is alone at her apartment.”

Scott relaxes and runs his hand through his boyfriend’s curly dark brown hair. “You know we can ask Chris to come let her stay with us.”

“Do you think he would be ok with it?”

“If she’s family and she’s alone. I don’t see why not.” Scott stands and walks to the side of Colton’s bed pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go ask him now since I think you’ll keep tossing and turning if you don’t.” he says as he gives his boyfriend a hug and kiss.

*knock knock knock*

“Come in.” Chris sits up in bed waiting for his brother to come in. “What’s up?”

“Well I, well we have a HUGE favor to ask.”

Colton cuts off Scott while coming in behind him. “Feel free to say no. If it’s too much I understand but. . .” He takes a deep breath. 

“So first off thanks for letting me stay with you and Scott but, my sister is quarantining alone and her birthday is in a few weeks and I’d rather her not be alone. So . . . “

“So you were wondering is she could stay here?” Chris asks letting his right eyebrow arch.

Colton’s eyes became large as two saucers when he was cut off but Chris. “Yeah. If it’s too much it’s fine I understand completely.”

Chris adjusts more in bed and thinks for a minute and figures the more the merrier. Plus it’s her birthday is coming up soon. It’ll suck being stuck in a house anyways but all by yourself would be worse. “Nah, it’s fine. Tell her to come on. Does she cook or anything?”

“Oh yeah she cooks and she cleans.” Colton says, “She makes amazing fried chicken but her pepperoni rolls are life.”

Chris and Scott both look at him curiously and reply in unison “Pepperoni rolls?”

“Yeah pepperoni rolls. Don’t worry I’ll call her before bed and tell her. I haven’t mentioned anything to her so it’ll be a good surprise. Thanks so much.” Colton says as he goes back to the bedroom he shares with Scott.

*Ring.  Ring.  Ring.*

“Hello?” Nico groggily answer her phone.

“Hey sis, did I wake you?” Colton replies.

A deep sigh comes out of Nico, she was in the progress of falling asleep in front of television yet again. “No, just laying here. What’s up?  Are you ok?” he replies.

“Yeah, just worrying about you. So, do you want me to come quarantine with you?” He asks trying to test out the waters.  He knows she is stubborn true to her Taurus sign so he has to ease her into it.

Nico adjusts her pillows then lays back in bed again. “Honestly, it would be great if you were here but I know you are with your new boyfriend Scott, so I don’t want to sound selfish and make you leave him.”

“Well, what if there is another way for us to be together.” He replies smiling after hearing her response. Always so giving, even if it hurts her.

“How’s that going to happen? I don’t even know where you are at.” She replies slowly shaking her head.

Colton takes a small breath, “ We are with his brother in the outskirts of Boston. He’s got a big house and yard, AND I asked if you could stay and as long as you help out with cooking and stuff you can come stay!”

“Colton . . . “

“Hear me out sis. It’s either this or I’ll have someone else come stay with you. And I don’t mean friends. Maybe mom and dad or one of the other sisters and their families.”

Hearing that threat makes Nico shoot up from bed instantly feeling stressed, “Why would you say that? Of all things! Why?”

“Because I’m your big brother and I worry about you and your mental health. So how about you load your car up with a month full of clothes and whatever else you need. I’ll have some extra groceries sent to us so you can make some of those delish pepperoni rolls.”

Nico’s head falls to the side. “Are you sure you actually miss me, or are you just craving pepperoni rolls?”

Colton chuckles at little bit at his sister, “Nah, I miss you but pepperoni rolls are like an added bonus.”

A deep sigh leaves her, “Fine. “I’ll pack up tonight and leave in the morning I guess.”

“Awesome! Can’t wait to see you, it’s like a 4 hour drive from New York so it’s not too bad. I’ll text you the addy. I’m going to bed and you should too since, you have some driving to do.”

“Yes yes, I’ll go to sleep after packing my stuff up. Nighty nighty Colton.”

“Night Nico.” He replies as he hangs up.

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

When Colton left to call his sister, Scott and Chris talk for a few more minutes, “So what do you know about his sister?”

