#she whined about some ointment so much that my parents just stopped making her take it

[ocpdzim]

i think everyone should stop calling characters “a child in an adult’s body” or variations thereof (unless of course you are referring to like, a freaky friday sort of situation in which the character is literally a child in an adult’s body) and instead consider the long history of that kind of terminology being used to infantilize disabled and neurodivergent people and take away their human rights. i most often say people make that kind of statement about clearly autistic coded characters but even just like, in general, you shouldn’t do that. a nd and/or disabled adult is not a child in an adult’s body, not ever, they’re always an adult and that’s it. 

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Swiss Ghoul (Ghost) 18+

I realized a while ago that I always shoulder shimmy whenever I hear a song with a particularly good beat (usually Hispanic music lol), so it was about time I wrote something about Multi.

Warning: The reader has night terrors. I don’t have night terrors myself, so I apologize if I portray it incorrectly! +SMUT.

Edit: I’m adding smut at the end of this...don’t know why. This would be the first time writing something so explicit. So, 18+ 18+ 18+!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Every night, you’d get these horrible night terrors.

It started when you were a young, after your parents died. You’d always cry or scream in your sleep. You went to the church’s Priestess for help, but she told you that there was nothing she could do. You prayed to your lord every night, hoping that he could take away your suffering. He never answered.

Eventually, almost a week of screaming every night, it was decided to move your room to the most secluded part of the abbey. You didn’t blame them. You were sure you’d get tired of listening to your screams every night too.

You knew everyone felt sorry for you, but you didn’t need their pity. You just wanted one good nights sleep...was that too much to ask?

In your room, no human could hear your screams. No human. But unfortunately, the Ghouls could. Curse their super hearing...

The Ghouls didn’t have to tell you that they could hear you, you could tell by the way they looked at you with pitiful stares every time you’d pass them in the halls in the mornings. You felt so embarrassed... 

The worst part for you was everyone in the abbey treating you like you were made of glass. You had lived with night terrors for so long now that you knew how to make sure that you didn’t get hurt. You did not need their help with that.

After one practically awful incident, you grew more and more careful of how you slept. It was when you were living in foster care, about a year after your parents died. You had already dealt with the night terrors, but that night, you got hurt. You don’t usually remember what happens when you have these episodes, but your foster parents told you that you flailing around so hard that you fell off your bed, hitting your head on the bedside table in the process.

You had to deal with the risk of getting concussions after that, and ever since you’d make sure to wherever you slept was basically safe enough for a child.

After becoming a Sister of Sin, the night terrors mellowed out for a while, but it didn’t last.

You sighed, pushing your fork around, some scrambled eggs and a sausage being the only thing left on your plate. You looked around the mess hall, it was pretty empty. You were usually one of the first ones to arrive for breakfast since you rarely got your full eight hours.

Even if the night terrors were detrimental to your sleep, you were still thankful you didn’t remember them. But ever since you got hurt, you’ll admit, you’ve been afraid of sleeping. Nowadays, you get about four or five hours every night at the most.

You suddenly think back to a psychology class where your teacher said that lack of sleep can cause early deaths and heart attacks...oh well.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Swiss’ voice called out, making you drop your silverware in shock.

“Morning.” You sighed and yawned.

“Sleep well?” He asked, making you glare at him. He grinned nervously, knowing full well of your predicament. “Bad joke? Sorry...”

Being annoyed, you still chuckle. “It’s alright.”

“Gonna eat that?” He asked, pointing at your neglected eggs and sausage.

You smiled weakly, and pushed the plate over to Swiss. “Knock yourself out.”

Swiss licked his lips in anticipation, a puddle of drool already pooling on the table. He grabbed your previously held fork and stabbed it into the greasy piece of meat. He lifted up the impaled sausage and brought it to his mouth, only to bite the bitter metal of the fork.

Swiss whined and looked around for the culprit of his stolen breakfast, only to see Dewdrop already scoffing it down. “Hey! That was mine!” Swiss fussed.

Dewdrop grinned and sucked off the leftover grease that coated his fingers. “You don’t eat sausage with a fuckin’ fork. You were basically asking for it to be stolen.”

“Civilized Ghouls use their manners!” Swiss growled.

“Swiss, when has Dewy ever been civilized?” You chuckled, making Dewdrop narrow his eyes at you.

“I told you not to call me that, brat.” He growled.

“Ha! You’re calling me a brat?!” You laughed loudly.

“You wanna meet your maker early?!” Dewdrop shouted.

“Ugh, children. Stop fighting!” Aether said suddenly, sitting down beside you, opposite of Swiss, making you feel quite protected from Dew’s empty threats.

“She started it!” Dewdrop pointed a sharp claw at you.

“If you wanna get technical, it actually Swiss that started it.”

“What?!” Swiss squeaked.

Dewdrop suddenly grinned evilly. “You know what, you’re absolutely right.” He said, Swiss immediately begging for his life before Dewdrop tackled him to the floor.

You and the rest of the Ghouls watched in amusement as Dewdrop and Swiss wrestled each other on the floor, Aether enjoyed his breakfast while watching the show.

“Hey! Hey!” 

You all looked to see Sister Imperator storming towards the group, a spray bottle in hand. She quickly sprayed a still fighting Dew and Swiss with water, forcing them to break apart.

“You Ghouls are supposed to be at practice soon! Copia is gonna waiting!”

The Ghouls suddenly remember that they had to go on tour soon, frowning when they had to leave you alone. But shooed them off anyway, you didn’t want to be the cause of their possible punishments for blowing off work.

“We’ll hang out later, okay?” Swiss smiled at you, showing his pearly white teeth, water still dripping off his silver mask.

You nodded and smiled, but frowned as soon as his back turned and headed off to the studio where they usually practiced. “Y/N,” Sister Imperator said, “can I talk to you?”

You held your breath for a moment, nervous about the grim look on her face, but you answered anyway. “Yes, of course, Sister.”

Sister took a seat where Aether previously sat, and put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Your terrors haven’t stopped.” She stated.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “H-how...?”

“The Ghouls.” She answered. “They haven’t been getting much sleep lately. The band is suffering because of this. They just can’t focus on their music due to lack of sleep.”

You looked down embarrassed. “Sister...I’m-”

“I know it’s not your fault, dear. But...” She sighed. “It needs to stop or else they won’t be tour ready.”

Your heart almost stopped. “...are you kicking me out?” You almost cried.

“No, no, no!” She said. “Not permanently.” You nodded tearfully. “It would only be until they go on tour, dear. I promise. It’s just...they need their sleep to get the most out their practice time.”

“I understand.” You said, your voice barely passing a whisper.

“You won’t be homeless. We’ve already set up a living arrangement with a member of the church that’ll be happy to house you for awhile. Okay?”

“When do I leave?”

“Anytime tomorrow.”

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling. “Okay...I’ll go pack now if that’s okay with you Sister.” You said and got up without waiting for an answer.

You dug your nails into the soft material of your habit, willing yourself not to break down on your way to your room.

The waterworks started flowing at soon as you closed your door, throwing yourself onto the familiar comforting feeling of your bed, remembering that you wouldn’t have this bed until you got back.

It made you cry for hours, until you fell asleep...

You suddenly gasped awake, quickly trying to escape the claustrophobic feeling you felt around you. “Hey, hey, hey...shh...” You heard.

You looked up, and quickly realized who the voice belonged to. “Swiss...” You smiled, but Swiss didn’t smile. He looked worried. “What?”

You tried to sit, finding it difficult when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in the palms of your hands and forearms. You hissed in pain and looked at your arms. They were covered in scratches, and your palms had deep crescent shaped indents in them, all bleeding.

“Y/N...” Swiss frowned. “We got to take you to the infirmary.”

“No, no.” You groaned. “It’s okay. I have a first aid kit in my closet. Bottom shelf, I think.”

Swiss immediately rummaged through your closet and pulled out the kit, bringing it over to you as you sat up. “Does this happen often?” He asked while take out some antibiotic ointment.

You sighed. “Not really. I usually don’t hurt myself...it hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“I didn’t know it could get this bad...” Swiss gently took your arm, uncapping the tube. “I’m sorry.”

You smiled. “It’s not your fault. If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Swiss briefly gave you a confused look, continuing to treat your self inflicted wounds. “What do you mean?”

“Sister...she told me I’ve been keeping you all awake because of...my screaming. You Ghouls have always had better hearing than humans.” You laughed nervously.

Swiss’ eyes darkened. “She told you that?”

You nodded. “Practice hasn’t been going very well for you guys.”

Swiss sighed and shook his head, starting to wrap your hands with gauze. “I...yeah, it’s true. But it’s not your fault!”

“You’ve lost sleep because of me! How is that not my fault?”

“You can’t control what you do in your sleep, Y/N.”

“I have to leave tomorrow.” Your statement made Swiss halt his actions. “I have to stay at a Clergy member’s house until the band goes back on tour.”

“Fuck that.” Swiss suddenly said, making you blink in shock. “I’m not letting you leave.”

You chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like you have a choice.”

“I don’t care. You don’t deserve to be kicked out, even if it’s temporary. because of something you can’t control. I will go on strike, hell, all of us will.”

“Swiss...” You tried to scold, the determination in his voice making it hard for you to crush his hopes.

“Nope. Shut up.”

“Swiss.” You laughed.

“I’ll talk to Sister Imperator. I’ll convince her to let you stay.” Swiss said, looking you in the eyes. “Okay?”

You sighed in defeat. “...okay.”

Swiss finally finished treating your wounds, and put the first aid kit back in the closet. “Move over.” He ordered when he got back over to your bed.

You were confused but listened anyway. “What time is it?” You asked.

“Hmm, about ten.” He said and sat beside you.

You frowned. “You should probably leave then.”

“No, I’m staying with you.” Swiss said, making you blush. “If you want that it. Maybe it’ll sleep better?”

“Swiss, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Swiss giggled. “I don’t know if you remember, but I’m a Ghoul babe. You’d have to be really freaking strong to even leave a scratch on me.”

You giggled. “Okay then. Fine.” You said and snuggled up against Swiss, finding his muscular body quite comfortable.

“I’ll make sure you don’t hurt yourself again.” You heard him whisper before his warmth lulled you into a deep sleep.

The next morning, you woke up still in Swiss’ arms. You found it surprising that you hadn’t scared him away. You looked up to see a sleeping Swiss. His mask was slightly crooked, showing a tiny bit of skin underneath. You smiled when you heard his soft snores. You always found him adorable.

But you frowned, remembering that you had to leave the abbey today...you had to leave Swiss.

You reached up and gently poked his jaw, him groaning in reply. “Hmm?”

“It’s morning.” You said softly, looking back towards your window that had sunrays shining through.

“Oh, really?” Swiss yawned, finally opening his eyes to look at you. “Guess what?”

“What?” You smiled.

“You didn’t scream in your sleep.” He smiled.

“Really?” You almost shouted, making Swiss wince slightly.

“Mhm, you didn’t even more around that much. You mumbled a little, but other than that, you pretty much slept like a baby.”

“Huh...that’s odd. I mean, it’s great but still, kinda odd. That doesn’t usually happen. I guess that means the others Ghouls finally got some sleep too.” You laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry about them. You should be focusing on yourself.” Swiss snuggled into your neck, the cold metal raising goosebumps all over your body.

“I have to leave today...” You frowned. Swiss stayed silent, not loosing his grip on you. “Swiss...”

“I told you I’d take care of it.” Swiss said, slightly muffled. You sighed and decided to sit up, making Swiss groan. “No, come back.”

“I have start packing.” You started to get up but Swiss grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down and looking at you with an intense glare.

“I told you, I’d take care of it.” Swiss said and stood up. “Stay here. Don’t fucking leave.” He ordered.

You rolled your eyes and fake saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

As soon as Swiss left your room, you started packing your suitcase. It’s not like you didn’t trust Swiss’ abilities to talk his way out of any problem, but talking to Sister Imperator was a whole other thing. She wasn’t one to take anyone’s shit, so that was worrying.

You didn’t exactly know how Swiss was going to try to convince Sister, but you hoped he could anyway.

Meanwhile, Swiss gathered up his fellow Ghouls and explained the situation. Dewdrop made the mistake of joking around that he wouldn’t mind if you left, making Aether slap the back of the head.

But they all agreed to help out, quickly going to Sister Imperator and successfully convincing her to let you stay.

You however decided to change out of your habit, not really thinking you’d have the need to wear it in your new temporary home. It felt like you were being put in foster care all over again...

You swiftly removed your habit, neatly folding it and placing it on your dresser. You picked some comfortable clothes and briefly wondered if you should take a shower. But before you decided, Swiss barged in through the door without knocking.

You squeaked and quickly got underneath your bed covers, hiding your half naked form. But it was too late, Swiss was already wearing a smirk. “Oh, learn to knock, will ya!” You blushed furiously.

“Sorry.” He laughed. Yeah, he obviously wasn’t sorry.

As if he wanted to make you more embarrassed, he sauntered over and sat in front of you. “Swiss...” You whined and sighed.

Swiss smiled, looking over to your open suitcase and frowned. “You were packing?”

“...uh, yeah.”

“I talked to Sister Imperator. She said you could stay.” He said, still frowning.

But you grinned. “Oh my...wow, really?! That’s...Swiss, I don’t know how you did it, but thank you! I’d totally hug you right now, but well, you know.” You giggled nervously.

“Y/N...” Swiss said lowly. “Didn’t I say that I’d take care of it?”

“Uh, um...” You stuttered, suddenly nervous by Swiss’ gaze.

“Use your words, babe.”

“Uh, yeah. You did say that.” You sighed.

Swiss moved closer to you and placed a gentle hand on your knee. “So, why is it that you’re packed, huh? Did you not have faith in me?” He pouted.

“N-no...I didn’t have faith that Sister would be convinced.” You chuckled.

“Hmm, I suppose I can understand that.” Swiss said, moving even closer to you and placing his hand on your cheek. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, huh?” He smiled.

You suddenly became aware of how close he was to you when you felt his warm breath on your face. He would not stop looking into your eyes. You glanced down at his lips, feeling the urge to taste them.

Swiss smiled and leaned in, the cold metal of his mask hitting your face first then his soft lips.

You almost moaned at the pleasant feeling. You always had a soft spot for the charismatic Ghouls, now, you were finally his.

Slowly but surely, you started to feel the fabric of your duvet slid off your body. “Is this okay?” Swiss whispered.

You nodded rapidly, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

As soon as you gave consent, Swiss ripped off your coverings. Moving closer to you, he rubbed his large hands up and down your thighs. You could already feel yourself become slick with excitement.

Swiss brought a hand up to your underwear, delicately moving the article of clothing out of the way. You gasped when his cold fingers started moving in between your folds. “You’re so wet for me already, babe?” He grinned beautifully.

Swiss then inserted a finger into you, pumping in and out at a rate that made your head spin. You panted and tangled your fingers into his hair, placing the other hand on his bicep to try and steady yourself.

You moaned in pleasure when Swiss added another finger, then rubbing tight circles on your aching clit with his thumb. “Fuck, Swiss...”

Feeling a little guilty that you were getting all the pleasure, you brought your hand down from his head to palm his hardening length through his pants. “Eager, are we, Y/N?” Swiss groaned, throwing his head back slightly and chuckled.

With Swiss’ consistent pressure on your clit, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Quick shocks of intense pleasure making your body jolt occasionally. “Swiss...I’m gonna-”

Swiss quickly pulled his hand away, making you whine and almost let out a sob at the loss of contact. He grinned and brought his hand up, licking and sucking you off his fingers. “Can’t have you cumming just yet, babe.”

Swiss stood up from the bed to remove his clothes, taking off his briefs released his throbbing cock, a bead of precum already leaking out of the tip. He then hovered above you, placing himself in between your legs. “Again, you sure about this, babe?” He asked softly.

You almost groaned in frustration. “Yes, Swiss, I’m sure. Now please just fuck me!” You begged.

Swiss quickly obliged, thrusting up into you with a snap of his hips, not worrying about getting you to adjust to his size since you were already so prepared. You moaned loudly, finally feeling him stretching you out. “You feel so good.” Swiss moaned.

Swiss kept up a steady pace, his length hitting all the right places.

From already being so close to your release from his fingers before, you could feel the knot building up inside you once again. “Swiss, I’m so close.” You stuttered.

Swiss nodded and picked up the pace, close to his release as well. He thrusted into you fast and hard, making your tits bounce and your head close to hitting up against the wall. His mouth pouring out delicious moans every time he felt you clench around him.

You soon felt that familiar sensation flow throughout your entire body. The knot in you finally snapping, causing waves of ecstasy to burn through you like lava. You moaned loudly, eyes tearing up and your vision becoming hazy as you rode out your orgasm.

Swiss’ thrusts became sloppy, chasing and finally catching up to you in reaching his own climax. The shots of his warmth filling you up, making you moan in unison with him.

