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serverusslaype · 7 months

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Shameless, pt. 11

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

guys im running out of gifs to use ffs

despite that, HELLO!! i am more than 100% certain that you adorable feral little cretins are going to love this chapter holy fk. like i'm actually so excited to see your reactions/comments LOLL

i apologise for the long, long wait, however i wanted to perfect this part, it was really important that i did, otherwise it would be a waste, and kind of cringe. i won't keep you any longer <3

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy this!! and again, thank you soooo much for all your replies and reblogs and likes they just make me smile all the time, i really cannot believe that people like this, i'm still flabbergasted.

warnings: 18+ further down, minors DNI after the big red *'s. i also put a sign to say where it ends if you're not comfortable reading such things!

if i was any good at coding i'd cover it up, you know how people do on discord, like that spoiler thing. but alas, i am but a technophobe.

(this song is very important during that certain scene so if you will, please listen to it as you read <;3)

onwards and upwards...

Severus stood beside Dumbledore, his hands hanging at his sides, fingers fidgeting thoughtfully at the seams of his his black slacks. Before he was able to speak a reply to the Headmaster, a voice he had hoped he'd never hear again pierced the blanketed silence in the Great Hall. For a moment, both his heart and stomach dropped as he turned his head toward the irritating voice, jaw clenching almost immediately.

"Y/N!" None other than Benjamin Bluewater had called out, his ridiculously well-groomed hair bouncing as he jogged towards you. Severus felt a burning blaze of rage prickle his skin as his eyes observed how Bluewater embraced your rigid form, clearly in shock at his sudden appearance. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ben-" Severus heard you gasp as Bluewater pulled away from you, his hands flying up to cradle your cheeks intimately. Something Severus had done less than an hour ago. The jealousy that was raging inside of Snape was lethal, and he was desperately fighting the urge to rip you from Bluewater's slimy grasp and tuck you within the safe haven of his arms.

Your fearful eyes met Snape's icy ones, setting a kaleidoscope of butterflies free in his stomach. He could tell you were quietly begging him for help, however, he refused to get involved. The last thing he wanted to do was seem suspicious and perhaps trigger an unnecessary reaction from Bluewater. Snape remembered how volatile the boy could be, he served enough detentions with him. In fact, that was one thing that Severus was worried about. He wasn't sure if you knew about his bad temper.

"Are you alright? I came at once when I heard about Black getting into Hogwarts." Bluewater said, his overly-concerned voice dripping with worry. Something didn't sit right with Severus as he watched the two of you. Why didn't Bluewater visit when you had been attacked by a dementor? How does that not warrant a visit but this does? A deep, frustrated sigh left Snape's nose as Ben's thumbs brushed against the apples of your cheeks. Your hands reluctantly rose to sit atop of his forearms, silently soothing his worries.

"Wha-what are you... how...?" You stuttered, cheeks ablaze. You had to take a moment to compose yourself, and it didn't help that Severus's fiery eyes were burning holes into you. Inhaling slowly, you spoke again. "What are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

"Well, it helps when you work at the Ministry of Magic," Bluewater shrugged, a proud, smug smirk teasing his lips. His hands fell from your cheeks and settled on your waist, squeezing you a tad. You tensed up again as you glanced at Severus, your heart going a million miles an hour. Bluewater frowned as he followed your eyes, a flash of surprise crossing his features as he finally noticed the two of you weren't alone. "Erm... Headmaster, Professor... Snape." He greeted awkwardly, offering a nod. Snape wasn't keen on acknowledging him, however, Dumbledore kept it polite, smiling at the boy.

"A lovely surprise, Mr Bluewater." Dumbledore said. It had sounded sarcastic, but that was unintentional.

Severus stared at Bluewater with cold eyes, his gaze slowly falling to where his hands sat comfortably on your waist, taunting him. His mouth twitched bitterly. "How you've grown, Mr Bluewater," Snape commented slyly, his sharp eyes flicking back up to meet Bluewater's. "It feels like only yesterday you were causing chaos here at Hogwarts. More specifically in my classroom." He drawled, eyes narrowing in contempt.

An incredulous huff slipped from Bluewater's nose and a sarcastic grin broke out on his face; his grip on your waist tightening. The jealous fire in Severus exploded. Clearly, there was unresolved conflict between these two.

"I see you've remained the same, Snape." He quipped sharply, tongue like a sword. Severus turned his back to you and Bluewater, his shoulders stiffening as he muttered something to Dumbledore.

There was an awkward silence that fell upon the four of you.

You turned to Ben, keeping your voice low. "Look, I think it's best if you leave." You muttered, an uncomfortable expression slipping onto your face. You nibbled on your bottom lip.

"I'm not leaving until I know where Black is, I need to keep you safe." Ben laughed dryly, his eyes narrowing at you in disbelief. Oh no, no-no-no. He had to leave, there was no way he could stay.

"I'm perfectly safe here," you attempted to reassure him, "I'm surrounded by some of the most talented witches and wizards to ever exist, Ben." An incredulous chuckle fell from your lips as you spoke, a little surprised that he deemed Hogwarts unsafe. How could it be unsafe when Dumbledore was here? Despite that, you couldn't risk him noticing the tension between you and Snape, it wouldn't look good on either of you.

He looked at you with a stiff expression, his gaze flicking to where Snape and Dumbledore stood, eyes hardening as he stared. You glanced away awkwardly.

"I'll stay here until I deem it so, Y/N." Ben said rather sternly, making your brows shoot up in shock. Since when was he like this? This was not the Ben you knew.

"Sorry?" You choked.

"The Ministry gets the final say, irregardless of what you or Hogwarts thinks." Ben tilted his head at you as he stared down at you. "I'm staying." His serious tone of voice made you back down and nod, your lips pursed. There was nothing you could say or do to change his mind.

Shit.

Shit, indeed.

Two knocks sounded at Snape's door, and he audibly sighed, a little vexed that someone had chosen to come and bother him when he'd just settled down - his raging jealousy had finally subdided after two hours of brooding in his office.

"Come in." Snape grunted from his desk, piles of parchment and books surrounding him messily. Usually he was neat, organised - but tonight was rather exasperating. He just about managed to watch another man with his hands all over you.

"Severus," Minerva McGonagall's voice made Snape's head snap up, a startled look adopting his features. He definitely was not expecting the Head of Gryffindor House to be knocking at his door. "I'm sorry to impede, however, I wanted to chat with you. Regarding Y/N." She sighed, her wrinkled lips pouting. His body suddenly felt heavier.

"What about Professor L/N?" Severus asked curtly, looking back down at the pile of assignments in front of him like he had no interest in the subject.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Severus," Minerva said, a stern look taking hold of her face. Snape's jaw ticked, his fingers stiffening in irritation. He sighed and glanced back up at the older witch, waiting for her to continue her lecture. "You need to be careful. She's just a girl." She said softly and stepped forwards a tad, linking her fingers together in front. Why was he getting lectured when he's been the one trying to push you away? Well, he was. Now, all he wanted to do was pull you close to him.

"This is no concern of yours, Minerva." Severus's brows furrowed harshly, his voice clipped and cold. Minerva's eyes narrowed; his tone rubbing her the wrong way.

"It concerns me when it starts to affect my colleagues." Minerva retorted, her patience wearing thin. She knew this was going to be a hard conversation, especially with someone like Severus. "I just want you to consider things before you cross that line, Severus. This isn't... wise."

It isn't wise? Well, who would've thought that? Not me, apparently, Severus growled in his mind, sighing heavily through his nostrils as he stared at Minerva.

"You think I don't know that?" Severus groaned, shutting his eyes as he reached up to massage his temples. He felt a headache coming on; all this stress wasn't good for him.

There was several seconds of quiet before Minerva spoke again, voice soft. "Do you care for her?"

He kept silent once again.

Minerva felt for Severus, she knew what it was like to care for someone and to have to push them away. In fact, it felt horribly and hauntingly familiar. This was like a walk down memory lane for her. Her head tilted slightly, her eyes softening as she stared at the Potions Master who had his eyes glued to his desk, palms splayed out atop of it as he intensely read through an essay. "I do not want your pity, Minerva," Severus hissed, his head snapping up, a face full of anger, "I have walked down this road before, and I know how it ends. So please, save your sorry for someone else."

Minerva was so used to Snape's flick-of-a-switch emotions that she hardly flinched at his sudden outburst. "Alright." A soft sigh left her as she glanced away from him, her fingers flexing. There was nothing left to say, she knew that Severus knew the risks with you. And you knew the risks with him. For now, she could only let things play out, she wasn't going to play God. If the two of you wanted to do it, who was she to stop it?

"I have a lot of work to complete." Severus grunted, his shoulders hunching up as he sat closer to his desk, burying his nose further into the parchment. Minerva exhaled softly through her nostrils and her lips pouted together again. She blinked, turning around to leave.

As her fingers grasped the rickety door handle, she looked over her shoulder at Snape. "Should you and Y/N choose to take such a risk, Severus," she began, earning another exhausted sigh from him, "don't break her heart. She doesn't deserve to go through that pain. Not at such a young age."

Severus's eyes faltered a tad as he glazed over the messy handwriting laced upon the parchment sat in front of him, as if it were goading him. His breath hitched slightly at her words. Minerva had a point. A very, irritatingly valid point. Severus cared for you - a lot. However, now he found himself questioning whether it was enough - whether he was enough for you. He couldn't pour his whole self into a relationship with you if it wasn't that - his whole self. Were you better off with Bluewater? He could probably treat you better than Severus ever could. Bluewater was young, handsome, somewhat smart... he also had a very good job at the Ministry... Severus was but a teacher, and he was old. Why would you ever settle for someone like him when a boy like Bluewater existed?

The click of his door told him that Minerva had left. Severus buried his face in his hands, his heart twisting and knotting itself as it yearned for you.

Rolling over in your bed, your unwearied eyes skimmed your darkened room, landing on the clock that was hung on the wall. Almost eleven o'clock at night. Ben stirred beside you, the bed creaking and groaning as he shuffled to right, away from you, burying his cheek in the pillow. You glanced at him and sighed, your mind wandering to the thought of Severus. You wondered what he was doing right now. Was he awake or asleep? No, he was definitely awake, that man never slept.

Severus.

Gods, you adored that man. You weren't exactly sure what it was that drew you to him, but perhaps it was just his aura; it was so dark, mysterious. The way the two of you bantered so easily, the conversation flowed like a river and it felt natural, whereas, with Ben... it was... well, it just felt artificial - forced, almost. It wasn't a secret that the chemistry and tension between you and Severus was incredibly palpable - even Minerva had noticed, and suddenly that made you panic - what if Ben notices? Other teachers? The students had even noticed last year when Severus had helped you up the steps when duelling Lockhart. He won't notice, will he? No, he won't be here long enough to.

Hopefully.