“She’s a cosplayer and runs a party planning business. She’s the middle child out of the five of them, lives in New York.”

“Do you have any pictures or anything of her?” Chris asks wondering if inviting her is a good idea since Scott just mentioned her being a cosplayer. He wonders if she would be a fan girl or something making the quarantine lockdown a little awkward and miserable.

Scott looks at his brother perplexed, “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, not really. But if she’s a cosplayer, is she a fan girl?”

“No idea to be honest. He talks about her the most but, didn’t mention her celebrity crushes. I’m sure she has met a few celebrities at conventions and knows how to act. Mainly, I know she’s a great cook. She’s sent him some cookies and cakes not to long ago and they were amazing.”

Chris nods his head in understanding but still curious. “Do you at least know her name?”

“Nico.” He replies with a happy face.

“Nico? What kind of name is that?”

Scoot sighs and rolls his eyes, “It’s short for Nicolette. The few times we’ve chatted on the phone she seemed really sweet. But don’t call her Nicolette. She’ll correct you.” Scott states and chuckles. “It's honestly like a curse word to her.”

“OK then, I’ll call her Nico.” He says with a small smile. “You do realize I’m going to Facebook stalk her.”

“Ohh I figured as much.” Scott shrugs as he leaves the room. “Thanks brother. I think he was really worried since the others have spouses and they usually do everything together. Plus he knows how her anxiety and depression gets a little crazy at times.”

“How crazy?” Chris asks as he stops typing her name on Facebook, “anything life threaten?”

“Ohh no no no, never anything like that at least I don't think so. But if you see her cleaning and organizing stuff, she is probably having some racing thoughts. Sometimes she can’t sleep or a few times she has called Colton in the midst of a panic attack and he has to talk her through things and breathing exercises. Apparently they get so bad it feels like a heart attack.”

Chris nods his head in understanding because he knows how this panic attacks feel. He’s gotten better at getting himself in the right head space but he can definitely sympathize with her. After typing in New York in location in Facebook he was able to pull up her page. “Gotcha, well I’m going to look around on her page. Good night.”

Scott picks up on his body language and leaves, “good night.”

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

Chris looks at Nico’s Facebook page, while most of it is under private which he likes there are a few pictures of her. She looks honestly beautiful. Her most current picture is of her dressed up as Pikachu with a few other girls as other Pokemon. Even though she isn’t center stage, his eyes automatically goes to her. He can’t tell how tall she is but, she is about average build with large brown eyes, her skin is a little lighter than her brother’s almost like a burnt caramel complexion, and a big curly head of black hair with purple tips.

The other profile pictures that were there shows a few other of her cosplays of a Hufflepuff student from Hogwarts, the Powerpuff girls where she was Buttercup, and the last one took him by surprise. A few years ago she was dressed as a female Captain America with another girl who has been in a few other pictures of hers as the Winter Soldier.

She nails the look of Captain America with the colors and the stripes and stars but the girlie feel for it. To be honest she looks hot with the corset and the tutu bottom and knee high blue boots. Her hair was still curly but hair of It pinned back with a few large silver stars. When she smiles her eyes light up making her star lip ring show most prominently.

Out of curiosity and boredom he looks at the Winter Solider girl’s profile to see if there were any other pictures of Nico. Fortunately, her page was public and he could see some other pictures of her. The sweetest picture was a shout to Nico being an amazing friend and godmother to her kids. She was laying on the couch with a small toddler in her lap asleep the caption read, “the sweetest and best godmother.”

With what he could see of her, she seems like a really sweet girl. And beautiful to boot. Hopefully she’ll be all that and more when she comes. He reclines a little more in bed and slowly starts to fall asleep.

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

Scott closes the door to his shared bedroom with Colton, “I think my brother will be shocked meeting Nico.”

Colton hits send on his message to Nico then looks up from his phone, “Shocked? Why?”

“Well because, she might be something he needs in life. He was Facebook stalking her and didn’t look to upset about her.” He says as he crawls back into bed with him.