Swiss pulled out of you with a huff, throwing himself beside you and soon wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Wow...that was-”

“Fuckin’ amazing.” You giggled.

~~~~~~~~~~

I came up with a really dumb, cheesy title for a Multi Ghoul story. “Shimmying his way into my heart.” But I have no idea what to write to fit that title😂

Also, that was my first time writing smut so I’m sorry if it sucked. The cringeeeeeee 🙈

[ggukkiedae]

❝𝕒𝕣𝕥❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ jungkook takes yoonmi to get his birthday/christmas gifts for her

⇢ set in mid january 2021

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

Yoonmi excitedly bounced in her seat, making Jungkook chuckle.

He was currently driving her to his tattoo artist because of his promised Christmas/birthday gift for her.

Her tattoos.

“Would you sit still?” he placed a hand on her knee to keep her from moving. “If you’re like this until we get there, your tattoos might end up looking weird.”

She laughed but stilled herself. “Sorry, I’m just excited. A little nervous, too. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Think of it as training,” Jungkook told her. “It’s painful, but we get used to it and eventually get a great outcome.”

Yoonmi nodded at that and looked back out the window at the buildings passing by. She couldn’t believe she was finally getting her tattoos. At first, she was pretty hesitant because she didn’t know if fans would take it well, but, with Jungkook’s encouragement, she decided it was fully her choice and nobody else should be able to dictate whether she gets a tattoo or not.

Well, she’s getting four.

One was going on her right pinkie, one on the side of her right hand, one on the side of her left wrist, and one under her left arm just below her shoulder. They were pretty small, so she and Jungkook both figured they could do it all in one day.

“Do you think it’ll look nice together?” she asked Jungkook.

“I’m absolutely positive it’ll look amazing,” he reassured her. “We tried it out, remember? It all turned out pretty well. Look at that, we’re here.”

Yoonmi’s face lit up as soon as Jungkook parked the car. She turned and grabbed her bag from the backseat. Her jump made Jungkook laugh when she turned back towards the door only to find that he had opened it for her. nearly eleven years of living with boys who always do this for her, and she’s still always surprised.

He led her into the building and towards the receptionist who smiled at him.

“Nice to see you again, Jungkook,” the receptionist smiled at him before turning his smile to Yoonmi. “You, too, Yoonmi. You weren’t here last time Jungkook came.”

“She’s been busy with her boyfriend,” Jungkook laughed.

She whined at him. “Oppa, that’s not fully true. We’ve been busy with our music.”

“I heard,” the receptionist chuckled as he checked his computer. “It says here that Yoonmi’s getting four tattoos? Wow, and on your first time, too!”

“They’re all pretty small, and I’ve been thinking about them for a long time, now,” she smiled back.

“Let's get you settled in, then.”

Not ten minutes later, she finds herself settled in the tattoo parlor chair with Jungkook, upon his and Yoonmi’s request, placing the stencils on the same places he’d been drawing her tattoos for the past year and a half. The tattoo artist tied her hair as she watched the two in the mirror.

“Those are interesting tattoo choices,” she started a conversation with Yoonmi. “If it’s alright, may I ask who came up with them?”

“I kinda conceptualized them, but Ggukoo oppa drew them,” Yoonmi smiled proudly before Jungkook lightly smacked her arm.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay still when I’m drawing your tattoos on you?”

“You aren’t even drawing them, and they’re cold, okay?”

“Just sit still!”

The tattoo artist laughed at the two of them bickering before taking her seat next to Yoonmi. She gently sanitized the areas surrounding the stencils placed by Jungkook and the needle that she would use. Jungkook stood on Yoonmi’s other side, a hand on her head as reassurance.

“We’ll start with the coloured ink on your arm, alright?” the tattooist told the younger. “Then we’ll do the black one on your wrist then move over to your right side for the hand one and the pinky one.”

“Sounds good,” Yoonmi nodded.

Jungkook leaned forward a little to ask a question. “Is it okay if I get a touch up on my pinky tattoo as well?”

Yoonmi laughed alongside the tattooist at Jungkook’s inquiry. She grinned when the tattooist agreed to do it, and for free. It was their matching tattoo that she was sure Jungkook would show off to the rest of Bangtan as soon as they got home.

The next hour was spent with Yoonmi telling the tattoo artist about why she chose those specific tattoos while Jungkook watched the whole process of everything from as close as he physically could without disrupting anything. He’d gently pat her head whenever she flinched from the pain, but her overall ability to hide her pain kept her from reacting too much. It didn’t take as long as she expected. Pretty soon, everything was finished, and the tattoo artist gave her some time to look at them before she wrapped them up.

“Woah,” she murmured as her eyes scanned over the dark lines over her slightly red skin. “This is unreal.”

She reached over her lap to touch the word “breathe” on her hand, but Jungkook lightly gripped her arm to stop her. “Not a good idea, Mimi. How about you take a look at the one on your arm, yeah?”

She gratefully accepted the handheld mirror he handed to her and angled it so she could see her tattoo. The heart from their Love Yourself series settled proudly on her harm, it’s pastel colors standing out against her skin. Her jaw dropped, and he lifted her hand to touch it.

“No,” Jungkook gently pushed her arm down, “no touching, remember?” Not yet.”

“Right,” Yoonmi laughed before turning back to her tattooist, “sorry about that. They look amazing!”

“Thank you,” the older smiled while taking Yoonmi’s arms to cover her tattoos in a clear plastic wrap for protection. “I like to think I bring my clients’ ideas to life well. Now, I know you know the aftercare procedure because Jungkook says you help him with his, but I legally still have to give it to you. Actually, go up front and they’ll explain over there. I’ll just touch up Jungkook’s pinkie then get you your aftercare products.”

Yoonmi nodded as she left the room and headed to the receptionist who gave her a smile and sat her down to begin explaining. She nodded along to the steps, refreshing them in her mind so she wouldn’t forget. It was a little hard to concentrate, though, considering she has little pieces of art finally ingrained into her body.

“That’s everything you need to know,” the receptionist told her. “Jungkook’s on his way out here, so let me go help look for the moisturizers and soaps.”

She bowed at the receptionist as he walked towards the back. Jungkook took a seat next to her and observed her for a second before leaning forward. He lifted her right hand and folded all her fingers except her pinkie. He stuck his out as well and smiled.

“Looks like this is real now,” he pulled out his phone to take a photo. He then turned his camera to take a video of the two of them, to which she smiled towards. “Hyungs! Guess who has tattoos now!”

“Me!” she giggled while showing off her wrist.

Jungkook smiled and sent the video to their group chat. She couldn’t contain her excitement as the tattooist came to hand her a little paper bag with a moisturizer, sun cream, soap, and ointment while Jungkook stood by the counter with the receptionist to pay. Her smile did not leave her face at all. Not while she took a photo of each of her tattoos and sent them to her parents and to her older brothers. Not while she got into the passenger’s side of Jungkook’s car. Especially not when she saw how excited the other Bangtannies were in the group chat to see it in person.

Jungkook laughed at her excitement. “You send then to Mark yet?”

“No,” she shut her phone while shaking her head, “I asked him, and he wants to see it for the first time in real life.”

It was then when she turned to Jubgkook, widening her eyes and jutting out her lower lip. Her actions made Jungkook chuckle. It was clear she was asking Jungkook to drive her to her boyfriend’s dorm.

“How about this,” he began, “I take you home, and we leave your tattoos to heal fully for the next week. Then I’ll take you to their place, alright?”

“Okay!”

[holylulusworld]

My Little Bird

Summary: Now that Dean found you will he finally see you suffered or will things go worse?

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Reader, Benny Lafitte, OFC’s

Warnings: angst, language, mobster business, pregnant reader (sue me), protective Dean (overprotective bordering on possessiveness), soft Dean (he tries at least), comforting

Sequel to: Little Bird

Dean did not let you go. While Benny drives the SUV out of the parking lot Dean holds you carefully in his arms.

“My little bird will have a baby.” Whispering the words Dean smiles at his friend in the rear-view mirror. “Isn’t she the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Boss, you should go easy on her.” Benny’s features soften as you tremble in Dean’s arms. “She’s not wrong with what she said���”

 “I tried to protect her. Nothing wrong with protecting my wife.” Grumbling Dean places one hand onto your belly and his eyes lit up. Looking at you in awe his features soften.

“That is great, Dean. Just do not stress Y/N. It’s bad for the baby and all.” Benny knows about a woman’s condition, hormones, and emotions during pregnancy as his wife gave birth to twins not long ago. “She needs stability and love.”

“I love her.” Muttering Dean strokes your belly, not taking his eyes off you. “Oh…Oh…” Wide-eyed he looks at you. “There was…I don’t know. I felt something.”

“He kicked.” Mumbling the word, you move your hand over your belly. “I guess our baby boy is awake now.”

“A boy!” Sniffling Dean presses his lips to your temple. “Benny! “The baby kicked me! It’s a little boy…” Humming you dare to meet Dean’s eyes for the first time and your breath hitches in your throat.

A single tear rolls down his cheek and you do not know how to react. “I got an ultrasound picture in my wallet.”

“Can I see it, please?” Nodding you look for your purse in the backseat, remembering Dean put it into the trunk.

“It’s in the trunk.”

“Oh—shit…” Stammering Dean tries to avoid more curses. “Sorry. I will try to not curse when the baby is around. My mom always said, ‘no cursing in front of Sammy’.”

“s’okay. I cursed this morning too. I burned my finger and…” Dean pants heavily. His nostrils flares as he checks on your hand, looking at your finger.

“We have to get the doctor! She burned her finger.” Getting his phone out Dean wants to call Alex, but you stop him before he can dial her number.

“Dean, it is fine. My boss put some ointment onto the finger, and I got a plaster. Look.” Pointing at the Winnie the Pooh plaster you try to convince Dean your life is not in danger. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“It hurt…crap. We need to make sure you’ll never get hurt again.” Dean looks at the plaster around your finger, sighing heavily. “I let you out of sight and you got hurt.”

“Boss, it’s a burned finger, not a broken neck. Calm, take a deep breath and let the protective beast sleep for a while.”

Knowing Dean too well Benny tries to calm his friend. “I know you are worried, but Y/N is not Cassie. You protected your wife well so far. I think Y/N can decide some things on her own, Dean. Give her space to breathe.”

“Space…” Glancing at your baby bump Dean tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “What if anyone tries to kidnap her or worse? I can’t let her leave the house alone.”

“You can at least let her do some things she likes to do. Your wife makes the best omelets I ever ate.” Not giving in Benny keeps in arguing. “I told you to not suffocate her any longer. I can’t see you suffer again.”

“Suffer.” Glancing at Benny you gulp as your friend nods. “Dude didn’t stop whining about how much he misses you. He played with a gun more than once, drank too much and even let Sam take over the business for a while.”

“Gun…wait!” Panting you look up at Dean. “You tried to kill yourself? DEAN!”

“I felt hopeless without you. I lost you, couldn’t hold you tight enough, my little bird.” Nuzzling you Dean hums as you gently touch his face.

“I tried to escape as you held me too tight, Dean. I never wanted to leave but you acted as if I cannot do anything right. Then you let that woman…” Sniffling you look at the wedding band at his finger. “You cheated on me with that woman…”

“I swear, it was only this once and…” Shaking his head Dean closes his eyes. “There is no excuse for breaking my vows. I am sorry.”

“Let’s get the lady home and you can regret your shitty behavior for the rest of your life if she’s willing to forgive you.” Dean’s eyes search your face as you refuse to look at him.

“I…I could try to…” Dean’s words come out in pants as he is not used to losing control. He never could show emotions and the one time he did – Cassie paid the price…

“I can run you a bath and you can relax. Do you want to eat something?” Reluctantly walking into your bedroom, you can see Dean did not change a thing.

The book you read months ago lies abandoned on your nightstand. The silver necklace you forgot is draped over the fairy figurine he gave you to your birthday and the nightgown you wore before you ran away is placed onto your side of the bed.

“I…I didn’t change anything. You can do so.” Dean nervously cups the back of his neck, rubbing his sweaty palm over the skin. “I will prepare the bath for you. I bought those lilac bath bombs you like so much.”

“You remembered…” Sliding your fingers over the little figurine you take the silver necklace.

“I remember everything you like, little bird. I just…” Looking at you with sad eyes Dean shrugs. “Maybe I never learned how to express my feelings. My mom was soft and warm, just like you but my father…”

“He was a hard man, I know.” Stepping closer to Dean, the necklace still in your hands you press it to your heart. “I heard from it.”

“He taught me, no us, to not show emotions in our business. I followed his order, always.” Opening the top drawer of a commode Dean removes the false bottom to get a hidden box out. “I kept a few things from my mom. Look.”

Dean never talked about his mother or Cassie. All you know is that his mom got killed when he was around four and that his father was not the best at parenting.

“She was pretty.”

“We never got to know how she died. Dad told us the story but over the years, he changed details until it was more a fairytale than a story. Sometimes I even believed it was him killing her as she tried to leave him.”

Dean’s word let your heart drops as you look up at him. For the first time, you see something vulnerable in Dean.

The little boy from back then is still inside of the tall man in front of you and maybe, just maybe you can get a part of him back.

“What about Sam? Did he ever…I mean…”  Nodding Dean hides the pictures in the box before he shows you one of Cassie and him when he was younger.

“Sammy never believed dad’s story about mom’s death. We drifted apart for a few years as I followed dad’s order and Sam left the family business.”

Stepping closer you look at the box. You would like to have a look at all the things Dean is hiding in the box, but he opened up a bit, so you don’t push your luck.

“I see. Sam mentioned he was away for a while. I am sorry your father was…” Sniffling you peck Dean’s cheek. “Must have been hard to grow up with a hard man.”

Dean’s eyes sadden as he can read your mind. You believe he will not be a good father to his son, so he gets another picture out. It’s a picture of Dean and his bride, Cassie.

“The reason I am so worried, so protective is that I lost Cassie at our wedding day.” Your hands start shaking as you take the picture out of Dean’s hands. “I know that I told you we divorced but…”

“She died?” Your eyes drift toward the picture of Dean’s first wedding and you feel a cold shiver run down your spine. “How…Dean?”

“We came out of the church and Sam; he called my name as I dropped my phone. I kissed Cassie’s cheek, told her to wait for a moment and went back into the church. It was barely a minute, but it was long enough…”

Dean takes a deep breath before he shows you another picture. It’s an ultrasound picture and he gives you a sad smile.

“I heard a gunshot and ran out, Sam and dad tried to hold me back, told me to wait but all I could see was Cassie dropping to the ground…”

“Dean…” Grasping for his hand you press it to your swollen belly. “I am so sorry…”

“Do you remember when you asked me about the scars at my stomach and shoulder? I lied and told you it was an accident when I was eighteen but the moment I tried to get to Cassie I got shot. Twice.”

Your eyes meet Dean’s and you can see the pain in these green orbs. “I hit the ground and all I saw before losing consciousness were her lifeless eyes and her ruined white dress. I lost my wife and child on the same day.”

Carefully placing the pictures back into the box Dean gets an envelope out. Your name is written in tidy letters on the white paper and there is a tiny bird next to it.

“I kept it…all of it.” Getting the love letter out you wrote Dean at the age of ten he smiles as you open the letter with shaking fingers. “I got the flower you gave me with twelve and the ticket from the movie we watched when we were fifteen.”

“After that, my dad and I moved away…” Nodding Dean looks at the letter in your hands. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I met Cassie and was ready to start a new life with her, but I never forgot about you. I always remembered my little bird.” Cupping your cheek Dean brushes his lips over yours. “I should get you some food while you have a warm bath. It’s getting late.”

Just like that Dean put his secrets back into the box and you nod, wondering if he will ever be able to open to you completely. “Dean…I am sorry for what happened to Cassie and your mom.”

“I know, Y/N.” Pressing a soft kiss to your temple Dean gently strokes your back. “I’ll get you something from the kitchen. Any wishes?”

“Peanut butter and jelly?” Whining you look up at Dean and he snickers at your choice of food.

“Still a peanut butter jelly girl…”

The water relaxes your sore body. Working as a waitress while being six months pregnant is exhausting. Your feet hurt, just like your back but the emotional exhaustion is even worse.

Dean telling you about his past is a new level in your relationship, but you are still not sure if he will be able to grant you more freedom.

You can understand he is scared to lose you but keeping you in a golden cage will not do any good.

“My wife needs something to eat.” Grumbling Dean looks at his cook. She smirks, already getting the porridge out.

“I said…” Gritting his teeth Dean points toward the fridge. “My wife wants food, not your rubbish. She hates porridge, you know that.”

“I want her to eat healthily…” Slamming his fist onto the counter Dean shakes his head.

“We do not need you any longer, or rather…” Smirking Dean tilts his head. “You are fired.”

While the cook leaves the kitchen, Dean gets a plate out to make you a peanut butter jelly sandwich. He is carefully removing the crust. Nodding to himself as he cuts the sandwich into two halves.

“Perfect…” Benny snickers as he steps into the kitchen. “Maybe give her an apple too.”

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’ Dean takes the plate to walk out of the kitchen. “Y/N wants this sandwich, she gets it.”

“Good…that’s good Dean.” Humming Dean looks at his friend, licking his lips before he looks at the sandwich.

“Benny…thanks for your advice. My little bird needs more sunlight I guess. When she wants to go out, go with her. Never leave her alone.” Dean grumbles, but he knows he got no other choice than granting your more freedom.

“How do you feel, Y/N?” Dean’s voice makes you jump as you hold your wedding picture in your lap. “You’re wearing my shirt…”

Dean’s eyes roam your body. You are wearing one of his favorite shirts and you look adorable to him. “Nothing suits me any longer. I am too big…”

Laughing Dean hands, you the plate and you smile as he removed the crust as your mom did for you. “You can have all of my shirts, but you can drive to town and buy new clothes, little bird.”

“Oh—okay.” Nodding you take a bite of your sandwich, moaning at the taste. “I could just ask Ellen. She has great taste and could get me the clothes I need. I would like to spend the day with you…”

“Yeah? You want to?” Sitting onto the bed to watch you eat your sandwich Dean smiles to himself. “We could go too. I could come with you and help you chose. We need a nursery too. Maybe Benny can help us.”

“Dean, do you think we can make it?” Placing one hand onto your belly Dean nods silently. “I’d like to try but I need more…”

“Freedom…I know…” Dean whispers as you eat the other half of your sandwich. “My little bird needs to fly.”

“I want to get to know more about your life too, Dean. I want more honesty and freedom. I promise to be careful. I would never risk our child gets hurt.” Rubbing your belly Dean sighs but he nods.

“I’ll try to be less overprotective from now on. I love you and the baby boy in your belly. I will make sure my little bird can spread her wings…”

>> Part 3

Tags will be added to the reblog.

[cynicalrainbows]

The Next Best Thing Pt 5

Apologies for the long wait!

Babey Cathy and Anne finally get their playdate (I feel like they’d have amazing dark games) and Cathy reminisces about the funeral.

She has a little moment of worry as she pushes open the door to the spare room her room: it’s a bit smaller than her old room, which means it’s a lot smaller than Anne’s room, and what if they can’t play properly. 

(What if Anne regrets coming over?)

(Anna probably has a huge bedroom).

It turns out though that Inca Princess Burial can be played just as well in Cathy’s new bedroom as her old bedroom- although Anne does look at her strangely for a second when she suggests it.

It takes Cathy a moment to understand- because Inca Princess Burial is their BEST game, and since it can’t be played properly in the playground, they don’t even try, which means they haven’t played it for ages.

First, she’s scared that Anne just doesn’t want to play- perhaps she’s grown out of it since then, perhaps she’d rather be playing something else (something cool and german and grown-up) with Anna.

But then Anne says they don’t have to if she doesn’t want, and then she understands, and immediately wishes she didn’t.

Of course. Anne thinks she might not want to play Inca Princess Burial now that she’s played ‘Real Life Burial’ (except it wasn’t playing, it wasn’t a game.)

Her new black dress was too tight around her arms and she was glad because it gave her something else to think about, even though the red marks stayed on her skin until bedtime. 

She scuffed her shoes drawing a pattern in the dust outside the church and Catalina looked but she didn’t tell her off, didn’t even tell her to stop, and no one else did either, even when she did it harder, on purpose.

