#the fucking dread and anxiety about loosing my job when she was like “it's not just the company that will choose if you get to stay but”

[usersewis]

I need someone to take a bat or smth and beat me so my anxious feelings understand that it's their cue to leave me

[gwaeddblaidd]

Feed the Wolf Chapter 4: Monster (Excerpt)

I return to the waking world with what feels like an electric shock coursing through my system. I would’ve jumped right out of my skin if it weren’t for the restraints keeping me tied in place. Wait, restraints? I look down. I find myself sitting upright in a chair, my arms pinned to its own by cold metal chains wrapped around my wrists and torso. I jerk my arms upwards, testing the hold of the chains, but find that they’re wrapped very securely. Whoever tied me up… This isn’t their first rodeo, that’s for sure. My mind races. What is this, a kidnapping? If so, who would even have a reason to kidnap me, let alone the nerve? It just doesn’t make sense. I’m no one at Nevermore, a loner amongst my own kind and just another werewolf to everyone else. My family is relatively unknown and I’ve never made any waves, so what the fuck is going on?

A deep breath calms my hundred-mile-an-hour stream of thoughts, the logical part of my brain demanding silence; wild speculation will get me nowhere. The last thing I remember is falling asleep next to Enid. Where is she, anyway? A procession of dark thoughts floods my mind and again the pragmatist in me is forced to put an end to the speculation, forcibly shutting up the voices of my anxiety, fear and dread. Such emotions serve a purpose, whether we care to admit it or not, but right now they’re a hindrance above anything else. Much like the fight-or-flight response, I need to direct my limited supply of energy to where it is most likely to be of use. The intrusive thoughts can wait until later; all I need right now are the facts. My senses are coming down from their heightened states due to the passing of the full moon, leaving my perception of the world somewhat hazy. But, if I focus, I know that they won’t fail me.

First: touch. When I wolfed out, I was naked, but now I find myself fully clothed, if a little messily. My jeans aren’t buttoned and my shoes feel loose, the laces presumably untied, and I’m not wearing the jacket I brought with me to our meeting. If I had to guess, I’d say that someone else must have dressed me, and they didn’t care enough to do the job especially well. Even without the jacket though, it’s clear that these are the clothes I was wearing before wolfing out – not the spares from my rucksack. I left those in Enid’s bathroom, meaning whoever dressed me must have had access to her and Wednesday’s room. Aside from clothes, I don’t feel any injuries – well, at least not any new ones – which suggests I wasn’t taken by force. Was my wolf lured here? Or, was I carried when I was asleep?

Second: sight. I find myself in a small room, the floor, walls and roof all made of old, greying wood. Daylight streams in from frosted, paned windows at the top of the large double doors ahead of me, painting the room in a slightly eerie blue light. The walls are plastered with drawings and paintings of all manner of media; ink, oil and charcoal chief among them. Out of the corner of my eye I can see a standing easel holding a large canvas, its contents covered by an old sheet plastered with brush marks and paint stains. The floor, too, is practically rainbow-coloured due to the blots of pigment painting the planks. Clearly, this is an art studio of sorts. The question then, is whose?

Third: taste. A somewhat distant metallic taste is present in my mouth – blood, but it isn’t mine and it isn’t Enid’s. In fact, the blood isn’t that of a human or any outcast breed; it’s that of an animal. That’s a relief, for sure, though I’d rather my mouth was clean lest it distract me from my surroundings. As I breathe in, the air is surprisingly fresh. I taste the morning dew on grass nearby, as well as hints of soil and fallen leaves compacted on the forest floor. So, we’re out in the woods, then? Knowing that doesn’t help all that much, though; Jericho and Nevermore both are surrounded by thick swathes of woodland on all sides, so I could be just about anywhere within a several mile radius of the town.

Fourth: smell. Art supplies dominate the palate of the room, the air thick with the scent of paints, chalk and other artsy stuff that I can’t pick out by smell alone. Slightly less prominent is the scent of flowers, spices and minerals; whoever owns this place must dabble in the mixing of their own pigments. More subtle still is the smell of mould and slightly rotted wood. Although the room isn’t clean, it is tidy for the most part, but it seems the owner has failed to address such structural issues as rotting support beams in the ceiling. If I needed any further confirmation that the room is its own free-standing structure, mould and rot in the rafters – say, due to a leaky roof – is more than enough.

Fifth and final: hearing. The room is silent. The area outside the room is silent. As far as I can tell, nothing but silence exists for miles. Either we’re in the middle of nowhere, my estimate for the time of day was off, or both. If we are in the woods as I suspect, though, why can I hear no signs of wildlife? Even if most woodland animals, prey and predator both, had fled the area due to my scent, I would still expect to hear the morning chatter of birdsong. Birds have never really avoided me like mammals do, and I can’t help but wonder what would have caused their vacation. As I shut my eyes and hold my breath, straining my ears to pick up on the slightest sign of life, I hear it. It’s not especially significant, but I can hear someone, or something, breathing. The breaths are shallow but measured, coming from some distance beyond the door in front of me.

I fight the urge to call out for help. If it’s an animal, there’s not much point; if it’s a person, there’s a decent chance they’re responsible for my current predicament. Even if the breathing does belong to my kidnapper, does remaining silent help me at all? Is it better to let them know that I’m awake so that we can move on to the torture, murder or whatever else they have planned? I consider what I know so far. I’m chained to a chair in what I can best describe as a shed converted to an art studio, and so far as I can tell there’s nothing I can really do to escape. My wolf is sound asleep, having tired itself out during the full moon, so I can’t rely on its strength to aid me. The shed is somewhere out in the wilderness, and it appears to be mid-to-early morning based on the colour of the light and the smell of dew outside. The only living beings in the vicinity are myself and whatever’s breathing outside, a deathly silence having fallen upon our surroundings. So, what do I do? What can I do?

Footsteps. They’re so very quiet and distant, but the sound of dried leaves and twigs crunching underfoot is unmistakable. The falling of feet comes closer, the breathing growing louder in tandem, and I realise that my solitude isn’t going to last much longer. I count the steps as the distance between us closes. Ten steps. Fifteen steps. As the eighteenth footstep graces my ears, a shadow comes into view through the window – it’s definitely a person. I hear the sound of metal against metal – perhaps a key entering a padlock – followed by the fumbling of a chain that soon drops to the ground with a hollow thud. A hand grips the door handle and the wood begins to creak. I brace myself for the worst. The door opens outwards…

---

Title: Feed the Wolf

Fandom: Wednesday

Rating: T

Chapters: 7 of 12

Links: AO3, FF.net

Summary: As the dust settles on the Hyde incident, Nevermore is slowly but surely returning to a calmer, safer state. But for those involved, the scars may take a while longer to fully heal. Gelert Davies, a half-werewolf student, has always kept himself out of trouble as best he could, but a chance encounter will test his resolve and force him to face parts of himself long abandoned.

Tags: Enid Sinclair, Wednesday Addams, Original Character(s), Enid Sinclair/Original Male Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Wolf Instincts, Loss of Control, Injury Recovery, Self-Hatred, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Courting Rituals, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, POV First Person

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day! :)

[themanip]

late nights

SUMMARY — you and bang chan are both equally as stressed out. your solution?  sleep with each other. boom, problem solved.

PAIRING — bang chan  x  reader  WARNINGS — mentions of stress and mental health problems, unprotected sex, soft!dom chan, mentions of kinks, really soft, really cute smut basically, crying (not sexually), sad thoughts, angry and frustrated emotions, angsty GENRE — heavy angst, fwb, coming-of-age kind of, smut, romance, porn with a hint of plot WORD COUNT — 4.9k, i got carried away my bad

“How do you deal with stress?”

Chan’s question wasn’t ill intentioned by any means, and as you both sat in his studio, you pondered on whether or not to actually answer truthfully. “I mean, you’re the leader of two more trainees than I was, and navigating as a girlgroup is much more difficult than boygroups,”

“Do you want the honest answer, or the more appropriate answer?” you crossed your legs, Chan’s couch feeling quite comfortable. He stared down at you for a moment, the height of his chair offering him that leverage.

The room was quiet, the lights were dim, and the entire environment was soothing. “Well, honest, of course. No point in me asking if it’s a fib, no?”

You nodded, blowing a puff of air out of your nose thoughtfully. “Truthfully, I use sex. It allows me to physically and mentally drain myself, and I sleep really well after getting fucked. It allows me to refresh the next morning, and my stress, at least physically, is diminished.”

You didn’t look at him until you finished talking, and his face was blank. Once you two locked eyes, he sputtered out, “Oh, I—”

“This is why I offered two options, Chan,” you laughed, and at the lighten of atmosphere he giggled a bit too. “I didn’t mean to, y’know,” he stopped, and you nodded lightly. “I get it, but as of now I don’t do it much anymore. I usually just let out my anger or stress during dance routines or working out but it doesn’t work the same, and sometimes I deliver moves too harshly while dancing.”

“Why not?”

You were unsure what he was referring to, and you crinkled your eyebrows. “How come you don’t do it anymore if nothing else helps the same way?” he asked softly, his eyes swimming with genuine concern. 

“I’m a lot more conservative with my body, I just have to trust someone. It’s hard to get to know a guy without them immediately wanting to jump into a relationship. You can’t really do that in what we do, and the second I start to trust a guy things go haywire. I just really have to have a good friendship to have sex, I guess.”

The entirety of the conversation, Chan’s cheeks were turning peach. Even in the dark, dim light, you could see it. “I understand, it’s a very tangible thing. Just giving yourself to someone like that without a basic relationship, platonic or not, is important depending on how you view relationships,”

You nodded in response, and a silence fell over you two. There wasn’t much to be said, but for some reason you decided to blurt out. “If you don’t know how to deplete stress, I suggest it. Just the no strings attached part, because otherwise things get messy and stress becomes inevitable. Just try it sometime, Chan. If you don’t like it, then consider it a learning experience,” you shrugged, and Chan pursed his lips.

“I mean it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, per se. I just don’t know how I’ll casually ask someone to have sex. Most women just run off the moment I mention it, and who knows if they’re even into the same things I am? There’s just so many things to be unsure of.” His chin was now laying on his thumb, and his pointer finger was laying above his top lip. He was deep in thought. 

You stood up, which cause Chan to unexpectedly flinch, and he watched you with careful eyes. “Chris, if you ever feel like you need a de-stresser, you know where to find me. Nothing will be weird unless you make it weird. Or we can always just talk, either way, I’m here. I have to go before Sumna comes and drags me out of here, but seriously. Whatever you need, no strings attached. Nothing leaves this room,” you mentioned softly, and his eyes widened at his English name. It’s rather rare you used it, so he pondered the specific use of it in this scenario.

“Thank you,” he muttered simply, and he watched you as you walked out. Was she being serious?

Chan and you had not talked in a few days. Whether it was a crazy schedule, you embarassing yourself, or him not knowing how to approach the situation, you didn’t know. All you did know was that you missed your friend. 

You and your bandmates had a hectic schedule today, and as the leader, you’d had to sit in on a meeting with your manager and JYP’s public relations manager. Apparently, Dispatch had caught one of your members, Lanzi, out doing something with another k-pop idol. Dispatch had only obtained two pictures of it, but it was clearly legible on who they were, and what they were doing.

The cost to get those pictures thrown out was much more than JYP would have liked, so she had to sit and get chewed out. Instead of being angry at Lanzi, she became more angry at herself. She had talked to them about things of this sort, but clearly not well enough. It was her job as leader, and she failed doing so. 

After a three hour long meeting, you were absolutely exhausted, mentally at least. And now, just after that, was choreography practice. You’d just learned the choreo a few days before, so for the most part you had it down. As lead dancer, you also had to make sure everyone else in your group understood that too. 

So, thirty minutes into practice, when none of your members seemed to be latching on, you sighed. Your entire job was to simply lead, and do well. Somehow, you couldn’t manage to do that. Once more, you started the choreography, and told your girls to simply stand back and watch.

You had a slight tone, but you needed them to understand that rhythm is just as important as the real dance moves. Your entire body was covered in sweat, and you were growing more frustrated by the minute. 

The way your body moved was no longer elegant, just harsh, angry strokes of somewhat rhythmic actions. You did your best to do it just as you were shown, but the overwhelming anger and emotion in your body was just more than you could handle. 

Little did you know, next to your bandmates, stood Hyunjin and Chan. They had come to ask something, but instead found you dancing your angered heart out. All stopped and stared, and Chan could only focus on the way your hips contorted, the patterns your hips followed.

As the music stopped, you turned around, and your eyes widened at the visitors. 

“We can leave if you’re busy, Hyunjin-ah just wanted to ask if he could borrow the studio tomorrow, and I wanted a word with you, if that’s okay,” Chan asked, and all of your bandmates went silent, expecting you to take the lead of the conversation.

“Hyunjin-sunbaenim, the studio is yours whenever you need it. Let me know what time, and Chan-oppa, would you like to talk now?”

Hyunjin bowed, and gave a quick thank you before heading out of the room. “Yes, please. If you’re too busy, no worries,” and you looked at your girls and told them to head back to the dorm. You were done for today, no reason to beat a dead horse when clearly today was not a good one to get skills in. 

“Can we talk in my studio?” Chan came closer to you, almost a whisper, and you knew this was going to go one of two ways: he was going to fuck your brains out, or he was going to let you know that he did not think of you in that way, and to please never discuss things like that with him again. You don’t think you could handle either, at least not today. 

“Yeah, let me grab some other clothes,” you said softly, rubbing your forehead in anxiety. Chan quickly started to mention something, and you shut him up quick. “I don’t—”

“Chan, I’m getting new clothes because I am sweaty and tired, nothing else. I will meet you in your studio after I am changed,” you sighed, your hot knees feeling good against the cool floor of the choreography studio. Your duffle bag now wide open, you grabbed an oversized long sleeve shirt and a pair of loose jeans. 

You also reapplied deodorant and some perfume so you didn’t smell like you lived in a sewer, the amount

As your girls were long gone, you felt free to change in the studio. Your clothes quickly fell to the floor, and you were now in more comfortable apparel that is not drenched in sweat. Dreading this conversation with Chan, you swiftly collected your things and moved them to the corner to come collect after you spoke to Chan and was ready to go home. 

Guiding your way to Chan’s studio was a walk in the park. The amount of times you’d go in there to talk to him, or for him to let you hear what he’d been working on, was countless. You two had budded a beautiful friendship, and he had been somewhat of a rock. He had always been so sweet, so loving. And you’ve possibly ruined it because you couldn’t think of anything other than sex when trying to guide him through dealing with stress.

Your eyes almost welled at the thought. You couldn’t cry though, not now. So, as you stood outside of Chan’s recording studio, you held your breath for a moment and looked up, letting the tears vanish.

A soft knock sounded, your knuckles rasping at the door. The hallways were silent, and you couldn’t hear a single thing from inside Chan’s studio. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, and you tensed as you heard footsteps leading up to his door.

He opened the door, his face showing no clear emotions. He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t too happy to see you, either. His hair was clearly ran through by his hand, blonde tufts falling back towards his ears. His makeup was done to perfection, light brown tones covering his lids. 

He wore a simple outfit, a loose black hoodie and dark blue sweatpants. He’d changed from earlier, his black ripped jeans now nowhere to be seen. “Come in, you can sit anywhere,” his voice was always soft, even though he could be fuming, his tone would never soar. 

“Chan, I just want to say I’m sorry,” you muffled out, plopping down unconventionally on his couch. “I just, I don’t know why I said those things or did that,” at this point, you just didn’t want him to think differently of you. He was the closest thing you had to a mentor, and he was an amazing friend. 

If you lost him, or ruined your relationship, you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself. 

You pulled your knees up to your chest as he took a seat in his chair, staring expectedly at you. Silence followed, so you continued, unsure of what he was expecting to hear. “I just don’t like you being stressed, and the only way I know how to cope with things is kind of like that, so I figured maybe you could too, and then I offered, and I feel like I just fucked things up between us. I.. just I’m so sorry.”

At this point your eyes had clouded up, and your voice had cracked multiple times. The day you’d had just piled up, and your exhaustion was visible. Chan’s eyes immediately softened, and he felt bad. He wasn’t mad, he just didn’t know how to approach the situation. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, and he stood up from his chair and joined you on the couch. At this point, you’d started full on crying. “I ruined our friendship, and now I’m sitting here crying so you’re gonna feel too bad to be honest with me about what I did wrong,” you were now sniffling hard, and your chest was dense you were surprised you could breathe. 

“No, love, that’s not it, I promise,” your heart pumped blood a bit harder at his nickname for you, and he placed a warm hand on your back. “I came here to ask if you were okay,” his tone was now nothing but soft and supportive, and he continuously rubbed your back. Warmth spread throughout your entire body. 

“I heard about the meeting, and everyone kept discussing how stressed out you were today,” in the dim light once more, his eyes glowed. They were so soft, so sweet. His entire aura was just warm, loving, and nothing was more assuring. 

“No matter what happens between us, you’re my friend, and I care about you,” he smiled softly, “Nothing would change that, unless you like, stabbed me or something,” he laughed soulfully, and you laughed with him. He pulled you closer to him, your head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Chan. I just didn’t know what to do, and today has been really shitty,” you smiled, and let your head fall even closer to his chest. His thumbs ran circles around your back, and he held you close. “It’s okay, I understand. Trust me,” a warm silence encased the entire room, and as Chan now cuddled you warmly, your face was now red at the reality of the situation.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yeah, I just needed someone to remind me of how things are and to keep me grounded,” you sighed, and Chan’s thumb was now no longer rubbing your back. His hand had stilled, and all you could hear was the heartbeat from inside Chan’s chest. He was so broad, and the expanse of his torso provided a very comfortable pillow.

“I wasn’t offended, or taken back or anything when you offered, you know that, right?” Chan spoke out of nowhere, the rumbling of his chest vibrating intensely. “I wouldn’t have known, I tried my best to ignore you in case you never wanted to speak to me again,”

A small laugh came out of Chan, and his chest pushed your head a bit. “No, in fact, I think I’ve thought about it a little too much.”

You pushed your head off of him at this point, and resuming your position before he sat on the couch. You pulled your knees back up to your chest, and looked at him. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to have sex with someone you trust, and I feel the same way. It’s really hard to come by good people with good intentions, and you also happen to be beyond gorgeous. Why would I not want to?”

With cheeks now flushed red, you giggled. School-girl giggled, specifically. You had no idea how to take this compliment, but then the realization hit you. Christopher Bang just said he wants to fuck you.

His face also turned a deep scarlet, and he looked down, waiting for a reaction. “Mr. Bang, the things you say. So scandalous,” you both laughed lightly, and you hummed in response to the silence. “If we decide to ever do something, it’s important we talk about it first,” you mentioned, and now the conversation went from light-hearted to a bit more serious.

 “Of course, but in what way?”

“I don’t know, what kinds of things do you like? I can’t promise I can pertain to everything, but there’s no harm in trying. Especially if it happens more than once,” you clutched your legs, and Chan leaned forward a bit, his elbows on his knees as he stared ahead.

“Uh, well,” he laughed, and covered his hands with his face. This was the Chan you liked, who could make any situation, no matter how dark, seem light and easy-going. “It’s not really,” he started, beginning to look at you, then stopping himself, “I don’t know. I never usually talk about it like this,”

“Well, how about this: I tell you what I like, and you tell me what you’re willing to do. Just because I like it does not mean you have to do it, but if you enjoy it too, its mutual pleasure, yeah?”

Chan simply nodded, now mesmerized by you. His face completely tracked yours, and you sighed. “I have always loved your hands. I really, really like if you’d put them around my neck, if you would ever feel so kind. I really love being praised, I love being called a good girl, things like that. My favorite foreplay is just making out, I’m just a big softie, but I can take rough if that’s what you like. I’m a big pleaser, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of and get some pleasure out of this,”

Chan nodded once more, and his fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around his rings, twisting and turning. “Your turn, Channie,” you smirked, and he leaned back, a smile crowning his face. 

“Well, I really like being soft and intimate, I like any position, bonus points if I see your face,” he smiled, his cheeks burning scarlet. He clearly did not talk about these things often, moreso just played them out in the midst of a high and never spoke of it again. But he and you both knew how important communication was, so he continued.

“I have played around with being called Daddy, but I’m not sure, and if you’re not comfortable with it—”

“If I am that uncomfortable with something, I promise I’ll tell you. Besides, that’s really cute. Rolls right off the tongue, right Daddy?”

He visibily shivered, and you smiled. “I—uh, I like if you’d run your fingers through my hair, not too hard, but like soothingly, kind of? If that makes sense. I also like it if you’d verbalise when you’re, uh—”

You knew where he was going, so you leaned close to his ear and finished his sentence for him. “Gonna cum? Oh, it would be rude not to,” you laughed gently, and you saw the last of Chan’s patience snap like a rubber band. 

His hands grabbed your face sternly, yet somehow gently. “Do you want this?” he asked, the lust obvious on his face. Despite any previous conversation, he needed verbal consent to continue, and it would make him feel most okay with doing this. 

“Yes,”

The room was now silent, anticipation filling your entire body. You’d come in here crying, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d leave the same way; just a different type of crying. 

He pushed you so your back was now flush against the couch, the headrest leaning your upper torso closer to him. “Tell me to stop, and I promise I will, alright? The second you tell me to,” he was now looking you dead in the eyes, above you. Your legs were spread open, and his entire body was in the valley of your abdomen. Both of his arms were on either side of you, perching himself up. 

“Chris, just kiss me already,” you whined, and he laughed wholeheartedly, before dipping in. The first kiss was hesitant, exploring new territory. His lips tasted like vanilla chapstick, and the first few were light pecks. It took only a second before he took the initiative and added his tongue to the mixture. 

You rarely ever used tongue, most of your hookups barely even kissed, which is why none of them compared. Kissing was your weak point, it was a vulnerability. And Chan did not abuse that power once.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against your mouth, your exchanging saliva now making more than your mouth lubricated. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned out, the amount of times he would kiss you now making you weak.

His hands dragged softly, and held themselves at your jaw, a classic sweetheart. His thumb was against your cheek so softly, the pads gracefully rubbing across the expanse of your cheekbone.

Everything about this was so domestic, so warm. His kisses were so soft, and full of love. There was no rush, no push to go any farther had you or him decided not to. His warm hands on your face made you purr on the inside, and when he pulled away, he had looked more beautiful than ever. 

You had no intention of mentioning the wetness that had gathered between your legs, until Chan was staring at you, and momentarily his eyes widened. “Shit,” he cursed, looking around rapidly. “We don’t have a condom. I’m clean and everything, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,”

“I have an implant, and I’m clean too. I just want you, if you want me too.”

Chan had no other qualms about it, and he attacked your face in sloppy kisses. “Here, can we switch positions, my arm is hurting?” he asked awkwardly, and you laughed with your entire chest. It was a normal question, but the way he asked so ashamedly, as if it was something terrible. 

“Sit up straight, let me get on your lap,” you said softly, and he did as he was told. It was only then that you saw the bulge in his sweatpants, and you forgot that he actually had a male appendage, and from the looks of it, he was either girthy or long. Or both. 

As long as he knew how to use it, you’d be fine. 

He grabbed you by your hand to help maneuver you, and now your entire weight was on top of Chan. As you finally sat your hips down, he groaned. “Oh god,”

You took his face in your hands, and started kissing him again. At this point, you didn’t want him to be respectful anymore. His hands did not waver from your face, and so you took it into your own hands. Grabbing them both, so soft and calloused, and placed them as discreetly as you could, onto your hips. Moreso your ass, but Chan didn’t know your intentions. 

His hands pushed your hips forward, now rutting against his hard on. His lips and yours were now in a frenzy, drenching each other. It was still pretty slow, nothing fast paced, just more intense.

He broke the kiss, and his hands now edged at the bottom of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asked, breathless. His lips were now swollen and puffy, and his pupils were blown wide. 

You nodded softly, no words needed to be said. He quickly hauled the oversize shirt above your head, and groaned harshly when he realized you had no bra on. His first instinct was to latch his mouth onto your nipples, sucking softly. A moan left your mouth, and with nothing to hold onto anymore, your hands found his hair. 

Still rocking back and forth, your panties were probably soaked at that point. So much foreplay had you almost throbbing, and you couldn’t wait much longer to have him inside you. 

“Chan, please,” you moaned out, and he bit down on your nipple gently. “Only since you asked so nicely,” he added, and he told you to stand up. You did so, easily willingly, yet you loved the way he spoke to you.

It was almost a request, a plea. There was no power imbalance here, simply one trying to find another. He was so gentle, in everything he did. You wanted to drown in that feeling. 

He pulled your jeans off without a hitch, and eyed your lace panties hungrily, slightly thankful you’d changed earlier this evening. His fingers grasped the sides, pulling them down your legs. You were now completely bare, and he was fully dressed. This was a problem. 

“Not fair, your turn,” you pouted, and his eyes were fixated on your naked body. It felt odd, having him see you like this, but you couldn’t complain. Your arousal was now tainting your inner thighs, and Chan could probably see it too. 

He rid himself of his hoodie and his shirt at the same time, and you finally got a full view of him shirtless. This man was absolutely ripped, and you had to hold in a gasp. His arms were lined in protruding veins, and his abs were impeccable. You worked out, but not in your wildest dreams would you ever be able to maintain that nice of a physique. 

It wasn’t until he pulled off his pants, and painstakingly after, he patiently pulled his boxers off. God, did he have a pretty cock. A bit longer than average, slightly girthy, and it made your mouth water just thinking about it. 

Your first instinct was to pop down onto your knees, but as you were on your way down, Chan grabbed you by the arm. “Not this time, please, I need you,” he whined out, almost painfully. 

As you were on top of his lap, you were careful not to let him inside you yet. You figured he could decide when to do it, and you squealed when he let one hand slide from your face, down to your throat. His fingers, covered in rings, squeezed gently. He coaxed another moan from you as he let his fingers glide down the valley of your body, and found itself on your clit.

His movements were slow, but intense. His fingers glided over your folds, picking up some of your arousal, and placed all of his attention onto your little nub. Small pinprick moans escaped your mouth, and you began to tilt your hips in an attempt to get more friction. “Fuck, you’re so wet,”

Some noise semblant to a mew tried to leave your mouth, but his fingers tangled themselves around your neck further, leaving the sound trapped in your throat. “Are you ready? Or do we need to get you a bit more warmed up?” he asked softly, his mouth now next to you ear. His voice was dark, and husky.

“God, I just need you inside me,” you whined, and his hand let up on your neck, and he grabbed his cock harshly. He pumped it a few times, and spread your lips, and lined you up.

“Beg,” he said simply, and even if you tried to sink down, he now placed a hand on top of your hips harshly. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. “W—what?” you asked, breathless. 

“Beg, I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you,” he repeated himself, and looked down at you mischeviously. You two were face to face, and his cock was still in his hands, and your lips spread wide open for him to see. “Fuck, please,” you whined, and to no avail, he didn’t budge, “please, daddy, I just wanna feel good,”

As soon as the name sounded from your mouth, he pushed inside of you. The stretch was amazing, it was slightly painful, but it felt like nothing on this earth could amount. His entire cock filled you out nicely, and the lewd sound of him smacking against you was filling the room.

His hands laid at your hips now, piling into you like his life depended on it. His balls were smacking against your ass, and the harsh thrusts stimulated your clit. Everything was so intense, the way he filled you so deeply, you could feel him in places you didn’t know he could reach, and you felt like you’d burst apart the seams. 

Shameless moans spilled from your mouth, and Chan was in your ear, grunting like a man starved. “Such a good girl, fuck, for me,” his groans were so animalistic, and the way his hands would hold you steady.

His fingers traveled down to toy with your clit, and he never stopped fucking you. Your fingers started to tangle within his hair, and his lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking, finding anything to latch onto. 

The second his fingers started rubbing your clit numbly, you knew that you were going to cum soon. Everything he did just felt so good, you were just a hole the second he started fucking you.

“I—I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum,” you breathed out heavily, and your legs started shaking. “Please, can I—please cum?”

“Yes, cum for me,” he breathed out in a husky tone, and it wasn’t long until you felt your thighs start to involuntarily shake, and the feeling inside your abdomen welling up. “I’m so—” you were cut off by your orgasm rushing over you, Chan’s fingers never stopped stimulating your clit.

You moaned out harshly, slumping towards him, unable to control yourself as one of the most harsh orgasms you’ve ever had washed over you. Your entire body started to seize, and you clenched around him harshly. He continued to fuck into you, sucking into your neck, and he starting fucking into you faster. He was definitely close, “Where-”

You cut him off, still under the shock of your orgasm, “inside me, please,” you begged, and he fucked into you once more, even harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

He lived up to his promise, as less than a few seconds later, his warm cum spurted inside of you, and he still rutted his hips, begging for more friction. He stroked into you a few more times, now drained of energy. He placed a soft kiss onto your neck, and whispered, “Thank you.”

