#you may think the tub is silly if you wish

[manyblinkinglights]

Shower had manufacturer defect, has to be returned. Black toilet will not be in until July. Vanity/sink ETA unknown.

But I persevere.

But for real somehow this stormy nighttime grey porcelain slate tile gives this minuscule bathroom a relaxing sense of space. Somehow it feels a little bit like “the distance.” And it is going to look SO good when the three overtub pinlights go in to do even more highlighting of the texture.

I don’t care if you think it looks bad, or that I’m silly for thinking it looks good. THAT is how much I am pleased with my tile.

[chevelleneech]

You know I really really wish that jikook to take a trip together after they come back just them, just FOR them, without any cameras crew, like i dont want it for myself/viewers/army's, but i really want them to have it for themselves. I feel they had to in certain moments talk,play up silliness for the sake of show/cameras, but imagine a hot tub bath, alone in night, for relaxation(not talking abt anything sexual) in a snowy japan, with mountains/scenery etc. you know,i would love that for them

To be honest, I think believing they can’t have done that is kind of silly. Their entire lives for the most part, are on camera. They’ve spent a decade filming parts of their lives I’m sure they wished they didn’t, some of which ended up on the cutting room floor and others that made it into content, but I don’t think they have less meaningful and intimate conversations because the cameras are around.

And I mean no ill judgment in saying this, but this is the part of things I wish more Jikookers would think about instead of fantasizing romantically about. Their lives aren’t necessarily hindered because they film so much. It’s part of their normalcy, even if it isn’t normal. Which is the crux of fame in general, but more so for idols it seems. They’re kind of contract bound to film basically everything, even though we know it’s not actually everything. If it were, there’d be far less “scandal” in their industry.

Point is, we saw them turning off their cameras by choice. We saw the crew not riding in the cars with them every step of the way. So at the very least we can assume that whenever they wanted to have private conversations, they turned off the cameras and mics, and left the crew. Throughout the series we saw the main tell of them knowing which rooms were theirs, based on the cameras being fixed up in the corner. But we also know there were other rooms that didn’t have cameras. Surely the crew may have slept in some, as I assume they didn’t rent entire houses for just the two of them, but that doesn’t mean Jimin and Jungkook had zero place to talk in private if they wanted it.

To be honest, one of the things this episode that stood out to me regarding the idea of their privacy as they filmed the show, and likely their life in general, was when they reacted to episode one. They kept growing closer and closer on that couch, and touching and overall came across very couple-y, yet they seemed entirely comfortable in front of their crew. Could’ve been the editing, but I don’t think so. They spent multiple trips being exactly like that, yet the editors didn’t seem to cut out enough to change the way it came across, lol.

So I think Jimin and Jungkook were comfortable enough to request their privacy when they wanted it, and us not seeing those moments were because they don’t have footage nor recording of them.

[shuusagi]

One Month (part 3 of/?)

Hellooo again! It's been long enough I think its time to bring in some interesting themes 😌

Warnings: I re-read these but I'm a novice writer, mentions of f!reader, this specific fic will have somnophilia/dubcon, voyeurism and just general nsfw things. Enjoy!

It was around midnight, and you were feeling restless. Perhaps it was from the rising feeling that you aren't alone, or the creaks you hear at night. Probably both. You lay in bed staring at the ceiling wondering if you were the star of a new age slasher movie. Pfft, you shake your head. Let's go have a shower to wash away these thoughts.

You slowly make your way to the bathroom, for some reason you tread lightly like you don't want to wake someone up. Maybe these past few weeks had you convinced that Brahms was a real boy.

Starting the shower, you wait for it to warm up and slowly de-robe yourself. You shiver, the slightly chilly room coupled with the thoughts that someone may have their eyes on you causing a reaction within yourself.

Brahms:

He watched you through a hole residing in the wall. He could feel himself begin to harden noticing your stunning body. God, you looked so soft and pliable, he wondered what it would be like to hold you- and to fuck you. You slowly made your way to the tub, getting in and sighing as the hot water warmed you up. He watched the droplets roll down your curvy features, now palming his cock through his pants.

A small groan leaves him, he can't remember a time where he was so aroused before. Being left alone to your own devices often meant you'd get used to this pent up desire to fuck someone silly, simply by reacting to those said desires through self pleasure. He never got to try, but seeing you now has his mind wandering at the thought of how tight you may be. He wasn't an expert in sex by any means, but he did know things anatomically. Granted, the few spicy novels and magazines helped him paint himself a bright picture of what it would feel like.

He eyes you carefully as you wash your hair, your back slightly arching to accommodate the lengthening of your arms. He begun to stroke his cock in his pants, feeling that familiar pressure build up. He stops himself, slowing his hand so he doesn't cum. Not yet. He wants to save all of his cum for (Y/N).

You start lathering your body with body wash, he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as your hands roam your body. God how he wishes that could be him right now, but soon. He just has to wait for you to fall asleep.

He bangs his fist on the wall behind him, and that makes you practically jump out of your skin. A small smirk creeps on his lips as he watches your wide eyed expression.

Y/N:

You squeal at the loud bang that was heard, nearly making you fall out of the tub. You look around abruptly, slowly kneeling down to hold your chest to your knees. "H-hello?... is anyone there?" Your voice quivers. Silence. You finally notice you've been holding your breath, so you take a big gulp. Shakily you get up and quickly wrap a towel around yourself.

"Helloooo?" You sigh, it's probably just the old plumbing.

You make your way back to your bedroom, being sure to do double takes behind yourself. Laying in bed with the covers up by your face you can't help but make people out of the shadows and darkened clothing on the chair in your room.

Eventually you begin to doze off, it was probably really late anyway. Surely it's just an old house..

Brahms:

He watched you sleep peacefully, and carefully he steps into the room trying to keep the noise to a minimum. He stands above your sleeping form taking you all in. He never will get tired of this, watching you sleep so beautifully with a slight snore.

Tentatively he reaches out and brushes your hair out of your face. His fingertips burn hot as they graze against your cheek. Holding his breath he trails down your jawline to the side of your neck. You squirm a little which causes him to freeze up.

You settle back down and he continues up your arm, dragging your tank top strap down. Cautiously he places a kiss on your shoulder with his mask, taking a big breath in to get your scent. You smelt of water lilies and vanilla, with a mix of coconut. You smelt amazing.

He continues down your arm, flowing onto your side now. He couldn't help it, he lightly pinched a bit of your chubby belly, wishing he could just bury his face into it. He resumes tracing his fingers down your hip and over the swell of your thigh. Hesitantly he grabs a handful of your thigh. You fidget a little bit, but get pulled back into your slumber. He's feeling awfully courageous now, so many ideas race through his mind on what he wants to do to you.

He starts by parting your thighs, so that you're now laying on your back splayed out for him. He could practically drool at the heavenly sight beneath him. He noticed you were slightly wet through your underwear, and he groaned at the sight. You shifted again and he froze. You wiped your nose with the back of your hand and went still once more. He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

Ever so cautiously he puts his right hand next to your right hip to steady himself as he loomed over your much smaller figure. He leans down and places a kiss on your inner thigh, taking in the scent of your arousal. What had gotten you going? Was it from being scared earlier? He grinned at the idea, so his little plaything got off to being scared. Or at least the idea someone was watching her. He licks his lips.

Tentatively he drags his index finger against your slit, eliciting a small moan from you. His head snaps up to catch your lips parting ever so gently, the softest sound he's ever heard escaping your stunning lips. He looks down your chest and notices one of your nipples peeking out from under its confines. He can't help it. He's shaking as he lifts his mask off, and captures your nipple in his mouth.

He supports himself up while he sucks on your nipple slowly, carefully and shyly as to not wake you. He loves the taste of you, slightly salty and a little bit like soap. He continues to rub his finger up and down your slit. Then, you let out a long moan. Shifting from the discomfort of your arousal he freezes. Quickly he latches off of your nipple and escapes to the closest where he was safest.

[bi-curious--george]

An Open Letter To Taylor Swift

I feel silly even writing this. That being said.. what's it going to hurt? I know you have a tendancy to read things and lurking in places nobody would expect.  And personally, I don't think you'll ever actually read this, but I have always wanted to tell you what a fan I am, and I figure after this many years, it may be time.  I talked myself out of writing this, thinking nobody's going to read it, and that may be true, but, one time when i was drunk, I wrote president obama about how unjust the system was and rambled about domestic violence and he wrote me back a very personal letter and if that can happen because of my words, why not try to see if you read this and I can ramble about what an impact you made in my life.  And what a hypocrite i would be if i would sit every day telling people how important their stories are, but think that mine isnt important.  I don't need a response, and don't believe I will ever get one.. But it would mean the world to me if you knew how much you saved me as a kid.  To give you some context, I am a therapist now, but I have been a fan of yours since before your first album ever came out.  And I really believe that your album was a huge reason I got through my shitty childhood to be here today.  I would love to tell you a funny little glimpse of how I'm stumbled upon you.

So i grew up just dirt poor.  And i had a really, really traumatic childhood (and adulthood, but thats a different letter, to, Obama apparently) and i remember so vividly how i became a fan of yours.  So. I was trying to take a bath.  And i loved baths - this was my escape from my awful childhood right?   and i used to play the radio while i did and I'd crank the music.  And we lived in the middle of nowhere with no actual television reception so my parents had to pay for satellite TV.  So i did have that going  for me.   So i turn on the satellite radio on my parents tv all the way up, go draw my bath down the hall, and i get in the tub and get in, and i heard your music for the first time. I wish I could remember the first song, but i dont (I am betting Tim McGraw, but i dont recall precisely). What i do remember is me running down the hall in a towel, basically tripping over myself soaking wet, literally  dripping, yelling " DON'T CHANGE IT I NEED TO FIND OUT WHO IT IS".  And you or maybe the dj? announced your first album coming out, and i instantly knew what i was going to ask for for Christmas.  

I didnt think i was going to get it.  I actually rarely got what i wanted for gifts, They normally shopped at the dollar store. Around Christmas time, i showed them your CD and begged and begged for it. I still didn't think id get it. I have vague memories of showing them the CD of yours in a Kmart and very dramatically saying  " this one! " So They couldn't claim they didn't know which one it was when Christmas time rolled around. 

The suspense is killing you, im sure. So I'll  get to it, but, I did get your cd for Christmas. And then from that point on, every time I got screamed at, every time I was hurt, or I didn't feel heard, i could at least escape. It was a peace offering of sorts in my mind, i think.   My favorite song was probably "Tied Together With A Smile". 

Life got a little hard after that, I'd become a single mom at 19 and my relationships were, well, complicated, and your music just became more and more relatable. And I just was able to pour myself more and more into your music. I've always just been so thankful for your music to be there. I found a partner and I love him, and somehow your music is still relatable.

 I've appreciated that your music  has been there the whole time.  The staying power it had in my life, from teens to 30s, I think is what made it so impactful. Your music was the soundtrack of my life while ive been learning how to reclaim my life as my own - and seemingly watching you do the same. 

I always wished I could have seen you in concert. But money got tight, then stayed tight.  I settled for what i could- scream singing in the car and shower.   

I went to grad school, had some more kids, and I became a therapist and my parents disowned me which was a wild ride.  I tried so hard to get tickets to see you this time, I didn't think I would care that much, I even anticipated it not going in my favor as I was grown now and i can handle not getting to go to a concert if they ran out of tickets.