 It made her want to cry, the horrible difference in everything, the reminder that she was different now, an orphan, with an orphan’s privilege of no one caring if she messed up her things or not. 

Catalina stood very straight, as if she was afraid of falling off balance, and smiled a tight smile at all the people who came to shake their hands and say they were ‘so sorry….such a tragic loss….so very sad’.

She watched Catalina’s expression all day, so she could copy- she wasn’t sure how her face was meant to look on a day like this.

A woman with sprayed-stiff silvery-blonde hair leant in close and asked if Catalina hadn’t thought about getting Cathy ‘smartened up’ for the funeral, which made no sense because she was already wearing a new dress and new shoes- it made her wonder if she’d spilled something on herself, except she couldn’t have done- she’d pushed away her breakfast that morning and Catalina hadn’t pushed it. She hadn’t understood what the woman meant- but Catalina seemed like she did. 

(‘I really hope you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, Margot.’ 

‘Just….you can get some really wonderful hair-straightening treatments nowadays-’

 Catalina squeezed Cathy’s fingers so tightly it hurt. ‘If you think I’m going to damage my goddaughters beautiful natural hair for some ridiculous standards of-’ 

She broke off. ‘Cathy’s hair comes from her mother. The mother she is having to say goodbye to. Do you really think she needs to be made to think that’s something she should be ashamed of?’ 

The woman huffed something about ‘only trying to help’, her high heels making cross clicky sounds on the wooden floor as she walked away and Catalina leant down. 

‘She’s an idiot, mija. Promise me not to listen to people like her.’ She’s not quite sure what she’s meant to be not-listening to but she nods anyway and Catalina pulls her into a fierce hug.)

She hadn’t cried when the wooden boxes disappeared behind the curtain, even though everyone else was. She knew mum and dad were meant to be inside the boxes but somehow, she couldn’t believe it. The boxes were too small.

She hadn’t even cried when the third person whisper-asked Catalina if she was ‘really sure about taking it all on’, even though she knew that she was the it. 

She didn’t cry and she didn’t even shout or kick out at the people asking, although she wanted to (she wanted to ask them why they were asking Catalina these scary sort of questions now, she wanted to ask what would happen to her if Catalina decided to answer in the negative���. But she didn’t.) 

 Catalina just smiled a not-real smile at all of them and cut most of them off before they’d finished talking. 

‘Really ready for the burden of-’

‘Of course Cathy is staying with me.’ The questioner- a stooped man with egg mayonnaise from the buffet table staining his tie- winced a bit at her loud tone, as if he’d rather Catalina match his hushed tones.

‘And you’re-’

‘She’s my goddaughter.’ Catalina squeezed Cathy’s hand tight- she hadn’t let go all day and it made Cathy feel a tiny bit less lost, a bit less like she might disappear altogether. 

‘Of course she stays with me.’ 

She nods, like the conversation is finished, and starts tugging Cathy quickly away, although there’s nowhere in particular they need to be. 

Outside, the wind whips at their skirts. The sky is cold iron grey but Catalina's hands over hers are warm. 

‘It’s going to be ok, mija. It’s going to get easier. I know it doesn’t feel like that now but it will.’

She doesn’t answer but Catalina doesn’t seem to mind- not then, and not when she doesn’t answer anyone else either, all the people who tell her that they’re very sorry, that she’s gotten so big now, even the stupid woman with the too-bright lipstick who tells her that she’s a lucky girl to have such a nice new dress. 

She gives them all the same blank stare until they get uncomfortable and look away- the stare of someone who can’t be hurt, who doesn’t need anyone or anything, who can’t feel anything at all.

Catalina doesn’t seem to mind- and when she can’t keep it up and bursts into stupid tears later that evening (after spilling the cocoa Catalina made her on her favourite pajamas), Catalina doesn’t seem to mind that either, just scoops her into her arms and rocks her back and forth without a word, which is good, becasue she can’t think of any words that would make her feel better.

It makes her feel a bit shaky for a moment- she wonders if it’s wrong to want to play a game about burying someone when she’s seen people buried for real…. But then she remembers what catalina told her when she asked if it was still ok to read and watch tv and do other normal things when mum and dad were gone.

(‘They want you to be happy, querida. It’s alright to be sad but it’s alright to be happy- to do things that make you happy too. It’s what they would want.’)

Catalina’s voice is so strong in her head that it actually drowns out some of the shaky-anxious thoughts- she’s able to smile at Anne.

‘Are you sure you want to play that?’

‘Yeah. I'm sure.’

She does still wonder if they’ll be able to play the same in her new bedroom but it’s ok, it’s just as good- perhaps even better, because when Catalina knocks on the door with chocolate biscuits, she says they can use the sheets from Cathy’s bed AND her bed as embalming bandages, and that means she can entomb Anne really authentically.

(They have to promise to put fresh sheets on both the beds when they’re done but, as anyone who has played Ince Princess Burial will know, it’s completely worth it.)

She entombs Anne as thoroughly as she can, until Anne starts whining that she can’t breathe- and then they have the excellent idea to include the things Mrs James taught them about Egyptian burial last week.

(They decide it doesn’t matter that the Inca’s didn’t use the Egyptian mummification methods. Anne reckons they probably would have done if they’d known about them. Or maybe they wouldn’t, but still, it makes the game even better, which for a game as good as Inca Princess Burial, is quite an achievement.)

They don’t have a proper hook, or even anything that can be used as a hook, but it’s still lots of fun doing the brain-through-the-nose bit (even if she keeps telling Anne that the real mummies were dead and wouldn’t have screamed quite so dramatically.)

Catalina and Jane come in when they’ve only just started, both holding half drunk cups of coffee and looking a bit panicked, but they calm down once they explain it’s part of the game.

Jane murmurs something to Catalina about ‘sugar and spice and all things nice’ that makes Catalina give a very un-Catalina-like snort of laughter, and then tells them they can have an ice lolly if they promise to move onto the next part of the game right now.

The idea of an ice lolly is tempting BUT they decide in favour of continuing the mummification process to the letter, as much as they can. 

Jane laughs when they tell her what they’ve decided and tells Catalina it was ‘worth a try’, and Cathy decides she likes Jane more than Anne’s real mum or dad. 

(She doesn’t like the way Anne’s mum will ask a question and then look around like she’s bored when she’s answering, and although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she’s still a tiny bit scared of Anne’s dad after he shouted at them for playing snakes and ladders with the ladder the house painters had left propped against the wall. 

She hadn’t even been on the ladder- just the snake at the bottom, hissing and trying to catch and devour Anne’s kicking feet- but she’d still wanted to run away and hide when he roared at them and she’d been glad when her parents had come to pick her up soon after.)

At least, they try to follow the mummification process to the letter: Cathy really doesn’t want to use up all of her strawberry flavoured lip balm which is what will happen if they use it as embalming ointment. Anne asks if she wants the Inca Princess to just be buried un-embalmed and rot and rain down curses on them all, so she asks Anne if she wants to be left without a pretend-lipstick next time they want to play Business Woman Detective? 

Anne says she’ll just borrow some from Mary or from her mum, even though even Cathy knows Mary doesn’t wear lipstick anymore and that Anne isn’t allowed in her mum’s bedroom ever ever and no exceptions...but she doesn’t sound like she really means it, so they just skip the embalming part. (The Inca Princess will probably understand.)

(She sometimes wants to ask Anne how the no-going-into-the-bedroom actually works- what does Anne do if she doesn’t feel well? What if she has a bad dream? What if there’s a powercut? What if robbers break in? She can think of a thousand what-if’s but she doesn’t ever ask Anne. Perhaps she doesn’t really want to hear the answer.)

(She’s very, very, very glad Catalina doesn’t have the same rule though, especially when it thunders.)

They’re half way through gathering up things to use as Offerings and Sacrifices (the coveted sparkly shoes, and Cathy’s favourite stuffed otter, and the specially-nice books Catalina sent her last Christmas with the covers made of cloth and the titles stamped in gold) when Catalina calls them for tea.

They’re both starving.

(Burials are SUCH hard work.)

[demon-slayer-imagines]

25 with Tanjirou pls

Heck ya! A tanjiro, lemme put on my good boy pants cause this is gonna be precious (or I’m gonna try and make it precious lol!)

“ You are my home”

“ tanjiro! Slow down please!” A child like voice whined out as pants could be heard when the fluffy haired boy came to a stop, turning around to look at his best friend behind him. “ you run too fast! I can’t keep up!” They whined, trying to catch their breath while tanjiro didn’t show an ounce of sweat or wear to him. “ how are you not tired?” “ I dunno, I just enjoy being out all the time. I do this every day! Traveling up and down the mountains with papa and mama helps a lot.” Hearing the voice of his mother up the hill call out for him and his friend to hurry on inside with the sun setting caused him to hurriedly take their hand and place them on his back. “ t-tanjiro! I can walk just fine!” “ I know, but we gotta hurry inside, I know your scared of the dark so I don’t want you out here when it gets dark. Your light anyway, you and Nezuko fit on my back perfectly!” Seeing you blush a bit made him blush as well, a small giggle leaving him. “ hang on tight, I’m gonna go fast!” “ ok!” And just like the boy said, he went racing up the mountain towards his home, without worry or a care in the world.

After that, you had left him and his family. Your family had moved away without telling him, and he felt broken without you. Who wouldn’t when it was your best friend leaving without a word to be said or at least a note, letter, SOMETHING! His parents never spoke of the reason why you left, simply saying ‘ they thought it best to see what else was out there,’ but he didn’t believe that tale for a minute. He knew you wouldn’t just up and leave for no reason, to see the world as they said, there had to be something else, some deep meaning to why you left that they refused to tell him. Even so he nodded his head and let it be left on that reasoning, until his family had been killed by a demon. After that, he knew deep down the reason you left had to be something had happened concerning some kind of demon. It was kami’s grace that the two of you found each other again, him a demon slayer and you a medic for the pillars. At first he didn’t recognize your face, but the smell, he remembered all too clearly.

The scent of honey with fresh laundry and a hint of cinnamon, he wondered if you had cooked recently, but he knew for a fact it was you. And you remembered him, you couldn’t forget that cute fluffy reddish black hair with that scar on his big forehead, not to mention the earrings he wore, you remembered those belonged to his father. Seeing each other again was a moment of shock and happiness. You never thought you’d see each other again, but there you all were, running and jumping into each other’s arms, crying and laughing about how much you missed one another and to never leave each other’s side again.

That was in the past, and now, here you were patching Tanjiro up for the hundredth time that week. The boy certainly doesn’t know the phrase “take it easy” and even if he did, he certainly didn’t abide by it. You were wondering how long it would be before you’d have to stop at another town to regather supplies for him and the others. Zenitsu and Inosuke weren’t any better either at keeping out of harm’s way, but that’s why the pillars appointed you to joining them on their adventures. “ there, all done.” Placing the last stitch through his skin, you quickly placed ointment on him and bandaged him up. “ arigato,” tanjiro give you a smile before waving his arm around, already feeling great after you patched him up. “ you know you truly are something else Tanji-san.” “ oh, thanks!” He thought it a compliment but it was more so a worried statement. “ it wasn’t a compliment! I know your a hard worker and wanna be helping others out but do me and yourself a favor and help yourself out by relaxing ya?”

The boy shrunk beneath his friends words, understanding where they were coming from and feeling bad for each time they had to patch him up for being reckless, but it came with being a demon slayer after all. “ what about zenitsu and Inosuke?” “ what about them?” You questioned as the boy looked around. They weren’t anywhere to be seen and you all were currently sitting outside of a hotel building in a busy town. “ don’t you think we should go looking for them? It’s so busy around her I’m afraid they’ll get lost...” “ they’ll be fine, I asked them to go pick some more medical supplies up for me before we leave tomorrow morning. Anyways, if they get lost I’m sure it won’t be hard to find them.” Helping him up and inside the hotel, they headed to the back where their room was, Seeing Nezuko was out and about looking out the window at the bright city lights that flashed every few seconds.

“ don’t forget to not sleep on it. If you do it’ll put pressure on your wound and you can reopen the stitches.” “ right!” “ also, make sure zenitsu puts a bit more ointment on you before you go to sleep!” “ right!” “ And-“ it was like a mother talking to her baby, but sometimes that’s just how yours and Tanjiro’s relationship was. Tanjiro was a kind and gentle boy, but jeez did he have a thick head, but you knew it wasn’t out of spite but more so carelessness and forgetfulness. He was truly a kind soul and everyone deserved a person like him in their lives. “ ok, don’t forget any of what I just told you.” Seeing him nod with small flowers float around him, you couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. He was way too cute for his own good, and you hated it. “ Nezuko, make sure your brother doesn’t do anything reckless tonight, ok?” Seeing her also nod with flowers floating around her, there was no doubt these two were indeed siblings. Both too good and too precious for this evil world.

“ even though you say you understand I don’t trust you...” you mumbled, bending down to set up Tanjiro’s bed for him, “ Ne, ne, you don’t need to do all that, I can do it!” Slapping his hand away, you pointed at him harshly as he stepped away while sweating. “ Gomen...” Watching you finish making the bed for him and grabbing his night clothes from the closet, you began helping him undress as he became frantic. “ I can dress myself ya know!” “ I know you can but, just... let... me..” Nezuko stood by and watched as the two of you became tangeled in each other’s limbs, falling down and hitting the floor roughly, Tanjiro under you as you gasped. “ tanjiro! Are you alright!” Sitting up, he looked up at you with a small blush on his face, your face just inches away from his. “ I-I’m fine.... are you alright?” “ yes, I’m alright... what did I just tell you huh? You could have hurt yourself again.” “ that’s fine, as long as you don’t get hurt.”

Your face flushed as he smiled up at you with his face bursting into red himself. Rolling off of him, you laid beside him as the two of you stayed quiet and just relished in the quiet of the night, the sounds of people outside and the city wavering in and out. You looked over when Nezuko laid down and scooted herself on the other side of Tanjiro. Yea, she was extremely cute. “ Tanjiro.... you really need to start being more careful. There are some injuries I just can’t fix.” “ I know.” “ And I don’t know what I’d do if you got seriously hurt.” “ I know.” “ Do you know tanjiro?” You glanced over to him as he looked up at the ceiling, nodding slowly. “ yea, cause... I would feel the same way about you if I was in your position.... even now I worry about you traveling with us.” “ how come? I can easily handle myself you know.”

It stayed silent for a moment, Nezuko shuffling around on the floor around them as Tanjiro thought about what to say. “ because, you and Nezuko... are my home.” Your eyes widened as your processed that, turning on your side to look at tanjiro. “ you and Nezuko are my everything. You all remind me of home, so when you all are around, I feel content and that nothing bad could happen, just like in our younger years. All I can do is feel happy and just cherish the memories we make with every passing second.” He smiled softly, his earrings ringing softly as he turned to look at you, placing himself on his side. Looking you in the eyes, he gently placed his head against your own, snuggling against you. “ without you, I’m never home. You are my home, my place I wanna be forever.” You couldn’t help but feel a burst of love flow through you, snuggling back against him and thanking him for his love and kindness. “ same goes for me, promise you’ll never leave ya?” Feeling him nod they couldn’t be more happy. “ ya, promise.”

[lashtoncurls]

Hungry eyes(AI) pt2

Summary: Ashton is the new performing arts instructor at the country club Izzy and her family attend every year during summer. And the unexpected happens when they fall in love while he teaches her to play drums and dance.

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: curse words, smut

A/N: I enjoyed writing this part so much. So here it goes.

“Hey, Izzy!” Calum called her over to the table where he sat with his parents and sister.

“Hi.” She shyly spoke as he told them that it had been her father who helped him with his hand a couple days ago. There was now a black bandage on his hand with a cast as he tried to eat, his sister laughing at him.

“Shut it, Mali.” She shrugged innocently as Izzy watched them interact.

“Your dad is one of the greatest surgeons in New York, correct?” Calums dad asked, a smile on his face.

“Yes.”

“Tell him I said thanks for treating my boy. This is only the second summer we’re here and I’m glad to have someone who cares for others.”

“Will do, Mr. uh-”

“Call me David, sweetheart.”

Izzy nodded and went to go find her table as she noticed Ashton and his crew enter the hall. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night of the bonfire, but she had still been sneaking around to watch the practice and had insisted that her and Lily take dancing lessons from him. Her parents had agreed, only because they said it was something that would keep them busy and away from boys.

After dinner Calum asked if she wanted to go for a walk. Izzy nodded and they began to make their way down the pier to the forest, the bonfire the only light in the dark forest.

“Here come the rich kids.” Luke laughed as Calum punched him lightly, his cast getting in the way.

“You’re a fucking moron. What are we gonna do now? Can’t compete without a bassist.” Ashton spoke as he reached them, Michael joining the conversation as well.

“Hey man, how was I to know that his nose was gonna break my hand?”

“As a musician, you should know that your hands are the most important part of your body, you dumbass. Will the recovery be hard?” Ashton examined the cast, his eyes filled with worry as Izzy watched the interaction.

“Doc said I have to wear it for six weeks, if it heals fine I should be back to playing. But I might have to do some physical therapy if there’s any issues.” Calum was sad as he pulled his hand away, realizing that he would not be able to play for the rest of the summer.

“Might as well drop out now.” Michael spoke and shrugged. There was disappointment among them as they realized that they didn’t have a chance at all.

“Why not teach someone to play in my place? Don’t throw away the whole competition and what we’ve practiced.” They all watched Calum as he suggested it “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, even Izzy could take my place.”

“Oh, I can’t.” Izzy nervously shook her head, aware that four pairs of eyes were on her.

“You heard her, she can’t. Missy is too good us.” Ashton challenged her with a sassy stare, her face blushing deeply “Plus the bass is too much to learn in three weeks.”

“Then teach her to play drums. You can play bass pretty good. Teach her the songs on the drums and you take my place. Stop looking at me like that, I’m fucking serious.” He laughed again as they all watched him.

“You wanna learn the drums?” Ashton asked, his eyes looking directly into Izzy’s. She looked away but nodded, knowing that it would be a good thing to do if she helped them.

“Alright then. Lessons start tomorrow at 8AM. If you’re not on time, we’re not doing this.” Ashton walked away and her thoughts were filled with what it would be like to spend time with him. She was aware of his asshole ways, but she somehow liked that about him.

The lessons had begun as prompted, every day at eight in the morning Izzy would be in the music hall ready to learn. It had been difficult at first, she would bang the stick too hard or her tempo would be off. Ashton would get irritated, but he knew she had potential and the will to learn so he would sigh silently and continue the lessons.

“You’re off on the beats, there’s a steady rhythm you have to follow. It’s like dancing, watch.” Ashton pulled her away from the drum set and started a song on the speakers before he stood in front of her and showed her a stance. “Okay, so see how my feet begin to move at the second beat? That’s how drumming is. The bass and the drums are in sync the whole time. The first song we’re doing has guitars at the beginning, so you have to pay attention on the beat and tempo.” His feet were moving together, but she noticed the way he did without watching. She noticed that he played the drums with passion as he did his dancing.

At the beginning of the second week, things had begun to pick up. Her skills were improving and she was now getting the hang of it better. Izzy was able to play the beginning of a song they had written, but her fingers had begun to blister up due to the wood. At first Ashton had threatened to stop if she whined but she began to suck it up, coming up with excuses every time her dad would ask why there were random bandages on her fingers.