“Oh wow. Has he ever been with a black girl?” He looks at Scott as his raised eye brow finally returns back to its normal position. “Because I’ll be honest she's only ever dated white guys  so it’s no problem for her. But I don’t want his end game to get in her pants.  No pun intended.  But she is my little.”

“As far as I know, he has never dated a black girl but it’s not out of the realm of possibly. He’s open minded but he’s not just trying to have sex with her. He’s ready to settle down.”

“I guess that is good. But we shall see tomorrow how they interact.”

Scott nods his head in agreement, “Did you tell her who my brother was?”

Colton runs his head through he hair, “No I did not because . . .”

“Because why?”

“Well because I don’t want her up all night overthinking or her changing her mind and staying home. Plus, I want her to be shocked. I like seeing her shocked. It’s funny.”

“Gotcha, I love you Colton.”

“I love you too Scottie. Now let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

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

After getting off the phone with her brother Nico goes to her closet and pulls out her two biggest suitcases, sighing she starts to pack to stay with people she doesn’t really know for a month or so. While she’s not really thrilled with going outside of her comfort zone but she knows she can see and hang out with her brother, so there is some comfort and security in that.

Moving to New York has been the best and worse thing she has ever done. She enjoyed being away from small town life but sometimes she missed not knowing really anyone here minus her close friends and coworkers. 

Thankfully, her brother did make frequent visits but after he got with Scott it was less frequent. She wasn’t jealous or anything just wishing to see him more with or without Scott.

Sighing once again, she starts packing leggings, tank tops, and other clothes. She knows she won’t be going anywhere so she doesn’t feel the urge to pack anything to fancy. Thinking harder on what to pack, she goes ahead and packs some crafts, her MacBook, and her Nintendo switch.

Looking at the clock she realizes it’s almost midnight and she’s not even tired. Since there were no places open for her to go she takes her wet curly hair out of her messy bun and decides to blow dry it straight then flat iron it. It’s been a while since she’s straighten her hair but figures that it’s better now then never. After an hour she is finished straighten it and does a quick trim on it then braids it and puts on her bonnet and falls asleep.

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

The sun shines into Nico’s room slowly waking her up. She stretches and gets a hot shower then packs up all of toiletries. She opts to wear a black pair of leggings and a cami along with an oversized mustard yellow sweater that compliments her skin. She brushes her now straight hair again and rebraids it into a side ponytail.

Finally after a few hours she was able to finish packing different odds and ins that she might need or want, emailing and calling a few coworkers to let her know she was going to be out of town but still be available for conference calls. She notified her neighbors so they could keep an eye on her place. After putting the address into her map app, she lets her Driving Mix on Apple Music and hits the road.

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

Chris walks into the yet to be occupied bedroom to make sure everything looked good for her arrival. Even though he slept good last night, he would be lying if he didn’t dream about Nico. He was excited for her arrival. Not because she was beautiful but, for a new person for to have there and someone who actually cooks from scratch, plus she would not make him the third wheel with Scott and Colton.

It had only been a week but he was already getting burnt out on take out and fast food already. He didn’t want to bug his mom with her making food for not only him but Scott and Colton even though he knows she wouldn’t mind. But seeing as older people are more at risk, he would rather her just keep interactions to FaceTime.

“So, when’s your sister getting here?” He asks casually as he walks into the kitchen. Colton and Scott are sitting at the island drinking coffee.

Colton looks at the clock and counts, “She should be here in about 30 minutes or so. Keep an eye out for a silver Subaru Outback with hello kitty on it.”

“Wow, ok then.” Scott says, “I’m surer that doesn’t stick out at all.”  The three chuckle at the description of her car. 

“So, is she excited to come here?” Chris asks.

“Honestly not too sure. She was a little apprehensive, but after I threaten to tell the rest of family she was glad to pack up her car and make the drive.” Colton replies with a smirk.

“You had to threaten her?’ Chris laughs. 

“Wow, I thought I was bad but I can see you know how to twist her arm. So, I’m just going to be nosey.”

