TW for skin picking

I think I finally found a way to healthily combat my anxious skin picking problem.

I found these star-shaped, hydrocolloid and salicylic acid medicated acne patches. They look like star stickers, but are actually like, zit bandaids. Everytime I get the urge to pick at my skin compulsively I put a star patch on the acne that’s bothering me and it’s working.

Do you actually have insomnia? If yes, then how bad?

Pretty bad. It’s almost impossible for me to fall asleep without medication, even when I’m exhausted. The more exhausted I get, the worse the insomnia gets—almost like I’ve forgotten how to sleep.

I’ve worked pretty hard at my sleep hygiene and bedtime routine, but it’s always been an uphill battle.

My anxiety (mostly social anxiety) is generally under control now, but growing up that was a huge part of my insomnia. As a kid, I would usually lie awake for 2-3 hours, worrying about the future or regretting things I did in the past. I think, unfortunately, getting story ideas or head-canons is just another form of intrusive thoughts. But they are way better than the ones I had before. So, there’s that!

I am also ADHD/autistic (another thing that didn’t get diagnosed until my mid 20s). I’ve sometimes wondered if I have a circadian rhythms that’s shifted slightly outside of the standard norm—which is apparently quite common for folks in that group—since I can usually reliably fall asleep around 2am, provided I’m not massively wound up.

Things that would cause me to be wound up / awake past two regardless of how tired I am: working past 7 (including my volunteer gig), writing in front of a screen (which is partly why most of my drafts are handwritten), extended social interactions such as phone calls or text convos (usually in-person events go better, but not always), baths (alas! they ought to be relaxing), reading The Economist or anything that triggers my anxiety.

I usually use the tag “Ca-Chan can’t sleep” if I’m up past my bedtime (which should be ten, but is usually more like 11/11:30). If it’s an absurd hour, I try to stay off the internet, but honestly it depends—at a certain point I’ll just give up and start doing stuff. I know my body pretty well at this point, and lying in bed for too long causes frustration/anxiety (which keeps me awake). So I may as well try to get something done since I’ll be operating at a loss later in the day (and napping, if I’m lucky).

I also use Freedom, an app that restricts web access, and it regularly turns on at 11 (although admittedly sometimes I cheat and turn it off). I’ve been trying to slowly bump the start time earlier (to 10:30/10) and the end time later (to 8) because I need more time to shift into bedtime mode and also sometimes I just lie in bed futzing around on social media when I need to get up. But when it comes to habit-forming, it’s best not to go cold-turkey. Smaller changes over a long period of time tend to be more productive in the long run.

Anyway, thanks for the ask, Kind Anon! I wish you many nights of full, refreshing and uninterrupted sleep 😴 <4

Billy doesn’t really have a lot of like, vices, anymore. Mostly because any one of them could kill him. His lungs barely work, his liver’s shot, and he’s been strongly advised against any kind of ‘mind altering substances’ because no one knows how all the meds he has to take would react to that being thrown into the ring. 

Mostly though, he misses smoking. 

Probably because he’s addicted and whatever, but that part was already getting better. Ish. 

He really misses the feel of it. The series of motions, the warmth. How he’d feel like he could think better, or at least like all his strings weren't wound to breaking. He misses the smells like the one that clings still to his leather jacket- that he hasn't worn is as much time since he quit- he misses the relief. He doesn't get much relief from anything these days. Not from the constant body aches and migraines and how he still coughs enough that it stings sometimes. 

But it’s fine. He’s fine not smoking. At least now he wont get lung cancer. Probably. Also there's that thing of how if you fall asleep with a smoke lit you could like burn to death in your sleep or whatever. 

Billy doesn’t have the luxury of risking incineration anymore. 

Now most of Billy’s comforts come from owning headphones, getting to wear actual clothes rather than sweatpants and hospital gowns, and seeing Steve. 

Who maybe counts as a vice. Probably. 

Steve’s counted as a vice since Billy first saw him, more so after he apologized, and Steve started acting like he liked Billy around. Still acted like that, even after he un-died in July. 

Steve was kind of Billy’s only friend. Which was as ironic as it was fucked up. 

Not that Steve had many friends to speak of himself. Just that Billy could actually get this close to Steve, and it still was not enough. 

Billy always felt like he was pushing it, too. 

He remembered the first time he begged Steve to smoke for him. Remembered how he actually said ‘please’ which made one of Steve’s eyebrows shoot up because ‘is this like a kink of yours or what’ and ‘no jackass i just can't so i want you to.”

Steve had started hanging out with Billy out of pity. Probably. Billy didn't actually know he just knew Steve was one of the only people that didn't treat Billy like he was made of glass. 

Then they were hanging out all the time. Maybe because of a sort of, mutual recognition kind of thing. 

But here they were on Steve’s couch, Billy asking if Steve had any smokes and yeah he knows he‘s not allowed to smoke them himself he wants Steve to do it. Please. 

Steve has this weird little smile on his lips. Maybe because it’s got to be like, 2am and they’re still up and watching TV and shooting the shit but. 

“Okay.” Steve shrugs, get up to go find a cigarette. 

Billy listens, only a little sleepy, to Steve’s soft footsteps as he leaves the room, comes back with- thank god- a pack of Reds and Billy’s fucking saved but he’s also a little crazed because Steve waves the carton a little and says “I think there’s a light in that drawer if you wanna hand it to me-” “I wanna do it.” Billy says, insistent, when Steve sits back down. 

Steve blinks at him with those sleepy puppy eyes of his, smiles a bit more while saying “Ooookay.” All slow like ‘what are you up to, huh?’

Billy doesn't know what he’s up to really. He’s a little too tired to think that far in advance. All he cares about is digging a lighter out of the coffee table drawer and holding to where Steve’s leaned over the distance between them, cigarette paper pulling ever so subtly at the skin of his lips, waiting for Billy to light. 

Billy does. 

He watches Steve inhale. How his cheeks hollow a little, makes the cherry match the brightness of the TV, how the glow of the TV makes Steve’s cheek bones look like harsh lines under those soft eyes. He catches his end of the cigarette with practiced fingers to pull away from his mouth. Billy feels like he sees the whole thing in slow motion.

He exhales when Steve does, even though Steve turns his head a little, the smoke blows away from Billy. 

“This doing it for you, weirdo?” Steve laughs a little, Billy realizes how close they are, how intently he’s been staring. 

“You try quitting cold turkey.” Is Billy's comeback. 

“No thanks.” Steve says, only half genuine. “I like my bad habits. Only got a couple.” He takes another drag. A shortish one. And when a couple seconds ago this was helping, suddenly it’s not nearly enough. Steve’s not pulling hard enough. And he keeps blowing the smoke away from Billy, like the polite son of a gun he is, which means Billy can only sort of of smell it- the scent that takes him back to before he was a corpse, before he spent all his time at doctors appointments- a time when the guy crowned in smoke before him was all he fucking thought about. 

If Billy wanted to try to think why he was doing this, he wouldn't like the answer. 

Steve’s fingers looked so natural, parted so gracefully Billy didn't even really realize he was touching them until he already had, letting his own finger’s slide up the back of Steve’s hand, over his knuckles, to pluck the cigarette from between his slender pale fingers into Billy's own. 

Steve watches Billy do it, makes no move to stop him. In fact, when Billy lifts his hand, Steve leans forward to smoke from it without even being asked. 

Billy watches, the same process of the bright cherry, hollow cheeks, Steve’s eyes lower to track Billy's hand, his eyelashes dark against his skin. Steve’s face is warm where Billy's hand touches it. 

Steve doesn't exhale fully this time, just drops his mouth open a little like you do for blowing smoke rings and lets the smoke drift out of it. Billy watches as the opaqueness dissipates- he can see the pink of Steve’s tongue. 

Steve’s eyes flick up to look into Billy‘s, then immediately away again. 

Billy realizes their legs are touching. It’s so late, nothing real can even happen at 2am. 

“Did I ever tell you how much I like it when you come over?” Steve says, low, not making any effort to pull his eyes up again.

Billy’s so close. Closer than he’s been to anyone in a while in terms of physical distance. In any terms really. 

Steve’s breath smells like smoke. 

That's probably why Billy kisses him.

But to be fair, he only leans in to breathe Steve's air, from right in front of his lips, and it’s Steve that kisses him. 

Tips his chin forward so he can get to Billy’s bottom lip, and then it‘s an honest to god kiss, and Billy can taste his favorite Marlboro Reds on this pretty boy's lips- that's enough. That scratches the goddamn unscratchable itch.

Billy feels like whatever he thinks he needs. Or wants. Steve anticipates it. 

And what now?

“Still seems like a kink.” Steve mumbles, smile fighting for a right to occupy his expression. 

“Shut up, man.” Billy feels his face going red, however unreal 2am is.

“Make me.” 

The cigarette- which ends up lying half smoked in an ashtray- burns itself out. There’d be others.

Lunchbox lovers request:

So I would love to see a sit down talk between yoongi and mc. Just so like mc can sort her feelings out about everything, and like get advice about forgiving Kook. Idk, I just want those two to have a chat between besties.

-🐞

cold senior!y/n x stem major koo masterlist :D

yoongi will be on y/n’s team — always

“what do you want for dinner?”

yoongi had the best afternoon nap anyone could ever possibly have

it was a mid-afternoon nap actually and something about it just hit different this time

there’s days when it’s extremely warm y’know? not hot, but like uncomfortably warm

it was that uncomfortably warm afternoon when everyone’s collectively feeling sleepy?? turn the airconditioning on to its coolest and sleep without a shirt on and be surrounded by a pillow on both sides......?

yeah that afternoon nap awhile ago really put yoongi on a happy mood

he’s not asking what you want for dinner because he slept good :D

excellent afternoon naps aren’t the only things that make him this way!! lol you could also count days when he receives a random gift out of nowhere and the days when you replace the toothpaste instead of him

but really, whether or not he gets these instances, he genuinely just asks you what you want for dinner so he could either cook it or order it

“what do you want for dinner?” yoongi nudges you from your spot on the couch, about to invade your personal space again and lie down on your lap before you get to cooking

you only hum in response, your best attempt at returning his affection coming in the form of tussling his hair

“we already have dinner, yoongs.”

omg that’s nice then

“you already cooked dinner? even while i was still asleep? wow, look at you,” he praises you abundantly, attempting to pinch your nose when you dodge him

.... that’s the thing though

yoongi watches you visibly freeze when you were doing anything in the first place besides watch your show in a still position

“i didn’t.”

oh

if your dorm was already silent, it became even mORE silent now

if you didn’t cook, then that means-

“jungkook brought dinner.”

yoongi finishes for you and it’s the far worse equivalent of two mothers bringing their own turkeys for thanksgiving

the show you’ve been rewatching is white noise at this point that you can’t recognize anything in this room besides yoongi

it’s been two weeks

that’s literally half a month

two weeks ever since jungkook’s been pouring active effort into working for your forgiveness and normalcy with him out of his own volition

alright maybe you’ll just focus on the gray streaks in yoongi’s new hair <3

and maybe he’ll just focus on the blue stain on your pink pajamas because he put them in the same load when they were newly-purchased <3

yeah but no you can’t do this forever

he can’t do this forever

you and yoongi can’t do this forever

the two of you can’t keep dancing around each other whenever the mention of jungkook pops up because the two of you have two dRASTICALLY different perspectives

right now, yoongi’s just awkwardly laying on your lap and he’s can’t even look up ay the ceiling

“do you wanna talk about it now?”

you end up caving by asking him first, a sigh of relief from holding it in which makes him relieved because he didn’t want to initiate that

“yeah, let’s talk,” he pulls himself up and he’s now looking at you with much embarrassment, “can we even have this conversation while completely sober?”

yoongi’s really rEALLY looking for a distraction to help ease this discomfort in his chest

okay you get where he’s coming from

“you mean you wanna share a joint with me while we have a long-overdue conversation?”

you chuckle at the mental image of yoongi seeing literal stars and freaking out about it, probably crying while he chats to you

“mhmmm. would probably calm our nerves. o-or maybe just mine, atleast.”

to be honest, he doesn’t even have quite a clue on wHY he’s nervous!! it’s the two of you and you’ve always been comfy with each other

that’s the whole foundation of your friendship — you’re fully comfortable with each other and the two of you find it difficult to be this comfy with anyone else

if he really delves deeper into it though, yoongi would know that the reason he’s so nervous for this conversation with you is because he doesn’t want to fight with you

you’d only have occasional tiffs and arguments ever once in a while, but never a fight!!

he’s not assuming that your conversation would turn into a fight, but that possibility scares him still because what if he loses you?

:(((

and if the two of you do fight, it would be over a junior named jungkook who broke your heart and probably insulted you to your core

he doesn’t want to romanticize it either, but if the two of you do fight, yoongi would want it to be something entirely else

he’s willing to have a fight about being messy and how it frustrates you so much

he’d pick a fight over his clingy habits and how it sometimes makes you feel insecure

he’d pick a fight over how he wants to be your number one best friend so bad that it’s beyond unhealthy he’s making it a competition

he’d want a fight over him being a lil insecure of seokjin at times because the two of you get along so well and know much mORE things than he ever could and he can’t always be included in the inside jokes

what yoongi doesn’t want is to fight over jungkook.

“that sounds nice,” you agree because maybe you too are feeling a little antsy, “but we could do that after.”

he nods, his hands curled to his lap that he only meets your eyes now

“okay.”

oh my god

what now

everything’s put out of the way and it’s now the part when you actually tALK

“are you mad at me?”

you take the first approach and it’s already heavy right from the start, the question weighing especially hard in your mind the past few weeks

“what? no. i could never be mad at you,” he answers just as quick and precise, “i’m mad at him.”

“and i understand that.”

you really do know where yoongi’s coming from because after all, you’re the receiving end of all of jungkook’s words at the time

but that’s the thing!!!

that’s tHEE thing that bothers yoongi the most

you have this feeling of guilt because you feel like you’re betraying yoongi in a way

“then why are you letting jungkook in again?”

it’s as if it’s a double-edged sword and merely entertaining jungkook would be a stab in the back to yoongi, even if you don’t owe him anything

“because i understand him too.”

yoongi deadpans at that, a tired sigh falling instinctively from his lips but his mind’s more awake now

“god, seriously?” he shakes his head and outstretches his hands to hold your shoulders in place. “y/n you are the most lovable person i know. you believe him when he told you otherwise-“

“i-i know it isn’t true. it’s not true when it comes from jungkook.”

your voice wavers but it’s not the only thing that’s coming in waves, your resolve blurring even more when you see yoongi fighting back his own tears

“but when it comes from me i-“

“it’s not true either.”

all that yoongi does is take you to his chest the moment your body feels limp with the sigh that escapes you, a knowing body of tears coming next

your parents’ divorce is the furthest thing from fresh but the impact it placed on you renews without warning, the thoughts coming in waves

they were sure to reiterate over and over again that it wasn’t your fault, but god the way that they never even bothered afterwards made you think otherwise

“i-i just feel like a placemarker and neither of them came back for me, y’know? don’t get me wrong, i love my aunt to pieces and she’s family and-“

your faint sobs rack your ribs and yoongi can feel them, a relief that your face is buried to his shoulder so that you wouldn’t see him cry

“jin and i are your family too.”

they are but deep down, you know it’s a whole other ball game

“b-but that’s because you’re unrelated to me. i don’t remind any of you of the other. i’m not your daughter.”

it really wasn’t as harsh as how your words cut out, but it just breaks yoongi’s heart to know how difficult is must have been and is for you

you mumble when you calm down enough, playing with a loose thread on the cardigan you’ve gifted him on his birthday this year

“jungkook didn’t know that sore spot. he couldn’t have, but i’m not defending him either, yoongi.”

you mean it with full sincerity and he’s trying to digest your words as best as he could before his bias gets the best of him

“it’s on him for being horrible to me, but it’s on me for relating what he said to what i felt a long time ago.”

yoongi opens and closes his mouth, but before he does, you’re lifting your head up to interrupt him

god he’s aLSO crying

“use the sleeves to wipe your snot, dumbo. it’s not even that expensive!!” you chuckle when you urge him to do so, making him both frustrated and sheepish because his goddamn snot interrupted you

you lean on his shoulder and stay that way, this time being a rare occurrence in which you cling to him like a koala

“and i know that he shouldn’t have said those things to me either way. i do.”

yoongi nods at that, capturing his point fully

he insists on patting you on the forehead, drawing circles and definitely not a penis as he drawls his words

“he can’t take back what he said, y/n.”