“Fuck!” She screamed and dropped the sticks on the floor as she inspected her fingers, Ashton sighed as he put his head on her back. It was now less than a week away from the competition and Ashton wanted to have her know everything there was to know, but her hands were fragile and she kept getting cuts.

“Let me clean those up.” Ashton got up and fetched the first aid kit from the bathroom. “Let me see.” Izzy turned around as Ashton kneeled in front of her, her hands in his as he cleaned up the blood and put an ointment on them before he kissed her fingers. Their eyes were on each other before he reached up and placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his hand cupping her cheek. Her body welcomed the warmth as the butterflies fluttered in her tummy.

The tension had been palpable every time they were together, but now Ashton really wanted to kiss her. He wasn’t sure why now. It could have been the stress of the competition being so close, or the fact that Izzy and Calum had become close friends. But the pang of jealousy he felt every time he saw them together made him do what he did next. His lips were on hers as he pulled her face closer, his body between her knees as his free hand rested on her thigh. Izzy gasped at first, unsure of what to do as this was her first kiss.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as Ashton moved his hand from her cheek, both of them on her thighs before traveling to her hips, where her top exposed some skin. Her body shivered and she gasped as he traced circles, his tongue tracing her bottom lip before taking entrance. Izzy’s mind when hazy as Ashton squeezed her hips harder and he moaned slightly when she pulled a little at his hair. This was all unknown to Izzy, but the feelings she had were something that she was fully enjoying.

She began to feel throbbing between her legs when Ashton kissed down her neck and he wrapped his arms around her, his face burying in her chest slightly. He pulled slightly at her shirt, his eyes asking if it was okay for him to take it off. With a slight nod, Ashton pulled the flimsy material off her and exposed her to him, his lips caught between his teeth at the sight. She blushed slightly, as Ashton kissed up her stomach to her neck and lips. His pants began to get a little snug as he elicited moans from Izzy with his mouth on her body. Before he could think, his hands were back on hips as his fingers pulled as the material of her leggings.

“Do you trust me?”

“Y-yes.” Izzy nodded as Ashton instructed her to get up and began to pull the material down her legs. He smiled at the pink lacy panties she wore, and Ashton really wondered why she was letting him do this. Such an innocent girl with a man like him.

“Sit.” She sat back on the stool, her face blushing again for the third time in the last twenty minutes, but she giggled slightly that the thought of it all. In 20 years she’d never been kissed or been on a date. And here she was now, almost naked before a man she’s known for a mere three weeks. But she knew that she could trust him. Something within her knew that this was right. He was kissing her once again, his hands roaming her thighs as he pressed his chest to hers.

“I’m- I’ve never-“ Ashton kissed her neck again, taken aback because of her confession. Her confidence as they kissed certainly did not seem like that. He looked straight at her once again, her lips red and swollen with a mark right underneath her breasts. There was no way he was going to have sex with her in this room, but he wanted to show her what he could do to her. He wanted to show her his love for her in that way.

“I’m not gonna fuck you, doll. Not yet.” He smirked at the gasp she took before he kissed her again and his hands roamed higher on her thighs. His fingers had moved to her inner thigh, caressing slowly as he kissed her neck and she pushed her core to him, letting her instincts take over “I just want to taste you.”

“Oh, Ash.” She moaned as his fingers began to rub her through her underwear, the small amount of friction causing an unknown yet pleasurable feeling to coarse through her. Ashton watched the way her lips parted in moans as he rubbed faster and her hands never left his neck. But as much as he loved the sight, he really did want to taste her. He moved his face between her legs as he pushed the lace aside, exposing her wet core to him. Another loud sigh escaped her as his tongue pressed on her clit lightly before he began to move in circles before sucking and licking.

One hand left his head and it landed on the cymbal, both of them bursting into laughter before Ashton buried his head between her legs again. This time he was licking and sucking harder as she writhed underneath him. It was a strange feeling and she began to push his face away as it became too much.

“Just let go babygirl, come for me.” He lifted his head slightly before going back and sucking on her clit again. This time Izzy didn’t push his head away, but instead pulled at his hair and bit her lip as the pressure began to build in the pit of her stomach. And she succumbed to it, letting it take over her as her legs shook slightly while she moaned Ashton’s name. He lapped his tongue at her folds again, watching her shake as he lightly brushed her clit before moving up and placing his head on her chest and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

That stayed like that for what seemed like hours as she caught her breath. Izzy couldn’t believe that she had just done that. But she also was grateful that it had been Ashton it had been with.

It was now the day of the competition, and Izzy was a mess of nerves. It had been easy task with telling her parents where she was. Calum conveniently had a doctors appointment and she had asked to go with him. Her dad had become fond of the Hoods, and accepted that she accompany him.

After his appointment, they drove down to the theater and walked in to meet the other three. Ashton paced the hall as he played the chords on the bass, mumbling the words to himself.

“Hey, it’ll work out. You’re gonna do great.” Izzy reached on her tiptoes to kiss the bird tattoo on his neck as she hugged him from the back, but she couldn’t quite reach.

“Just remember when to start okay? If walls could talk will start with Luke and I before you come in just like we practiced last night. And the other two you should know.” Izzy nodded as Ashton walked away before they were called in. They were second to last on the line up, which meant that they weren’t going to be there too long with the nerves of knowing who had won.

When they were called on stage, Izzy took a deep and closed her eyes as the bass started and Ashton looked back at her to give her her cue. The first song when without a hitch and her confidence was sky high as they played the through the second and third songs. But nearing the end of the third song, her foot slipped and she hit the bass drum twice before returning to finish the rest of the song right. She beat herself up for it, and as she was about to something Ashton wrapped her up in a hug and kissed her lips.

“I messed up.” A pout adorned her lips, but Ashton laughed it off and reassured her that it was fine. The crowd had enjoyed the show and they had almost received a standing ovation.

Their nerves were calmed as all the bands were called back on stage for the final results and they had won second place. It was as great as winning first, but they had ran into someone in the industry on the way out and they got to talking.

The drive back to the club was filled with laughter and stolen kisses from Ashton, and she couldn’t help but be happy.

Tags: @myloverboyash @slimthicccal @dweebluke @haveiquitefinished @heaven-high-water @lukesflaredpants @uncrownedqueeen @5-secondsofcolor @calumhampton @angelbbycal

[superlepato]

With Love from Memory Lane

Sorry for the delay, there was a blackout that lasted almost a week and I wasn’t able to write or post the new chapter. This one isn’t checked since I couldn’t find a beta at the moment if someone finds a syntax or grammar error please tell me, so I can change it. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3  AO3

Chapter 4

One of the things he learns and struggles with was to recognize the advantage in life that came with his designation, while still acknowledging that he was a victim too, but not letting that fact cloud his judgment falling in a loop of victimization.

Nobody teaches you how to empathize with other in aspects that you could never understand and experience and accept that pain isn’t a currency that you can quantify, having more pain doesn’t make less the struggles of others.

Life isn’t a competition to see who suffers more.

In more than one occasion he felt that there was an invisible wall between Steve and him, and he didn’t do anything more than beat himself against it over and over before learning how to address the issue.

At that time when Steve gave him the silent treatment, he didn’t make any effort to be tolerant, he had enough if he wanted to act that way so be it.

They didn’t talk on Social Studies, Science or Language Arts, in the Recess they didn’t even saw each other, well...Steve didn’t, he knows because he was watching.

At school, Billy didn’t lack people to hang with, now that he didn’t spend his time exclusively with Steve his routine changed. He had to learn new directions and phone numbers, he could recognize some places but others were still foreign to him.

He had to call before going out to make sure that they were going to meet in the agreed place. In more than one occasion he waited for hours for the whole group to be complete.

Billy stopped doing it after his father berated him for being a bitch and going after everyone asses instead of showing dominance like an alpha, wasting his money like he was the one paying the phone’s bill, so he did what he was told, like the bitch his father wanted him to be just at home.

From then on he went to any place they decide to reunite (Melvald’s parking lot, basketball court, etc.) if someone wasn’t there when the time came they would leave him behind. Sometimes if the group didn’t schedule to meet after class, Billy would just go to the house of Tommy, David, Michael or anyone for that matter as long as he could stay away from his house.

It was easy for him to call the shots in the group, after the incident with the locker room he became the top alpha by default.

Steve didn’t leave his mind entirely especially when they shared classes, there wasn’t any animosity between them but neither of them made an effort to reconcile either, with the pass of days it was getting easier to think less and less of Steve and his home life, now that he was getting used to his new routine without him.

The day Steve and Billy made amends was on behalf of Steve distress. He would never forget that day and he wasn’t the only one, years later Steve’s breakdown would come as a topic on parties or more private and silent gatherings at the quarry.

That day everything started off, Steve was brought by his father instead of him coming with his bike like usual, the bike was still there just in the backside of the car, Steve’s clothes had wrinkles, his hair wasn’t brushed perfectly, his eyes and nose were puffy and red, it was weird how disheveled he looked. During class Steve was eerie silent and taciturn, not paying attention to classes and not bothering to pretend for the sake of not catching the attention of the teacher.

On recess he didn’t hang out with anybody, he just sat in a corner, head on his knees, in the Social Studies class that only omegas and alphas could attend Steve had his head on the clouds and no matter how many times the old alpha teacher told him to pay attention Steve keep daydreaming.

P.E was an exception, kind of, this time Steve seem to at least try to do the exercises but he did it with such lack of enthusiasm that the coach bench him since it was obvious that he wasn’t at his best, everyone else kept doing laps, in the corner of his eye he could see the still figure of Steve that was apparently sleeping.  

Lunch wasn’t any different than P.E, Billy doesn’t know if Steve ate or if he even brought or bought food, but he knows that he spent his time resting his head on the table, a lady came to Steve to check on him but promptly left him alone, maybe deciding to leave him after he gave a poor excuse. It seemed that the only thing he wanted to do was to sleep and dream.

Everything went to shit on Elective, he choose Spanish, the language wasn’t foreign to him since it wasn’t unusual to hear people speak it on the streets of Cali, it would be good to take advantage of this head start, also, it was a plus that he didn’t need to change classrooms as the others.

Omegas electives were three: knitting, sewing, and embroidery (in his opinion they were all the same), any girl could take those electives regardless of their designation, but to omegas it was mandatory.

They were learning new verbs when he heard the yelling of Steve and another person, an adult without a doubt. Miss Whitermoore was an old omega in charge of teaching cooking, floral arrangement, embroidery, and all that girly stuff, she wasn’t actually a teacher, she was more a glorified volunteer than anything else, she never got married and dedicated all his life in mastering the skills she taught, with so much free time  she must have decided one day to just to teach those hobbies, nobody seemed to mind, actually it was reinforced to keep those traditional activities alive. 

Billy thought that was a lie, half of it at least, they probably didn’t want to go against the old hag since it was better to keep her occupied with harmless activities than being in his bad side and let her focus all that free time gossiping and targeting people to bother, no wonder she was still a virgin, according to the rumor when she was younger she was such an ugly omega that nobody wanted her, she hides in a veil of traditionalism and puritanism to not show the resentment she felt towards everyone and herself.

That was the first time he saw that woman, dragging Steve by the neck, complaining that Steve was being disruptive during class, rude and a complete savage that bite her, promptly showing the mark on her arm with more vigor than necessary, whining how now she needed to see the doctor and how she was going to pay the pills and ointments since she didn’t perceive a salary from the school even though she was teaching for a long time and blah blah blah.

The hag and Mrs. Brown the Spanish teacher went outside, Mrs. Brown had to calm the hag from her rant about needing suture, leaving them with some exercises while they went to the nursery and in search of the homeroom teacher. Steve for his part was sent to sit in the corner.

The moment they were out of the room the whole class went nuts on gossip, some even try to pry information from Steve but he kept his vote of silence in the far corner of the room.

Mrs. Harper the homeroom teacher entered the classroom later, everyone turned to their sits and books, it was obvious that they didn’t fool anyone but the teacher didn’t give them more than a glance from the door frame, preferring to focus all is attention on Steve, calling him outside.

In low voices, the class kept talking, others stood up and went to the door trying to hear what they were talking about, with his ear pressed heavily on the wood door, Billy was one of them.

Mrs. Harper was asking what was the matter with Steve, he wasn’t behaving like usual, receiving complaints from other teachers about his lack of concentration and now his barbaric behavior.

He wasn’t able to hear what Steve said since his voice was so low that he probably must be whispering.

“ Why did you bite Miss Whitermoore? ” she asked with a stern tone.

“ ‘Cause she grabbed my arm and it hurt.” now that Billy can finally hear him, he swears that he could see the pouting face that Steve does when he is a brat.

“ And she did that because…? ” Steve doesn’t respond.

“ She told me that you didn’t want to the work and answered rudely to her. "

“ I don’t know why I have to see that class. ”

“ All omegas had to do it, you know that Steve. "

“ Yeah, but I’m not a girl, how knowing all that stuff is going to help me with anything? "

“ Those skills will come handy when you start a family. " this time she used a softer tone of voice.

“ Are they? they have helped you with something? ”

“ Of course, every day when I cook or when I mend my husband’s…”

“ So that’s it? everything I learned I’m going to use it to keep my alpha husband happy? ” Steve started to raise his voice, enough that he probably wouldn’t need to keep pressing his ear on the door.

“ Steve you can’t marry a man. " Mrs. Brown said without room for discussion.

“ But I have to, isn’t it? Health class taught us how omegas can only be with alphas, even though there are alpha couples and beta couples, there aren’t any omega couples because omegas can only feel complete with an alpha. Never fulfilled without a knot inside them. "

“ Steve Harrington, watch your mouth that’s no way of speaking! ”

“ IT’S TRUE! I’m not stupid or deaf, I can hear what everyone says, what my parents said. I know that I’m screwed, no woman would marry me and I can’t marry a man, I can’t get the job I want. I’m just the boy which his biology will turn into a fag in a couple of years, while everyone pretends that I have opportunities or a future beyond being the town's fag whore or the next Mrs. Whitermoore. This school is BULLSHIT, everyone here is BULLSHIT "- Steve went from pouting and grumbling to straight yelling to the top of his lungs, Billy was shocked, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that those words weren’t directed at him, still, his heart beat like crazy on the other side of the door.

“ YOU ARE NO MORE THAN A LIER, YOU ARE JUST AN ORDINARY WOMAN, A BETA THAT NEVER LEFT THIS PLACE AND WILL DIE HERE FOR THE REST OF HIS PATHETIC LIFE ”

Steve was full hysteric, his voice is high pitched until loud slap echoed through the corridors. For a brief moment, everything was on silence, like time just stopped.

“That’s Enough! You don’t have the right to speak to me in that manner Steve Harrington”

Steve watch her through watered eyes and silent tears with an anger that his body could hardly contain, at that moment he was full of hate, hate for his parents, hate for his teachers, his classmates, and the school, hate for his bad luck, cursed to live a life without being loved and the one person who loved him left him, hate that burned inside him with a passion that threatened to burn the world, and if there were a possibility of that being possible he would let it happen. He did what he felt logical at the moment and run away, ignoring the warnings of Mrs. Brown.

The next day Steve’s episode was still the tendring topic in class and it would stay that way for a few more days, rumors were coming and going through school growing to the point of exaggeration. A simple bite turned to be something that needed twelve stitches or something gruesome as tearing bits of skin, how Steve's teeth were full of blood and didn’t come to class because his parents put him in a nut house.

One of the things that may be true was the rumor that Steve was responsible for the broken windows of some of the cars that were in the parking lot, Billy actually saw the windows of those cars when was returning home and they were indeed broken.

The next day Steve didn’t show up either, on the third day the police came to the school, Steve was missing.

[visionshadows]

Born to Run

For the @sidgeno-fluff-fest prompt of puppies. Entirely 100% because I spend a lot of time following Blair Braverman and Quince Mountain on Twitter. Musher Twitter is fun! 

The snow crunches under Sid’s boots, the sky still dark and the stars heavy above. The sun won’t rise for another hour, but by then the dogs will all be fed and ready to go. He can hear Geno in the barn, whistling tunelessly to himself as he gets the sled ready.

“Hey babies,” Sid murmurs as he scoops a mixture of meat broth and kibble into the first bowl he comes to - Gretzky’s since his house is closest to the barn. “Time to rise and shine.”

A few of the dogs are already out of the houses, whining for their breakfast. Manon is singing. The yearlings are the slowest to wake and Sid reaches into the house to scratch Masha under the chin. “Come on, precious. Time to get up and eat breakfast. You’re going on a run today.”

They all want to run, every last dog, and Sid hates when they have to leave any of them behind. Soon they’re all fed and jumping around on their leads, howling and ready to go. Geno’s got the sled out and packed for today’s run. The Canadian Challenge is three weeks away and Geno’s got to do a hundred miles today.

They work in unison, getting the booties on the dogs who are running today. The older dogs are a little better at standing still than the younger ones. Flower still dances around like he’s a yearling even though he’s 8 and has been running on Sid and Geno’s teams his whole life. The whole goalie litter is a little crazy. Manon is the only one who can be trusted which is why she’s Geno’s lead dog.

The sun is just peeking over the trees when the dogs are all hitched to the sled and Geno is ready to go. Manon and Masha are leaping and howling in front.

Geno taps Sid in the chest and they do their handshake. Sid gives him a kiss and Geno slaps him in the ass, making Sid laugh.

“Love you,” Geno says roughly, one of the first things he’s said that morning. Sid reaches up to pat his face once more with a thick glove. Geno pretends to bite at it.

“Go on. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Geno grins and pulls up his neck warmer before shouting “let’s go!” The dogs take off with a flying leap and the sled jerks forward. Sid watches them go until he can’t see them any longer. He stamps his feet a few times and then turns back to the dogs left in the yard. There’s work to be done.

Sid’s 18 when he meets Geno, shaking hands with him, snowblind from the glacier and half asleep from the time change between Norway and Alaska. It’s Geno’s third summer on the glacier, giving tourists a taste of Alaska without any of the mess. Sid’s not quite sure what he’s doing here. He just knew he wasn’t ready to go home.

He’s got a team of twenty dogs of his own and he loves each and every one of them immediately. He takes his time getting to know them, feeling them out as best he can even though he’s got to start giving tours the next morning. Geno gives him tips on which dogs are the best in lead, which work best as wheel dogs, which ones are lazy.

Sid thanks him and Geno grins at him, wide and warm and Sid feels like he made the right choice.

The first day is long and exhausting and when the evening comes, Sid’s arms and legs feel like rubber. His throat is sore from talking and his lips are cracked. All the dogs are rubbed down and fed and taken care of. All he wants to do is go sleep forever.

Geno catches him though and grabs Sid’s arm. “Come. Have to eat.”

Sid wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “I would rather get some sleep.”

“Have to eat,” Geno insists. “Can’t take care of dogs if don’t take care of self. Food is first. Then sleep.”