“Shoot. Be nosey. I don’t mind.” Colton says as he takes another sip of coffee.

“Why did she not want to be with other family members?”

Colton makes a small smile, “Don’t get me wrong, we love our parents and sisters BUT they are all married and have kids and we don’t. We have kind of have always been the black sheep of the family. Nico and I haven’t always gone down the beaten path of our family. I’m gay and she’s a blerdy girl.”

Chris’ head cocks to the side, “Blerdy girl?”

“A black nerd. Geez, Chris get hip with the slang.” Scott says while rolling his eyes.

“Exactly. It was kind of hard for us growing up with family being very straight lace while, I was out and proud since I was 17 and she finally accepted the fact that she would never have a stuffy office job that would make her hate her life. She’s great though. Her love of rainbows, unicorns, Hello Kitty among other things helped her to forget our family kinds of forgets that it’s ok to be different.” Colton looks at the clock and realizes she should be here any moment.

“I have to admit, I looked at her Facebook page. What I could see of it she looks pretty awesome. I just kind of hope she doesn’t completely freak when she sees me.” Chris says while smiling.

“Nah, she should be ok. She’s met a few people from the Avenger movies so she should be ok.”

“Really ?” Chris asks as he stands up to stretch. “Who has she met?”

“She met Chris Hemsworth and said that he was really nice and funny. I think I have a picture of her with him I think.” Colton answers as he scrolls through pictures on his phone. “Here I’ll send it to you. Ask him if he remembers her.”

Scott looks at his boyfriend like he is a little crazy. “I doubt he is going to remember her out of all the fans he has met.”

“Hey now, you never know. My sister has a way that people never forget her.”

Chris looks at his and saves the picture of Nico and Hemsworth. He decides what the hell and send it to the group chat he has with him, Sebastian, Anthony, Jeremy, and RDJ. “He might remember her, it was from a few months ago.”

The room gets quiet when they hear a car pull up the drive way. Dodger starts barking at the sound of someone new. Sure enough the three walk outside to a silver Subaru being put in park. Colton walks over to the drivers side to greet his sister.

“There she is! My little sister.” Colton says in an excited tone.

“Colton!” Nico replies as she gets out the car to give her brother a hug. She’s considerably shorter than her 6’4 tall brother. As he hugs her, he picks her up and spins her as her legs dangle. “I’ve missed your face brother bear.”

“I’ve missed you too! You look cute and comfy. Is that the sweater I got you for Christmas?”

“Of course, it’s like the most comfortable sweater I own and it works well with leggings.” She replies as she does a spin. “So where is this new man of yours?  I get to finally meet him and not just talking on the phone!”

Scott pipes in excitedly from behind the pair. “I’m right here! Hi I’m Scott it’s good to finally meet you in person. He’s told me a lot about you.” He extends his arms and give her a hug. “Sorry, I don’t know if you are a hugger but I am.  Even with all this going on, I like a good hug.”

“No, it’s fine. I haven’t touched anything outside of my apartment minus me lysoling my car so I’m clean. And no point of social distancing if we might be here for the next month or so.” She pulls away and looks at him again to figure out where she has seen him. “You look like someone I’ve seen before. I know my brother says you are an actor but I still can’t place your face.”

“It’ll hit you don’t worry. Ohh and here is my brother Chris.” Scott replies with a wink.

Chris slowly approaches the three of them waiting for Nico to either faint or fangirl. “Hello Nico, I’m Chis.”

Nico’s large brown eyes became even bigger as she realizes that Chris wasn’t just Chris but Chis freaking Evans and Scott was Scott Evans. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. “Oh wow, Chris Evans. Nice to meet you.” She sticks out her hand and gets pulled in for a a big bear hug from Chris. When he pulls away her cheeks were a little red.

“Sorry, just figured since you gave everyone else a hug I’d get one also.” He replies sheepishly as he pulls away.

“No worries, just wasn’t expecting to meet you. And . . . yeah.” She replies still blushing.

While the two were having this awkwardly cute interaction Scott pokes Colton in his side and mouths “See!” Colton shakes his head and looks at the pair and can kind of see it.