“but that doesn’t mean he can’t redeem himself, yoongs.”

you offer him a timid smile, turning into a bigger one when you know just the right approach to satiate him enough

“jungkook taking accountability is the bare minimum, though,” you chuckle when he nods eagerly to the point he gives himself whiplash, “which is why i’m being smart and haven’t fully forgave him yet.”

…

…..

yoongi sighs when the two of you spend the pause in silence, speaking in all honesty

“i don’t know if i can forgive the little shit.”

“you don’t need to.”

you say just as genuine, a reassuring smile on his face to ease the focused knot on his brows

“you don’t owe it to me, yoongs. i know what you’re thinking.”

you really do

he tends to look at you in high regard even when you tell him that he shouldn’t, and it leads to him with the mindset that he really should appease his best friend at all times

“i eventually will,” he admits quietly. “just not now.”

“that’s okay too.”

it was supposed to be another bout of silence but yoongi actually breaks this time, blurting out words once he felt that the coast was clear

he just needs to get this off his chest before this heart-to-heart moment dwindles

“i don’t want to sound weird, but you’re like, my platonic girlfriend, y’know? my soulmate in a very platonic way, but no one says either that your soulmate has to be in a romantic sense and-…”

you exclaim in relief, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you jolt him by the shoulders

“god, finally. i’ve always wanted to tell you that i feel the same. you’re my soulmate, i’m pretty sure. my very, very platonic boyfriend i live with.”

yoongi sighs, stares, then fiNALLY heartily laughs in relief

everything’s out of the way :)

“we’re good. we always will be.”

you’re about to get up to fulfill yoongi’s suggestion earlier, being cut short when he gently pulls you by your forearm when you stood

“i’ll always be on your team — you know that right?”

yoongi means it with his whole heart, just one more reminder he wants you to reaffirm in your mind for the night

“i’ll always be on yours too, yoongs.”

Cookie Dough

Characters: Mark Renton x reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Mention of drug relapse and overdose, and a little bit of smut. Otherwise fluffyflufffluff.

A/n: Recently been made aware it's the 25th anniversary of the Trainspotting film and suddenly felt like using it as an excuse to write a Renton fic in celebration (I mean, I really like the 5x tables too). I ended up channelling some of my fluffy needs into this

Summary: You and your boyfriend start the weekend by baking together...

It had been a fun few months. Quite the rollercoaster actually. Scary at times, but ultimately fun and providing you an experience you'll never forget.

You went to Scotland for a well deserved extended holiday. A holiday you intended to be as stress-free as possible. 

Your family was quite well off. Not tremendously, but enough for people to assume you were a little too privileged growing up. They didn't know what it was like behind closed doors. 

You were the black sheep in a strict family. That combined with virtually everyone else around you either despising or using you for money, you quickly came to realise your only true friend was loneliness. Over your teenage years especially, a bunch of bad habits were tried out, but none of them ever really helped. 

Finally having enough, you just left. You didn't leave any sort of explanation, it's not like they would care, right? Even though your family were only known within certain circles and the city you grew up in, you decided to cut off a lot of your long locks to help people to not recognise you. It was time for you to attempt to live a normal life away from the people that controlled your life prior. 

In your casual clothing and shorter hair, you had made your way to Scotland - a place your parents never seemed to like. Within the first week, you met a couple girls that ended up bringing you to a group night out with their boyfriends and mates.

~~~

There was a brief introduction. You looked at each man in turn; Spud, Sick boy, Tommy, Begbie, and Rents. They all gave you very different vibes, but you didn't have time to think over them before suddenly Begbie jumped right into telling a story a little too passionately. Not that you were paying much attention. 

The way Mark had looked at you earlier caught your attention. The both of you occasionally looked at Begbie to show you were listening, but you kept looking at each other. The more it happened, the more you wished you were sitting right next to him. Something about the man just drew you to him.

Eventually, after biting your lip during direct eye contact, you made the excuse you needed the toilet and that you'd get another round of drinks on the way back. You acted as though you were desperate to go to help make them think you'd be a short while.

Not too long after you reached the bathroom door, Renton appeared. You made sure the coast was clear enough before the both of you snuck into one of the cubicles. The second the door was locked, the man's large hands were on your face as he pressed a hungry kiss on your lips.

Next thing you knew, one of his hands was gripping your backside tightly, using it to grind into you particularly hard. The feel of his own excitement grinding roughly against you had you hot and desperate. It was you that started the action of getting rid of pants. After that, you had the best few minutes of your life.

You felt amazing and a million times lighter when you left that cubicle and went to go buy that round of drinks for everyone.

~~~

Of course, you ended up spending a lot of time with them while in the country. Growing especially close with Mark Renton. While the meeting between the two of you was dirty in every sense of the word, that sexual tension wasn't on your mind as much as you expected it to be as you got to know the guy. 

You brought each other so much joy, it wasn't long before you realised you were actually falling for him. The pair of you ended up dating. Taking your time, but not too long, you also entered an official relationship. 

The only thing you did want to take your time with was admitting how you truly felt. You couldn't quite explain it, but you wanted to wait until the right moment to say it. Both of you had been through a lot, and those were some serious words. 

The first heartbreak you felt was when Mark relapsed. It felt like you hadn't been quite enough even though you knew these things happened sometimes. 

Throughout it all, though, you stuck with him. Supported him. Renton was aware of just how lucky he was, and he had to fight the urge every day to tell you he loved you, in fear of scaring you off. He felt lucky enough to have you with him still, even after relapsing, and he tried hard to make sure you knew he appreciated that. 

It was when he overdosed that you experienced your biggest heartbreak yet. To almost have lost him hurt you in a way you never had hurt before. When his parents told you they were going to make him quit cold turkey, you agreed with it. You hated to think of the suffering he would go through, but you knew this might be the only way lest he not wake up next time. 

Deciding it was maybe time to try make a start on your own life, you moved down to London, leaving a message with Mark's parents about where you were going in hopes he'd follow suit when he managed to get clean again. 

That's exactly what he did.

Now, you and Mark each had your own comfy apartments and jobs in London. The pressure of your old lives behind you. Naturally it took a little while to get over how things had been left, but you were soon right back where you were before - bringing nothing but pure joy to one another. 

Both of you happened to have the weekend off, so you had decided to spend it at your place. Your week had been particularly stressful, so you felt awful to begin with when you got home on Friday evening. 

Your boyfriend called, quickly saying he was going to be a little longer, but not explaining why. There was already a spare change of clothes for him at your place, so you couldn't help but wonder why he didn't tell you what he was doing.

It wasn't long before there was a knock at your door. Getting up with a sigh, you answered. Only to be greeted immediately by Mark grabbing your face and giving you a quick kiss before wrapping his arms tightly around you like he hadn't seen you in over a month. Your heart and body melted into him.

"I've missed you." He mumbled against your ear.

"We saw each other a couple days ago." Your words muffled against his chest, although you missed him too. Pulling away, the man held your shoulders as he looked at you in forced disbelief.

"Are you saying I'm not allowed to miss you?" He raised a brow. "No." He added with a finger to your lips when he saw you readying to respond. You both knew he wasn't serious. Letting go, he picked up a small bag of stuff off the floor and you closed the door after letting him in.

"What's in the bag?" You questioned as you followed him to the kitchen area. Renton didn't answer straight away as he took one item out at a time. You walked up to see ingredients to what you could only assume would be cookies. "Are you going to make cookies?" You questioned further. Mark turned to face you.

"We're going to make cookies."

"We're going to bake together?" You couldn't help the excited gasp. Baking together was always something you wanted to do with him. It was Mark Renton, so you figured it would be extra fun.

"We are." He, himself, couldn't help his excited smile at seeing how excited you were at the idea. You had seemed down when you opened the door, but that had apparently evaporated. 

Before you could say anything else, he turned around and pulled the last item out of the bag - an apron. Another gasp left you. You had one apron yourself, but seeing he had bought one himself only made the following events that much more exciting. 

The man threw his jacket and shirt off, allowing you a glimpse of his chest before he threw his apron on. Then all of a sudden your own apron was thrown at you, bringing you back to reality. Pulling it over your head, you saw your boyfriend smirking at you before moving to stand behind you and tie your apron. 

With Renton having no idea what to actually do, you took charge. It was when it got the cracking of the eggs that things really started to get fun.

Watching closely to make sure no shell fell into the bowl, you were completely unprepared for what happened once the eggs were in. Suddenly his sticky yolk fingers were on your cheeks and before you could react, he placed a kiss on your lips, chuckling at the stunned look on your face.

"Earth to Y/N, hello?" He teased after a moment, bringing you back to said Earth.

"...You got egg on my face!"

"Is there a problem?" Despite trying hard to keep a straight face, there was a small smile peeking through. You dipped your fingers - clean of course - lightly into the egg before simply wiping them on his face. 

"Not at all." You said, succeeding in keeping a straight face for now as you sorted the ingredients. Mark stared with a mix of confusion and excitement before helping again. Tonight was going to be fun. 

Before long, all the ingredients had been mixed together, and the both of you found yourselves looking down at the cookie dough thinking the exact same thing.

It was you who acted first. You acted as casual as possible as you dipped a single finger in to scoop a little out.

"Wanna try some?" You used the question as a guise, carefully lifting your finger up near his lips. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shrugged and kept it open for your finger. Smiling, you wiped the cookie dough on your finger all over his nose. 

Mark looked genuinely shocked for a moment as you giggled. Almost like a deer in headlights. After a moment, you unable to stop giggling, he started laughing too. 

"I love you!" The words fell out by themselves from his mouth. Now you were the deer in headlights. Your heart pounded and there were butterflies in your stomach. Realising what he had said, your boyfriend stopped laughing and looked around to avoid your shocked look. Then he looked at the bowl of cookie dough. 

Not bothering to hide his intentions, he dipped a finger in to swipe some himself. It took you a second to come back to reality as you saw what he was doing. 

"Wait! N-" You went silent as he smeared it, not only on your nose, but on your entire face. Now it was his turn to laugh as you processed everything that just happened, but suddenly you started to laugh as well.

"I love you too!" You laughed as you smeared the cookie dough from his nose all over his face. 

Neither of you really knew how to react, so you simply dissolved into fits of laughter until you could contain it enough to actually put the dough on a tray then in the oven. You and Mark Renton were smiling blissfully the entire time. 

A new kind of weight had been lifted from your shoulders, and you were completely, absolutely, and undeniably in love.

I wonder how Tobey changed from being a villain to having a relationship with Becky?

Oo I am so glad you asked this anon because I've actually been dying to get into this.

Quick note, I'm not going to be getting too specific on certain events because I'm planning on showing many of them eventually, several in the upcoming story "Everything Changes."

First of all, it's important to note that the question shouldn't so much be "how Tobey went from being a villain to being in a relationship with Becky," it's more of a question of "how Tobey went from bad to good." Becky and Tobey are in a relationship because Becky saw Tobey grow into a better person. Like I realize this is probably what you meant, but I still think it's an important distinction. Tobey didn't go good to be with Becky or WordGirl, he didn't grow as a person so he could be in a relationship or win someone over.

His journey started with making the choice. He had two key moments of making that choice. The first one was after he started to realize the damage he was doing to people, and not just in the sense that he inconvenienced their day or destroyed their property. He started to see how his actions could have a lasting effect, especially on people he cared about (his mom). In this moment, he decided to try to be good. Basically, just test it out, and see if he could do it. In this time he was pretty good about not going on robot rampages, and trying to control himself. But if the wrong thing had happened in this time, he probably would have snapped and quit. The second moment of choice happened months to a year later. Again, I plan to show this in Everything Changes, so I won't get too specific, but basically, Tobey was put into the position where he had to officially make the choice, no more "testing the waters," he either needed to decide to be all in or not. And I gotta say I'm excited to show you guys that moment.

After making the choice it was a matter of, how could he keep making that choice—every day—for the rest of his life. Things like finding other outlets helped, he started building robots for other purposes and finding different ways to express his anger and manage it a little better. But the biggest help he had was from people around him. Partly because they would help him think of better outlets for his previous habits, but also just having people he could go to and be with.  So let's dive into some of these important people, shall we?

Family

His mother—it probably doesn't come as too much of a shock that his mother played a big role in all this. She was one of the major reasons he gave up being a villain and was a key person he could go to when things got hard. She was obviously very supportive of the decision and did whatever she reasonably could to help Tobey quit villainy cold turkey. Even when there was nothing she could do to help him, she was still a good person for him to talk out his emotions with. Who in the world would understand Tobey better than his mother after all.

His stepfather—while his stepfather, and by extension stepsister, didn't come into the picture until a few years after he had quit, he still was pretty helpful when it came to staying good. Tobey's stepfather, Alexander, was a psychologist, and therefore could see what would often spark Tobey's desire for destruction, so when Tobey asked for advice, Alexander had some good potential solutions. The key was that he only gave advice when Tobey asked, Alexander was very good about not overstepping with Tobey, and another benefit of him being a psychologist is it was easier for him to know when to give Tobey some space, and when to say "I'm here if you need anything." He also was a good male role model for Tobey, which the by then teen certainly needed.

His step-sister—Tobey and his stepsister, Charlette (who's name I can't seem to decide on how to spell so please excuse all inconsistencies while I figure that out XD) have a huge age difference, with Charlette being younger by about a decade. Tobey was very nervous when he met her, and once they developed a bond, he became a bit protective of her, something we'll see a bit of in the story "Know Me Not." She was good motivation for him to stay good because he really cared about her, and because she was so much younger, she never really got the chance to see Tobey's crimes, and Tobey wanted to keep it that way. He didn't like the idea of her even knowing that side of him existed, let alone her actually seeing that side of him.

Friends

Because Tobey actually kinda helped Becky get over a major hump in regards to grieving about Bob's sudden disappearance ("I'll let you vent to me about your problem that I don't care about if you let me vent to you about my problem that you don't care about"), Scoops and especially Violet immediately adopted him into their friend group. He helped their friend, during the most painful moment of her life, he was now one of them, whether he liked it or not. Becky was a little hesitant about this with Tobey still being a villain but didn't really fight the decision because she saw where her friends were coming from and did think Tobey had the capability to change. The four ended up being a very close group of friends that still are close to this day, even being the godparents to each others' kids. Because they were so close, they each played a role in helping Tobey stay off villainy.