Geno shoves him into the meal tent and Sid meets the rest of the mushers and handlers. There’s only thirty people on the glacier at any given time, thirty people, two hundred dogs, and an ever-changing landscape of ice. It probably won’t hurt to listen to Geno and eat.

A few days later, Geno’s sitting next to him as Sid repairs a harness and Geno’s sipping tea from a thermos. It’s as quiet as it gets on the glacier, dogs are barking, people are talking.

“Want my own team someday,” Geno says after a while. “Don’t really like this.”

Sid looks over at him and nods. “Yeah, I want to race.”

“My family think I’m crazy,” Geno laughs, shaking his head. “They say, spend all my time with dogs. Like cold too much. Never go home to Russia again.”

“You can run dogs in Russia,” Sid points out, smoothing the harness before putting it aside.

Geno sips his tea. “Can. Could never be in love in Russia so I stay in US or Canada. They understand that, just not dogs.”

“Oh,” Sid looks at his knees. He wiggles his toes inside of his boots. They’re warm and cozy. He gently knocks his shoulder into Geno’s, layer upon layer. “Same. But my parents understand about the dogs.”

Sid’s a writer as well as a musher and he spends his post-chore time working on an article for Outdoor Life and updating Twitter. He hates social media, but Geno convinced him that it’s a necessary evil. They have a ton of followers and they use Patreon to help defray costs to keep the team running.

People love the dogs and they love Geno so Sid mostly films them and talks about things that they do. He’s honest about the less than savory parts of their life, from picking up shit to chopping up raw meat. He posts video of Geno handing out beaver tails to the dogs after a long run.

On their 4th wedding anniversary, Sid posted a picture of them from the glacier, young and smiling, both of them with goggle tans and squinting from the glare off the ice, Geno’s arm slung over Sid’s shoulders. He’d captioned it with Happy Anniversary, Zhenya. Both he and Geno had lost hundreds of followers, gained hundreds more, received lots of hate and made it to twitter moments.

That’s kind of why Sid hates social media, but he continues to use it. Mostly he’s annoyed because he wrote a book and it’s not like he danced around the issue of Geno. He wrote about their wedding in the book. It’s a damn good book too.

Geno posts a video from the trail, the dogs running and Geno narrating what is going on, breathing heavily, but happy at the same time. Sid watches and then reposts. Callie, their only indoor cat, climbs into his lap and curls up for a nap. He strokes her with one hand as he goes over his lists for the Canadian Challenge.

Geno’s got to do this one alone since he’s using it as a qualifier for the Iditarod. No help at checkpoints, all care by the musher only. Sid can’t do anything to help once the race starts. He can prepare everything ahead of time though. Mostly he’s worried about Geno’s feet. His boots are good, but the temperatures in Saskatchewan can get down to -40.

He’s browsing arctic gear and listening to a podcast about the mating habits of elk when the phone rings. It startles Callie and she takes off, leaving Sid’s lap in a burst of fluff.

It’s Geno and Sid answers with a grin, “Hey babe.”

“Just watched Ovi shit on Shannon while we run and made me think of you.”

Sid laughs loudly and leans back in his chair. “You say the cutest things.”

“At least he not stop team to shit. Can’t talk long. Love you.”

“Love you too. Tell Shannon I’m sorry she got shit on.”

Geno doesn’t say goodbye. He never does. It’s been a rule they’ve had since that first summer on the glacier. No goodbyes. They hadn’t even been together after the first summer on the glacier and they had sworn that no goodbyes was the way to go. It works for them.

Callie slinks back over, looking put out. She climbs back into Sid’s lap and he starts to pet her again. He’s got another 500 words to write and a pair of boots to buy before lunch.

It takes them five years to buy their farm. Sid finishes school and writes a book. They work on the glacier every summer and spend too much time apart during the fall and winter, working for different mushers and volunteering at different races. They both work the Iditarod twice, but only see each other when it is over. They get married and argue about what they’re going to name their racing team.

The farm is in northern Ontario, far enough away from everything that Sid can breathe. They’re not ready for dogs right away, no matter how much they want them. They still get them faster than expected. Another musher has an unplanned litter and offers all five pups to them.

They know Cari from the glacier and the dogs’ line is good so they say yes. Geno builds dog houses and Sid drives across Manitoba to pick up the puppies when they’re ready to be weaned. They’re all adorable balls of fluff, climbing all over each other and running around the yard.

When he gets them home, they sit in the yard with their puppies running around. Sid leans against Geno’s side, watching them happily. One of the puppies comes running over, tripping over his feet and tumbling into Geno’s lap. Geno picks him up, shaking him gently before cradling him against his belly.

“So this forwards, goalies, or defense?”

“Goalies,” Sid says easily. “These are definitely goalies.”

Geno rubs the puppy’s belly lightly. “Who this then?”

“The girls are Manon and Shannon for sure. Boys are Flower, Marty, and Vlad.”

“Welcome home, Vlad,” Geno says, leaning over to press a kiss to the puppy’s forehead. Vlad wiggles away and romps back over to where his brothers and sisters are playing. Geno pulls Sid close again and kisses him softly. “Thanks, Sid.”

Sid breathes against Geno’s lips, smiling. “Thanks, Geno.”

Geno gets home late at night, Manon still singing to announce they’ve arrived. Sid’s waiting for them, stew warm on the stove for Geno and warm meat and kibble for the dogs in their bowls. Geno’s fingers are stiff as they work to unclip all the dogs and get them rubbed down and stretched out.

Sid checks Shannon over well for any lingering shit, but all of it is gone thankfully. She licks his face as he massages her paws with ointment. All of the dogs are tired, but they eat and settle into their houses comfortably. Sid gets the sled put away, sending Geno into the house to warm up.

All of Geno’s gear is in a pile by the door, stripped off and left there. Sid rolls his eyes. He could leave it if he wanted. Geno would take care of it after showering and eating, but Sid shakes out the parka and hangs it up. The snow pants and gloves are next. He inspects all the gear at the same time, making sure it still in good shape. Boots are last and he pays close attention to the soles before setting them aside.

The shower is running when he gets upstairs to the bathroom. He slides in, leaving his clothes in a pile next to Geno’s. The water isn’t warm yet, still lukewarm to make sure Geno doesn’t accidentally burn himself.

“Hey,” Sid says, stepping into the shower. Geno’s leaning against the wall, eyes half-closed as the water runs over his side. Sid pulls him upright and gets him under the spray. “Everything still attached?”

Geno grunts in affirmation and lets Sid move him around until he’s pink and warm. He kisses Sid slowly, hands resting on Sid’s lower back. Geno’s stomach finally interrupts them, loud over the running water.

Geno laughs against Sid’s lips. “Sorry.”

They eat dinner on the couch with a hockey game on, Edmonton is losing to Boston. They paid too much money to Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl and now they can’t put a team around them.

Callie begs stew from Geno and he gives it to her, crooning softly in Russian to her about how she’s such a good cat. She’s his baby, the only one he spoils since it’s a bad idea to spoil sled dogs.

“If the dogs could see you now,” Sid murmurs as Callie laps stew from Geno’s spoon.

“She’s starving,” Geno says, rubbing behind Callie’s ears. “Look how skinny.”

Callie is decidedly not skinny and hasn’t been since she was a stray kitten Geno found when out on a run with the dogs. Sid runs a hand over Callie’s pooch and gives Geno a look.

“So skinny.”

Geno pouts and Sid laughs, leaning up to kiss him. “Make sure to eat enough. If you don’t eat, you can’t take care of the dogs.”

“Always take care of me,” Geno says fondly and pulls Sid close. “Always take care of dogs too.”

Sid squirms closer, careful not to dislodge either of their bowls or Callie. The house is warm and his belly is full of stew. It’s dark outside and cold. The dogs are sleeping comfortably in their houses and tomorrow they’ll go on another run with Geno.

There’s nowhere else Sid would rather be.

[kimjongdaely]

Taken [Chapter 14]

Mafia!AU

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Warnings: Language; may have triggering situations including sexual situations, abuse, violence, etc.

Summary: You were just a normal girl. You were just trying to get by. Until a rather unfortunate relationship brought you to the hands of Suho, the leader of the greatest mafia in the country.

Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8│Chapter 9│Chapter 10│ Chapter 11│Chapter 12│Chapter 13│Chapter 14│Chapter 15│ Chapter 16│Chapter 17│Chapter 18│Epilogue

Suho is late.

Well, he did tell you that afternoon that he had to go out for a patrol and won’t be back anytime soon. They were still trying to find Luhan, but haven’t found a single trace of him.

You dangle your legs by the side of the bed, knowing it’s far too late in the night for you to be up. Suho will give you hell for it when he sees you.

But you want to wait. You have to wait. It’s been a few weeks since you started climbing into Suho’s bed, and your nightmares are certainly much more tame. But that doesn’t mean they’re gone completely, and Suho knows this. He knows you won’t be able to sleep without him.

You perk up at the sound of footsteps; you can already recognize his over everyone else’s. The door opens slowly, revealing a worn down Suho who looks utterly exhausted, hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled.

Your heart lurches to see him so tired like this. You’re sure he’s never looked as worn down as this even though he runs such a big mafia. And it’s partially your fault. If it wasn’t because of you, Luhan might not ever get a lead on them.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he heads straight to the bathroom to change.

“Yes. Just tired.” He answers, his voice muffled by the door. A minute later, he comes back out in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants. He furrows his eyes on you as he sits on the bed. “Are you okay?”

His question takes you by surprise. If you say no, that would be a complete lie. You have been thinking about something a lot lately…

“You never answered me.” You whisper, feeling blood creep to your cheeks. You look down at your hands in your lap to avoid his sagacious eyes.  

“About?” He cocks his head and frustration slowly bubbles in your stomach.

“I confessed.” You blurt, your lips tugging out into a pout. “But you never answered. I mean, I understand if you don’t like me. I can totally take it back and pretend I never said anything if you want—” You’re ranting now, embarrassment getting the best of you, as well as the fear of rejection.

You would hate to ruin the nice relationship you have with him right now.

“Whoa, slow down.” He let’s out a soft chuckle, coming to cup your cheeks and tilting your head so you can look into his eyes. “I never said anything like that. And,” his eyes soften, his thumb caressing your cheek, “I do love you.”

“You do?” You ask, wide-eyed, completely shocked. “Really?“

“I do.” He smiles sincerely. “Really.”

You’re so surprised you have no time to react when he leans in to brush his lips against yours before capturing them fully. The kiss is slow and sensual, as if the two of you have all the time in the world.

He pulls away, his lips tracing the outline of your jaw, down to your neck, pushing you to lie on the bed in the process. Your fingers tangle in his messy hair as you let out a soft moan. He proceeds to nibble and suck on your neck, marking you.

He comes back up to press his lips against yours again, longer, deeper, making you completely melt into him.

You whisper his name, his real name, as he moves to kiss your collarbone, moving lower and lower. Clothes fall discarded on the floor.

“Turn over.” He whispers against your skin and you obediently roll over so your back is facing him. You shiver when you feel his lips against your skin. You realize what he’s doing. He’s kissing your scars. Your beautiful scars.

You’re beautiful.

Every part of you is beautiful to him. Even your scars. Even the parts you despise and loathe. He loves you, everything about you.

You turn again, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

His skin is burning against yours, warm and soothing. He hugs you close, whispering words of love and comfort even as tears prick your eyes. You pull him closer if possible.

Your nails dig into his back unconsciously, feeling his quick heartbeat match yours.

You bury your face against his shoulder, taking in his scent. He was shaking against you, and you wondered if you were doing the same. He comes to kiss the shell of your ear, tracing your jaw again and finding his way back to your welcoming lips.

He collapses next to you on the bed, and you giggle softly as you watch his eyes droop. You brush his stray hairs out of his face, and the corners of his lips curl up into a smile.

He brings you in close again, kissing your forehead, a lucky charm to ward off any nightmares. You doubt you’ll have any tonight. You doubt nightmares will take away this happiness from you.

“I love you, Junmyeon.” You mumble as you snuggle closer to his chest, content but exhausted.

“Love you too.” He whispers back, but not a second later you know he’s already asleep. He really is tired. You smile before kissing his jaw, falling asleep yourself.

“You’re glowing.” Chen grins as he watches you curiously.

“Am not.” You counter, but you totally know you’re smiling like an idiot.

“Yes you are!” He jumps in front of you to stop you in our tracks. “Tell me! What happened?”

“Nothing!” You giggle as you try to avoid his hands as he comes to trap you, but he ends up grabbing your wrist anyways, his other arm coming around your neck to lock you in place.

“Tell me!” He whines, and you laugh while trying to escape his cage of limbs.

“Chen, careful.” A sharp voice cuts both of you off. “She’s still not fully healed.”

“Suho!” Chen whines, letting you go. He blinks at the male before you as well, his confusion deepening. “Dude, you look awfully cheerful. Am I missing something here?”

“If you can’t even escort her properly to Lay, maybe I should put you with D.O—” Junmyeon starts but Chen doesn’t even need to hear the rest.

“Yah! I’m doing the job just fine!” He grabs your wrist to pull you towards the medical ward, sticking his tongue out at Junmyeon.

The both at you merely laugh at Chen’s behavior.

“The wounds are looking good.” Yixing tells you after he inspects your back, giving you some more ointment to put on to speed up the healing process. “Looks like you’ll be completely healed in a few more days.”

“Yes!” You grin widely, flashing Chen a victorious V. “Can I go back to training with the others then? I feel so uncomfortable just sitting around watching.”

Yixing hesitates. “Okay. But don’t overexert yourself.” He gives you the okay to leave. You jump up to follow Chen out the door, yelling goodbye to Yixing.

You skip next to Chen, your mood improving tenfold.

“Seriously, you’re so cheerful it’s freaking me out.” He wrinkles his nose at you. “Something did happen between you and Junmyeon, didn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You hum. “By the way, can I call you Jongdae?”

He stops abruptly, surprised. “Oh…uh, sure.”

“What? What’s wrong?” You furrow your brows at his strange behavior.

He let’s out a sheepish chuckle, his hand coming to rub his neck. “Nothing. I’m just not used to hearing my own name. It’s been a while since I heard it.”

A thought suddenly hits you, making you grin widely. You loop your arm with Jongdae’s. “Jongdae, let’s go for a walk.”

You bring him out to the back of the base where the trees keep the place mostly hidden from outsiders. You throw your head back to look at the green leaves, listening to the rustle of the wind, the dappled sunlight drawing warm pictures against your skin. “How did you come here, Jongdae?”

He follows you closely, but doesn’t answer for several moments. You bite your lip as you glance at him, his face neutral and devoid of his usual happiness. “Sorry, was I not supposed to ask?”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just,” he takes a deep breath, “it’s a long story.”

“Are you willing to tell me?” You urge softly, your voice gentle as if you were talking to a scared animal.

He lets out a tight smile. “Actually, we’re all orphans. Our parents either died from poverty or were murdered. Mine were murdered.” He bites his lips. “It was a robbery. I was about three or four and I don’t remember it much, but they died in front of my eyes. I was young, but I ran. I ran or else I would’ve died with them.”

His story shocked you. He looks so calm while recounting it, but you can only imagine how much it hurts to remember.

“The police assumed their child died along with them, or was kidnapped. Whatever,” he grits his teeth before he calms down again, “the point is, they gave up on looking for me. I was a kid wandering the streets. I was picked on by gangs, I starved, I froze during the winter. I almost died. And then I met Suho.” He small smile grows on his face. “He’s only a year older than me, but he was already so much more mature. When I met him, he had no emotions. He was always calm, always so levelheaded. He was too old for his age. He protected abandoned people like me. Probably because we’re like him.”

He let’s out a soft laugh. “So young…and yet already trying to protect others. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve died.” Jongdae picks up a fallen leaf and twirls it in his fingers. “And Suho built this entire empire from scratch. He’s really amazing.”

“Wow.” You breathe, imaging what it must’ve been like for them. You can’t help but admire Junmyeon’s strength. “Do you know Suho’s story?”

“I do.” He grins. “But I’m not gonna tell you. He should be the one to tell you himself.” He looks up at the leaves again, breathing in deeply, raising his arms above his head to stretch. He then flashes you a wide smile. “Let’s go back.”

You nod, following him back to the base. The world is peaceful and quiet and warm around you. The base is coming to view again.

Then, you hear a strange rustle in the bushes. The both of you stop in your tracks, watching your surroundings. You feel Jongdae immediately tense in front of you, alert for any danger. For a moment everything is quiet and you think that it might’ve been the wind or an animal.

You start to relax before suddenly a hand comes to grab yours and you scream, a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream, but it goes in vain as another hand comes to cover your mouth.

Jongdae lunges for you, but more people emerge from the bushes, blocking his path, and he has to deal with them first.

He’s winning, at least in the beginning.

But more and more men emerge to fight him, and he can’t possible ward off so many people at once. There are at least ten people circling him, all trained in combat.

You struggle against your hold to help him, trying to break free. You use all your strength, every method you learn from your training, and you manage to break free for a second. You make a run for it, trying to help Jongdae, but three more men come to hold you down.

Your eyes widen in absolute horror as you see one one of them come up behind Jongdae, hitting him swiftly and precisely in the neck, knocking him unconscious.

You continue to struggle, but your strength is quickly deteriorating. You could barely get away from the first one, you certainly can’t escape from three strong men. You’re carried away even though you desperately call for help, for Jongdae to save you, for Junmyeon to come to you.

A rag is put over your nose and mouth, forcing you to breathe in the strong chemical. Your consciousness is fading, the world spinning.

And again, the world falls black.

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Taken Mini Masterlist

A/N: Yoo~ I did warn about sexual situations. *Shrug* And sorry not sorry for turning the fluffiness back to ANGST! So tell me what you thought again and thank you for reading!!!

©kimjongdaely

Request and let’s love!

[fromchaos]

i like my body

read it on the ao3 at http://archiveofourown.org/works/7846558

(repost of an old fic just bc)

summary: adam has noticed for some time that while ronan seems to be getting more comfortable every day, he’s been feeling gradually stranger in his skin.

pynch, rated m, #everyoneistrans

title from the poem “i like my body” by e. e. cummings, which vaguely inspired this fic. in order to fully get into the mood, listen to the entirety of the front bottoms discography.

cw/tw for gender dysphoria, brief references to adam’s past, mentions of gender confirmation surgery, and non-graphic descriptions of sex. in addition, i’d just like to say that i am but one trans person and the experiences of these characters certainly don’t represent the experiences of all trans people. okay, enjoy!

the first time one of them leaves a mark, it’s almost completely an accident. ronan gets carried away lavishing attention at the meeting of adam’s neck and shoulder, and later there is a faint red splotch in that very spot. he doesn’t notice it until he’s brushing his teeth before he leaves for work. as he kisses ronan goodbye at the door, he comments on it as casually as possible, “nice leech action earlier.” adam swivels his head to the side, baring the little mark to ronan.

ronan looks embarrassed, which on him is really just one of many variations on “mad.” he won’t meet adam’s eyes when he snaps, “sorry, won’t happen again.”

and maybe adam should have expected he’d take it this way; physicality between the two of them has been a slow, rambling journey, ironically nowhere near as natural as it had felt with blue. they still haven’t done anything more than clumsily feel each other other up in the midst of a heavy makeout session. any verbal acknowledgment of it by either of them usually makes the other respond with teeth and claws bared, ready for a fight. “no, ronan,” adam says, trying for a tone that could be described as earnest, “really- nice.”

it’s still not enough, still awkward in the way words usually are between them. their flirtation had been about actions and spontaneous gestures for so long that it sometimes feels like things get lost in translation. when adam had asked gansey about it, his sage advice had been, “if you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.” and adam wants to be doing it, wants to be doing even more of it, so he bravely struggles through moments like this one.

ronan’s face breaks into something more open and unreadable, and he gives adam one more kiss before shoving him out the door. on opposite sides of the barn’s walls, they are both smiling.