You got up, and put your shirt back on over yourself, and Chan pulled his boxers and sweatpants on once more. A thought rose over you on whether to leave or not, but you knew Chan would be a skinship type of guy. He would probably have a drop, and not be used to just casual hookups like this.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked softly, and a large part of you hoped he would say yes.

“Please.”

[itstittycitybaby]

Naivety is Enduring (Lin Beifong x reader)

a/n: can’t figure out a better title lmao but this fic is based on one of the asks i’ve gotten. reader is a shy, oblivious officer at the station who’s accidentally been flirting with Lin. 

You kept your head up as you sifted through the streets of Republic City. The streets were almost completely bare with little to no traffic. However, about an hour later that’s when chaos errupted. Your shift started in thirty minutes, but you always took pride on being early. 

Your job wasn’t too important. Compared to the detectives, the actual officers that made rounds, and chief Beifong, it was insignificant. The front desk needed somebody to help keep things under control and dealt with the people coming in and out. It didn’t matter to you. In fact you preferred it. Working the front desk made it easier for you to be more discreet. The quiet and the calm helped ground you unlike going into the streets of the city everyday. Talking to some of the people coming in and out still made you anxious, but it wasn’t so bad.

Letting out a soft sigh, you unlocked the doors. It was dark in the station, which was expected, but in the hall a light was on. It was the last door on the left. Chief Beifong’s office. You couldn’t help but frown. It was four thirty am. Everyone was either asleep or making their way to the station. You weren’t surprised; Chief Beifong was known to work late into the night and the early morning. There was no stopping her. 

Setting down your stuff, you started opening up. You winced at the bright lights as they flickered on. Everything seemed to be there where you left it. You groaned at the never ending filing you had to do. Along with the petty reports you had to sign and date.

Time passed for ten minutes. Then fifteen. You thought Chief Beifong would have left her office. She usually did whenever the first person came into the station but she stayed locked up.

Shaking it off, you made your way to the break room. A pot of coffee would freshen the two of you up. Though, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. Talking to people had never been your strong suit. Especially Chief Beifong. The officers did their best to tread around her carefully and only speak to her when they had to. “Everyone deserves someone to talk to,” you reassured yourself as you poured water into the pot. “Even if they’re fucking terrifying.”

When the coffee was finished you grabbed two mugs. You put sugar and cream in yours. You had a feeling Chief Beifong didn’t like anything in her coffee. If she didn’t like it so be it. At least you tried. Pushing the door open with your hips, you clutched the mugs in your hand tightly. You cursed softly as some of the hot coffee spilled onto your hand. Your hand became a bit red and it hurt like a mother fucker. You made your way past a couple of officers and nodded and smiled at them. They murmured a good morning but continued to chat. No matter, you weren’t as important as they were, you mused.

You swallowed thickly as you stood in front of the imposing door. Chief Beifong never failed to make you nervous. She was scary as hell but before you could chicken out, you knocked on her door twice. Good number. Not too hard and not too soft, you thought. “Come in,” a gruff, but muffled voice replied from the other side of the door. 

Pushing aside your nerves, you opened the door quietly. The head of gray hair that you loved lifted up from the papers in front of her. A brow raised in your direction with a tiny frown on her face. “Yes?”

You fought the urge to fidget and gave the chief an uneasy smile. Focus. “I saw you were still awake,” you said softly, trying not to make her more irritated, “so I brought you a mug of coffee.” Chief Beifong’s eyes narrowed a bit. From suspicion or irritation, you couldn’t tell. God, you wanted the floor to swallow you. You hated it when she dissected you with cold stares. It was just a cup of coffee for fucks sake!

You shuffled your feet nervously as you waited her to say something. Either a sharp “Get out” or a gruff “thanks”, you didn’t care. At this point you just wanted to get out. Chief Beifong’s green eyes lightened a bit. A wave of relief washed over you. Success. “Thank you,” she quipped, looking back down at her paper work. “You really shouldn’t have.” “It’s no problem,” you replied, a shy smile on your face. You set the mug carefully with a gentle thud, and made your leave. 

But you felt like it wasn’t enough. You wanted to be different from the other officers. They were all intimidated and terrified of her. Not that you could blame them, but they didn’t even try to be friendly. You had gotten this far, what else could go wrong? So, with all the courage you had left you said, “Have a good day Chief.” With that, you left her office with a surprised Chief behind her desk.

“Ready for training?” You looked up from the files you were sifting through to put away. The stack was never ending but you had made good progress. It had only been one third of it wiped out, but it was still progress. You could barely contain your surprise. “Y-yes Chief Beifong,” you sputtered holding the manilla file tightly. Her brow twitched and her eyes stared into your soul. Were they always that pretty?

“Good. You’re up in ten.” You nodded, “Yes m’am.” You swore you saw a smirk before she turned around and left you there standing like an idiot. “Get yourself together,” you whispered harshly, cheeks burning.

You sighed as the hot water hit your back. The aching joints and your sore muscles started to soothe under the shower’s water. You’ve always hated training especially whenever the Chief observed you. It was her job but still, did she have to stare? She wasn’t afraid to correct you every five seconds, but how could you concentrate whenever you had a HUGE crush on her? “Fuckin…Chief having to be her hot…self whenever she’s around,” you grumbled to yourself in the empty locker room.

Shivering, you hurried to your satchel to change back into your uniform. The towel around you did little to warm your body. “Didn’t think I’d still see you here.” You jumped. “Oh my god,” you squeaked, pulling your towel closer to you. “C-Chief,” you greeted, cheeks flaming. “P-pleasant surprise.” 

She didn’t say anything as she grabbed her bag. She still had her white tank top on which showed off her toned arms. The cargo pants she wore hugged her ass perfectly. The chief’s normally gray hair was pulled up into a bun. Fuck, did she look good.

Suddenly, Chief Beifong turned to you. You jumped, startled, eyes snapping up to hers. She looked surprised and you swear to the spirits her cheeks turned slightly pink. “U-uh uhhh uhhh,” you sputtered, trying to explain yourself. Grabbing your bag with incredible speed, you spilled out, “I-I gotta go C-Chief! Nice uhhhh talking to you!” With that you dashed out of the locker rooms and left a dumfounded Lin Beifong.

“I fucking hate myself,” you spat in the mirror as you flung your uniform back on. Chief Beifong caught you checking her out. You were fucked. Screwed. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if she handed you resignation letters once you got back to the front desk. You could’t blame her. Maybe you could find a nice little job? Out in the surrounding cities? Far away from Republic City? That sounded like a great idea. You could see it now. Sure the pay wouldn’t probably be the greatest, but it’s better than having the embarassment of being fired in front of your colleagues. They already thought your rank was a disgrace. Imagine the gossip once they figured out the reason for getting fired.

Sighing, you begrudgingly trudged out of the bathroom. Anxiety bubbled in your chest as you left the safe haven behind you and returned to your desk. Maybe she’d just forget about it? “She wont,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“Get yourself together,” you scolded yourself. “We can go home and sulk later. We’ve got a job to do.”

“See you!” You waved, a fake grin plastered on your face. Your coworker didn’t seem to notice though. You hated talking to the officers; they were usually lovely people, but talking to people made you feel smaller claw and insignificant. It was tiring and made you feel stupid that you had trouble talking to people.

Five thirty rolled around on the clock. You still had some filing to finish, sign some mediocre documents, and take care of the citizens coming in and out. Almost everyone had left except for a few people in the station. You were surprised you didn’t find any resignation papers on your desk, or god forbid Chief Beifong waiting at your desk to chew you out. It would be well deserved at least. But now, you didn’t know how to go from here.

Just pretend everything is normal, you told yourself. Oh, if only the spirits were on your side. “Chief Beifong wants to see you.” You sighed, turning to the officer. You hated the pity they held for you. Their face held a grimace as they watched you get up from the floor. “Alright, thanks.” They nodded, but left you to wallow in the anxiety of facing your boss and loosing your job. “Better make the most of it, was great while it lasted.”

Your feet trudged to her door. You felt your heart quicken and the lump in your throat was like a heavy tone. The beating of your heart felt like a sharp dagger piercing into is. You rubbed your clammy hands on your trousers and swallowed. “Enter,” the gruff voice answered once you gathered the courage to knock. Taking one last breath, you gently opened the door. You dreaded the moment the door closed with a soft click.

“I-I’m really sorry,” you stuttered as soon as you went inside. Chief Beifong followed the movement of your twiddling fingers before looking you in the eye. “It was very unprofessional of me to.. d-do that and I understand if you want to fire me.” Chief Beifong didn’t say anything. She looked surprised. Her hands were folded underneath her chin as she studied you. Her green eyes focused in on you. You felt more like a mouse now than you usually did.

“You’re not getting fired.” Confused, you tilted your head. Your brows furrowed deeply. You nibbled your lips as you asked, “What?” Chief Beifong chuckled, “No, in fact, I wanted to ask if you were busy tonight. Maybe get a couple drinks.”

“O-oh,” you said softly, hands dropping by your sides. “Yea sure. I-I can ask some of the other officers if they’d like to come to!” Chief Beifong stared at you. She was trying to process the situation. “No,” she started, “I’m..asking you out..on a date.”

Your eyes widened. Oh. OH. The tips of your ears burned red along with your cheeks. The chief’s eyes glittered with amusement. You nodded, averting her eyes. “Y-yes. I’d like that.” “Good,” she replied, a barely there smirk on her face. “Give me fifteen minutes and I should be finished with this.” Nodding, you made your way to the door. “You got it Chief.” “Lin.” “Huh?” “Call me Lin.” Smiling you said, “Alright, Lin.” It felt foreign on your tongue but you liked it. Leaving her office, you gave her one last timid wave. And no you did not skip all the way back to your desk.

[mannien]

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - PROLOGUE

The one with graduation, daisies and carnations, and a hopeless emotional addiction.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: some stress and anxiety here and there

Some feelings are addictive. It’s easy to get used to the way something tingles with excitement, warms up with passion, or stings with powerful adrenaline rush. People get comfortable with feelings known and desired and more often than not, they turn them into coping mechanisms. Whatever sticks their wobbly pieces together the longest, is the ultimate solution. Feelings don’t need to be entirely positive or with pure intentions behind them. As long as they cover up the shattered pieces, they stay. They may enhance some experiences, especially when someone decides to stick with something as simple as joy. But some make life more difficult than it seems; they mess up the timeline and allow people to feel so many wrong things before reaching the truth.

An array of emotions weaves through fresh university graduates. A sense of freedom and relief is somewhat clouded by fear or excitement. Someone has an internship lined up, their friends take a year to travel across Europe, a roommate has an apprenticeship at their next job. Others might take things slow and see what the future holds, while some students get prepared to have a fresh start. The overall unknown seems to be the underlying tone in the speeches during the graduation ceremony, but each person in polished shoes and with a rapid heartbeat subconsciously sticks to a feeling that makes them feel more at ease.

Students of each program are called on stage. Every little success along the way is cradled into slippery hats and fitted gowns with the university’s subtle emblem on the front. The audience is sitting on the large balcony above the graduates. People clap with appreciation at each young person walking across the wooden floor and shaking the chancellor’s hand. Some receive a more enthusiastic applause, sometimes even a roar of cheers. As the long queue of journalism graduates makes its way through the hall, the names are listed rapidly. Students walk as if they were a part of an assembly line, trying their best not to delay the process of the nerve-wracking hand-shaking and walking without tripping. The last are always graduates with exceptional results, so the crowds are encouraged to clap vigorously. And that’s what’s heard when the eyes of two women in the audience are focused on the proud figure walking on stage: the loudest cheers of the afternoon so far.

“Remind me, why aren’t we screaming for your boyfriend, and the whole department of journalism is?” A questioning voice surprised Millie so much that she jumped in her seat.

“I’m nervous, Thea. That’s why.”

She stated the obvious. Millie Beaver was the one to frantically fix the sleeves of her gown as a nervous tick. She got up early that morning, dreading the day full of polished festivities and exaggerated elegance requested upon a bunch of tired, educated enough people. The pride in successfully finishing her studies was yet to come; her body was rather keen on reacting dramatically to the large crowds of scholars, pupils and their families. The dread of participating in an unrehearsed event like this clouded her brain and made her focus solely on not loosing it. Though she wouldn’t dare admit it to the smiling man, who was just about to shake some hands on stage. The confidence he wore on his face was something she was used to seeing, even in the least favourable scenarios.

“I still don’t get it, how some people are born so talented that they don’t need to work their asses off to get somewhere,” she shrugged, making her tight black curls shake with her head, “I mean, the hours we spent on reading and researching…”

“I guess we’re just different.”

“Different? It’s not fair, that’s what it is. Patriarchy at its finest.”

The comment made Millie laugh and release some of the tension. Her eyes followed Franklin into the side corridor, where a little crowd of his friends formed a circle around him – the star of the department - before continuing into their seats. His cheerful stance made her bit her lip in excitement; for a moment, she tried to forget about whatever was said through the speakers. She genuinely wanted to be feel happy for him and his academic achievements. After all, she spent previous months on watching him get to the top of their classes almost effortlessly, as if he was born to be talked about by the teachers.

Millie felt her heart speed up at the thought that he might start searching for her for a little cheer, or even a tiny wave of support. But Frank sat down and continued to enjoy his fame, and Thea started to pull her up from the wooden chair.

“Come on, it’s our turn.”

She followed her friend and attempted to smooth out the heavy gown. Her light brown hair flowed as she walked, making her nervously fix it every now and then. She turned to the very end of the queue to find Jane, who wore a wide smile. They made eye contact and the blonde sent her a half-smile, knowing that they are almost through the tough part. It calmed Millie to know that she had her support system, not only up in the balcony, but also somewhere among the students of literary and media studies. At one point she feared that her nightmare of falling off the stage will become reality, but as a surprise to her and her close ones, clumsy Millie walked gracefully and with pride painted across her face.

Mission accomplished: she made it through college without falling.

The main floor of the event hall once again filled with students, their peers, and families. Loud chatter was heard across the building as people were celebrating the achievements of the year’s graduates. Some of the groups moved outside and took in the chilly London air. It smelled of rain and freedom, clouded with light grey pillows in the sky.

The three girls tried to make it through the crowds of chatting people in search for the perfect spot to take pictures together. Jane wore the highest heels of them all, so she was designated to lead them to the wall with the logo of the university. In a tight weave of pinkie fingers, they rushed through the hall just as they would through a college party. Millie felt dizzy from the sea of the same black gowns surrounding them from every angle. Some people waved at them, so she kept her smile wide and left Thea – with her one hand free – to the waving back duty. Their secure escape led them safely to the back wall on the side of the entrance, where some of the students usually found peace between classes and sat down on the floor, watching over the busy entrance to the building during the semester. The carpet remembered a lot of spilled coffees and teas in the wobbly little cups purchased from the cafeteria inside. Millie let out a breath of relief, seeing that only a couple of students found this spot perfect for keeping the memories.

“Hey, congrats! We’re graduates!” Jane welcomed the group that was finishing their poses in front of the wall.

Thea laughed with them, but desperately waved her hand in front of her reddening face to cool off.

“I hate your speed in heels. That was too fast!”

“Don’t worry, at least you don’t have to run to the Linguistics ever again.” Millie pulled her little bag from underneath the gown and looked for a sheet of paper with old notes. As long as Jane was busy chatting up other students, the other two tackled the makeshift air conditioning to prevent Thea’s makeup from running.

“Okay, are we ready for some iPhone memories?” The sound of a snapshot stopped Millie from frantically fanning their friend’s face.

“You sound ready. Do you have a tripod or a selfie stick, though? I want to have a picture with all of you.”

“We could still catch that group and ask someone to snap a few?”

“I’m not running anywhere, I’ve just fixed my face!” Thea puffed her cheeks and did a few more waves around them, certainly for an enhanced dramatic effect.

“Then don’t run anywhere, I’ll call my mom to come here, she’s probably out for a smoke anyway.”

“You really want to have your graduation pictures taken by your mom?” Thea and Millie chuckled at Jane’s resigned sigh. “Maybe Frank could come here? I trust his steady hands more.”

“He was supposed to go to the student’s office after the ceremony. Honours and stuff.” Millie pursed her lips.

“Right when we need him! What a boyfriend.”

“Jane!”

“Do you need a hand, girls?”

A sudden male voice stopped the rising argument and made the three of them look into the corridor. He welcomed them with a warm smile and soft wrinkles by his eyes. With a small bunch of colourful flowers, he stood out in casual, non-graduate clothes, yet with similar youthfulness to him.

“I’m not my brother but I can take a straight picture in focus.”

“What the fuck?” Millie covered her mouth in shock. Hesitantly, she took one step away from Jane and Thea, afraid of her next reaction. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to my friend’s graduation, fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m serious!” She raised her voice and made her way over to him, meeting his steps somewhere in the middle of the distance. He was smiling at her stupidly and she couldn’t stop herself from mirroring his reaction.

“I’m serious too, you made it! That’s so cool!” He opened his arms and invited her in, with a small encouragement of his waving hand.

One of the most addictive feelings are those of an utter comfort and safety. This teasing sparkle making your insides warm up and encouraging you to be a little more positive. That’s precisely what Millie felt when she was engulfed in a tight hug by her childhood best friend. Tom held her tightly across her back and swayed them side to side, earning a hearty laugh from the girl who was now, shining. She felt a sense of genuine relief once he squeezed her in reassurance; her brotherly figure showed up, so she was finally able to relax. Suddenly everything felt easy and perfect. All of the stress, fear of the unknown, anxiety about the grand event of the day, and the rest of damaging emotions slowed down their tempo in her veins, simply because she was home. Her smile swiftly changed into more prominent and definitely brighter by a shade or two. As he held her close, he could feel Millie’s warmth suddenly radiate through his body, making his eyes twinkle with joy because of this very girl.

“Congratulations, Minnie Mouse, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered next to her ear, cautious of what others may hear from their little exchange. She did not need any more nerves weighting her down, so he decided not to make a big scene – even though he definitely wanted to tease her worrying head and make sure she’s having a good time. “you’re all grown up now, so I got you flowers.”

“Oh, so otherwise you wouldn’t?” Millie shook his head, but accepted a small bouquet of carnations and daisies.

“Nah, I know you hate flowers.” He winked at her and put his arm around Millie’s arms, tucking her into his side a little too tightly.

“Absolutely. Thanks Tom, I’ll throw them out after the pictures.”

“Go ahead,” He tucked her in even more, making her squirm in discomfort. It was one of their things, to squeeze one another too tight. It made them feel connected as if they were siblings. They knew how sibling love worked, Tom having three younger brothers and Millie being the youngest of three sisters, but it was refreshing to have it a little spiced up. She let out a shy laugh and pushed him away before taking the delicate bunch from him. She lost the smell of his familiar perfume and took a breath. Once he extended his hand to Millie’s friends, he was back to his public confidence and charm. “Hey! Thea and Jane, right?”

They took an intimidating number of pictures; some of them good enough to share with people, other more fitting into a private photo album filled with silly, heart-warming memories. The group shared a lot of easy laughs together; Millie’s girlfriends eased into the lightly flowing chatter with Tom in no time. It made her sink into the bubble of comfort and light; she was smiling brightly when they reached the entrance to the building. Tom opened the glass door for all of them. A slightly chilly air hit Millie in her blushing cheeks and slowed down the pinky glow spreading across her cheekbones. Somewhere in the distance she noticed her parents lurking excitedly at the group and waving them over expectantly.

There was this heaviness slowing her down and taking up an excess of space in the back of her mind. As they were making their way across the university’s main square, Millie slowly turned her head to the side. She perked up at the sound of loud cheers and noticed a familiar group of students. Among them, there was Frank—laughing and hugging people from his department—and he definitely enjoyed being in the centre of attention. She was sure he didn’t even notice her walking by, but she didn’t want it to affect her as much as it was going to.

In turn, what she didn’t think of was the attention someone would give to her best friend: the smiling, cheerful young man, who was shamelessly chatting up Millie, Thea and Jane.

“Oh my God, is that Tom Holland?”

This simple question, raised somewhere from the group of journalism graduates, didn’t surprise Tom. However, it definitely rose the hairs on the back of Millie’s neck. Though he brushed it off and sent her a reassuring smile, Millie felt panic flowing through her veins. They both knew it could happen, but Tom seemed to be focused more on making her a priority, rather than fearing being recognized as the famous actor. He watched her reaction, now fully aware of her boyfriend emerging from the crowd and skipping towards them.

“Hey, I was trying to find you earlier,” he brushed his hand through his dark blonde hair and gave her a brief smile, before turning excitedly to Tom. “Hey man, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“We just went to…” she paused, seeing as he was already extending his hand towards her friend. “…take pictures.”

“The girls had a nice little photoshoot back inside.” Tom cut short his smile, raising the side of his mouth only to her. He accepted Frank’s handshake but didn’t allow it to turn into a bro-hug. It was fairly easy to read their body language; Franklin tried his best to seem friendly with his girlfriend’s celebrity friend, but the said celebrity was too kind to allow his cheekiness outshine Millie’s comfort zone. Jane and Thea turned their heads away at the sight of palms squeezing a little too tight for a friendly greeting. Frank’s friends and a couple other bystanders watched the exchange with prying eyes, and Millie let out a frustrated groan at the unnecessary tension.

“Cool, cool. Can I steal my girl for a moment?”

Frank didn’t wait for an answer, but rather just took her hand and pulled her to the side, hiding slightly behind the group of people. He fixed the tinsel attached to her hat and winked at her, giving her his full attention. He looked at her with his gleaming blue eyes and made her smile at the intimate moment.

“You good, sweetie?”

“Yeah, just fine.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Are your parents here? I haven’t seen them.” She looked around, trying to find his mom’s flowing blonde hair.

“They went to get the table at the restaurant nearby. Wanna join us?” He searched her face and leaned in closer, brushing his nose against hers. Millie laid her hand on his shoulder and allowed him into her little space.

“Why are you asking me to choose between our parents?” She chuckled, but patiently waited for his reaction. “Could we all spend time together, at least once?”

“I told you, it’s not a good idea,” Frank brushed his lips against Millie’s, slowly easing her into him and making her return the kiss. “you can ask Tom to come to the party tonight, it’ll be fun.”

“No promises.”

They shared a few more kisses that left Millie breathless - Franklin wasn’t usually the one to publicly show his affection, so she craved anything he willing to give her. She smiled up at him and let him go, happy that he took the minute to catch up with her.

With one last wave of his hand, Frank joined his party. Although he was instantly pulled into celebratory pictures, he couldn’t help but watch Millie walk away; she joined Jane and Thea in a heart-warming group hug. She was just sweet like this: sticking to her people, making sure everyone’s happy, and embracing all the kindness in the simplest actions. Franklin smiled to himself at the sound of her cheerful laugh and turned back to his friends, but then he noticed the source of her laugh. Her and Tom did a barely-there joyful dance, raising their hands and curtseying to her parents. Alfred, her dad, patted him on the back and shook his hand vigorously, while Millie was being squeezed by her mom.

People from Frank’s department praised him for having any kind of relationship with Tom Holland. Frank watched Tom’s joyous exchange with his girlfriend. Tom was proudly paying attention to his best friend, and Millie’s cheeks were hurting from the smiles. She was content and felt at ease. She was sure that her heart was filled to the brim with love and comfort.

Yes, being addicted to feelings is difficult. It holds people hostage in the arms of the sole premise of positive emotional experiences. It’s also blinding for the addicts, making the loss of certain feelings hurt more than it should. Addiction feeds off the weak, the confused, and the uncertain. It eats them up alive and strives to receive more and more satisfaction. It allows for the illusion of reality, so that the addicts can project certain feelings onto their consciousness. They live in their bubbles of unruly contentment and often forget to look into their souls and perform a regular check-up.

Millie was an addict.

***

Please let me know what you think!

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear @sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection @cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Stand In Chapter Two

Masterlist

Your finally about to film your first scene for a teaser and things have just became real but how are you going to get through make up along side Henry for hours without fangirling? especially when he keeps staring at you like that?

Warnings: Swearing, fluff

A/n: so got a few people that like this idea which really shocked me. I'm trying really hard to make y/n one of us fangirls I really want you to be able to put yourself in this one. Like seriously if I had the chance to meet him I'd just fucking freeze on the spot go red scream and melt into a puddle of goo... I'd be way to anxious to approach him or ask for a photo..Any who enjoy this next chapter xxx

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99​ @thummbelina​ @sofiebstar​

You yawned loudly as you trudged out of your new comfy trailer: which was actually one of those fancy ass tour buses. You grabbed your bag with a few bits in it...Phone, snacks, purse, snacks, script, snacks....more snacks. What?You got hungry!You opened the door wrapping your cardigan around you tightly as you ventured out into the dark it was freezing the cold air making you shiver. A four am start was always a shock to the system and today was your fifth, your alarms on your phone had gone of again and again and again, blaring and screaming at you. Since the whole becoming and actress and Lauren pulling a contract seemingly out of her ass thing had happened a few days ago, you hadn't seen much of Henry and Joey they had been busy filming and training.

You were slightly smaller then 'she who shall not be named coughDickcough' so some of the fight scenes had to be reworked...Yes at some point you and 'Geralt' were going to come to blows in a fight scene and you were bricking it. For more then one reason;

One. I mean come on the huge hunk of a man; the star of every single late night fantasy you've pretty much ever had!, tossing you around and possibly pinning you down? Grunting and growling the entire time? and your supposed to look angry? Hahaha no...

And two. Well Henry is a large imposing man and Geralt is supposed to be frightening in those scenes so...How the fuck are you gonna stay in character and fight him when your simultaneously scared shitless , remembering choreography and creaming your panties....Like fuck that's gonna be some crazy self control needed right there. If you get through it with out fangirling; which would be a miracle in itself you deserve a fucking Oscar. But that's a problem for another day...Tomorrow in fact. The point is you felt a little bad because he had worked so hard before and now he has to relearn it all and he has been working super hard on it..you don't want to mess up.

But that’s not to say you have been idle oh no! You'd been hard at work learning lines and undergoing your transformation from y/n into Keira which was completely insane. Once fully kitted out you would be....Well not you...But it was you, a super weird experience you were sure but you was looking forward to it all coming together. You had to wear a wig, your hair was just a little to short naturally skimming your shoulders. You were glad really you loved your lilac hair it took a lot of work to keep up with it!.

The wig was a bright blonde not as bright as Freya's hair for Ciri but still quite light, more golden then pale it was a strange color, hard to describe. The wig itself fell down to just past your shoulders in large loose silky waves and even though you had green eyes you were still going to get contacts, it had been mentioned that they want your eyes to be an impossible bright green, all the mages seemed to have bright eyes and you were no different. You were dreading it , you'd never wore them and have a thing about eyes...You don't like touching them or other people touching them eyes aren't meant to be fiddled with you know? ...You need them to see kind of?

Apart from that things had gone well the dresses just needed to be taken up a few inches and the rest of the transformation was mostly attitude , props and make up thankfully the make up was mostly highlights and color correcting that sort of thing. You walked across the set following the light emitting from the hair and make up trailer, you could see from here a few people were up and about inside. Within a few moments you were inside standing off to the side unsure where to put yourself or your bag ,it was just you and a few of the make up artists there. Holly was in charge of you, you got on well with her helping her out a lot before all this and was glad to have her as your artist she put you at ease which is definitely what you needed ,she came over smiling and directed you to your seat.

"So! Todays the day huh? Your first shoot you excited?" You gave a nervous laugh.

"Terrified more like, Its not long apparently they need a teaser for the character to go out and to stick in the trailer....I'm so fucking out of my depth it is unreal! Each day has been a whirlwind and I still don't know if I can pull this off...I'm not an actress" she stood behind you combing your hair back looking at you in the mirror fixing you with a look and struck your crown with the flat of the comb.

"Hey enough of that, you got this just go out there and give it your best. Joey was actually stunned when you did your reading he said he has never seen an actress like you before" you frowned looking around at her slightly twisting in your seat.

"Probably hasn't seen one like me cos I'm not and actress but okay I will bite..What exactly did he say?" She blinked at you leaning back waving the comb about shocked looking for words.

"You-hah? I don't even, you really don't even know how big a deal this is do you?" You blinked shaking your head as she was caught up in her own shock.

"Err no duh? Not an actress remember" you huffed she pointed the lethal comb to your face and make a circle motion she chuckled when you flinched and spun round twisting to face the mirror again.