Becky—Becky was the friend that wouldn't let Tobey get away with anything. If Becky had any problem with Tobey's words or behavior, she called him out on it. Scoops and Violet wouldn't do this, they were more inclined to shrug things off and just say "Oh that's just Tobey being Tobey" and would really only, politely, call him out if he really went out of line. Becky on the other hand called him out for almost everything and was always very blunt about it. Something that Tobey needed, and quite honestly appreciated. There was a time when Becky would cut Tobey some slack for super trivial things, but at one point, Tobey learned that his friends were holding back on calling him out for things, and got very upset. He didn't see how he could become a better person if his friends let him get off scot-free for things he shouldn't be doing. After this, Scoops and Violet called him out more, still very politely, but they could never quite get the guts to say anything when it was trivial. But after this, Becky would even call him out and be blunt about the trivial stuff. He said he didn't want to be off the hook for anything, and boy did Becky listen. And she still follows this rule, and it's something that Tobey really appreciates.

Violet—Violet was actually a pretty good friend to go to when Tobey was mad, partly because he found it pretty much impossible to be mad around Violet. She was too innocent, he couldn't bring himself to show his worst colors when she was around. Tobey is also very pessimistic while Violet is very optimistic, so she was also good to go to in that regard. Violet almost always had a very different perspective to offer Tobey in any situation, no matter how hopeless or negative it seemed to Tobey.

Scoops—I love the friendship dynamic I have between Tobey and Scoops so much. Scoops was the friend that Tobey most often did his "alternate" activities with. Tobey has the urge to go on a destructive rampage? Scoops is finding cans and crap and setting them up for Tobey to take a mini robot to crush. Tobey wants to build a robot but has no inspiration for what to make them for besides crushing buildings? Scoops has a wild and creative brain with ideas. One of their most common activities was video games. Video games were great for Tobey, he could pick violent ones and let out all his anger in a virtual setting with no real-world repercussions. And video games were an activity that Tobey could really only do with Scoops. Violet didn't like most of the games Tobey went for, and Becky was too competitive, something that was not good when Tobey was using them as an outlet for his anger. Scoops however was not competitive, he was just happy to be spending time with his friend. These two became video game enthusiasts and were always very excited when a new game was coming out, and would always buy it as soon as they could and have a sleepover and be up crazy late playing it. They still as adults get together from time to time to play video games, though now it's often family-friendly games so their kids can join the fun too.

The AVA

I've mentioned the Anti-Villain Association before, it's a group founded by Tobey and Dr. Two Brains, meant to be a support group for former villains and criminals trying to be better people. After Tobey officially announced he was giving up villainy, other villains were inspired by Tobey's actions and slowly over the years followed in his footsteps. When Tobey was a teen, after he, Two Brains, Chuck, Butcher, and Granny May had all given up crime, Tobey and his friends would often hang out and eat at Chuck and Butcher's sandwich food truck, which would later become a full-blown restaurant. One day Tobey met his friends there to ask for their advice on something, something he found very hard to deal with because of his past as a villain. About the time they were having this conversation, Two Brains stopped by the food truck to order a grilled cheese, and he, Chuck, and Butcher watched the teens' conversation as it got more and more intense from Tobey's side, eventually ending with Tobey getting frustrated saying "You guys don't understand because you were never villains!" and having to leave to cool off. After Tobey stormed off, Chuck and Butcher noted that while they did each have support, Tobey had a point that sometimes it was hard getting advice from someone who had never been a villain and therefore could never understand where they were coming from. Two Brains didn't really have this problem, since he had his henchmen who had stopped being villains with him, but he could see where the others were coming from. Two Brains then took his sandwich and chased after Tobey, and presented him with the idea that would eventually become the AVA. Two Brains wanted Tobey involved because Tobey inspired all this, he should have the right to help create a group to help other reformed villains in their journey if he wanted to. Tobey agreed and the two created, and both still run the AVA. It was and still is very helpful for all the former villains to work out their issues and talk about things that are often triggering for them, and even get advice if other villains have been in similar situations or have some good ideas.

All these things have helped, and still, continue to help Tobey not go back to villainy. He worked hard to grow, he even took the time to formally apologize to the city for his actions, and do things to help the city to make up for his actions. He went through many moments where he had to stop himself from snapping and potentially just throwing everything he'd worked for away. He's good now, but he's still growing, he still has anger management issues that will get unleashed if something is particularly emotional for him, something you'll see in the next batch for Return to Fair City.  But now he still has all those systems in place and people to help him and bonus: now he has even more people in his life to help him. His in-laws are more people he's close to and can go to. He has more motivation than he ever has to stay good for Theo and Julie. And not just his own children, but also for his goddaughter (Daisy, Scoops, and Violet's daughter), his niece (Emma, Tj and Johnson's daughter), and his nephew (his step sister's newborn son, who I think I named Wyatt...I should probably know that huh?...)

Thank you for the question! It was so fun to answer! I hope you enjoyed this summary of Tobey's journey from a villain to a good person!

smoking

smoke and roses | prologue | pt 1. get well soon | pt 2. smoking

summary: george is glad to have you back. overjoyed in fact. he writes about flowers now. the nightmares are going away. it would all be perfect, if you would stop trying to sneak in cigarettes. 

a/n: it’s nice to be back and making this series again. i missed it a lot, and i’m happy to be revisiting the topic of grief again and what healing can look like. if you liked marry me, i think you’ll like this. let me know what y’all think please. i love feedback :) 

George’s quill danced across the page, a small smile upon his lips. 

you’re back. 

you’re back you’re back you’re back. 

you’re here. 

you’re here. no kisses is fine.

waiting is fine. 

you’re walking.

you’re smiling. 

you’re joking. 

He stopped writing for a moment, sniffing the air out in the garden as you came closer. George frowned at you as you came closer to him. 

He wrote one last line. 

now if you’d stop fucking smoking. 

“You smell terrible, Y/N.”

The scowl you gave him would have made a weaker man wither. “Want to say that in a nicer way?” 

“No, you said you’d stop smoking.” 

“It was my first cigarette in a week and a half! I think I’ve done very well.” 

George however seemed less than impressed. “You’ve just gotten out of the hospital.” 

“Two months ago--” 

“After being in there for a year.” 

It seemed that a stare down was in order, as you refused to break eye contact with the man. 

“I’m doing my best.” 

“It’s a terrible habit.” 

That you couldn’t deny. You’d picked it up in your sixth year, and Fred had picked it up from you.

George had always been the one to scold you for it. He’d ratted out Fred to Molly which had gotten the poor boy into a great deal of trouble. He’d gone to tell your parents and had found that both of them were incredibly avid smokers. 

You’d been punished for smoking before you were 17, and giving cigarettes to your friend. It’d been enough to have you quit for a few years. You’d apologized to Molly and gone cold turkey with Fred. 

Then the war happened. And you’d reckoned that there were worse habits you could pick up to deal with the stress. Fred still snuck off with you every once in a while to light one up. 

George had been less than impressed. 

“Pop a mint, Y/N. And no more smoking here. Mum hates it.” 

Your teeth ground together for a moment before you nodded and popped a mint into your mouth. “’m sorry George.” You sat down next to him and leant your head on his shoulder. “Don’t mean to make you worry.”

Like always, you made it hard to stay mad at you. “Show me you’re sorry by stopping it.” 

With a nod, you reached into your coat pocket and handed him the carton of cigarettes “You can take ‘em then. Won’t be needing them.” 

George stared down at the box with a frown, remembering how unhappy he’d been cleaning out Fred’s room and finding an empty carton of cigarettes. “Terrible habit.” 

“It is.” 

“Stupid thing to do when you’re recovering.” 

His voice lacked any real anger behind it. He spoke a great deal like when he was chiding his siblings on something they ought not do. A gentle voice that still remained stern enough to get a point across. 

“You’re right.” 

“What made you want to smoke anyways?” George reckoned he was undermining his point by pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you. But the smell of roses from your conditioner was quite nice, and it truly was impossible for him to keep you at an arms length. 

Your silence spoke volumes. He glanced down at you with a larger frown. This time his tone was worried. 

“You’ll be cross with me if I tell you.” there was an odd thread in your voice that he couldn’t quite tie to an emotion. 

He used the same tactic he had when he was younger. A joke. “Can’t be that bad can it? Sure I’ve done worse. Surely you remember me and Fred’s exit from Hogwarts.” 

Tears stung your eyes and your chest seemed to tighten up. A rather painful thing now. When you’d been in the hospital your strep throat had turned into pneumonia pretty quickly, which had led to a whole host of other problems. Any tightness in your chest just served as a reminder of that time. 

Really, you’d been quite stupid for smoking. 

“When I got sick it was just three months after the war, you know? Not that long. And I was in there for a year...” your voice trailed off, unsure of what you were really trying to say. “And everything is different now, you know? It feels like everyone’s moved on and I don’t know how or I’ve missed the boat... and I just...” 

Again you fell silent. Truly you felt awful for bringing this up, especially when George was having such a good time adjusting to it all. 

It was almost a year and a half now, and to you it felt like a much shorter time. 

“I’m sad about it all.” your voice fell even more quiet. “And I really miss Freddie.” 

You’d expected to be chided about how silly that all was. What a foolish reason to pick up a bad habit. Instead you found yourself being hugged so tightly you lost your breath for a moment. Tears welled in your eyes as you gently gripped George’s shirt. 

“Why would I be cross about that?” his voice was muffeled against your neck. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal to be sad. I’m sad too.” 

Your eyes burned for a moment. “I thought you’d think it was silly because it’s been so long since it happened.” 

“Eighteen months isn’t long at all, Y/N.” he held you even tighter against him. “We knew him for years. Probably going to keep being sad for a while.” 

When the tears finally began to fall you gripped onto him even tighter. You weren’t even sure what there was to cry about if it was okay to be sad. The tightness in your chest scared you, and resulted into you gripping onto George painfully tight. 

Gently, he rocked you back and forth, allowing his own tears to fall. “Why don’t we go inside and you can lay down. You’re still getting better. A nap will help out.” 

There was a small nod from you. “Can I nap in your room?” Something about being closer to George made the tightness in your chest feel smoothed away. 

“‘Course. I could use a nap too.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

You had fallen asleep incredibly quickly. Immediately asleep as you hit the pillow of Fred’s old bed. 

George’s brow knitted itself together as he watched your breathing even out. Just why would you think he’d be cross with you? 

Some days seemed like everything was back to normal, and other days you seemed close to tears. Perhaps you didn’t notice yet that most everyone else felt the same way too. 

There was quite a loving look on his face as he spoke softly, “Numpty.” 

He tried to write once more and simply found that his words wouldn’t come out right. Hot tears began to escape him, which he simply did his best to wipe away. When he’d smelled the smell of cigarettes as you came towards him before, he’d half expected to have Fred trying to hide behind you, making jokes about what a terrible influence you were and that George shouldn’t be mad at him. 

Then you would laugh and try to push Fred in front of you and say if he was so brave he should be able to resist temptation. 

He’d been so frustrated before when that would happen but now it seemed to be a rather fond memory. 

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring at a crying George.

“Are you sad too, Georgie?” 

He wiped away his tears the best he could and gave you a smile. “Yeah. ‘m sad too.” 

You held out your arms from underneath your blanket. “Need a cuddle?” 

George nodded silently before crawling underneath the blankets and wrapping his arms around you. A rather squished fit seeing as how small the bed was, but you nuzzled into him and any discomfort faded away. “Yeah. A cuddle sounds good.” 

With a hum you closed your eyes. “Do I still smell bad from the smoking?” 

His chest vibrated underneath you as he laughed. “A little. But that won’t be a problem anymore, will it?” 

He was rubbing circles onto your bath as you shook your head. “Nah. Not a problem anymore.” 

George still found himself crying, but still managed to smile up at the ceiling. 

“Good.” 

He needed you healthy, after all. 

George wasn’t sure how he would handle you getting sick again. 

“’ts really good, Y/N.” 

He half expected a response before realizing you were asleep again. 

You weren’t perfect, but he loved you for it. 

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Waiting for the Worms - Run like Hell

Part 21

Turns out, I was so put off by my lack of writing over the last week or so and annoyed at my sickness that I decided to shove through this chapter as well. Took me so much less time to write than usual.

I only have... Two more chapters planned out for this fic and I'm pretty sure that'll be the end of this. Maybe snippets that didn't fit the story line or the likes will come after, but the official end is almost upon us.

CLOSED LIST of the following dedicated readers: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @emjrabbitwolf @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Old habits die hard when you try for cold turkey. Jason and the team knew that for a fact. It's why they ended up switching up miraculouses and patrolling random cities on intervals. It also helped in that it made their existence more world surfacing. Random sightings across a global scale of humanesque animal figures prowling the nights, taking out petty crooks and villains alike. Lurking in shadows and watching the nightlife unfold below them. Guardians to all. One miraculous never appeared with the same figure in one city for more than a few nights, not since Paris. 

No one needed to know it was just their group becoming restless from inactivity. 

For that same reason, it came second nature to switch hands and even travel to collect different kwamis that night for a patrol around the Gotham rooftops. Not a one of them commented on the assassin or little bird that followed them from a mile off. Marinette and Tim had the right to their own restlessness and surely Tim wished to study their team further. To determine how they worked together, their dynamic, their morals. 

Damian had pitched a fit until Mari made him promise to stay home so as to keep his existence unknown to the Bat, allowing him to stay watch over the remaining kwamis for the night. The boy had settled down right away and curled up on the couch with his pocket sized pets.

Occasionally the two behind them would stop a little ways off, the assassin pointing out their figures as they made specific choices or movements and explaining how it worked, how they made the decision, and how to replicate it. The sheer trust she instilled in her bird companion threw them all for a loop, but they refused to question her in this, especially in front of him.

Other times, he stopped her to point out different aspects of the city that had changed or ask an opinion of her. They couldn't help but wonder if the boy knew they all had enhanced senses in this form and knew every word that came from their lips. If he did, he made the choice to allow them to hear, obviously trained enough to keep out of even animal hearing ranges if need be. Otherwise, he thought them far away enough or simply didn't care if they could. Jason hoped he knew, hoped Mari informed the bird and allowed him the choice. It was always a toss up on if she felt the need to be open and honest or to deceive those around her. Normally, Jason could tell, but not quite from this distance.

The comm unit Marinette picked up from Babs picked up halfway through their night, "B's in your route," Oracle informed.

"Any chance you can derail him?" Mari asked, as Jason turned to stare back at the twitching form of Robin. Nothing else gave him away, the face emotionless and stance as relaxed as a vigilantes could afford, except the slight twitch at the words being spoke into the two's ears.

"Not a chance. He's caught sight of a curly tailed figure in pink ahead."

Chloe.

"He's likely to run in to the bunch then. We'll split from here and make our way around," Mari responded as the bird took a step closer to her, hand reaching for his own ear.

"He's livid, isn't he?"

"Beyond so."

"Presumptuous over my disappearance?"

"Barely took note until a few nights ago. Now under the impression they stole you to get back at him."

Jason watched as the kid suppressed a flinch and ground his jaw instead, "He thought I went to the titans, didn't he?"

"Yup. Only made his second theory after a check in with them revealed you never came by. You know, for the world's supposed greatest detective, he refuses to use even a quarter of his brain towards people he claims to care about."

"When has he ever claimed to care about me?"

"Touche," the comm went quiet again as the two started in another direction and Jason began to turn towards where he knew Chloe would run into the man soon enough.