from that point on, ronan and adam rarely appear in public without a few hickeys between the two of them. the others give them shit for it almost constantly, but adam just rolls his eyes because he doesn’t have words to describe how good it feels to have bruises that his friends can joke about, how it feels like he and ronan might belong to each other in a way that isn’t completely terrifying.

in january, ronan gets top surgery as a christmas present to himself. the surgeon is in dc, so he stays with the ganseys while gansey is up there for the winter break. adam asks if ronan wants him there, but he shakes his head and gives adam’s hand a squeeze where it’s held between them on the couch. he doesn’t explain too much, probably can’t, but adam figures he understands some of his reasoning. they’ve been working on it, but they still struggle with being vulnerable in front of each other, and adam feels uncomfortable with any behavior that could be described as “nurturing.” gansey had been taking care of ronan a lot longer, and he’d gotten his own top surgery more than a year before.

when he comes back to the barns nearly a week afterwards, adam is anxiously waiting at the kitchen table with opal, who is chomping on a fork and kicking her hooves. the pig pulls up, and he rushes to the door to see ronan slowly pushing himself out of the car while gansey carries his bag and fusses over him.

“remember, opal, no tackling.”

she snorts, clearly of the opinion that tackling should always be allowed. “how long?” she whines.

“two weeks. at least.” opal throws the fork angrily but comes to stand by the door regardless.

ronan grins when he comes in, even after gansey starts nagging him and overloading adam with care-giving instructions. he waits until opal has given ronan a surprisingly sweet hug to say his own hello. it’s just a light kiss, a whispered “welcome home,” in his ear, but when he pulls back, both ronan and gansey are looking at him with utter delight.

“stop making it weird,” he reprimands, leading the way into the living room so that no one can see the way his face has heated up. ronan takes the couch, lies down with his feet in the air so adam can slide under them, put his feet in his lap.

gansey settles in an armchair, says seriously, “i’m just so happy for you two. you know, this is exactly the sort of fluffy human interest story they put on local news networks, and it’s happening to you. that’s exciting!” ronan and adam sneak a look at each other that says exactly what they think of that, and adam has to hold back a laugh. a transgender fluff piece on local news would probably have a lot less dangerous magic, death, near-death experiences, and a lot more parents and heterosexuality.

“well, i’m just saying that i think it’s nice. things haven’t worked out half-bad is all,” gansey continues, “certainly not as terribly as they could have.”

“you’re right, gansey,” adam says, “we’re just being assholes.”

gansey stays for a while, until it’s obvious he’s just being polite by pretending he wouldn’t much rather be getting an enthusiastic welcome back from a certain tiny fashion disaster. “tell blue we say hi,” adam says as gansey is leaving.

“tell them to go to hell,” ronan adds with a small smile.

the last thing gansey says before he goes is, “i certainly will not.”

after adam makes a lazy dinner of instant mac and cheese and gets opal in bed, ronan gestures to him, says “c’mon.” he follows him up to the bathroom, where ronan starts unpacking the paper bag full of ointment and dressing gansey had left there earlier. he starts to roll up his t-shirt and stops halfway, admits, “my arms don’t really move that far yet.” adam tugs it the rest of the way up and off for him.

it’s not the first time he’s seen ronan shirtless, but it is the first time ronan doesn’t immediately curl up on himself or switch the focus to adam instead. his chest is still bandaged and a little swollen, but he looks good. the context isn’t quite right for adam to get worked up about it, but he admits to himself that his boyfriend is more than a little okay-looking. “you’re gonna have to get used to this glorious sight, parrish. soon i’m gonna be strutting all over the place half-naked. never wearing a shirt again,” ronan jokes when the silence stretches on a beat too long.

adam starts peeling away the first bandage, maybe a little too harsh at first. “it’s january. you’ll freeze your newly-placed nipples right off.”

ronan’s hands come up almost reflexively in a protective gesture. he huffs, “you’re just jealous.” it doesn’t really make sense, but the comeback sits with adam as he finishes cleaning the incisions and changing the bandages.

he isn’t jealous of ronan’s new chest per say, but he has noticed for some time that while ronan seems to be getting more comfortable every day, he’s been feeling gradually stranger in his skin.

over the past few months, he’s been more and more aware of his body with each passing day. maybe it started with cabeswater vanishing or with being in a relationship or the way his chest and shoulders seem to be broadening out. maybe he just has too much time to think about himself now that all of his spare time isn’t dedicated to hunting for glendower. whatever the cause, adam’s body feels at once the most his that it ever has and the most alien from himself that he can ever remember.

they sleep in the same bed that night, eager for more time together even if it’s spent unconscious. adam tries not to get too close to where ronan lies on his back, anxious about disrupting his healing, but he slides their hands together and holds on tight.

they get better at the physical stuff slowly and steadily, to the point where adam would even call it a major component of their relationship, but they stay firmly planted at second base for almost six months. there’s ronan’s weird catholic guilt, adam’s overtaxed schedule, and both of their individual body issues to contend with. adam can’t say he hasn’t thought about it- it’s actually become sort of an obsession. he’s lost precious sleep thinking about how it would happen: what actual acts would be performed, how it would feel, what ronan would look like in that final moment as he tipped over the edge. he’s a planner, and sex is no exception.

but the thing about ronan-the thing about adam with ronan-that he should have accounted for is the recklessness, the spontaneity. when it happens, it’s almost completely different than he had envisioned.

they’ve been having a lethargic day at the barns. no homework, no odd jobs around the farm, just catching up on sleep and heating up leftovers. there’s been a series of movies playing on the television in the living room, but adam has missed large chunks of every single one for trading lazy, sloppy kisses with ronan on the couch. opal had been sitting on the floor with declan’s old lincoln logs for the first movie, but had left shouting and making sounds of disgust once the kissing had started. it doesn’t feel like it’s building up to anything, going anywhere, until ronan comments, faux-casually, “we could be doing this upstairs.”

adam adopts the same tone when he adds, “in an actual bed.”

“with a door that locks,” ronan smirks, now that he’s sure they’re on the same page.

it takes them a while to actually get upstairs to ronan’s room, to remove clothing, to get into a workable position on the bed.

then ronan zeroes in on adam with laser focus, building him up first with his hand, then with his mouth. it’s good (really good), but there are still moments when he starts to get uncomfortable with the attention. he keeps turning his head to the pillow next to him, only to remind himself that ronan is on top of him, below him, not at his side. then ronan will pause and grin up at him, and his stomach settles, and he can just let himself feel good.

when he finishes, ronan crawls back up to his side and collapses, face down in his pillow. adam presses kisses onto his shoulder, his bicep, his shoulder blade- anywhere he can reach while his bones still feel like jelly. ronan turns his head, says, “i’m good.”

“i know. are you looking for a performance review or something?” adam teases between kisses.

ronan groans. “no, asshole. i mean- ugh.” he buries his face into the pillow again, speaks out of the side of his mouth, “you can return the favor tomorrow or next time or whatever. right now- i’m good.”

something about that doesn’t sit right with adam. it’s hard not to think of this as a one-sided exchange, a debt that hasn’t been properly paid, even if he knows rationally that it was a gift ronan gave without any expectation of reciprocation. as if he can hear the gears working in adam’s brain, ronan continues with difficulty, “look, it’s like- it’s- i- you.” he pauses, sighs, cracks a single eye to look at adam, “being with you, getting you off- that gets me off, okay? you make me feel like i’m getting off with the body i wish i had.”

he hadn’t thought of it that way. he isn’t sure he gets it, but adam never leaves something alone until he understands completely. “is that… enough?” “i mean, not always. i still fucking want you, okay? but tonight, just let me savor this shit.”

“okay.”

“okay,” ronan echoes. he wraps an arm around adam, pulls him closer until he can just flop on top of him the way he likes to when he’s on the brink of sleep. adam stays awake a little longer, puzzling out what it is about his body ronan finds so reassuring. in the morning, he does return the favor, and he tries to suppress the overwhelming feeling of smug satisfaction it brings him.

the gang almost always hangs out as a complete group, barring romantic endeavors. sometimes, though, ronan starts to get restless and awful, and gansey starts acting like he’s got a bee in his bonnet, and that’s usually when it’s decided he and gansey need some special friendship time. then things go back to normal again for a while. henry says it’s what adam and blue deserve for breaking up their boyfriends. they say it doesn’t matter why it works, just that it does.

while the two of them are off on their very special friend date, adam meets henry and blue for frozen yogurt at the usual place. at first it had felt wrong to go there without noah, to act like nothing had changed, but a new normal slowly asserted itself as time went on. also, there is only one frozen yogurt place in henrietta.

henry is trying to steal bites of blue’s fro-yo which usually would lead to blue wielding her spoon like a sword and henry getting injured. today, though, blue seems distracted, and ze has free access to her banana yogurt.

“i’m starting to suspect an ulterior motive for this trip,” he says once henry has eaten all of zir own fro-yo and about half of blue’s.

“huh? no!” she startles, then relaxes again, taps her plastic spoon on her lip contemplatively. “i guess i was just thinking about how it would feel to be the token cis person in the gang. it’s sort of weird, right? how all of us are this spectrum of trans identity and you’re…”

“boring cis adam?” he supplies. his stomach does a weird flip and he pushes what’s left of his fro-yo to henry.

“no!” she says again, “i mean, sort of. like, half of fox way is trans, and i didn’t really have friends at school, and now there’s all of us, and i guess what i’m saying is… i’ve never really had cis friends?”

“preach, bluester!” henry cries, drawing the attention of several other patrons at the fro-yo stand.

blue continues, “and i never really thought that a cis person could get it, could be so not-shitty about gender stuff. it sounds weird, but, like, what is that like?”

she’s looking at him so intensely, and now henry is paying full attention too, and adam feels sort of put on the spot. it had certainly occurred to him that maybe it wasn’t conventional for a friend group to be as diverse gender-wise as theirs was, but he’d always figured that was what had made them so intensely bonded. and he’d never really thought about what it meant to be cisgender. he stumbles looking for the right words. “thanks? i don’t know? i mean, what’s it like to be trans?”

“a-damn!” henry cries, “that is not the point of this very scientific inquiry. we are on a journey into the horrific and strange world of the cis mind!” blue nods absentmindedly, but turns back to adam with a strange, conflicted expression.

he shrugs, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. he wishes the conversation hadn’t taken this turn. he says, almost pleadingly, “i’m serious, guys. i’ve never really thought about it. i figured that’s what being cis meant: never having to think about it.”

blue’s face scrunches up further. she speaks like she’s choosing her words very carefully, “i don’t think that that’s the whole of it, though. like, yeah, i think about my gender a lot which is maybe part of having a more fluid identity than, say, gansey or ronan, but even when i’m not actively thinking about it, i feel it? i don’t really know how to describe it.”

this time, henry is the one nodding. ze says, “if i may, blue’s clues- for me, it’s a sort of like being hungry or being warm or some other bodily sense? sometimes i just feel off, maybe i’m crabby all day for some unknown reason, maybe i just feel uneasy, and i don’t really realize it. then it hits me later that it’s just time to try out some new pronouns because these don’t feel right anymore.”

“right!” blue chimes. “but, like, not always about pronouns. some days, i’m just, like, more aware of my gender and my dysphoria.”

“oh.” adam feels prickly, like his skin is stretched too tight, and then he flexes his fingers under the table, tries not to feel that way because that sounds sort of like- he stands, looks at his watch, realizes he’s not wearing a watch, says, “i should get going. i have a shift at the garage in an hour, and i wanted to pick up some stuff from st. agnes beforehand.” he’s sort of light-headed now that he’s standing.

“‘stuff?’” henry echoes, an eyebrow raised.

blue looks worried, but she puts on a big smile for adam as she goes to hug him goodbye. “i mean, if you have to. we’ll see you around. take care of yourself.”

he rushes back to his car and tries not to think about how blue and henry are totally talking about him right now. about how cis he is, how he couldn’t handle their conversation because he’s a hetero-cis-patriarch (hetero?), how stupid he is for never thinking about gender like they apparently spend all their time doing.

adam doesn’t even have work until that night, a graveyard shift at the factory, so he starts the car and speeds back to the barns instead. he really had meant to pick up some of his stuff from st. agnes since he has to be moved out by the end of june, but right now he’s craving the wide open grounds of the barns so badly that he allows himself this small moment of irresponsibility.

ronan finds him on the roof of one of the smaller buildings towards the edge of the property when he gets back from monmouth. adam had thought maybe he had heard a sound like wheels on gravel twenty minutes earlier, but he had been too stuck in his own head to do anything about it. he feels slow and sort of far away, like he’s scrying but in a closed, limited space.

“thinking about jumping?” ronan snarks, throwing himself down next to adam. when he only gives a noncommittal hum, ronan scootches closer and nuzzles his bristly head into adam’s neck. the sensation helps a little, so he brings up a hand to scratch at ronan’s scalp. “if you’re getting all emo over something, could you at least give me a hint what it is?”

adam chuckles before he can stop himself. “emo? it’s 2015, is emo still a thing?”

“punk might be dead, but emo is immortal, dude,” ronan claims, leaning into adam’s touch. his breath is humid on adam’s shoulder, but the day is mild. they sit and look at the grounds of the barns in silence. ronan doesn’t let it go. “seriously, what the fuck is up?”

he gives adam space to speak at his own pace, knows he doesn’t like speaking until the thought is complete. “do you think i’m a man?” he asks abruptly. “i mean, do you think i’m manly?” he can tell it’s not where ronan thought he was going with this conversation. he stills for a moment against adam’s shoulder before relaxing again.

“honestly?” adam nods. “i don’t get much of a vibe at all from you.”

“thanks.” his voice and his temperament make the words come out sour, but he hopes ronan knows he means it. adam has always been thankful for ronan’s brutal honesty at times when everyone else wants to coddle him.

he shrugs, slips down until his head in adam’s lap right as adam’s arm was getting tired. these little intuitive gestures are probably the most consistent part of their relationship. ronan reaches for his hand, kisses his fingers. “is that all?”

adam takes a shuddering breath. “would this all be over if i wasn’t a man?”

ronan doesn’t answer, just meets his eyes with a vicious intensity and keeps kissing his fingers, his palm. he feels like he might hyperventilate when he asks, “and what if i wanted to try ‘they’ pronouns?”

ronan takes a moment, and when he responds, every word is deliberately enunciated: “you don’t need my approval, adam. i’ll do whatever you want me to. shit, i thought that was pretty obvious.”

he knows that. he does, but he feels like he’s still practicing this whole business of agency, of declaring what he wants and expecting to be respected. adam says, “well, i do. want that.”

“as you fucking wish,” ronan whispers, leaning up to crush a searing kiss to their lips.

[feynites]

*drops more Super Sad Frat Reincarnation AU and runs*

The first time Mirena meets Melarue, it’s because she finds them wasted in her backyard.

She’s not quite sure who they are or what they’re drunk on, but she knows the signs when she sees them. There’s a five minute period of contemplation, as she looks out her back windows, where she considers phoning the police. Or making a run for her car and driving to her parents’ house, and calling the police from there. Standard procedure for a young elven woman with a complete stranger invading her property, probably.

But Melarue doesn’t really strike her as intimidating. They look, if anything… chilly. And lonely. And not just a little bit lost.

There’s something about their face, too. Something that reminds Mirena of her own reflection.

She puts on her coat, and grabs the mace from her purse – just in case – and heads out into the yard instead. Melarue is leaning against one of the empty planters she bought a week ago; she’s had the house for a little less than year, and with the kitchen in working order, she can finally focus on making the garden a liveable space, too.

“Excuse me,” she calls. “Are you aware that you are on private property, Messere?”

Melarue looks at her, then, and their eyes seem to freeze her to the spot for a moment. There’s so much… grief, in that look. And a little fear, and a lot of exhaustion. Their cheeks are flushed but their skin looks clammy, almost sick, and in the dark their eyes seem black.

And wet.

“I can’t remember,” they say.

Mirena feels her chest clench, and despite what common sense would have her do, she moves a little closer.

“Can’t remember what?” she asks, gently as she can. She can smell just the faintest hint of lyrium in the air. An elf, and a mage, and a stranger, but that last part doesn’t seem to matter at the moment. Melarue’s arms are burnt. Sure signs of a spell gone awry, although what it was and what it was meant to do is harder to tell.

Should she call for an ambulance?

The nearest hospital is chantry run, though, in Val Colline. Not a bad place but they’ll know magical damage when they see it, and then they’ll report it. That will bring in the police and investigations and tonight, Mirena thinks, she’s disinclined to heap such things onto an addled and inebriated stranger, still clutching the side of her nicest planter.

Melarue chuckles, but it’s mirthless.

“I remember their hands, but I can’t remember… can’t…”

They slump over. Very tentatively, Mirena ventures a touch to their arm.

Freezing cold.

‘On the verge of dying from exposure’ cold, in fact.

“Alright,” Mirena says. “That’s alright, it doesn’t matter. Memory’s a tricky thing. You just come inside with me, now, and let’s get you warmed up. What’s your name?”

Melarue sighs, and doesn’t answer. Not at first. But they let Mirena help them to their feet. There are bruises under their eyes and more burns on their clothes, an acrid scent that’s probably melted synthetic fibres clinging to them. Mirena wouldn’t have thought it characteristic of herself – her efforts towards charity are usually more along the lines of donating old clothes to thrift stores and making blankets for shelters, not plucking people up off the street – but it is what it is, she supposes.

She takes them inside, and ends up heating them a bowl of soup, and running a lukewarm bath, and dragging a jar of antiseptic ointment out of her cabinet, along with several bandages. She doesn’t get to the point of literally patching up their wounds, though. After a few minutes Melarue starts applying the ointment themselves, covering the worst of their visible burns with waterproof bandaids.

Then they sigh, and sag, and Mirena manages to prod them into the bathroom.

She doesn’t consider that they might drown themselves in her tub until halfway through the bath. But when she knocks on the door, they answer. And when they emerge from the steam, they look, again, vaguely familiar. But not in a way that makes her suspicious. It’s more, she thinks, like they’re a ghost that has walked out of a nostalgia she cannot place. A place she only misses in her imagination.

The colour in their cheeks looks a little healthier, though, and the light in their eyes is a bit more clear, too.

“I apologize for my intrusion,” they offer.

MIrena would say it’s no trouble, except that seems disingenuous.

“Apology accepted,” she offers, instead. “I have a spare room...”

Melarue’s lips twist.

“And you would offer to the vagabond you found wilting over your plant pots?” they wonder. “That doesn’t seem very prudent.”

“I am twenty-one and willful, and according to my father, a little imprudence is only to be expected,” she replies, brashly. If she is going to be unwise, at the very least she thinks she should do it wholeheartedly. A half measure at this point would just make her seem like a ditz. “And I know how to burn the eyebrows off of impolite guests, who get silly ideas into their heads.”

Melarue smiles at her, wistful and worn.

“I should go,” they say. “I should…”

They hesitate.

Mirena raises an eyebrow.

“Well it’s not as if I’d lock you up,” she replies. “And I have some work to do this evening. If you feel the streets are more pleasant than the racket of a sewing machine for the next four hours, I won’t blame you. But you should at least let your hair dry.”

The argument seems to stick, for some reason or another. But rather than holing up in the guest room, Melarue ends up on Mirena’s workroom sofa. Drifting off, it seems, as her machine hums and she loses some of her focus in the rhythm of her work. Testing out a new pattern for her online store. If all goes well, she plans on getting her mother to model it. Plus-sized fashion for elves is so dowdy. It is for humans too, really, and she has plans to expand her market. Pretty underwear is her next goal, but her mother won’t be modelling that.