You rolled over in your bed again and noticed that Ben had turned back towards you, so the two of you were face to face now. You tucked your hands up and underneath your chin, allowing yourself to stare at his features in the dark. As you laid there, staring, breathing soft and slow, your heart skipped a beat as he shifted slightly; the shadow that was cast against his face suddenly transforming him intosomeone else. Suddenly, he'd grown long, obisidian black hair that framed his face perfectly, his basic nose had become hooked and prominent, his cheekbones turned more defined.

You sucked in a sharp, yet soft breath - careful to keep quiet so you didn't wake Ben - your skin prickling with goosebumps. Was this how hung up you were on Severus? So much so that if you stared too long at someone, they'd turn into him?

Your hand slowly rose to drag itself against your face. Glancing at the clock again, you knew you weren't falling asleep any time soon. You'd been laid there for at least two or so hours, tossing and turning, begging for your brain to shut off so you could perhaps get some sort of shut-eye. So, you chose to get out of bed. Flipping open the duvet, the biting cold of your room enveloped you; a chill shooting down your figure. You shivered slightly as you sat up and twisted yourself on your bum so your legs hung down over the side of the bed. It creaked slightly as you leant forwards to put your slippers on, prompting you to quickly glance behind you to check if it woke Ben - thankfully, it didn't. With a quick exhale of relief, you spun stepped out of bed and padded quietly over to your sofa where your favourite comfy, deep green cardigan was resting over the arm of it.

You picked it up and slipped it on, wrapping the warm, soft and cosy garment around yourself. Headed towards your door, you threw once last look at Ben and clicked open your door, shutting it calmly, making your way down to the one place you only wanted to go at this time of night.

The mossy, damp smell of the dungeons invaded your nostrils angrily, almost making you cough. You forgot how bad the smell could get down here during the autumn and winter months. The cool chill seeped through your wool cardigan, making you pull it tighter against your frame, hurriedly trying to keep every bit of warmth around you before it escaped.

As you neared that certain door, you lingered by it, raising your knuckles hesitantly.

With a stern sigh, you knocked, and awaited his usual grunt of acknowledgement.

"Come in." Came an annoyed tone from the inside just as you expected. You bit the inside of your cheek as you creaked open the door and slipped inside.

"Erm, hi," You squeaked out, closing the door shut behind you and pressing your back against it, staring awkwardly at Severus, who was still sat behind his desk, head down. "What are you doing up so late?" The sound of your voice made him look up, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I could ask you the same thing, Miss L/N," Severus mused. You couldn't help but smile coyly at him, padding forwards to move closer, your skin tingling with anticipation. "So, what brings you here?" Severus asked, his voice curious, yet there was also a hint of coldness to it. You assumed it was because he was tired - or at least hoped it was that.

"I couldn't sleep." You hummed, folding your arms against your body, the silk skirt of your yellow nightdress shimmering in the low, amber light. Severus found himself glimpsing down at your garment; the sheen of the smooth, rich fabric catching his attention. Your cheeks suddenly simmered from the way his eyes glazed over you.

He looked back up at you. "So, you chose to bother me instead?" Severus quirked a brow.

"Precisely." You smiled bashfully, a quiet laugh slipping from your mouth as you rocked back and forth on your heels, your eyes leaving his to glance nervously around his gloomy classroom.

"How lucky I am." He said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. Your smile stayed on your face as you rolled your eyes, stomach flipping at his voice.

"It feels weird that almost a year ago, we were in here, brewing that Mandrake potion together." You commented as your eyes fell on the exact desk the two of you had stood at.

Severus's eyes followed yours. "Indeed," he spoke, gazing back at you as you were distracted, taking a moment to admire you. His heart skipped a beat as the corners of your lips quirked upwards into another sheepish smile. Though, he soon felt indifferent to it as the thought of Bluewater slipped into his mind. "That was also the time we spoke about... your friend." Severus added, tutting at the end as if he had to force himself to spit that word out.

"Oh, right, yeah," you said awkwardly, clearing your throat, "you two still seem to absolutely despise each other." You looked at Severus, a rush of butterflies surging through you as you found his inquisitive eyes already glued to you.

Severus only grunted in response, clearly unwilling to talk about Ben. His body stiffened and his eyes had hardened. "Who would have thought that he'd come back to haunt me later on." He huffed, voice soaked in sarcasm. You had to force yourself to keep a straight face, unsure of how he'd react if a smile broke out on your face. You didn't exactly want to get into an argument right now. "I was foolish to think that he'd had enough causing me grief every single period that we shared."

"He was just a boy back then." An amused hum left your lips, though Severus didn't share the same outlook. His face had become stony again, unfeeling.

"He is still a boy now." Severus spat, like the idea of Ben was poison in his mouth. "He's young, barely twenty-three. He has a lot to learn."

"Am I just a girl to you, then?" You tilted your head at Severus, a tiny smile picking at the corner of your lips. You were twenty-two, almost twenty-three - a whole lot younger than Severus.

He stayed silent for a moment, staring at you, studying your gleeful little face. You suddenly felt a little vulnerable and so you averted your eyes to the ground, your face hot and embarrassed.

"Far from it." He sighed, eyes still glued on you. No, you were so much more to him than you could imagine. He couldn't tell you that though. Not when you had a chance at true happiness with someone that suited you better than an old, ugly git such as himself. "You're a grown woman, you've proven that." His reply had you shocked. You were not expecting such a response, in fact, you were actually expecting a dig, or even a petty insult. Your stomach felt a little heavier as you frowned at him, your eyes gently and slowly dissecting his worn features.

"Oh?" Your voice slipped up an octave as you were caught a little off-guard. "What, err, makes you say that?"

"I don't think I need to explain my reasoning. You're an intelligent woman, no need to spoon-feed you." Severus said simply with a slow blink, his glittering black eyes staring into yours, prompting your cheeks to burn even hotter. You forgot how beautifully hypnotising those two pools of inky-black were as you stared into them, almost losing yourself again.

"It feels weird to hear you compliment me." A gentle laugh left your lips. Severus's own lips tugged upwards slightly, the smallest hint of a smile appearing on his usually-cold face. A comfortable, yet partially awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. You stepped forwards once more, shuffling closer to Severus's desk, almost a foot away from him now. You looked down at the piles of assignments in front of him, curious. "May I?" You asked quietly, gesturing to them. He nodded.

You picked one up and began to read.

'Amortentia is the strongest known love potion in the world. Amor is a Latin word meaning ''Love'', it is also the name of the Roman goddess of love. ''Tentia'' is the Latin for ''held''. It makes the drinker become infatuated and obsessed.'

"I remember this," you smiled, eyes still glued to the parchment, "fourth years, correct?" You looked back to Severus, who was currently staring at you with such soft eyes that you almost melted right on the spot. You had to clear your throat to attempt to compose yourself, though it was truly in vain. It hadn't helped.

"Correct." He muttered, still staring at you, inducing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your breath hitched slightly as you gripped the parchment tighter, never breaking contact with his eyes. A sharp pain suddenly shot through your finger.

"Ouch," You gasped, the essay falling to the ground as you let go of it, rushing to grab your injured finger. Severus's brows furrowed at you.

"Are you alright?" He cast a glimpse at your finger that you were now squeezing tight, a tiny spot of blood beginning to dribble down it.

"Mhm, just a cut, I think I accidentally cut myself on something that was stuck to the paper." You laughed awkwardly, a little embarrassed as you flipped it over to see a shard of glass stuck to it in a sticky substance. You placed the parchment back onto his desk and looked down at your finger. A scarlet liquid was beginning to ooze out, and fast. You exhaled, feeling a little woozy. Blood was never your strong suit - as a matter of fact, you hated it. The sight of it always made you feel so lightheaded.

Severus noticed your unusual behaviour and quickly rose from his seat, rushing to your side. "Let me," He sighed softly, his hands taking ahold of yours, an electric jolt shooting through you. Your breath hitched once more as you glanced up at him, your wide, doe-like eyes meeting his sparkling obsidian ones. Severus felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment. He was trapped in your eyes, the buzz filling his body up like a drug. You drew him in so easily, and it didn't help that you were excruiatingly even more beautiful up close. The moonlight did you no justice in that greenhouse.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes from yours, he reluctantly looked back down to your injured finger, retrieving his wand from his sleeve. The moment he'd taken your hand in his, his mind went insane. There was no other feeling like it. Merlin, he wished he could experience that moment all over again.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, voice quiet, aiming the tip of his wand over the cut. You hadn't looked away from him once.

"No." You whispered. Severus's head shot up, his worried eyes meeting yours instantly. A warmth spread throughout his body, engulfing him. The two of you were so close, sheer milimetres apart. So close that if one of you leaned forwards even the tiniest amount, the tips of your noses could touch. He needed to stop getting himself into these situations with you, he wasn't going to get over you if you kept ending up inches apart.

His hot breath was on familiar territory again, tickling your pink cheeks, caressing your jaw. Like you were pulled forwards, you found yourself gradually leaning toward him with parted lips, testing the water as you brushed the tip of your nose against his larger one; soft eyes flicking between his lips and his two pools of black. You hesitated, waiting for Severus to respond, your heart thundering against your ribs like a starved lion locked within a cage.

His wand-holding hand faltered slightly, the tip tickling your palm as it grazed your skin; your creeping presence sending his own heart racing. A soft gasp left you as it touched your hand. Severus's mind was fighting desperately for him to pull away, to save you and him the heartache. Perhaps months ago, he'd listen. However, having you so close to him, so vulnerable and soft-looking, he couldn't help himself. Against the wishes of his mind, he tipped his head forwards with half-lidded eyes, nudging the side of your nose with his. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to pull away, to push you away to spare his heart. He knew he wouldn't be able to deal with the aftermath if you suddenly decided one day that he wasn't enough for you anymore. However, he decided that you were entirely worth the risk in this current moment.

You swallowed and allowed a hand to slip up onto his chest, your fingers splaying out slightly across the broad area. With a slow, controlled inhale, your eyes fluttered open to look up at his through your lashes. His tongue poked out sheepishly, wetting his lips as the two of you stared at one another, waiting for the other to make the first move.

He shuffled forwards once more, your lids fluttering shut as Severus pressed a soft and slow kiss against your lips. It was gentle, sweet and reserved. Tender, tickling you like butterfly wings. A warmth bloomed in your chest and your body leaned in instinctively towards his, silently begging him for more. As Severus pulled away, your eyes were still shut.

"Kiss me again," you whispered, "please."

The last word was all the encouragement he needed from you.

Severus leaned in once more, pressing another gentle kiss against your lips, another buzz of electrifying warmth sweeping through the two of you. It suddenly felt as if the world had stopped turning, like you'd been shot into another dimension as Severus held you close, his cool skin a great contrast against your burning skin. Your shallow breaths hitched once more as he sheathed his wand back up his sleeve, a hand coming to rest tenderly against your cheek; cradling your face like it was the most precious thing in the world as he kissed you. A part of you was melting at how gentle and soft he was being with you, and the other, wilder part was begging him to deepen the kiss; to just take control of you and show you how much you truly meant to him.