"Shit!" He whipped back around at Oracle's curse.

"He's caught sight of you, Robin. Sorry Tim, you've got to make your choice now, he's headed your way," she let off a stream of curses as everyone froze for a moment before everything went into motion once more.

Jason directed his team to intercept as the assassin gestured the bird forward, allowing him to run ahead of her away from Batman as the others took on the Bat, attempting to distract the man from his goal. 

He hated the idea of forcing Tim into facing off with Bruce at this point. He deserved the time to make his mind up first. That however seemed to be off the table as the bat evaded them all as best he could, taking advantage of their using miraculous they were less familiar with to escape and continue his pursuit of the red, green, and yellow suit running away from the scene.  At his juncture, all he could do was keep on the man's cape, following him leap for leap towards the two getaways.

The two were lithe and agile, keeping pace together as they bounded from rooftop to rooftop, slipping around corners and scurrying up walls with not a moment to spare as the Bat's size prevented him from making the same moves.

Robin would yank her down side alleys and up hidden ramps he left about the city as she guided him through the less savory parts of town that she grew up with Jason in, knowing hidden pathways and spaces too small and unknown for the bulk of the larger pursuants to follow, losing distance while trying to relocate the two without slowing down. Sure, Jason knew those paths as well as she did, but there was no way he would give that away, forcing the man to continue moving to evade him, even without a clear direction of which way they went.

At one point, Batman landed a hair too close, hand snagging into the cape of Robin's uniform. It was sheer luck on all of their parts that his companion noticed a second earlier and unclasped the damned thing a moment before, the cape coming loose in the man's hand right above a hundred foot drop, fueling the anger in Jason's blood at the blatant disregard for the boy's safety. He felt his eyes tilt green, but fought off the urge, forcing his focus on keeping up with the three to ensure the man never caught up with the two.

They swerved off path and Jason wished he could say he realized what was happening, but unfortunately couldn't as they landed directly in the path of the two, cutting them off from their escape.

Robin lurched back into the Assassin's chest, where she steadied him before offering for him to hide behind her despite the similarity in stature not offering much in the way of coverage. Jason gave props for the way Robin shook his head and stood firmly in place, once more emotionless. Not guilty as the first Robin might've been, nor defiant as he would've. Simply closed off in a glacier ice in contrast to Batman's thunderous storm.

"Robin. You look well," the bats eyes narrowed.

"Well thank you, I appreciate your noticing," he responded in the clipped tone of the backhanded socialites he was raised around, knowing how it irritated Bruce when the sarcasm was laced with sincerity.

"With such health, I must wonder why you've yet to return," Batman hedged, starting to put together the pieces.

"Simply observing all my options as I was advised. Would hate to miss out on a better opportunity due to negligence."

The man growled, hearing the accusation for what it was. Jason moved closer behind him, ready to intervene if needed. The figure behind Tim closed in as well, resting a careful hand on the boy's back. The man before them only seemed to tense up at this, lurching forward, only for the way to be blocked.

"Oh hey, Birdy. Looks like you have some interesting company here, mind introducing me?" Nightwing casually strolled over to Robin, draping his arm across smaller shoulders and leading him away, smiling at the assassin, eyes cutting to Batman in a challenge, "I'm sure the Bat won't mind seeing himself out so I can catch up with my baby brothers."

The man tensed up, taking in their figures, three of which he trained himself, another that received the same, if not more training than him. Then glancing up to the four dark figures watching from further up, ready to descend at a moment's notice. Looking back to his eldest, his scowl deepened, but he nodded and took off from the group.

Jason couldn't help but wonder if it were due to the likelihood of his loss or just not thinking Tim worth the effort. As much as the latter pissed him off, he couldn't help but be glad for the lack of a fight. He's not sure how long he could hold off the pit madness had it come to blows.

As soon as the Bat fell out of range, Robin looked up towards Nightwing, "You're here as well?"

"Oracle sent me in. I think we have some catching up to do," he smiled at the boy, then looked up towards Jason as though to include him in his words.

Marinette chose this moment to speak up from under her guise, "Oh hey, Richard. Fancy seeing you here."

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy (3/14)

Story Masterlist

The plum seller at the farmer’s market saves Bucky from being captured for the attack in Vienna that he didn’t commit, but is she really all that she appears to be, or are ulterior motives involved?

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo​ 2020. Word count: 2020. Square filled: “Bucky’s Safehouse”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of wounds and accidents. A couple of uses of the word “shit”.

A/N: This chapter’s a little slower, but bear with me (and my terrible dialogue writing).

She’s pacing. Has been for half an hour, fists clenched at her sides as she tries her darnedest to wear a hole into the shaggy rug in front of the sofa he’s sitting on. All the windows are shut and bolted, every curtain drawn, midday light filtering feebly into the room just enough that none of them crash into furniture when making their way around the small space. Not that there’s much furniture to speak of: a small, handmade table in the corner that also houses the kitchenette, a sofa, and a bed against the wall opposite to where he is seated.

His knee bounces up and down, so fast it’s almost vibrating, and he clenches his gloved, metal hand around it to make it stop. Getting worked up isn’t going to get either of them anywhere, or so he tells himself, trying to work up the courage to say the same to her. Anything to make her quit pacing, because her movement is making his head spin. Her shock seems to have faded away, but his body is starting to catch up to the crash, a pounding headache settling in his skull. 

It had taken almost an hour to get here, and he’s now just as eager to leave as he was to arrive. They’re sitting ducks. Safer, sitting ducks, relatively speaking, but easy targets nonetheless, and they need to keep moving. The repercussions of the car crash, still aching in their rattled bodies, make that impossible, for the time being. 

After pinching the bridge of his nose, he reopens his eyes to find her staring at him with unabashed concern. An impatient tap to her toe, and he wonders if she’s waiting for something, or worse, someone.

Following his gaze to her feet, she immediately stops. Drags a chair from the dining table to sit down on it heavily, hands on her knees, the turmoil evident in the depths of his eyes such a contrast to the shield that has glazed his own over, no emotions escaping for her to interpret and misuse. Opening her mouth, she seems to think better of whatever she was about to say, and she shuts it again, pressing her lips together tightly. Bucky thinks that if she is a spy, she’s shit at hiding her emotions. He can read her like a book, he just doesn’t know what to make of what is written on the pages of her behavior.

“How long do you think we can stay?” She asks eventually, nervously, a tremor in the rapid breath she exhaled her question in, the content of it echoing his own thoughts from moments prior. 

“Not long. Rest tonight, but we should pack up some of the supplies here and leave early tomorrow.” He says, folding his hands together, rubbing at his knuckles harshly. They still smell of antiseptic.

His wound has healed completely, and hers are bleeding less, so he’d wager that there is little to be concerned about in the way of physical repercussions of the accident, but they’ll need their strength. Apparently, she agrees, nodding towards the bed as she gets up. “I’ll take first watch,” she says, and Bucky stands, watches her retrieve her map from her bag, unfolding it apparently to do some planning, before going to the bed. If she wanted to have him killed, he’d be dead already, he tells himself, turning to the wall, trying to relax in the presence of another person for the first time in his memory. 

---

He’s awoken by the scent of hot chocolate filling the cabin, its sweet, heavy scent covering everything in a damp layer of soft goodness so rich he’s dizzy by it. Sitting up, he can see her standing by the small stove in the kitchenette in the corner, stirring the concoction that is intoxicating his every sense. He can’t remember the last time he tasted chocolate, but the joy that comes with it is an association even he would be hard-pressed to forget. 

The domesticity of the scene, misplaced as it is with him having slept with his boots on, and her backpack ready and waiting by the door, strikes him with an unfamiliar pang in his chest. Even by moonlight, with her face turned away from him, her presence is magnetic. Shaking these impractical feelings out of himself, he gets up to go to the bathroom.

When he emerges, she’s sat at the small table. Rather, on the table, as there is only one chair, which she has graciously left for him, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of his spot. She watches him cautiously, eyes boring into his with a curious intensity, and that wit that indicates that she’s too clever to get relaxed around. The sleep did him good, and he tells himself he’s ready for whatever the rest of the night holds for him. 

“I’ve been looking at some possible routes, and I thought we could discuss what to do next,” she tells him, tracing the rim of her mug with the casualness of discussing the weather. After having seen her take the first sip, he drinks his, too, relishing the hotness pouring over his tongue and down his throat.

On the table is an outspread map and an open notebook, that he rises from his seat to look at more closely. Lines in blue ballpoints have been traced outwards from there location and there’s a red line -- in marker -- from Bulgaria, to Turkey, to-- “You want to go south,” he notes, following this highlighted route through the Arabian Sea and to the eastern coast of--

“Africa,” is her answer, and it’s all he can do to only raise an eyebrow in surprise, rather than let his jaw drop the way he wants to. She sighs. “Look, I considered Russia first,” -- he did, too, for the guarantee of not being extradited -- “but that’s where they’ll expect us to go and they’re monitoring the situation north too closely--”

“How do you know that?” He cuts in, standing up straighter now. Ordinarily, survival instincts and awareness such as hers would be a great tool, but it’s the source of said awareness that worries him. She’s a farmer, not a soldier, not a spy, so why is she so good at running away?

Deflection is a response that does not work with him, but he watches her make an attempt at it anyways. “It’s what I would do if I was them.” Impressive, her layman’s response, but Bucky isn’t fooled. 

He's staring her down, piercing gaze interrupted by a strand of hair that falls in front of his face. Somehow darker than the blackout curtains behind him. Pushing it back impatiently, he waits, still. Hopes for an explanation, something to alleviate even an iota of the anxiety that vibrates in his skin when he’s around her, his epidermis tingling with something he doesn’t understand. 

Surprised to find not only frustration and stubbornness in the blue of his ocean-irises, but also desperation and fear, she falters. “I’m not a farmer,” she says, as if Bucky doesn’t know that already. However, he is taken aback by her ability to voice his thoughts exactly; she can extract them from the depths of his broken mind and put them into the world. Her words are suspended in the air like dust particles in sunlight, a state of stalemate, between the light and the dark, words that neither of them are sure what to make of. So the memory of humor, embedded into the muscle of his tongue makes its appearance, inopportunely. 

“Yeah, no shit, sweetheart.” She laughs. Well, she starts to laugh, and is only able to stifle the sound into a short giggle that is as sweet in his ears as the hot chocolate starting to go cold on the table next to him. At his bemused gaze that comes across as confused, she loses it. Closes her eyes and shakes her head, hand -- with deep purple nail polish starting to peel off -- desperately pressed over her mouth to stop.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, regaining her breath, eyes shimmering. “I know it’s not funny, it’s just--” A sigh, and another exhale of a laugh. “This situation is just ridiculous, and I can’t tell you who I am, not yet, but I will.” Her tone turns serious, voice lowering now to convey sincerity, and Bucky watches her pick at the skin around her nails. A nervous habit, something to look at besides him and his questions. “I promise, I will.”

“You know that’s not good enough,” he answers, watching her raise her eyes to him, seconds, minutes, what feels like hours, after she’s spoken. “Give me a reason to trust you.”

“I don’t know if I can, James.”

“Try.” Try like your life depends on it, because it just might.

“I can tell you I’m a journalist.” Bucky wants to tell her that that doesn’t make him want to trust her any more. Reporters are just as dangerous to him as the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre that is surely still on their tail. “I was injured while working in the field last year and decided to go on sabbatical, to take some time for myself. Starting staying in Romania with my grandfather, who owns the plum farm I was selling for,” she says. “I recognized you the moment I saw you, but I didn’t feel the need to report you, and when the attack happened, I knew you had to leave, and I could help.”

It’s quite the story, he’ll admit, and he believes part of it. But there are a lot of moving pieces to this puzzle that she is, and he doesn’t have time to put it all together. For now, he has enough to stay. To follow and hope for a good thing, for the first time he can remember. She picks up on his hesitation, which colors the air in spite of the efforts he has been making -- and is tired of making -- and attempts to talk straight through his tensions.

"I'm sorry. I really am. The person who killed all those people at the UN is still out there, and he's trying to get away with it by framing you. If they catch you, he wins. We need to get you somewhere that can't happen, so we can work on finding him." When she speaks again, it's a low whisper, and he can tell that she regrets it. Hates that she sounds like a poacher trying to entrap its prey, when in fact, her purpose is quite the opposite. She's trying to keep him away from the poachers. Little does she know that he's shocked. Frozen again, for a different reason. He thinks this is the first time he's heard compassion. It's petal-soft and hits him in the gut. He reels from the impact of the honey-slow drip of her voice flowing through his ears. Gentle throughout their journey thus far, it is now vulnerable. And that's new. 

She breaks him out of his reverie with a murmur of his first name, and that’s when he realizes he never asked for hers. Winter Soldier though he may have been, he’s losing his touch. Maybe he does need a partner to get him out of this mess, this time. If that’s what she is, and the jury’s still out on that one. “Why do you care so much?” Bucky asks, watching her closely.

“I can’t help it. I just can’t watch them take you away,” she answers, and oh, how Bucky wishes he could believe her, and that honest-to-goodness smile, although now she seems to be neither. How he wishes the world was as black-and-white as she’s making it appear, that the swirling enigma he has been sucked into would stop, just long enough for him to see the clear picture, but alas. His world is a carousel, where the circus music is loud, blaring sirens, that she leaps to her feet at the sound of, and that has him reaching for his backpack.

l0chn3ss update

I feel like the last time I ever really active on tumblr was in the year 2016, so i want to address my absence between 2017-2020. Part of it is because I feel like I owe it to my friends and mutuals who I just basically left on read and another part is because I’ve always treated this blog as a personal blog that documents my life and my growth. I put off writing this for a long time but now that I have a huge paper due, now is definitely the time.

You are welcome to skip but I will address a few hard hitting questions I feel should be answered, especially since I feel like I departed like an anti-hero of a bad tv show.

Where I am currently: I am in grad school to obtain a master’s in library and information science. I have a full time job at different middle school libraries, though I work from home now. I also tutor kids on the side to pay for my tuition because I basically make minimum wage. Quarantine messed with my head at first, but now I’m feeling much better and I’m trying to reconnect with friends and close a lot of loose ends.

TLDR: I took an extended break because tumblr mobile sucks and my laptop needed serious repairs. I made a huge migration away from social media in 2018. I prioritized my education and in-person connections, which fell to shit because of my fandom involvement in the past. I did not like the direction of the main fandom I participated in and knew that many of the people I once respected did not respect me in return/ Us versus them mentality. I recognized that I treated my life on tumblr too seriously and took petty drama personally. I am sporadically on tumblr now because I genuinely enjoy the social connection and because I still like running fandom events.

Yes, you can reblog this. I’d love for this narrative to be heard.

Long version: To preface this, this post is being written to give myself closure and because I really am procrastinating on my final big paper of this semester. I’ll be tackling on the points in the tldr in a longer narrative that will appear to be in an expository fashion, which I recognize will be a source of contention, but my intentions are to throw it onto the table so that I can be freed. I can let it go and move on. I’m no longer a 20 years old who cared too much of what other people think and will think; I think differing perspectives are important and I want to give myself a chance to say my piece. That and I recognize that I lost the audience that I once had, so I doubt this will be an issue at all. It’s been 4 or what ever years, let’s just not.