She ends up staying awake later than she meant to. It’s well past midnight by the time she’s finished with the dress, and by then she’s almost forgotten the stranger sleeping on her sofa.

When she remembers again, and checks on them, they’re thoroughly unconscious. Their head heavy against the couch cushions, features slack, arms curled.

In the morning, Mirena makes steak and eggs, and asks if they’d like to work for her as a model.

It turns out to be a better decision than she expected. Her first thought is that she could take some photos of them in her slimmer lines, but as it shakes out, Melarue is an accomplished shapeshifter, and knows how to work a camera far better than Mirena would have guessed. They come and go, for the first six months. Sometimes Mirena thinks they’re just going to up and leave, and she never does find out what happened the night they met. Why they were in her garden, or how they got hurt. But eventually, bit by bit, something in them seems to settle. Their image graces the pages of Mirena’s online store in a multitude of forms. Business booms. A year into the proceedings, they stop disappearing in the evenings. The spare room becomes, unofficially, their room. They start coming along to events. Gracing Mirena’s arm, usually dressed in her best designs, and getting along fabulously with her contacts and acquaintances.

It’s the oddest friendship Mirena has ever made, but in the end it suits her, and she feels an inordinate amount of satisfaction every time Melarue seems to come more and more out of their strange shell.

And if, sometimes, she sees their eyes looking strangely hollow in reflections, or notes the way that their shadow tends to curl strangely in their hair. If she sees them shift and recognizes that there is just a little too much skill, and deftness, and ease with changing their form; if she catches them, one stray morning, tracing their fingers over the lines of their own face, as if they are memorizing angles…

Well.

That’s really none of her business.

Two years in, and Melarue is not the kind of person anyone would expect to find inebriated in a stranger’s backyard. Not unless the most uproarious sort of party was involved first. They seem to love buying Mirena’s parents gifts and going out to the theatre. They charm their landlord into lowering the rent on their little townhouse, and start taking other jobs. Modelling and organizing stores, and before long they’re helping to sell Mirena’s lines in more ways than one, and by the third year Mirena has a proper workshop and she and Melarue are often flying to places like Val Royeaux, and Par Vollen, and Antiva City, and Arlathan.

When she’s feeling whimsical, Mirena thinks it’s almost like a fairy story. But Melarue, for all their quirks and oddities, is not a fairy. Just a person, and a dear friend.

Mirena dates, of course. There’s Elandaris, who turns out to be an irritating disaster, and there’s Nadas, who stops answering her calls after a while. Charlain, who is human and lovely and gets so seethingly jealous of Melarue that Mirena gets bored with her in very short order. And more, relationships that seem to flit by without sticking, as business  booms and Mirena wonders if it’s true what they say, about women having to choose between love and careers.

She doesn’t dwell on it, though. She’s picky, and she knows it. She wants someone who is gorgeous, who is dedicated, who is skilled. Someone who worships the ground she walks on without being a doormat, and who doesn’t feel threatened but who isn’t too distant, who likes sex and romance but doesn’t whine when she needs to spend a week more obsessed with her sewing machine than her love life. It’s a tall order, but the more time passes the less inclined she is to settle, and if anything, the longer the list gets, until she almost begins to wonder if she’s just adding to it so that she won’t even have to try looking anymore.

One of her clients sends her a bouquet of white roses, with a romantic poem attached.

Mirena smiles, and fluffs the roses, and deposits the poem into a trash bin.

“I want to have a baby,” she decides.

Melarue looks up from where they’d been checking their e-mail, in the workshop-slash-office that they’d somehow found phenomenally low rent on.

“What, right now?” they ask.

She considers it.

“No. In two years,” she decides. “Two years from now would be a good time. By then we’ll have expanded things enough that I can make do with design work and a few shows, and the business won’t suffer too badly. And I can actually spend time on a baby. I’ll need to, if I’m a single parent. Unless you want to help?”

She means the last offer almost jokingly; but Melarue’s expression actually turns contemplative.

“Would you mind if I did?” they wonder.

Mirena blinks.

“What, you want to help me raise a baby?” she checks.

They smile.

“I helped you raise a company. A baby seems like an interesting evolution on that theme,” they reason. “Maybe I’ll have one, too. Then we can have a matched set. Dress them up in themed outfits and go for jaunts in the park together.”

She laughs.

Two years later, though, the conversation is serious, and is in fact several conversations. Do they really want to raise a child together? More than one child? Do they want to make a child together? Where would they live, how would they handle the business, who would do what and how much time would they need?

Mirena’s hesitant over the notion of them actually both being pregnant at the same time. But Melarue makes some good counterpoints, mentions that they have enough leeway that, if they moved to some place a little further out from the city, they could hire some help and be just fine. And having the children at the same time means taking leave at the same time, and they have more models, now, more designers and branches that they really could do it.

It’s exciting, in a way. A little unexpected. Two single friends just up and having their children together.

In the end Mirena, picks a donor from a list. She’s not sure if Melarue does the same or quite how they choose to go about it, but to her only-mild irritation, they manage to conceive a few months before she does.

They also manage to find them a little place just outside of Arlathan, with a good hospital and healing center, and lots of parks and greenery and quaint little family houses. It’s mostly human neighbourhoods, but there are a few good elven communities, too, including a temple and some Dalish trade stores. Mirena’s mother falls in love with a little pink house that their real estate agent shows them, and her parents end up moving into it while she and Melarue take a larger home within walking distance of the school. There’s a room above the garage that’s a perfect workshop, and four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and an overgrown jungle of a garden. The basement’s unfinished, but the bedrooms are all on the ground floor, and Mirena likes that. Likes that she can be right across the hall from their babies, and not have to worry about taking little ones up and down too many stairs.

But just when she’s settling into things, Melarue seems to start flitting off in fits of anxiety.

Mood swings, nightmares, and nebulous fears are normal for pregnancy, Mirena knows. Still, it’s a little surprising, how Melarue seems so suddenly ruffled; so adamant that they need to go and get every tiny thing checked out by healers and physicians. And not even just to do with the babies. Mirena ends up having more medical-types prod at her than she can recollect, in an effort to assuage their concerns. Checking the development, checking her, running tests and ‘indulging the First Time Pregnant People’, in much of their manner.

She’s not actually expecting them to find anything. After all, she’s young, she’s healthy, she doesn’t have any chronic conditions or particularly bad habits, nothing to make her think otherwise. She conceived comparatively easily, and Melarue’s tests all come back with nothing but good news.

She’s… she’s not actually expecting them to find anything.

But they do.

Mirena spends the first night, after finding out, curled up in Melarue’s bed. Wondering if she should end her pregnancy. They’d still have Melarue’s baby, after all, and they’re going to raise their babies together. They’ve decided on that, no matter what else is true. But that’s not the choice she wants to make. There are options, alternatives, treatments. Mirena curls a hand around her stomach, and Melarue pulls her up close, and wraps their arms around her. Brushing their fingers through her hair. Saying just the right things, it seems. That they’ll fight for the baby. That it’s alright, they want to try, too. That they’re not daunted, not disappointed. That they don’t think it’s selfish, to risk what might happen.

Mirena doesn’t want her baby to suffer.

But she wants to try.

As she’s drifting off to sleep, Melarue whispers in her ear, in a voice that echoes oddly.

“He’ll be so bright, darling,” they say. “He’s a fighter. He’s got so much fight in him, it’ll be a trial to keep him from fighting himself. But he’s sweet and good and the world will be better with him in it. I promise you.”

It’s a nice image.

“What makes you think it’s a boy?” Mirena murmurs, mostly to be contrary.

“Hope,” Melarue says. “I like the idea of him. Don’t you?”

Mirena doubts either of them really care about the gender, but after a minute, she nods anyway. It is a nice picture. And since neither of them are men, well – perhaps at least one boy would balance things out.

Or maybe two. Two little boys, in their twin pram, and their cribs, and their parents’ arms.

The next day, Mirena heads for the healers for her first treatment at six am, sharp.

It’s nauseating.

She has to go in for monitoring every week, and healing sessions three times a week, to make sure that her baby’s bones develop correctly, and that nothing else turns foul, and that there are no complications from the magic or from further issues. The spellwork on her body leaves her own magic antsy and odd, and prone to strange little flare-ups. Nothing really dangerous, but she ends up breaking her favourite tea mug and disintegrating several sketches, and accidentally freezing a bottle of fish sauce.

The process also leaves her prone to nausea and losing her balance. So she ends spending a lot of time sitting down and reading things, doing most of her work with laptop on the living room coffee table, and her parents coming and going so they can fuss over her and Melarue alike.

Melarue seems not quite sure how to react to this sudden coddling, at times shying away from it, and at others tilting towards it almost like a starved sunflower, grasping for daylight.

Mirena’s father paints the ceiling of their nursery a soft, sweet yellow-gold, with swirls of sky blue at the edges, and makes two mobiles. Both with little round-bellied birds of all different colours, drifting around one another in rising and falling circles.

In the end, Melarue’s pregnancy lasts longer, but Aelynthi still comes into the world first. Screaming his lungs out and waving tiny fists like he absolutely objects to the discomfort of being handled by the midwife. Mirena is fully on bed rest by then, but her parents go with Melarue, and she watches the birth on a camera, sitting in her bed and itching to hold their new baby. Her hands curl around her own stomach, and she waits and waits, until she feels a kick, and something in her settles.

“You’ll want to come out soon, too,” she tells their second one. “Come and see us.”

She has to wait until Aelynthi comes home to hold him. He’s all soft and precious, in his buttercream onesie, with eyes that have settled into his nanae’s beautiful colours, and the most perfect little ears. Mirena has troubles getting over them. They look like tiny pink leaves.

“Oh, Mel, he’s perfect,” she says.

Melarue takes him back, and goes completely teary over him.

“He is,” they say. “He is, he is perfect. My Aelynthi.”

Mirena hesitates, then. Worried, for a moment, because for all their support and all their efforts, Thenvunin is not going to come out with so few complications.

But in the end, he is no less perfect.

Mirena goes into labour in the morning, while Melarue is feeding Aelynthi, and a light rain is pelting over their rooftop and making the kind of ambient sounds that usually relax Mirena. It makes her more aware of the ways in which her body isn’t falling into its usual routines, and at this stage she doesn’t chance anything. Her father stays with Aelynthi, while her mother and Melarue drive her to the hospital.

Her labour is quicker, because they don’t fuss around and instead go straight for the C-section, as per the plan worked out with her doctors and healers. Mirena is awake for all of it, in pain and worried, unsure if things are going well or if it’s all a disaster and no one is telling her. They whisk Thenvunin away so quickly that she panics, terrified that he’s dead, that she can’t hear him crying. Aelynthi cried so loudly. But then Melarue takes her hands, and she dreams that she’s holding him, and everything is peaceful and quiet. A strange little moment, almost prophet-feeling, before it slips away and she finds that she can breathe again.

Melarue goes after the doctors and healers, goes after Thenvunin, while her mother stays and tells her it’s alright. It’s alright, her baby’s alive, he’s breathing, he’s so beautiful, Mirena.

It seems to take an eternity for Melarue to come back with him.

But they do.

He’s swaddled up tightly, but he’s breathing on his own. His heartbeat is strong, and he’ll need some more medical help as it goes along. But he doesn’t need to be put in intensive care, either. He’s smaller than Aelynthi, but when he finally gets going, Mirena’s sure his cries are just as loud.

Melarue puts him in her arms, and she loses any last thread of decorum she might have been holding onto.

He’s here. He’s safe. They have their babies, both of them, and they’re going to look after them.

The vice that first settled around her heart when she found out there were complications feels like it clenches, and then, every-so-gently, lets go.

Their second son has downy blonde wisps of hair, and eyes that turn from blue to green. Mirena loves both boys so much it’s dizzying, if not overwhelming. They set them up in the nursery together, initially, but the two of them keep waking each other up. So before long they end up turning the guest bedroom into another nursery, to try and get a few spare minutes of peace in the house. Melarue agrees to split parental duties evenly with Mirena, but somehow, they always seem to already be awake whenever crying rings through the household in the middle of the night.

And even so tiny, it’s apparent that the boys have their own individual personalities. Thenvunin is the fussier of the two – Mirena also thinks that he’s the least comfortable at any given moment, though, so she doesn’t blame him. He needs little braces for his arms and legs, to keep them growing in the right direction, and even though he’s usually the first to kick up a complaint, he’s also the easiest to distract.

Aelynthi, by contrast, is more prone to staring at things before crying at them. Once he gets going, though, he’s much harder to deter. He also hates being left alone, and so when Thenvunin finally catches up to him in sleeping through the night, they move the two back into the same nursery again. Although most nights, Mirena’s pretty sure that Melarue abducts them both, and settles in with them in the rocking chair in their room; or else in the bed. Sometimes the four of them curl up together. Usually on the nights after Thenvunin’s had to go back to the hospital again, for his check-ins, mostly. Then Mirena can’t sleep unless she’s got him in her arms, and if she’s got one then she wants the other, too, and Melarue always seems to gravitate in, until the two of them are framing their sons in the island of Mirena’s bed.

But once the babies are with them, something in Melarue seems to unfurl, more and more. Like it had when Mirena first befriended them. They smile more and laugh more, and that awful hollowness doesn’t sink into their eyes nearly so often.

Mirena loves them, she knows. She loves them and she’s raising children with them, and her business is solid, and her parents are happy.

Life is good.

The boys are three years old when Melarue heads back to Orlais for a job, and returns with Serahlin.

She’s a little bundle of sorrow and uncertainty, all wrapped up in Melarue’s arms, with her family home burnt behind her and the ribbons her memae gave her clutched in a one small fist. Mirena falls in love almost as quickly as she suspects Melarue did, although it takes some time for Serahlin to come out of her shell. They do up the second bedroom for her with little debate, though, and when their girl finally starts talking more and reaching out, Mirena finds she cannot help but indulge her smiles with kisses and cuddles. Her parents are worse; when her mother realizes that Serahlin loves chocolate, both she and her father start keeping supplies of chocolate kisses on hand.

Sometimes Mirena finds herself just pausing and revelling at the reality of three babies, though. And there are days when she half expects Melarue to come home with more, too. It gets messy and hectic and when Melarue decides to get Thenvunin a pet bird, Mirena is half convinced they’ve lost their mind. Thenvunin getting a bird means Aelynthi and Serahlin both want pets, too, and not little ones either, and that’s how Mirena ends up driving the two of them to the pound and coming back with the world’s most intimidating cat, and a dog that is more fluff than dog.

Both seem like an inadvisable combination with a large, predatory bird, and MIrena worries for the day when they breach the House Pets versus Indoor Pets rule she establishes on the spot, and Thenvunin’s bird murders Anaris or Bon-Bon.

But it works out.

That’s the most astounding part.

It works, and they’re happy.

Mirena brings her children to the workshop, to help decide what their outfits are going to be for their first day of kindergarten. Thenvunin’s excited because kindergarten also means he’ll be big enough to start wearing his ‘invisible’ leg braces soon, which means it will be easier for him to wear pants, if he wants. Aelynthi is looking forward to class ever since Melarue told him there’d be art supplies and construction paper there. Serahlin is the nervous one; Mirena thinks that they might have started her on the Harry Potter books a little too soon, because she’s half convinced that going to school means having to face enormous amounts of danger.

But designing clothes is a fun distraction. Serahlin insists that she’ll need something she could potentially fight a three-headed dog in, but she wants it to be pink and to have a hat, too. Aelynthi has recently fallen in love with suede, and it’s all Mirena can do to convince him that his school suit doesn’t need to be made entirely out of it. And Thenvunin has decided he wants his pants to be covered in sequins and, if possible, electric turquoise zebra stripes.

There are some pitfalls to letting children design clothes.

Fortunately, though, children are also pretty easy to lead in new directions, Mirena has found. Except for Aelynthi, who digs in his heels until she gives up and decides to just make him his little suede suit. He’s going to be meeting with other kindergarteners, anyway, so they’ll probably think he’s the height of fashion. The children draw some ‘designs’ out and then all three of them head out to lunch.

When they get back, Melarue’s home, doing a video conference in the study. Mirena feels a rush of pride as all three children immediately lower their voices before tiptoeing out into the garden to play.

Opting for a break herself, she settles into the living room, where she can keep one eye on the garden and one on the television. She surfs channels until she finds some reruns of Grey’s Anatomy, and then settles in to watch doctors make bad life decisions. After dealing with so many thanks to all of Thenvunin’s challenges, it’s rather cathartic to think that their home lives could potentially be much more of a mess.

She’s halfway through and episode when Melarue finally emerges from their conference call, in the midst of the commercial break. They check on the children through the windows, first, before settling onto the couch beside her.

“Someone else trying to hire you for their catalogue?” she asks.

“No, just checking in our investments,” they say. “I wanted to do some of it face-to-face. It’s good to, from time to time.”

“Hmm,” Mirena replies. She’s not completely blind, thank you, she’s well aware that Melarue has a dodgy past and some even more questionable connections. Including friends who have come out of the woodwork with little to no explanation. But she’s also well aware that asking will probably just mean that Melarue has to lie, and by now she trusts them enough not to pry too deeply. They keep the secrets they want to. So far, it hasn’t cost her anything; and she’s very sure that Melarue would never let it cost the children anything, either.

“There was…” Melarue begins, but then trails off. Thought completely abandoned, as their gaze focuses on the television.

Mirena blinks, and then follows their line of vision. Half expecting to see a hurricane alert, or something along those lines.

But now. The television screen is drowned in muted colours, as a beautiful elven woman drapes herself over some fluttering golden silks strewn across a table. The name of a new perfume is whispered in the background, while the woman looks like she’s mostly indifferent to her near-nudity and her room full of shimmering fabrics.

“What is it?” Mirena wonders.

“Do you know that actress?” Melarue asks.

She glances back at the television, but the commercials have already changed.

“Who, the one in the perfume ad?” she checks. It merits a brisk nod of confirmation. “Never seen her before. Why? Is she a model?” A rival, perhaps? But Melarue has never cared about rivals before. And while she was certainly beautiful, Mirena can’t think of any particular need she’d fill for them. Maybe some of next year’s summer line, but they’ve got plenty of models for that already.

“She’s… I need to check some things,” Melarue declares. Then they shake their head, and offer her a smile. “Not to worry. It’s nothing bad. I’m just sure I’ve seen her before, and I want to know if I’ve guessed right.”

Oh, one of those things.

“Check IMDB?” she suggests. “Though I don’t think they list perfume commercials…”

“No, but I know who’s perfume that is, I can find out,” Melarue says, dismissive, now.

The show comes back on, then, and the subject slides away. The children come back inside not long after that, bringing Screecher along even though Screecher is an outside bird, but Thenvunin’s got his arms full of feathers and is all giggly with delight over his pet’s affection. So she doesn’t remind them too strenuously.