"Talent. He and Henry were talking about you the other day, they couldn't believe that someone with talent like yours hadn't been picked up on. Apparently the way you just...Turned off your own personality shut down your personal feelings like that and became Keira so effortlessly is rare... Said it was like flipping a switch. A complete personality change like that with no prior training or mentoring is the holy grail. Untapped talent I think was the term used. Henry said he has only seen it twice before and that is saying something with everything he has under his belt... So trust me when I say your going to do great" you flushed they thought it was that good? Henry though you had talent.. you smiled feeling giddy blushing a little.You watched as she moved getting some leave in conditioner to make your hair behave itself.

"It's...It can't be that rare it just comes from having to hide anxiety...Can't let people know your having a meltdown...That’s all I was doing hiding a fucking anxiety attack!" She scoffed running a comb through your hair making sure the product was evenly spread through the strands preparing to split it into two plaits to hide under the wig.

"Babe I saw the video there was more going on there..Perhaps you should watch it and see for yourself It really was like watching someone flip a switch" You shook your head slightly resulting in having the comb waked across it again making you flinch

"Stay still! Its bad enough that you fucking washed it! I can't plait it if your moving!" You sat straight

"SoRrY MoThEr-ouch fuck not with the brush!!" She smirked and carried on plaiting the strands neatly.

"Did you bring your lines to practice?" You went to nod but stopped when she sighed tugging on your hair a little keeping the plait tight to your head.

"Yes I did thought I could get some last minute reading...I think I've got them all down tho" she nodded

"That’s good because your wig is a little late, they are dying it again...Apparently yellow blonde isn't right for your skin so your getting a white silvery ash blond now...A muted tone they said. Think its basically going to be a super light blonde with a lilac or blue tint, fucking wish they would hurry up and choose I need to settle on your face tones! Any who it should be here in about an hour" you whined

"I could have had an extra hour in bed?! Why wasn't I told!? You know your job would be a lot easier if I had beauty sleep!" She laughed loudly tying your first plait off with an elastic before starting the other one.

"I'm sure it would but you do know this is like a late start? Some of the scenes your booked in here for one and two o'clock in the morning~" she through her head back laughing at your pout.You stayed in the make up trailer for a while and Holly had called over to wardrobe about the delay so,thankfully your costume was going to be delivered over here which was less running about for you. So here you were in hot seat waiting ,there wasn't much you or Holly could do at this point but wait.  She couldn't work on your face until she had the the wig on you for color reference. She had left a few moments ago promising a coffee on her return.

You hummed scrolling through your phone messaging your eldest brother and Mother who you had let slip to about your new drastic career change. they were trying to calm you down, knowing you well enough that you was getting yourself into wound up ball of anxiety and panic. You were so engrossed in your phone you didn't notice a certain bear trot in to the room until you had a huge snoot wedged under your phone trying to nudge your hands for some love. You jumped so on edge you yelled out as you was touched.

"OH FUCK WHAT IS-OOOH well hello there~" you looked around quickly then seeing you was still alone you decided to indulge and immediately placed your phone on the table in front of you and leaned back looking between your legs going gaga over the handsome boy. Kal was sitting looking up at you smiling panting away as you petted him on auto pilot. You blinked it took everything you had not to squee out loud somehow managing to keep it inside 'OH MY FUCK KAL! I'm like petting THE Bear... Wow he is so fucking fluffy!...Okay girl stop he is looking at you weird...That’s it chill don't scare him away...Good remember dogs can smell psycho....Cool and calm yeah he is just a dog...BUT HE FUCKING ISN’T THIS IS THE BEAR!' you leaned down cooing at him making baby talk as he lapped up the love moving his head to make you hit the right spots around his ears and chin. You managed to get over the fangirling and enjoy scratching the good boys ears digging your fingers in the thick fur enjoying the softness.

"Oh look at you!? So sweet huh?.....Are you a good boy?....Yesh you are! Cute baby! Getting your chin scratches such a fluffy good boy!" You giggled as he seemed to take your compliments to heart thumping his tail a few beats then stood up you followed rubbing down his back as he moved.

He must have liked your attention because before you know it he was climbing onto his hind legs leaning over your lap with his front paws. From there Kal had sneakily gone the whole nine yards, the happy Akita had some how clambered up into the chair with you making it squeak under the strain as he engulfed your lap still receiving his well earned scratches. You giggled at him moving your arms around him letting him do as he pleased rubbing his belly and chest he sat content leaning his weight on your chest pinning you to the back of the seat.

You grinned wrapping him in a big hug still twisting his fur in your fingers diligently showering him with the attention the good handsome boy deserved.

"Wow look at you such a handsome boy!... OH kisses to? Well aren't I a lucky lady" you moved at he tilted his head back licking at your face being a right soppy little pup, out for all the love he could get.

"Wow your lucky Holly hasn't done my face yet, she won't like you ruining all her hard work!" He pulled away and just panted happily then rested his head on your shoulder huffing. You smiled still hugging him rubbing you face into his fur. Then out of the blue his tail began thumping your leg in excitement. You pulled back from the hug and brushed your fingers through his coat seeing Holly and Henry arrive.

"Oh haha. Looks like Kal made a friend!" Holly giggled Henry sighed looking for him then gasped doing a double take when he saw the Akita draped across you sitting on your lap leaning his head on one shoulder as you petted him. His heart clenched a smug sort of 'that’s my boy!' he enjoyed seeing you snuggling the bear, it was something he could get used to seeing. He snapped out of it and made his way to you both.

"KAL! You what are you doing boy? Come on down!...Tin-I err Y/n I am so sorry... He doesn't usually do this... Come on Kal you big lump! Your probably crushing her!" Kal eyed Henry from the corner of his eye pretending not to here him huffing loudly past your ear. You smiled and waved Henry off trying to be casual as your inner fangirl raged pretty much foaming at the mouth. You was thankful that Kal was ignoring his dad as his big frame hid your creeping blush giving you the confidence to speak as you tucked your face further into him as you spoke quietly.

"I-its fine really...I...Y-yeah was kind of worrying about today he I... I think he sensed my anxiety...His cuddle is helping a lot..." Henry stopped his approach eyeing the two of you. He meant what he said Kal was well behaved and gentle but he never cuddled on a stranger's lap, not like he did with him anyway. But he knew Kal picked up on anxiety attack's and it was entirely possible he had wandered in here and wanted to comfort you. Henry blushed a little and took his seat next to you nodding trying to take in the scene before him as much as possible.

"Okay...W-well don't let him guilt trip you, that boy gets so many cuddles its unbelievable... Just..I-if he gets to much get him down...He knows he isn’t allowed on the chairs..hehe not that you can tell... Its best not to spoil him too much" you flushed smooshing your face in to the Akita’s neck trying to hide from the man who seemed to be staring yet again. He moved forward placing two coffees before you then placed his in front of him. You rose a brow at the two cups.

"I-I...ahem I wasn't sure how you'd want it-fuck haha... Shit.... I meant the drink....you-your coffee...Fuck... I didn't know how you liked your coffee" you blinked at him as he got a little flustered you groaned as you reached forward peeking at the cup as Holly moved about behind you moving her equipment around.

"Henry was already picking you up a coffee insisted on getting it treated me to~" you smiled and reached over popping the lids the first black the other with milk.

"T-thank you ...you didn't have to" his face split into a grin as he mentally pat himself on the back.

"No no your welcome! These four am starts are pretty brutal for anyone to get used to..." he chuckled as you moved over sipping the coffee slowly, you tried not to pull a face it was a little to bitter for your taste needing one more sugar but you didn't want to seem rude. An awkward silence fell over the two of you and he sat there staring, you kept taking small sips trying to hide more in Kals shadow.

"S-Sorry for the coffee....Its a bit bitter I know...Should of added more sugar"

Henry was kicking himself as the silence grew, great fucking brilliant the first time he gets you alone and he says something like that!? scolding himself and his own fucking stupidity. 'How you'd want it? What the fuck Cavill?! Smooth why not just come out and say how should I fuck you? Yeah wait a go!' He sighed leaning back in the chair eyeing you as you sat clearly uncomfortable with him there 'yeah and now be a creeper and stare that will fucking help...Still staring mate stiilll staring....SAY SOMETHING FOR GOD SAKE!' That did the trick he could see you were trying to hide your distaste over the coffee. 'There apologize for shit coffee!' That was his opportunity!"S-Sorry for the coffee....Its a bit bitter I know...Should of added more sugar"  he watched with baited breath shivering as you licked at a small loose drip off your bottom lip and gulped. Definitely nervous... Or maybe you just didn't like him? That could be it! you did run from him and you flirted with Joey not him. Henry could feel a lump in his throat and felt a weight on his chest...Was that it you just didn't like him?...He hummed trying to ease the heavy feelings around him, his own anxiety starting to creep over him he clenched his jaw. No you had no reason to dislike him...You didn't know him he would just have to interact with you thats all...Make him self known then? And then? Maybe let you know he was interested...Drop hints?. He straightened up in his seat a wave of determination washed over him he tilted his head looking at Kal trying not to be creepy as shit.

"I err no thank you...I-its fine... Ive got a huge sweet tooth anyway..." he smiled you were talking, albeit quietly and stuttering but it was a start! He could work with that.

"I will have to...Err remember that for next time." He watched you spin the cup and frown slightly seeing the scribbled name on it. Shit you must think he was an ass! It wasn't your name it was his and Joeys nickname for you....Wow how could he think that was a good idea! You must think he'd forgot your actual name!

"I err me and-well that’s....Fuck" you looked at him a little sad. Yep definitely thought he'd forgot...Tinks had just stuck.

"Me err me and Joey ...well joey gave you a nick name so...it stuck I'm sorry you must think I'm a dick" you shook your head taking a deep breath closing your eyes then placed a false smile. For a self proclaimed 'non-actress' you did so effortlessly and supposedly without even knowing bottling up you feelings and slapping on a smile... He wasn't sure he liked it, faking a smile when he could tell he had upset you.

"It's fine...I don't think your a-a dick...H-how can I expect you to remember silly details like that... We did only meet once and you've got more things to worry about" 'and award to the biggest prick on set goes to drum roll...you ,you fucking ass! Fix it! Fix it now Henry! Look even Kal isn't impressed!' He quickly lent forward wanting to fix his fuck up like right fucking now!

"No! No nothing like...I mean its not a silly detail! Your name it's- y/n I know it! I know your name! Me and Joey have seen you around for a while he called you Tink's..Its after Tinkerbell!..A-a nickname just a nickname nothing meant by it!.....We called you it for so long it just stuck when we spoke about you and ....Well I thought it suited you so just sort of...Yeah.." you blinked at him then looked back to the cup.

"T-Tinkerbell?"

'Holy shit! They gave you a nickname oh my god! that’s crazy....Right focus girl see he didn't forget either he knows you knows your name!...Fuck me! life got weird quick' You bite your lip looking at him confused then glanced to the cup Tink's scribbled across it haphazardly. You smiled at it trying to fight down the building squeal of excitment, it was so sweet you it made you feel...welcome? You'd been worried that you being on the job now had put a strain on everyone. It seems as if everyone has had to work harder because of you and you felt almost...guilty like an inconvenience. Kal sat up pulling away from you then tucked his snout under your chin snorting into your chest. You moved ruffling the base of his ears lightly.

"T-Tinkerbell?" He smiled softly as you pampered Kal you must have started getting upset as Kal moved digging into you comforting you. He loved how Kal was helping you when he himself couldn't. He hissed through his teeth nervously and moved his head around slightly.

"Well...Yes Joey had seen you...And you reminded him of a fairy he just sort of started calling you Tink's you know? after Tinkerbell....It fits....Small and cute" you pressed your face back to Kal tucking your glowing cheeks. He called you cute 'aaaaahhhhhhhgggggg! Cute he. Henry-Mother-Fucking- Cavill called you cute! He thinks your fucking cute fuckingohmygod! Yes girl GET IT!...Right okay and chill woooo! Right yep done? done!'

"I...We will stop if you don't like it ...Its probably weird right?" You shook your head pulling away from his dog when you were sure you could pass the blush off as a chill or something.

"No its...Its fine...I-I just didn't think...You know cos of me you-everyone has a shit tonne more work now...Just feel like well..I don't know burden I suppose" his face dropped.

'you what? You thought you were a burden?' He blinked forgetting all his anxieties and nerves overcome with a need to help you, you got it wrong so so wrong he is ecstatic you were now his costar! He cant wait to get going! That’s why he is here nearly forty five minutes early! So he can get to know you he gathered you must be nervous and well...He wanted to be your knight in shinning amour....Or witcher in leather doublet a it were. Everyone who was 'in the know' was just so happy that you’d decided to do this, your saving The Witcher for Christ sake! But you didn't see it like that? He moved over grasping your hand without thinking,it was only when he felt you tense he realized he was touching you but by some act of god he managed to beat down a full blown fucking melt down trying not to dwell on how soft your skin was. 'Why it is so soft?....what does she do?...Moisturizer?.....Wonder if she'd let you watch?- WOAH OKAY THERE BOY SLOW DOWN!.....But she even smells ugh fuck could just eat this woman....Henry! Stop fucking sniffing her...Shes upset and your just here being so..FUCKING ...CRINGE! Seriously!?...Now would be the time to speak cavill...I mean you are just rubbing her wrist staring ...Again.' he swallowed managing to hopefully shake away his thought before you got too creeped out by him.

"No! No don't Please don't ever feel like that...Your not a burden to me or-or Joey or anyone here! Your keeping this going if it wasn't for you we'd all be out of work...I-I am really grateful for you choosing to help...I Love this role-this project and your the one who has saved it!...I know it must be hard trying to navigate all this but please if you ever need help or anything you can come to me ....Even if its just to talk ....Promise me if you ever start thinking or ever made to feel like that come talk to me...Okay I mean that y/n you can come talk to me anytime" Henry watched seeing an array of emotions cross your eyes you were still unsure but he would help. He would be there for you if it was the last thing he did, he wanted to be a colleague, friend, someone you could come to and confide in!

He wanted you to come to him if you got overwhelmed of upset he had already been speaking about the press tour after he was trying to make sure you were never going to be  alone in interviews he wanted to protect you form the more public side that was going to be the real shock. Filming was easy you knew what you were in for but tv? Journalists and critics? Yes that was going to be... A wake up call luckily for you Henry was going to be all over you by then he hoped. When it boiled down to it he wanted to be so much more then a mentor and friend but for now he would work towards friendship and try to get one conversation over with out fucking up stuttering or blushing. You blinked and nodded slowly.

"Th-thank you for saying that-" he shook his head you didn't believe him and smiled what he hoped was sincerely.

"Its not just words I do truly mean it Tink’s...I'm here for you and so is Kal apparently" he smiled when he got you to giggled the moment of doubt truly passed as you snuggled the bear again. 'And breath...Well that went well...Fuck she is so cute with him, I should get a picture...you know to commemorate her first proper day...Would that be weird of him? Hey can I have a photo of you to keep on my phone please?..Yeah okay maybe not like that' it was sweet watching as kal quickly become your teddy bear. The pup seemed not to mind in the slightest just happy to be getting away with blue murder and get cuddles for it!. He had moved and was now resting his head on your other shoulder sitting up with his back to Henry, Kal was basically hugging you tucking your neck and shoulder under his chin to his chest.

Henry smiled nodding cutely seemingly pleased with himself as he pulled back then. He blinked quickly as if remembering something and sat up getting his phone out he was about to speak but was cut off by the sound of the door as it opened again it was then that Holly made an appearance, you didn't even notice she had left. You smiled happy feeling better in yourself Henry's words meant something you actually believed that he meant it. It was nice to know he didn't hold anything against you for all the extra work your arrival had dumped on him.

"Haha! Here they are one wig for you sir! And for the lady!" She placed two wigs on the table in front of your respective chairs, both of which were pinned on two wig mannequin's. You placed you feet on the bar sitting up getting a groan for one Kal who was comfy.

"Oh shush you" Henry huffed a laugh as you scolded the bear. 

"Wow that’s... How'd they even do that?" Henry looked over to yours and whistled. It was sleek and very very light ah blonde you could just see a hint on lilac from the toner used giving the hair an almost ethereal look yet still a believable tone. Holly gushed

"I know right! They said they took into account your hair color now because of how it complimented your skin....Honestly it mean you wont need as much color correcting as before with the gold! And along side this these came to!" She moved producing a small pile of contact lenses boxes. You looked to her uneasy making some weird unconvincing sound.

"Oh hush love~ contacts aren't that bad! You just pop 'em in" you blinked and gave her a look.

"Yeah...pop em in your fucking eyes! That you need to see!...God they can't like slip back can they?" Henry and Holly chuckled and shaking their heads.

"No...They can't your lris is slightly bulged they sit on that bulge! I can categorical attest they do not slide back or get stuck...I promise trust me?" He tilted his head at you and you eyed the contacts 'well he has used them for a while..so he would know' you gave a slight nod

"Good I promise I won't stear you wrong! I normally wait until the hair and stuff is done and put them in just before make up, sometimes the hair on the wig can get catch them when styling and that is a bit uncomfortable especially if they move" you snapped your gaze to him

"M-Move!? B-but you- You just said they don’t!" He chuckled rubbing his hand over his neck.

"I-I well yes I did just say that...W-What I meant is they can't go to the back of your eye...But if you touch them once in they can slip just...Once their in don't touch them until you want to take them out and you will be fine" you eyed him carefully and nodded.

Holly moved about the room quickly switching make up pallets and the woman in charge of Henry's hair and make up came in with her kit opening it ready to get started. You couldn't help but be relieved in a way to have him turn and stat a conversation with her taking the heat off you. 'AANNDD BREATH...well that wasn't to bad? Sure you used kal as a hiding spot but the good boy didn't mind' you looked to the content dog still rubbing his tummy absent minded. 'Yeah the bear was happy, soo your first real conversation with the stunningly handsome Mr Cavill wasn't to bad....But fuck he thought you were cute? Oh boy that is just fucking mind blown! There you go girl you could die right now and be one very happy woman!... And he wants to help you! And you know I do think he meant that....He is very sweet, and he got you coffee! AAAHHHGGG! Like not dinner but the man got you food...Well food it was a coffee...Still he got it for you babe! You go girl!' Your thoughts were interrupted when a cheerful Joey made an appearance at the door

"Good morning! How are we all today?" You smiled at how happy he was. He got a series of replies from grunts to 'fine how are you?' He spotted you and laughed.

"Shit Kal? Pulling the moves already? You know she's twice your age a tleast?" The dog huffed and you petted him giggling.

"Don’t listen to him boy~ you be you...such a good little pup huh? Yesh you are...And your keeping me warm huh? Little hot water bottle....Yesh you are...You an sit on my lap any time good baby~" Henry chuckled out of the side of his mouth trying not to move as his make up artist began to comb through his hair readying him for the wig.

"God don't tell him that, he would never get off if he could help it, he love his cuddles...And snout kisses its why he is holding his head like that by the way...He wants kisses" you giggled and looked at Kal who was sitting still holding his cheek near your face.

"Oh baby~ you want kisses?" You quickly moved in peppering kisses on his cheek. When you stopped you laughed as he turned to you giving kisses back. Henry smiled your laugh becoming something he was determined to hear at least once a day!

Joey watched slyly. It seemed Henry was going to have Kal be a wing man...dog? In his journey of wooing you. He smirked he would help to! It was clear that you liked Henry ...Henry certainly liked you so it won't take to much pushing.

"So Henry...What are you doing here? Your early not meant to be here until five. " Henry froze and looked panicked and met Joeys eyes in the mirror. Joey smirked knowing full well You had heard Henry squinted at the singer giving him a 'what the fuck?' Look

."I-I wanted to make sure Tinks was okay...It is her first day...Dont want her to be in here going through the motions alone we are a team" Joey smirked 'well okay if that how you want to play'

"Thats very sweet of you!, Oh! Yes we need pictures! It is your first day Tinks!" He turned to Henry's artist who had just got the wig on. Leaning down he grasped the witchers shoulders squeezing.

"Can I brorrow him?" She smiled nodding with a chuckle Joey smiled and ushered Henry up swiping the mans phone from the side and handed it to Holly, who took it and stepped back as joey spun your chair around to face her.

"Do you mind? We need to document this, The day the witcher was saved!" You blushed as both Joey and Henry stood either side of you ,They each crouched a little placing their faces next to yours and smiled, Henry had tucked kal's head to the side so he could get a good view of you. Once the photos were snapped Joey looked at them excited.

"Wow! Henry you have to send these to me so I can tweet them!" You blushed as Henry nodded grinning then looked you his screen then to you. He could kiss Joey! Henry now had a reason to get your number, whatsapp ,face book fuck everything!

"I will send these to you...You know if you want, I mean you don't have to if Joey is tweeting them... But I could send them....Only if you want... No pressure!" Joey sighed watching the great white wolf fumble over his words still rambling. Even the other women were watching fascinated as the unshakable Henry got himself all flustered.

"You know make memories... A-along the way...You never know Tink’s could be the start of a completely new career!haha..." An awkward silence fell over the room as henry eventually trailed of with a nervous laugh. Joeys eyes fell to you, you sat dead still shocked then finally blinked snapping out of what ever thoughts were going on you were slowly blushing. You were definitely interested.

"I-I err sure you can send them to me... Here I'll give to my number..." Joey smiled nodding pleased with himself. That worked beautifully if he did say so himself. Henry sent him a thankful glance as you exchanged numbers. He turned as he had a tap on his shoulder.

"Oh god its time already? I hoped to get to know our Tink's...Oh well we can chat on set" he moved around you sitting on the other side of Henry and sat down letting his own artist begin.

You had sat in the chair for another hour or so getting tweaked then had been ushered to change in a sectioned off little changing room. You came back out ready to see Keira for the first time. Henry and Joey stole glances at you

"Wow...Fuck you look...Wow" you smiled at Henry shyly as he kept sweeping his eyes over you seemingly awed at the final look. If you were honest it made you a little self conscious. How could it not! he was; if you squinted, kind of checking you out..In a way? you avoided eye contact willing yourself to calm down as your heart pounded away at top speed.

"What he means is you look fantastic!" You smiled unsure and pulled at the skirt of the dress, your first scene with them was a party so it was very elegant it was designed to be seductive with a swooping neckline and swirling delicate detailing over the collar  it was heavy to being made out of a heavy velvet material you were happy there wasn't any running you'd collapse in minuets.

"Th-thanks...Its heavier then I remember..." Joey smiled admiring the look."You look brilliant! Look Henry is speechless!" Henry swallowed  dryly. Fuck you looked quickly then turned away... Wow... His fantasy was nothing compared to you here in full costume... Henry shook his head remembering every detail to recall later.

"Y-you look...Better then I imagined! It-she....Your..." you flushed a little and moved past him to your seat wanting to sit down and calm yourself being in costume had brought it home you were doing this...You were going to actually be in witcher as a cast member!. You sat down taking a deep breath. You could feel the anxiety .Shit. Kal popped his head out from under Henry and glanced up at you he was still sulking.

"What puppy?! I'm sorry...I know Holly is so mean huh? making you jump down like that" He huffed again ears twitching then he heaved himself up again and sat before you tapping you with a large paw, you smoothed your hands across him somehow just petting the gentle boy was calming you down. Henry and Joey exchanged looks Kal must be picking up on your nerves.

"Yes oh I know... But don't worry we can have cuddles after okay?" You said calming considerably as you spoke to him. Henry chuckled at the exchange and Joey piped up.

"Is he being a grumpy boy?" Henry tilted his head.

"No a needy boy I think... he has got a new favorite snuggle buddy" you blushed at that and soon Kal laid down out of petting distance. All three of you were nearly done...Well you were done, you hadn't until now seen the whole get up together wardrobe and hair and make up had been separate until now. You quickly glanced up and froze wow...This new wig was definitely better now, you felt... you didn't know it was completely strange seeing someone different staring back at you in the mirror.

"Wow....Thats-this is crazy..." you leaned in turning your head this way and that moving your hand slowly to your face, Henry smiled at you.

"Yes...It's always strange the first time in character..." you nodded to him dumbly still inspecting yourself moving to run your fingers threw you 'hair'

"So fucking weird"

"And about to get a whole lot weirder! time for these bad boys~" you whined at Holly as you watched her wave the slim box holing your contacts.

"Oh? please tell me she isn't getting blue? I love the green!"Joey protest was flattering as he and Henry came closer wanting to see, you stood awkwardly twisting your hands in the sleeves of your costume. Henry smiled opening your box peeking at the color

"Hey...They're going to look amazing! Tink’s you get green look!" Joey leaned over and smiled

"Yeah and they have that nice dark ring around the outside to! really going to pop...Well come on girl get them in we have what ten minuets?" he directed his question to Holly who giggled nodding. You gulped looking at the small colored discs warily...

"How? I've never...They're safe right? wont get stuck of something?" Henry seeing another opportunity to bond with you jumped up collecting his own contacts box Joey took a step back so you could et closer and watch Henry's lesson smirking knowingly as a stupid uncharacteristic grin spread across 'Geralt's' face.

"Here look its fine...Just hold it like this...And pinch it if it folds like this..see? Like that...Then its okay if it curls out and has a lip then its inside out." You watched as he gave you a quick glance.

"I-Inside out? wh-what happens if that happens?" Henry quickly tried reassuring you.

"No! its not-it will just be uncomfortable...Nothing bad will happen or anything its just irritable....Right pick yours up like I’m doing...That's it!...See...Then hold open your eye and....Just try and pop it in...You can do it looking down or up which ever is comfy, I'm used to it so can do it standing up right....And if it moved like mine just has...Typical! just look around and....There see! easy!" Henry explained his contacts lesson well, it did seem simple he let you watch as he placed in the other contact explaining once again how to put them in as he did. You watched intently blushing each time he moved in closer so you could see.

"O-okay...So just press it and it will stick?" he nodded and you bit your lip 'come on girl...that's it just like when you do liquid eyeliner stab your eyeball with it!' you looked to you mirror and began to poke your eyes with Henry and joey watching closely commenting as you did so. One Joey pep-talk and eighteen tries later you finally got them in with a tiny round of applause ,It was actually pretty cool, your eyes popped a really bright and had a dark ring that made your iris a little larger adding to the ethereal atheistic.

The three of you made your way out of the trailer as Geralt ,Jaskier and keira. You took a deep breath when you saw the cameras and lighting as you walked onto set.

"Fuck...shit, shit, shit" Henry and Joey slowed walking beside you patting your back. Henry wrapped an arm around you making sure you didn't bolt which you looked ready to any second, had you not been so panicked you would have clammed up under his heavy arm but it wasn’t on the top of your list of things to worry about right now. Joey followed suit holding you around your back squishing you between them and smiled down at you directing you to the frightening amount of people milling about doing various jobs.

you’d seen it all before but being behind the scenes was completely different to being in front of the camera you slowed until you was barley moving at all.

"Come on Tink’s" with his prompting Joey had in fact sped you up a little, he was stronger then he looked. You took deep breaths trying not to freak out as everyone turned looking at the new comer.

"Th-thats a lot of people.." Joey and Henry hummed in agreement

"Well its a big deal...you've been cherry picked from the assistants Tink's word has got around but everyone wants a peek.." Joey cheerful as ever chuckled into your hair as they got closer to Tomasz who was waiting for you all.

It  was when you saw the director that you really freaked trying to turn around but they two men grunted

"Oh no you don't...Come on your fine"

"I forgot my lines" Henry scoffed

"That fine we memorized them for you to, besides why do you think Tomasz made you do improv?"

"O-okay....I need the bathroom" Joey giggled still helping guide you into the huge makeshift banquet hall

"No you don't its nerves" you shook as they continued ushering you out in front of the crew

"I'm going to be sick" Henry chuckled as bad as it was he couldn't help thinking you looked pretty cute panicking like this trying desperately to find a way to run off and hide.

"Again that’s nerves just breath...We wont let anything happen okay? just take a deep breath...Good now out your going to be fine" you did as he had said to focused on the upcoming filming to even squeal about him looking out for you.

Finally you stopped in front of Tomasz who smiled at you kindly.

"Wow...Look at you! perfect! absolutely perfect! Ready?" You shook your head looking around it felt like everyone involved in the projects was hear to see the stand in.

"No...Not really" he laughed and shook his head at you...You were serious....didn't he think you were serious you fucking was! You didn't know whether you needed to be sick, panic ,cry or use the bathroom.