Back in 2015-2016 there was a huge back and forth between three groups of people in the SE fandom. The reason why I’m not listing out the name is because I don’t want this to show up in the tags. I’d say that the three groups could be seen as quite literally the soma shippers (mostly white, demi sexual girls), lgbt centric bloggers (very kid or star oriented, very fed up with soma), and the people who were deemed as alright to soma shippers (c r ona, ste inm arie, jac k im centric people). There was a constant (and understandable) tension between the first two groups while the third was like the weird cousin that everyone in the social circles liked because they sprinkled in soma for the masses. Don’t argue with me on this-- this was literally how the fandom was in 2015 and you know it.

The main issue was that one group felt that they were being inclusive towards identities and sexualities while the other felt that they were not. I remember that one of the arguments was that soma WAS an LGBT ship because people headcanonned the members to be demisexual. However, the other side of the argument was that it wasn’t good representation of a gay pairing. Now that we can look back at this 5 years later, I have two things to say: 1, I now very much understand why the argument broke out because of how heated the topic is, and I do believe that I lean more towards the “other side” now that I’m not wearing rose tinted glasses, but 2, I need to make it clear that demi people are lgbt, but a headcanon is not fact and ship diversity was the main question at hand, not the ship itself. This argument lasted for weeks, destroyed my friendships, and no matter what I felt I did in the moment (which was to mend the fandom), it was taken as an insult.

(Side note: Somethings that I remember was being in someone’s DM’s to encourage them to participate in the large fandom events more, but once they twisted my intentions and rallied their friends, I became their enemy. I also became the mods’ enemy but then again, when was I not? I was made fun of for saying “queergender,” a term that is now currently being widely used, quite openly by someone I wanted desperately to be friends with. I was outwardly mocked by popular users who only apologized behind closed doors but didn’t bother to clear things up with their followers. Adults who were in their 30s quite literally attacked a 19 year old. It was in that moment that I realized I would never become friends with either side, and not because I didn’t want to.)

I bring this up because as I begun to stop writing soma fics, I also begun to see and understand why people moved away from it. It wasn’t the ship itself, it was the culture surrounding it. However, on tumblr we have the ability to connect intensely with the content we produce. Therefore, the ship itself began to be connected with the shippers and their attitudes towards outside pairings-- that attitude being tied into elitism.

I say this with every ounce of love I can because I once had the exact same mannerism. When you become so tied into one pairing to the point where other ships appear to threaten the existence of it and you react negatively towards it, you become rancid. The popular tag “everything is soma” takes a very dark turn. Even if readers consume another pairing’s work, they will be obliged to say “I ship soma more BUT that was cute.” They will read an entirely different topic and wonder why soma wasn’t inserted into it in the background. They will reject pairings that separate the two as if breaking them up is sin and an insult.

The only reason why I stopped writing my soma fics in 2016 was because I saw a real need to fill in the gaps of other pairings. I took what people were saying to heart and I wanted to change my ways and my perceptions. I saw the animosity of the ship culture and rejected it. I wanted to use what little influence I had to make the fandom just a bit more accepting. In 2016, I don’t think the fandom was ready for it. In 2017, they still weren’t ready for it. In 2020, I see hope, but I wonder sometimes if it’s masqueraded pity because of previous treatment.

In the middle of it all, I went from being the soma angst master to becoming the weird person everyone once knew. I was the friend that people excluded from group chats and I just “wasn’t the same.” Cliques grew extremely large in power in 2017 and exclusion hurt like a bitch.

The straw that broke the camel’s back and completely shut me down was in 2017 when I was graduating as a bachelor. There was a fandom event that I decided to go all in to. For context, there used to be a huge debate on how many times a person should enter in an event, but in my mind, the more exposure the better. My graduation and the event took place at the exact same time, which was cool, but what hurt me was what happened after.

I was lucky enough to be accepted into field school (when you travel to do outdoor excavating) for my major. I’m an anthropologist-- it was an honor. I didn’t plan in advance for it, and if anything, I thought that I would be committed completely to the events and my 5 or what ever entries at the time. I’ve always prided myself in communicating with others, so I made sure to let my partners in the event know what was going on. I was so excited to be going on my first ever excavation and no one at the time said anything otherwise, in fact, they all seemed incredibly supportive. 

What I didn’t know was that I would be called out by name in the event feedback response by one person who felt that I didn’t take the event seriously enough and that I should’ve prioritized my time accordingly. Two of the mods let me know because it referred to me directly, though the name of the submitter was not included. It was not only a slap in the face, but a dumbfound moment that reminded me that wow, fandom content really is someone’s life out there. My enforced silence because of lack of internet in the woods actually upset someone and made them believe that I wronged them, because I put my real life ambitions first before a fandom event.

It was then when I woke up and I remember very clearly thinking to myself: I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to treat my fandom life seriously. I want to participate in fandom for fun, not out of duty. I don’t want to prioritize this life because in the end, if I am hated for putting my work and education first, then I don’t want it.

(For context, I suspect that it was the same person who made a 200 note call out on me during the fandom tension. I respected this person immensely, but I also treated them like the flawed person I believe everyone is. I’m sure because of this, I’m pretty much trash in their eyes, which is totally fine. They have really cute cats so they can’t be all too bad. Don’t look into it too deeply.)

Once my month long field school was up, I was already used to not being on the internet or any of my social media accounts. I didn’t play my mobile games for a month. I didn’t read the news for a month. It was like going cold turkey on the internet, which reshaped my habits entirely. The only time that I had online within that time span was during the weekend, but I spent my time working on my projects and catching up with friends instead of being on apps.

I was also completely fed up with tumblr’s mobile app at the time, so one by one, I deleted my apps. Good bye to tumblr, snapchat, what little I used of instagram, twitter, everything. The only thing I kept was facebook, which was because it is the main platform that I use to message my boyfriend. That meant that any friends I retained from the fandom (who I still contact now) were also friends who had the chance to add me on facebook.

This was the cause of my 2 or 3 year hiatus on tumblr, and therefore the fandom. I occasionally checked back every 6 months to do a few fandom events, but I have several unopened messages and notifications that I haven’t been able to get to. I open my instagram for a few days once a year, and I only go onto twitter if my friends tell me (through facebook) that they dm’d me a post there.

When I left my online persona behind, I quickly strengthened my in person connections. New drama that erupted every other day became replaced with starbucks and boba runs. Reality TV shows replaced fanfiction. Text messages replaced the tumblr activity feed (which still doesn’t work on mobile BTW). I study at cafes unironically with friends instead of typing alone in my room. Overall, it opened my world considerably.

I still like making fun of myself and I try not to take myself seriously. I still make self depreciative memes to send to friends but then double up with kermit heart pics. I’m still a plot bunny, I still write my fics, I still watch my anime, I still play video games, I still sleep at 4am, I still take my depression medication, I still love potatoes, I still use my voice for people who can’t find theirs yet. But I think I’m in a much healthier mindset now, even if I still make stupid shifty posts calling out bad behavior.

Nowadays, I’m working on my Master’s degree in secret. My parents don’t know about it because my mom doesn’t like that I want to go out and do unladylike things like getting an education. I tutor kiddos and I’m really good with younger children, but I’m not going to do anything with kids because I just don’t want to. Instead, I want to work at an archive or a museum to bring my library interests and my anthropology background together. If I had my dream job, I would be a marine archaeologist; however I love my boyfriend of 8 years whom you probably all remember and I really came to terms with my grandeur dreams. I’m extremely happy with living in a small town with loved ones now, and I don’t need to move somewhere far away from my parents to be content. It’s a huge realization.

From 2018 to 2020 I got into actual drama in person while I was job hunting. Adult people suck and honestly it’s kind of embarrassing how ill equipped some people are. Even so, I currently work in middle schools as a media assistant. One of those realms is the library, and honestly it’s like fulfilling a prophecy. As much as I love the social aspect, public schools are an absolute train wreck.

I’m going to wrap this up now. This post is meant to help me close the past and move forward because the fandom culture feels different now. Things from several years ago don’t need to resurface. I want to enjoy my life fully, and fandom life is one of those aspects that I truly did enjoy. I’m going to keep using my voice and act like a fool, but I’m also not going to be losing sleep because of this. People are going to talk about you no matter what, whether positively or negatively, and it’s important to not take it personally.

Idk, go enjoy yourselves. Do things for yourself. It’s more fun that way.

Survey #358

“i know the pieces fit, ‘cuz i watched them fall away”

Would you ever own a Great Dane as a pet? Oh Lord, my mom wants one so bad. She looooves big dogs. I wouldn't, though. I don't want another dog, period. What was or is your favorite quality about your recent ex? Her resilience, strength, creativity, loyalty, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. lol. Have you ever witnessed a human being giving birth in real life? No, and I NEVER fucking will. What about an animal? Yeah, cats. What kind of things do you enjoy reading about on sites like Wikipedia? I sometimes do that for straightening out game plots after watching a let's play if I have remaining questions. Wikipedia tends to do well with compressing it. Which country’s cuisine that you haven’t tried, would you be interested in sampling? (e.g. Moroccan, Thai etc.) I wouldn't know because I'm not educated enough on foreign cuisines. What’s the last movie you watched on your own? The Shining, I think, forever ago. Fried, poached, boiled or scrambled eggs? Scrambled. Have you ever got into a club, whilst being underage? I've never tried. Are you happy with your relationship with God, or do you want more from it? I don't have one. Do you struggle with boredom? Very, very severely. I have absolutely awful anhedonia; I'm pretty much constantly bored. Literally. I just... find things to pass the time, even if I'm not really enjoying myself. What famous person do you wish you could be friends with? I'm going to assume here you don't mean a significant other, because uh... y'all been known lmaooo. I would really love to be friends with Gab Smolders (I know that's not her real name, just using her YT name), because we have very similar interests. As well, Suzie Hanson is a fucking SWEETHEART. I miss her channel. :( At some point I want to purchase some stuff from her store to support the darling. Man, thinking of this question, there's really a lot. What would you do if you were famous? Hate it, haha. Do you wish you hair were shorter or longer? It's at a fine length right now. What photo editing website or software do you use? Lightroom and Photoshop. What hair color looks best on you and what’s your natural color? I think my hair looked best black. It's naturally brown. What is your favorite show to watch? Meerkat Manor. It is so, so comforting to me. Are your maternal/parental instincts strong? Not with kids, oddly enough. I've only ever really encountered strong protective instincts with significant others like when they're sick or something like that. In school, do you/did you work better by yourself or in a group? I absolutely worked better alone. I hated group work. Do you know anyone who has a collection of old records? My mom did, once upon a time. I feel like I know someone who does now... but idk. Do you go on any forums often? Just RP ones. Would you ever agree to an open relationship with someone? Nnnnope. Do people always say you’re too thin? Uh, I have the opposite problem. Could you design a whole web page yourself? Not from scratch, no. I've only done so on free sites that give you the bare bones and easy editing. Have you ever cooked an entire dinner for your family? Definitely not. Do you prefer piano music or violin music? Ohhhh, both are beautiful, but I have to say violin. Who do you tend to get in fights with the most? My mom, I guess, not that we fight a lot. Are you attracted to spooky and macabre things naturally? YEP. Have you ever bobbed for apples? Were you successful? No. It's disgusting if you're going after others, and besides, I HATE water up my nose and have never quite figured out how to block it out without plugging it. Hypothetically speaking, if you had a child [too young to make their own decisions], what would you dress him/her up as for Halloween? It would depend on what their interests were. Do you intend to take your children trick-or-treating, if ever you have any? I'm not having kids, but if I did, I definitely would if they wanted to go. What is the coolest jack-o-lantern you have ever seen? Now THAT'S hard, I really don't know. What was your favorite candy to get from trick-or-treating? What about your least favorite? Reese's was my favorite, and I never liked Tootsie Rolls. Did you ever receive anything that wasn’t candy? Maybe? I feel like I have... Have you ever carved a really extensive pumpkin, or were they always simple carvings? Yes; I once carved a pumpkin with a raven design with "and quoth the raven, 'nevermore'" written into the back. The raven wasn't just a flat cut-out, but rather carved in layers so the light came through differently at certain depths. Are you more interested in cute, funny, “sexy”, or scary costumes? For myself, absolutely the scary ones. In general though, I'm not gonna BS ya, I love me some sexy costumes, haha, but also still scary and particularly gory ones. Have you ever intimidated or made another person feel legitimately threatened? If not, do you think that you could ever be seen as scary? I seriously hate admitting this, but Mom has confessed that my yelling has scared her before when scolding our former dog that I fucking hated. In what ways do you or would you need to be validated by a partner? (For example, liking your posts/talking about you on social media, or perhaps by doting on your with gifts.) I absolutely need words of affirmation. I just need to hear a lot that you do still like/love me. Also, if you're unwilling to actually act like we're a couple in front of ANYONE, like you're ashamed of me or something, byyyyeeee. Do you tend to succeed by weaning yourself off of something or by quitting cold turkey? It depends, I guess. Is there a specific type of pet breed/size/etc. that you don’t want? Why not? Any that have underlying medical issues, like pugs, spider ball pythons, Persian cats, etc. etc... It's just a moral thing; I don't want to support the deliberate continuation of poor genes in animals for human monetary gain. It's just wrong to me. Away from breeds, I also don't really want free-roaming animals after my cat passes, because I don't want to endanger the reptiles and invertebrates I want as pets in the future. Have you ever lived in a notoriously dangerous area? If not, would it bother you to do so? I grew up in one, yes. I never want to again. Has a friend’s significant other ever interfered with or damaged your friendship? What about a significant other of yours damaging a friendship? No. What, if anything, is something that you put pressure on yourself about? What do you imagine would happen if you did not live up to this expectation? Getting a job nowadays. I do NOT want to imagine what my life will be like if I never find employment. If you have been in a serious relationship, have you and your partner ever discussed lifetime plans that clashed? Did you reconcile them or did you break up? If you have not been in a relationship, what are some issues that would be deal-breakers? This hasn't happened, no. If you were offered to smoke some weed right now would you accept? Honestly, I want to try weed to see if it would help my anxiety, BUT I'm unwilling to ever smoke something, so no. Have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle? Yeah. Do you listen to country music? No. Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? No. Were you ever a trouble maker? Not really, no. Do you shave your legs? Hell, that's debatable by this point. I haven't since this past October, but I *would* if for whatever reason someone might see my legs. I am not overexaggerating when I say I naturally have men's legs as far as hair goes, oof. Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? That's what my dad always drank when he was an alcoholic. He doesn't touch alcohol now. Have you ever gotten sloppy drunk at a party? No. Have you ever slept naked? Accidentally. Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life? I really don't think I could be. Do you actually like going to school? I never did. Have you ever really been in a “complicated relationship”? How did that work out? In your opinion, what makes a relationship “complicated”? No. I don't care enough to go into what a complicated relationship means, I think it's pretty obvious. Who was the first person you’ve ever fallen in love with? Is this a person you’re still in contact with? How do you know you’re in love with someone? Jason, and no. And you just... know. It's a wordless feeling . Have you ever successfully broken a bad habit? How about conquered a fear of something? Uhhhh I don't know, really. Well, I used to be AWFUL at picking my eyebrows, particularly when anxious, but I have gotten better at that. I still kinda do it, though. Onto the next question, I don't believe I've "conquered" a fear, but rather they just faded with time on their own. Have you ever read a whole series of books? Yeah. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up? I walked. Do you own a pair of brass knuckles? No. Have you ever tried to break a Guinness World Record? No. Can you sing your ABC’s backwards? I can't. Do you like Skittles? I love Skittles. Do you know how to read music? I used to. Who would you say has made the biggest impact on your life? Really, Jason. He ultimately led to me getting proper treatment for my depression, which changed my life. I'm in no way giving him credit for it, but you get what I mean. You can only listen to THREE CDs for the rest of your life. What are they? Black Rain and Ozzmosis by Ozzy Osbourne, and uhhh... perhaps The Black Album by Metallica. Do you own any shirts that have a year on it? Yeah, but it's way too small for me now. It's from Back To The Future, when we actually reached the date in the movie. Have you ever done another person’s make-up? Ha, I gave Jason a makeover once. Honestly, do you double dip? Not if I'm sharing the dip with other people. Who were you last on an elevator with? My mom. Do you know anyone that has a black belt in karate? Not to my knowledge. How often do you wear hats? Never. Who is the youngest gay person you know? *shrug* Have you ever watched an animal being eaten by another animal? I've seen cats eat mice and stuff as a kid. What is the strangest, most “out there” thing you believe? Some people I'm sure would consider the fact I believe the government was involved in 9/11 as "out there," but when you look into it, it's far from "out there." Do you get along with people who are especially religious? Why/why not? It depends on how they act about it, not what they keep in their head. Now if they have just purely hateful beliefs that demonize another's existence, then no, we can't get along. Have you ever drawn or painted a self-portrait? Painted, yes, for an art class. Do you have any interesting pillow cases? No. Are you more afraid of spiders or bees? Bees, generally. Especially if we're talking things like wasps, who are just demon spawns. Would you rather donate time, blood, or money? That's a really hard question, but I guess time? Like I'm thinking volunteer work and stuff, or listening to and comforting someone. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're sexy on absolutely no one. Last strong smell you can remember smelling? Ugh, gasoline. This one car in front of my mom and me smelled awful. Last healthy thing you ate? Apples. Do you know anybody who was abused? Emotionally, yes. Do your parents volunteer anywhere? No. Do you have a steering wheel cover? Mom's car doesn't. What do you think of when you see sharp knives? This is really morbid, but I will immediately envision what it would be like to be stabbed. I'm very afraid of knives. The highway and back roads take you to the same place; choose your route. The back roads, of course. And let me bring my camera.