Your cardigan had slipped off of your shoulder as you leaned into his tender touch, exposing your skin to the chilly, damp air of his classroom sending a shivering chill through your body. Your other hand quickly snaked up his strong chest to meet your opposing one. After a moment, they found themselves nestled around his neck, a speck of blood staining his white collar from your finger as you grazed past it. Severus's other hand swiftly made its way to your waist and pulled you close, his body desperate to become drunk in your warmth once more. A soft moan bubbled in your throat as Severus peppered gentle kisses against you, pleading him to go further.

Almost immediately, he caved at the sound of you, his fingers digging into your clothed-flesh, any feeling of guilt fleeing from your body. Gods, you were so wrong, Ben was nothing compared to Severus. Ben never made you feel an ounce of the way that he did - you couldn't remember a time where Ben had touched your body the way he did, nor a time where Ben had kissed your lips as he did.

The two of you had become lost within each other as you made out sloppily in his classroom, his hands gripping you so deeply that the worries of Severus leaving bruises upon your supple skin had vanished from your mind. In fact, deep down, you were hoping he did. The way his hands held your body was heavenly, other-worldly.

You were a little embarrassed at how easily you folded with this man.

Severus's current state of mind was the total opposite of yours. In his head, all he heard was the constant chant of something telling him to stop. He pushed past it, drowning the voices out with harsher kisses, forcefully grabbing you tighter, pulling another moan from your lips. His conversation with Minerva from earlier began to rear its head within his own, torturing him. His stomach twisted awfully, and suddenly there was a bad taste in his mouth.

What the hell was he doing? You were seeing someone.

You were seeing someone.

Is this how pathetic and utterly sad he was? That he immediately latched onto you because he finally felt appreciated, wanted? For once, he didn't feel like a burden to the world. He felt validated, desired, perhaps even loved - everything he had ever wanted when he was younger. Your soft touches sent him spiralling, and he couldn't escape this maze of uncertainty. Did you truly feel something for him or was this some sort of sick, twisted fantasy you had? Were you just taking advantage of him? Was he so easy to be manipulated? He hoped not, he'd worked incredibly hard to get ahold of his emotions; imprisoning them. And you were breaking those thick walls down like dominoes.

"Severus, you're hurting me," Your voice suddenly whined, tearing him from his thoughts as your fingers touched his shaking hand that was gripping your hipbone like a merciless vice. Almost immediately, he released you from his grasp and stepped away, turning his back to you ashamedly. Several seconds of silence passed through the pair of you, your fingers lingering on the sore area, gently rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the ache. "Are you okay?" You kept your voice quiet and soft, careful not to startle him. He clearly wasn't in a good state of mind.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his head drooping, "I shouldn't have kissed you." Severus slowly turned around, his body parallel to yours, a solemn look upon his features. "It was wrong of me, and I was selfish." Severus added, his lips molding into that familiar, emotionless flat line as he stared at you. You frowned and reached your hand out to him, however, he shied away from it. Your chest tightened as you quickly pulled your hand back, hurt by his rejection. All this emotional warfare was wearing you down.

He's running away again, you thought, a shock of fear bolting through you.

"Why are you sorry?" Your brows furrowed deeply as you wrapped your arms around your body, the chill of the dungeon devouring you once more. You instantly missed his warmth against you.

"You're with Bluewater, are you not?" Severus's eyes hardened as he spoke that wretched name. Suddenly, your throat felt incredibly tight. Shit, Ben- he'd totally slipped your mind the moment Severus had kissed you. You'd undoubtedly made a bad habit of forgetting him when in the presence of Severus...

"Erm, yes." You said quietly. The tone of your voice had him confused. You sounded regretful.

Severus stood straighter as his hands slinked away behind his back. You shrunk underneath his towering height.

The next thing you wanted to say could ruin it all. You had no idea whether Severus felt the same. Did he feel something for you, or was it just lust for him? Perhaps some sort of fantasy of fooling around with a younger professor? Everything you'd built could come crashing down like a burning plane within seconds. Your hands suddenly felt clammy as you fought to find the right words, your mouth quivering.

"I..." you breathed out as your eyes fell to the ground for a moment, staring hard. "He's not you." You glanced back up at Severus, his scrutinising eyes sending your lungs into a breathless spasm. You felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for his reply.

"Don't be a fool, Y/N." Severus's voice was cold. It made your stomach drop. Was this his way of rejecting your affections?

"I'm serious." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, eyes studying his unwavering stony face.

"You can do far better than me. I will only hurt you, Y/N," he spoke, his voice deep and languid, "I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible, I will make it impossible to live a life without pain and regret. People do not linger around me for certain reasons."

"Yet I'm still here." You huffed quietly, your fingers squeezing your arms out of frustration.

"For now." Severus mused sarcastically, wallowing in his self-hatred. It hurt you to see his true opinion of himself, and it made your mind race with reasons as to why he despised himself so much.

"Why can't you see yourself the way I do?" You sighed softly, almost defeatedly, gazing at the man in front of you. Severus hated how your eyes were laden with sorrow.

"You look at the world with rose-coloured glasses. I do not." He replied. Those deep, black eyes had suddenly lost the flicker in them, and it pained you. He began to move, sweeping back to his desk, taking a seat behind it - still disorderly and untidy.

You were quiet, quite obviously hurt. Severus's jaw clenched, an ache spreading across his chest as a deep sigh fell through his nostrils.

"Why do you always shut me out, Severus?" A shaky exhale left you as your eyes burned. The emotional rollercoaster that this man was sending you on was truly heartwrenching.

He was silent in response to your question, eyes stuck to his messy desk, an indelicate representation of his current state of mind.

"Severus, answer me," you demanded, attempting to sound as stern as possible, though it was a pathetic failure as your voice broke; breathy sobs fighting to escape your throat. "Why are you so scared of this?"

"I will only hurt you, Y/N." He said, too afraid to look at you. Severus couldn't bear to see you so upset, especially because of him.

"You don't know that." You replied, voice soft.

"And you do?" Severus's head snapped up at you, frustrated, his eyes cold and ruthless; back to their usual appearance. A quiet gasp shot out of your quivering mouth. "Bluewater is better for you." He admitted. How could he say that when he'd said you'd deserved better than him?

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" You cried out, the building frustration within you finally crumbling and spilling out through your tears. Severus looked away from you, physically unable to watch you cry. Gods, he wanted to rush to you and hold you, tell you that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn't. He had no idea if things were going to be okay. And they definitely wouldn't be if he had the honour of callilng you his. "Y/N-" His eyes were still avoiding you, too ashamed to even look at you.

"No, Severus, what gives... what gives you the right to kiss me, to pull me so close to you and then suddenly shove me away like I'm nothing but a piece of dirt on your shoe?" You rambled, your hands flying outwards frantically as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. It was embarrassing how unravelled you'd become, but you couldn't stop yourself. He'd finally broken you. "You can't keep doing this to me, I can't- it's..." Your lungs and throat burned. You'd exhausted yourself. "To kiss you? Did you not initiate it?" He scowled at you. "You were the one pushing your face into mine!"

"Okay, sure, I admit to that- but you didn't have to kiss me! You could have walked away!" You cried, walking up to his desk and pointing a finger at his face. Immediately, his lip curled upwards, his features twisting into a disdainful scowl.

"Is that not what you wanted?! For me to kiss you?!" Severus bellowed, rising from his desk chair, his hands slamming down onto the desk furiously. This time you didn't flinch, too distracted by the flaming hot anger searing through your veins.

"Did you?!" You exclaimed back at him, leaning forwards over his desk. One more time, the two of you were impossibly close - so close that you were sure you could feel the angry heat radiating from each other's bodies.

The room was suddenly dead silent, and yet, the only things the two of you could hear were the ragged, desperate breaths that seeping out of your heaving chests.

"Go to hell, Snape." You whispered with a red face. You felt humiliated, angry, upset- actually, you were certain every single emotion was surging through you right now; the way your body was trembling uncontrollably made you sure of it.

Severus's lack of an answer more than enough for you. With a frustrated, teary-eyed huff, you spun around, storming straight for his door.

Jesus, how could you have fallen for such a cruel man? Were you so blind? He had an abysmal reputation for a reason, yet you still selfishly thought that you could change him, that you could fix him and make him a better person. And you were wrong, Gods, were you so. Fucking. Wrong.

You were only three steps away, when a strong hand suddenly gripped your arm, spinning you around with force. You whirled around, taken by surprise as Severus crashed his lips against yours, his touch-hungry hands rushing carelessly to grasp at your waist, drawing your body into his. He was like a devouring flame, hungry and starving for its fuel of life. You gasped against his lips, your body soon falling victim to his alluring aura, melting shamelessly into him. Your mind clouded with lust and desire as your hands swiftly settled around his neck once again, desperately tugging him as close to you as possible as a few stray tears fell from your closed eyes, wetting both of your cheeks. You were unabashedly needy for his touch - for his lips, for his whole self in general - your body and heart was begging for him, and Severus noticed.

Severus pushed you backwards towards the very desk that the two of you had brewed the Mandrake potion a year ago, his hands slipping underneath your thighs to lift you up effortlessly. Your bum grazed against the surface as he placed you down, a rogue piece of wood tearing the hem of your nightdress slightly. You spread your legs, inviting him in, his hips pressed against the edge of the desk as he kissed you hungrily. Severus's hands slipped up from your thighs and felt their way up to your waist again, squeezing you tenderly, shooting a delicious shiver up your spine. He pulled a delicate moan from your lips as he let one of his hands snake up to your neck, his thumb grazing against the side of your breast on its travels. A groan bubbled in his throat at the sultry noise, a thrilling jolt trembling through him as his hand gently grasped the back of your neck, his cold fingers tickling the nape of it.

You mindlessly wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him closer with each lingering kiss like he could be ripped away from you any second. Severus's hips rutted against yours and you gasped, prompting an animalistic groan from his mouth.

Your hands fell from his neck, sliding agonisingly slow down his torso and halting themselves at his hips, toying with the buckle and buttons of his trousers. Instantaneously, with his wet and swollen lips still glued to yours, his hand abandoned your waist to help you with his clothing, unbuckling them one-handedly. You were impressed to say the least.

As you fumbled with his zipper, Severus returned his hands to your body. His slender and skilled fingers found your cardigan and slipped it off of your shoulders and arms, discarding it to the ground. You whined slightly at the sudden bitter air, though it was soon silenced as Severus delved his wet tongue wildly into your mouth, licking and caressing it against your own. You moaned as he moved his mouth down to your jaw, nipping at it sweetly, his tongue leaving a hot trail as he made his way down toward your neck; his fingers having a mind of their own as they flew to your shoulders, tugging at the straps of your nightdress. Another breathless moan tumbled freely from your mouth as Severus sucked sweetly on your neck, pushing you backwards onto the surface of the table. You let yourself be guided by him as you laid back on the desk, arching yourself as your hands flew from his hips to the back of his neck, diving your fingers into his thick, mop of black hair, urging him to continue.

Your lids are lazy and heavy as you let him ravage your neck with sinful lips. "Severus," You whispered, breathless, sending a shockwave through him. "Need you-" A lewd whine left you as your body rocked hungrily against his.