"...Why are there so many people?" He eyed the crowd

"Well you did pull this whole production from the brink of collapse...They are bound to want to see to woman who has stepped up...I'm sure everyone has told you already but this is a big deal...I don't think I have heard of someone completely untrained taking a role like this. Any way enough chit chat lets get to work shall we?" you were shaking in Keira's boots but...By way the two men still had you stuck firmly between them he knew you'd have all the support you needed, once you started it would be fine.

"Trust me you’ll do fine" he turned with a huge grin

"Places everyone! Remember camera four you start now from the top a sweeping motion left you right? good!" You gulped stomach dropping soon Henry and Joey are moving to their cue's leaving you with one final squeeze and your left on your own wondering. How the fuck did this happen again?.

You took a breath closing your eyes tight looking down collecting yourself pulling a more confident catty seductive woman from within. Unbeknown to you a hush fell over the scene as you did everyone holding their breath waiting to see if you could pull this off.

Joey smiled from beside Henry and said something but Henry didn't even hear what the man had to say, he just smirked entranced as he watched you transform before everyone about to prove to yourself and everyone in the room you could do this. Its what you did last time you closed your eyes and when you opened them you wasn't there anymore.

For anyone who understood what it was, it was incredible to watch everything changed your posture , your aura, your presence felt heavy and playful he could feel it from way over here. When your eyes opened you was a completely different person you could feel it here and now there was no y/n; you was Keira through and through. then with a slow count down the scene began.

"ACTION" you smirked holding your head high. Here we go!

[olivinesea]

Space Is Only Noise If You Can See

a/n: I don’t know why I’m doing this. Maybe it’s because I handle change & uncertainty extremely poorly and that is all my life is rn. Maybe I just need to find out the extent of my evil powers. Regardless, you’re about to experience something unpleasant. TW major character death, suicide mentions, guns, violence, you name it, it’s happening. Only positive is I actually outlined the whole thing first this time so I know where we’re going (it’s not good). ~2.8k

Mr. Scratch surrendered. Or did he? Discuss.

It was always the smell that got to him. The sickly sweet scent of decaying flowers. He wondered who had made the decision to flood all funerals with the same noxious lilies. Didn’t that smell make anyone else feel ill? It lingered in the back of his throat, fogging his vision. He scowled at the offending arrangements—ostentatious wreathes shaped like hearts with hollow messages in a stock cursive font. He had been to so many funerals at this point he was reluctant to admit he sometimes got confused about where he was, who he was mourning. He tried to focus on the portrait of the deceased, but the outline kept shifting.

He blinked hard to settle his contacts, tears always had a detrimental effect on their usefulness. He needed to remember to wear his glasses to the next funeral. A twisted laugh threatened to slip, gallows humor at its finest. No matter how hard he tried, there would always be a next funeral. He wondered how many more before it was his turn, before he no longer had to be the one staying strong for everyone else, pretending the smell didn’t make him choke. He looked again, determined to figure out when he was before he was required to do anything, before he let on that he wasn’t fully present.

The coffin, shiny and black, occupied center stage. Where he thought he’d seen people solemnly walking up the aisle to say goodbye, there was only empty space. He realized he was unnervingly alone. Yet the coffin was not, it was flanked on either side by identical shapes, the light reflecting from their polished surfaces dazzling his vision. He stumbled to his feet, gripping tightly to the smooth wood of the pew in front of him. He rubbed his fingers against it, distracted by the grain, worn down by decades of touch. He looked again and there were six coffins, the once open space crowded and bent to accommodate so much loss.

He swayed, confused, it must be the damn flowers. The whole room seemed to tilt and he fell into the aisle, landing hard on his knees. He looked up just in time to see the coffins, doubled, tripled in size, rolling toward him, shuddering as they picked up speed.

Hotch gasped as he woke up on the jet, gripping the armrest tightly as he scanned the area around him. No one noticed the slight disruption, he knew well how to stay still, how to disappear in response to distress. Everyone was dozing or lost in their thoughts, drained from long days on the road. He counted their heads to check that everyone was accounted for. They were coming back from another case, he wasn’t quite sure from where. His hands shook from holding the seat too tightly so he put them in his lap, absently running his thumb across his other fingers.

He pulled out his phone to check the time and, more importantly, to check the date. He’d been struggling ever since the Scratch case to keep the details of time in order. It was embarrassing and he did his best to hide these lapses in awareness. The disorientation was always worse after one of these dreams. Though he was too practiced to show he was having nightmares, this one was starting to get to him. It had been coming back again and again since that night when he watched his team die. One right after the other, unable to stop it, unable to even be sure it wasn’t himself pulling the trigger. Though they were safe, were still alive at least, he couldn’t shake the fear. It had been so real. And it had been his fault.

He tried to tell himself to let it go, that it was only a hallucination brought on by a chemical attack from a psychopath. A man who was now in prison, successfully captured by his very alive teammates while he sat uselessly on the floor, afraid to trust his senses. However, he couldn’t quite escape the nagging fear that Scratch didn’t surrender, that in the mess of it all he had gotten away. When he let himself think about it, it never made sense that a man so calculated, so many moves ahead of them, would simply give in. He couldn’t be sure that the surrender wasn’t one of the false memories.

There was no way to distinguish between them, the real and the nightmare. He could only convince himself that his team was alive by watching carefully as they breathed whenever they weren’t looking. By their heated bickering over who would ride where. Lately he had even relinquished the driver’s seat, worried that his loosely tethered mind might sweep them all off the road. He fixated on their little habits, certain that these were things his mind couldn’t make up, proof that his family was really there in front of him. The orange fingerprints on case files and every single coffee mug disappeared from the kitchenette, lost wherever Reid set them down before forgetting, caught up in some exciting train of thought. Things that might have frustrated him before became lifelines to reality, the reality he hoped with all his heart was true.

In the immediate days after the attack, he would ask Dave, quietly, for assurance that Peter Lewis was locked up, unable to harm his team. Dave was understanding, remembering how he had been that night, eyes full of loss. But the looks he gave Hotch grew longer and more worried with each repetition of the question. Now, again unsure, he was too ashamed to ask.

It had been so hard to keep things straight in his mind. For awhile he had been writing himself notes: “Peter Lewis is in prison.” Except he would find them again later, letters added, message changed, unable to tell if it was still his handwriting. It didn’t make sense for it to be someone else, fuck he kept these notes in his pockets, in his desk drawer, in his medicine cabinet. He couldn’t remember changing them though. Maybe that was what he had written in the first place. The confusion of the notes started making him feel worse so he stopped writing them. Every time he found another one, he tore it into tiny pieces, all the while trying to convince himself nothing was wrong with his behavior, nothing was wrong with his mind.

*

On Saturday, rare in its lack of crisis, Hotch was sitting on the couch, finally free to read a book while waiting for Jack to get home. He had been invited to a movie with some school friends. He started thinking about how relieved he was that Jack had friends to do normal things with and lost track of the story. As he scanned back, a little surprised how far he’d read without absorbing any information, his phone rang. His lungs constricted. Fear was always the first reaction to the phone ringing. He leaned forward to pick it up from the coffee table, brushing away his irrational feelings. It was Spencer. That was a little odd but not unheard of. Sometimes Spencer learned a new fact that only Hotch would appreciate and couldn’t wait until they got back to the office to share it. He smiled as he answered, anticipating an excited rush of speech. Instead there was silence.

“Hello?”

Nothing. He listened hard, not sure if he could hear breathing. There was some rustling, muffled and indistinct. Maybe Spencer dialed him by accident. He hung up and tried calling back. It rang without answer. He tried one more time but got the same result, the voicemail picking up quicker the second time. He told himself there was a mundane explanation but anxiety crawled like a spider up his neck. He was about to make another call, was trying to decide who was most likely to be helpful. Penelope? Derek? But then Jack walked in the door, hyped on candy and popcorn and wanting to repeat every joke from the movie. He let it go, if it was important Spencer would call back.

*

Monday morning and Spencer wasn’t in the office. Hotch had been there since 6 am, buried in paperwork, perpetually stuck in a state of catching up. He didn’t notice the absence until JJ came to ask him if he had any update from Spencer.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t heard from him. Update on what exactly?”

“Oh well he was supposed to come over for game night on Saturday but he said he wasn’t feeling well.” She assumed he was still sick, that he had called out. It was very unlike him to skip out on work, though perhaps he was just very unwell. Images of Spencer, pale and shaky, in the depths of his addiction, flashed through both of their memories and they exchanged looks. It had been so many years, and he did such a good job of pretending it never even happened, but they still remembered. It always came back whenever some uncertainty with Reid popped up.

“Have you tried calling him?” He tried to be logical, not everything needed to be the end of the world.

“Just goes to voicemail.” She raised her eyebrows at him, the silent question—what do we do boss?

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at the files covering his desk, he’d already put in several hours today, he could use a break.

“I’ll go check on him.”

She started to offer to go with him but he waved her off. If Reid was sick there was no reason for both of them to be exposed. If it was something else, well, it was probably better if Hotch was alone for that too. Just as he got to the elevator, Derek caught up with him.

“I hear you’re going to check on pretty boy,” he was trying to sound light-hearted.

Hotch made a noise in response.

“I’m coming with you.”

Hotch looked over at him and saw the steel behind the statement. He wasn’t asking. Neither one needed to say aloud the worry laying just beneath the surface. That dreaded what if that swam around in the back of all their minds. He gestured for Morgan to get in the elevator ahead of him.

*

They got to Spencer’s apartment with still no word from him. He didn’t answer when they knocked on the door and though neither wanted to admit it, they were starting to panic.

“He better be passed out on cough syrup,” Morgan muttered as he flipped through his keys to find Reid’s spare, still trying to mask his fear. When they got the door open the apartment was cold and empty. The blinds were closed and the room was dark. Once they flipped the lights on everything seemed normal though unoccupied. The apartment was relatively neat, stacks of books and papers operating as some kind of decor.

“Reid?” they called even though they could tell he wasn’t there. They wandered through the small apartment, checking for signs of their friend.

“Hotch!”

Hotch caught the edge of the door with his shoulder and swore as he hurried out of the bedroom to respond to Morgan’s distressed call. He was standing in the small kitchen, looking at the counter. On it were Reid’s keys, phone and wallet. They could have been tossed there upon his arrival. But wouldn’t he have taken them if he had gone somewhere?

“Where is he?” Morgan’s voice was tight.

Hotch shook his head, this didn’t make sense. He picked up the phone and saw the list of missed calls from the office, from JJ, from him. He unlocked it and checked, heart sinking as his fear was confirmed. The last call was to his own phone on Saturday evening.

“Call Garcia,” he said, checking Reid’s messages.

“What’s going on Hotch?” Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off Reid’s phone, the frantic way Hotch was scrolling through it.

He stopped and looked up. “I…I don’t know.” The images from his dream, his nightmare were threatening to envelop him. Reid crumpled on the ground, a gunshot still ringing, dark wood with rounded edges cradling his lifeless body. The phone screen blurred when he looked at it again and he dropped it on the counter, using his hands to hold himself up.

“Hey man, are you ok?” Derek started to move closer but Hotch turned away, effectively closing himself off.

“Call Garcia, we need to start a search.” And I need to get a grip, he thought as the world around him shifted disturbingly. If something was as wrong as it seemed, they would all be looking to him to solve it. He certainly couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even sure if he was clinging to the counter or the floor.

*

It was hours later when they finally got a lead. It was not the lead that they wanted. There was a report of a body matching his description at a morgue one town over. It had been pulled out of the river in the early hours on Sunday, spotted by a couple of unhappy fishermen. There had been no wallet, no ID, no way to figure out who he belonged to. They had put him down as a John Doe, a presumed suicide and he was being held until they could get around to trying to match dental records. Garcia teared up as she relayed the information to the rest of the team.

“That can’t be him! Are you sure?” Morgan spoke more harshly than he meant to, nerves frayed by hours of fending off worst case scenarios.

Garcia hesitated, holding a folder. “They sent pictures but…I can’t look. I’m sorry.” She started crying in earnest now.

“Oh baby girl,” Morgan put a hand gently on her shoulder and pulled the file away. He was reluctant to open it as well. Hotch saw this and quickly took the folder and walked to the other side of the table where he flipped it open. His mouth formed a grim line and he didn’t have to say anything for them to know. He was glad he took it, happy to spare them the sight of waxy pale skin, the only color a deep purple beneath his closed eyes and his startlingly blue lips. It looked like he was wearing make up, like this was just another Halloween look Spencer was testing out. Hotch stared at the picture a moment too long. This is real, he told himself.

“Aaron?” Dave tried to pull his attention back to the room of anxious agents. Even though they knew, there was still the tortured hope that if he didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t true.

He sighed, “It’s Spencer.”

Garcia let out a sob and turned into the hug that Morgan wrapped around her. JJ, sitting at the table stared into the distance.

He tried to organize the facts, solidify them in his mind by repeating them silently to himself. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he normally suppressed to avoid having it sticking out wildly.

“I’ll go formally identify the…” He couldn’t call Spencer a body. “I’ll go see when we can get him transferred to us.”

“I can come with you,” Dave offered but Hotch declined. Looking at the others he felt like they needed someone to stay with them that would ward off anything too impulsive. They were all stunned at the moment but the feeling in the room was unsettled.

“You’re wrong.” JJ spoke without looking at him, her gaze still fixed at a spot on the far end of the table. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.”

He realized she was crying and felt a weight start to crush his chest. With effort he moved to where she sat, unable to find anything to say. He touched her hand but she jerked away, suddenly standing and glaring at him.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated before leaving quickly.

There was a hand at his elbow, squeezing gently. “I’ll go talk to her in a little bit. You should get going, it’s already late.”

He tried not to pull away too quickly as he nodded his thanks at Dave, who looked at him curiously.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to come with you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I can do it.” He hoped Dave would ignore the shake in his voice. He was fine, he could do this, he didn’t have a choice. He walked to his office to get his things, stopping for a moment to pull out Reid’s phone again. He needed to check the calls one more time, to confirm what he thought he remembered. Sure enough, his number remained the last outgoing call. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that it was real.

~Part 2~

[offtopicoverload]

Disney Princess - 3

i told you id get it out anon, didnt i? but legit, so sorry this took for fucking ever, i get distracted :)

Chapter 2

M Rating (i bumped it up cuz of drinking? am i meant to? and no warnings)

Aurora x f!MC (Rylen Damen) (if you haven't been here in a while, i changed mc to an oc, but same personality)

~3k words (not super long, but i got a jump on chapter 4 so that should be out soon)

Read on Ao3

-

Aurora Emery is relieved.

It's strange. Very strange, the way her shoulders feel less tense and the way her thoughts are less clouded as she winds through Edenbrook’s halls, steps light as they lead her to Harper Emery’s office. She adjusts her coat outside the door, smoothing out the lapels delicately before stepping inside. 

Harper’s sorting through papers on her desk, only glancing up as Aurora sits across from her, palms flat on her thighs to quell her nerves. There’s tension lingering in the air, thick as it attempts to weigh down Aurora’s shoulders, attempts to counteract the result of the trial.

The pair sitting across from each other haven’t spoken since the fight in the atrium, the only communication being a brief, agitated text. Aurora’s foot begins tapping beneath the desk, muted by the carpet resting under her feet as the silence drags on and on and on and on.

“What did you need?” Aurora rushes out, her anxiety getting the best of her as her fingers twitch in her lap.

Harper glances up from her paperwork momentarily, meeting Aurora’s gaze, then sits back in her chair, hands folded atop her desk. “I thought it best we discussed what happened earlier,” she answers coolly, the slightest irritation in her expression.

“What’s there to discuss?” Aurora counters, squirming in her seat slightly.

Harper sits up, straight as an arrow, with tense shoulders beneath her coat and fingers knit together, resting on the desk. “If you’re not happy with me, Aurora, I’d like to know how to fix that.”

A sigh sinks Aurora’s own shoulder, sinking her further into her chair, “Aunt Harper -”

“Aurora,” she cuts her off gently, “I never want you to resent me or hate being around me. If that’s starting to happen, I want to correct it and be the best aunt I can be.”

“It’s just -” Aurora’s shoulders slump, any fight dissolving from her. “It’s overwhelming. When you give me as many assignments as you can, just to spend twice the time to keep you updated and involved. It’s exhausting.”

Harper nods along, falling quiet. Her hands find a pen, twirling it, twisting it between idle fingers. She nods again, more resolute this time, “I’ll try to step back some more, give you space.”

“Are you going to go back to practicing?”

She sighs, “Aurora…”

“You’re not happy sitting in this office, I know it,” Aurora frowns across the desk, folding her arms in defiance. “You’re always upset when you get home and take every opportunity to do some real work.”

“This is real work,” Harper frowns right back.

“No, it’s not.”

“Aurora…” she warns, eyes flickering with growing anger. “My career does not concern you.”

“And mine doesn’t concern you, but you’re still involved.”

“Then I’ll stop being involved. We can cut ties entirely, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” Aurora bites out.

Harper sighs, her head falling into the cradle of her hands as a quiet permeates the office, mingling with the leftover irritation. “I think you should move out,” Harper finally says, not moving.

“Why?” Aurora’s asking before she can help herself, surprise widening her eyes and dropping her jaw.

“Being this involved in each other’s lives isn’t working, Aurora,” she gestures uselessly. “I love you, but we’re both adults and don’t need to be getting into petty arguments.”

“So I’m getting kicked out?” Aurora asks indignantly, her expression some odd combination of frustration and betrayal.

“Of course not! Just - Let’s take a step back, okay?” Harper attempts to gesture placatingly, waving her hands down.

Jaw clenched tight, Aurora spits, “Fine,” standing quickly and exiting from the office, letting the door fall closed with a thud. A nurse glances up from across the hall, and she barely musters as scowl before hurrying down the corridor. Her hands mess with her coat, adjusting neurotically as she navigates the winding halls. 

She’s not quite sure where she’s headed, just that it has to be far from her aunt’s office and the woman still sitting within it. It has to be far away from the nagging voice in the back of her mind, telling her she just can’t handle this workload, she’s not cut out for it. It has to be far away from the anxiety that sat heavy in her gut in the hearing, an inexplicable bubbling of nerves.

Her feet eventually lead her to a waiting area, where family members and patients awaiting treatment sit, the air heavy. A woman’s sniffling in a corner, a few tears escaping just to be wiped away by the tissue in her hands. A young boy plays with a toy car on the floor, a teenager keeping watch over him a few feet away. A man sits with his hands clasped tightly, knee jerking anxiously with wildly roving eyes. There’s a dozen stories within this room alone, each wrought with upset and grief.

And that’s why she’s here, why she’s dealt with that workload for so long. Why she felt that anxiety tug at her over Edenbrook’s fate. Why she wants and needs the best for herself, her aunt, the staff as a whole. A notification shakes her phone in her pocket, and she tugs it out, finally tearing her eyes away from the stories before her.

It’s from the other source of that anxiety, the person she was dreading seeing go most, purely because Rylen can help these people just as much as she can. ‘I know you’re allergic to fun, but everyone’s heading to Donahue’s tonight. Figured you might wanna come :D’

She frowns down at the message, glancing up at the waiting room one last time before turning down the hall, typing as she goes, ‘Only for the drinks.’ It’s an easy, comfortable quip, one that comes without trying.

Grey dots pop up in a single second, a chime quickly following, ‘Of course. I’d never presume it’d be for me, Princess ;)’

Aurora rolls her eyes at the emoticon, sending out a response as she arrives at a nurse’s station, leaning against it idly. ‘Good.’ Her grip slackens as she stares at it, one finger tapping the side of her case, a slow, steady beat, while her lips twist to the side. ‘And good job, Damen.’

‘Thanks.’ It’s quick as usual, and even without the smiley, Aurora knows it's there, reflected in Rylen’s own device screen.

Now, to survive the last of her shift - headache-inducing patients, stacks of paperwork, gossiping coworkers and all. She straightens up, exhaling deeply and setting her shoulders, teeth gritting in determination. 

---

Aurora arrives to a bustling bar, attendings and interns alike shouting and drinking, dancing and laughing loudly. A few glance her way as she cautiously steps up to the bar, ordering a beer as quick as she can, but she doesn’t bother with them. Once the bartender moves on, she slips through the thick crowd, finding a small, empty booth in the back corner.

She slumps into it, pulling her phone out just to occupy her time. She taps open the message that’s been waiting for her since she left Harper’s office: ‘I’m sorry if I upset you, but you should be more independent.’

With a huff, her phone slams against the table, and she chugs back her drink, leaving the booth for another. And another. And another.

“You came!” a joyful voice chimes, earning a short glance from Aurora.

Her attention quickly snaps back to where it’s been occupied lately, apartment listings she doesn’t have much interest in. “You always did like stating the obvious,” she grumbles. “You don’t have to check on me, by the way. I’m used to being alone.”

Beer sloshes in its bottle as Rylen slumps into the booth beside her, glancing over Aurora’s shoulder at her screen. “You moving?”

“Yes. And you’re nosy.” She slides away from Rylen, who puts even more space between them. “I’ve been staying at my aunt’s place all year, but we both think it’ll be good to have some space.”

Rylen nods enthusiastically, slouching back against the seat to look out over the bar. Elijah and Bryce are cheering on Sienna and Jackie as they down a row of shots, Sienna’s arms raising in victory when she slams her last glass down. “You know… we have a room opening up,” Rylen’s elbow nudges Aurora, a mischievous light in her eyes as they meet Aurora’s.

Aurora eyes her suspiciously, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” Rylen’s smile somehow seems to grow, glinting as she picks at the label on her beer bottle. “I mean, I have to ask my roommates but… it’s not like we can afford the place on our own.”

Nodding, Aurora turns to her own drink, tapping her nails against the side in contemplation. The faint sound can barely be heard through the bar’s sounds, but it’s enough to focus on, to drown out laughter and music to.

“Think about it,” Rylen’s nudging her again, pulling her back to Donahue’s. She glances up, finding Rylen smiling softly as she stands, gripping her beer loosely in her palm.

Aurora nods, still tapping lightly, “...I will.”

---

Rylen appears before Aurora’s eyes, collapsing across from her with a thud against the booth’s cushions. “So’ve you thought ‘bout it?” Her arms fold on the tabletop, chin resting on them as she gazes up with bright, shining eyes.

Blinking, Aurora looks up, setting her phone down and eyeing Rylen and her flushed, red cheeks. “About…?”

“Moving in! Duh!” She grins, not a hint of trepidation, of reservation, all teeth and deep smile lines. Her head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into the fabric of her shirt, “So…?”

Aurora sighs, rolling her eyes, “Maybe. I need more than a single night.”

Bottom lip jutting out in a pout, Rylen tries her best to be irresistible, “Boo. You should just say yes.”

“Why do you want me in your apartment anyway?”

“Okay, so,” she sparks to life, jerking upright as energy overflows from her. “One:” she flicks a finger out, leaning over the table. “We need help paying rent. Two: We know you, and strangers are weird. Three: You’re pretty cool and we all like you already.”

“Really? Even Jackie?”

“Well…” Rylen’s voice pitches up as her head bobs in consideration, “She likes the help with rent, but she’ll come around. Swear it.” She draws an ‘x’ over her heart, slumping against the back of the booth.

Aurora only shrugs, picking her phone up again to occupy her hands and mind, “I still haven’t decided.”

Rylen hefts a world-weary sigh, her shoulder rising and dropping dramatically, “Fine. But decide soon or we’ll have to find someone else.”

Aurora nods, attention already returned to her phone and the scrolling of her email inbox. Across from her, Rylen falls quiet, gaze wandering distractedly, seeming to snap onto anything and everything.

Abruptly, her gleaming eyes fall back on Aurora. “Gimme your arm,” her hands reach across the table, keeping their distance but waiting expectantly, palms upright. 

Aurora obliges without thinking, allowing Rylen to carefully take her wrist, pushing her sleeve up her forearm, fingers barely brushing her skin. A shiver ripples down Aurora’s spin before she shakes it away, schooling her expression into distant curiosity, “Why?”

“Just checking you haven’t broken out in hives.” Rylen smiles easily, thumb brushing Aurora’s wrist unconsciously, light enough to send goosebumps breaking in a tidal wave.

“I’m not actually allergic to fun, you know,” Aurora barely manages a glare, her attention continually slipping back to the fingers still tracing random patterns on the inside of her wrist.

“Can never be too careful.” Finally retracting, Rylen’s hands fall to her lap, and despite the heat of the small, crowded bar, Aurora’s skin feels colder for it. Her goosebumps disappear, and she retracts her own arm, fidgeting with her glass.

She avoids Rylen’s eyes, staring into the random cocktail she ordered intently. “Don’t need your concern.”

“Everyone needs my concern.” Rylen doesn’t react to the slight edge in Aurora’s voice, the unspoken warning to keep her distant, like a snake’s rattle, “I have great concern, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will,” Aurora’s teeth grit together, grinding ever so slightly.

The corner booth falls silent as Rylen watches her carefully, watches her race the rim of her glass and stare at the colors inside. “...If you really don’t want to be here, you should go.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Aurora’s dark eyes flicker up, finding an earnestness in Rylen’s she hasn’t seen since that day in the supply closet. It’s not unwelcome either, it’s reassuring as Aurora takes in the crease between her brows.

“Never,” she shakes her head adamantly, “Just don’t want your night to suck.”

“I’m fine,” Aurora shrugs awkwardly, picking at one of her nails. “But thanks.”

“‘Course,” hazel eyes crinkle as Rylen smiles, nearly squinting with the force of it, and Aurora can feel herself relaxing under the full brunt of that smile. The spell breaks as Rylen stands, “I’ll go but lemme know if you need anything,” tapping the table in a short burst before sauntering off.

She joins a group by the bar, throwing her arm around a giggling Sienna’s shoulders as Bryce speaks animatedly, Kyra interjecting periodically. Occasionally their laughter and shouts manage to float over to Aurora’s corner, and every burst of Rylen’s voice draws her eyes.

It’s late when Donahue’s finally starts emptying out, loud clusters of doctors filtering out the front door, most a little uneasy on their feet. One of the interns spilled a drink on another earlier, their raised voices effectively ending the night for most.

Aurora’s nearly slipped out behind a few of the quieter attendings when someone stumbles into her from the side, arms wrapping around her waist as a face is buried in her shoulder. Dark hair tickles her nose as she glances questioningly to the culprit, beaten to the punch by a mumbling against her, “Thanks for coming. Even just for booze,” before she’s released, a flushed, very drunk Rylen leaning against Rafael for support.

He smiles kindly at Aurora before carefully putting his arm around the woman waving to her and leading Eylen away, down the street after their other friends. Tugging her jacket tighter, Aurora turns the opposite direction, scanning the cars for the ride she called thirty minutes prior.

---

Aurora’s keys jangle as she unlocks her apartment’s front door, dropping them on the nearby tabletop before shrugging out of her jacket, bag still slung over her shoulder. She stretches her back, pops sounding as she stalks further into the apartment with a sigh, head bowed in exhaustion.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming home at all.” Harper’s voice rings from the kitchen, her arms folded on the countertop.

Gaze snapping over to her, Aurora straightens up, “I went to Donahue’s. Damen invited me.” The response is quick, nervous as she stares down her aunt, the very same aunt she fought with twice today.

“Rylen? I heard about that.” Harper speaks over her shoulder, crossing the kitchen to scavenge in the fridge. 

“Yeah,” Aurora shrugs, crossing her arms beneath her chest awkwardly. “There were a lot of staff there.”

Harper pulls out a water bottle and an orange, messing with them idly as she bumps the door closed with her hip, “Did you have fun?”

“I guess. It was pretty typical.”

With a nod, Harper snatches ibuprofen off a counter, stepping up to Aurora and depositing the items in her hands. She smiles softly, squeezing Aurora’s shoulder as she steps past her, before disappearing down the hall, “Take care tonight.”

Aurora blinks down at the things in her hands, somewhat surprised by the peaceful interaction. She follows a beat later, juggling the objects until she can dump them on her bed, door slammed shut behind her and bag dropped to the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, she listens to the quiet, dark apartment, and the bustling of the city outside, blocked from her by a closed curtain tonight.

A buzz sounds, an increasingly familiar buzz. Aurora jerks upward with a sigh, grabbing her bag and rifling through it until she finds her phone case. Her screen appears blurred as it lights up, and after rubbing her eyes, she opens it to the expected message.

‘Thnks agan  . drunk but youre a perfct princess :DDDDFDD’

Typing slowly, carefully, Aurora crafts her response, still grinning at the virtual smile she was gifted. She smiles too much when she’s been drinking, but maybe Rylen deserves it more than most. Or maybe she’s drunker than she thought. ‘You’re a pain but the drinks were good. Thanks.’ she finally settles on.