I have placed the Last Pack of Cigarettes I Smoked Out Of up on my mantle next to the Last Bottle of Vodka I Drank Out Of.

The first two days of quitting smoking - cold turkey - are so unbelievably difficult. Quitting booze was nothing compared to quitting the smokes. It’s so hard because both failure and success are punished during that time.

Let me explain: When you’re a smoker, you generally develop the urge to light up in response to just about anything. Finished a meal? Light up. Need to think on a problem before you begin working on it? Light up. Satisfied with a task you’ve completed? Celebrate by lighting up.

It’s that ‘satisfied with a task you’ve completed’ thing that was the hardest to deal with. I was trying to work on the game I’m building and when I would finish a block of code, I’d have the urge to light up, and then I’d immediately remember that I can’t do that. So, my successful tasks were being punished with horrible craving pangs. I became so upset about this that I basically decided to just lay there and do nothing for an entire day. I was afraid to do stuff because I didn’t want to experience that crushing feeling.

I’m past the worst of it now. I��m probably still going to be struggling a bit for a couple weeks, but the most soul-crushing part is over, I think. I’m going to call myself officially done with smoking because quite frankly, I don’t want to start again even if I do still have the cravings. I’ll just inevitably want to quit again at some point in the future and I am not going through this ‘success is punished with craving pangs’ bullshit again.

It’s hard to overstate just how terrible it was. During most of Day 2, I genuinely believed that I would never experience feelings of satisfaction or joy again and that I was going to just have to resign myself to my fate.

It’s kind of startling just how tight of an addictive grip cigarettes can have on a person. Now I know why so many people think it’s impossible to quit. It’s not impossible, but it is damn hard and the addiction makes it so that you feel like all the negative emotions you’re going through during withdrawal are going to be permanent.

But I’ve come out the other side now and I can see that the negative feelings aren’t permanent... and I won’t have the daily annoyances of smoking anymore. I won’t have to foul up what I’m doing in a video game because I’ve got a lit cigarette in one hand. I won’t have to constantly be on guard against my cats jumping up to me because I’m worried they might run into a lit cigarette or step on the ashtray while it still has burning embers in it. I won’t have to deal with lighters that are running out of fluid. I won’t have to perform the frantic ‘we’re really low on smokes and I’m desperate to find some’ search of shaking discarded cigarette packs in the hope I’ll hear rattling inside.

I’m worried that I might turn to over-eating as a replacement for smoking, but I probably shouldn’t worry too much.

On May 22, 2020, I quit a 10-year booze habit - cold turkey.

On November 24, 2020, I quit a 6-year cigarette habit - cold turkey.

If I develop some kind of issue with eating and have to deal with that, I think I’ll be alright - ‘cause it sure as hell won’t be my first rodeo.

Insert, Cas

Monday: Jealousy

written for  #SpnStayAtHome challenge  @pray4jensen @bend-me-shape-me  @helianthus21​ @verobatto-angelxhunter​

Remember that episode where Dean Winchester wears his favorite nightgown? Where they celebrate the last holiday season 15 ep 14?  Yes, that! Jealous Cas and Jealous Dean over some nightgown!

written for #spnStayAtHome Challenge

To say he was a little behind of everything was an understatement. Castiel comes home that morning from another trip to find the household in a post-celebration state judging from the leftovers on the table. Candlesticks he’d never seen before are on top of a white thanksgiving mantle and a plastic Turkey making Castiel feel he missed something out, especially when he hears laughter from the kitchen with everyone still hyped up in its wake.

He finds Sam and Dean with Jack inside the kitchen, all still talking merrily over coffee and vegetable salad. The three are huddled together on the table discussing something that brings smiles at the corner of their lips. Smiling to himself, he follows the sound, smiles even more at finding his little family happy.

Dean saw him first and says something about the ‘missing gay angel’ to which he tilts his head as he steps inside to join them. Sam offers him his chair, saying something about early research while Dean brings his empty cup and Sam’s plate on the sink, leaving the attentive smiling angel with Jack.

He doesn’t need to ask. Jack bombards him of details about how last night was the happiest all-holiday-night he’s ever had. Castiel squints. Apparently, they had a very special visitor last night—someone magical and warm and good. Castiel has to glance back from the boy to Dean then back at Jack who was becoming such a passionate storyteller.

“…she’s a wood nymph living in the Bunker-"

Castiel gapes. Dean shrugs from where he stands. "She's a resident, Cas."

"Wood nymph? Here? But I would've known-"

"Maybe from a local neighborhood?"

Castiel shakes his head, more questions than getting enough answers until Jack is talking again.

"Cas, you should’ve met her. She was very nice and very lovely and kind. The food she made was so good and delicious! Even Dean said it’s the best thing homemade he’s had after Mary’s.” Jack pauses with a blink, then smiles.  “She was so fun to have. She treated us with all these holiday meals and it was amazing. We were so happy last night, I wished you could’ve been here.”

Castiel smiles, not sure it was in his best interest to be here last night to be happy.

Then he feels the heated gaze first before he hears Dean speak.

“Yeah, where were you?” Dean snaps, making Castiel lower his gaze not meeting Dean’s eyes. “I was trying to call you last night, you kept me on voice mail, man. What did I say about not picking up the phone?”

“I’m sorry. I was caught up in a small hunt. It was necessary I took care of it.”

Dean turns thoughtfully.

“Was it dangerous?” he likes to know.

 “Well, I’m in one piece,” Castiel says drily.

“Geez, just asking.” Dean grunts and Castiel doesn’t argue with him because he didn’t want Dean in a bad mood early in the morning. But then he guesses the god mood would stretch on the way Dean easily lets it go, still humming by the sink.

Jack continues his monologue about how the woodnymph was living in the Bunker for a long time, not disturbing the living folks because that’s what fairies do until Sam tells her there might not be a Bunker in the future so she decides to give them a sendoff party, calling it their last holiday on earth.

“You’re not supposed to smiles saying that, Jack,” Castiel says gently to the still smiling boy.

“Well, it didn’t stop Dean wearing his nightgown—”

“Nightshirt, kid!” Dean hisses and whatever he is doing by the sink, Castiel no longer cares. Dean is blushing, that’s enough distraction for him to not interrupt. “So, it’s soft and fluffy and looks straight from Peter Pan but she’s my Tinkerbell, what was I supposed to do?”

“He told her that.” Jack muses, “She’s very smart, Cas. She figured the best way to keep her family safe is to stay in Men of Letters and then Sam and Dean too… very pleased with us. She said she didn’t expect Sam and Dean to be too less human…I don’t think she meant it in a bad way. You would’ve loved her, Cas. Dean does.”

Dean turns at the angel about to say something funny because Dean always thinks it’s hilarious, except he stops at the heavy look Castiel throws his way. The hunter freezes.

“What? Something on my face?”

“What?”

Castiel ignores him turns to Jack. “Is she still here?”

“No, she had to leave to look for a safer place after we told her the Bunker is a possible target of Chuck.”

“Oh.”

“It’s her home.” Dean wipes his hands with a towel as he walks to the table. “She’ll come back.”

“She liked your nightshirt and nightcap too so maybe she will,” Jack adds and Dean flushes, embarrassed the tip of his ears turning red. Castiel stares and listens more until Jack says he’d like to help Sam with research and then he’s off with feet sound of feet disappearing along the corridor.

Dean only shrugs when he and Castiel are left behind. Hanging the towel by the sink, he asks Castiel if he wants a beer to which the angel declines.

He follows Dean with his eyes imagining the violet nightshirt he could swear Dean ordered from Amazon Primer after their short adventure in the Scooby-doo realm. Dean is no longer wearing said soft article but is now back at his regular lumberjack and hard jeans-wearing his boots that showed no softness whatsoever.

Castiel frowns. He doesn’t wait for Dean to close the cold storage; the angel shoots up to his feet that Dean bumps right at him when he turns.

The can of beer slips from Dean’s hand but the hunter got it right on reflex catching it midair.

“Cas!” he exclaims a little surprise when they stand face to face, “What—are we not going back to old habits? Geez.”

Dean slips past him with petulant glare Castiel is already so used to. When Dean turns and finds the angel on his tail again, the hunter finally pauses and studies him.

“Okay, you’re freaking me out. What?”

Castiel opens his mouth, unsure what to say but Dean rolls his eyes.

“Cas, if you’re going to bitch at me for something I don’t remember doing—hell—we barely even see each other for me to actually screw you.”

“I’m sorry, I should have your calls.”

There’s a pause between Dean opening the can of beer and stopping. Castiel shifts at Dean’s gaze so he snatches the can and opens it for Dean. He pushes it back on the hunter’s hand, not quite looking him in the eyes. He knows Dean must be looking as perplexed as he is.

“Okay, what’s happening, Cas? You gonna talk or I’m going to make you?”

That gets him squinting up. “Make me? How?”

Dean takes a step towards him and Castiel itches to remind him of personal space. Except unlike Dean, he doesn’t really mind staring up so closely when he can enjoy the numerous counts of Dean’s freckled cheeks under the fluorescent light.

“What’s got your wings all ruffled?”

“You can’t see them.” The angel snaps.

“Cas.”

Castiel licks his lips.

“Oh, she’s my favorite.” Dean sighs.

Castiel sinks on his chair and glowers.

“Why?” he asks flatly. Dean shrugs.

“She’s my Tinkerbell.”

“Is she tiny?” Castiel narrows his eyes. Dean’s eyes dances.

“You’ve no idea—”

“I haven’t. I wasn’t here.”

Dean pauses as if catching on the dry tone. Castiel rolls his eyes and stares hard at the edge of the table with clasped hands not wanting to meet Dean’s eyes.

“Well, who’s fault is that?”

Castiel looks away unwilling to admit on any fault because it wasn’t his. So, he was needed outside, he had things to do outside and keep as much distance from Dean when such proximity could threaten his existence and leave the Winchester and Jack at the hour of dire need. Dean makes a

“What am I supposed to do, Cas? You’re always out of the Bunker, always out on a mission. It’s like you can’t even stay put one second here—I mean, is it me, or are you just avoiding me?”

Castiel startles.

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are! Do you think I didn’t notice ever since Purgatory? Finger count the number of times you’ve been home, Cas. I barely remember your last words to me—”

“It was the day before yesterday, I said—"

“Two words! Cas, go figure! You’re avoiding me!”

“Am not.” Castiel grits his teeth, keeping his grip on Dean’s shirt, “Dean, you know I stay here as much as you do—”

“To babysit Jack, I get it— ever think of the last time we drank together? Only two of us? Yeah, that long. And whenever you’re around, the time spent is you on your phone with some sleazy Russian-dude I barely know who probably wants to do bad things to you—why are you always on the phone with that guy, huh?”

“We talked about this, he’s a resource.”

“You talk to him on the phone more than you talk to me!”

Castiel bristles.

“Dean, I don’t understand the relation why you have to bring him up when you’re the one who flirted with a nymph who likes you in a nightgown because you are likable in anything you wear! If anyone should be jealous, it should be me.”

Dean blinks. “W-who says I was jealous?”

“I didn’t.” Castiel glares. “I said I am.”

So, he was and it was the truth. Dean needs to hear it because hinting doesn’t work with Dean even if he is the most suggestive human Castiel has ever endearingly met. The angel looks up in time to see the black of Dean’s irises expanding round leaving the greens like a halo around his pupils.

“Y-you’re jealous?”

“I am.” Castiel looks away.

“Jealous of what?”

“Nightshirt.”

“You want to wear my nightgown?”

Castiel stares down the floor, face flushing at Dean’s stupid antics. He knows Dean understands—or maybe not.

“I want to see you in the nightshirt!”

And thankfully Sam comes bounding back with Jack on his heels so Castiel is saved from saying anything further as I love you. Dean doesn’t let him go easy though. He tugs Castiel back by the wrist once Sam is done with the timely announcement.

“Oh, so I know your kink,” Dean whispers when his brother is out of earshot. “You wanna see me on my nightgown?”

“It’s a nightshirt. Move your ass, Dean.”

And the morning is filled with a very flirty Dean Winchester lacing their fingers together or bumping their shoulders even when seated.

Castiel doesn’t discourage him but he doesn’t do the opposite either. At least Dean satisfies himself with something so little while Sam drones on some intel about Chuck. Then Dean doesn’t stop giving Castiel that look between smiling and flirting like Castiel is the best thing inside the Bunker. And all this is because of one confession— all Dean knows is that Castiel is jealous and that’s enough for him to live by.

Castiel can’t believe Dean has no idea of their stand.

Every single time he was out of the Bunker listening to Jack telling Dean’s lame joke repeatedly the same day, said over and over until Sam is grimacing and Jack retelling his own version. The sound of Dean’s laughter so achingly familiar over the phone while Castiel speaks to Sam on the phone asking for information while a hundred miles away.

It hurts.

Every single time he is out of the Bunker.

He is jealous of Jack spending time with Dean.

He is jealous of Sam spending time with Dean.

He is jealous of the Wood Nymph who made Dean the best food. He wants to see Dean on the nightshirt. He is jealous… so jealous to the point he thinks being happy is out of reach and it’s a sacrifice he was willing to take.

Would still keep doing if it meant he can stay with them all the while figuring out a way to get out of the deal with his own hand.