I will admit, this Ticketmaster fiasco felt so unfair.  I had worked for so long and so hard to get to a place where i could finally see you in person.  I had been a fan since before your first album.  Life had screwed me over so many times in so many ways, but it felt like i made it through it - and now i could support myself and spend my own money and be a part of this eras tour - see all the eras i couldn't see when i was hiding from the abusive relationships or couldn't afford the albums and had to repeat them on YouTube to memorize them.  I was crushed after 8+ hours of waiting to still not get tickets. 

I'm betting not hearing you in person probably hurt more at the time because I found you when I lived with my parents and  since I had been disowned semi recently by my parents and you had been such an integral part in my healing it became this awful metaphor for me not being able to move forward.  "I'm 32, I went to grad school, i still can't buy a house for my family, my car is going to die and I can't replace it (at the time), I'm stuck at a job that doesn't appreciate me, I can't even see the one concert I wanted, where did I fuck up so bad?" and like it was an awful loop of me messing up somewhere along the line.. and I cried probably every day from the day of Ticketmaster failure until the second day of Minneapolis, and even sometimes now even thinking about losing the chance. Ticketmaster had other ideas for me i guess.  And that's not on you, that's just a me thing.  And that's for my new therapist to unpack,  😂

I still try to watch the lives on tiktok so I can try to be a part of What is likely our generations Woodstock. You are doing amazing things, and I hope that you and your family and friends are endlessly proud of you.

Regardless, thank you for being a part of my journey, I'm so glad you were there. And if you ever tour again, which I hope you do, I'll see you there. 

I wrote this whole thing out on 8/1,  I was going to print it out and mail it as I had heard that's  the best avenue..  then I never got around to it as I felt silly. It's now 8/3, the day that more dates were announced (I knew it! I knew Canada would get some dates!)  Unfortunately Minnesota did not get more dates but I'm going to register for Indianapolis  on 11/2- it's worth a shot.  🤞. I slept on it, and said to myself, Let's put it on Tumblr and let the universe decide if you should see it.

[iconoclast-infidels]

"So you're cute and funny and now so willing to make accommodations. I got the whole package." He kept chuckling. "You know I know you know it."

Gary was more of a fret in his head. He was a newer family addition when they left and as much as Nico's heart missed him, he wasn't sure the animal would feel the same. Animals seem to adapt better to change than people do. He's never seen them as "just animals" or anything like that in a lesser way, but as a being that can speak to the vultures he still knows the animals have different intelligence than humans. Sometimes he wishes he could spread his own vulture-like wings and become one so he wouldn't have to keep dealing with the nuances people do.

"You sure? I hope so." He liked to think Gary actually remembered him. After fours years he was worried. "I've thought about him a lot. Mostly in the tub. Ernie might have rubber duckie. But Gary the penguin is who made bath time lots of fun for me." It was probably silly, but how could Nico step in a tub without thinking of that penguin? "I wish I could speak penguin too."

"See? Exactly. Totally a rule. It's gonna be fine."

He was glad Dmitry didn't take offense to how he was poking at him. It was meant to be playful. He always put his cards all out there in his own way so he could be heard, but it never meant anything more than affection, a way to grow together. He didn't usually actually think to be glad really. He was so used to Dmitry being the one that understood him, but after the break he wasn't going to take anything for granted. The rest of the world wasn't like Dmitry.

Some call it sass or even cynicism, but Dmitry interpreted Nico like he was his natural born language. If Nico was ever angry or being confrontational it was unmistakable. Hints and passive aggression wasn't his way. He came right out and said it. This was playful fun. If a little teasing couldn't be handled, don't date a demon. Fun fact, he can be teased back and it's like water off a duck's back. Nico once considered writing a book on that, a how to guide in the middle of watching their journal entries to help build a bridge between demons and humans, or just for shits and giggles, whatever end. He lost his confidence during the break. Maybe he'd reconsider again at a later date.

"Fuck yeah I am!" He may have gotten a few years older, but he still had the ability to the spazz out of nowhere even if his usual temp was a somber brood and zoom into a goofball mode. He flailed up with a jolt of energy. "You could watch me foreverrrr. Hell, babe. You might be flipping channels, trying to find something good. But nah. You gonna find yourself right back here for the thriller." Then even saying the word Thriller made him think of Michael. " Your Thrillerrrrr Thriller niiiiiiiiight. Fuck it. Just call me MJ. I'm about it." He kicked his foot out at the ankle, crossed them, hit his toe to the floor, and spun in a circle. He even tried to do the little pants tug at the end, but they didn't go far considering he always wore skinny ladies jeans. But hey he tried.

So, there was a little silliness before they held hands to get out of there. Nico had to settle himself down anyway because watching Dmitry look off balance sobered him.

"Shit. You..." He was about to ask if he was okay, but Dmitry seemed to get there himself first. "Okay. Let's do this. Yeah, Lisbeth can sit here if you want. She's your call. Hold on."

Then he did a double take making sure Dmitry looked stable even though he said he was fine and went to find a bowl to leave down for Lisbeth. "There we go."

"I'll keep her company."

Nico's face went pale... paler. The voice. A voice on the Hell Radio. Nico bore a clenched jaw and a face of annoyance.

"Seriously, not right now. We're trying to leave here."

"I was just-"

"Don't."

"But DMITRY!"

"If you manifest right now I will unalive you again. I swear to fuck, Jovan. This is our time. OUR TIME. Me and Dmitry's. Do you hear me? You will wait. You guys can have time later when he gets back. You will wait until I give the signal or I'll break every guitar in this house."

"You would not! You'd be fucking yourself."

"I've been alone a long time. I'm pretty good at that by now, buddy. You're missing the point."

"Fine! But I'm cat sitting."

"Fine! You can cat sit, but shut the fuck up. You're ruining my concentration. I'll never be able to step into the veil this way. You know I gotta focus. FUCK! Fuck it all."

Then as Nico realized he was arguing with the invisible entity in front of Dmitry he resigned to it all. Even if Dmitry could only hear Nico's side of the conversation. It didn't matter. It was probably easy to deduce what was going on here.

"Oh. Did I mention Jovan came back and never leaves me the fuck alone? Talk about Hell on Earth."

Then he made a face like he was responding to Jovan.

"I'm kidding. Kidding obviously. You're mother fucking Casper with a guitar." Then he waited a couple moments as he looked at Dmitry and smirked. "More like Beetlejuice always popping up at the wrong moments."

"Alright. Alright. Is everything settled? Can we all let me focus. I'm trying to go to Russia here. Veil. Veil. Totally in focus mode."

Right then a bird on the window started to flap it's wings and caught Nico's ears and threw off his concentration again. He darted his head to the right and saw it. It flew off.

"What the? I swear. I'm not a natual at this magic stuff. The universe is just trying to make me lose my cool right now." Then like a mantra he said, "I. Am. Un-Fuck-With-Able. I. Am. Un-Fuck-With-Able." He took another deep breath. He blew out. "Also, for the record. I don't care if we're going to Russia. Anybody asks who I am, I'm saying you're husband. I'm like a Swedish gay submarine, bitches. Okay. I'm good."

Jovan was giggling in the inbetween over by Lisbeth knowing the reference, but Nico didn't bother to explain himself if Dmitry didn't.

He took Dmitry's hand and stood side by side with him confidence and focus ready.

"Oh no, the horror! You, clinging to me, how will I ever live?" he giggled, not minding one bit. And about the mug, "Hey now, y'know that coffee is serious business. Это жизнь!" Life itself. "You'd go to the moon just for me if I asked for moon dust, you know I know it," he teased right back at Nico.

"Gary will be fine, I promise. He lives in a forest with... it's technically not a lake, but might as well be. We'll figure it out, he misses you," he said, hoping to reassure Nico.

He listened about Nova and nodded. "It's so a thing, definitely a rule." In truth, though he did believe that was true, he was also saying it for his own sake - he had to believe his mom would forgive him and not hate Nico either. It was the most important thing to him; he needed to keep his family together and his mom was family, but just as much as she was, so were Nico, Nova (whom he wanted to know better), and Nico and Dmitry's pets. He'd even have gone as far as to include friends in the list, like Amy and Jovan and Sammy - only, Jovan was now dead, Sammy had a very important job, and Amy, well... he hadn't seen or talked to Amy in years either. He'd really just isolated himself the entire time, not even realizing in the process how bad it had been. He hoped he'd never wind up in that kinda spot again. He didn't think he could handle it, and he didn't want to put Nico through that, not after having promised not to. He fully intended to keep that promise and guard it with his soul.

But then Nico pointed out Dmitry's selfishness in a way that felt... not judgemental, no. It was true, what Nico was saying - he'd never really seen how much of an effect on others his own mess could have, not like this. But then, he had never even thought it would be possible for an infernal transplant to take place, let alone two in one night. No, the American Mary situation had been far too much at once, and as much as he kept telling himself he was over it, he really truly wasn't.

But Nico was, instead, being sweet. He had pointed out the selfishness now more in appreciation than anything. At least, that's what Dmitry was getting from Nico's feelings: a whole lot of cuteness overload. "What, you're a cinema now? A Hollywood treasure?" Dmitry asked deadpan, but definitely referencing that one song. He had a sense of humor. It was also not exactly up to date.

He watched Nico empty out his nag and change into better shoes, and then when Nico offered his hands, Dmitry took them and stood up. He paused for a moment, eyes closed, holding tight to Nico so Nico wouldn't let go just yet, looking a little pale. Evidently, he'd stood up too fast. Once he felt better, he let go and nodded. "Let's go. Lemme uh... Water for Lisbeth, I think it's easier if she stays here maybe?" he suggested. He also threw his own shirt on, over Nico's shirt he was still wearing, not wanting to face Russian weather with no sleeves at all. That simply wouldn't do. "I'm ready."

[the8ook8ender]

Unravel- Part 1

This is a short story I wrote a while ago fully intending to continue it at some point. Since I have no idea when that would be, I've decided to post it here in parts. Feel free to let me know what you think and where you feel the story will go. I need the motivation. Cheers!

Chapter 1: Le petit Prince

“Till last by Phillip’s farm I flow, To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever”

- Song of the Brook, Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

The little boy’s cheeks still smarted where his father had slapped him. He felt the tears below his lids and scrunched up his face to keep them in.

“Boys don’t cry”, he whispered. “Boys don't cry” 

“Aye”, said a quavering voice, “but real men do”

“Don’t apologise for your tears, little one. If pain were meant to be felt alone, then one's eyes would not show the soul so truly”

The boy scrunched up his face some more. Two tears escaped his hold and flowed resolutely over his dimpled cheeks.

“Traitors”, he thought.

He finally looked up into the wrinkled face of the woman lathering soap into his curls. 

“I just wanted to see where the water was going”, he mumbled.

“And did you?” 

“I followed it all the way to the woods baba! There’s a stream and it flows and flows and gets bigger! It curved around the big rock that looks like father’s nose and- “

“And that’s where you fell on your face and ruined your best shoes”, she interrupted, scooping up some foam from the frothy tub and placing it softly on his nose.

He giggled.

“I got very muddy. Didn’t I”

“Aye, child. You scared your father half to death. Rain brings thunder dete. Your father does not like thunder. You will not do this again, yes?”

“Yes baba” 

“You lie like a rug lisiche. Now shush, So I can scrub your tiny fingers''

It grew quiet in the chambers of the little lord, until a clap of thunder split the sky and it began raining in earnest.

The boy shivered. He didn’t blame his father for being scared of the storms, he just wished the old duke wouldn’t slap him quite so hard. His father had cold hands.