"Patience," He whispered back against your hot skin, panting. You whined once more, evidently unhappy with his response. Severus chuckled, pulling away from your slender neck, your hands sliding down from the mess of his hair to his clothed biceps. He leaned down toward your face once more, a pool of warmth flourishing in his torso as he gazed down at you. He lifted a large hand and placed it tenderly against your cheek, his thumb brushing against the pinkened apples of your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his sweet touch, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red, inducing a rare smile upon Severus's lips. You allowed your fingers to shift from his tensed arms to the hem of his cloak on his chest.

"What?" You asked quietly, a coy smile gracing your full, swollen lips as you beckoned him closer with a tug at his cloak that lingered between the pads of your fingers.

"Nothing." He rumbled in his deep voice, still staring at you. You sucked in a cheek and bit down on the inside of it, the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability eating you up. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, sending a shiver throughout your body.

"Then kiss me again, will you?" You laughed softly, slightly embarrassed at the dishevelled state you were currently in. You gave another tug at his cloak again. Severus's lips quirked upwards again at your demand, caving at your sweet voice. He leant down slowly, large nose brushing against yours in an intimate fashion as he pressed a soft, chaste kiss against your reddened lips.

In this tender and soft moment that you shared with Severus, all you wanted to do was remain here forever. Seeing him act so warm and soft with you felt like a fever dream. From the callous way he spoke to you in the first year, you never expected a man like him to have such a gentle and delicate side. It was momentous - he'd finally succumbed to you, allowing you into his world; a side of him you never thought you'd ever see. And you were eternally grateful for it.

You felt yourself becoming lost in his addicting touch again as his hands travelled down your body, gently caressing your flaming hot skin. They reached your thighs, squeezing them, and your back arched into him; the fire from before burning hotter.

Kissing you, Severus trailed the tips of his fingers down your legs, toying with the hem of your nightdress, slowly and teasingly guiding it up towards your thighs. The sensation sent a chill down your spine as the crisp air nipped at your bare legs, excited goosebumps erupting all over you. With a delicious, muffled hum, he hooked a finger underneath the string of your underwear, pulling at it.

"You want this?" He muttered against your lips, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment.

"Yes," you panted, "please, yes."

At the sound of your pleas, Severus slipped your lacy panties off of you, discarding them on the ground with your cardigan. Instantly, he grazed his hand up the inner side of your calf, and up your thigh, coming to a teasingly close stop at where you needed him most. You whined, rocking your hips into him, begging, pleading him to touch you. A throaty growl rumbled out of him, and he mashed his lips harsher against yours, diving his tongue into your wet mouth, engaging in a heated quarrel with your own. You gasped as his hand finally settled on your burning core, a single cool finger delving itself between your wet folds, circling around your sensitive bud.

A strangled moan left your mouth as he added another finger, tracing the outline of you agonisingly slow, a coil tightening within the confines of your belly. You were panting helplessly now as he teased you, losing all control as Severus slipped his fingers inside of you, extracting a high-pitched whine from your throat. You grit your teeth as he curled them inside of you, clutching at any last bit of strength within you to stop yourself from screaming out. Your body was trembling now, hopelessly, as Severus had you wrapped around his fingers quite literally.

You exhaled, "Severus," with a whiny moan, he pulled away from your mouth and removed his fingers from you and brought them up to your lips. Without hesitation, you parted them, prompting Severus to dip them into your mouth, your tongue curling around them sinfully. A groan bubbled in the back of his throat as you tightened your legs around his hips, begging for him to continue.

A smug smirk picked at the corners of his lips as he stared at you. Your lips were wrapped around his two fingers, saliva dripping messily from them, your eyes blown and dark, hungry for more of him.

"Such a good girl," Severus uttered, tilting his chin upwards. You almost combusted right then and there. "You always were." He hummed. Instantly, your hands flew to his trousers, tugging at them with wild determination. You couldn't wait any longer, you needed him now.

He pulled his fingers out of your pretty mouth and helped you, lowering his trousers; the growing tent in his boxers driving you insane. Your fingers hook at the hem of them as his own did with your panties, pulling them down urgently. A fierce flicker of lust and desire flashed in your eyes as his cock bounced free, your legs tugging him closer to you once more, a whimper leaving your lips in an attempt to persuade him to finally take you.

"Sev, please," The way you shortened his name in your soft, enticing and whiny voice almost sent him tumbling over the edge. He drew a sharp breath as he placed a hand against your cheek, and his other underneath your nightdress upon your waist, his fingers finally touching and squeezing your naked flesh. He groaned as you rutted your hips against him again. Without a delay, he slipped himself inside of you, the pair of you moaning together at the intense flash of pleasure washing over you like a tsunami.

Severus's mind was jaded as he fucked you, his mouth parting and lips quivering as he allowed himself to become lost in the ripples of unwavering bliss that rattled through his body. Your hands snaked up to his face and cradled it sweetly, pulling him back down to meet your lips again. The kisses were short and sweet, nothing like the hungry and harsh ones before.

Your head fell back slightly, your bottom lip caught between his teeth as Severus's full length sheathed itself inside of your warm, hot core; the delicious slapping of yours and his flesh echoing in his classroom. All those years ago, studying in here, never did you think that you'd find yourself right here in this sensual moment.

Severus's hand that was sat on your waist slipped downwards and settled itself on your hip, fingers digging harshly into your skin as he felt himself teetering closer to the edge. His breaths were becoming ragged, laboured and heavy, and so he brought his other hand down to your womanhood, slipping his fingers between your folds once more to thumb your clit. As he circled it skillfully, your body quaked with every rub, strings of moans and gasps falling freely and shamelessly from your busied mouth. The coil within you tightened, and your fingers sunk themselves into his mop of black hair once more, gripping it with force as your body shook uncontrollably.

Severus's thrusts became sloppy and uncalculated as he pulled his face back from you, watching as you came undone beneath him; your face twisting in a dangerously beautiful manner as the coil snapped. He moved his hands from you and placed them beside your hips as your walls clenched frantically around him, and Severus himself was sent tumbling over the edge, a broken and throaty animalistic moan slipping out of his mouth as his body gave out, collapsing over you. Catching himself with his hands, he transferred his weight to his elbows and forearms, leaning up slightly to gaze at you. His black eyes twinkled beautifully in the amber glow of his classroom, a flush of warmth blossoming over your spent, sweaty body. A gentle giggle came from you, and he found himself smiling. Usually, it felt odd for such an expression to take hold of his features, however, with you, it felt natural. Like it was meant to be there.

(end of 18+)

He allowed himself a moment to recuperate as your fingers softened their grasp in his hair, gradually glazing to his cup his red cheeks, thumbs brushing sweetly against his burning skin. He pulled himself out of you and pulled up his trousers, buckling them up. He pulled your nightdress back down over your legs, his hand lingering over your thigh.

"Don't you look happy with yourself," you giggled again, and Severus hushed you with a gentle kiss on your lips. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"What do you mean?" He frowned softly, thumb brushing against the silk material that covered your thigh. A warmth pooled in your belly at his touch.

"You're smiling, and it's not forced... or sarcastic." You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip playfully.

"I can't help myself," Severus muttered, his face mere centimetres away from yours, "You just seem to pull them out of me." The warmth within your burned a little hotter.

"Don't stroke my ego, you'll regret it, Sev." You joked, a toothy grin replacing the sweet smile. He chuckled at you.

"I hate to bring this up, however, it's niggling at my mind," Severus suddenly sighed, the tiny flicker of a smile that was on his face disappearing. "What about Bluewater now?"

You scrunched your nose up at the sound of his name, the guilt that once vanished making a very hasty return to your body, sinking into your aching shoulders. "Um," you winced, "I don't know. I can't exactly... end things with him whilst he's staying here, erm, I'm not sure how he'll react." You finished, allowing your fingers to brush through Severus's dishevelled black hair.

"Hm," he hummed, pondering. "what does that mean... for us?"

"We will just have to grin and bear it until he 'deems it safe to leave'." You made a face, mocking Ben's words from that moment in the Great Hall. A faint amused smile spread across Severus's face, your chest tingling at the sight of it. "And I'm not sure I can tell him about us, he might just lose it, you know how he... you know- hates you."

"That would truly be a sight to behold," Severus smirked, the arrogance in him slithering out. You rolled your eyes at him. "However, we must be wise in our decisions, I do not want you getting hurt." His other hand held your cheek, fingers brushing a stray strand of messy hair behind your reddening ears.

"Do you think you can handle acting like you hate me for a few more days?" You asked, a bashful grin gracing your blushing face. Your hand settled atop of his large one as he caressed your cheek. Severus couldn't believe how lucky he was. What on Earth did he do to deserve this? To deserve such a beautiful, kind creature like you?

"I did it for the past year, another few days is nothing." He quipped quickly, a playful tone in his voice. You scoffed at him.

"Wow," you breathed out, grinning, your hands flying to his chest to push him off of you. He obliged and leaned up, stepping out of the trap of your legs. You slipped off of the table and picked up your underwear and cardigan, putting them both back on. An embarrassed red blush fluttered across your cheeks as fresh memories of Severus rolling up your nightdress flooded your mind, almost drowning you.

"Oh, that's too far?" He laughed softly. You head flew to look at him, your heart skipping a beat from the sound of his beautiful laugh. You'd never heard it before, and it was... gorgeous, to say the least.

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh - genuinely." You gasped, an uncontrollable smile spreading across your face like a wildfire. Almost immediately, Severus's face dropped and he rolled his eyes, clearly opposed to your positive reaction. He wasn't exactly fond of being fawned over, it made him feel weak.

"And it'll be the last." He groaned, turning away from you as another sweet laugh bubbled in the back of your throat.

"I should get back, Ben is probably wondering where I am, or... he's still asleep, oblivious to the world." You sighed heavily, padding towards Severus's tall, cloaked form. He slowly turned around, his black eyes sparkling in the orange torchlight.

"Yes," He said softly, fingers coming up to hold your chin. All sense and feeling suddenly drained from your legs. "Though I'm not sure I can promise to stay away from you, let alone keep my hands off of you." Severus muttered, his deep, languid voice sending a shock through your smaller body.

Your breath hitched, "Well, you're going to have to try," you exhaled softly, eyes flicking between his. He brought your chin up, cool fingers grasping it sweetly, and pressed a tender kiss upon your lips. Naturally, your hands flew up to sit against his strong chest, a guttural groan emitting from his throat as he kissed you. You had to swallow the moan that threatened to slip from you, feeling yourself become aroused all over again. "Alright, I really have to go." You whispered against his mouth, though your body was showing the complete opposite of what you said.

You kissed him back, a little harder, tracing your tongue against the surface of his bottom lip. "Go, then." He murmured back, hands slipping from your face and down to your waist, gripping you teasingly slow. You arched into him, breaths becoming shallow and wanting.

"I'm trying," you whimpered, "you're making this very hard."