He wasn’t going to make the Winchesters suffer unnecessarily on his behalf when he can do something about it before it happens. But for now, he will keep from Dean, stay jealous… will forever be jealous of all the time not spent with Dean and his family…

Dean stills grin at him knowing finally that the angel does care about his own absence in Dean’s life. Dean holds their hands under the table with their knees pressing, their elbows nudging at each other's space. Dean makes him smile in those little moments they share.

So, he stays jealous.

Dean can convince him to stay and maybe one of those days he will with fear in his heart. Someday though, he’ll see Dean happy in his arms, see Dean in that dress, watch Dean enjoy his Thanksgiving without holding back his feelings. Stay by Dean’s side because that’s what he wants the most.

It wasn’t going to be their Last Holiday, not without Castiel inserted there somewhere right beside Dean.

END [in need of episode 14 haha]

AO3 

Smoke and Mirrors

Series: The Magnus Archives Pairing: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims Summary: Elias offers to help Jon quit smoking. He doesn't particularly feel that strongly about it, but when presented with another incentive, Jon finds himself going along with it anyway. for jonelias week day 2 - manipulation & caretaking Notes/Warnings: Pre-Canon, Manipulation, Smoking, Dom/sub undertones AO3 CH1 - ?

It starts with a harmless, albeit likely patronizing, observation.

“That’s a nasty habit.”

Jon’s eyes flick up and away from the hand steadying his lighter, the smoke already starting to drift off the end of his cigarette. He’s used to such comments. Generally, people are even worse about it, go on about how he’s polluting the air and so on—hence, why he’s even on this side of the building, which has more or less been claimed by the other smokers at the Institute.

However, he’s pinned by the fact the words came from none other than Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute and currently his boss’s boss. He finishes his inhale, carefully manages his exhale without it sputtering into the coughs his rapidly beating heart want him to make. Evidently, Elias doesn’t smoke or approve of it, which makes Jon wonder if he simply comes out here to make such comments.

“I’ve been meaning to quit,” Jon shares a bit defensively, though it has been a half-hearted thought with even more abysmal attempts. He’d never really been one to handle stress well and seemed to come back to it no matter how many days he’d managed to avoid lighting one. It doesn’t help that in general his attempts to find anything of use or lucidity at the Institute have only ended in fairy tales and irritation.

“I can help, if you’d like,” Elias offers and there’s something in his tone Jon can’t identify that makes him uneasy. Reminds him of why exactly the remark he’d made managed to bother him.

Lately, if Jon isn’t mistaken, Elias has taken an interest in him. In his arrogance, he would like to think it had something to do with his work, though the reality is it’s doubtful anything he’s done as a mere researcher would be enough to catch the attention of the head the Institute. No, the exchanges they have more rely on things expressed during his initial interview that he’d put out of his mind. Considering how busy the man usually is, he hadn’t been sure whether to chalk up the interlude between their meetings to be one of sudden disinterest, or if he had been actually dealing with other matters. It comes as a strange relief that the latter appears true, though as usual, he is uncertain as to why.

Either way, needlessly, Jon has impressions on the mind. And while he does not believe in the idea of changing yourself for approval, he also can’t deny that it would be an utter shame to lose this man’s attention over something as simple as a cigarette. Against his better judgment, though, ‘Would it really be such a bad thing if he quit?’ Jon wonders—the stick in his hand steadily wasting away to ash.

“How do you propose to help?”  

Wordlessly, Elias holds a hand out, expectant. Jon stares at his hand, then up at him.

“May I have the rest of what you have on you? I wouldn’t be so cruel as you force you cold turkey quit as it isn’t always safe, but I can help in moderation.”

Hesitantly, Jon digs in his pocket and drags the pack out. He places it in Elias’s waiting palm, trying to ignore the momentary brush of their fingers. Next, he asks him about his habits. About how many does he burn through a day and when, before carefully counting out how many he thinks he should have between now and the next time they meet.

“I cannot make you stop entirely, but I would be delighted if you manage some restraint. Tomorrow, if there are leftovers you refrained from smoking, I have a surprise in mind. If you cannot manage it, well, then there’s always next time, but this is a good starting point wouldn’t you say?” Elias asks rhetorically, and Jon feels strange looking at his smile. Intrigued at what he possibly thinks would be a worthwhile surprise. He licks his lips and lets himself have a puff before the whole thing burns out, using the excuse that he needs to exhale to look away from Elias and his odd smile.

“I’ll do my best I suppose, if you’re that serious about it.”

“Excellent,” he hears Elias say, but doesn’t look at him, fearing what he might see.

                                                               -

Of the seven handed back to him, there’s only one he has to give. Jon had almost used that one too—forever a victim to sleepless nights and itching for something that might put him at ease.

Still, Elias placates him and they repeat the same exchange. Jon hands him his new pack, unopened, and Elias counts out the next set he’s allowed. It’s difficult to read his expression again as while he had at least one to give, something about the exchange still leaves Jon feeling like he’s disappointed him. Elias doesn’t say as much, but it strikes him like it’s true anyway.

“While your progress is slower than I might have anticipated, I’m a man of my word.”

He digs through a drawer in his desk momentarily, before bringing out a stack of papers.  

Jon stares at it suspiciously, unsure how it is much of a surprise at all. It mostly just looks like… work.

“Feel free to read it here or take it with you. It’s a copy anyway, so you may do what you like with it, but I think it may be of some interest.”

After another moment of hesitation, Jon takes the stapled packet, glancing over the front to confirm it is indeed a statement. He must make a face as Elias laughs.

“I promise it isn’t another assignment. I just would like you to read it and maybe share your thoughts.”

His eyes are already wanting to skim over what it is that Elias would think is interesting to him. With a stiff politeness that was beginning to feel silly given their current arrangement, Jon nods shuffling the papers closer to his chest and stands.

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Elias doesn’t betray another hint of what it might be and is suspiciously business like in his dismissal. Their meeting had hardly reflected that, but it isn’t something Jon intends to comment on. Whatever was going on, the answers might already be in his hands and with a bit of frustration, he knows he’ll have to wait until the evening to really dig into it. He can only hope next time he’ll garner some kind of understanding.  

                                                              -

He isn’t sure if he’s smoking because of what he read, or because he doesn’t want to see what else Elias has for him. Either way, by the time he’s crushed the butt of his last cigarette into the ashtray his stomach is swimming with a mixture of relief and regret. He’s lying a little when he says he doesn’t want to know more—it’s the whole reason he even started working at the Institute in the first place. A fact Elias apparently bothered to remember from his interview. It’s terrifying though, the reality it could be real and not simply a fabricated tale that has an easy to stomach explanation. Something he’s spent a long time trying to convince himself of, even while knowing himself the supernatural must exist.

Lying farther away on top of all those issues is the root of what started this all. He’s thoroughly swallowed his fear in smoke and will have no spare cigarettes to give tomorrow. It hasn’t done anything for how scared he feels, and worse he loathes the dread piling heavier at whatever signs of disappointment will be waiting on Elias’s face.

Or maybe, there won’t be anything there at all.

He still doesn’t know why Elias is doing all this, and he even admitted quitting won’t be easy.

It isn’t the first time he’s had a dream about the statements he’s investigated. Even if he steadfastly denies the claims and feels justified as he comes up with nothing for many of the cases assigned to him, certain instances in the investigation or in the initial tales themselves if the giver is a good storyteller are enough to get to him when he sleeps. He always feels a little silly for that in the morning—writing it off as an over active imagination and a life too focused on work.

Still, this dream surprises him for its sheer vividness compared to the others.

In front of him is a familiar parlor full of comfortable looking couches, some with hand-embroidered cushions, plants tastefully decorating its corners, and a vast amount of paintings taking up almost all the available space of the walls. He has never been in this room. Never seen it, but it’s nostalgic—the type of room you’d expect in a period piece drama or at a grandparents’ home.

The words filter in, and the scene shifts. There is a woman now seated at one of the settees, her gaze untrustingly glancing about the room. The room is empty otherwise, only with an entrance way into it from the front hall, and a side door leading to another part of the house.

The woman reaches for her purse, makes a move to open it before sighing and changing her mind.

She was running late. It was a bit odd, and I was starting to get a little antsy. I hate being in that room in general, but, well, it was hard to request waiting somewhere else politely. I mean the poor old woman was pretty much on her own—I just wanted to check in like I did every Tuesday afternoon, and then be on my way. Really there wasn’t anything wrong with it. When you got past the decorations… it was actually rather cozy.

Wildly, the woman twists around at the large family portrait hanging just behind her seat. There wasn’t anything particularly odd about it. A big family of six, stiff and bunched together, neither smiling nor frowning. Simply existing. Staring.

What I didn’t like was how narrow it was. How little space it felt like was actually in the room; and worse you… when you were in there by yourself, the pictures had a weird sense to them. I can’t explain it. It just felt like they were watching you.

She quickly looks away and takes a deep breath. Then, she stares directly ahead. Jon panics, feeling like she is now looking directly at him, but her expression quickly breaks down into anguish and terror. Fear clear across her face, she whips her head instead to the other side of the room now and fixates on a door there. Shakily, she raises and rushes toward it. The door hadn’t been there before, and the moment it closes, isn’t there at all.

You have to understand; I know it sounds crazy, but it was the only thing that felt right at the moment. I-I think I knew the door wasn’t there before. I had been in that room a million times before, I knew pretty much every inch of it because it was so horrible to be there, but that’s why I had to go through it. I just wanted to get away from all those creepy eyes staring at me—

Jon cannot see inside the door—Trisha Wellen was unable to describe properly or in any coherent manner what was beyond that door. Just that it felt like she was stuck there for a very long time, until suddenly she wasn’t several days later. What terrifies Jon more though is the undeniable truth that he had been one of those eyes behind the paintings, and despite knowing everything in her statement did nothing.

It was a dream. Ms. Wellen was shaken, given her statement, but it and the follow up were enough to scare him, clearly. The fact she has been listed missing for a little over a year as well doesn’t help matters. There is nothing he could have done to help that woman as the event in question happened two years ago and it was just a dream.

He is out of cigarettes and feels cold.

                                                              -

“Why did you give me this?” Jon starts their conversation, by dropping the statement back on Elias’s desk, maybe a tad harsher than intended. He doesn’t address the actual reason for these meetings first, and based on Elias’s expression, he finds that awfully amusing.

“Now then, irritability usually doesn’t crop up until after a few days of deprivation. I know you’re better than that Jonathan,” Elias tilts the conversation in a different direction purposefully. Jon feels pinned under those eyes, accusing him of weakness in what the other knows is an unfair assessment.

“You know exactly what has me ‘irritable’,” Jon starts, his eyes flicking away again, but only to land on a series of portraits of the previous heads of the Institute. He shivers involuntarily remembering the words that brought him in here. When he can look at Elias again the man is still staring at him as if sizing him up. It’s difficult to tell whether the reaction he’s displaying is one that feels actually reasonable or whether he’s somehow failed whatever test this was supposed to be.

“Please, sit,” he directs, the words feeling more like a command than a polite suggestion. Once Jon is obedient in the matter, he continues speaking.

“Let’s try this again. How are you feeling this morning, Jon?”

“I’m fine, just…” he almost admits he’s unnerved, maybe worried, “confused. I haven’t ever seen a case like this. It’s jarring to see something that might be credible I suppose, but who knows? I certainly have no way to contact Ms. Wellen about it. I can only assume it has some truth to it because I can’t fathom another reason you’d show me it.”

The why still lingers heavy in his throat, but considering Elias’s reaction when he’d opened with that he isn’t sure he’ll get that answer. From the way he’s looking at him, it must be true though, as frightening as that reality feels to accept.

“Does it discourage you?”

Jon isn’t sure which aspect of their arrangement Elias is referring to with his question. He was never particularly dead set on quitting smoking to begin with, merely went along with it out of curiosity, and the vague notion that he knows it would be better for him. If he’s talking about what he came here to find, then that’s a more complex answer.

He isn’t discouraged, so much as sent back spiraling to things he doesn’t want to admit. All along, he’s known that these things exist in the world and that even if his own encounter felt so brief, he couldn’t be the only one to have an experience like it. Denying that for so long simply felt easier. Bearable.

“No, no I need to know… just surprised to see something that didn’t feel fabricated.”

“I told you it would be a surprise. If you’re still interested, I assure you there are more in the Institute if you look hard enough. For now though, let’s get you sorted out.” Seamlessly, Elias changes the subject once again and waits patiently for the same exchange they’ve been making. He clicks his tongue when Jon has nothing to offer him from yesterday, but dutifully counts out the amount, taking one less than he’d given the day before, which Jon does not comment on.

“I understand why you felt it necessary to use them all, given how shocking this must be, but if you do wish to stop, best not to make a habit of it.” He’s trapped again by Elias’s eyes and he tries to squash down the definite sensation he’s disappointed him. Why that matters so much should be the more alarming question, but instead Jon quietly pockets the box again and chooses his words carefully.

“If I have more questions… will you answer them if I can keep up with it? Or was this the only surprise you had?” Jon asks, tone just slightly bordering shaky.

“You’ll just have to find out.” Elias answers him all pleasant looking smiles once more. “I believe they’re looking for you down in research, and I have scheduling to work out, so that will be all for now.”

Week one!

They say that when you quit smoking the first week is the hardest, well I’ve made it through the wilderness metaphorically speaking! For those of you who know me you know know that this is not my first attempt at quitting smoking 🚬 so this time I thought I’d try something a little different. For my first blog post I thought I’d share 5 things that have helped me to stay smoke free.

1) Sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴀ sᴀᴠɪɴɴɢ ᴊᴀʀ

I thought I’d share what had helped rather than share just the problems I had while attempting to quit smoking and to try and share things that other people might find helpful. I know that this sounds silly but it’s something that has a actually really helped me. This was not a planned quit smoking attempt at all in fact, I was walking through the town centre and I realised I only had one cigarette left out of my packet 20. I knew I had £15 in my purse so I walked towards the shop and was about to go in and buy more cigarettes but I managed to talk myself out of it 😱 there was this little voice in my head saying “no actually there’s better things you can spend your money on” so that was the day that I quit smoking. When I got home i put £12.62 of that £15 into a savings tin that I knew I couldn’t open and decided I would do that for every packet of cigarettes or pouch of tobacco that I choose not to buy. It helps even more to have a goal to work towards mine for example is a brand new carpet.

2) Rᴇᴀᴅ ᴀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ

I used to be a real book lover I’d read every chance I could get, when I woke up; when I got on the bus to work or college; on my breaks and when I got home. I got myself into a bit of of a reading slump lately, I’d keep making excuses like I’m too tired; I don’t have the time or I can’t be bothered I don’t know how this happened but I just stopped reading. Since I quit smoking I used my cigarette breaks at work as my reading breaks and I’d open my book I’d say it definitely made me feel a greater sense of satisfaction getting hooked on a book 📖 I’m currently reading a classic, Bram Stoker’s Dracula and am on page 309/454 only 5 chapters away from finishing it. I feel as though I’ve rediscovered my love of reading and actually spent hours reading and annotating the text. It definitely keeps your mind occupied and you don’t even think about smoking !

3) ǫᴜɪᴛ ᴄᴀғғᴇɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ

Are you crazy??!!🙈🤔 I know. You’ve already given up smoking cigarettes so why should you have to give up you’re favourite drinks too? it’s actually better because it’s proven that for someone who is trying to quit smoking that coffee or tea and alcohol are “triggers”. Personally I always enjoyed having a cigarette with my cup of coffee or before I had one I would have coffee so it makes sense to me that quitting caffeine will make my quit a lot easier. Also, you’re more likely to want something to fill up the gap where you would normally smoke and you don’t really want to be swapping one bad habit for another. This is wont help your health or finances in the long term. I have now been 8 days caffeine free and 7 days smoke free and although initially I felt a lack of energy and motivation; I actually feel like now I don’t need these to function properly when before I found myself unable to do anything until I had my morning coffee fix and my cigarette with it.