“Where do you think the water goes, baba?”

The old woman took a second before replying, “Perhaps it flows and flows, all the way to the lake at the end of the world.”

“That’s silly. Everyone knows the world ends at the mountains. Father says your stories are ‘old wives tales’ ”

She nodded, “Indeed they are, for who knows more about the world than an old wife?”

Her fingers worked methodically into the little boy's curls as she spoke in earnest, “Beyond the mountains, there is a great plain, then a forest, and at the end of the forest, lies the great lake." 

"Everyday, the princess Vasillisa rows across the great lake to welcome the moon to her halls and see the sun off across his way through the skies. This is the truth! but you must tell no one. For when kings hear of princesses, they think of queens. But Vasillisa belongs to no man.”

“You are silly baba. But I’ll keep your secret”

***

[ace-ace-attorneys]

what are your favorite headcanons for 7 year gap phoenix? (i am such a sucker for beanix hehe as you can probably already tell <3)

i may have guessed from the profile pic alone if nothing else ;)

so! beanix thoughts incoming (warning for being disorganized and messy ahah):

- i think that he and Miles had already been in a relationship for a few months when Phoenix got disbarred. Miles tried incredibly hard to support him and be there for him, but instead of relying on him Phoenix just got more and more withdrawn. eventually they broke up, although it was more of a mutual separation where they both knew they'd end up back together eventually

- Miles was torn because on one hand he felt like Phoenix was pushing him away because he was depressed, and he didn’t want to let that happen, not when Phoenix had been there for him at his darkest times. But at the same time he wanted to respect Phoenix’s wishes and understood that Phoenix needed some time to figure out who he was, a) without his badge, and b) without Miles, having built his identity around those things for so long.

- So they separate for a while and Miles does his best to give Phoenix space although he does check in on him and Trucy periodically to make sure they’re okay. and when they do get back together Phoenix is in a better place and they're both just all around more ready for a serious relationship

- Trucy is the #1 thing that keeps Phoenix going, especially at first- not just because he has an obligation to care for her, but just her herself. she drags him out on walks and invites people over and reminds him to take his meds every day and helps him cook dinner and does so many things that made life more bearable for him

- and for a while he feels guilty about letting his little daughter take care of him, but eventually he realizes that this is her way of showing her gratitude for how he'd taken care of her and trying to do the same for him the best way she knows how. they take care of each other <3

- i am so absolutely torn between “the ‘grape juice’ was actually alcohol and he struggled a bit with alcoholism during the 7yg” and “no it was actually just grape juice the man really does love grape juice”. i cannot decide which one i like better because i think both are great takes for different reasons

-he hangs out with Maya on the weekends and they mostly sit around in their sweatpants complaining and gossiping and eating junk food. a couple times she dragged him out to a bar to do karaoke. she also jumps at every opportunity she gets to babysit Trucy

-i don't think he was ever in the best of physical shape but he definitely gains a significant amount of weight during the 7yg. it's not really a big deal to him but he does get a little self-conscious abt it when he thinks about how the people who knew him before must think he really let himself go. maya, who has always been on the chubbier side, points out to him that chubbier people are softer to hug. trucy concurs. as silly as it sounds, it makes him feel a lot better

-he and Trucy have a bunch of silly little family routines/inside jokes/things that only the two of them know about. they play a game every night and they do best 2 out of 3 rock paper scissors to determine who gets to pick. when they go for a walk the first person to spot a wild animal gets to choose what they have for dessert that night. every year for Christmas Trucy buys him the weirdest pair of socks she can find, and he buys her the most outlandish hat he can find and they both have to wear them the next day. every time they leave the house they race to see who can get their shoes on and be ready first. they play the floor is lava. once a month they stay up all night watching horror movies and eating ice cream directly out of the tub.

-at first the piano thing is very much just a cover for Phoenix's real job at the club but he figures he should learn just enough to be believable, and in the process he discovers it's actually pretty fun and kind of meditative, and starts trying to learn for real. Trucy joins in and is immediately way better than he is. (he's a little put out by this but she cheekily promises to give him pointers)

[boba-beom]

❥ whisker dimples | choi beomgyu

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader genre: fluff, crack | oneshot warning(s): mentions of food, beomgyu’s a simp hehe, a kith or two is shared 👉👈, not proof read (i’m sorry) wc: 1.5k note: this may or may not be a little something for one of my favourite bamtoris 🥺 @scintillasofbeomgyu happy birthday again my love, I wish you the best for everything and in anything you do, it’s not much but i hope you like this hehe have a splendid day ♡ 

During the past few weeks you felt like you needed to change your appearance, and in that case you were in dire need of a haircut — or well, that’s what you thought. Was there a reason? Not really, but must there be a reason for this spontaneous hair cut?

Indeed. Choi Beomgyu. He’s the reason.

It was fair to say that since he grew out his hair, and gradually obtained his now-signature wolf cut, he has been thriving with this sudden aura. And perhaps you wanted to try that out too, or maybe a little part of you just wanted to match with him.

Your contemplative thoughts were unexpectedly interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing, looking down at the screen to see that it was Beomgyu calling. You almost immediately answer it just from one glance.

“Yaaaaahhh!” You flinch your head away from the speaker of your phone, retracting your arm practically an arm length away from your face. “Can we meet today? I miss you and it’s been so long since I last saw you. I don’t even know when the last time was. I don’t think I even remember what you look like anymore.” You chuckle at his sudden outburst of exaggerated remarks.

“Gyu, you’re silly~ but hmm... I don’t know if we can meet...” Beomgyu senses the deliberate pout in your voice and he huffs at your response.

“Y/n~ I’m literally picking up tteokbokki right now, unless you don���t want to share, then I guess I’ll just have it all for myself-”

“OKAY! Okay, we can meet at the park. You’re lucky I like you.” Your voice hushed at the end of your sentence, immediately blushing even though you’ve told him plenty times over how much you liked him. It’s just a matter of time when you’ll be hearing the same.

Beomgyu chuckles over the phone, it was breathy and you were thankful that it wasn’t a video call otherwise he’d notice your flustered state. “Sorry, could you repeat that last part? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Don’t push it.” You listen out for his laugh once more before ending the call to go and get your hair cut.

You arrive first at the park, knowing that no matter how early he says he would be he’d still end up arriving later than you. It didn’t take you long to lay out the picnic blanket with your bluetooth speaker on one corner and your tote bag on the other corner; holding it down from being blown away by the slight breeze.

It’s been a few minutes since you sat down, even finished your daily social media scroll, and you were about to text him. “Hi stranger.” Your head shoots up to meet with his tapioca pearl-like eyes, glistening with mirrored admiration. One hand is carrying a plastic bag with what seems to be a large tub of tteokbokki, but in the other was a red rose intertwined in his fingers.

“Beomgyu? What is this?” You receive the rose as he sits beside you and opens up the tub in front of you both, laying out two pairs of chopsticks for you both.

“It’s a rose, silly.” He shakes his head, sarcastically rolling his eyes at you until you lightly tap his head with the fragrant flower. Again, his chuckles were an immediate boost of serotonin. “I just thought I’d give some copy cat a rose for effort. You know, for trying to copy my hair style.” Beomgyu playfully sticks out his tongue at you, throwing his head back and laughing once he received the expression he was looking for. You bite the inside of your cheeks, apprehensive to let him see that you want to laugh with him.

Your eyes scan his bright complexion, his eyes slightly creasing on the outer corners, nose slightly scrunched and his smile reaching from ear to ear, but this other adorable feature of his drew your attention away quick enough — his whisker dimples. His laugh seems so heartfelt that you couldn’t help but to let out a slight chortle.

“I mean, I think I look better with this hair cut than you do.” You nonchalantly shrug your shoulders. All you hear from Beomgyu on the other hand is a click of his tongue, an attempt to seem unbothered, but realistically he was pleased that you think you look good.

You’re sitting cross legged, palms beside you as you lean back slightly. The slight breeze is once again present from the way the hairs framing your face cover up a little more than Beomgyu liked. “You know,” he began, his fingers collect the stray hairs and tuck them securely behind your ear. “My girl is so pretty— hell, she’s beautiful.”

He leans back, mimicking your position but still searching your face for some sort of reaction. But you were stunned. My girl. Beautiful. It wasn’t all the time you get to hear your crush, never mind your best friend, say those words to you. Eventually, you shut your eyes briefly to recollect your breathing pattern.

“I like you. A lot. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and I don’t regret taking that last tub of tteokbokki.” At this point it was difficult to not crack a smile, the apples of your cheeks start to form after he reminded you of the first time you met, when he took the last tub that you were reaching out for, but he felt bad at some point and asked if you wanted to share it.

Though you’ve been together and almost behaved like you've been attached by the hip since then, you were the first to voice out your feelings toward him but you didn’t want to force an answer out of him instantly. Yet here you are, sitting on a picnic blanket that you’ve used plenty of times to eat the same snack that’s become both your favourites, and Beomgyu confessing to you like you’ve daydreamed of.

You shuffle in your place, adjusting to sit up and face him directly. “I’m so glad you took that last tub,” leaning forward, you lay a hand on his cheek and placed a short, chaste kiss on his lips. They were so soft, so gentle. You hear him let out a sigh once your lips disconnected, watching his eyes widen at you as he traps his bottom lip between his teeth, daring to not let the smirk show through but failed miserably.

“Do that again, I wasn’t ready.” He puckers his lips, making exaggerated kissy noises as you nudge him. Your cheeks were burning and you thought that might just have been the boldest thing you’ve done. Your eyes travel to the two soft lines on either side of his nose as he laughs at your response, admiring the way it fades but returns from when he laughs too hard.

For a moment, his laugh turned into a quiet chuckle. His eyes focused on one of yours, watching his lashes feather downward as they flicker to glance at your lips, tracing the outline of your cupid’s bow and back up to your other eye. You were, for some reason, too hesitant to lean it again. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears that the Choi Beomgyu is yours, and you are his.

He leans in, slowly snaking a hand behind your neck and the other at the small of your back, bringing you closer towards him. “Be my person?” Only mere centimetres away from each other’s faces you nod slowly until your foreheads touch, and that was Beomgyu’s cue to proceed with his actions. His lips moved with in sync with yours, lasting a little longer than the first kiss you shared, taking advantage of the very little space between you, he drags you swiftly onto his lap.

A sudden soft moan was let out between you and for all you knew, that sure wasn’t you. Your arms are draped over his shoulders as you disconnect for the second time, hearing Beomgyu whine ever so slightly as you lean away from his third attempt. “You’re so cute. You’re getting a little too into it, and we’re at a park.”

“I don’t care, you’re a good kisser and now I think my most favourite thing about you are your kisses.” You glare at him and push at his shoulder with no strength, thinking that’s all you were to him. He cleared his throat feeling your stare pierce right through him. “I mean, after your personality, of course.”

“I thought so.” You break a smile, watching him replicate yours before resting the side of his head at the base of your neck. Today was a good day, and you felt like you could stay sitting like this forever, because what did you have to lose? Beomgyu’s arms wrap around your waist, hands alternating in rubbing minuscule circles on your back that seemed so relaxing.

Once again, you hear him clear his throat, feeling the slight vibrations through your chest.

“Hey, Y/n. I think the tteokbokki’s cold.”