“So, if you two are done with the awkward meeting how about we get you and your stuff inside.” Colton says as he walks past Chris and Nico and opens her trunk and back door. “Did you pack enough stuff?”

Nico’s head tilts to the side and gives her brother a dirty look, “Hey now!  It's honestly not a lot of thing, PLUS I’m sure you packed WAY more than me.”

“That he did.” Scott states with humor in his voice. “Also you need extra stuff because you really had no idea of where you were going and what we already had.”

“Exactly!” Nico squeals as she puts an arm around Scott, “I think I like you already.”

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

After one trip they successfully all of Nico’s things in her guest room. Walking into the house Dodger greets Nico by jumping up on her a few times. Chris tried to pull the dog away from her but she wasn’t even upset she welcomed the dog’s affection. He was kind of surprised that Dodger took to her so quickly but it was cute.

While she was unpacking in getting settled, Dodger sat outside of door watching happily and wagging her tail. Every once in a while he would come in for a few pats then goes back to watching her unpack.

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

Chris goes to his room to relax for a few minutes and looks at his phone to see a few messages from the guys:

RDJ: So who is this girl with Hemsworth exactly? She’s adorably pint sized.

Hemsworth: Ohh! I remember her. She was from a convention a few months ago. The girls loved her Eevee cosplay.

Sebastian: She’s cute. Why do you have a picture of Hemsworth with a random girl?

Chris: That’s Nicolette, Scott’s boyfriend’s sister. She is joining us for the quarantine. What do you guys think of her?

Hemsworth: What I can remember of her, she’s very sweet and has a few Avenger tattoos. If I can remember correctly her right upper arm has the symbols lined up with the Black Panther one included.

RDJ: That’s really specific.

Chris: Agreed. How do you know this?

Hemsworth: Well if you look at the outfit she has on it was strapless and her friend pointed it out. Her friend was fangirling a bunch but she was just so chill and a little shy.

Sebastian: Is she single? If so, your quarantine time might be a lot more fun. 🍆🍆

Chris: LOL. I honestly have no idea. I’d imagine single because she is staying with us but you never know. She is beautiful. Much more in person than the pictures. I did hug her and it was nice.

RDJ: Watch out hugging her. You really do sound like Cap right now. I think he really has rubbed off on you.

Chris: Dude! I just met her and in front of her brother no less couldn’t be grabby.  You know that's not how I roll.

Jeremy:  Yeah you very well couldn't dick her down in front of everyone.  lol. 

Anthony: Sorry guys late to the party once again. I remember seeing her at another convention. She was Pikachu and it wasn’t revealing but still sexy.

Hemsworth: Agreed a subtle sexy. I’d say that is your kind of girl.

Anthony: Most definitely. She might be the girl next door with a wild side.

Chris: I don’t know about all that but she is currently unpacking in the guest room and Dodger won’t leave her side.

Sebastian: Dogs always know the good ones.  Might want to continue making a good impression on her.

Jeremy:  Did you find out her favorite avenger yet?

Chris:  No.  Should I?

RDJ: Ummm yes up your chance to see if she likes you.

On that note, Chris closes out the texts and sees how she is doing.

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

*knock knock*

“Come in.” Nico says as she is putting her last stack of clothes in the drawer. She was expecting to see her brother but saw Chris instead. Her eyes got slightly larger but her face stayed neutral. “Oh hey!”

“Hey, so hows the unpacking going.” He asks while leaning against the doorway taking in her form better now that she has taken off the oversized sweater and is now in a tank top with her black leggings and pastel hulk no show socks.

She surveys her open suitcases one more time, ”Actually I think I’m done. I didn’t overpack because I didn’t see myself going out anywhere so it was just lounge clothes mainly.”

“Yeah, don’t blame you. It’s crazy how quickly it all escalated. You know?”

“I couldn’t agreed with you more. One moment I’m going into the office. Next I’m working from home and then I’m here, thankfully I'm still getting paid but I can at least work on future events that I've been putting off.” Her facial expression looks unreadable so Chris walks in closet just to make sure she is ok. His movements caught her attention and she gave him a small smile with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It’s ok though. I’m alive and I have a job. Just stresses me out a little bit.”