Children need a little indulgence, after all.

Mirena kisses their cheeks, instead, and sends them off to go get cleaned up.

[holylulusworld]

Dancing in the moonlight

Summary: Dean has it all. The looks. The money. He’s the most popular guy on campus. You are all he’s not. Shy. Nerdy. A loner. One day a pair of green eyes land on you and your life changes…

Pairing: Student!Dean x Student!Reader, Student!Sam x Student!Reader (platonic/best friends), Student!Sam x Jess, Meg x Jimmy Novak, Cassie Robinson, Lisa Braeden, Tyson Brady

Warnings: angst, language, shy reader, bitchy college girls, bullying, the reader is nerdy and smart, protective Dean, comforting, fluff, mentions of violence, talk about sex/oral sex, virgin reader/Dean, Dean is a virgin and not afraid to admit

A/N: Sequel to: Water under the bridge

Around four months later…

“Gosh…Sweetheart. That’s… fuck me. I can’t hold it any longer. Am I even doing this right?” Snickering you correct Dean’s position, but he won’t stop cursing.

While Sam and Jess followed your orders for the next yoga position without any problem Dean looks like he’s going to die or something.

“You look awesome in those shorts…” While Dean falls onto the mat, cursing under his breath, Sam laughs about his brother’s clumsiness. 

“Shut up, bitch! That’s more complicated than it looks. I never did this before…” Grumbling Dean tries to get up, but his left thigh starts to cramp and he whines, calling for your help.

“Dean, relax.” Gently massaging Dean’s thigh, you give him a dirty look when he groans every time you get too close to his crotch. “Forget it. Do not relax that much!”

“Sweetheart…” Dean’s eyes meet yours and you sigh heavily. “You’re the perfect masseur.”

“I know, Baby now let me take care of you.” Jess nudges Sam’s side as you press your lips to Dean's forehead. “Does it still hurt?”

Dean hums silently, only wanting your attention, so he lies to feel your hands on his body and your lips pressing soft kisses to his face. 

“I think Dean should train more before he tries another yoga session with us.” Sam snickers and you give your friend a dirty look. 

Defending your boyfriend, you gently rub his thigh.  “He never did this before, Sam. Go easy on my Deanie Beanie…” Now Sam starts laughing and his brother calls him bitch once again. “Do not make fun of my pet name for Dean. He loves it…”

“I can imagine he loves it…” Giggling Jess looks at Dean who gives her a dirty grin. “You do?”

“My girl can call me anything she wants to. Now, how about we stop training and get to the relaxing on the couch part?” His best puppy dogs’ eyes focused on you Dean pleads for mercy. “Please…”

“I will order a pizza; Sam can get the cold beer out of the fridge and you can take care of your injured boyfriend.” Jess orders as you help Dean to get up. 

“Sweetheart, you are such a good girlfriend. You are one in a million.” Swooning Dean limps toward the bedroom you share for two months. 

Sam, Jess and you found a nice house four months ago and Dean suggested moving in together. You agreed that you will share a room two months ago.

You spend your nights with cuddling and making-out but so far, you didn’t take the last step. It’s not that you don’t want to have sex with Dean, but your doubts won’t let you relax enough so far.

“I can run you a warm shower and rub some ointment onto your thigh, Dean.” While Dean sits onto your shared bed he watches you prepare everything to make him feel better.

“Can I tell you something, Y/N?” Poking your head out of the bathroom you nod, smirking as Dean knits his brows together. “I…I was thinking about eating you out…”

“Dude!” Flustered you run toward the door to close it. “You can’t drop such a bomb!”

“I mean we fingered, and you gave me a handjob. I want to make you feel good, Sweetheart.” Dean eyes you up and down, lazily licking his lips as you bite your finger.

“Uh—wait…when?”

“This weekend Sam and Jess are away, and I thought I can go down on you and give it to you good.” Still unsure you step closer to sit onto the bed next to Dean.

“Dean what if I’d like to have sex with you?” Dean’s eyes widen and you can see his cheeks heat up, just like his ears.

You love that the tough guy your boyfriend is still can be embarrassed like a schoolgirl.

“Sex, like…sex…sex?” Dumbfounded Dean bites his lower lip, not knowing if he’s prepared to finally take the last step. “What if I am bad? God…what if I hurt you?”

Crawling onto Dean’s lap you press your lips to his temple. His hands cup your face and press your lips softly to his. 

“I know you would never hurt me. How about we do this ‘eating me’ out thing this weekend and talk about what you like, and I want to try before we take the next step.” Nodding Dean pecks your lips and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Love you, Y/N.” 

“Gosh, maybe I love you too, Winchester.” Rolling you over to land on top of you Dean starts tickling your sides and you laugh, fighting his hands. “Okay…okay…I love you too…”

“Damn right, Sweetheart. Now let me have this shower to relax my thigh and we can watch the movie you wanted to see.”

“Dean, it was you wanting to see Titanic, not me! Do not lie.” Grinning cheekily Dean give you a disapproving look.

“Fine. If anyone asks it was my idea. You’re such a softie.”

“HEY! I still want to know why she didn’t change position. She let him freeze his ass off, selfish girl.” Humming you pat Dean’s cheek as he keeps on talking about the most annoying movie you ever saw.

“Baby, he wanted to save her.”

“Yeah…but why not saving the guy too? I wanted a happy ending and that was just crap! Marrying someone else and dying to meet him again…Idiots…”

“Aw…” Peppering kisses all over Dean’s face you enjoy he chuckles as you ruffle his hair. “You’re such a sap, Dean Winchester. Now up and have a shower, Mr. Softie and we can watch the movie…”

“You can bet your cute ass on that. Make a sad face if Sam wants to watch something else. He can’t say no if Jess or you do so…” Pecking your lips Dean snickers before he leaves the bed to run toward the showers.

“Did you fake you are injured?” One shrug later Dean enters the showers and you fall onto the bed, groaning. “Little cheater…”

“Love you too, Sweetheart.” 

While Dean lies on the couch to shelter his ‘injured’ thigh you lie on his chest, not interested in watching Titanic.

Sam made fun of you and Jess for wanting to watch the movie – Dean defended your choice. The little shit grins widely as he exclaims Jack could be alive if Rose would’ve been more like you.

“Aw…Sam. Dean is such a sap sometimes.” Jess swoons while you roll your eyes. “I bet Dean and Y/N would’ve saved each other.”

“Only if he doesn’t have to share his pie. You should see him hog the last slice. I have to fight dirty if I want to get a tiny piece…” Snickering you nudge Dean’s side while he’s engrossed in watching the last scenes of the movie.

“I always share.” Grumbling Dean looks at you, a dark look on his face. “I gave you my last chocolate bar last week.”

“It was a tiny piece and you had it in your mouth before I had the chance to eat it!” Bickering about pie, chocolate, and pizza you barely realize the movie is over. 

“That’s it, guys. You are officially the perfect couple.” Sam smirks as you throw a pillow at him. “You feed each other with food. It’s disturbing sometimes!”

“Love is not disturbing, Sammy.” Pursing his lips Dean gives his brother a wink. “Rather cute and adorable if it comes to my girl. She loves to hide sweets under her bed…”

“It was you stealing my sweets?” Grabbing Dean’s ear, you narrow your eyes. “I accused Jess! Dean Winchester!”

“I thought you would share with the man you love.” Shrugging Dean smiles as you pat his chest. 

“This means the last piece of pie is mine, Winchester.” Whining Dean looks at the fridge. “No discussion.”

“My girl gets the pie,” Dean grumbles but he gives in to make you happy.

“Maybe I’ll offer you a small bite.”

“As I said, disturbingly cute…”

Walking through the hallway with Dean’s arm wrapped around your waist still feels odd sometimes. He still is popular, but for over four months he refuses to talk to his old clique.

Dean cut ties with all of them after what happened that day. Brady felt Dean's fist collide with his face until he had a broken nose and could barely speak.

Cassie and Lisa, well your boyfriend didn’t hit them, he would never hurt a girl, so Jess and Meg did the job.

You still have the video someone made of the ‘ultimate catfight’ between your friends and your archenemies. Dean couldn’t stop laughing as Lisa started to cry as she broke three fingernails.

Jess and Meg were relentless. While Jess fisted the girl’s hair, Meg punched their noses, kicked their shins until the self-declared queens of Stanford were reduced to little girls crying for their mommy.

The guy pushing you toward the car got arrested and will have to face the consequences of his doings, just like the other guy grabbing you.

Most of the time, Lisa and Cassie leave you alone. There are moments you feel their boring looks or hear insults leave their lips but you learned to ignore those people trying to drag you down.

“You look beautiful today,” Dean whispers in your ear as he leads you toward your favorite tree on campus.

Sam, Jess, Meg, and Jimmy love to sit there with you and Dean. Sometimes Meg brings her guitar to play a few songs while Jimmy tries so hard to sing.

“Dean Winchester, you little charmer…” While Dean sits under the tree you place your bag and books next to your boyfriend's stuff. You have an hour off so you will spend it with your boyfriend and friends once again.

“Come here and sit with me, Sweetheart. I want to tell you something.” Leaning your back against Dean’s chest you smile as he moves his arms around your waist. “Love you.”

“That’s what you wanted to tell me, Winchester?” Smiling you let Dean press his warm body closer to his. 

“I want my parents to meet you officially. I know you were at our house a few times before and that they know about you but…” 

Clearing his throat Dean smirks as you turn around to search his face. “I want them to get to know my girlfriend, not Sammy’s best friend.

“Dude. Mary loves me like a mom and John even kicked your ass once as you used a bad word.” Brow's furrowed you look at Dean and he sighs heavily.

“Damn, girl. I want this whole ‘I introduce my girl to my family thing’.” Dean insists and you nod before you press your lips to his.

“AW…look at this Lis. The holy virgin learns how to kiss a boy. Do you think she knows how a dick looks like?” Cassie snickers standing too close to your favorite place for your comfort.

“Nah, Cass. I bet she can’t satisfy a hunk like Dean. Maybe he’ll get bored soon enough. Someone like Dean needs a woman, not a toddler by his side.” Cassie sneers and Dean wants to jump up, but you hold him back.

“Fuck off, bitches!” Meg warns already storming toward your archenemies. “Didn’t you get your ass beaten enough last time?”

“We can give you more, bitch!” Jess adds and you snicker at her pissed attitude. She even snapped her fingers.

“You better leave now. We want to have a nice time without someone bitching around.” Sam clenches his jaw as Brady dares to look you, a dirty grin on his lips.

“No one wants a boring girl who can’t satisfy you, Dean. Why do you waste your time with a virgin?” Now Dean jumps up to bump his chest against Brady’s.

He’s silent for a moment before he meets his former friend’s eyes. “It’s not a shame to be a virgin and wait for the right person to sleep with for the first time.”

“Sure…” Lisa snickers. “I bet you prefer not having sex at all…”

“Yes, I do.” Dean retorts and your gasp at his next words. “To be honest, I am a virgin too! I waited for the right girl and Y/N is the right for me. I am not ashamed to admit I did not waste this special moment at someone like you or Cassie.”

Everyone falls silent. Sam looks at his brother like he got slapped. Jimmy turns pale while the girls cheer for Dean for being man enough to admit he’s ‘innocent’.

“Dude! I am proud of you…” Sam chokes out while you hug Dean tightly. “I don’t know if I ever was prouder, Dean.”

“How can you be a virgin?” Cassie blurs out. “You are hot and all, not like your girlfriend…” 

Jess waited for her chance and here it is. Her hand collides with Cassie’s cheek with a loud thud and Meg snickers as tears well up to Cassie’s eyes.

“This has nothing to do with being hot or not. I wanted to wait for the right girl and now I found her. This is my body and my decision! No one tells me if it must happen with eighteen, sixteen or thirty. If I want to wait till I danced with my girl in the moonlight it's none of your business." Dean grunts.

“Exactly, you loser. If you wasted your virginity to a random douche it’s your fault.” Meg grins devilish. “We all know it was during a party and you don’t even know who the guy was. For me, it was my Jimmy.”

“Now fuck off and let us have fun. We don’t need spoilsports or assholes around.” Jimmy deadpans as Brady wants to say something. “Go ahead if you can live with the consequences.”

After watching Cassie, Lisa and Brady walk off, you cup Dean’s face to press your lips to his. “I am so proud of you, Baby. I love you.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart.”

“Gosh, your kids will be as cute as hell.” Meg claps her hands looking at Dean and you. “Now little love-birds let Aunt Meg tell you everything about flowers and bees…”

Tags will be added in the reblog.

[pejifukurou]

"Oh, Adrian, there you are. I was wondering where you had gone off to." She smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to the other's cheek.

"I’m sorry, Mother," he said, returning the smile. "I didn't mean to be gone for so long."

"You're alright, dear," she assured him. "But, I am curious as to where you had wandered off to."

"I was... around."

"Around?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Around."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Very well. I won't pry. You're all grown now, you knew what you were doing."

"I wasn't getting into any trouble, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know you weren't, but you know how mothers are. You'll be off living your own life and I'll still be worrying about my little boy."

Adrian scowled, looking away. "Mother," he whined, but he soon smiled again when she cupped his face with a hand.

"You know it's true."

"... I know."

She pulled away, returning to the various things she had before her on the wooden table. A variety of bottles, jars, and vials, each filled with different colored liquids, herbs, seeds, pieces of fruits, and combinations of them all--some where all mixed together into ointments, others were ground into a fine powder, and others were simply placed all together in whole, creating a mess of ingredients. He watched her pick out certain ones, carefully examining and thinking about each before placing them into a woven hand basket. He was always intrigued by this process, ever since he was a child. Something about how his mother regarded every little thing and took time to pick and choose what she would place in the basket fascinated him--what was she looking for? How did she know what she needed? Had she ever been wrong before? Or was she just so smart she always knew exactly what to bring?

She had tried to teach him how to create the various concoctions once, but he ended up making things that would have harmed you instead of helped you. He could make things to take care of the most basic of ailments, but that was it. Although he liked to watch her work, being a doctor just wasn't for him.

"Are you going into town?" he asked, watching her pick out the last of her supplies, filling her basket to the brim.

She nodded, putting away the things she had decided against. "I want to check in on some villagers and see how they're doing. With the first snows coming, some may want something for the illnesses it'll bring with it."

"Let me come with you," he said, taking the basket before she could. "So you don't have to travel alone."

"That's very sweet of you, dear," she said, smiling at him. "I'd be delighted if you came with me."

"Very well." He turned, offering his arm to her. "Shall we?"

She stepped toward him, looping her arm around his. "Yes, lets."

---

Despite it already being deep into fall, it was a surprisingly warm day. The square was bustling with activity, townsfolk hurrying about and making sure they all had what they needed for the winter that would soon be at their doorsteps. Butchers, farmers, tailors, and wares traders were all busy, and so was the doctor. She hurried about attending to everyone who came to see her about one ailment or another--sore throats, headaches, colds, broken limbs, cuts; anything you could name, she had already treated someone with a similar condition at least three other times that day.

When Adrian was younger he used to stand beside her, bringing her what she needed and taking the payments from those she helped to put them safely away. He remembered all the little comments he got, about how cute he was or how sweet it was of him to help his mother out. Those who came by regularly sometimes brought him sweets or toys--they were small, but he loved them anyway. Although he was much older now, he still helped out if there were a lot of people waiting to see his mother. He wasn't able to help with the more severe cases, but he knew how to treat things like colds, allergies, minor injuries--the simple things.

The sweets and toys stopped coming in but the words of gratitude were enough for both of them. His mother never actually requested payment. The townsfolk would bring things themselves, insistent on repaying her somehow, be it coin, food, or wares. She would take them out of courtesy, but she knew she did not need it. They had always been well off, even during the winter, somehow.

He knew it had something to do with his father. He always made sure they were alright, one way or another.

As the crowds began to slow down as the day went on, the sun had begun to set when they finally found a moment to rest. His mother took one of the breads they had been given, and split it, giving one half to her son. They were silent as they ate, listening to the sounds of the square around them. Adrian liked to watch the people as the passed by, as they traded their goods for other things. He wasn't sure why; his mother had told him he had always been a watcher, as she put it. It simply meant he liked to be aware of his surroundings, some subconscious thing to be aware of things out of the ordinary.

Something he inherited from his father, she said.

"When do you think he will be back," he asked, still scanning the people. His eyes rested on a group of young women for a moment, having caught his attention by how they were conversing with each other and shooting glances at his mother's stall--no, not the stall. At him. When one noticed him staring at them, she turned away, flustered. She appeared to say something to the others, and they all looked back at him, only to hurry away, seemingly embarrassed that they had been caught.

"Who?"

"Father."

His mother paused, no doubt counting the days his father had been gone. It would soon be two months since he left on another trip--to see the world and travel as a man, he had told Adrian. That it was something he had promised his mother. It was one of his longest trips, however, and he was beginning to grow worried, considering...

"He should be home tonight," she continued, smiling at the thought of it. "If not tonight, then tomorrow for sure."

Adrian nodded, taking another bite from his bread. It wasn't necessarily that he missed his father and wanted him back soon, he was just... wondering. Unlike his mother, his father came off as cold and stern, and at times was overly strict with Adrian. Now that he was older he understood why that was, but at the time, it seemed as if his father simply disliked him. Even though he knew that wasn't true, and his father had said so multiple times as well, he still felt as if it was true, at the back of his mind, for whatever reason.

Still, he did love his father, and he was missing the nightly outings he would have with him, where they simply wandered the woods together. There was never much conversation, but it was nice, considering night time was the only time Adrian could spend with him.

It was strange, when he thought about it--spending all of the day time with his mother, and once the sun set he spent most of the night time with his father. It was as if they were just passing him off. It was rare for all three of them to spend time together.

He wished they did it more often.

"Sweetheart, will you help me pack up what's left?" His mother said, pulling him from his thoughts. "I think we should get home, in case he does come home tonight."

Adrian nodded, shoving the last bit of bread into his mouth and moving to clean up whatever vials and jars were left, putting them back into the woven basket. Just as he was finishing up, he spotted an elderly woman hurry up to the stall. He had seen her before. She came by regularly and was always so grateful for the work his mother did for her and her family. This time, she did not seem to be coming over to simply greet them--she seemed distraught, horrified even.

"Lisa!"

It was even in her voice and Adrian found himself on edge, watching his mother as she stepped out of the stall to speak with the other, asking if she was alright. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he could tell she was frantic as she told something to his mother, and he watched as the color seemed to drain from her face.

"I would've come sooner, but--"

"No, thank you. You should go before they find you here."

The older woman hurried away, giving him a saddened look. Something was wrong and Adrian felt sick to his stomach, especially when his mother came to her, her face still pale.

"What's wrong," he asked, concerned.

"We need to get home. Now."

"Mother--"

"Come on, Adrian." She didn't give him a chance to answer, taking his arm and pulling him out of the small stall, not even glancing at the basket or the various items they had been given, leaving them behind. She lead them away from the square and down one of the many streets, but as they left, Adrian saw a group of armed men enter the square. They asked one of the local merchants something, and they pointed to his mother's stall. They disappeared from view as he was pulled around a corner. His mother was practically running as she lead him along.

He had seen their attire before--once, when he was a young child, during one of his first trips into the town. His mother had, just like now, tried to hurry him away when they walked into the square. He saw them approach a women with her children, and they grabbed her without warning and took her away. They only pushed the children aside as they cried and screamed for their mother to be let go. Eventually, others present grabbed them, hushing them as the woman was taken away, crying out and screaming.

He heard the screams echo in his head all the way back home.

He wasn't allowed to go back into town until months later, when the incident was a faded memory in the minds of his parents. (1/3)