[thatbanditqueen]

Well, I am going to admit that I am a lousy, yella-bellied fan girl because I had some ideas as to how I would answer this, but wanted to see what you all said and now i have changed my mind about 50 times with permutations of all my favorite ones changing based on mood and reading your responses. I'll confess my first choice was to fuck Tulsa because he is in amazing shape, and goofy fun, I want him to make some of those silly faces as we slap skins. I'm a fan of talking and making jokes while figuring out how our bodies fit together, because sex is absurd and hilarious. I was all set to marry Dr. John Carpenter and run a clean little women's health center in Harlem. And I was ready to kill Charlie Rogers, he's angry and indecisive and difficult and mean and causes traffic accidents pissing people off trying to pick up their daughters riding his motorcycle. He's one of my least favorite characters. I love Vince and Jodie and Ross and Greg and Walter but you know, this was an impossible choice.

That said, here is my answers for where I am tonight....

Fuck: Deke Rivers

My favorite movie is probably Loving You because I can still hear the Mephiss in that home town local talented country boy's voice. If I was younger, I would marry him. But I am an old lady, with a soft spot for this boy with a troubled past who fights without killing 'em, and appreciates the guidance of an older woman. Oh Deke, I'm lonely too let's keep each other company, NSA, and I'll wish you well when you find a good little girl to marry.

Marry: Jess Wade

Y'all just wanna use him and loose him. But I'm ready to move off the grid and ride into the sunset with this rugged cowboy with a heart of gold. The way he walks in those corduroys, his scruffy beard and all that dirt, I'm here with a tub full of hot water to wash you off and bring you into my bed every night. I'm too old to train babe E, I want a ready made man, and we'll never spoil our marriage talking about our sordid lives before we met. I also kind of like that he doesn't sing.

Kill: Chad Gates

I am absolutely ripping off @alienelvisobsession on this one, she proposed killing Tulsa because that was the first campy silly rom com musical that came to be the template for Elvis movies in the 1960s. I love all the 1960s rom coms on principle because I think there is something I could enjoy in every Elvis movie. Movie studios are not factories, and some are better than others because they were made by more talented people. But what kills me is how Elvis felt creatively throttled by the "Elvis Movie Formula," and while it may have started with Tulsa, it was perfected and cemented with Chad. Hal Wallis, Abe Lastfogel and the Colonel had a meeting in Hawaii and decided that Blue Hawaii would be the formula for Presley pictures going forward. Tulsa could have been a one off experiment, or a genre that Elvis dabbled in, but BH and Chad sowed it up for Elvis. Chad is also a bit of a douche in my book. I know you guys love him, and I appreciate E in Hawaii in those tidy whities. But Chad kisses that stewardess knowing Maile is waiting for him, he sings "I Was Always Almost True to You," which is a song I hate it. And one of my favorites, he best song in this movie, you know that one, was thrown away in a scene that had Elvis sing it to a wicker chair. Oh, and Angela Lansbury's hammy absurd performance makes me detest one of my favorite actresses. So yes, Chad Gates MUST DIE.

Ok, this is my answer.... for now. I'll probably change it in the morning.

Fuck, Marry, Kill Elvis Film Characters

Hey, you!

Workday doldrums got you down? Feel like your job is sucking your very soul from you and everyone is off having summer fun while you toil away doing utter work bullshit? You want to leave, but your shoes feel water logged and your head feels like it's full of concrete? Well, this game is for you to cheer you up. Who would you marry fuck and kill from E's fictional film characters?

I am totally stealing this, I saw this game on my feed a few weeks ago and stupid work was dragging me down like it is this week.... I forgot who was playing it but in typical Norah fashion I'll just pretend it was my idea.

Tagging a few people to get us started but anyone can and should play!

@whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love@powerofelvis @generoustreemystic @loving-elvis @doll-elvis @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @moonchild-daniella @everythingelvispresley @kingdomforapony @freudianslumber @c-rosenn @deke-rivers-1957 @avengen @prompted-wordsmith and @arianatheangel-girl because I know she loves talking E characters as much as I do!

[saynotoshityouhate]

For Science Ch. 5

Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4

Words: 1781

Tags: angst, love, neediness, bathtub sex, he’s too big but (spoiler) we make it work.

It had been three days. Three long, agonizing days since Bruce slammed the front door and ran away. Yesterday he sent a text, asking if he could come home. Seeing his name light up your screen made your heart jump, so happy to know he was safe and coming back to you. You responded with an enthusiastic yes.

He’d never left like this before - you’d never had a fight or had a moment where his emotions took over so badly. Of course you’d welcome him back, you’d never worried he would hurt you. Not anymore - not since he’d found this new happy medium between his two personas. Bruce clearly wasn’t as confident.

It was hard having him gone for those first few days of your new job at the university, and you’d wished he’d been there to laugh at some of the silly mistakes you had made. His bellowing chuckles were some of your favorite noises in the world.

Pulling up the driveway after classes were through, you saw Bruce’s car parked back in its normal place. Your stomach flipped, unsure what to expect, although you were mostly excited to see him.

You quietly opened the back door, walking into the kitchen. Taking off your heels, you heard soft, muffled classical music and smelled lavender and citrus. You smiled, heading straight to the master bath. The door was cracked open slightly, and you could see the warm glow of candles dancing across the shiny tile walls.

You knocked quietly on the door and pushed it open gently, just enough to stick your head inside. “Bruce?”

Bruce’s head was resting against the cool tile behind him, his eyes closed and his breathing regular. He must have just fallen asleep, his large frame filling most of the oversized jacuzzi tub. “Bruce?” You whispered again, awakening him from his dream. His warm eyes met yours, taking a moment to focus and register that you were really there. “Y/N, I -“ Bruce rested his hands on the side of the tub, beginning to push himself up to greet you. “No, no - stay there, you look so peaceful.” You nervously played with the hem of your untucked blouse.

“May I?” You lifted your hands to the top buttons of your blouse, pausing for Bruce’s approval. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he nodded, adjusting his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose. You proceeded in unbuttoning your crisp white shirt, setting it off to the side. Your back was turned to the submerged Bruce, but you knew the slight shimmy of your hips as you stepped out of your skirt and panties would excite him.

You backed yourself over to the edge of the tub, presenting your back to Bruce. He loved unclasping your bra for you. He took pride in being able to do it with just a flick of his finger, and seeing the tension leave your back and shoulders filled him with warmth. You moved the straps down your shoulders and dropped it to the floor, reveling in the ease of domestic life with Bruce - even in this uncomfortable silence.

Lowering yourself into the bubbles across from him, you sighed. The last few days had been hard on you, you were worried about Bruce, had started your new job, and had been brainstorming on ways to reverse your boyfriend’s physical predicament. You stretched your legs out in front of you, resting them against Bruce’s thighs. He took one foot in his large hand, rubbing the arch with gentle pressure. Your eyes fluttered closed at the wonderful release.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for how I reacted.” Bruce’s eyes were cast downwards in shame. “I was so upset with myself, I didn’t want to risk anything happening…” You interrupted him. “No, I overreacted. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just happy you’re back.” You poked him with your other foot, asking him to do the same magic there as well.

“Where did you go?” You asked timidly, not sure you really wanted to know the answer. “I just went to the tower - Tony left my room as-is…just in case.” You made a noise of acknowledgement, your fingers idly playing with the bubbles that adorned your chest.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” Bruce extended a hand, inviting you to come closer. You accepted, allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I was scared, Bruce.” He held your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

You kissed him fiercely, as if you wanted him to stop talking before he gave any excuses or reasons to leave again. You couldn’t help the whimpers leaving your chest, three days was a long time for you two to be apart.

Bruce’s cock throbbed against you, eliciting a groan from the large man. “I missed you so much,” he mumbled, nipping and sucking at your neck and collar bone. Moving to straddle his waist, Bruce’s hands found your hips, helping hold you steady.

“I wanna try - I think I can do it - I wanna try.” You ground your hips against his hardening length, your breaths already ragged and uneven. You knew it would hurt, but you wanted to do this for him. You were certainly wet enough. “No, I don’t wanna hurt you, don’t-“

You had your mind made up. Your much smaller hand took Bruce’s from his waist, bringing it to your core. “Stretch me out, please. I need you.” He could never resist you. Slowly inserting one large digit, knuckle by knuckle, his eyes were trained on you, closely monitoring for any inkling of pain or discomfort. You were feeling nothing of the sort. Your head was thrown back, the stretch sending delicious shockwaves through your limbs.

“One more, please” you breathed. “Y/N, I-“ You shot him a look, like daggers from your irises. “One. More. Please.” Bruce sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He adjusted his fingers, slowly adding a second, drawing a moan from deep inside you. “I think - I think I’m ready. Please - give it to me? Let me make you feel good. Please?”

“Baby, I’m not sure about this. Let’s just start here, you’re taking me so well, maybe next time, we gotta take it slow.” You whined, loudly, and bucked your hips down onto his two, thick fingers. The water of the tub splashed over the edge. “Don’t wan’ take it slow, Bruce. Wan’ you - your cock. Puhleeeaase, Bruce.”

“The minute anything starts to hurt, you have to tell me, okay? Promise?” You nodded your head vigorously before pulling him closer and kissing him in gratitude. Bruce slowly removed his digits, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing but the bath water.

Bruce’s eyes were dark with lust, but still maintained the warmth of his concern for you. He held your gaze as he aligned himself with your opening. Every millimeter seemed to take an hour, your breath hitching in your throat as you stretched further to accommodate him. Bruce held your hips tightly, trying to maintain control and composure as you took him so well. It had been years since he felt the velvety warmth of a woman around him.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to move slowly and methodically. You focused on your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth - pushing out whines and whimpers along the way. You attempted to hide your face in the crook of his neck, but Bruce pushed you back, wanting to keep an eye on you. “You’re doing so well, my girl, look at you.”

Looking down, you expected to see that he had completely bottomed out inside you, but there was plenty more left to go. His hand held the base, not allowing you to go any further, if that was even possible. You smiled up at him, so proud of yourself, feeling so full.

Bruce’s heart swelled - and he could finally relax knowing you were okay…better than okay really. You began to rock your hips, exploring your body’s limits, feeling the push and pull of Bruce against your walls. It was worth the effort.

You established a comfortable rhythm, riding him slowly, but forcefully. The waves of now lukewarm water splashed around you, adding to the symphony of delicious noises you both were making - the feelings sending you both into nonverbal bliss. Bruce began to tense, and you weren’t far behind. The only one with a free hand, you reached down to access your clit, quickly sending shockwaves of pleasure ripping through you. You clenched down on Bruce’s girth as you climaxed, sending him over the edge with you. His guttural growl sent vibrations through your skin as he filled you up for the very first time. You collapsed into him, every muscle giving out from the pain and exertion.

Bruce held your weakened body in his arms, both of you exhausted beyond belief. The tub had turned cold and you began to shiver. Concerned, he held you tightly with one arm while he used the other to push himself out of the bath. You clung tightly to his neck as he walked you to the bedroom. Placing your down gently, he dried you off with a towel and handed you your robe to snuggle up into before returning to clean up the bathroom. Once you were dressed, you crawled back to the pillows aligned neatly on your bed and waited for Bruce to return.

Wrapped up in your fluffy robe, you nuzzled into Bruce’s chest. “Can I ask you a question?” Your fingers idly traced his chest, droplets of water still gripping the coarse hairs on his sternum. Bruce grunted in the affirmative, his eyelids were heavy the minute his head hit the pillow. “If you could, you know, switch back. Would you?”

Bruce hummed. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. Done some basic calculations, consulted with colleagues…but that was all before.”