“Understandable. How’s the anxiety?” Chris asks gently.

She turns fully to him and gives him a half smile. “Surprisingly, that’s been pretty okay considering. I’ve only had a small panic attack but nothing major.”

He shakes his head in agreement. “I’ve been making sure friends and family are safe. It went from nothing to something big.  But I just hope people don't forget to do mental health check ups to make sure they can survive this.”

Dodger comes up and puts his nose under her hand because he wanted so affection so Nico reaches down and scratches him behind the ears. “I bet having him around helps. They know when their owner feels stressed.”

“Yeah, he sure does. So, are you hungry or anything?”

“Not yet. I had some oatmeal before I left.”

He nods his head not really sure of what else to say because he wants to know more about her,” Would you like a tour of my humble abode?”

“Sure! That sounds great.” She replies. He puts his arm out and she links it with his as he shows her around the house and the outside.

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

After Nico finishes her tour with Chris, she goes to the living room and sits down on the tan ultra plush couch with her legs under her. Since being here Dodger has followed her around like a baby duck. Once she gets comfy he places his head on her leg and cuddles closer to her. Even though she slept last night she was kind of anxious to get on the road and get resettled.

Looking at her phone she sees that is almost 5 and the sun was slowly setting as much as she knows it’s way to late for a nap she gets cozy with Dodger and drifts into dreamland.

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

Chris was done with working on his few projects for his website and wanted to check in with everyone. Scott and Clinton were in their room about to come out. “Hey guys, any thoughts for dinner tonight ?”

“Nothing really. We could see if my sister wants to cook something for us.” Colton replied as he walks towards the door.

“Where is she anyway? I know she unpacked and looked around with Chris but haven’t seen her since.” Scott asks. He couldn’t help but bring up that Nico and Chris were together just so Colton would acknowledge the fact that Chris night have some interest.

“Hard to say. She wanders off a lot. . . Especially if she is drunk. Go check her room.”

Chris pipes in, “Nah she want there I already checked."  His statement makes Colton look at him but doesn't say anything.

The three walk into the living room/ kitchen area and see a sleeping Nico on the couch with Dodger curled up to her for warmth. Chris being worries that she might be cold since she was curled up almost in a ball so he gets his favorite blanket off the other side of the couch and covers her with it. Once the warmth is around her, she snuggles closer under it with Dodger.

“So . . . Should we wake her?” Scott asks as he sees her body rise and fall in a deep sleep.

“Nah, it’s best to just leave her there for maybe another 45 mins to an hour.” Colton says as he walks back to the kitchen to figure out what their dinner plans will be. “But you don’t want her up all night making noise.” He laughs at his own statement, “she’s done it before a few times. Growing up she would nap during the day then 2 o’clock in the morning she would be up doing art or her hair or just something.”

Chris nods his head with a chuckle running his hand through his hair. “Noted.”

Colton pulls out a bag of chicken nuggets and French fries then places them on a baking sheet and seasons them while the oven was preheating. He sees the way Chris is admiring his sister and feels unsure of it all. He wants the best for his sister and has always been leery of any man who wants to be with her but, a celebrity has never been interested in her and wants her to be happy and safe.

“Ni Ni, wake up.”

“Five more minutes, I’ve only been asleep for like 20 minutes.” Nico says sleepily.

“You mean more like 2 hours or more.” Scott says as he helps Colton pull the blanket off of her.

Her body goes from stretched out into a small ball as soon as the cool air hits her skin. Slowly she shifts and sits up to stretch remembering where she is. “Sorry guys, didn’t mean to be asleep that long I was going to make dinner.”

“It’s fine your brother has it right Colton?” Chris says as he lets Dodger out.

“Yeah. Yeah, Baby sis already slacking. I swear.” Colton replies with a chuckle as he shakes his head.