"Let me make it easy for you then." Before you could protest, Severus tore himself from you, a needy, desperate whine falling from your lips.

"Gods, you're such a tease." You groaned, folding your arms against your chest, a clear show of disappointment. Severus couldn't help but smile at you. You looked so incredibly cute with that unhappy frown on your little face.

"My apologies." Severus mused sarcastically. "Now, go, I will see you tomorrow."

You sighed, "Alright, fine..." eyes looking at his form dangerously, rousing him.

"Stop it, Y/N."

"What?"

"You know exactly what you're doing."

"Do I?" You blinked, an innocent look crossing your features.

"Leave. Now." Severus said sternly, gesturing to the door as he swept behind his desk, seating himself.

"Alright, I'm going." You couldn't help but smile cheekily as you moved towards the door, fingers clicking it open reluctantly. "Same time tomorrow?"

"We'll see. Now, go."

And so you did, slipping out of his classroom sneakily, making sure to shut his door as quietly as possible with the brightest smile on your blushing face.

What the hell just happened?

Part 12!

oh LORDT. i do hope i wrote that scene well, it was tough i won't lie. however, credit to the weeknd, bro really helped me.

let me know your thoughts, i'm always curious to see what you think :)

i love you guys!! thank you again!! make sure to drink enough water, it's getting super hot again ffs! >:(

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blasphemecel · 9 days

Text

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

#michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader

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writing-for-marvel · 1 year

Text

Every Step of the Way

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: After struggling through the entire week, Steve’s there to comfort you when you need him the most.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: severe depression is depicted, Steve and reader being naked in a shower together but nothing sexual, major hurt comfort vibes

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: this is 1000% self indulgent, I wrote this when I was in a really dark place, struggling to even just get out of bed every day and I needed Stevie there to comfort me. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Opening your eyes seems like an effort too great for the amount of energy in your reserves.

Every breath is a heave, as if trying to gasp for air with an anvil sitting on your chest.

The backs of your eyes sting with tears at the thought of needing to get out of bed. You don’t want to face the day, don’t want to be the early bird catching the worm. You want to stay under the covers and sleep, that’s all you have the motivation to do.

Dirty dishes are stacked next to your sink, they’ve been accumulating since early in the week and you’ve just not had the energy after working and making dinner each night to actually wash them yet.

Clothes litter the floor of your bedroom, but you’ve put off going down to the laundry room for the past few days, with each new sunrise promising it’ll be tomorrow you’ll find time to do it, but that tomorrow never comes.

The bathrooms need cleaning, the floor needs vacuuming, surfaces need dusting - you put off doing them last weekend to focus on other household chores, but this weekend has come around and you’re not any more inspired to complete them.

You hear keys rattle in your front door, the sound startling you enough to finally open your eyes, but not sufficiently concerning to warrant leaving your bed. The only person who owned keys to your place was your boyfriend and though you didn’t want him to see the mess you were living in, there wasn’t anything you could do in the two seconds it would take for him to open your door.

As if instinctually he knows you’re still snuggled up in bed, you hear his heavy footsteps striding steadily towards your door.

Bracing for the furious displeasure you have been conditioned to receive from ex partners when they discovered you in a relapse, you pull the covers tighter around yourself as if to shield you from what was about to happen.

“Stevie…” Your voice is soft, vulnerable as he enters the room, but it’s not pity nor annoyance you see in his eyes, which you had been expecting, but instead they are brimming with concern.

“Hey darling.” His honey voice is slow and smooth, soothing the jittery anxiety ricocheting through your mind and chest. “Not feeling too good?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you shake your head anyway, clutching the duvet closer to your chin. Steve pulls his shirt over his head, rounds the bed and climbs in next to you.

“C’mere.” His strong arms envelop you and pull you into his strong chest, the weight of them on your back and his musky scent, which now consumes your senses, is the secure reassurance you’ve been needing all week that you’re not completely alone in this brutal world.

He doesn’t ask what’s the matter with you, doesn’t ask why you’ve barely answered his messages all week, why your home is a complete mess or why you’re laying in the dark at noon on a weekend. He doesn’t make you justify your change in behaviour, why you kept him at arm's length, doesn’t scold you for your absence as other people have done in the past. Instead, he kisses your forehead, whispers that you’re safe with him as he gently rubs his hand up and down your back.

He could have easily chastised you for withdrawing into yourself and not seeking help, could have pointed out the state your home was in, or mentioned that you smelled in need of a shower, but he does none of that. Rather, he tells you over and over again that you’re loved, ingraining the notion in your mind so that you won’t ever forget, placing kisses over every inch of your face he can reach while still holding your body close.

The sound of his beating heart lulls you to a peaceful sleep, feeling safe and treasured, and for the first time this week like you don’t have to carry the weight of expectation and hollow desolation all on your own.

* * *

When you wake, the warmth provided by your sturdy boyfriend is missing. Distress fills your chest for a moment, thinking perhaps Steve coming to soothe you to sleep was a figment of your imagination, until you hear the faint sound of movement from the main living area.

With an effort you believe rivals running an entire marathon, you push the sheets off yourself, heave yourself out of bed and trudge into your kitchen, but not before noticing that the clothes that were strewn over your bedroom floor this morning were no longer there.

Once your eyes adjust to the light you notice Steve hunched over your sink, elbows deep in soapy water doing your dishes. Part of you is thankful, you’ve been needing to do them all week and just hadn’t found the energy or motivation. But another part of you, deep in your chest, feels ashamed - you have to rely on your boyfriend, who has a hectic enough life of his own, to do something as simple as washing your dishes. How pathetic.

“Steve, I can do them.” You declare, lumbering over to the counter, feeling somewhat relieved to see there’s only half the number of dirty pots and pans as was there when you left them last night.

“It’s okay darling, I’ve already got my hands wet…”

“I don’t want you doing my dishes for me, Steven.” You don’t know why those particular words leave your mouth, because seeing the dishes you had failed to clean the last few days finally have the grime scrubbed off them alleviates some of the hefty gravity pushing you chest so tight you almost can’t breathe. But it also makes you feel incapable, worthless and weak.

You’re not sure what quality it is in your voice that indicates it, but Steve immediately removes his hands from the bubbly water, dries them quickly on the back of his pants and pulls you into his chest just as tears you didn’t realise were coming start silently streaming down your cheeks.

“Shhh, it’s okay, deep breaths for me baby.” His large hands rub soothing circles around your back as your tears dampen his shirt. You try your best to follow his instruction, slowly take deep breaths and calm the flow of untameable misery pouring out the corners of your eyes, but your throat starts constricting and each new tear running down your cheeks evokes two more.

You just want it to end. You want to be able to function like a regular human being without exhausting all of your energy reserves by simply getting out of bed.

You just want to be normal. Be someone Steve can be proud to call his girl. Not someone who struggles to do the simplest of tasks.

When Steve senses that your flood of emotions isn’t subsiding, he shuffles with you in his arms towards your bathroom, whispering that the warm water of your shower will help refresh you.

He helps lift you onto your bathroom countertop, kissing away the stray tears on your cheeks before turning on the shower. While he tests the temperature of the water with one hand, his other maintains hold on yours - even just the connection to him helps in your attempts to calm yourself down. He’s here for you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

When the temperature is just how you like it, Steve helps you strip off your clothes and directs you under the stream. You let the water wash over your face, taking some of your worries with them, as Steve steps in behind you.

You can’t tell the difference between your own teardrops and drizzle of the shower as you look up at your boyfriend, grateful for the care and tenderness he’s shown you while you’re at your lowest. No one else has stuck around when they’ve seen you like this, but in this moment you feel nothing but pure love.

You place a gentle kiss to a scar on his bare chest and Steve kisses your forehead in return - a silent message to thank him for being there for you, and him to acknowledge that though you’re unable to voice your gratitude at the present moment, he understands it’s there.

Once Steve washes your hair, knowing the steps of your routine perfectly, and the rest of your body, you step out of the shower feeling like the load you’ve been carrying for the past few weeks has been washed off your back.

Steve smiles as he pulls his own shirt over your head, kissing your nose once your head pops through the hole. Now your tears have settled, you can appreciate the affection overflowing in his baby blues, fondness you don’t believe you deserve, but cherish nonetheless.

Forgetting all about the dirty dishes in the cold, soapy sink, Steve directs you back to your bedroom, climbing in after you and pulling you once again into his strapping chest.

“Darling, you don’t have to carry this burden alone. I’m here for you, and I love you, you don’t ever have to face this by yourself again.” Steve speaks softly into your hairline, the intent and conviction in his voice enough to drive you to tears again.

“But it’s not like I have that much on my plate, I should be able to do simple things like housework. I just… I just can’t. I can’t explain it, my brain just doesn’t allow me to.”

Steve pulls away from you slightly so he has an angle to look at you directly in the eye. It looks like it physically pains him to see you struggling so much.

“My love, you are the strongest person I have ever met. I am so proud of you everyday that you are here with me, that you keep battling your own mind. You’re my fighter, my best girl, and I’m here to help you through this difficult patch. For better or worse. In sickness and in health, I love you.” He punctuates his declaration with a sweet kiss, reinforcing his words.

“We’re not married Stevie.” You point out, but he simply smirks at you.

“Not yet.”

Before Steve Rogers you believed love was tumultuous and torture, that it was meant to tear you in half, because you cared about the other person so ardently it left you bloodied and bruised. But Steve proved to you that wasn’t love - love isn’t supposed to feel like you’re going to war, instead it’s comfort, it’s a reassuring embrace of someone who has seen your battle scars and tells you it’s time to rest.

Love is solace.

And Steve Rogers is certainly your solace.

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harrygoeswest · 1 year

Text

Love Aged Like Fine Wine

Harry is drunk and lost not too far from home, and there's only one person he wants to call to rescue him.

A/N: Hello everyone 👋🏼 it has been a loooong time since I posted anything on Tumblr, and I was admittedly reluctant to do so. However, I reblogged the lovely Sarah's (@harry-on-broadway) fic challenge the other day and it inspired me, and I would be doing a disservice to write the whole thing and never look at it again, especially since I quite like it. SO, I give you my first one shot in over a year. Bear with me, I'm a bit rusty... Special mention as always to Miss Liz (@all-things-fic) for reading and validating me.

I'm using prompts 14 & 19.