“Before what?” You whispered, tipping your head to look up at him, his eyes still closed gently.

“Before you. Before our life together. Before I saw the way your eyes light up when I enter a room. You read about that sort of thing in books, right? But I never knew it was real. And me? Of all people? In this state?” You sat up, captivated by his words, tears welling up and blurring your vision. His eyes met yours, one hand tracing your spine, while the other held yours.

“So no. I’m not interested in changing back. I am Bruce Banner, I am the Hulk, and I love you.”

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hi Hi!!! I was wondering if I could request a reader treating their S/O's wounds after a fight/accident. Possibly with Diluc, Kaeya, and Albedo? Thank you so much I absolutely love your writing :D

^ I love Albedo so much - silly little forgetful genius 

Warning -> cleaning injuries, playful/joking 

Character X GN Reader | Anthology  

Includes: Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo⚘

Diluc

Diluc would be pretty angry if he got hurt. It doesn’t matter hoe either, it could be because he was out protecting the city or found himself in a fight, but his pride would be hurt the most if it was because of an accident 

He’d beat himself up for being careless and not paying attention - don’t mistake his terrible mood for being annoyed at you, it’s all turned inward 

“This is a pretty bad cut.” You take his arm in your hand and look over the wound. It’s hard to tell, but it looks as if it spans from his triceps to his upper bicep. The blood has soaked into his shirt and when you go to examine the rip he pulls away from you. 

“You don't need to fuss with it.” 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

“Of course I do.” You reach back out to him but he pushes your hand away which makes you huff. It was admirable how much he did and how hard he fought for others, but sometimes his pride got in the way of what was best. You wished he would let those walls down easier. 

Diluc was always so much for you - in everything he did you couldn’t keep yourself together and you felt your body tingle from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your feet. You loved him and sometimes it was painful 

“Still, it needs to be treated.” You reached for him for the third time and his hesitancy began to slip. Carefully, you unbuttoned his shirt, keeping a close watch on his facial expressions. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is turned into a frown but he isn’t fighting you. Once you get enough of it unbuttoned, you slide it over his shoulder, and, as if you could forget, you catch sight of his beautiful skin. The muscles around his eye scrunched as you slide the sleeve of his shirt over the injury. “Sorry.” 

You’d seen him many times before, but the air in your lungs always escaped when you did, there was something beautiful about him with his shirt half off - how it accentuated his chest and back muscles, the way his vibrant hair complemented his dark shirt and pale skin 

You began to clean his wound. First, you wiping it with a cloth, making sure to use a gentle touch so as to not irritate the skin anymore before applying the medicinal cream you often kept on hand. 

Even as your eyes looked over the injury, you couldn’t help but glance at his face and look for any sign of discomfort. Soon, you found your gaze trailing down his neck and over his chest. It was unbelievable how attractive he was, and you couldn’t understand that out of everyone, he chose you. 

You rummaged through the medical supplies until your hands found the bandages. Shifting closer to Diluc and resting his hand against your outer thigh you began to wrap his injury as carefully as you could. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” 

“Not particularly, all that you need to know is the issue has been dealt with.” His chin rested in his free hand and he avoided your eyes. 

“Hmm. I’m not surprised, you’re more than capable. I’m nearly done.” You wrapped his arm a few more times for good measure before clipping the bandages together with one of the small metal clasps. “That should do. We should change the bandages tomorrow, but I don’t think you’ll lose the arm.” You chuckle and bend to your side, the items in the medical kit a disorganized mess and you work quickly to get them back in order. When you sit back up Diluc is still sitting in the chair in front of you, which you didn’t expect. 

You open your mouth to say something but stop when he turns to you. He runs his fingers against the side of your head, pushing strands of your hair over your ear. His hand rests there for a second, his thumb sliding across your cheek and you feel the goosebumps climb up your back and over your shoulders, seeping into your heart. 

“I’ll be more careful next time.” His eyes shift back and forth between your own, his face haloed by fiery hair. 

“Mhm.” You nod and he releases you. You gaze at him as he stands by the dresser and works his way into a fresh shirt. 

Kaeya

Kaeya loves being pampered by you - he cannot get enough of your touch anyway, and when you care for him, clean him up - all your attention on him - well he gets kind of a big head 

“How many times have I told you to be more careful.” You scold him as you position yourself behind the chair. 

“At this point, I’ve lost count.” He bent backward and tilted his head until he could look up at you. Even though the two of you had been together for some time, he still found ways to set your veins on fire. 

He looked at you and at this angle, you were given a perfect view of his neck and chest. You couldn’t help but notice the discolored skin where he had been injured in battles past. He may be quick on his feet, but he was still human. 

As nimbly as he could, he wrapped one of his arms around your back and pulled you close to him. 

“Who needs to worry about being safe when they have their own personal nurse.” You laughed and leaned down to place a quick kiss on his forehead. He hummed and the sound warmed your chest.

“I might be out of a job if you don’t be more careful.” You traced your fingers up his neck and along his jawline before giving him a gentle pat against his ear. “Now lean up so I can work.” 

He complied, returning his arm to rest on his legs and you settled back over his shoulder. With a light touch, you gripped onto his bicep and pushed it further into the light. The injury, while painful looking, didn’t seem to be too dangerous. 

Kaeya was cocky - sometimes more than he should be, and while he was perfectly capable of keeping himself out of harm's way, he didn’t know everything all the time 

Taking care of him like this was intimate in its own way. He wanted to be close to you and normally his hands were the ones trailing their way across your skin, but when these situations came up you had more justification to touch him without reservation 

The cut stretched across his shoulder blade, almost as if a blade was deflected from striking him in the back. You grabbed the cloth from the warm tub of water and wring it out until there were only a few drops coming off of it. Wrapping it around your hand so you have more control, you slip your pointer and middle finger into the cloth and hold it together in your palm, this way you can clean the skin around the cut more efficiently. 

You admire how flawless his skin is as you clean the blood. You hope this doesn’t leave a lasting scar, but honestly, it wouldn’t be the first and unlikely to be the last. As carefully as you could, you begin to clean the edges of the injury. When you hear him suck in the air quickly you stop. 

“Ah, did that hurt?” 

“Heh, nothing I can’t handle.” He laughs in good humor and shifts a bit in the chair. 

“Oh, so I can stop being so gentle then?” 

“Now hold on.” He begins to turn around, his confident smile already slipping. 

“I’m kidding.” You reassure him with a snicker, placing your hand on the side of his arm. “Be a good patient and relax.” 

You finish cleaning his wound and covering it with the healing ointment before working on placing the bandage. Thankfully, the Knights always had everything on hand so it made the whole process quick and relatively painless. 

“I think we are good.” You pack away the items and place them back into the medical cabinet, the door closes with a satisfying click. Walking over to the small refreshment table you pour water into a cup and make sure you take both it and the pain medication back to Kaeya. As you make your way back to him he’s already putting his shirt back on, a shame really. “Here, these should help with the pain.” 

You hold out your hand to him and wait for him to finish. When he turns around and his eyes land on the pills in your hand he smirks. 

“I know another way to alleviate pain.” He walks toward you and you already feel the urge to roll your eyes. 

“And what is that?” 

“Kissing.” He looks down at you and pulls at your shirt. He closes his eyes and leans down to your face but you hold him off. 

“Hey now. Why don’t you take these and then we can talk.” You knock your knuckles onto his slightly exposed chest and with a huff he concedes. Quickly, he takes the medicine in his hands and tosses them in his mouth, you offer him the water but he doesn’t take it. “Good jo…” He cuts you off. His lips connecting with yours and his hands pulling you close. 

He pulls away and looks at you, “See, my way is so much better.” 

“Cheeky.” You poke back and fail in your attempt to get away from his lips. 

Albedo 

He’s taken care of himself for so long that it’s still a shock sometimes to have someone dote on him as much as you do - you’re always around to help him and he’s starting to find your company quite enjoyable 

Here’s the kicker - Albedo wouldn’t notice if he had been injured until way later - so when you react loudly near him he doesn’t completely follow nor understand what has made you so upset

“Albedo! What happened?” You reach out to his face and when he disconnects from the papers that have kept his attention for so long you see the confusion in his eyes. 

“Y/N, sorry. I’m not sure I know what you mean.” 

“You have a cut on your face.” You brush his hair away from his forehead and shake your head as you see the cut across his brow. 

He reached up and touched his head, when he pulled his hand back to his line of sight and saw the blood on his fingertips his reaction was calm. “Well, this is a surprise.” 

You turn around and walk toward one of the cabinets in the research facility. It wasn’t uncommon for small accidents like these to happen here. Often, the experiments would become quite volatile or their reactions unexpected. You pulled the items from the shelf and remembered the time an unfortunate student lost his eyebrows. 

Quickly, you made your way back to Albedo’s side and placed the medical box on the counter next to you. As you rummage through the items in the box you start to talk to yourself, narrating out everything you were doing as well as your thoughts. 

“I know there should be some things in here that will help. I could have sworn that it had, ah yes. Here you are tricky thing.” You tear open a small bag and pull out a cloth. As quickly as possible you get it wet and feel it begin to lather under your fingers. “I’ll use this to clean your wound and then I’ll bandage it.” 

You walk back to Albedo and place your hand against his cheek. He’s been watching you this whole time and lets you do as you please. “Where is Sucrose when you need her. At least she seems to keep you out of harm's way … sometimes at least.” At this point, you are mumbling, and more to yourself than you are to Albedo. When he laughs you freeze, one hand resting under his chin and the other against his forehead. “What’s so funny?” 

“You’re so upset that you’re talking to yourself.” 

“Oh … really?” 

“Mhm” 

“… I didn’t even notice.” You feel your ears get warm and pinch your lips together. 

“It’s fine. I often talk out loud when I’m looking at my research.” 

It never ceased to amaze you how similar the two of you were - how you could both get so lost in whatever you were doing that the world seemed to fade away 

Still - Albedo was the only person in your life who could keep your attention on the here and now - from the day you met him he was your present and, hopefully, your future 

“This should be enough, does your head hurt?” You placed the bandage over his injury. The research facility was really to thank for the adhesive additions to small bandages like this. Somehow, they managed to make the edges sticky enough to adhere to the skin, but not too much to make it impossible to remove. 

“No, it seems to be okay. Thank you.” He reached up and grabbed your hand and let it rest in his lap. 

“No problem.” You avert your eyes and let them rest on the floor. He gives your hand a squeeze before letting you go and the warmth of his palm leaves yours chilled. The two of you just live in the comfortable silence for a second, he glances your way and you push the medical box along the counter. Finally, you break the silence, “I should put this back.” 

You pack up the items and close the box before walking back to the cabinet where you got it. As you slide it back onto the shelf the question you never got the answer to slipped back into your brain. 

“Hey,” you begin, turning around and leaning against the counter. “So do you remember how you got the cut on your head?” You cross your arms and stare at him from across the space. 

He scratches his head with his pencil and shakes his head. “I can’t recall. Oh, are you busy though?” 

“No, I’m free the rest of the day.” You reply. 

“Excellent, would you be inclined to stay and assist me? I have a number of things I’m working on and would appreciate the extra hands.” 

“Sure. Where can I start?” You push yourself from the counter and take a few steps toward him. 

“Ah yes, I need to organize the specimens in the closet back there … ” he stands and begins to walk toward the back closet, you head that way and reach it before he does. “There were a number of things to do …” 

His voice trails off as you open the door and find a great number of items littering the floor. Boxes, books, papers, and other random items spread about in complete disarray. 