Nico rolls her eyes and walks over to her brother giving him a hug. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry I’ll make pepperoni rolls for us tomorrow and that will fix it all.”

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

After a tasty dinner, the group watched a few BuzzFeed Unsolved: True Crime episodes then at around 10 they all said their good nights and went to bed for the night. Nico laid down and played some online games but honestly, she just wasn’t tired. She finally laid down and closed her eyes but then tossed and turned for a while.

11:45 the clock blared at her, after realizing that she wasn’t going to sleep, Nico pulls on some gray cotton shorts, readjusts her tank top, brushes her hair,  and throws it into a high messy bun. Thankfully, her brother had kept the promise of getting extra ingredients sent to the house so she decided since she couldn’t sleep she would make his pepperoni rolls.

Nico finally figured out where everything was located in the massive kitchen and started mixing the dough. The wooden spoon wasn’t really mixing it like she liked but, didn’t want to pull out the mixer because that would more then likely wake the whole house. So after a few more stirs with the wooden spoon she pulls out the spoon and washes her hands again really good with soap and water then starts mixing it with her hands.

She got tired of the silence of just her breathing and decided to have Sir pull up one of her mix playlist to keep her company. Even though she was cooking, she decides to load her Shower Time Mix on Apple Music. Good Thing by Kehlani & Zedd fills the kitchen and she is swaying and humming. Baking and music were part of her happy place and helped to soothe her nerves. Lost in the music and mixing the bread she didn’t hear or sense anyone watching her.

Chris had tried to sleep but couldn’t so he laid there for a little bit until he heard faint music and decided to go see what was going on. He notices the door to Nico's room was open and figured she was in the kitchen.  She was there with her back to him swaying to the music . After a few minutes of watching her short frame saying he decides to see what she could possibly be doing at almost 12 at night.

“So, should I be concerned that you are in my kitchen at almost 12 at night and it has been pulled apart and your hands are covered in dough?” He asks as he comes into the kitchen. Humor laces his voice which causes her body to jump and she slowly turns around her eyes were like a deer caught in headlights.

“Chris, oh hey!” She replies as she scrunches her nose and pulls her hands out of the now blended dough. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to start working on the pepperoni rolls.”

“Ohhh ok.” He replies as looks into the bowl. “Is that going to make enough dough?”

“It has to rise silly. I measured out enough to make about 24 rolls.” Nico replies as she washes her hands again then moves the dough into a greased bowl and then covers with plastic wrap and a dish towel.

He nods his head and crosses his arms across his chest. “It’s a little late to be doing all of this  you know?”

“Maybe just a little bit but I couldn’t sleep and then you guys can have it for lunch tomorrow.”

“Point taken. He’s been talking about you and the pepperoni rolls kind of nonstop. I’ve never heard of them or had one.”

Nico doesn’t look too shocked but places her hand on her chest, “Well, you are totally in for a treat. They are soo yummy and filling. This is actually the recipe of the school kind so it’s authentic.”

“Noted. So would you like some company while the dough is rising?”

“I mean if you want to hang out with me in YOUR house, I wouldn’t mind. Some days it gets boring being alone.”  She replies lightly. 

He smiles at her answer while uncrossing his arms and takes in her beauty while she starts cleaning up the kitchen while the dough rises. “Minus the few things your brother has told me, what else should I know about you?”

She stops and looks at him curiously making her colorful unicorn glass fall down her little nose. Cutely and probably unconsciously she wiggles her nose to push the glasses back up. “Not really sure what all you are wanting to know about me. Honestly, I’m not that exciting.”

“Sure you are! You are a late night baker!” He states with humor laced in his voice making her chuckle.

Soon the kitchen was cleaned up while the oven was pre-heating to help make the dough rise quicker, she joins him on the couch. “Point taken. I’m a nerdy black girl. Currently, I work as a party planner so since the world is on lockdown, I’m just on break. It helps to relax me and help give me more ideas for planning and for cosplay ideas.”

Chris looks at her as she slouches on the couch, the action caused the back of her shirt to ride up her back. “Don’t blame you, I needed a small break and this is so helpful.”