And with that, she puts her phone on silent, plugs it in across the room, nearly collapses into her bed, and begins messily peeling her orange in little pieces. A half hour later, she’s tucking into bed, eyes fluttering shut with the image of Rylen’s loopy, relaxed smile branded on her eyelids.

[yandere-flower]

Night Owl

Finally, I have an Antonio fic. It’s a doozy. This is my first fic over 2,000 words oh man.

TW: dub-con, somnophillia, breeding mention, one mention of Cliff

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

As much as he hated to admit it, his dad paying for that studio downtown was the best thing to happen to him. Everyday he got to see the cute receptionist at the building, who was always so excited to see him. He couldn't imagine that your beautiful smile would be used for any one other than him. Your body would perk up as he leaned against the counter, and he would ask you if she saw this movie or have been to that restaurant, anything to hear the sweet voice of his angel. The two of you quickly became friends, so much so that he often stopped by your place to walk you to work as he went to the studio.

The first time he worked over night, he learned that you work double shifts some times. And with that, your relationship to the next step in his eyes. Oh how cute your pleas were when you begged Antonio to just sleep on your couch for the night, it was to dangerous to walk alone this late at night! Your concern caused his heart to swell, he'd never imagine he would get this lucky in life. After that, Antonio tried to pace out how often he worked late, so you wouldn't get suspicious of his intentions.

He knew if he was patient, he could get you in bed soon enough. It would be romantic, with the perfect dates and the wonderful memories all leading to him worshiping your soft and enticing body. He wanted to hear those pleas again, only this time with you crying as you cummed on his dick.

It should be special, he knew this.

Yet he couldn't resist when the opportunity arose.

Another "late night" for Antonio, where he painted his excitement all over the canvas as he waited until he knew your shift would be close to ending. He tried to pretend that he didn't care if you saw him, but he couldn't stop his gaze from looking at yours. You smiled, of course you did, and asked him if he was done for the day. What a coincidence, so were you. He loved walking you back, such an intimate gesture in his mind, and the fact that you trust him so much. He made sure to try and "suppress" his yawn, but it was loud enough for you to hear. He knew you would invite him to sleep on the couch, but the two of you decided to watch a movie this time around. He knew that you just avoiding trying to go to sleep, you dreaded taking your sleeping pills as you felt so groggy in the morning.

You promised you wouldn't take them tonight, all so he wouldn't have to "do the walk of shame" in the morning as you were asleep. The two of you laughed, but Antonio would never be ashamed of making love to you. He swears, his intentions were pure when he decided to crush some of your sleeping pills into the cup of tea he made you. He wanted you to take care of yourself, to sleep without worrying about the man on your couch. You spent so much of you time worrying, he would do anything to ease your anxiety. He didn't think twice when you abruptly said you HAD to go to sleep, you felt like passing out. With the light shut off and your quiet good night, Antonio laid back and tried to sleep.

Tried.

However he couldn't stop thinking that MAYBE drugging you without knowing your dose may have been a bad idea. He should check on you, like a good friend would. He hated referring to himself as that, but he had to be patient. Gently opening the doors to your room, he poked his head in to see if you were alright. But from this distance, he couldn't really tell if you were alright. His eyes were glued on you as he gingerly walked across the concrete floors, his feet hitting the shag rug that was under your bed.

Lying there, you looked so peaceful. You were perfect to him. Your hair splayed across the pillow, lips slightly apart and your hand gracing your bare midriff. Those silky pjs clung to your body in this summer heat, and yet the loose fabric was just inviting his fingers to touch your most sensitive parts. He had a plan, a good plan, a plan that would work and your first time would be amazing. But, it didn't mean it had to be his first time.

The feeling of shame was quickly squashed by the overwhelming desire that filled him. He has never been this so hot and bothered, and he couldn't blame it on the weather anymore. No, your body on display was his frustration. You were passed out, you wouldn't remember. Sex can relief stress. It makes people happy. Maybe you would wake up feeling relaxed and fulfilled, perhaps you would even crave him for reasons unknown to you.

He was timid at first, stroking your hair to feel how soft it was. He sighed as he played with your locks, twirling little curls around his finger as he thought about your future together. He's never felt like this about anyone before, you truly were the love of his life. He couldn't wait for the flowers and the dates, taking care of you after a bad day of work, anything that involved your body next to his. He wanted this so badly, but for now, he'd have to sate his needs with this. If anything, he's doing this for your future. So he won't fuck up later, and your relationship can be perfect.

In a brash move, he tilted your chin up to meet your plush lips. Not even a stir. At first he barely grazed your lips, but with no resistance it wasn't long until he was slipping the tip of his tongue into your mouth so he could taste you. He couldn't break the contact with your lips, one hand supporting your neck as the other helped support him as he slowly made his way on top of your sleeping form. The mattress dipped with the added pressure, slight creaks coming from the bed as he adjusted himself above you. To an outside, you'd look dead. But with this closeness, he could feel your hot breath on his chest.

He let the kiss break, only so his hand could explore your body. Fingers moved with finesse, barely brushing up against your skin as his touch moved lower and lower. He didn't have to worry about noise or pressure, but he still hesitated as he reached your shorts. His painted nails lightly touched the band, only to pull them down seconds later. He practically squeals as he saw you in those cute little lemon printed panties of yours, such cheekiness even in your undergarments. Any hesitation he still held onto left as soon as he dared to remove your panties as well. Fingers worked their way into your tight and unprepared hole, this time curling inside of you. As your wetness grew, so did his excitement. With your body reacting so positively to his, it was almost as if you were aware of what was going on.

As walls tightened around his fingers, his palm shifts to rub against your clit in unison. "You're so beautiful like this hun, don't worry, I'll treat you right" he whispered, talking to your cunt instead of your face.

He didn't need a response to tell him to keep going, shoving his digits in deeper and deeper into your core. The ache in his pants became almost excruciating, and he couldn't help but communicate his growing need.

"Do you think your tightness is ready for me? I know you'll do such a good job for me baby." he said as withdrew his fingers from your sopping core.

His other hand rubbed your thigh up and down, unable to remain still in the moment. He soaked hand went to push down his sweats, his knuckles brushing against his pelvis and smearing your lovely juices down his skin. His cock sprung out, ready to please and find release inside the comforting heat of your body. God, he felt like a pervert for being so hard at this, but he had to remember that he was doing this for the sake of your relationship.

One deep breath, then another was all he needed before pushing his dick into your opening, panting as your velvety walls encased his member and welcomed him with such ease. He wondered if you'd think this was painful, gritting your teeth and bearing if because you wanted this as much as him. Another part however thought that maybe you'd be crying for him to go deeper, to plow into you. With your sex practically drenching his hips he could only conclude that you were a needy little princess who needed a good fuck. With that thought he pulled almost all the way out before slamming his hips back into your begging sex. Each thrust was filled with passion, with his thoughts of bringing you roses and holding your hand as he walked you home. Your knees are bent as your legs are spread by his hands, he wants to get deeper into you. He couldn't wait to go apartment shopping, decorating your home with tokens or love. He can't tell if he's almost about to cum or if he's just been at this for so long, his legs and arms buckling under the pressure. Arms wrap tightly around your hips as he presses the full weight of his body into yours, drastically humping your pussy as he breathes into your neck, inhaling your scent. Images of ring shopping, of corny proposals and your beautiful crying face fill his mind. You'll look so pretty in a wedding dress, a veil covering your angelic face before he lifts it off you and proclaims your his to the world. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, tell everyone he knows. He wants to mark your body with his ownership so no one would dare touch you. He was the only one allowed to, the only one who would ever get to feel how tight you are. If this was how tight you held onto him when you were asleep, he couldn't imagine the pure bliss he'd feel when you were awake. It was to much, and he knows he should stop right now. Right now before he cums inside your caverns and marks you in ways that he'd never be able to hide.

Fuck, if he cummed now, you could get pregnant without ever knowing how. He knows you haven't been seeing anyone, and you wouldn't so long as he was near. One day soon, you'd just wake up to morning sickness and not even think twice about it. You would tell him all about how you were getting sick in the mornings, and you had no idea why. He’d tell you not to worry about it, anything to avoid you from going to the doctors so it would take you longer to figure it out. Maybe you’d call him crying once you did, and oh how could this be? It doesn’t matter, he’d take care of you. He could put a baby inside you right now, and you'd be none the wiser until you started to go round with your love child. He pushed himself up, getting in a few more long thrusts into your aching core, imagining how you'd react if he confessed. Maybe you'd be mad at first, but maybe you'd feel it was to late. He'd have left his mark in such a permanent way, and you wouldn't turn him down. He’s the perfect guy after all, he knows your friends all think so. He sees you giggling and shushing them as you walk by. You could have it all without ever working for it, all because of this moment. All he had to do was fill your womb with his seed and you’d be his forever. Unconventional, sure, but true love couldn’t wait much longer. Imagining you pregnant with his child, rubbing your hand over your bump drove him wild as the build up in his gut told him he was ready. He wanted to so bad, to flood your pussy with his semen and fall asleep while still inside you, but he still had a ounce of shame still inside him. He hated the feeling of loss as he slipped out of your unyielding sex, but as he climaxed all over your stomach he knew this was for the best.

No, he had a plan.

He knew if he was romantic, and patient, he would get this girl.

After all, look what it's gotten him so far.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Somebody Sweet to Talk To ❁︎ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Pairing: Harry Osborn x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 6k

Gif credit: @mayahawkes

Summary & Warnings || Series Masterlist

Extra warning for this chapter: reader shows some signs of anxiety/mood changes.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨

❁︎ ・・・・・❁︎ ・・・・・ ❁︎ ・・・・・❁︎

Monday arrived too soon, and you dreaded it more than any other week from the school year. Entering the library, you had walked directly toward your usual table and took your laptop and headphones out in order to do homework but everyone around you was staring, almost impatiently, and it was extremely distracting.

It didn’t matter if you finished early or not, Tony had given you the entire week free and changed your working schedule to only Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday unless there was too much to do or emergencies. Seeing as it was better than not having a job at all, you didn’t dare fight him when you knew he was trying to favor you.

The therapy thing... that was different. Maybe you had taken advantage of the fact that Tony and Bucky were mentally ill too by reminding them how cruel medical professionals tended to be toward their patients and even more so when the patient was a fat woman, and maybe you could’ve approached the topic in a more neutral way to not make them feel so damn guilty; yet you didn’t think about it at that moment, too scared of going back to hear that you would never get better, or that you were a problematic person, or therapists simply denying you treatment until you lost weight.

A hand encapsulating yours took you out of your self-absorptive episode. You didn’t need to look to know it was Harry, the slight warmth from his palm that was so different from any hand you had felt on you was becoming familiar.

That was a problem. You spent the entire Sunday going through it and pondering on telling him it would be better to knock it off. You still decided you could tame your newfound feelings and keep faking being in a relationship with him in exchange for friendship.

Snatching your headphones off, you did turn to look at him. He was seemingly analyzing you, “are you okay?” his question was made in a whisper.

“Yeah, I’m just... struggling to focus.” You nodded upward at the now black screen from your computer. You had definitely lost more time than you thought.

“I know, I finished my homework already.”

Looking down at your wristwatch, you realized Harry had gotten there an hour ago. “Sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted, giving your hand a squeeze before moving to store his supplies. “Pete told me you had a tough weekend.”

Humming, you stored your supplies too just to entertain yourself. You hated when people talked about your health without your consent, it was extremely intrusive and made you feel vulnerably uncomfortable. Had Peter told Gwen too?

The answer didn’t take long to come. Fingers intertwined with Harry’s, you left the library to where Peter and Gwen must’ve been waiting for the two of you. The blonde looked at you with empathy, almost pity, and flashed one of those smiles that unknowingly made you feel worse.

Your fake boyfriend must’ve processed it the same way or felt you tense because he ran his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly. He then breathed a smile, making you turn to inquire what was going on. He nodded upward to gesture at the front crystal doors and it was like you could breathe properly again — it was raining.

The smell enhanced your senses as the four of you abandoned the building, Harry’s steps slowed down in contrast to Peter’s hurried ones. You could have cried as consistently as the sky was doing, Harry was being thoughtful and extremely kind to you by allowing you a relaxing moment and you hadn’t even asked for it.

He threw his keys at Gwen, telling her to not wait for you because you would walk to The Compound. It was a bad idea, walking under the rain when the season was about to change, yet you didn’t dare say no — you couldn’t when as much as you knew the water falling onto you was cold, you felt warm inside.

There was no need for Harry and you to still hold hands, or to stroll so closely to each other — both of you knew, both ignored it. Having a friend was nice, someone to go to the movies with, talk about everything and nothing, bake together, walk down the rain in silence with slow strides to relish into the aliveness only nature could grant.

Walking slowly didn’t bother him this time, getting soaked didn’t either. He had never seen the face of a person look younger so quickly, he had never even paid attention to those things before and now wondered why when it was so satisfying to watch. In that case, the satisfaction could’ve come from the fact that he was part of it, not an important one in his mind but it was something. You were starting to relax beside him, the frown you had been carrying since he got to the library long gone as your upper body slumped a little. He had helped achieve that, and for a split minute, nothing else mattered until he thought what would his father say if he knew Harry’s biggest accomplishment up to that day had been relaxing his —fake— girlfriend.

“We don’t have to get in if you don’t want to,” he whispered, almost hopeful so he could be in you relaxed and consequentially soothing presence for a little longer.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you said, softness oozing from your tone in an attempt to show him you were more than grateful.

Either of you wasn’t wet enough to be soaked, both made the observation in distinct ways. His hoodie, in fact, was wet, just like his hair, but his jeans looked almost dry — your hair looked different due to the water, your jacket seemed darker, and there was a waterdrop on top of your right eyelash that he couldn’t keep himself from wiping.

Dropping your backpack onto one of the sofas, you peeled your jacket off. Harry did the same with his book bag and took his hoodie off. Before he could drop it, you took it from his hand.

He tilted his head. You chuckled, “I’ll put it in the dryer so it doesn’t get ruined.” He blinked rapidly, a nod being the only answer he could give.

He watched you walk away, heart dropping as you disappeared further into the hallway and made a turn. God, what was happening to him? He missed the warmth from your palm already, irradiating into his even though yours was smaller, and filling his entire system with a feeling he had never experienced; a week had taken him to become needy for your touch, that attention you gave so selflessly when he spoke, your wise and poignant comments that you always seemed to finish with an interested question of his opinion, your soft lips that made everything around him fade away.

“Here,” you whispered, almost bashfully. He focused his eyes on you again, realizing he had been staring at nothingness. A piece of clothing was being offered by your right hand as with the left one you made signs at someone behind him. “It’ll fit you loosely because it’s mine, but you’ll be warm.”

Fuck. Harry had never met a kinder person than you. He couldn’t believe Peter and Ned had said you were everything but, it was impossible for them to be talking about the same woman. He took the soft fabric in his grasp, sliding it down his head before slipping his arms in — it fitted him better than both of you had considered.

Peter was horrified to see his male best friend in a familiar blue sweatshirt, eyes wide as he and Gwen went back to the living room after spending time alone in his bedroom. His two best friends were sat almost flushed against the other, you type in your laptop as Harry slanted his head to read whatever you were redacting.

Gwen was worried, she thought Harry would keep his distance after the conversation they had. But now, watching him give you all his attention and hearing him ask about your homework like it was the most interesting topic someone could talk about, she realized there was no point in tearing you apart. Her boyfriend thought otherwise, and it worried her too — Peter, being Peter, was getting obsessive.

When you were done, you uploaded the essay to the school’s interface and closed the laptop. Standing up, you arranged your backpack in the way you liked and then did the same with the laptop case.

“Does any of you want something from the kitchen?” you asked, surprising them.

Gwen nodded, bashfully. “Camomile tea, if you can.”

“Of course,” you nodded too.

Harry followed you toward the kitchen, not wanting to be under Peter’s annoyed gaze that he honestly didn’t understand anymore. Snorting when you started peeling the gigantic orange he bought for you once the kettle was on the burner, he sat on a stool.

You offered him some fruit, the ghost of a smile appearing on your face when he took half of the orange. It was surprisingly tasty, you hadn’t expected that from its size.

Endearingly vexing was a good way of describing oranges, he had to agree. Harry avoided them most of the time because of how changing their flavor was, but now he was starting to think they weren’t that bad — they would never beat apples, though.

Tony poured himself some coffee, watching you comfortably eat fruit. He also saw Harry’s sweatshirt and couldn’t hide the teasing smirk from plastering on his face when you turned to gaze at him. He was happy you hadn’t ended things with Harry, no matter what Tony thought of Norman he knew the kid wasn’t at fault — he also suspected Harry was mistreated by his dad and couldn’t help but be biased.

“Does Gwen like sugar in her tea?” You wondered out loud.

Harry shrugged. He didn’t know a lot about Gwen even though she was his best friend, the blonde didn’t make him part of everything. You ignored him and carried the teacup in a hand and the sugar bowl in another, making him once again inwardly question why everyone thought of you as a heartless person.

And because you weren’t what people said you were, he grew more nervous about introducing you to his father. Norman tended to treat people who weren’t Harry with respect and even empathy, but what if he didn’t like you? What if he found you to be dumb for supposedly dating his son? Harry didn’t want to put you through one of his dad’s weird episodes, but he didn’t want his dad to laugh at him if he said you had an emergency to take care of either.

He saw you try to smile warmly at Gwen when handing her the cup and decided it would be better to warn you the next day when the mood wouldn’t be soured.

“We’re watching Footloose when Pete finishes his homework, do you two want to join us?”

“Sure,” both shrugged and said at the same time. Sharing a look, something that in the week you had been close had become second nature, you saw each other’s brows twitch in curiousness.

Too focused on the movie to pay attention to whatever couple-y thing Peter and Gwen were doing, you sat with your shoulders brushing. Harry shifted to rest his head on the arm of the couch, his hand brushing yours so you’d get the hint. Your head dropped onto his arm as you shuffled to make sure you would squash him, none of your eyes leaving the screen.

Tuesday brought mountains of homework and a scorching sunny afternoon. Wednesday was the opposite, that morning Harry found himself staring at the blue sweatshirt laying on his desk chair to decide if it would be a good idea to wear it again. The fabric still smelled of the softener you used, a custom one Stark bought for you every few weeks — there was a slight sweetness under the freshness of the scent and he marveled at how suiting it was.

Caving in, he snatched the sweatshirt and hoped Peter wouldn’t react like the other time. His best friend was getting distant, he got annoyed easily too — Harry thought him to be jealous, confirming his theory of Peter having feelings for you; Harry also thought himself to be envious of the finding.

Peter always got what Harry wanted, but this was different. This time he had put himself in that situation, almost begging to be thrown to the side when he wasn’t useful anymore. The day was approaching if the pattern wasn’t broken, and it didn’t hurt him because his dad would laugh or because he would probably still see you every day, it hurt him because he had never felt so safe in someone else’s presence.

He took a whiff of the sweatshirt as he slid it on, the memory of the first time he got to smell the scent coming to his mind.

It had been a while since he put a foot in the university. Harry had hit rock bottom, an overdose almost took his life and the worst part of it was how badly he wished it had. Out of spite, because he didn’t think he should let his father win every single battle, he decided to get help. Rehabilitation centers weren’t pretty, nor comfortable, and their usefulness could be up for debate; but Harry learned many things about himself there: his needs and dreams, his potential that he didn’t believe in most of the days, the fact that if he tried and wanted hard enough he could be a good person and a successful professional.

Peter was with Ned outside of the building when he arrived, waiting for someone that wasn’t him. Their greetings were effusive, brotherly, he felt good in their arms when he allowed them to hug him. But the feeling was nothing compared to the somersaults his stomach made when something he could only describe as hot cocoa on a winter day filled his nostrils.

You were dressed in casual clothes, he remembered them perfectly as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. Dark jeans, skater vans, a yellow sweatshirt that made you look radiant even though your eyes were sad. You greeted them three politely and Peter introduced you briefly, after that you made your way through the door and into the crowd — Harry couldn’t stop staring at the spot you had disappeared from, and Ned caught it so he said, ”been there, not even got to try and do that.”

Warnings came. Your reclusiveness, the way you closed off when a loved one did something that mildly upset you and how easily you got upset. Peter said you were like a sister to him, that not even he could get your shell to crack. ”She’s shyer than me, and I’m not even sure if she likes people,” Peter had sighed sadly.

Your career paths didn’t have anything to do with the other, not a single class was shared. Free hours you did share, but Harry followed his friends’ advice because it was simple curiosity and he needed different things, he didn’t need to fix people because he couldn’t.

But now, now he wished he had tried like Ned didn’t. He didn’t understand why he was feeling like that so soon, and he didn’t want to understand — it would be useless. Maybe all this time he had harbored a crush, or maybe it was the particular enticement that only the forbidden could provide, or maybe —just maybe and that was all— he was falling easily for the first person to be unapologetically themselves around him.

Harry knew that Peter held off, Ned always followed what Pete and Betty did, and Gwen was scared of him because of his past. If you explicitly knew about it and had lied when he asked, you were a master at masking it, and if you didn’t know about it he was sure you wouldn’t react badly to the news.

You would probably praise him again for learning to not lash out at people, he could picture your neutral semblance upon hearing all about it as he entered the classroom to take his first lecture of the day and a sigh slid past his lips.

Bouncing your leg, you slid the collar of your hoodie up to the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Harry’s cologne made you sigh heavily against the soft fabric, a part of you regretted having put it on while the other marveled at how the smell had clung to the fabric just by being against his arm. The grey material was comforting enough, but his smell was the real treat and you hated to know it, you hated not being able to help it.

Thoughts of Peter still swarmed around your mind, you still felt pangs on your chest when Gwen sat on his lap or when they kissed in front of you. But they weren’t constant anymore, you were too busy between getting your master’s degree, your wavering mental health, and Harry’s deep voice. At that, you would have to add your job next week, but you’d manage. You were almost as good as Tony at multitasking, writing nomenclatures down while craving your fake boyfriend’s presence would be aced — you even were sure you could get a doctorate on it and the thought chilled you to the bone.

You assumed you were thinking like a teenager — you hadn’t even thought like that when you were a teenager! You had been too lost into your self-hate and problems at home to have the time to behave like a teenager or to want to be one... Not wanting to think about it anymore, you focused on your homework for the day.

A shadow was cast on your notebook, prompting you to look upward. The sight of Harry in your sweatshirt made your heart skip a beat. “Peter left early,” he whispered to not be kicked out of the library, cellphone in hand. “He took my car.”

You nodded, aware of his eyes being on you. “I’m almost done.”

“Want me to ask for an Uber?”

“I can walk,” you assured him, scribbling down the answer you were halfway through. Gloomy days had never bothered you, they were common for you.

You waved at Ned goodbye as you walked across the hallway, the shorter man lifted an eyebrow upon realizing Harry and you were truly holding hands. You had to keep the act up, of course, people would talk about a supposed break up otherwise. You cursed, making Harry worriedly gaze at you.

“You’ll have to carry my cellphone this time around,” you explained. “These pants don’t have pockets and it can crack in my backpack.”

He extended his free palm for you to place the device on it. Sliding it into his pocket carefully, he continued walking.

The first two minutes of walk toward the compound were silent until he took his AirPods out. “Wanna listen to some music?”

“Sure.” You stopped so he could choose a playlist in his phone as you slipped the AirPod he had offered in your ear.

His musical taste was as pleasant as his company, as mixed as his conversation. It made you wonder why Peter and Gwen didn’t spend more time with him. He wasn’t like everyone said at all, it was true he was distant most of the time and even more when he didn’t know people but you found that natural, he had many qualities and peculiarities that made him so unique... you had met many people in your life, you were good at reading them all and you got bored easily of them because of that. Harry wasn’t easy to read, and knowing him meant getting more interested in his intellect and how different it was from the people around you. He wasn’t dumb, and although a genius either, but he was knowledgeable enough in many topics, he had a way with words when he got comfortable and his opinions were quite radical for conventional expectations, he was sensitive and patient, — you utterly adored that about him, much to your dismay.

Humming to the songs both knew, you swung your clasped hands a little bit. Upon approaching the compound your steps slowed down to finish the current song, something that had happened so often throughout the walk that his car was already parked outside.

“You came here on foot in this weather?” A familiar voice screeched as you closed the door.

You stopped abruptly at that. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was worse than liking Harry. “Dad,” you greeted through a small smile, letting your fake boyfriend’s hand go. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I texted you an hour ago.” Your dad’s eyes were on you, brows lifted in expectancy of an explanation.

Harry handed you your cellphone so you could check. Pressing the button to look down at the screen you found a photo of your own self as a lock screen. It had been taken earlier, and you had to admit he was right when he said he was good at taking photos, the lighting in the school’s library wasn’t ideal and still, the angle was so good you didn’t look as bad as you often did and the way you were looking up —surely at him— made your eyes shine.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized behind you, “I gave you mine.”

You turned around to face him, “didn’t we talk about... that?”

He nodded, taking his cellphone from your hand and placing yours instead. “We said I wouldn’t put (Your Favorite Artist) in a plaid shirt as a lock screen.”

“We said you wouldn’t put me.”

“We said you wouldn’t send me a photo of yours to put, never that I couldn’t take it and put it.”

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you nodded. He was right, you should have been more specific. The short conversation wasn’t helping your case, now your dad knew something was going on between you two and you didn’t want him to; it was fake, and you didn’t want to introduce your dad to a fake boyfriend when the relationship wouldn’t last more than a few weeks more because of its nature. To be fair, it would last only a few weeks even if it was real but the point stood, strongly.

You felt so small you could’ve scurried off and in your mind, no one would even realize. Both men stared at each other with curiosity, your dad was trying to intimidate Harry and it would have worked if he hadn’t been Norman Osborn’s son.

Gwen, God bless her, cut through the slight tension. “Your dad was telling us you liked to play doctor as a ki—“ the blonde’s eyes widened as she stood in front of you when your dad moved out of the way to look at her as she spoke, the sight of Harry’s attire wasn’t one she had expected. “Did you wear... your girlfriend’s clothes to school?”

Harry cleared his throat, “out of coincidence.” He nodded to make emphasis, avoiding looking at anyone in particular.

Peter called for Harry. “Can I talk to you in private, Har?”

The tallest young man nodded, casting you a sideways glance. You blinked rapidly, too nervous suddenly. There was nothing wrong with sharing clothes, and Peter knew the reason why you had lent Harry a sweatshirt in the first place — why did you feel like you’d get an anxiety attack at any moment?

Peter leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms against his chest — he knew Harry wouldn’t be intimidated, but he had to get the point across of how serious the topic would be. Harry lifted his eyebrows, signaling for Pete to start talking.

“What are you doing, Harry?” Harry just stared at his best friend. Peter set his jaw. “I told you to stay away from her, and now you’re wearing her clothes to school!”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Harry defended his actions. “You share clothes with Gwen, why can’t I share clothes with (Y/N)?”

“That’s not the point! The point is you shouldn’t be dating her.”

’Here we go again’ Harry thought. Peter had annoyed him with that every time he stared at you, even when he didn’t do it on purpose. “Why, Peter? I’m not forcing her!”

“Because it’s weird! You’re like my brother and she’s like my sister, I know the two of you very well and I know you’re not right for each other.”

Harry huffed, pinching his nose to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “You and Gwen keep saying that but you never say why!” He exploded. “Peter, I adore you, man, but only (Y/N) and I know how our relationship is like.”

“I’m worried,” Peter hurried to explain. It was clear he didn’t mean to offend Harry. “Maybe at least take it slower? She needs a lot of patience, more than we can give her.”

Harry didn’t really get why Peter was telling him the same Gwen did days ago, but he nodded in understanding. His best friend pushed himself off the door and opened it, letting him out of the room first.

The living room was dead silent. Harry observed you weren’t there, but your belongings were. Gwen nodded upward, toward the hallway you had guided him through after your first ‘date’. Seeing him tilt his head, she withdrew her cellphone. His own device buzzed in his jean pocket.

Backyard

He found you with your back against the wall, cornered near the outdoor table. As he got closer , he saw the slight shake of your upper body. Harry silently sat beside you, trying not to stare too much so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. From the corner of his eye, he caught the tremble of your lip and how you bit down into it — he hated that you were trying not to cry in front of him.

You were angry. Gwen had tried to apologize for her impressed state but it was of no use, your dad asked why didn’t he know about your boyfriend which angered you, he hadn’t called in a month — how could you say anything if he didn’t contact you? Your cold answer had been that the relationship was very new, but instead of moving on your dad had to make a comment about how it seemed like it had been longer.