“Oh … I think I remember how I got injured.” He stares over your shoulder and in defeat, you cover your eyes with your hand.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Words: 864

Rating: T

Summary: Mammon usually has a reason for spending so much money

Seven Days for Seven Brothers Series - AO3

The lights of the city below sparkle and tinkle below like modern day fireflies. This high up you think you can see all the way to Abysmal Beach. With it being so dark in the night, however, you can’t be sure whether it’s the dark sea or just plan darkness stretching out past the skyline.

You look up when you hear the door to the bathroom click open, and Mammon came out. Steam wafting past behind him with a towel hanging low on his hips, while another plush towel mussed his hair.

“Only you could look so annoyed in a 400-thread count robe, [Y/N].” He said with a grin.

“You took my clothes.” You told them.

“No I didn’t! I sent them downstairs to have them dry cleaned. One of the perks of being in this swanky hotel.”

“I still don’t understand why we came here.” You remind him. You’d asked a few times where you were going when he picked you up this morning and why you were here before now, but he didn’t answer you. He would just make some comment about ‘how nice it was to get away’ or attempt to distract you with something in the hotel, or the mixed nuts in the mini-bar. He was clearly dodging the question, and you had the suspicion that he had no better reason of being here than because he wanted to be and spending a ton of money.

“Come on [Y/N]. Lighten up, will ya!” The demon bemoaned as he flopped down on his chest beside you on the bed, after changing into his own fluffy cloud of a robe. “We’re in this super nice hotel. We got this nice room, with a big bed. One of those tubs with the jets. Champagne, and fancy fruit, and cheeses, and chocolate. How can you be upset about all this?!”

“I’m not ‘upset’.” You correct him. “I just don’t understand why we’re here. I get you’re the Avatar of Greed and everything, but you usually have a reason for spending money like this.” No matter how slim or unfounded those reasons might be. “I’m not ungrateful, and this is all very nice, but I wish you’d tell me what’s up.”

Mammon’s lips scrunched into a pout the more you spoke, and a blush formed on his cheeks. He wasn’t looking at you. Which was never a good sign. Then he pressed his face into the plush comforter and muttered into it, “s’urinnvsary.”

“Hn?” You ask curiously. Not understanding him at all.

“Isrsouvary!” He muttered louder. As if volume had been the problem.

“Mammon, I can’t understand you when you’re talking into the bedding.”

“It’s our anniversary ok!” He finally shouted. Lifting his head from the bed with an angry, but more than that, embarrassed expression.

You blink dully at him. It….was? You didn’t even know that you guys had an anniversary. Let alone that it was today.

The silver head demon huff and folded his arms under his chin to sulk. “Today is the day we made our pact.”

“It is?”

“Gah! Seriously [Y/N] ?! I didn’t expect ya to be all excited, but at least remember!”

“I’m honestly surprised you remember.”

“Of course I remember! It’s the day you changed my life!” You were both shocked by what Mammon had said and you were both blushing now. He tucked his head back into his arms to hide his face, waiting there for a moment before he continued. “I know it still may not seem like a big deal to ya, but for us it is. For a demon to make a pact with a human, let alone I, The Great Mammon, is a super rare thing. And…t-the way I feel about ya, and how I felt when we made it…” He was fidgeting now. “I wanna remember that. I wanted to do something ….special.” He was fidgeting even more now. “We don’t really have anything of our own any more. ‘S not like I’m mad you’re spending time with the others too, but I get real bummed about it sometimes too. So…that’s why I wanted to come here. To be alone with you. Do something special for today. A day just for us.”

You were honestly surprised with how much thought Mammon had put into this. He was usually a ‘call to action’ type of demon. The fact that he had made such an elaborate plan, just for you, and was being so honest was more of a gift than the hotel room was.

You shift around to lay down beside him, parallel so you were face to face, with your feet at the headboard, and smile at him. “If it’s any consolation, you’ll always be my first.” You grin at the startled expression on his face, followed by his increasing blush. You lean in and give Mammon a kiss. One that he eagerly returns. “I’m sorry that I didn’t know it was our anniversary. I’m just a dumb, silly human.”

“You’re not dumb.” Mammon insisted, seeming a bit miffed you were talking about yourself that way, and shifted around to he could wrap you in his arms. “But you are my silly human.”

[aj-the-cat]

Turned

Masterlist

The Undertaker (Ministry) and F!Reader

Tags: If you'd like to be on my tag list, please let me know!

Warnings: Blood drinking, human agony

Based on my personal headcannon that Ministry Taker was basically a vampire. Enjoy!

Also, heres a key for anyone who doesn't know them:

(E/C) - Eye color

(H/C) - Hair color

(Y/N) - Your name

Hurried footsteps sounded on the cobble floor. Dressed in all black, loose clothing, the man was rushing to deliver a message. Out of breath, he finally reached his destination: a room designated to two men. He knocked on the large wooden door, and a broad man answered, a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

"What's your business, Mideon?" The man asked. The footman, Mideon, wheezed out his reply. "The Dark Lord calls for you and Farooq." The man seemed to think for a second, then lowered his head back down to Mideon. "Alright. We shall be down. Now go." Mideon scurried away as the door closed.

Inside the room, the man went back to the table in the middle where his friend sat, pondering over some playing cards. "Deadman calls." The man said. His friend looked up. "What for?" He questioned. The man shrugged. "Who knows with him. Now let's get going, we don't want to anger him by being late." His friend stood up and both of them walked out the door and to their master's throne room.

~* *~

The castle, known as the Calaway Castle, or the Dark Castle to the city down the mountain, was ruled by one man: The Undertaker. Nobody knows his real name, not even his dark court.

The victorian-esque castle was made of dark brick, with monster-like designs all over. The gates guards were literal gargoyles. No sunlight got through the cursed sky over it.

Inside, The Undertaker sat on his throne. A large symbol was hung over it, it looked like a T with an x on the bottom. The throne was black, with purple trim and a large back. He was dressed in a flowing black robe, the hood covering his eyes.

Beside him, was a littler version of his throne, but in it sat a woman. She was dressed in a simple dress, all black, it hugged her upper body and flowed out a little at her waist. No skin was shown, her neck, arms, and legs were all covered by the dress. She wore a head necklace with the same symbol above the man beside her.

The woman was strikingly beautiful, her (E/C) eyes were soft, full of love and life. Her (H/C) was french braided and flowed down her shoulder, just stopping at the middle of her chest. She stood out, she looked like she didn't belong in this dark castle.

The doors to the throne room opened, catching the dark pair's attention. The men Mideon called for walked through, chests tattooed with three strange symbols each. They walked up to The Undertaker's throne and kneeled. "You called us, Master. What is your desire?" They asked unison.

Undertaker took off his hood, looking down at his muscle men with striking green eyes. "Ah, Bradshaw, Farooq. Take my fiancé to her chambers. The day of the ceremony has come upon us." He gestured to the woman beside him, who smiled sweetly. "Yes, Master." The pair replied.

The woman got up off her throne, kissed Undertaker on the cheek, and went down to meet the men. They continued to kneel. "Get up, please." She asked. Both men stood up. "Follow me." She walked out of the throne room, Farooq and Bradshaw on either side of her. Undertaker sighed and looked to his left, where a squat, round man stood, reading through a book. "Paul, the time is now. Prepare for the ceremony." The squat man, Paul, looked up from his book. "As you wish, my lord." He replied and scurried off through the throne room doors, leaving Undertaker alone to think about tonight.

~* *~

The three walked down the castle corridors, bootsteps sounding on the floor. The woman was barefoot, the cool stone tickled her feet as she walked.

Farooq and Bradshaw stopped at an elegent looking door, with the same strange symbol burned into the door. They positioned themselves on either side of the door, then opened it for the woman. She smiled sweetly and padded inside.

Inside, three identical figures stood, robes and masks covering identifying features of them. "Welcome, Lady (Y/N)." They bowed simultaneously. Their voices were the same, very robotic and neutral.

The three straightened and stared straight ahead at nothing. "The Master has instructed us to prepare you for your ceremony tonight." Setting the creepiness aside, Lady (Y/N) smiled at them and bowed a little. "Thank you. You may start whatever you have to do." She straightened her head and the left-most one approached her.

The two figures stood as the first one stripped Lady (Y/N) of her dress and undergarments. A blush found its way to her cheeks as she stood naked, awaiting the next instruction of the figures. "There is no reason to be embarrassed, Lady (Y/N). Now, follow us to the bathroom." The figures walked to the door leading to the connected bathroom and walked inside, Lady (Y/N) following in tow.

The bathroom was exquisite, marble tile on the walls and floors. A huge bathtub sat in the middle, with a sink and shower on either side of it. One of the figures had started the water, and another was laying out materials on the little table beside the tub.

The figure that had taken Lady (Y/N)'s clothes stood beside her and gently guided her to the side of tub. A bath bomb had already been placed in the tub, turning the water a baby pink. The sweet smell of strawberries wafted from the water.

Lady (Y/N) stepped in the water and sunk down in the warm liquid. The figures gathered soap and one of them started gently pouring water on her head, wetting her hair. They poured a generous amount of shampoo on her head and massaged it in. Lady (Y/N) closed her eyes and enjoyed the experience.

The shampoo was washed out of her hair, and the figure repeated the process with conditioner and a leave-in hair mask. Another had begin washing her body, taking a soaped up loofah and rubbing it all over her body. The last one picked up some shaving cream and a razor and waited for the other figures to finish what they were doing.

The two figures stopped, and the one at her head wrapped her hair in a towel, while the other guided her out of the bath and on the side of the tub. They towel dried her body and the last one began their work.

They placed shaving cream up her legs, on her pelvis and underarms. Then they got to work, placing the razor on the bottom of her legs and working up. The others prepared the vanity with other tools for pampering. Lady (Y/N) looked away from the figure shaving her and fixated her attention to the ones preparing the vanity.

The one shaving was gentle, using long and careful strokes upward, careful not to knick her. After all, she had to be perfect for their Master.

Eventually, they had finished up and rinsed off Lady (Y/N)'s body. They wrapped her in a fluffy towel and led her to the vanity, where the other two were waiting. She sat down and they got to work.

One placed wax strips along her eyebrows and upper lip. It was painful taking them off, but they soothed the areas with cooling aloe gel. The other took her hair out of the towel and picked up a blow dryer and dried her hair.

After that, her hair was lightly curled, and part of it was pulled back and braided. The other began putting on very light makeup. Sheer foundation, little concealer, and a smokey eye look to make it pop. A light blush and highlighter was applied, and to top it off, a nude lipstick.

One of them had placed your head necklace with the symbol on the end back on her head, and her time at the vanity was complete.

The three had led her back to her room, and on the large bed sat a beautiful black victorian dress, with purple accents and a veil to boot. A gasp escaped Lady (Y/N)'s mouth as she laid her eyes on the dress. It had long sleeves that came off the chest piece, and it was designed to reveal her shoulders and neck.

She didn't notice one of the figures had disappeared, but they came back holding a neat pile of clothes. "The Master asks that you wear this under your dress." They held out the pile and she got a good look at it. It was a deep red corset lingerie set. Lady (Y/N)'s face grew pink and she began to stammer a bit.

"Please, do not be ebarrassed. It is for the consumation of your marriage tonight." The one holding the set said. Lady (Y/N) took a deep breath and composed herself. "Ok, please continue." She replied. They figures got to work dressing her.