4) ᴛᴇʟʟ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs, ᴛᴇʟʟ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ

This is something that although really basic and is probably just common sense, I felt that it was something I needed to mention on my list because I know some people don’t tell anyone that they have quit smoking! Either they are afraid they are going to fail or they don’t want to tell their friends because they still smoke and there’s bound to be some judgement or peer pressure and they will just go back to smoking. This is a big NO. Tell everyone that you have quit smoking then they can support your journey- maybe they’ll even quit with you! I know that the first time I quit smoking I told a friend I was quitting and he offered me a cigarette I was trying so hard to be strong in my quit so I said no. Then he starts saying things like “nobody will ever know “ or “one won’t kill you” and he is actually rationalising it for me until I eventually caved and accepted the cigarette, anyway he and I are no longer friends I realise that anyone who isn’t willing to support me quitting smoking isn’t worth being friends with. In my last attempt to quit smoking I was visiting my Nanna and she made me a coffee and offered me a cigarette, I didn’t want to tell her that I had quit smoking because I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable smoking around me or for me to ask her not to smoke in her own house. I took the cigarette and smoked it and more and that’s how I fell off the bandwagon and started smoking again. Lesson learned always tell everyone that you have quit smoking. You don’t want to say things like “I’m quitting smoking “ that gets you in the wrong mindset and people can try to rationalise it for you that you can still have one more and I think of it as you telling yourself that you are doing it in the future or that it’s ok for you to have the occasional cigarette. That’s just not good enough personally I tell myself I have quit smoking because then I know that smoking is a thing of the past.

5) ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇsᴇᴀʀᴄʜ

Researching the benefits of quitting smoking can help you feel more motivated and committed to your quit, you’ll know what the long term health benefits of quitting are and how smoking affected your health as well as those around you. Smoking affects your breathing, your pulse rate,your energy levels, your circulation, your teeth and gums and so much more. For more information ℹ️ on how smoking affects your health please refer to https://www.nhs.co.uk/smoke free/why-quit/smoking-health-problems

I love the NHS website it’s full of helpful tools and advice for anyone who is trying to quit smoking, this blog is just about my personal experience with quitting, the ups and downs and sharing things I think you might find helpful not just sharing the problems I had with quitting. You should also research methods of quitting smoking such as NRT,cold turkey, vaping, or prescription medications.

Moonbeams and Ridinghoods Chp 3

Pairing: werewolf!Haz/reader

Summary: first dates are great...until they’re not

Warnings: None

Words: 2800+

A/N: someday my laptop will be fixed and I’ll be able to make a cut and quite jamming up your feeds. Until than I’m impatient. Thank you to my favorite child @aossi for putting up with me while I write this. Also thanks again to @sandersonosterfield for the mood board.

Harrison texts you daily and it becomes the highlight of your day opening each message to see what he has sent. He’s totally random and you’re on board for every minute of it.

On Monday you get a picture of a burger around noon and a picture of his roommates feet at dinner. When you question the feet he explains that his roommate, Tom, had the grossest feet imaginable and he had to share the horror with someone else. He segways into telling you about his other roommate, Emily, and their friends that spent an inordinate amount of time at their place.

The surgeon making rounds through the department gives you a raised eyebrow and asks about the smile your sporting. You merely shrug and school your features. When you get home you call him and he asks about your day. He sits quietly, makes all the right agreeable sounds as you recount funny stories from the day. When you whine dramatically about needing to have some fun he teases lightly.

“Well lucky you, is already scheduled for a coffee date with yours truly.”

He’s really too cute for words and you reinforce that, yes coffee with him was a thing that would be happening. You can hear his grin through the phone.

You send him a pic of your sad cafeteria sandwich on your lunch break Tuesday. The turkey and cheese looks rather anemic and you find you just have to share it. He sends a gym selfie that makes you feel all kinds of ways when you ask what he’s up to. Sweat clings to his brow in the mirrors reflection. His shirt is soaked and his hands are taped as if he’s just gone a couple rounds. A smooth smile is plastered across his face as a curly mopped brunette poses up behind him. You get a topless one after that. The view down his pecs and over abs is truly obscene. He shoots back a cursory ‘LOL’ when you remind him you’re not supposed to be looking at porn on hospital hours. When you get back to your apartment you strip out of your scrubs and change into your own gym clothes. He seems to like the spandex shorts and tank top you’re sporting if the howling wolf emojis are anything to go by.

By the time Wednesday rolls around you are so primed to see him you’re absolutely vibrating. Picking up your phone half a dozen times, you have to remind yourself that it’s not cool to look too excited but you can’t help it. You craved more than text messages and phone calls were giving you.

A chill is in the air so you opt for jeans and a trusty pair of combat boots you’d picked up at a yard sale years ago. You layer a loose cream knit sweater over a black tank. The collar hangs loosely off your left shoulder as you look at yourself over in the mirror one last time. Neither of you had said this was a date but you’re treating it like one. It had been so long since you had genuinely been excited to meet up with a guy that you refuse to call it anything but.

You give the taxi driver the address Harrison had sent you earlier in the day. You watch the scenery change from tightly packed apartment buildings to manicured sidewalks and decadent older homes. You’re not familiar with the area at all but it doesn’t stop you from taking in the sights. You begin to wonder if you’re under dressed as the driver pulls up to a stop in front of a cozy looking cafe. You slide him a wad of bills and a smile before your eyes are catching on the man you’d come to see. He’s worth openly drooling over, dressed in dark slacks and a button up with the first pair of buttons undone. His dirty blonde locks have been tamed and gelled into place and he’s wearing a pair of glasses that only add to his handsome appearance.

His eyes dance over you and you soak up the attention. He pulls you in for a quick side hug.

“Really glad you came out.” He says opening the door for you. You can’t help but ducking your head. You can hear him chuckling behind you, “don’t go getting shy on me now, darling.” He teases and you turn your smile up at his unspoken challenge.

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his hand rests across your lower back as he guides you to a table near the window. The sun is shining in, chasing away the bit of cold you’d felt between the cab and the cafe. You move to sit but he steps in a pulls your chair out for you. You’d thought maybe that was something that only happened in movies and romance novels. You whisper a soft ‘thank you’ as you sit down and he slides it back in. You must look confused because he cocks his head as he sits.

“What?” He questions, leaning back languidly in his seat.

You spin the bracelet on your wrist, an old nervous habit. You watch the beads shimmer as the light travels over them with each twirl around your wrist.

“Nothing. Just trying to figure you out.”

Harrison leans forward, forearms pressing into the table, “how much time have you got?”

He flashes that smile that made your stomach flip when you’d first met and, like a trained animal, it does it again.

The smug bastard has got to know what the grin does. There’s no way he hasn’t used it before.

The server comes over and deposits some menus and dutifully reads off the days specials.You watch Harrison’s polite smile and well practiced manners put on display. Somewhere along the line someone had drilled them into his head and you appreciate their effort.

You roll your eyes playfully as his attention comes back to you and the conversation at hand.

“What can I say? I know I’ve got layers.” He says with a lazy shrug.

“Like an onion?”

His laugh is a low rumble. “Just like an onion.”

You order a short time later, you get a coffee and a danish while Harrison order his drink and turkey and Swiss on a croissant.

When it comes out you wish you’d have ordered it. It looks amazing.

“Not quite what they’re serving at the hospital.” He laughs, offering you a bite.

“I couldn’t, that’s your lunch.” You mutter with a bit of embarrassment.

“Ah, come on now. I insist.” He slides the plate over to you and watches intently as you take a bite. Your eyes close and you hum happily. It may be one of the single best bites of food you’ve ever had.

“Good, right?” He laughs. You nod while you chew. “My friend, Em...the roommate I told you about? Well, this is her place.”

You rest your coffee cup between your hands, sipping contentedly. “You’ll have to give her my compliments. Are you close?” You question. The way he spoke about his friends was unlike anyone else you’d ever heard.

“Well, yeah, we’re like… I guess the best explanation is we’re like family.” You see him choosing his words carefully.

“That has to be nice.”

“It is, I mean I’m close with my parents and sister too but to have the boys and Emily in my life day in and day out...I’m sure you're probably thinking it’s odd…”

You shake your head quickly, “No not at all! I mean, I think it sounds really nice. To know there’s always someone there? Isn’t that kind of the dream?”

Harrison’s look is assessing, like you’ve quickly become the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “What about you? It has to be hard being away from everyone, your family and friends?”

Looking down into your cup you watch the brown liquid swirl with the gentle tip of your hands. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you think.

“I can see the gears turning.” He says collecting your attention again. “Why?”

“Just trying to figure out if I should lay the tragic backstory out?”

“Tragic backstory? We all have them don’t we? Tell me.” It’s not a question. You’ve noticed that Harrison did that a lot. He didn’t so much as ask questions as he made gentle demands of you. You shrug, letting your eyes skip out the window and onto the street. Dead leaves, crisp and dry, are blowing down the sidewalk, skittering into view than back out again.

“It was always just me and my Mom growing up. My dad...wasn’t ready to be a father.” She can hear that line in her mother’s voice. A truth she’d been told since she’d been old enough to ask about him. “She got remarried the year before I graduated.” Harrison nods for you to continue as your eyes drift back over to him. “I guess it was kind of her second chance at a family. I’ve got a pair of twin sisters now. They’re three. I’m not really close with them though.”

His fingers brush against yours when you set your cup down.

“Why’s that?”

“I just kind of feel like I don’t belong there? Maybe it doesn’t make sense. We love each other but it just…” You end with a shrug. “And friends? Life happened and we moved away and grew apart.” It’s not the full story but it’s all your willing to divulge. He’s got a small frown marring his features when you look back up and you feel a flush of embarrassment for oversharing.

“Haz!” A bright voice interrupts any apology you might offer as a brunette in an apron walks over. Harrison’s eyes light up as she gets closer and he stands to wrap her in a hug. He turns to you after a moment, arm still wrapped around her waist, as he introduces you.

“Y/n, this is Emily, the brilliant woman I was telling you about.” The casual affection between the two is apparent.

Emily rolls her eyes at the obvious flattery.

“Oh hush, Haz. Who’ve you brought by?” She questions him not looking away from you.

“Em, this is y/n.”

You’d wondered if the knowing look in her eyes had meant anything but when she claps once excitedly you realize that Harrison must have mentioned you to her.

“I’m so glad to meet you.” She enthuses dropping in a chair next to you. You offer your hand politely and she takes it and pulls you in for a hug. You glance at Harrison awkwardly. He’s smothering a laugh, dropping back into his own seat as Emily lets you go.

“This prat has talked about you nonstop I hope you know.” You spare him a glance and he simply shrugs, his blue eyes dancing merrily.

“I’m so glad you brought her!” Emily says glancing at her friend. “What did you get? The danish” She makes a tsking sound and glares at Harrison.

“Why didn’t you get her something good. The danish are rubbish on good days.“ she explains. “Not my best work but a work in progress…”

You smother your own smile. Emily seems to have enough energy to power the better part of London and it’s very easy to see why Harrison had spoken highly of her. If all his friends were like this you really did have to envy him for it.

“Boss?” A tall server shyly interrupts the brunette and she glances over quickly giving a studying look. “We’ve got an issue with the oven.”

Em huffs quietly, “If it’s not one thing it’s always another.” She glances back at the pair of you as she waves the server off.

“Haz, you need to bring her by the house.” She scolds lightly and Harrison gives a sage nod. “And y/n, get my number from the div here and call me, we’ll do lunch.”

Before you can do as much as concur she’s up and moving through the small dining room and into the back.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes, “Is she always like that?” You question.

“Mostly. She has her down days but with Emily, what you see is what you get.” The two of you relax back into conversation. Refills come for your drinks without asking and a takeout container full of goodies miraculously appears as Harrison pays the tab.

“That means she likes you.” He says gesturing to full styrofoam container.

“She doesn’t even know me?” You mumble a little embarrassed by the show of generosity.

“She’s a good judge of character. So am I.”

He’s got you in the passenger seat of his car again. He thought you looked good there, like you were meant to be there. Harrison tries to shake off the feeling. Too much. Too fast.

“Why’d Emily call you Haz” You ask as he focuses on the road.

“All my friend do, really. Just a nickname.” He explains. You sit quietly for a moment.

“Haz…” you try the name out. The soft way you say it makes something inside him burn bright. He wouldn’t mind hearing you say it in another situation. He tamps back those thoughts as he reaches your place and parks.

You’re biting your lip again and he has the urge to lean over and kiss you, to soothe the swollen skin with his own. As you unbuckle he shuts the car off. Your questioning look makes him chuckle.

“It’s not a date if I don’t walk you to your door, yeah?” He enjoys your shy smile.

“So this is a date.” You mumble. “Good”.

“Very.” He adds getting out and moving around the front of the car to open your door for you. You readily lace your fingers between his as he helps you out and you don’t let go as you make your way up the steps.

“You’re going to spoil me with all this attention.” You sound serious as you reach your door and he uses your joined hands to tip your chin up to look at him.

“It’s my job to spoil pretty girls.” He explains softly. Your lips part delicately and he watches with fascination as your tongue wets your lips.

“Do you do it often? Spoil pretty girls?”

“No, it’s been a while since I’ve seen one.” You take a small step closer to him and he pulls your hand up, brushing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. This close, he can hear your heart pounding in your chest. He can feel the soft rush of breath from your lungs.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He warns and you nod, rising up in your toes to meet him as his lips smooth over yours. It’s tentative, a chaste kiss that’s over too soon as he pulls back, enjoying the way your eyes flutter open. But then something changes and you’ve let go of his hand, moving to fist his shirt and pull him back down. He doesn’t fight it, not when your teeth clack together or even when you lose your balance and his hands fall to your hips to steady you. He gives back every ounce of want you pour into him, growling lowly when your teeth nip his lower lip and quickly regaining control, pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You open for him and he luxuriates in the feel of you, the taste of coffee and sweets left on your tongue, the soft whine you make when his tongue strokes against yours. The wolf inside him all but howls with delight. The beast, usually so quiet and docile, wants you. It wants Harrison to lay claim to you for their own. It’s a first. The sudden clarity of it is like a pail of cold water splashed over him. He nearly stumbles back, trying to hide the sudden shock he knows is written across his face. Your lips are swollen from his kiss and you have a nearly drunk look on your face that quickly turns to confusion. Harrison feels so many things in that moment and they are all far more serious than the passing fancy he’d known he’d had for you.

“I had a great time today, Haz.” You say softly, your eyes not meeting his. You pull away from him his hands releasing your hips suddenly, only then realizing how tightly he’d been holding you, hoping he hadn’t hurt you, hadn’t left any marks. You rise up to him one more time and he’s nearly trembling as you press a soft kiss to his cheek, his arms limply at his sides. You disappear into your flat before he can say anything and he’s left staring at your closed door. His hand runs roughly through his hair before he turns and heads back to the car.

He stares straight ahead out the window, the engine growling softly. That other part of him, the wolf had never made himself known like it had tonight. It leaves him feeling unsure and at a loss.

“Fuck.”