It was like everyone was trying to decide how you should live your life or how you should develop your relationships. You understood that it looked like Harry and you were moving fast, but it wasn’t real — it wasn’t real and it bothered you which made it more fucked up.

The cataclysm was the inquiry that came before that. Your dad had asked if you were happy, prompting Gwen and Tony to perk up to stare at you. All that focus on you had made you nervous, so you explained you were comfortable. It hadn’t been enough for your dad who insisted on speaking about your happiness.

You hadn’t expected him to push it, and you didn’t know where the question had come from when he implied the relationship was too volatile due to its newness. His severe look as he reminded you how fast you were moving had been too shocking, and so you exploded, done with the stupid conversation already, saying you didn’t know if you had ever been happy.

Your own comment had dawned on you like an ice-cold water bucket poured harshly onto the head. It had soaked you in sudden anguish, adding itself to the list of things that chilled you to the bone although this one felt deeper, it seeped into every fiber of your being and still had enough composition to leak in the form of tears.

Harry got closer to you, wrapping an arm around you to pull you even closer. “It’s okay,” Harry murmured. His free hand slid up to trail up and down your back.

You shook your head, it was everything but okay. You didn’t dare to tell him and prayed for the first time in years that no one in the living room had.

The memory of the last time you prayed only worsened your state. You did the only thing that came to your mind and threw your arms around his shoulders, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck as you continued crying.

He massaged the nape of your neck softly with the hand that had been on your upper back. Harry wasn’t very good at consoling people, he was only doing what he would’ve liked someone to do with him. Feeling you sob, he tightened the arm around you to muffle your cries.

“Harry, let me calm her down,” Bucky, whom Harry hadn’t heard come outside, muttered, “she can get angry and it’s not—“ he interrupted himself when the young man shook his head.

Your hands started shaking at Bucky’s words and Harry didn’t think to let you go would help. He realized that when Gwen told him you had deep issues she had meant anger issues or something of sorts by the way Bucky was staring at your back as if you would explode at any second.

Slowly shifting to a kneeling position on the concrete, he flushed your body to his, your face fell onto his shoulder and slid to his chest. He rocked you lightly, only enough for the movement to be processed by your brain without startling you. He knew it would work, he had seen you rock yourself sideways a few times.

As your sobs simmered down, the shake of your hands did too and you placed them firmly on his shoulders. Parting from him to sniff comfortably, you avoided his eyes.

He kissed your forehead, shushing you from apologizing. He would’ve done that at least, and the thought of you doing it almost broke him there. He withdrew an arm off you, tightening the other one so you wouldn’t move. Taking his cellphone out, he texted Gwen again so his friend would bring him his backpack.

Gwen hurried to do it, holding it for him to open it.

��There are Kleenex in the front pocket, give me a few?”

The blonde worked quickly, withdrawing the pocket-sized pack of Kleenex and retrieving a couple from it. Harry took them with his free hand, wiping your tears slowly to not hurt your skin. You giggled nervously when he tried cleaning your nose, snatching the Kleenex from his hand to do it yourself.

You mumbled that you needed to wash your face, prompting him to nod as he moved his arm away from your body. Harry followed you inside, telling you he would be back in a few minutes as you made your way toward the elevator to get to your room.

Washing your face wouldn’t be enough. You needed a hot shower and a Xanax. For the second one, you would have to eat something first but that could be fixed later. The hoodie you took off carefully, laying it softly on the bed. Kicking your sneakers off, you peeled yourself off the remaining clothes quickly, desperate to feel clean again.

The sense of dirtiness didn’t have to do with Harry, or with anyone downstairs. The realization that you had never experienced happiness, that realistically your chances of ever doing it were pretty low... it was too much. It made you feel less than nothing— dirty for once thinking you could be normal, have normal relationships like everyone else did.

One thing, out of the multiple ones, you had always enjoyed of taking showers was its sound and how it could be confused with rain if you closed your eyes tightly enough. Opening the shower, you got in immediately and allowed yourself to breathe slowly.

You were getting dressed when someone knocked on your door, presumably to check on you. Hurrying to get into a pair of shoes, you left the walk-in closet, crossed the bedroom, and swung the door open.

“Hi, so...” Harry scratched the back of his head, worriedly examining your face. “I don’t know which soup is your favorite and I can’t make your favorite soup if I don’t know which is it, can I?”

You stuttered, confused by the fact that he wanted to cook for you. “Uh— you don’t have to.”

“I want to, tell me.”

Sighing heavily, you lifted a hand only to slap it down against your thigh and simply told him what to add and how.

“Got it!” He assured, turning on his heel to go back downstairs.

Harry trotted down the stairs quickly, skipping a few steps. He could feel Peter and Gwen staring at him, sat around the dining table to have a better view. It should’ve made him feel nervous but he felt confident he would do it fine, the instructions were clear and he wasn’t stupid.

What compelled him to make soup for his fake girlfriend who had cried her soul out while clinging to him earlier was a mystery. A mystery as scary as welcomed. He was starting to enjoy showing more of himself to you and in consequence to the people involved in your daily lives — a sharp contrast to what he felt on Saturday. Aware of that, he wondered if he should say something about it.

In three days you would be sat in front of his dad. In three days you would be scared off. In three days he would be back to feel alone. He would lose the warmth and scent he liked so much, the complicit looks, the music recommendations, the intellectual stimulation, the hope for everything to be okay one day.

He wished there was a way to keep it from happening, but the odds were against him. His only chance was that you’d be willing to keep faking it, and how fine he was with just that startled him.

You hesitated going downstairs when you were summoned but ultimately decided to do it so Harry wouldn’t feel bad. Gwen lightly patted your thigh as you sat down in a kind gesture that you realized meant she was glad you were feeling better. She didn’t tell you anything directly, but she very nicely started speaking to everyone around the table so they wouldn’t bother you while you ate.

Harry sat to your other side, participating in the conversation and sporadically giving you his attention to making sure you were okay.

“I think your soup is better than mine,” you communicated to him when you walked him out.

He breathed a laugh, looking down so the blue-ish light wouldn’t highlight his blush. “I’m glad you liked it.”

You nodded, “thank you for going through all that trouble. You didn’t have to.”

He lifted his gaze, leaning more comfortably on the hood of his car. “It wasn't troubling at all.” Harry then added, not able to help it, “are you feeling better?”

No, you weren’t. There were so many things wrong, you would have to face your dad as soon as Harry was on his way home, an explanation as to what was going on with you would ruin everything you had built in the past months, and then... then there was something you could’ve avoided — you were sure you had a crush on your fake boyfriend, also sure he didn’t have a crush on you; you were certain he was into Gwen and had the suspicion the fake dating thing was his attempt of making the blonde jealous. You didn’t blame him, even you thought Gwen was perfect.

“Yeah,” you faked a tight smile. “Nothing a good cry can’t fix.”

He nodded, slowly moving his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harry cursed himself for sounding as unsure as hopeful.

“Have a good night,” you wished him, turning on your heel to get back into hell on earth.

That was an exaggeration, yet you didn’t care because it would feel just like it. But your reality hadn’t changed, you still didn’t know if you had ever felt happiness, you still felt like something was wrong with you, and you still felt there was a piece missing in your life — you had lost so much already that you couldn’t put your finger on what said piece could be nor where could it fit. You just knew you wished it wouldn’t matter.

[marvinswriting]

Coffee burns

Prompt(s): lmao this had prompts but i forgot about them and this fic went in another direction it turned into i love the gang lets write them

G/T mean girls

The co-sized mall- which wasn't very co-sized- was one of my least favorite places to be.  Each individual store had tiny areas with a small cashier and tiny workers and shit, but the mall itself had no form of tiny transportation or tiny recreation areas, like food courts or those random couches you just find to take a break. 

Northshore, like its high school, did not have many tinies. I could name everyone and their moms who live in the tiny neighborhood. 

It's no secret that I hate being in primarily giant places. I mean, I feel like I'd hate high school anyway, but anywhere other than Damian's house just makes me all around nervous.

Now put me in a crowded mall?

Yeah, I'll pass.

Except I didn't. 

Regina had somehow convinced the whole group that a trip to the mall would be fun. I didn't believe her, but the whole group was going so why not. 

We were currently at the food court. Regina was on Gretchen's shoulder eating a fry she stole from Karen. Probably the funniest visual of Regina I have to date. She broke off part of fry yet it was still half the size of her. 

Aaron was in his own conversation with Cady who had her elbows propped up on the table and was holding Aaron in her hands. 

Food court tables are nasty. You won't catch me (or any tiny with common sense) sitting on them. 

I was on Damian's shoulder only partly paying attention to his conversation with Karen. Too busy making faces at Regina to contribute to whatever was going on. 

Yeah, sometimes I can see why Aaron calls us 'literally children'. But hey, we aren't hurting anyone. 

"You sure you don't want food, Janis?" Damian asks. 

I look away from Regina. "Yeah, I'm not hungry."

Like every time I get nervous, the pit in my stomach prevents any appetite. I don't know why I was nervous. I think just being around so many people puts me in a constant state of anxiety, whether they're giants or not. 

"Jesus, Regina!" I watch as she finishes the fucking french fry.

"We don't talk about it." She says. "I already regret that decision."

I lean closer to Damain's neck with a smile. It's nice to have a group where, no matter where we hang out or at what time, it's always fun. 

"Guys," Aaron speaks up, grabbing all out attention. "Who's right. Me or Cady. We're sayin-"

"Cady." Damian and I say in unison.

"You don't even know what we're talking about yet!" 

"Yeah, but it's Cady." Regina says.

Aaron huffs. "Crazy."

Cady gives a good-natured chuckle and brings Aaron to sit on his shoulder. "Everyone done eating?"

There a chorus of yeahs from around the table. 

"Can we stop at forever 21?" Gretchen asks. "I know its not a store for all of us but there's a shirt I wanna get while it's still on sale but Regina needs to see it first."

Damian shrugs lightly but it's enough to make me tip a bit. I ignore Regina laughing at me.

"Doesn't matter to me." Karen says.

Cady waves her hand. "I don't mind."

"Cady's my ride. I gotta go where she goes." Aaron says.

I shrug. "Sure."

There aren't many tinies in high school, but they're also is a smaller group of giants. All people of all ages go to the mall, and most tinies avoided it like the plague. So the ratio of tinies to giants is even greater here. 

In high school, you only get in trouble for fucking with tinies when you're caught. In the mall, you only get in trouble for shoplifting or doing coke in the back of the JC Pennies while on a lunch break from your job at Spencer's.

True story.

The kid moved on to be a teacher in the next town over. He's got kids now.

The point I'm trying to get to is, even if the mall did accommodate more for tinies, I don't think we'd start going. It's dangerous. 

Damian wasn't wearing his jacket and I had nowhere to hide. I think that stressed me more than anything. 

Whatever it's fine.

Damian was wearing a sweatshirt. I was sitting pushed against his neck with the hood pulled over my legs for warmth. Its tits cold in the middle of December and the mall is fucking air-conditioned. Why? Who knows. Not me.

We walk past a trio of women I can only describe as "karens". Not our Karen. The shoulder haircut, let me speak to your manager type vibe. The gross karens. 

One of them eyes me and I can't help but pull Damian's hoodie further over me, the knot in my stomach is back.

"Young man?" She asks as Damian walks past.

For fucks sakes.

Damian turns to her, and I don't even need to look at his face to know he's unamused. We both kinda know what's coming.

"Are you aware of the tiny on your shoulder?"

"Yes. I am." He states flatly.

"Is it bothering you?"

It? Well, that's better than space dyke I guess.

"No, she's my friend." Damian states. "Why, is there an issue here?"

The rest of our friends have walked away without noticing Damian got stopped.

"How can you stand with tinies?" One of the ladies speaks up.

Wow. Rude.

I leaned against Damian's neck more, pulling the hoodie over me fully like a blanket. I wasn't offended, just bored. These ladies can go on for hours about how 'tinies don't deserve rights'. 

"How can you stand against them?" Damian retaliates. He begins walking away, ignoring the offended gawks he received.

I laugh a little, looking over his shoulder.

"You showed them." I cheer weakly.

"Sure did." Damian nods catching up to the group. They were still at the entrance to forever 21.

"Where did you guys go?" Cady asked. "We turn around and you're just gone!"

"Got stopped by annoying old ladies," Damian says with a dramatic eye roll.

"Don't fuck with Damian and his tiny!" I point to myself with a grin. "They called me an it."

"That's original." Aaron remarks. 

I watch as a soft smile passes Damian's face at the 'his tiny'. After we had the dreadful emotion talk, he was a lot more open to the idea that his tiny her tiny was not as self belittling as it seemed. When it came from a tiny of course.

"If I was their size, I could and would punch them." Regina said from Gretchen's shoulder.

"I dunno man, some of them were pretty short. I think you could." Damian smiled.

"Hell yeah!" I cheer.

"Well, now that mom friend and reckless are here, let's go see that shirt, Gretch." Regina says motioning further into the store.

Everyone follows Gretchen into the store. Even though we're only here for Gretchen a shirt caught Regina's eye that 'Cady would look so fucking hot in'. 

I'm still tucked carefully under Damian's hood, watching as Regina makes Gretchen and Cady try on the two shirts. Cady walks over to Damian holding out Aaron. "Can you?"

Damian grins. "Yeah, shoulder next to Janis?" He asks Aaron as Cady hands him off.

"I won't shove you like Regina!" I throw jazz hands and both boys laugh.

"Sure, shoulder."

Because I'm curled up so close to Damian's neck, Aaron can sit in the center without it feeling too crowded. We watch as Cady walks out first in a shirt.

Its pink, obviously, and loose. The pale pink brought out the constant rosey shades in Cady's cheeks. It shows some mid-drift and- Jesus christ I'm gay.

"Cute!" Damian says. I pull the hoodie up in a vain attempt to hide how hard I was blushing, 

Cady went back in to change as Gretchen came out. She was wearing a shirt. It was whatever.

As the two girls got up to pay I could feel the stressed feeling fade. I pushed Damian's hoodie off me a bit. Even as a barely co-sized mall, the fun nature of the group didn't leave. It was nice.

Cady walks over to retrieve Aaron. "What'd you think of the shirt, Janis?" She asks, scooping up Aaron wordlessly. 

"It- it was pretty," I say, trying to will my face from getting hot. "It looked cute on you. Nice color."

Damian chuckles and I elbow his neck slightly. 

Cady grins. "Thanks, Janis!"

"No problem." My face is red again.

It's so red she can tell oh god why am I like this why-

Cady gives one last smile before walking away to catch up with Gretchen and Karen. Damian does too but he stays a bit behind to talk with me.

"Smooth one, Janis."

"I didn't lie. It looks fucking good on her."

"And I'm the too gay to function one."

"I was functioning! Just poorly."

"Sure." Damian teases. 

I huff crossing my arms as a hand scoops me up.

"You know I love you." Damian says holding me to his chest as he weaves through a crowd. There's a lot of shoulder bumping and I'm glad to be here instead of up there. Or more likely on the floor. "What's going on?" He asks catching up to the group.

Gretchen shrugs, Regina in her hands. Both tinies seemed to be in a similar relocated-for-safety- position.

"The crowd came out of nowhere," Karen explained. 

It didn't seem like anyone was standing waiting for something, more like we just his a bit of traffic where too many people are all walking in different directions. 

We pull over and sit down on one of those charging phone stations with a couple of couches and a table. We're gonna wait for the crowd to pass.

Damian sets me gently on the table in front of the sofa and sits down. 

Aaron joins me on the table but Regina stays on Gretchen's shoulder with a huff after being told she isn't allowed to push me off.

We sit and talk for a while, waiting for the crowd to clear out when I see the old ladies from before approaching the area.

Great.

They were sporting coffee from the shitty vegan cafe next to the Starbucks. Pretty sure old cranky Karens are the only thing keeping the store open.

The way the seating area was laid out had two couches with a coffee table in the center. 

The 'karens' sat on the other sofa. While I didn't feel great about having my backs to them, I could see Damian and Cady both eyeing them nervously. 

"Um," A cranky and high pitched voice speaks up from behind me. "Maybe you shouldn't put your dirty tinies on the table."

And this is where possession became an issue.

"We don't own them," Damian said dully. 

Hell yeah, baby.

"They're also cleaner than most things on that table, including the table," Cady says, but both her and Damian lean forward in their seats a little anyway.

"Then where am I supposed to put my coffee?" Another voice whines.

"It's a big table, Miss," Damian says. "They don't take up much room."

"You're mother did a poor job in raising you, young man." One of the ladies speak.

You insult Sherry Hubbard one more time and I'll stab you with one of those plastic coffee mixers. As much as I wanna vocalize my opinion and get violent, I figure its best I left this one to Damian.

"My mother taught me the value of living beings. Tiny or not." Damian says calmly, but I can tell he's as pissed as I am.

There's shuffling behind me and a huge cup of coffee gets slammed down next to me.

I'm sorry, what?

Out of the huge fucking table, you chose half an inch away from me.

It's not even the worst part.

Scalding hot coffee splashes over the edge a bit, landing on my arm and steeping through my jacket.

I shake my arm, jumping back with a yell. 

"Janis!" Fear flashes in Damian's eyes as he reaches over and scoops me off the table. "What was that for?" He asked one of the ladies who looked very smug with themselves.

"All I did was place my coffee on the coffee table."

I bit my lip, slipping off my jacket despite all my inner protest to never take it off. The coffee drenched my entire sleeve and left it burning hot. My arm underneath the coat was red and splotchy. 

Aaron, who had been transported to Cady's shoulder the second this got violent, looked down at me and gasped.

It didn't hurt too bad, it just looked bad. It felt like sunburn, not blistering burns.

Damian looks down at me and I can see the fear in his eyes turn to anger.

"Do you even care that you hurt her?" 

The lady shrugged. "Not particularly, no."

"Yet if somebody spilt boiling hot coffee on a dog, you'd flip shit I assume." Cady said. There was an edge to her voice. Cady never cursed. She's gotta be pissed. 

"Somebody spilt coffee on a dog?" Our Karen asked with extreme worry.

"No. Somebody spilt boiling coffee on Janis." Gretchen explains.

"Janis, that's awful!" Karen throws a sympathetic look at me.

I give her a thumbs up knowing she can't hear me.

It hurts to move my arm. I poke it. The skin stays white in contrast to the red around it momentarily. Just like sunburn. 

It'll be worse tomorrow, for sure.

I tune back into the conversation after doing a quick harm check.

I don't think I've ever seen Cady chew somebody out so hard. It isn't long before the trio mysteriously has somewhere to be.

The walk away and Cady leans back into the sofa. "One thing I don't miss about Africa? Entitled Karens."

"They disrespect my name." Karen agreed. 

"You okay, Jan?" Damian asked, holding me up to eye level with him. 

His hands were laid pretty flat like he was scared if he touched me he'd hurt me.

"I'm fine," I say. "For now."

While I may hate high school, I do miss Regina being in charge. Since the whole gang kinda got more open about our friendship with eating lunch altogether or walking the halls with each other, people stopped bothering Damian and I. 

Regina George's friends are off-limits.

But the mall isn't high school. 

I lay backways in Damian's hands, looking at the ceiling.

"I remember why I don't come here often," I mumble.

Damian laughs, but the stress on his face doesn't ease.

"We should start heading home," Gretchen says. "It was a nice day, lets ditch before more shit goes wrong. You know our luck."

"Yeah," Cady laughs. "No kidding."

"The bad stuff always happens to me!" I groan.

I watch as Cady silently slips Aaron into the chest pocket on her flannel.

He fell asleep.

Lucky bitch.

"I want to take a nap." I say, turning on my side. The coffee burned arm is in the air.

"Sucks that Damian doesn't have his jacket." Regina teased as everyone gets up.

Damian grins. "Still have pockets though."

Damian shifts me onto one hand as he gets up, lowing me to his hoodie pocket.

I typically only go here post-panic attack or something, when I need to hide way but don't want to get claustrophobic with something as snug as the chest pocket. 

Still, I'm not complaining.

Damian's hand stays in the pocket, cupped gently around me. I lean further into his hand, without my jacket on I feel cold as fuck. His hands, as always, are warm and soft. 

His fingers curl around me protectively and I can't help but laugh softly. 

Leave to Damian to worry about me over even the little things.

Hot coffee is by far not the worst injury I’ve gotten over my years. But I could trip and fall on a flat surface or fall from someone's shoulders and Damian would get equally stressed about both of them.

I smelt like burnt black coffee but it was overpowered by the familiar comfort of Damian. 

Damian's thumb ran up and down my uninjured arm softly as he continued on with his day like there wasn't a tiny being in his pocket.

The conversation outside of the pocket was muffled. Occasionally Damian spoke up, clearer than the rest, but even his voice was hushed so I could fall asleep.

And to be honest? I wasn't hard to. 

Gretchen was right, we had a really fun day.

A little coffee burn can't change that.

Especially if it means my day ends with a nap.

And I'll probably get to stay at Damian's then, where I can see his mother, the wonderful lady who taught him about the value of lives, no matter what some old karen says. 

I wrap my arm around one of Damian's fingers as I let myself fall asleep.

i had so much fun writing this fic while yelling at bear about pocket content,,,,its not a g/t mg fic with out pocket time

@realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @smallsoysauce @sourishlemons

[tss-grimmverse]

Chapter 3: Lilac

i wish you out of the woods

and into a picture with me

The Youngstown Grimms had made it sound like Logan possessed arcane knowledge, and would cast some sort of protective spell over Virgil. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this whole protection business being based on proximity.

Had those Grimms warned Logan that they’d signed Virgil up for college classes? Did they even know how Logan’s “protection” worked? It took Virgil nearly the entire allotted thirty “digestion” minutes to muster the courage to bring it up again.

Honestly, with his track record, that wasn’t so bad.

“So…” he drawled, as the two were slipping on their shoes to leave. “How is this gonna work, anyway?”

“This?” Logan pocketed his phone.

“Me, staying here, with you.” Virgil gestured between them. “Like, do I have to stay within a certain distance for your protection mojo to work?”

“For the time being, yes,” Logan explained as they exited the apartment and started down the stairs. “My long term plan, however, is to make a charm that will shield you in my stead.”

That didn’t sound so bad.

“But I will be able to leave?” Virgil clarified. “Like, during the day or whatever?”

As much as he didn’t mind sharing space with an absurdly gorgeous…if a bit standoffish…guy, being trapped inside day after day would drive him up the wall.

Logan made a noise of assent.

“The charm I intend to make will ensure that our arrangement does not overly restrict your freedom. Shelley has informed me of your intention to attend fall classes at Stetson University.”

‘My’ intention, sure.

Truthfully, art school had simply been the cover story to explain why Virgil would suddenly abandon Ohio and his Faire family. The Youngstown Grimms warned him that the whole Ren Faire circuit wasn’t safe for him anymore, not even as far away as Florida, not when his master had already tracked him down once. He still couldn’t imagine what strings the Grimms had had to pull to get him into a fancy, expensive-as-fuck university on such short notice, with only a GED to his name and no other transcripts…but they had, and they’d told him all his expenses would be covered besides.

Virgil was smart enough to recognize an opportunity when he saw it…and too selfish to turn it down.

“Oh, I suppose I should ask.” Logan paused before they left the stairwell. “How sensitive are you to iron?”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck.

“Cars don’t bother me, if that’s what you’re implying. Most metal doesn’t if it’s refined enough.”

“You are fortunate.” Logan absently thumbed one of his pointed ear tips. “I hypothesize that my sensitivity lies somewhere between that of a true faery and an older changeling. My disguise glamour protects me somewhat, so driving around town is not a problem, but a cross country trip would be…taxing.”

Virgil winced. “That still sucks.”

Logan hummed, adjusted his glasses, and they left the stairwell for the overly bright, bleached parking lot.

Florida, ugh. Virgil squinted in the unrelenting sunlight. No wonder Logan’s house brownie wears sunglasses. He would need to buy a pair of his own, and soon.

Logan unlocked a nearby blue Honda Fit and they climbed in. Virgil observed how Logan’s dark, graceful hands did not linger on either the door handle or the metal seatbelt buckle.

“I can eat stuff cooked in ordinary pots,“ Virgil added as they pulled out of the parking lot. “But cast iron skillets, man…” He shuddered.

“An iron skillet would outright poison me.” Logan grimaced. “Even heavily refined steel is distasteful to cook in.”

That’s why he owns a copper kettle, Virgil realized. Probably all his cooking utensils are copper or aluminum.

“I was shoved into a wrought iron gate once at a Faire,” Virgil went on. “Burned like a bitch, and I only touched it for a few seconds. I haven’t really tested my sensitivities beyond that.”

“I recommend against it.” Logan answered Virgil’s raised eyebrow with a sharp look. “The enmity between iron and Fae is an ancient one. You won’t develop a tolerance.”

Something in the tone spoke of past experience to Virgil. Another little interesting tidbit about the man he’d moved in with.

His charged iPod and headphones lay nestled in his hoodie pocket, but for once, Virgil chose not to tune out the world. Instead he observed Logan’s long fingers on the faux-leather steering wheel, the flex of muscle in his forearms, the crease between his eyebrows as he navigated downtown Deland’s narrow Main Street.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Logan said after a long silence, as though weighing the words. Which of course made Virgil’s anxiety skyrocket.

“What fae abilities do you possess?”

Virgil’s mouth twisted; he’d been dreading that question.

His own hands, caressing bits of straw, color and softness bursting from the hollow shafts. Sewing needles and the dark, metallic scent of blood. Mocking words and cruel fae lips and under it all his power, flowing from his chest into waiting bodies…

Dolls. Abominations.

“I make flowers,” he answered at last.

Logan glanced at him and arched an eyebrow.

Virgil sighed and patted his pockets, finally plucking a loose thread from his hoodie sleeve when nothing else turned up. He laid the tiny string across his palm, and mentally pulled. Warmth blossomed in his chest, like unfolding flower petals, racing down his arm, rippling under his skin, seeping into the thread he held.

It quivered, and expanded, buds bubbling along its length before silently exploding into leaves, the end growing bulbous and green and peeling into delicate violet petals and a yellow center.

He stuck the newly created forget-me-not, stem barely as long as his pinky finger, behind his ear.

“Go on, you can say it,” he challenged, chancing a look at Logan, whose expression hadn’t changed. “Sixteen fucking years in Arcadia, and I end up with the most useless changeling power in existence.”

It was safer, disparaging his magic like it really was nothing but flower-making. Those Grimms in Ohio would never have helped me if they knew what I was, and why my master wanted me back.

The half-faery’s eyes were a mystery behind his glasses. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

But then they were pulling up to an ordinary suburban house and Logan was parking the car, and Virgil had a whole different, slightly more ordinary situation to fret over.

Interacting with people.

“Come,” Logan said, getting out. “Time to meet Nicodemus.”

Virgil dearly hoped ’Nicodemus’ wasn’t another brownie, or a pixie or a hobgoblin, or…

To Virgil’s vast relief, Nicodemus turned out to be a brown Labrador that barked joyously at Logan’s arrival and spent the next five minutes on its hind legs, eagerly licking the half-faery’s face.

Logan rubbed the dog’s head, heedless of the spit bath, and exchanged words and money with the gray-haired woman of the house. Virgil gathered that she often watched Logan’s dog when he was away. The two of them, dog bouncing between, carried a crate full of hairy blankets, some dishes, and several toys out to Logan’s car.

Virgil hung back in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets, hoping he wouldn’t be called over to socialize. He stiffened when woman gestured towards him, and Logan said something at length. Virgil shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets, wondering what excuses Logan gave to people for his changeling houseguests over the years.

Nicodemus trotted over, eyeing Virgil with curious black eyes.

“Hey…boy.” Virgil gingerly held out a hand. The dog sniffed it, sneezed, and gave his fingers a few licks. (Virgil grimaced and wiped them on his hoodie).

“I was hoping he would like you.”

Virgil startled, having not heard Logan approach. “Is that…what the licking means?”

The half-faery’s mouth twitched in a tiny smile.

“Thank you again, Stephanie!” he called, waving as the woman went inside. “Nic, come!”

Nic leaped obediently into the car’s back seat and settled with his snout just above Virgil’s shoulder.

“I suppose it is a bit late to inquire whether you are amenable to sharing a living space with an animal,” Logan commented in an uncharacteristically wry voice.

Virgil shrugged, reaching back to pet Nic’s neck.

“Dogs are okay, I guess. I’ve never had a pet, so…I don’t know much about taking care of them or whatever.”

Logan waved a hand. “I would expect no such thing. Nic is my responsibility.”

“Um, speaking of responsibility.” Virgil rubbed at the back of his neck. “I was thinking I should probably start looking for a job? So I can, you know, help out with rent and stuff?”