The corset set was put on first, with thigh high sheer stockings, garter bands to hold them up, panties and lastly the corset itself. The figure tied it to make it easy to untie. The others had gathered the dress and accessories and patiently waited for the lingerie to go on.

After they had finished with the corset, the other two swooped in and dressed her. The dress perfectly fit Lady (Y/N). Black flats were put on her feet, the veil on her head, and she was handed a black and red bouquet of roses.

The figures stepped back and looked at their work. Lady (Y/N) was very beautiful, and now ready for the ceremony tonight. The figures lined back up to their original place when she first entered the room and bowed. "Our work is now complete. You may leave."

Lady (Y/N) stood frozen for a second, taking this moment in. She was getting married and turned tonight. She had never dreamed of this happening in her life, but here she is, standing in her wedding dress about to get married. Tears wanted to reach her eyes, but she regained her calm composure and walked to the door that leads to the hall. She knocked lightly and Bradshaw opened it.

She stepped out, and the the two men stepped on either side of her again, although this time black bowties were around their broad necks. They looked silly, and she giggled a bit before the two men lead her down the hall.

They walked for while, and thoughts swarmed Lady (Y/N)'s head. Positive and negative clashed, but soon those thoughts washed away as she realized Farooq and Bradshaw were opening the door to the ceremony hall. Creatures of the night sat in the darkness, the only thing seen were the red dots of eyes.

A path was illuminated that led to a platform, and standing on that platform was her fiancé, dressed in a more elegant robe than before. On a higher platform stood Paul Bearer, holding a decorated book with a language on the front she couldn't read.

Eerie music started up, and Bradshaw nudged the small of her back as a signal to start walking.

Lady (Y/N) walked up the path, the lights disappearing behind her as she walked forward. When she reached the platform where the Lord of Darkness stood, the music stopped and the only lights that were left were the ones illuminating the couple and Paul.

Paul cleared his throat and spoke up. "Before we start this ceremony today, the Lord of Darkness wants to clear up some overdue business." He gestured to Undertaker.

The man in question held up his head and looked down upon Lady (Y/N), and with one gentle hand he caressed his soon-to-be wife's cheek. "I understand you wish to become a vampire like me, correct?" He asked. Lady (Y/N) nodded. "Yes, my Lord. I want to live forever with my love by my side." Undertaker smirked, showing a bit of fang.

"Very well, my love." He replied. He took his hand off her cheek and lifted up the arm of his robe, exposing his wrist.

"This will be painful for you. Are you sure you want to continue?" He asked. Lady (Y/N) had a determined look in her eye. "I do." She replied. Undertaker closed his eyes. He said nothing, and his green eyes opened again.

Undertaker opened his mouth, revealing long and sharp fangs, and bringing his wrist up to his mouth, he knicked a wound open. "Drink, my love. Let the blood of a vampire king flow through you!" He brought his wrist up to Lady (Y/N)'s mouth and she hesitantly started to drink.

After a while os silenced drinking, Lady (Y/N)'s knees buckled under her and she dropped to the floor, shivering in pain. Undertaker dropped down next to her and held her as her body changed. "Begin the ceremony, Paul!" He shouted. Paul snapped out of his personal tranced and held the book up to his face.

"Dearly unbeloved, we gather here this evening to join Lady (Y/N) and the unholy wedlock with the Lord of Darkness. Tonight, Lady (Y/N) will step from the light from this evil, cesspool, mortal world, into the sanctuary of eternal darkness. Keeping this in mind, will you, Lady (Y/N), accept the purity of evil, and take the Lord of Darkness as your Master and your spouse?"

Lady (Y/N) still shook in immense pain, and muffling a scream, she weakly let out an "I do". Undertaker rubbed her back gently, and Paul continued.

"Lord of Darkness, with it as your intent, do you accept Lady (Y/N), her body, her mind, her soul, and even her breath unto yourself, and allow her to bear your offspring?"

Undertaker's ears pricked at the 'bear your offspring' part, but her gripped his soon-to-be wife closer and answered. "I do." Paul continued again.

"Through the power vested in me by the Lord of Darkness, I now pronounce you as the unholy union of Darkness. You may now bite your bride!"

Lady (Y/N)'s eyes snapped open, revealing deep red irises and a cat eye pupil. The pair stood up, and moving Lady (Y/N)'s hair out of the way, he bit her neck, but didnt drink. He withdrew, and moved his hair out of the way for his new wife to bite.

She saw his skin and bit, but the urges inside her told her not to drink, and she withdrew just like her new husband had done. Mate bites. They were now bound together by marriage and by the bond of mates.

The pair looked each other in the eyes, the feeling of love strong in the room. Undertaker lifted his hand and cupped his now wife's cheek, and leaned in. Lady (Y/N) followed his actions and leaned in too, and they kissed passionately, so full of love, and now stronger with the bond.

[angstyaches]

my fatal flaw is loving fluff more than whump, but i love whumpy nightmare scenarios…? so…what about charlie having a bad nightmare again, either due to being sick or resulting in getting sick, and being so distressed that he has to call shayne? the reverse scenario (shayne calling charlie) would also be so good but i feel like he’d be more hesitant to do that 🤧 i’m imagining lots of shaking and shaky breathing and self-loathing remedied just a little with some physical comfort? like being held idk. ANYWAY this is my request hehe

I spent ages trying to figure out a scenario where Charlie could call Shayne and Shayne could actually get to him, but when they’re apart, it’s hard for Shayne to spontaneously decide to go to Charlie’s. I could have swapped Shayne in for the sickie but I wanted to do Charlie. Sooo, the comfort is mostly verbal, although Charlie recalls physical comfort from the past. I'm sorry if it's not what you had in mind! Feel free to request more nightmare whump anytime, because I adore it.

The events of this fic are referenced (sorry for the first-person POV lol I was trying something out when I started this blog)

CW: nightmare, emeto, crying, anxiety, brief referenced past violence and blood.

___

It was the middle of the night, and the only thing Charlie could hear was the sound of the toilet tank refilling. That, and the tiny gasps that escaped him every now and then as he tried to catch his breath.

His stomach muscles were practically on fire from clenching, and he was still getting his breath back as he leaned against the side of the bath and held his phone to his ear.

The light bounced against the tiles and burned his eyes, but it was better than the dark. The dark had sprouted wings in his dream, along with a set of claws.

Charlie gasped and shook his head, burying it quickly between his knees and trying to get the image out of his head. His spine felt like his skin was crawling all over it.

“Charlie?”

His heart felt like it was going to slip up his throat at the sound of Shayne’s voice on the phone. He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself from whimpering with sheer relief. He hadn’t quite acknowledged it, but part of him had been terrified that Shayne wouldn’t answer the phone at all.

He’s okay…

“H-hey.” Charlie cringed at how badly his voice was shaking, and it echoed against the empty bathroom shelves just like his retching and coughing had done a few minutes ago. “I’m – I’m sorry.”

“Hmm? What’re you sorry for?” Shayne mumbled on the other end of the phone.

“You were probably sleeping, I – I just…” Charlie rubbed at his eyes, desperate to get them dry. Nausea was still trickling lightly through his stomach, and he wondered if he’d have to rush back to the toilet bowl sometime soon.

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I got sick…” Charlie pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead against his bare knees. His voice almost disappeared completely down his throat. “I… don’t feel well.”

“Shit. I thought you were finished with all that.”

It took Charlie a moment to realise that Shayne was referring to the food poisoning Charlie had accidentally given himself (and Rin) the day before yesterday.

He swallowed thickly, pulling a face at the memory. He’d felt so much better before going to bed; in fact, he’d been starving, his body feeling hollow and achy after purging itself for a day and a half. He’d cooked an entire bag of chicken nuggets from the freezer, made himself four slices of toast, finished off a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, and had gone to bed feeling blissfully better.

He struggled to find a way to gently tell Shayne that the problem that had woken him at 4am had less to do with his stomach and more to do with his brain.

Although the amount of heavy food in his belly admittedly may have contributed somewhat.

“Charlie, you okay?”

He started a bit, realising he hadn’t replied in a while. “I’m – no. Not really,” he whispered, a sharp sob jerking his ribs and scraping at his throat.

“Put me on the, um, the video thing.”

The phone jingled beside Charlie’s ear, telling him that Shayne was requesting a video call. Charlie made an attempt to clean his face off with his pyjama top before accepting it, propping the bottom of his phone against his knee.

“You know, you sound sixty when you call it ‘the video thing’,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.

“Really?” Shayne narrowed his eyes into a glare as soon as he appeared on Charlie’s screen. “Would you say that to my face if it was actually this close to you?”

Charlie managed a weak smile. Some of the tension bled out of him just at the sight of his boyfriend and his sleepy brown eyes. His chin wobbled uncontrollably as emotions swelled in his belly and chest. “I wish it was this close to me.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Shayne folded one arm behind his head and leaned back against his pillow. His room was mostly dark, but he seemed to be lying on his back. “Wait, are you real-crying? Not just throwing-up-crying?”

Charlie sighed shakily, rushing to rub away the tears that had sneaked up on him. He felt his lips quiver as he tried to keep the smile from turning into a grimace.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

Charlie gulped and nodded. “How could you tell?”

“Give me some credit. I feel like I know you pretty well by now.”

Charlie’s eyes were drawn towards the shrunken image of himself in the top-right corner of the screen, and tried to hold back even more tears. In his own – admittedly warped – opinion, he looked about as disgusting as he felt. He hated that he felt trapped in front of the camera, forcing Shayne to look at him in this state.

“Charlie,” Shayne murmured, his eyes softening in the light of his bedside lamp. “Talk to me, yeah?”

“They’re get – they’re getting worse,” Charlie breathed, burying his face in one hand. It felt a little silly to keep his phone held steady in the other, camera trained on himself even as he covered his eyes and wept, but he didn’t want to cast Shayne aside either. He peered out over the top of his hand, still covering his mouth to try to keep the volume under control.

“I know, but they’re just dreams, remember? They’re not real.”

A gag pulled at Charlie’s throat and he had to shut his eyes. But it was real…

“Deep breaths,” Shayne said, his tone in complete contrast to Charlie’s sobs. “You want to count back from ten with me? Sometimes I need some help. I can get to nine, and then I just get confused.”

Charlie almost laughed through the tears. He wondered if he should have been insulted by Shayne’s attempt to use Charlie’s own method on him. He decided to humour him though, rasping out numbers while thinking that it would never work because he was thinking too hard about it, but by the time they got to zero, he was able to take a breath without his chest hitching.

Shayne said nothing for a few seconds, watching to see what Charlie would do next. He frowned when Charlie shuddered harshly, making the picture wobble.

“You cold?”

Charlie nodded.

“Then go get into bed, idiot.”

He did his best to keep his phone elevated as he walked, but in his exhausted state, Charlie probably gave Shayne a prime view of the stubble under his chin as he made his way back to bed. He shakily propped his phone on the nightstand, next to Vincent the teddy bear, and went to grab a fresh t-shirt from the drawer. He’d sweat through the one he’d fallen asleep in, ruining it even before it had vomit and tears on it.

He finally crawled into bed, his stomach letting out a hollow, unhappy groan as it settled into the new position. Charlie groaned too, reaching out to take his phone in his hand again. He hated how the bedside light made his face look haggard and washed-out.

“All good?” Shayne asked.

“All good,” Charlie slurred, his eyes drooping already. “I miss you, though.”

“I miss you too, love.”