Trigger Warnings: Absolutely nothing (apart from the odd f word)

Word Count: 6533

~~~

“What do you want, Harry?”

An offended scoff was his initial response. “Not a very nice way t’greet y’best friend.”

He was right, it wasn’t. “You’re not my best friend.”

“Ouch. Though’ we were besties ‘n now y��makin’ me feel sad.”

Harry was slurring more than he usually did. I feared if he tried to say obviously, ‘overshly’ would turn into a soft, deep single syllable alike to the word ‘shush’. It wasn’t particularly late to warrant his level of drunkenness. Especially on a Tuesday evening. Chewsday, if you will.

“Harsh truths are easier to take when you’re drunk.” I said, shrugging as if he could see the action.

“Why’re y’bein’ so ‘orrible?” He whined.

“Why are you calling me pissed as a fart at 8:45 on a Tuesday night and ruining my bath time?”

“‘S there some space lef’ in the bathtub?”

“Don’t make it weird.” I grimaced. “What’s going on?”

He produced an incoherent mumble. I heard the rain get heavier, both on the phone call and outside my house.

“What was that?”

“M’st…”

“Aye?” I asked, my face surely a bewildered picture.

“I’m lost.” He huffed, agitated.

I sat up in the bath, water and suds sloshing around me. “Lost?”

“Yes.”

“W-,” words failed me, and I barked out a sharp laugh. “How are you lost?”

“How does anyone else get lost?” He said, stroppy.

“Wow, you really are drunk.”

He hummed, but it was a defeated noise. “C’ya come ‘n get me?”

“How am I supposed to come and get you if you don’t know where you are?”

“Well I was only at The Holly Bush.”

I laughed twice as hard that time. Put in perspective, The Holly Bush is no more than a ten minute walk from Harry’s house. “How long have you been walking?”

“‘Bout ‘alf an hour.” He muttered.

Now I was really howling, like a hyena on laughing gas. “Jesus Christ, Harry!”

“‘S not funny!”

“On the contrary, years of comedy begs to differ.”

He practically cried my name down the phone. “‘M really tired ‘n cold ‘n… weh,” I think he meant wet, “please come get me.”

I took a deep breath and mourned my premature bath. “Fine. But do not move from wherever you are.”

“Won’t.”

I stood up and watched water and soap suds cascade down my body with a pout. “What can you see?”

“Er…” a pause followed, I assumed for his vacant thoughts. “‘S like a lot of trees.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could literally be any part of the Heath, mate. Say more words.”

“I can’t see shit! It’s dark and it’s pissing it down!”

“Don’t get arsey or you can stay there and drown in rain water.” I warned him. “Find a road sign. Or a street name.”

He grunted. After no more than fifteen seconds he produced, “Platt’s Lane.”

“Alright, I know where that is. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” He said. At least I think that’s what he said.

I murmured a little, “Sure,” and then hung up.

I dressed quickly in the easiest clothes I could find - a pair of tie-dye jogging bottoms, an old t-shirt and a crewneck over the top. I pulled on the first pair of trainers I could find and ran out to my car whilst fighting the rain. I also took a towel with me. My hair was still in the bun I’d put it up in for my bath.

It was really battering it down now - it was loud inside the car and the windows were steamed up. It was even louder when I turned the air conditioning on to defog the windows.

Once I could see outside the front and back windows I finally made my way to find Harry. I still mourned my bath as I drove - I missed how warm it was and how comfortable I had been. Now I was out in the cold and wet to rescue my drunken idiot friend.

It didn’t take me very long to find said drunken idiotic friend. He was sitting on a yellow grit box under some trees at the junction of Platt’s Lane and West Heath Road. He was soaking, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. I pulled up as close to him as possible and leaned over to push the door open.

“Get in, you moron!” I called.

Harry looked up at the sound of my voice. He leapt to his feet almost immediately after, and staggered his way over to my little car. He nearly tripped over twice on his way, and he hit his head as he sat down.

“Fucking hell.” I muttered. “Look at the state of you.”

He grumbled, readjusting his sodden jacket, and then looked right at me. His hair was drenched, water dripping from his neck down his arms and chest, and his forehead down his nose and cheeks.

“Here,” I threw the towel at him. “You’re gonna make my car smell.”

“‘S tha’ the wors’ a’ya problems?” He asked, a snide tone laced in his mushy words.

“I wish it was.”

I pulled off again as Harry began to attempt to dry himself off, although I feared a towel would do very little to help him. Fortunately we were only a mere five minute drive from his house anyway. He probably could have walked home faster if he were sober.

It was a relatively quiet drive since Harry spent most of it rubbing my towel over every available inch of his body. He did however sing along to the one song he heard playing, but he didn’t quite have the same masterful tone as usual. He even seemed quite timid.

I parked as close as possible to his front door and shut the engine off.

“Where are your keys, H?”

He gave me a dopey blink and then looked down at himself, double chin appearing accompanied with a pouty lower lip. “Dunno. On me somewhere.”

I sighed and unclipped my seatbelt, then reached over to him to feel through each of his pockets for his house keys. Of course I found them in the hardest one to reach on the inside of his jacket. He giggled while I did, like a child being tickled. I smacked him on the arm before I got out of the car.

I ran up to the front door and unlocked it, opening it so that my paralytic companion could be jettisoned inside his home as quickly as possible without getting more wet.

“Come on, then,” I said as I opened the passenger door, my shoulders hunched because the rain felt weird on my neck.

Harry practically fell out of the car at my instruction, so I lifted him up and placed his arm around my shoulder so I could manage his weight better. I kicked the car door shut behind us and walked him to the door. I realised on our little walk how unfit I was.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I said, my voice tight. It was only strained because he was heavy and I was weak.

“Didn’t even think I drank tha’ much, was only few whiskeys.”

Only a few could range anything between 3 and 30. I didn’t chide him for that. “It’s alright, Harry. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” I meant that genuinely and not as a threat I’d be getting that level of drunk in the future just to call him to rescue me.

“Would.” He insisted.

I awkwardly held onto him as we got inside, twisting at an awkward angle to close the door and keep any more rain from getting in. Harry felt like dead weight against me.

“Ready to get upstairs?”

His affirming nod was the surest action I’d seen from him this far.

“Alright,” I took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

I made sure we navigated the stairs one at a time, because I had visions of him tripping up and cracking his head open if he tried to do anything by himself. And now, in the warmth of his massive home and up this close to him, the boy reeked of stale beer and sweat. I didn’t want to ask what he’d been doing in The Holly Bush for him to get that bad. I hadn’t seen him that wasted in a very long time.

“Meant it, y’know.” He slurred.

We were only halfway up the stairs and all I could hear was my own panting. Admittedly I was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet.

“Meant what?” I heaved, and pushed him up the next step.

“I w’ do the same f’you.”

“I know you would.”

“Don’t even have t’ be drunk.”

“Right.”

We stopped for a minute, not at anyone’s request but Harry didn’t seem to want to move. I looked at him as he did me, and he produced this hazy-eyed, closed-lip smile.

His woolly but content expression made me laugh. “I think it’s bed time for you, mate.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me ‘mate’.”

I frowned. “Alright. Sorry.”

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, Harry collapsed on me by way of a hug. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, his entire body somehow wrapped around mine. I was suffocating in the smell of a brewery.

“Don’t leave me.” He begged.

“I’m not… Need to get you to bed somehow.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, eyes heavy. “You can take me to bed.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He nodded repeatedly like a bobble-head figure.

I made a face, perturbed, and nudged him in the direction of his bedroom. He nearly fell over as he turned around, and ended up palming the wall the rest of the way. I kept a hand on his back just in case.

As soon as he saw his bed he was climbing onto it, still fully clothed and in his muddy trainers.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, reaching after him like he was a toddler, “Harry, take your shoes off.”

He laughed maniacally into his bed sheets, the muffled sound disturbing.

I huffed with a scowl and did it myself. His vans were dripping wet so I took them to the radiator and left them on top to dry. I made sure the radiator was turned on, too. The last thing Harry Styles needed was the flu again.

He was sitting up now, watching me with a warm expression. I ignored it.

“Need to take your clothes off or you’ll get a cold.”

“Yes, Miss.” He was beaming now.

The attempt at taking his t-shirt off was painful, and I ended up having to help him.

“Jeans too.”

I knew that would be more agonising to watch than the t-shirt, and I didn’t want to have to look at his bare chest for too long, so I went for a walk to the closest bathroom to get another towel. His jeans were still around his knees when I got back.

“Jesus Christ.” I said through gritted teeth, and freed his jeans from around his ankles. They were a heavy kind of damp and thudded when I put them on the floor.

“‘S cold.” He commented, staring up at me.

“I’ve just put the radiator on.” I told him, and handed him the towel. “I’ll find you some clean pants.”

I left him to dry his no doubt tacky chest and legs while I searched through his drawers for some clean underwear. I threw them at him once I’d located them.

“Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Wardrobe.” He said, voice getting gruff.

I collected his dirty clothes from off the floor again and wandered into the walk-in wardrobe attached to his bedroom. I stared at it for a while, not just because it was ginormous but also because I couldn’t believe the amount of crap in it. It was bulging with clothes - some I hadn’t seen him wear for years and others I hadn’t seen him wear at all. Ever.

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the overflowing basket in one of the cupboards, hating to do so because it was just adding to more chores. And then I realised that this was not my house and I would not be responsible for washing any of his clothes.

“Harry, do you want something to wear in bed if you’re cold?”

He never answered.

I peered into the bedroom to see he’d already tucked himself into bed.

“I guess not.” I muttered.

I stood next to his bed and watched him for a minute. His eyes were closed and he was breathing regularly but I couldn’t work out if he was actually asleep or just pretending to be. His eyelids looked shiny and delicate and his cheeks were dusted pink - a combination of his inebriation and being outside in the cold for so long. I could hear the radiator chugging and it was definitely warmer than it had been when we arrived.

Without thinking, still staring at him while possibly passed out like a lunatic creep, I wrapped my index finger around one of his curls and moved it out of his face.

He giggled suddenly, catching my wrist. “That tickled.”

I smacked his hand away. “I thought you were asleep, you absolute git!”

“Not yet.”

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. “I’m goin’ home. Seeing you in bed is making me want mine.”

“Can always share mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, and made a move to leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Aye, wait!” He shouted at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you t’ leave yet.”

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you’re about to pass out on me anyway.”

He said something that was complete and utter incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m not changing my mind.”

He whined my name again and reached for my hand. “Please stay bit longer? Like havin’ y’here, havin’ y’around.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I still want my own bed.”

“Please?”

“No.” I stood my ground, but I took a step closer and pinched his cheek. “But I’ll come back tomorrow after work if that makes you feel better.”

“Feel better if y’stayed wi’ me now.”

“Well that’s not going to happen. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Need y’now. Need y’all the time.”

“Stop being daft.”

“‘M not bein’ daft - I mean it.”

“You are being daft. Just go to sleep - I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

He stressed my name and sat up. “Y’not listenin’ to me. ‘M bein’ proper serious - I want ya t’ stay wi’ me. I need y’here.”

“No, what you need is sleep.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m going to go and get you a pint of water and a paracetamol and then I’m going home. And that’s the last we’re gonna say on this, end of.”

I left the room and found my way to the kitchen, though admittedly I did get lost on my way there since I’d only been here once before and it was a considerable amount of time ago. I did as promised and got him a pint of water and found some paracetamol in a drawer full of miscellaneous items close to the sink.

I couldn’t fathom why Harry was so needy, insobriety aside. We were friends, yes, and had been for some time, but we weren’t that close. Or perhaps we were and I just refused to admit it due to his increasing popularity and the fact that being perceived near him in the public eye terrified me. I was perfectly happy with my mundane job and my mundane life. I appreciated Harry for what he was - a friend -, and didn’t expect anything more or less from that level of our relationship. Nor had I ever, and it surprised me that he suddenly did.

Perhaps I was overthinking it all. That was likely.

I returned to Harry’s room to find him out of bed in just his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked, putting the water and the tablets on his bedside table, trying to avoid looking at his chest.

“Need the loo.” He said without hesitation, and marched past me.

I sighed, watching after him until he was safely in the bathroom with the door closed, and then I perched on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands.

I was irritated, yes. I knew I shouldn’t be as irritated as I was, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the evening I had planned for myself. I was supposed to have an early night and go to work in the morning with a clear head and no bags under my eyes. Now I was going to look like the walking dead, and feel like it too.

I stood up again when Harry reappeared. I watched him stagger and sway across the corridor and it made me nervous. He tripped once and nearly smacked his face against the doorframe.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” I said, panicked, and reached forward to steady him.

He laughed, more a giggle of that from a small girl. “I’m so drunk.”

“I know you are. That’s why you need to get into bed.”

“I will, jus’ one more thing before I do,”

I thought he was going to start running riot around the house and I was going to have to chase after him, like a dog owner with a tyrannical pooch. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. His body was warm and it felt strange being this close to him when he had so little clothes on.

I let out a long breath, reciprocating it this time. “You’re a twat.”

He hummed when I stroked my hand over his damp hair. “Not very nice.”

“And yet still true.”

He grunted, but never moved a muscle. A moment of silence passed before he said anything else. “Thank you f’ comin’ to rescue me.”

“Sure, anytime.” I didn’t mean that. Or maybe I did, but I’d be bitter about it if it became a recurrence because I couldn’t stand to disappoint people who meant a lot to me.

He let me go, and I thought that was finally going to be the end of it. Instead, he took my face, quite harshly, between both of his hands until my cheeks squished. His gaze was dopey and warm again, but somehow different to last time. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Harry, that hurts.”

He ignored me. “I love you.” It sounded more like ‘ah luff you’ but that wasn’t relevant in the moment.

“Yeah, I love you too, now let go.” I was trying to pull his hands away but apparently he was still physically stronger than me even that drunk.

“No,” he shook his head at me and then brought what felt like my entire body against his chest. “I mean I really love you.”

I couldn’t see anything. I felt us begin to fall sideways, but with his strength I had absolutely no control over where we were going.

“Harry!” I screamed, still trying to fight him with no luck.

I think we hit the bed because the landing was softer than anticipated and Harry didn’t wince or flinch. That could also be attributed to the levels of alcohol in his body. He was probably majoritively quite numb.

“Y’like, my favourite person.” He said, voice much quieter now, and I could feel his nose in my hair. My face was pushed into his chest. “Want y’around all time. Rubbish a’ showin’ it but I miss y’when ‘m nor’ at home. ‘N I don’t mean everyone, I mean jus’ you.”