“Why?”

There was no judgement in Logan’s tone; only curiosity.

“I dunno, I just don’t want to be a freeloader.” Virgil shrugged, his shoulders hunched. “The Youngstown Grimms are already paying for all my school stuff and honestly I feel kinda bad about that.”

“I wouldn’t.” Logan raised an eyebrow at Virgil shocked face. “Do you truly think that an organization run by changelings, some of whom can literally transform physical objects into other objects, would have issues obtaining something as mundane as money?”

Virgil’s mouth twisted and he touched the flower still stuck in his ear…the forget-me-not he’d grown from magic and a bit of loose thread. Maybe making random objects bloom wasn’t terribly useful…but sometimes he forgot that such power was still extraordinary from a normal perspective.

Knowing that didn’t make his insecurities go away.

“Look, I dunno what they told you about me, but I was on the road with a Renaissance Faire for nearly two years before De…” Virgil swallowed, unwilling to say even the made-up name aloud. “Before my faery master found me. We didn’t have a lot and we never stayed in one place for long, but it was a good life, you know? They were the closest people I’d had to a family on the outside. And we all worked hard; you had to, to keep the Faire running. Everyone earned their keep.”

Logan hummed, rubbing a finger absently on the steering wheel. “Do you fear letting others pay your way will give them too much control over your life?”

Virgil picked at a rip in his skinny jeans. Logan was not as oblivious as his stilted language would suggest.

“I…yeah. I guess?”

“I am financially solvent enough to support myself and anyone the Grimms send to me, for however long that individual needs to stay.” Logan shot Virgil a look, his stormy eyes softening slightly. “However, I will not be offended if you wish to obtain employment and ‘earn your keep’, as you put it.”

Virgil leaned his head against the window glass, his lungs tight with memories, with fears, with feeling like any joy he scratched out of the barren soil of this existence would always be one faery whim away from being crushed.

Again.

“It’s just, last week I had a life,” he admitted softly. “Now suddenly it’s gone, and I feel a little…lost, I guess.”

Logan drummed thoughtful fingers on the steering wheel.

“Where were you initially rescued?” he asked. “Not four days ago, but when you first left Arcadia?”

Virgil didn’t quite suppress a shudder at the word Arcadia.

“Somewhere in Pennsylvania, I think,” he answered lowly. “Some Grimms…not Youngstown; a different chapter…shut down an illegal trade between two minor Courts. My master was…”

He swallowed, unwilling to admit his faery master had been a fetch-dealer, that the operation those Grimms shut down that day had been a fetch trade. Trafficking in human dolls was the only Unseelie vice specifically forbidden by the Accords themselves. Faeries caught using them in their kidnappings earned an immediate price on their heads. And human thralls forced by said faeries to make those dolls…well.

The usually went mad.

The whole mess carried a well-deserved stigma.

“Let’s just say he was involved in a lot of shady Unseelie shit,” Virgil muttered, looking out the window again.

Logan’s fingers traced the wheel again, his gaze on the road but somehow also miles away.

“You escaped in the confusion?” he prompted.

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah. I hitchhiked to upstate New York and met old Betsy in a bar.” He smiled at the memory. “She introduced me to her Faire buddies and the rest was history.”

“And you were with them for two years?”

Virgil frowned.

“Yeah. What’s with the twenty questions?”

They’d reached the apartment lot; Logan turned off the car.

“Shelley and the Youngstown Grimms were wise to send you to me,” he said cryptically as they got out and opened the back hatch. It felt like the half-faery was changing the subject, though Virgil couldn’t say why.

“You know, before I left, Shelley told me that you asked for me.” Virgil narrowed his eyes. “When they told you my situation, they said you wanted me to come.”

Logan wore an unidentifiable expression as he hefted Nic’s crate from the back. Virgil moved to help. The shared burden made it easy for the half-faery to not meet Virgil’s gaze as they moved upstairs, Nic following placidly at their heels.

“I wanted you to come because I am in a unique position to keep you safe,” Logan allowed at last, adjusting his glasses with one hand. “Both because of my heritage, and because Florida is such a long distance from your previous life.”

Virgil liked to think he had an excellent trollshit detector, mostly because his Fae master had been, among other things, a master liar. Body language, tics, tone of voice. Everyone had tells, even stoic half-faeries with extraordinary control over their facial expressions.

Logan was not lying…but he was definitely fae-dancing around something.

“If we are able to keep you out of sight long enough,” Logan went on, “it is possible that he will give up looking. As much as faeries love the chase, a single human thrall is, for better or for worse, simply not worth their time in the end.”

Unless that thrall was a fetch-maker.

Virgil swallowed hard. Well, if Logan wasn’t going to share his secret, Virgil sure as hell wasn’t revealing his own.

“So you’re saying I’m not worth their time?” he quipped instead, attempting to lighten the mood as they reached the top of the stairs. “Now I’m not sure whether to be relieved or insulted.”

Logan cocked his head. “I…had meant the words to be comforting. Did they not come across as such?”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“How are you that literal? I was kidding.”

“Oh.” Logan frowned, shifting the crate to adjust his glasses again. “My colleagues tell me I am, in their words, ‘spectacularly’ inept at detecting sarcasm.”

Virgil swallowed a smirk. No shit, Sherlock.

“You’re gonna have a hard time with me, then.”

“Well, surely with sufficient communication we will…” Logan trailed off, and narrowed his eyes. “Ah. That was another joke.”

“You’re learning.” Virgil made a finger gun with one hand, prompting an answering eye roll.

Logan fished out his keys and the two guided the crate into the apartment. Nic bounded down the hallway and into Logan’s room; a smiling, irate Logan on his heels, grumbling that he’d better stay off the bed.

For a moment, Virgil breathed in the pleasant scent of the apartment, and listened to the soft sounds of Remy snoring in his cabinet, and allowed something like hope to lighten his heart.

He missed Ohio, but…this really wasn’t so bad.

“Oh for goodness sakes, really Nic?” Logan’s irritated voice drifted into the living room, followed by the man himself, holding a mangled stuffed animal. “That dog, I swear. Every time I have to leave him in another’s care, he destroys at least one of his toys.”

He made to toss the toy in the garbage, but Virgil scurried forward to stop him.

“Hang on, let me see,” he murmured, taking the toy and turning it over in his hands. It was a stuffed lion, chubby and smiling, with a squeaker in its belly. Stuffing was poking out of several messy rips, and the head was dangling by a mere thread.

“Yeah, I can definitely fix this. Do you have needle and thread?”

Logan nodded and went back into his bedroom, which Virgil barely noticed as he pressed fluff back inside and located all the busted stitches with practiced fingers. Logan reappeared with a sewing kit.

Virgil settled on the couch with the toy.

For a time the world faded; there was only cotton, yielding under his fingers; ragged edges folded and hidden; slick metal needle parting cloth and perfect stitches pulled tight. The satisfaction of tying the last knot and examining the body, ready to breathe life into its flowery heart and flaccid limbs, hear its first cries…

Virgil pulled out of the memory with a gasp, hand closing reflexively around the repaired lion, making it squeak. Slowly his surroundings filtered back in, easing the panicky tightness in his chest: couch, counter, front door, Remy’s cabinet. He was safe and out of Arcadia, out of Arcadia, and Deceit does not know where I am.

Logan sat in the chair opposite the couch, eating a sandwich and watching Virgil. A plate piled with more sandwiches sat on the coffee table between them.

How did he have time to make all those? How…how long has he been watching me?

Virgil flexed his sore right hand, trying to look casual but borderline freaking out on the inside.

He could have seen everything, I was seconds away from bringing that stuffed animal to life because it’s been so long and I got caught up, he’s gonna know what my power really is…

“Um, I think I’m done,” he muttered, gripping the lion and making it squeak again. An answering bark from the back bedroom made Virgil startle.

“May I?” Logan asked, holding his hand out for the toy.

Virgil held his breath as Logan pulled at the stitching, tugged at the head, waiting for the half-faery to call out how weird he’d just acted. But Logan only nodded.

“Excellent. This is one of Nic’s favorites; I know he will appreciate having it back in one piece.”

He stood and flashed Virgil a half smile, one that made his pulse race.

“Eat, I made plenty,” Logan added, gesturing at the plate and then disappearing into his bedroom.

Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and ran shaking hands through his hair. The fading tightness in his lungs shifted into dull, stabbing pinpricks, making him hiss softly. It felt like thorns, choking his heart, brushing his ribcage with every movement.

The needle he still held in his fingers swelled and burst into flower: a single bunch of tiny purple blossoms framed by soft emerald leaves. Virgil bit his lip hard, tasting blood.

Lilac.

No, no, no, I had my power under control, I swore never again…he clenched his fists hard, crushing the delicate flower stalk, nails imprinting on his palms. Virgil focused on that pain, determined to push the dangerous feelings down, focused on his breathing, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight, come on, Virgil…

The stabbing ebbed and he drew a deep, unsteady breath.

I’m safe here.

I’m safe.

And I can’t ever tell Logan what I was.

Purple lilac: first emotions of love

[momofaddict]

Well, I'm almost 5 months in. The struggle seems to get worse instead of better, which I halfway expected. I felt so numb in the beginning and distracted with having to take care of a baby at 52 years old.

It is absolutely bizarre the range of emotions that I have felt. I'm sickened by the relief that I feel not having a deal with her addiction anymore. I'm excited, exhausted, and totally feel robbed of the grandmother experience that I've spoken of so many times. I feel embarrassed and like a shitty grandma that I feel relief when my ex takes the baby oftentimes. He never, ever, ever seems exhausted or ready for a break the way that I do. I love that baby with every fiber of my being. But I think I have not yet mourned the loss of the life that I thought I was building for myself. Not to mention my ex barely works at all, so it's easy for him to have energy and excitement for taking the baby as often as possible. He has his own business painting houses. And between losing his daughter, his own depression, and the coronavirus pandemic, he has hardly worked lately. So on top of everything else, I'm paying his bills, because without that, he's unable to help me with the baby.

After Melody died we decided as a family that it would be best that my ex move into the dreaded condo. This is the same condo that my ex-mother-in-law lived in when she had her heart attack. And the same condo that my daughter overdosed in. But that fucking condo is paid off, it was bought with cash. So, because my ex was essentially homeless, he has to live there if he's going to help me. And the only bills are the HOA, and the utilities. Plus there's the added expense of Melody's car that my ex is driving, the car payments that go with it along with the insurance payments. So I'm literally paying all of those plus my own bills so I can have a few days on my own... Until the long awaited inheritance comes from my ex's mother's estate -which will be just enough for my ex to buy a van for his business, get his teeth fixed, and overall get back on his own 2 feet - then my paying his bills stops. Should be in June sometime.

I feel sickened even saying all this. I should be elated to have Melody's flesh and blood offspring in my life, and I am most of the time. Not to mention this kid is amazing. He is so joyful, completely has Melody's spirit, and is about as easy as a baby can be. But that doesn't make my struggle any less.

The level of guilt that I feel because I'm relieved when I have a break from the baby is reprehensible to me. The level of sadness and missing my daughter is incomprehensible to me every time that baby learns something new or does something new. I can literally hear her voice, her laughter, her love for her child every time he pulls up to stand or laughs or crawls or eats his dinner with his own hands or when he babbles "Mamamamama". That's by far when I miss her the most.

I also feel super guilty when I think about if she was still here, knowing the downward spiral that she was on before she overdosed. There's this devil and angel sitting on my shoulders arguing with each other about how I don't miss the addict, but I do miss my daughter. How do you reconcile that? I don't think you can.

I feel like if she was still here, she would be making my life a living hell as an addict, and would have probably died from Corona, because of the major lung and heart damage that she had done to herself, along with the reckless life that goes with being a heroin addict. But near the end of her life, she was literally fighting everyday to find long-term rehab. And what if she had gotten in? I feel like we would have been living the life that we had been for over a year that was clean and sober and fun as hell. There are just so many questions, and scenarios, it boggles my mind.

I found out a lot of stuff after she passed away. I found out that she was far more down the rabbit hole then I thought. She was living the addict life 100% over the last two to three months before she died. I thought that her grandmother getting sick and dying was the catalyst, for the most part. But now, as I said before, she was completely and utterly relapsed. How on God's green earth, after everything I've seen and been through, could I still be so fucking blind? And the pain doesn't stop there. Just the other day I found that my toolbox was missing. She clearly hocked it.

I'm just posting because I don't care what groups are out there for support, I still never feel like I can speak my brutal truth. Not to mention, groups like Nar-Anon and others are all about the God talk. I'm so fucking over the God talk. Can I just find a fucking group where we can just let loose of our feelings no matter how grotesque they are and not have to pray at the beginning in the end of it? I'm always strangely comforted to know when other people have been through what I've been through, while still being sick that this could happen to more than one person, not to mention hundreds of thousands of people. That's the only real reason I want to join any group at all, is just so I don't feel alone in all this mess. So in my mind, I have nowhere else to go accept my Tumblr blog.

I'm so lost, and so alone. I really, genuinely do not know how to deal with my shit. I need to be up and happy and perky for this baby, and for the most part I am. But when it's bedtime, and I'm playing one of mommy's videos for the baby while he drinks his bedtime bottle, he always smiles at a certain part, and I'm shattered every time. There's not a single soul on this Earth that knows how much pain I'm in, but not in the sense that one might think. Yes, I miss my baby girl more than words can express. But I'm so fucking glad the addict is gone. And I feel disgusted even saying that. I also feel a lot of guilt around not promoting his father's memories at all. There's a lot of resentment there, but I feel like the right thing to do is to make sure he remembers his father too. How do I resolve that?

And other logistical thoughts come to mind. Like I am going to be 70 when he turns 18. I'm going to die when he's fairly young (assuming I don't die younger of a car accident or some other stupid shit). It's so not fair to him. And I think about what am I supposed to tell him throughout the years? He's going to know who mama is thru videos on my phone, the pictures on the wall, and the gravesite that we visit all the time. I don't know how I'm going to answer the questions this sweet baby is going to have. I don't know how to tell him how much she loved him and make him understand that she did not choose drugs over him. Drugs chose her over life. I also need to make sure that I put in my will who will take the baby if I die. Let's look at the options... There's my sister who has desperately wanted a child over the last 10 years or so and is 48 years old. She's had mental health issues for as long as she's been alive. To put it bluntly, she's incompetent of having a child full time. She is also narcoleptic I think I mentioned before. Sorry honey, you've got to stay awake for this one. Then there's my ex, who loves the baby equally as I do. But he doesn't have a responsible bone in his body and is an anarchist and conspiracy theorist. He's incapable of taking care of a baby or child from a responsibility standpoint, not to mention the crazy shit he would put in his head as he gets older. Finally there's my son. He's pretty much the only one I would trust to do right by this child. But he's made it quite clear that he's never wanted to be a father. I did ask him about it, and he said that he would accept the task if it came to it. But I want someone who wants the baby, not has to take the baby, not just someone who would accept the responsibility.

I need help, no question about it. But no matter how many Google searches that I do, I can't find a single place or counselor where I can get very specific help for my issues. I don't want to let this baby down. I don't want to fuck him up either. I want to be the very best grandma and mother that I can be for him.

What do I do?

Oh and finally, I've been drinking a lot more - or more frequently. If it was up to me, I'd drink daily. Quantity wise, it's not that much. At most a bottle of wine, mostly when my ex has the baby, but sometimes after he's asleep for the night. I'm not trying to get drunk, per se. Just trying to unclench my muscles and stress. Sometimes it eases my sadness, sometimes it exacerbates it. Plus it helps me fall asleep, which has been a challenge for me since entering menopause. I take a 1/4 bar (.5mg) of Xanax frequently before bed to help sleep, and never up my dose (too scared). But if I skip a couple of days, by the 3rd day I have withdrawals that feel likey old anxiety attacks. I take a quarter & the symptoms fade. Well ain't that just the last thing that I need! I want to phase it out, but as long as I have sleep issues, a job, and a baby, I don't see how I can. I skip days purposely so it remains effective without taking higher doses. Now that I'm working from home, this would be a great time to phase out. But every time I try to skip, I'm tossing and turning all night - which is torture.

I just wish I could get into a yoga routine or any other exercise routine, as well as meditation. I know that that would help all of my issues. But gumption is not exactly my forte right now.

[hilllsnholland]

Bucket List - Prequel

Wc: 3.8k

Warnings: swearing, drinking, depression, anxiety, and other mental health talk 

Summary: Tom has no idea what he wants to do with his life. He’s stuck in the suburban town of Creekview with Harrison and two idiots friends. No passion, no drive, nothing but a beer by the poolside. Until he meets Y/N, the Deaf rebel who has a bucket list she needs to complete by the end of the summer. The two come together to make their last summer of freedom the best Creekview has ever seen. What could possibly go wrong? Or more so, what could possibly go right?

Dashboard Confessional’s ‘Hands Down’ played through a wireless speaker while Tom took another sip of beer. Although American beer did not have the same kick as England’s, it would have to do. Nothing was the same here, which was the main reason why Tom was drinking four days out of the week. Since the semester ended a week ago it was a blur of sun, drinking, and constant calls from his parents.

Tom tilted back in the lounge chair, sunglasses sitting perfectly on his face. From the distance, he could hear someone calling his name but choose to ignore it. Tom amplified the sound and sighed. Watching the pool water ripple was becoming mind numbing. But that was the point of doing all of this. Acting like he was a bum on vacation was a facade to mask the over presenting battle in his head. Tom could not stop the pestering thoughts and anxiety from creeping up on him, so he pushed it down with alcohol.

_

Tom sat lazily in the stiff counselor chair. He had been waiting there for almost twenty minutes now, unsure of what the reasoning was. This was college, not regular high school. Why was he being sent to the office? Maybe they did things differently in America but this felt strange. Every few minutes he would look over his shoulder to see if anyone was coming his way. Tom wasn’t a nervous person, but he felt like he was under arrest. Something was definitely not right.

“Mr. Holland?”

Tom snapped straight up and turned to see the Head of Counseling, Mrs. Scott, reaching her hand out to greet him. He shook her hand, standing up awkwardly and following her as she took a seat at her desk.

“Am I in some sort of trouble?”

Mrs. Scott, who usually wears a bright smile, is flat lipped as she types away on her computer. Tom had met her at orientation with Harrison. She was a middle-aged woman who was wise and a school favorite at Creekview State. Not that Tom had to think about it, it was all Harrison’s fault he was even here. Why would he leave beautiful London for this small Bay Area suburb? His best mate of course.

Somehow Harrison had gotten hooked on the idea of moving to California. Not even LA, but San Francisco area. Tom never understood it. It was a different world out here. The weather was bipolar, people had weird phrases, and the school system made no sense. Yet, Harrison begged him to go to California with him. Showed him the transfer program at Creekview State, and now here they were. Well, here Tom is, sitting in front of a very concerned counselor.

“Thomas-”

“Tom, just call me Tom,”

Mrs. Scott nods and turns the computer to face him.

“You have spectacular grades Tom, but you haven’t selected your major?” She points to the screen where major is set to ‘undetermined’. “And I believe you are aware of our policy correct?”

Tom nods slowly. At orientation, they had made it very clear that by the end of a student’s two years at Creekview, a major needed to be set. Administrators claimed that it was a way to ensure students achieve success, but Tom could see through that bullshit. Having students select majors early on ensures that the college can get as much money as possible from donors and the state. Tom though, did not have a major planned out.

“So, school ends in a week Tom and I need to know what your major is.” Mrs. Scott puts on a plastic smile.

“Mrs. Scott, I don’t know what I want to major in,” Tom says flatly. “I don’t see a future in any of the careers paths that the school promotes.”

Harrison had found his calling in theatre. He knew what he wanted since he was a kid. Tom however was lost. He found no satisfaction in business or English, not even theatre sparked that joy. He felt lost. A true imposter syndrome at its best. Tom was grasping at straws of life, watching everyone else know what they wanted. Harry and Sam, his own brothers, knew exactly what they wanted. They were set. Tom was the oldest, yet he was in their shadow.

“I’m sure we can find something-”

“Seriously, I’ve tried every career test and gone to all the job fairs. I don’t know my place. I can not figure out where I belong,”

Red was the only word to describe the interaction. Tom’s face was rouged with frustration and embarrassment, his heart pumping against his chest. His hands shook on his thighs, he had never expressed this concern ever. Now Mrs. Scott was blinking at him, mouth open slightly as she tried to figure out what to say. Tom wanted to run out of the building and never come back. This could be the chance to move back to England, start over with his education and figure it out there.

“I can tell you’re under a lot of stress. You’re in a country you didn’t grow up in and now you’re being forced to grow up. I get it Tom, so I’ll give you a choice.” Mrs. Scott brings out a piece of paper and turns it to Tom. “You can pick a major now or I can give you until the first day of Fall term. If you choose now, you get aid and first pick to all classes. If you wait, you’ll have to pay upfront and have to deal with last pick classes.”

A choice. A real fucking choice that Tom had the opportunity to pick. He didn’t have time to contemplate it until his friends or family butted in. He needed to make the choice now and it was all up to him. A few years into young adulthood and he still felt like a lost child, until now. This could be his chance to take the reigns of his life. To stop following what Harrison says, or his family, because now he was in control of his life. Tom looked down at the paper that listed all the different majors. None of them sparked joy. None of them ignited the fire he had always hoped for.

Tom knew the fire was real though. He saw it every day when Harrison would go to rehearsals or talk about an amazing day in Theatre. Tom felt it resonate off Harry when he would show off the latest photography project. The way Harry would tell stories of each photograph, give it life and meaning. Even Sam, who was going to trade school, had the undeniable ambition to become a carpenter. It was something Tom envied. It gave him that pit in his stomach, the dread you get when you know you’ve done something wrong. Tom felt it every time his parents called him and asked about his future. Now though, he had three whole months to figure out his future. If twenty odd years hadn’t given it to him, how would three months?

“I’ll let you know before the first day of term, but I’m not ready right now,” Tom grabs his things and stands up. “Thank you for this though.”

Tom goes towards the door but stops.

“Tom,” Mrs. Scott sighs. “I don’t expect you to have all of your life figured out right now, but take a chance. Explore or do something you’ve never done. Come back to me when you’re ready. I hope to hear from you soon,”

Mrs. Scott is looking to Tom with big eyes. He can tell she’s been through this before. The exhaustion behind her face from the need to balance the pressure from the school and the well-being of the students. Tom felt the pit appear at the thought of causing her more stress or pain. He could just randomly pick a major, change it later when he figures it out, but her words. Those words snapped the chord in his body.

Since he arrived in Creekview he hadn’t explored much. He would go to parties, class, and work. It was a routine to keep his mind off the homesickness. Tom kept himself busy so he wouldn’t miss home, his mom’s cooking, his bed, god he even missed his little brothers. But, he hadn’t lived more than that. Tom hadn’t let himself loose. Maybe that was the fault, maybe he needed to relax. Tom’s mind became clouded with the different anxieties so he pushed them away, sighing audibly.

“I hope so too Mrs. Scott,”

_

Tom rolled his neck into the bar of the lawn chair, unkinking the knots from his stiff neck. The music that had been playing from the speakers was now being replaced by the nuisance of his ringtone. He saw the picture of his dad appear on his phone requesting a facetime. This wasn’t the time, he thought.

Last time Tom talked to his father was before the guidance counselor meeting. He hadn’t told his family he wasn’t going home for the summer, like the year prior, so they must be wondering where he was or when he’d be coming back. Tom exhaled, fearing what he wanted to talk about. Tom slid the phone to accept and there his parents were, smiling and talking in unison to greet him.

“Hey guys, I miss you both,” Tom pushed back his glasses and melted at the sight.

It hurt. It hurt so much to not be with them. Although they were a major part in his dilemma, it was impossible to feel normal here. Tom knew his parents would make everything better again. Their cooking would settle his nerves, or his dad’s jokes would make him crack a smile finally.

“Tom, you don’t know how much we miss you right now,” His mom gushes. “When are you coming home, sweetie? Last summer you were already here and making a mess of the place?”

Tom laughed with his parents.

“I know mum,” He bit his lip and shrugged. “I was going to talk to you about that…”

“You know Tom we haven’t heard much from you. Is school going alright? Is Harrison still with you?”

“Yeah, he is. We’re at the house right now. I just,”

The weight crushed him. He wanted advice, he wanted to know what they would have to say about the whole ordeal. He knew it would come with nagging and lecture, which terrified him to no end. Failure was not an option.

“We’ve been calling you for a while now. What’s going on?”

“Guys, everything is fine. I just need to...I need to…” His mouth was dry and something came over him. “I need to invite you guys here.”

God he wished he could have shut himself up. Not answer the phone. Fucks sake, just throw the phone in the water and get it over with faster. His parents made a ‘hmph’ noise and cocked their heads at him.

“I can’t leave California due to...school and work...so why don’t you and the boys fly out here? July or August maybe?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Why in the world did I do that, he thought. Tom froze at the silence that followed. His parents looked to each other what seemed like a lifetime. This was it, this was the end of the world, wasn’t it?

“Of course we’ll come! We can’t wait to see this little town you’ve been living in!” His mother laughed and smiled. She was giddy.

“I was getting worried Tom,” His dad starts with a small laugh. “I was afraid you were going to tell us you got kicked out or you haven’t picked your major yet. But I can’t wait to see you.”

Yikes was all Tom could think. He laughed along, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling the pool of sweat coming down his skin. Fuck it was hot and he was a horrible liar.

“Love you guys. Talk to you soon,”

Their faces disappear, leaving the lock screen picture of Tessa looking adorable to overtake the phone. Tom flips it over and presses the play button on the speaker to continue the music from before. Fuck, his new favorite word because that was the only thing to describe how he felt. Tom felt stupid, angry, depressed, anxious, probably every emotion under the sun except happiness. This rut was driving him insane, but now he drove himself deeper into it. Tom flipped his sunglasses back down his nose and laid back again.

Was this going to be the rest of his life? Juggling life, unsure of what he wanted or what he needed? Trying to impress and satisfy the ones closest to him? The pit returned bringing with it the feeling of nausea. It must’ve been the beers he had been drinking for the past few hours because he felt sour. Tom clenched his fingers into the bands of the lounge chair, bending them to circulate the anxieties. He picked at things, twisted and broke them, while he was nervous. Either it was his nails, tables, clothes, you name it. It was the only calming factor he had.

“Tommy boy!” An all too familiar voice yelled.

Tom wanted to be dead. He could probably play dead and his so-called ‘friends’ would believe it. He watched as Brant and Ty made their way out to the backyard, holding up bottles of vodka and assorted mixes. Brant was a buff and tall dude, black skin and a face that nobody could say no to. He was known around campus as the star player, of football and hearts. Ty was scrawny, a lacrosse player that actually had talent. He had a long face though, almond eyes that were perpetually bloodshot. He was always high or looking to get high. They were the definition of what Creekview college boys were about.

“Tom, why are you sitting on your ass?” Brant laughed while jumping to take a seat next to him. “Dude, we need to go to Lauren J’s party tonight. With your British accent, we’ll need to be slapping the bitches off of us.”

Tom mentally groaned. He hadn’t been with a girl, not even a date since he got to Creekview. The girls here were not his type he supposed. The ones he had classes with were shallow or too dim-witted. Creekview felt like another dimension honestly. He had never experienced such fakery in his life. Nothing was real, nobody gave a shit about being authentic. It was all Daddy’s money, Mommy’s Lambo, and going to whoever’s lakehouse.

“I think I’ll sit it out. I don’t feel too great,” Tom rolled his head away from the two men looking at him.

“Pussy!” Ty cackled. “Pussy boy is afraid of fun,”

“Ty, shut the fuck up,” Brant elbowed his smaller friend and sighed. “Fuck if I care dude. More hoes for us,”

Brant shrugged it off and walked to the back of the house with Ty following at his tail. God, Ty would do anything to please him. It was pathetic. The only saving grace of the situation is that he didn’t live with them. Tom and Harrison had been renting a house for the year, getting some extra cash from their parents so they didn’t have to live on campus. Although Creekview was safe, the campus was rampant with theft and destruction. It felt like you took middle school children, injected steroids, and let them have the run of a college.

Crisis averted for now, at least. Tom loved parties back home. It was a party to have fun, to get together with your mates and drink. Creekview parties were to show off. Who has the best clothes, best mansion, best alcohol. Tom felt like an alien here. Nothing felt right anymore.

Tom heard the sliding door open again, this time it was Harrison. The blond boy smiled at Tom, shrugging his shoulders as he crossed the backyard. He wore a white shirt with neon splatters on it. There were remnants of neon paint on his face too. Tom quirked an eye at him and slid the glasses off his face.