Charlie pulled his blanket tightly around himself, keeping one arm outstretched with his phone so that he and Shayne could still see one another. His sheets had cooled down a lot since he’d flung himself out from between them earlier, and after crouching on the tiles for so long, it was nice to be surrounded by something soft and pleasant.

Shayne tilted his head slightly as they both lay in silence for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes through their cameras. “How’s the nausea?”

“A little better,” Charlie sighed. “My tummy just kind of hurts.”

Shayne clicked his tongue. “Fuck. I wish I was there with you right now.”

“No.” Although his chest panged with longing for the same thing, Charlie shook his head. “You’re better – you’re safer there, and I don’t –”

The whoosh of dark, leathery wings in the night and the splatter across the hardwood flashed in Charlie’s memory. In the dream, the blood had been Shayne’s; Charlie had watched as Watson had torn his heart right out of his chest before dragging the rest of him away into the sky.

In reality, the blood had been mostly Charlie’s; he’d cut his hands on the broken glass left behind by Watson’s exit through the window.

“Lately, I just…” Charlie swallowed sickly. “I can’t stop thinking about that – that night, remember? When Watson came to my room to find you?”

Shayne fell silent for a moment, seemed to shift position slightly. “Mmhmm.”

“I was dreaming about – about that, but… worse.”

“He won’t come for you,” Shayne said. He seemed like he was gritting his teeth. “If he or Madelyn even try to get near that house, they’ll –”

“I know.” Charlie chewed the inside of his lip. He ducked his face below the blanket and quickly dabbed at fresh tears that were starting to form. “But I was so… I was so useless, Shayne, I knew I could have stopped him, but I didn’t, I was frozen solid, I –”

“Ssshhh…” Shayne whispered, the sound crackling gently through the phone’s speaker. “Charlie, love, come out.”

Teeth chattering in his head, Charlie sniffled from under the blanket.

“Please, I want to see you.”

When he crinkled the blanket into his fingers and revealed just the top half of his face to the camera again, Charlie wished he hadn’t gone into detail about the dream at all. Not only did he look like a mess, now he sounded like one, too. He felt himself blush when Shayne’s eyes lit up on the screen, realising Charlie had come out from behind the blanket.

“You know what I think of when I think of that night?”

Charlie swallowed thickly, shaking his head.

“I think about the way you let me fall asleep on your bed, even though I was being an asshole to you.”

He couldn’t help nuzzling his head against the pillow where Shayne’s head had been that night, while Charlie had sat lengthways with Shayne’s legs across his lap. He’d had crazy butterflies in his stomach, barely able to believe that his crush had shown up in the middle of the night, unconsciously looking for comfort from him.

“It was the first night we fell asleep together, too,” Shayne said.

Without realising it, Charlie had slid one hand around the side of his own neck, fingers running lightly through the hair at the back of his head. Shayne had never touched him before that night either, but he’d ran his fingers through his hair as though he’d been doing it for years. Light shivers of pleasure trickled over Charlie’s skin. The panicked pounding in his chest was starting to slow. “That’s true...”

“You’re anything but useless,” Shayne murmured, turning onto his side and adjusting the angle of his phone. His eyes were starting to close. “I think that’s what my point was. I forgot.”

Charlie gave a light, breathy laugh which was cut off by a deep yawn. He hid his face from the camera again, to avoid giving Shayne a view of his tonsils this time. By the time he looked at the screen again, Shayne was struggling to keep his eyes open, but neither of them said anything.

They never found out whose phone dropped out of whose hand first.

[thiswasinevitableid]

62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you

Sternclay, sfw, please!

Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.

More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?

He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.

“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”

Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”

“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”

“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”

“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”

“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”

“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”

“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”

“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.

“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”

Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”

Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.

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

The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.

“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.

“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”

“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”

Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”

“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”

“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”

He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”

“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”

“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.

“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”

“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”

“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”

“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”

“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”

Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”

“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”

“Did they turn out?”

“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”

“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”

Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.

“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”

The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.

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

Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?

His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.

That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.

“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”

Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.

“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”

“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”

“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”

“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.

He could get used to this.

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

“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”

“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”

“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.

Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.

Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.

He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.

They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”

“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.

“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.

“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”

It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.

“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”

“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”

“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”

Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”

“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.

“I wanted to.”

His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”

“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”

“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”

This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.

“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”

“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.

Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”

“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”

“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”

[ladynestaarcheron]

“Fae fertility cycles had never been something I’d considered, and explaining them to Nesta and Elain had been uncomfortable, to say the least.

Nesta had only stared at me in that unblinking, cold way. Elain had blushed, muttering about the impropriety of such things.” A Court of Frost and Starlight, page 45.

So…Elain doesn’t want to talk about periods. Where ever did Feyre, a girl who lost her mother when she was eight, learn about hers? I wonder...and thus this was born.

---

Nesta's loved stories all her life, but she doesn't think she'll ever be able to write one, because whenever she tries to in her head, this is what she comes up with: Once upon a time there were three beautiful princesses who lived in a beautiful castle. Then their mother died and their father lost all their money and they had to move into a rundown little cottage on the edge of town. The end.

Sometimes, when the night is quiet and she has time to think, she puts a bit more effort into it. Swaps the beautiful for different adjectives that fit each of the three of them in turn (clever, kind, creative, when she is feeling generous, cold, silly, and hopeless when she is less so), and describes the castle in more detail. Carved from the earth itself is a phrase she rather likes, although she's not sure it would make for a pretty home and it definitely isn't true, anyway.

Tonight is particularly quiet, because Elain has been asleep for hours and Feyre still has not come to bed, so Nesta takes her time in her mind to write something that might be worthy of putting to paper one day. Perhaps it's time she comes up with a different beginning than once upon a time...

Nesta's internal narration, however, is sharply cut off with a crash and a stumble. Elain stirs slightly next to her, but does not wake.

"For goodness' sake," she hisses, sitting upright. "What on earth are you making all that racket--"

Her castigating falters when she catches sight of her youngest sister's face. The moonlight spilling in the room catches on the silver in Feyre's eyes, the tears streaming down her face. She's shaking.

Nesta pushes the blanket off of her and crawls out of bed to meet her. "What is it?" she asks, tightening the tie of Feyre's nightgown. She's not quite sure what to do. If Feyre cries about their mother or their, well, life, she does it to Elain or Father, and only when Nesta cannot see. And Elain always goes to Father, so it's been quite some time since Nesta's had to comfort anyone but herself.

"I think I'm dying," Feyre whispers, voice cracking, and Nesta's heart lurches. Typhus? Like their mother? Oh, and they do not have nearly the same amount they had when Mother was sick; what medicines will they be able to afford? Because so much of it was spent on Father's leg--not that he's ever attempted to earn any of it back, of course, and now it's twelve-year-old Feyre who'll have to suffer for it.

Still. Best not to scare the child any further.

"What do you mean?" Nesta says, making her voice calm.

"I have a terrible headache," Feyre says, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, "and the worst stomach pains of my life and my back, too--"

Nesta's breath stops in her lungs. All the symptoms of typhus Mother had, except for the rash. All the forgotten gods. What are they going to do? Should she wake Elain and Father for this? She should, shouldn't she? But what good will that do? Are they all to sit by Feyre's side and wait for her to die?

"--and I'm bleeding."

Nesta blinks at that. Mother had had a cough, sometimes, but very dry; no blood at all. "You're bleeding?"

Feyre can't answer vocally. She only nods.

Nesta gives her a once over. She doesn't see any blood. "Did you fall?" she asks, puzzled. "Where is the blood?"

The room is too dark to tell, but Nesta thinks Feyre's cheeks flush. "I didn't fall...it's--I'm--it's under my nightgown."

"Well, sit down and lift it up, so I may have a look."

"No," Feyre says, clutching herself tighter still. "It's...you won't know what to do. You cannot...it's between my legs," she blurts out, and clenches her hands into fists as she tries to control her sobs.

Relief crashes over Nesta, as violently as the grief of her mother's death. Along with a bit of guilt--she had not realized she should warn Feyre about cycles. Elain had merely come to her one day, red-faced and squeaking about where Nesta kept the linens, and she had shown her. But she had known about it all--well, Nesta is not quite sure Elain is very well aware of sex, but at any rate...

"You're not going to die, Feyre," she says, awkwardly patting her sister on the shoulder. "Come here. I'll draw you a bath."

"You..." Feyre says, sniffling slightly, "you know what to do?"

"I do," she says, and turns so her sister can undress and slip into the tub. They're not going to be able to afford hot water soon, are they? What'll they do then? Boil it in the fireplace? "All right, stay here and calm down. I'm going to get you something to help you settle."

Nesta makes her way to the kitchen, heating up some tea for Feyre and putting a small bit of brandy in as well. Just a little bit, to help her fall asleep. She supposes they'll need to have more poppy and willow bark on hand for pain now, if Feyre'll be having back aches as well as cramps.

Feyre is submerged underneath the water by the time Nesta returns. She hands her the tea and sits on the floor by the bath. "All right," she says, half wishing this had fallen to Elain, half grateful on Feyre's behalf that it is not their silly sister explaining this. "Well. I suppose you have not heard about cycles."

Feyre thinks. "I...suppose not."

Nesta's lips quirk. She should just say it. "You know how pregnancies start."

It is again too dark to be certain, but Feyre reddens, she thinks. "I--I have not--"

"No, no, I know you haven't," Nesta says, vaguely wondering where Feyre has learned about sex. She decides she does not want to know. "At any rate. Before...that, a girl's body needs to be ready. For pregnancy. So every month, the body goes through a cycle. And at the end of the cycle--" or is it the beginning? Nesta can never remember. "--you bleed. And you can feel cramps or back aches or headaches or any of the life...for a few days."

"How many days?" Feyre asks, fingers tightly holding onto the cup.

"Depends. Elain's is three. Mine is five. Sometimes it can be different...especially in the beginning."

"The beginning?"

"Now. For you. Your first few cycles, I mean."

"How many will there be?" she asks.

Nesta shrugs. "I don't know...once every month until you can't bear children any longer. So around..." Feyre is twelve, this should last till she's around fifty... "four hundred fifty, give or take."

Feyre's eyes widen. "Four hundred and fifty?"

"Well, don't think about it that way," Nesta says hastily, realizing how morbid that sounds. "Just...track your months as they come. You'll barely think of it in a year from now."

Feyre sips her tea. "I never knew you and Elain..."

"Well, it's not something you can really tell. It's not like your skin changes color or anything." She adopts a more timid tone. "It's...all right. Really. I'll bring you some stuff for pain tomorrow. And it should get better. Each day is easier than the last, and by the time your grown, it'll probably hurt less, too." Nesta's only fifteen herself, so she's not entirely sure that's true, but it's what Mother told her. "Anyway. Baths help. And they're good to rid the blood...oh. I'll show you how to put on linens..."

After Nesta has wrapped Feyre's under things and crawled back into bed, her mind wanders once again to her story. What if the ending were different this time? Somehow. The mother not dying, perhaps. How would that go? If they were all in the rundown little cottage together?

Before the words have faded from Nesta's mind and sleep claims her, the bathroom door opens once again. Feyre shuffles out and into bed, taking her place on Elain's other side.

"Thank you, Nesta," she whispers, voice soft and still watery from her scare.

"It's okay," she says back, softly. It's not quite a proper reply, is it? But perhaps it's what she needs to hear, anyway.

She'll wake early and rouse Elain, she decides. Tell her to extend some extra kindness to Feyre...and that should be all right. Not a perfect ending. But maybe a little better then what might've been, too.