I was listening to him with baited breath. I’d never really been on the receiving end of ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ - I was usually the one talking and making a fool of myself. Once I told my sister’s boyfriend (at the time) what I really thought of him in front of our entire family after keeping my mouth shut for so long. They broke up the next day and she came to live with me for a month. I felt almost paralysed now listening to Harry.

“Mus’ think ‘m nuts ‘cause I’ve never said anythin’ before, bur’m scared. You’re a scary woman.”

I tried not to take offence to that, even though it was likely true. I had tried for the longest time to give off a very ambiguous aura. I didn’t want anyone to know me, least not the real me. I liked the illusion of being dead inside even if I was far from it.

“Loved y’ for so long now I can’ ‘ide it anymore.” He was really slurring now and words were about to fail him. Somehow, he was still holding onto me. “‘M like tha’ 1975 song.” I wanted to ask which one, but I didn’t have to. He proceeded to sing the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Just once he sang them, maybe slightly off pitch but it still sounded good. Not sure it would hold up to any of his previous performances, but I’d take it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a state of shock to be honest and the thought of moving terrified me. But then his grip around me loosened, and he let out a singular loud snore.

I pulled back, horrified, to see his sleeping face - mouth wide open. Another snore was released. “You are fucking joking.”

I sat up, his limp body falling away from me. I smacked his arm in the hopes of waking him, but he never flinched. “Harry,” I said, hitting him again.

Still no movement.

“Oi.” Smack.

Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do. Who does that? Who makes an admission like that and then falls asleep? And why did it have to be this boy? I was speechless, and when I finally managed to clamber off the bed I was also useless.

I stared at him with a look of bewilderment, as he lay there passed out on his unmade bed, mouth agape and naked besides his white y-fronts. It was then that the reality of what he’d said hit me, and I started to cry.

I wasn’t angry or upset - I was overwhelmed. Drunkenly, Harry had just told me he loved me. Then immediately passed out. Now I was left with my own feelings and his and no one to talk to about it. What was I supposed to do?

I desperately wanted to leave and get some sleep, but I also couldn’t help but think that would be morally inappropriate. Leaving a friend alone while dangerously intoxicated was how 50% of all murder documentaries started. Not that Harry was likely to get killed by an intruder in his mansion complete with security fortress. But he might accidentally fall down the stairs or choke on his own vomit.

And yet, the idea of staying in this massive and unfamiliar house to process all those thoughts made me even more hysterical. The idea alone provoked a loud sob, and I quickly covered my mouth because it was such a horrendous sound.

I made my decision that instant. I put Harry properly into bed with all of my remaining strength, covered him with his duvet, and then I fled from his house like a bat out of hell. On my way out, I took his spare keys with me.

I barely slept that night. My head was swimming and even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, my brain was in overdrive. That, and the cat was sleeping on my chest and purring right in my face. His whiskers tickled my nose.

I found myself thinking about the early stages of mine and Harry’s association.

I couldn’t have called him a friend when we first met because I hated him. I don’t think that feeling was ever reciprocated on his part but I couldn’t ever stand to be in the same room as him. Why? Because I felt the need to constantly contradict societal comments and beliefs. The world - at least people in my world - deemed him a golden boy who never did any wrong. I was convinced it wasn’t the case. My downfall was my lack of determination to prove it.

We met through mutual friends, as these things always seemed to happen. I couldn’t even remember which friend it was - neither me nor Harry talked to them anymore. But one day he was just there, and periodically from then onward he continued to show up. I couldn’t even remember when it was, but it was before he cut all his hair off. One Direction’s last few remaining days, perhaps? Anyway, he was suddenly omnipresent and came with an abundance of attention and it infuriated me.

I remember once, Harry confronted me on my obvious dislike for him. That was our first encounter collectively with ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’. I can’t remember exactly what I said but I wasn’t very nice and I remember the Bambi look in his eyes when I walked away from him. After that he was notably absent for some time. If I asked him about it now I’m not sure how honest he’d be about it. He was lucky enough to be able to claim work absences for long periods of time - I imagined he’d use that excuse. How truthful that would be, I didn’t know.

Our reconciliation came after that. He saw me alone in the nearby shop and asked me to join him for a coffee. I couldn’t really say no - it was a Sunday afternoon and I was only going back home to vegetate for the rest of the day. I think it was spring - I probably would’ve just read a book and gone to bed early. We spent the next 3 hours in Ginger & White, and after we got kicked out of there we went up to The Holly Bush, ironically.

I saw a different side to Harry that night, and I always put it down to having him to myself. There was no one else there with us apart from the locals in the pub who wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It was just us, and he was unapologetically himself, as was I. We suddenly had an entirely new perception of one another - a higher level of understanding. On that random Sunday evening alone, I came to appreciate Harry for just being Harry. I saw who he really was, and I liked him.

From then on, I enjoyed his company. It became a regular thing - an afternoon doing something random together, just the two of us. And it ranged from simple coffee shop talks to entire day trips out of London. I realised then that what we’d basically been doing was dating for about 5 years with no physical contact.

I laughed out loud, disturbing the cat. He ran off and left me alone.

We’d had our own intimate relationships with other people outside of our friendship, which I guess is why I’d never thought about it that way before. He also seemed to do that with multiple other people - I wasn’t the only one. Was I?

I never had to apologise for the night I was rude to him. I always wondered why, and I always berated myself for not saying I was sorry. I’d admitted I was wrong about him a long time ago, but only to myself. It seemed a bit too late to do it now, but I assumed he’d forgiven me. I could’ve been wrong.

I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. My alarm for work went off just 3 hours later and I burst into tears as soon as I realised the situation I was in. I called into work sick and went straight back to sleep.

How much more sleep I had was uncertain. It felt like only 2 hours, but it could’ve been more. Since I wasn’t working, I decided to get a McDonald’s after showering. Mostly for Harry rather than me, although I’m sure he’d make a comment about it.

I used the key I’d stolen last night to let myself in and went straight up to his bedroom with the McDonald’s in my right hand. Except I didn’t make it to his bedroom, because I found him on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, on his front with his cheek pressed to the tile floor.

“Harry…?”

He moaned, limply raising his hand and dropping it again immediately.

I moved into the room, leaving the McDonald’s in the hall because the smell would not go well with the pre-existing one in the room. It seemed Harry had vomited since I left. I sat on my knees beside him and stroked a finger through his curls, similar to how I had done last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” He said, voice whiny.

“No, I’m not surprised. I brought you some breakfast.”

He managed to lift his head and look towards me. I pointed at the hallway and he followed where my finger suggested.

“What is it?”

“McDonald’s.”

He screwed his face up. “You know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yes, that’s why I got you a Fillet-O-Fish. And mozzarella sticks.”

“Not very healthy.”

“Well, boiled eggs and avocado doesn’t make for very exciting hangover food if you ask me.”

He blew a breath out so that his lips wobbled. “True.”

“You gonna sit up and eat it?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Come on, then,”

I took his arm and helped pull him to a sitting position. He sat against the bathtub and rolled his head back, mouth open and breathing heavy. I left his food in his lap and sat opposite him with my back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the worst hangovers I’ve had in a long time.” He said, grimacing into the paper bag. At least he could form complete words this morning.

“How much do you remember?”

He laughed once. “Not much. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to come get me. I remember when you turned up, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting home.”

I swallowed thickly. That meant he probably didn’t remember telling me he was in love with me. Or rather, singing it.

“Next thing I’ve woke up in my pants about to vomit.”

“I think you were the most drunk I’ve ever seen you.”

He paused before he took a bite out of his fillet burger. “Really?”

“Hands down. You fell over nearly three times. And you wouldn’t let me go home.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised by that. I’m a very clingy drunk.”

“I was aware of that before last night.” I muttered. “Who were you with?”

“Tom and Tyler.”

“Ah, one of those evenings, was it?

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be quite that bad, though. Was only going for one.”

“That’s how they all start.”

“Mm, I should know better.”

“Yes you should.”

He laughed around his mouthful and then swallowed it. “This was a good call, thank you.”

“No problem. Although I have to say I did not expect to watch you eat it on the bathroom floor.”

“I know. Feel like a uni student.”

“I don’t think uni students have bathrooms this big.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything while his mouth was full. “Think I’m gonna have a shower, if you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Your house.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “Will you hang around a bit while I do?”

“Sure. I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Cool.” He grinned.

He shoved the empty box into the paper bag and screwed it up. I took the rubbish off him once we were standing again and left him alone to shower.

I did as I said I would and made him a coffee, and then helped myself to a glass of water and an apple out of the fruit bowl on his counter. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. He seemed to be behaving normally, so I was certain he’d forgotten his admission, but that worried me because I was now going to have to admit that I knew. And I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt.

When Harry did reappear he was fully clothed and looked a lot fresher than he had done before. His hair was damp but beginning to curl and his complexion had a bit more life to it.

“Feel better?”

“Loads better, thank you.”

“That’s good.” I said with a pressed smile. I pushed his coffee towards him.

“Cheers. Where’s yours?” He asked with a subtle frown as he took a sip out of his mug. He made an approving sound. “That’s good.”

“You know, I don’t actually like coffee.”

His frown deepened. “You have coffee all the time.”

“No, I have a mocha.”

“That’s still got coffee in it.”

“Yes, but the hot chocolate kind of makes it a fake coffee. A coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “I had a thought upstairs just now… why aren’t you at work?”

“Because I barely slept.”

He looked concerned. “You better not have stayed really late because of me. Should’ve kicked me in the crotch and told me to get over myself.”

“Oh believe me, I tried to leave you here to go to bed, H. But I actually got back at an acceptable hour, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Just a bad night?”

I hummed. “No, I still blame you.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter side.

I looked at the kitchen top and pursed my lips. “You… you told me something that gave me a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t give you some rubbish music samples, did I?”

I snorted. “I wish. Might’ve helped me sleep.”

“What then? I can’t remember anything.”

After a charged silence, I let out a long sigh. “You told me you love me. You said you love me, and then gave this little speech about missing me. And not just as friends - you said like The 1975’s song, I’m in love with you. But you sang that part, and then immediately fell asleep.”

When I met Harry’s gaze again he was staring at me, and biting his cheek. Neither of us said anything for a while. I was hoping he’d say something. Or perhaps me repeating what he said last night meant he felt like he didn’t need to say anymore.

I cocked my head. “Did you mean it?”

He stood taller, inhaling as his gaze became glassy. “Yeah. Yeah of course I did. Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, obviously. But I meant it, although I didn’t mean to tell you in that way… you know, while utterly shit faced.”

“You were completely shit faced.”

“Yeah… no, that’s not how I planned on telling you.”

“Was there a different plan?”

“Maybe…” He turned his nose up and scratched the back of his head. “If I told you what it was you’d hate it-,”

“You don’t know that.” I retorted.

He raised a judgemental brow at me. “Er, yes I do.”

I laughed and put my head on the table. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, but it had a lightheartedness to it, “of course I fucking meant it. Been living with it for ages - it’s all had time to brew. Aged like a fine wine.”

I started laughing, and then I felt his arms wrap around my chest. I was pulled up by him to stand straighter, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. His back was against my front and it felt quite nice. I don’t think we’d ever stood like that before.

“Your love has aged like a fine wine?”

“Sounds right cheap when you say it like that.”

“You said it. That is literally what you said.” I was still laughing.

“I know.” He whimpered.

I twisted my head to look at him, but he’d hidden his face. “You’re gonna have to bear with me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, this is a lot for me. I’m still… processing it, and I don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend and I love you, of course I do. Just…”

“Not in love with me yet.” He concluded.

“Yet.” I sniggered.

“I’ll remain optimistic, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He giggled, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Take your time. Preferably not forever though, ‘cause… the biological clock is ticking.”

I snorted again. “Reel it in.”

“Sorry.” He hummed and squeezed my shoulders tightly. “I am going to have a movie day on the sofa. Do you want to stay?”

“For that I do, fuck yeah.”

“Sweet… go and make yourself comfy. I’ll get the snacks.”

He bumped my hip with his when I passed him so I kicked him back. He gave a childish laugh, and I shook my head at him, but I found as I wandered into his overcompensating living room that I had this giddy feeling in my stomach I’d never felt with him before.

What was I, the most stubborn woman on Earth, going to do?

“What d’you want, H?”

“Not a very charming greeting.” He groused.

I pouted. “You’re interrupting my bath time.”

“Is there some space left in the bathtub?”

I smirked and sank lower into the water. “For you? Never.”

“Hey!”

“Always,” I laughed around my correction, “I meant always.”

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled. “I was calling because I think it might be my turn to get dinner. So what do you fancy?”

“Well, you, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His matter-of-fact tone matched mine. I could imagine him nodding his head. “How about a chippy?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. My usual please.”

“Curry sauce too?”

“Wouldn’t be my usual without it.”

“Just checking. So, I will be knocking on your door within the next hour. Make the most of that bath ‘cause I’m coming.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.”

“Bye-bye.”

“Love you!” I shouted before he could put the phone down.

He was quiet for a minute. “Blimey. Don’t need to shout it, darlin’.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Just in case you forgot.”

“I could never. But I love you more. See you shortly.”

“Okay, bye-bye. Love you most.”

“No!” He shouted, but I cut him off before he could refute it more.

I felt smug. I let out a satisfied sigh and laid my head back against the edge of the tub.

I had taken my time in coming around to Harry’s admission, but he was incredibly patient with me and I was always grateful for that. It had been little over a year since his little bender, and I felt really good about everything. We felt really good about everything.

Our relationship seemed to only be moving up at a pace we were both happy with, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. All we had to do was keep it that way, and I had every confidence we could.