“What’s with the paint?”

“LJ is having a neon party and she invited us,” Harrison threw a white shirt at Tom. “We should get going if we want to make it there before all the good booze is gone,”

Tom looked at the shirt, splatters of blues, oranges, and yellows scattered it in an abstract pattern. Did Harrison really have time to do this? He met eyes with his best mate, Harrison narrowed worried eyes at him. Harrison knew something was up with his friend, he saw the joy deplete from him every night after class. He saw Tom after the counselors meeting, saw the pain and stress illuminating off of him. The thing about Tom though was that he needed to figure out things for himself. He was constantly needing advice from others while also needing the pride of being self-efficient. Harrison wished to reach inside his best friend’s head and yank out the real Tom again. But, Tom sat there with heavy eyes and sighed.

“I don’t think I’ll go,” Tom rubbed the T-shirt fabric between his fingers.

“Mate, please come. I don’t want to be stuck with Brant or Ty all night,”

“So hang out with Lauren J then,”

The flicker of interest was undeniable. Tom knew Harrison fancied LJ, he could see it miles away. Everytime the sorority girl walked past. Harrison was head over heels in love. Yet, Tom didn’t know if anything had actually happened. He felt the nauseating flirting all the time, he saw the long glances to each other. Harrison however was quiet about it all, maybe out of fear that it would disappear if he spoke of it. This was a concept Tom knew too well.

“Tom, I’m really worried about you. I didn’t think that major thing would-”

“I’m fine Haz,”

Harrison sits to face Tom, hands folded in his lap like he was going to give him a lecture.

“We can talk about it if you want.”

Tom felt the pit deepens. He didn’t want to get Harrison involved, it was a mistake to even tell him. Tom did it so that it wouldn’t be so heavy on his mind but now he infected Harrison with his problems too. The brunet boy sat straight up, throwing off his red shirt and replacing it with the neon one.

“No, you know what let’s go to LJ’s party,” Tom grabbed his sunglasses and stood up as fast as he could.

“Tom, stop avoiding the topic-”

“Haz, you want to go to the party right? Let’s not keep LJ waiting,”

It was the flip in the situation that frustrated Harrison, but he wasn’t going to mention. The reverse psychology trick that Tom always pulled was getting real old, but now was not the time for it. Harrison was just happy that Tom was going to leave the house for once. Tom grabbed his wallet and keys, waiting on the front porch for his friend, nerves building up again. Thank god there will be alcohol at the party or this would be a disaster.

“You know, it’s okay to talk about your feeling,” Harrison comments as they walk towards the Jeep. “I don’t do words,” Tom smirked.

Harrison laughed, it would take a miracle to get him to shut up. Which was why it worried him that Tom had been silent for so long. Tom rolled his back into the leather seat and strummed his fingers against the plastic panel of the car door. Harrison looked to his friend again, exhaling in defeat.

“What’s your fear, Tom? Just tell me that,”

Tom froze his fingers and looked to Harrison. It was a moment of weakness, both having pleading eyes for answers. Harrison needed to know his best friend was alright, while Tom needed to know it was going to be alright.

“I just...don't want to be wrong,” His voice was barely above a whisper.

It was silent. The radio was turned off and the only sound was the car going to the somewhat empty Mainstreet of Creekview. Tom wanted to slap himself for telling the truth. Admitting failure was what was holding him back. It was the agonizing anxiety of having no control and failing to do what’s right. Tom gnawed at his bottom lip, his heart thumping against his chest so loud that he was sure Harrison could hear it. Harrison looked from the street and back to Tom.

“Whatever happens tonight Tom, it’ll be right,” Harrison finally says.

“What do you mean?”

It was the assertiveness that Harrison spoke with that sparked a little hope. He knew how to draw Tom out of his shell in times of darkness, yet nothing had been this serious before. But it was what Tom needed, that stupid faith in him.

“You will do something unequivalently right tonight. That’s final,”

The two looked off towards the sunset, visions of blue, pink, and purple bleeding out into the sky. It was...calm. For the first time since the counselor’s meeting, Tom felt at ease with Harrison, with his lack of decisions. Although it was creeping in the back of his mind, swirling through with random thoughts of terror. Tom felt okay for once and prepared himself mentally for the party.

It would be draining, shitty music and drunk people who can’t handle their alcohol. Yet, Harrison was right. Tom could do something tonight that was right. He wasn’t sure what, or even how, but it settled him for the time being. Tom rested his head on his hand, watching the beautiful colors take the sky. It was a moment of bliss, a moment of freedom that Tom was looking for. He remembered he needed to take chances, go on an adventure like Mrs. Scott had said. Maybe now, maybe this could be his first adventure that leads to many more. Tom just had to leap. He looked over to Harrison and laughed.

“It’s all going to be alright,”

Harrison smiled, nodding along with his words.

“Yes, Tom. Everything will always be alright,”

Tom breathed deeply, taking in the beautiful scene and moment. His eyes dreamily stared off into the sunset to admire the vibrancy. He had never seen anything like it in England. The California sunsets were a different breed. The colors made bubbles of serenity, and Tom smiled. He loved the way the pink shined through, it gave him a weird feeling of knowing. Like he knew something good was going to happen. Tom felt at ease with the color and he didn’t know why. It was odd, but maybe it was the anxiety finally settling so he could enjoy life for a bit.

Pink may be my new favorite color

////

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@screeching-student-unknown / @nyctophilicstyles /  @captainbuckyy / @vintage-moonlight / @breadbudzo / @h-natale / @originalpinkpowerranger/ @happywolves81 / @drunkgreek/ @iamnida95 / @sydthekidsloth / @spiderboytotherescue / @laureharrier / @starksparker / @madon566 / @nophunleague / @itsbrittneynicole / @hereiamhereigo  / @kkaup04  / @way-ward-whale / @thewackywriter

[aliofvalhalla]

I’ll Come Back To You

For the prompt, "Promise me you'll come back...I need you to promise me." 

"Gaaaaabe!"

The high-pitched, breathy sound left your lips between giggles as you struggled against his onslaught. Gabriel's hilarious idea to tickle you awake this morning had turned into both of you becoming a limb-tangled, writhing mess atop his bed.

"Stop it! Gabe! O-okay, OKAY. I'm awake...you WIN!"

You made a squeak you were previously unaware you were capable of as he continued to tickle your sides, hovering above you. You were trying to be serious now, to get him to actually stop, but you couldn't prevent the laughter flowing now, as tears rolled down the apples of your cheeks. Even after two years of being with you, Gabriel still could never help the huge grin that graced his face whenever you failed to contain your laughter. He loved that sound more than any other.

His hands finally slowed their assault and came to rest lightly on your waist as he settled his face against your neck and mumbled.

"I'm sorry, mi vida. I couldn't resist."

He lifted is head to admire your blush ridden face and returned the soft smile you offered him.

"I think I can forgive you just this once, handsome." After a beat of silence staring into each other's eyes, you spoke again. "We should probably get up, I know you've got a meeting today."

Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically as he began to untangle himself from you. He did indeed have a meeting today. A boring, Morrison-lead meeting full of plans and procedures he'd probably already heard about ten thousand times, but as the commander of Blackwatch he had to attend. Which meant that no matter how much he would adore spending a lazy day with you, he had to get up and get dressed.

"I wish I didn't, mi vida."

"I know."

Gabriel leaned down from his standing position by the bed to give you a soft and meaningful kiss on the lips before heading to the bathroom to shower. As he walked away you could see the tension in his muscles, the way he somewhat dragged his feet now, the slight hunch is his back that would likely go unnoticed by others...but not you. You knew the weight he was feeling.

The strain between he and Jack had, to some extent, settled down since Ana disappeared. It had been fiery and tense, but in their shared mourning, it calmed...briefly. Now, however, tensions were on the rise again and you knew he was stressed over the strike commander, the UN, Blackwatch's future. What you wouldn't do to hold him close all day and tell him everything would be alright, but you couldn't. It was his job. Holding him back from that would only make things worse between your boyfriend and his former friend. So, he'd go and 'do his duty' as a commander and when he returned you'd be there for him...just like you always were.

You heard the shower turn off as you got up to prepare for your day. Gabriel re-entered the room wearing just a towel and that signature toothy smile he had for you no matter how he was feeling.

"It's about time you made a move. Morrison hates a lazy agent."

"Yeah well, If he's in a meeting with you, how will he know I was a bit late to training?"

He padded his way over to where you were standing in a pile of discarded clothes by his bed and slowly wrapped his arms around you to pull you flush to his chest. You smiled as he looked down at you to place a feather-light kiss on the tip of your nose. You flinched as a rogue water droplet left his hair and found your cheek. Gabriel stifled a chuckle.

"Maybe I'll tell him...tell him you need stricter schedules...need to move to Blackwatch...under my command..."

He punctuated each statement with a kiss starting at your jaw and heading down your neck.

"Oh, really?" You lifted his head with a finger under his chin to smirk at him before giving him a deep, warm kiss on his big, soft lips. "Just get dressed."

You turned to pick up your Overwatch hoodie from the floor behind you and jumped a little when you felt Gabriel give your butt a playful slap. You turned to glare at him, but he was already walking away towards his closet.

The rest of your day went as it normally did. As an agent recently out of recruitment, you didn't know too many of the 'higher-ups' or 'veterans' as they were known to recruits, but Lena had become a friend to you pretty quickly. She'd train with you, eat with you in the canteen, hangout with you in the rec room. She was cool...you liked Lena. Today was a Lena day. After training and other work, you walked with her back to her room.

"D'ya fancy binge watching that show we were talking about?"

You could tell she was eager, but you knew Gabe would likely be in a bad mood after his day of stressful meetings, phone calls and paperwork. So, you opted to be there for him...just like you always were.

"Maybe some other time? I'm just really tired. Training with you today really took it out of me." You chuckled.

"Sure, some other time, then! Goodnight!"

The excitable brunette hugged you goodbye and left you alone in the long corridor. You turned left and made your way towards Gabriel's room. Once outside his door, you knocked gingerly awaiting his reply.

"Who is it?"

His voice was lower than usual and you knew that meant you were right...he was in a bad mood.

"It's me. Can I come in, handsome?"

You hoped the nickname and cheery tone would make him feel a little better...maybe.

You heard shuffling and footsteps made their way towards the door before it opened. Gabriel didn't look mad or frustrated as he usually did after a day with Jack Morrison...he looked sad. Defeated. That worried you. He pulled you in for a hug and closed the door, seemingly in one swift motion.

"Gabe? What's wrong, honey?"

You spoke as softly as you could, although the worry so evidently seeped into your words like water to a sponge. His beard prickled your cheek as he lifted his head from your shoulder to look you in the eye with his bloodshot ones. Had he been crying? Or was he just really tired? Before you could ask him ,he spoke...just as softly as you had done previously.

"It's bad..." a pause, "It's really bad, mi vida."

"What do you mean?"

"All of this. It's all fucked."

Worry and anxiety flooded your brain and you wanted to yell at him to just get it out, but you needed to allow him the time to tell you whatever it was he wanted to say. You hated seeing him like this. You waited.

He looked towards the floor and seemed to be thinking about how to formulate a coherent sentence. Then he gently took your arm and lead you to his bed where he lay, spread out his left arm and looked up at you with the warmest, sweetest, brown eyes. You accepted his invitation and snuggled into his side. the arm that invited you, snaked around your shoulders and played with your hair whilst the other found one of yours and intertwined your fingers. It was peaceful for a moment. Just silence. Until, it seemed, Gabriel found the courage to break it.

"The UN is investigating Overwatch." He blurted out. "They want us to visit the Swiss HQ."

"Why do you have to go to Switzerland?"

"I don't exactly know, hermosa. Morrison and I are headed out there next week. I suppose it's to give us an opportunity to dispel the 'accusations and allegations' against us."

He let go of your hand to enclose those two words in quotation marks, before quickly returning it to its locked position with yours.

You knew he didn't want to go. He didn't want any of this to be happening at all (that was one thing he and Morrison could still agree on). But it was happening and he had to go. You didn't rightly know how to respond. You snuggled closer into his warm embrace and sighed.

"It'll be alright, Gabe."

"Will it?"

That question and the tone with which he asked it made your heart twitch in your chest. You so wanted it to be true, but the truth was, you didn't know what this meant for Blackwatch or Overwatch...or your relationship.

"I'll be here for you no matter what...just like I always am."

You smiled up at him, a gesture he returned before kissing you lightly on your temple.

"Well, then I know it'll be alright."

You knew there were different ways you could've handled it, different things you could've said. You knew he was still confused, frightened, sad. You hated that there was nothing else you could do to change that. But you got him to smile, even just for a second, and that made you feel happier.  

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

The week seemed to drag and with every passing day, a seemingly misplaced feeling of dread grew inside of you. Gabriel had been on risky missions taking out terrorists and dangerous criminals; risking his life. Why did you feel so apprehensive about him going to Switzerland? It was so weird to you, but the lingering tension in the air made you uneasy.

Everyone was in low spirits, people were beginning to give up already. Many of the agents you'd gone through recruitment with had left the organisation. People you knew had worked their asses off to be here. They'd left because they were scared for the future. Even a few veteran agents had gone off to do their own thing, unsure of what would happen to them if Overwatch was shut down by the UN. But you were still here. You were here bright and early with Gabe, in front of a dropship set for Switzerland. He kissed your forehead for what seemed like the thousandth time today and followed it up with a gentle peck on your nose.

"Gabe! You need to get on the ship!" You giggled.

He laughed lightly, "I know, hermosa. But I also NEED to kiss you goodbye."

Your giggle continued as his kisses were planted all over your face.

"Alright! Alright!"

He stopped to look at your smiling face and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he stared. Your eyes found the floor as you bit your bottom lip lightly.

"I love you." He almost whispered, ducking his head slightly as to catch your eyes again.

"And I love you." You said, returning to the glossy gaze of his deep, chocolate eyes.

That's when you caught something in them. Something strange, sad...knowing. You tilted your head at him and frowned.

"Is everything okay, handsome?"

He snorted, "Of course it's not, I'm leaving my baby for a whole week or more for another country!"

You couldn't quite pin point what it was, but you had confidence he'd be okay. He had to go.

"Reyes! We need to leave! Our arrival is scheduled for 800 hours. Get moving!"

Jack Morrison's voice was never one Gabriel enjoyed hearing, especially when he was trying to be romantic. He rolled his eyes, held your face between his hands and gave you one last deep kiss on the lips before letting go and turning towards the ship with a final whispered, 'I love you'.

Before he was too far away, you called his name. He turned back with a small smile. You don't know why you said it, or where the thought even came from, but...

"Promise me you'll come back...I need you to promise me."

Gabriel gave you that special toothy smile that you knew and loved and as his fingers made a cross over his heart, he shouted back.

"Mi vida, I promise I'll come back to you."

He blew you a kiss and threw his arms open dramatically walking backwards towards his gear. You laughed. A real laugh, straight from your gut as you 'caught' the kiss.

When the heel of his boot hit his gear, he turned around to pick it up and carry it onto the dropship. Just before the doors closed he smiled the most genuine smile at you as you gave him a little wave. Then he was gone.

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

For weeks after the explosion you'd closed yourself off from everything and everyone. Lena had tried her best to get you to leave your small apartment and go to lunch with her or hang out with her or at least do something. You always refused. Always said you needed to be alone. You'd hardly eaten since the fall, hardly slept either. That was the hardest thing...sleeping. It was a strange feeling being in a bed that was yours and not his. A bed in an apartment that he'd never been in. You'd sometimes fall asleep on the couch to the soundtrack of a TV show you were never even watching, but that short sleep was always interrupted by his face. He'd be smiling, at first, that smile. But then he'd be crying, yelling, screaming your name and you couldn't get to him no matter how hard you tried. He was always too far away.

You didn't go to the memorial service they held for them. What was the point? To hear some UN official talk about how much of a true hero Jack Morrison was and how 'Commander Reyes was brave too'? No. There was no point. You didn't need people you barely knew pitying you either. Pretending they were 'sorry for your loss' when they couldn't even begin to understand what you'd lost. Instead you stayed home and stared blankly at a TV screen where some random woman rambled about her favourite cheese to use when making homemade pizza rolls.

There was nothing left for you anymore. No family. No Overwatch. No Gabe. You weren't even allowed pets in this apartment.

So you carried on. Carried on just...being.

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

Years later...

There you were. Just how he remembered you. Just as sweet and beautiful.

A black sweeping mist swirled its way around him and the tree he sought the cover of shadow under. He peered at your shivering body as you closed the door after re-entering the nice, homely cottage you lived in. He wanted nothing more than to make you feel warm again.

You laughed as you watched your puppy run around like crazy as you returned to the cosy front room of your house. The fireplace was roaring and provided a welcoming change to the frosty, snow covered world beyond the window. You'd only gone outside for a minute to take out the trash, but he acted like you'd been gone for a whole week. He was cute though.

You curled up on the sofa and patted your knee. The fluffy little dog bounded its way into your lap and snuggled against tummy. You stroked his head as you flicked through hundreds of TV channels which seemingly showed nothing new.

He smiled sadly beneath his bone white mask as you stopped on his favourite movie and settled in to watch it. He knew you hated that movie.

He stood there admiring every little detail of you. He stood there for hours. He stood there through the whole movie, into the start of the next one, and whilst you and your puppy fell asleep.

You were there...just like you always were.

He knew you didn't know he was there too, but he came back to you like he'd promised.

He came back.

[the--blackdahlia]

Armageddon Chapter 15 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Armageddon Chapter 15

Summary:  Space. The Final Frontier. But for Dean Winchester, space was the last place he thought he would ever go. His family life isn’t perfect, his job isn’t ideal, but he has (Y/n), the woman he loves. Sam Winchester never thought his life would turn out the way it did. He is divorced, alone, and his brother most likely hates him. Working for NASA was not going to be easy. But, when a threat to the earth has him calling on his family for help, what can he do? can Sam and Dean push past his family issues to keep the Earth spinning another day? Based on the movie of the same name.

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Jessica

Warnings For this Chapter: Angst, language, injuries

Song for this chapter is Knockin' on Heaven's Door by Guns n' Roses

Mission Control

“I WANT A STATUS REPORT!” Bobby yelled as everyone began scrambling. “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!”

“Well sir, there was a disturbance and….” A scientist said. Charlie could tell Bobby was about to blow up.

“There’s debris and it’s messing with the comms.” Charlie told him. “We’re working on it as fast as we can.” Bobby growled and rubbed at his temples.

“I WANT SOMEONE TO PATCH ME TO JO OR GABRIEL NOW!!”

(Y/n) looked worridley to John and Jess. Jess was doing her best to keep (Y/n) from panicking. John was trying to help, but those were his men up there, and his sons.

“You can get your wish, to keep Sam, because if I die on this mission, you get your perfect son, and (Y/n) can find someone better.”  

John closed his eyes and did something he had done since Viet Cong were killing his brothers around him, or since a little Sam weighed 4 pounds, 8 ounces and was born months before he was supposed to be born. He prayed.

“Mission Control! Do you copy! Mission Control this is Jo Harvelle! Do you copy!” Jo’s voice came in over the system.

“Jo, It’s Bobby I need a status report!” He tried to calm down.

“Bobby? It’s Sam!”

“Sam? What’s going on? I need someone to talk to me!” Bobby was trying to take deep breaths. “Sam?”

“Garth’s Dead, Dean’s hurt… The timer to the bomb got damaged.” Sam’s voice was shaky. “Bobby… We got hit by debris coming at us. A stray smaller asteroid hit us.”

“How bad is he hurt?” Bobby asked, closing his eyes.

“His leg… we have it in a splint at the moment he seems ok, but he’s out of commision for drilling,” Sam explained. “That’s not all… the time detinator got damaged… we need to fix it fast, so good thing I have the designer on board,” Sam joked.

“Shit…” Bobby groaned. “Just….just get it done okay Sam?”

“Yes sir,” Sam sighed.

(Y/n) could feel her chest constrict. Dean was hurt, she placed her hand over her bump and bit her lip. She was scared, she looked to Jess. Jess looked scared too.

****

“I think we have the parts Dean needs in the Independence.” Mick explained. Dean had been examining the timer and figuring out what parts were needed. “Let me go get them. I’ll be right back.”

“Dean, how are you?” Sam rasped.

“Peachy,” Dean grumbled. “Sam… I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Sam asked, looking over at him. His anxiety was through the roof, and he was trying to move as much as possible to help keep him calm.

“I don’t make it out of here…”

“No, no no. We’re not doing this.” Sam said. “None of this goodbye crap okay. You’re getting home, even if I have to push you there myself.”

“You let me get this out… I’m the older brother I PROTECT YOU, got it?” Dean growled. “I don’t make it… you take (Y/n) you go to the apartment... “ Dean took a shaky breath. “In the closet under all my vinyl records… is a deed and a house key.”

“Dean…”

“Before my blow out with dad, I bought a house… I was going to surprise her with the house before I proposed to her, but I got in that fight with dad, and got the job with Crowley,” Dean’s voice broke. “You tell her I love her… Make sure she moves on… don’t let her stay hung up on an ass like me… a coward who could have been with her for a long time…”

“Stop it!” Sam threw a wrench at the wall. “Just stop it okay! You’re going home and you’re having a family! And you’re not going to fuck it up like me! You’re going to have kids, and a house, and a good job! You’re going to die old with your family surrounding you! Now just stop it!” Never before had Sam blown up like that before.

(Y/n) covered her mouth listening to the altercation between the brothers. She looked to Jess whose eyes were filled with guilt. John ran his hands across his face. He looked to the little boy oblivious to the scene as he played with his toy cars. John walked over to Ashton and knelt down in front of the small boy.

“Hey, Kiddo,” He gave him a teary smile, “What kind of car do you have there?”  

“Bird car.” Ashton said, holding it up to show John. “It flies.” He had a big smile on his face. “And it goes vroom.”

John chuckled, Ashton reminded him so much of Sam when he was little. “That is an amazing car, did your daddy get that for you?”

“Yeah! We’re going to watch cars someday.” Sam had promised to take Ashton to a race when he was a little older and could sit still for longer than five minutes.

“Would it be ok if grandpa came too?” John smiled as he ruffled Ashtons hair.

“Yes! We can see the cars together!” He clapped his hands. “Daddy will like that!”

As the camera shook and everyone in mission control scrambled. Sam held on to Dean as he tried to get up. Dean hissed in pain,

“What the hell was that?” Dean called out.

“Dean,” Benny’s voice sounded over the com.

“What Benny? What’s going on?” Dean leaned on the wall of the shuttle giving a knowing look to Sam.

“Dean I have good news and bad news, which do you want first?” Benny sighed.  

“Bad news first.” Dean sighed.

“Well, uh, bad news is Mick is dead.” Benny told them. Dean and Sam stared at each other. “Good news is, the hole is done. But we can’t fix the timer so...emergency meeting.”

Dean ran a hand across his face. He looked at the timer and held out his hand, “Get me a screwdriver.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam shook his head.

“Trust me,” was all Dean said as Sam handed him the screw driver and he began tinkering with it. Everyone climbed into the shuttle. They all stood around, watching as Dean tinkered away.

“Dean…” Sam said. “Is it working?”

“Don’t worry, when everyone gets here I’ll explain it,” Dean mumbled.

“Everyone’s here.” Sam said. “This is us.”

Benny, Ash, Ketch, Jo, Gabriel, and Cas came in. Dean looked around then looked at the timer. Closing his eyes, he looked to Jo.

“Are communications with mission control back and stable?” He breathed.

“Stable, no. But they’re here for now.” She told him. “All the debris is making it hard to keep a constant.”

Dean made his way over to the coms, “Is video working?”

“It’s scrambled.” Bobby’s voice came through. “We can hear you better than we can see you.”

Dean took a deep breath, “I want to talk to my wife.”

She wasn’t his fiance right now, even if the papers weren’t signed and they didn’t have their ceremony, he considered her, his wife. He wished he could see her, but hearing her would be just as good.  

“Dean?” her voice was music to his ears. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me?”

“Hey sweetheart.” Dean smiled some. “I’m sorry I scared you. I just wanted to hear your voice.” He closed his eyes and pictured her there. “I love you (Y/n). Everything's going to be okay, you hear me?”

“Why do I have a feeling you are going to try and be a cowboy?” She muttered, “I swear Dean, don’t do anything stupid please?” her voice broke.

“I’m not honey. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I promise.” He smirked some. “I just really needed to hear you.”

“Dean?” She sobbed, “I love you, please come home.”

“I’ll be home before you know it.” Dean laughed, trying not to cry. “Just make sure you’ve got the details planned for our wedding.”

“Ramble on going down the aisle,” she chuckled.

“A little Black Dog that night?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

(Y/n) sniffled, “I love you.”

“I know.” Dean laughed. “I love you too (Y/n).”

“Go save the world cowboy,” she rasped before blowing a kiss.

Dean blew a kiss back before turning off the com. He ran his hand across his face clearing up the tears that were falling. With a groan he hobbled back to the group and leaned on the table.

“I fixed the timer… but you are not going to like our options,” Dean gave them a solemn look.

“What are they?” Sam asked, nervously.

“One of us has to stay behind and manually detonate the bomb. Or I volunteer myself to stay behind and detonate the bomb,” He looked at Sam.

“No way!” Sam said. “You’re not giving yourself up like that. We can,” He found a couple straws and cut them into different pieces. “We can draw straws to see who stays behind.”

“Shortest straw stays,” Dean agreed. They took turns drawing straws, dread behind each pull. And finally, someone had the short straw.

Dean looked to Sam holding up the short straw, “told you so.”

John closed his eyes as mission control heard the audio. (Y/n) held back a sob as she sank to her knees, Jessica with her. The audio and video were gone then, leaving them in the dark.

Sam was numb as he watched Dean get ready. Sam grabbed his own helmet and put it on.

“I’m walking you out at least.” Sam said. “Not taking no for an answer.”

Dean simply nodded as he limped to the elevator to the asteroids surface.

“You remember what we talked about?” he rasped, “You make sure my girl moves on… make sure the next guy treats her right.”

“Yeah Dean.” Sam sighed as they headed through the elevator onto the asteroid. Sam played with the loose path on his arm, slowly pulling it off. “Hey Dean, can you do something for me real quick?”

Dean closed his eyes, “yeah baby brother. What do you need?”

Sam reached out and pulled the hose on Dean’s suit, damaging the oxygen. He pushed him back into the elevator and tucked the patch into a spot on his suit. He shut the doors so Dean could breath.

“Make sure dad gets that.” Sam said, looking at Dean through the glass doors.

Dean beat on the door, “SAM OPEN THE FUCKING DOORS RIGHT NOW, YOU ARE NOT DOING THIS. I DREW THE SHORT STRAW!”

“You have a life waiting for you back home Dean. I don’t.” Sam told him. “I need you to go live that life for me. It’s time I pay you back for everything.” He pressed the button, letting the elevator go back up into the shuttle.

“DON’T DO THIS SAMMY, NO, NO NO NO! DON’T DO THIS! DAD’S GOING TO HATE ME FOR THIS SAM! IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE ME.” Dean began beating at the doors. “SAM YOU HAVE A SON WHO NEEDS YOU.” he tried using his shoulder to break the door but it was no use.  

“You have a son or daughter that needs you too!” Sam yelled at him. “So just tell them I was cool or something, okay?” He turned away from Dean. “I love you Dean.”

The elevator doors opened into the shuttle. Dean felt two strong arms grab him and pull him in.

“LET ME GO! SAMMY! I NEED TO GET BACK TO SAM!”  Dean tried wrestling away from Benny.

“Easy brother. We gotta get home.” Benny said, getting him into a seat and tightening the straps so Dean couldn’t get out. “And your oxygen is damaged. You can’t go back out there.”

“Then you get me a new suit, get me out of here. I drew the damn short straw it should be me!”

“There are no more suits.” Cas told Dean.

“And I think Sam’s made up his mind.” Ash sighed.

“He got what he wanted.” Benny shook his head. “He got to kill himself.”

“How did you know about that?” Dean growled at Benny, “How did everyone know but me!”

“I didn’t know!” Ketch said.

“I only knew because I had to take the kid to therapy one day.” Benny told him. “We went out for beers and he told me.”

“Dad’s going to hate me for not protecting him,” Dean sobbed, “the old man might as well kill me himself.”

****

Sam had the communication device that they were supposed to use outside of the shuttle. He sat down by the bomb and closed his eyes. With a deep breath, Sam powered it on.

“If...if anyone can hear me,” Sam said, tears filling up in his eyes. “I...I’d really like to talk to my dad.”

Forever Tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk

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