~~~

If you read this far, thank you <3

Come Talk To Me

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harryonbroadwayficchallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst imagine #harry styles angst imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #i forgot how much i fucking hate writing tags on the bottom of posts #this is endless

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theminecraftbee · 2 months

Note

For anyone looking to make their own Persona AUs, the Shin Megami Tensei wiki is honestly one of the better places to research the recurring tropes of various social links (ie, the Magician typically being the Protagonist's first male friend, the Justice typically being prone to anger). Do note that because of the nature of the Persona and SMT franchises you'll find potentially triggering content, so do tread lightly!

yes, very true! the wiki is SUPER HELPFUL in that regard!

and this is a good time to bring up actually: if my talking about persona has made you interested in playing, yay! they’re super cool and fun games! HOWEVER, they have some pretty big content warnings on them. (here the content warnings are for p3/p4/p5; I would be shocked if these themes aren’t in p1/p2, but I haven’t played those.)

all three games have at least some mentions/relevant sexual assault

all three games have scenes of severe bullying

all three games discuss suicide

all three games have death, including major character death, as a theme, with persona 3 having death be its MAIN theme.

all three games have some elements of institutionalized abuse as part of their story

familial/child abuse is also in at least one social link in all three games, and is a major plot point in at least p3 and p5.

mental health in general is a major theme of all three games.

all three games have some element of unreality as a theme.

additionally, while the above are the things I think atlus would say they intentionally put in as heavy themes, persona also has some… “jokes”… that it is irresponsible to make a recommendation without mentioning.

atlus tends to use the “predatory gay man” and “predatory trans woman” bit for laughs. yes, I’m sorry, in all three games, although I was pleasantly surprised to see they’d actually removed that from persona 3 in p3 reload! but it’s in one scene in p5, and in p4 it’s… complicated. one of the lead characters is gay, and part of his character arc is about internalized homophobia. however, another character will make statements like he’s scared to share a tent with him, which is never treated as justified but IS treated as a “joke”, on account of the character doing the homophobia being a comic relief character. additionally, naoto’s character arc can easily be read as transphobic (as naoto needing to accept being a woman rather than a man), although I know different people have different reactions to this arc. p4 is my favorite but it is NOT a recommendation I give without content warnings for a reason.

also, while p4 as a game is well aware of the amount of violence against women in it and the bad guy who does it is a nihilist and a loser, it is a major plot point, and it’s not always treated with grace.

also, all three games notoriously have at least one “comedy relief” scene of the guys picking up women and honestly it’s normally more like, anime cringe than actually misogynistic but it feels like I should bring it up?

also in both p3 and p5 there are social links that can lead to you flirting with your teacher. yeah. it’s avoidable but it’s sure there.

overall: REALLY GOOD GAMES, and when the writing is good in them it’s REALLY GOOD. they’re also consistently games that people who otherwise wouldn’t be into an 100-hour jrpgs end up realizing why people like the genre with! but they are ALSO games where the content warnings here are warranted!

#answered #latenitewaffles

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verybigvag · 3 months

Text

There's been a lot of recent discussion with Angel Dust, his scene Poison, and Its interpretation. I would like to talk about it.

⚠️ Trigger warning for discussion of Sexual Violence/Assault, Abuse, Drug Use, fetishization, and In*c'est mention ⚠️

I would like to start by saying that I wanna be able to have more posts like this and discuss topics both serious and not for media/entertainment here on Tumblr, however, I would like to keep articulate and not too long but that won't be the case here lol.

In Episode 4 of Hazbin Hotel 'Masquerade', there is a musical scene showcasing Angel Dust singing 'Poison' about his trauma and current situation of being sexually abused, and taken advantage of by the porn industry and how he copes with drug addiction, masking himself and relying on his hypersexuality to get through it with the possibility of losing himself to it all and killing him in the end.

While the scene doesn't show his assault outright, it is rather disturbing and obvious imagery of his situation. Back in 2017 there was a music video for a fan song Addict turned soft canon at the time. It was the original showcase for what we will get for Angel dust as a character and his nuances going into the show, as well as the first instances of Valentino taking advantage of him. While the music video isn't as dark as poison, he does an amazing job at just that. Not needed to go so far and yet it's so obvious through the animation.

Now the question I would like to give my opinion on is, Is Poison fetishizing Angel's abuse? In my personal opinion and the show's intention... No.

Poison is a disturbing scene, it's dark and almost uncensored. There's an argument to be made that it's supposed to make you uncomfortable and while that is true, nobody should use that as justification to talk down to victims when they have something to say. I'm a victim myself and frankly, I'm conflicted on how I feel about this. I think the scene does work in the fact that it gives Angel's perspective well what he sees and how he wants others to perceive him. Then we have the fact that the show is presenting that angel situation is something to take seriously but will characters harass others and the occasional r*ape joke. (Sir Pentious in the most recent example)

People are conflicted and at times it's unsure how some perceive this. It's almost whiplash to see SA played for laughs then later in the same episode, we see a character stand up to their abuser and is presented as a triumphant moment, a starting point and Proof he is strong and can make it out and is also protecting his friend, showing he good character traits, someone who cares for other and wants to protect them.

I think people are right to point out its writing issues with its comedy and tone armor and victims have every right to point that out.

There is more to this situation I will get into later in the post that Understandably makes people uncomfortable given the context.

It's almost like a popstar giving a performance, letting their persona out on stage; either Kampy, unapologetically themselves, hypersexual and glamorous. This is very common with mainstream I industry musicians/pop stars.

While it's not the case for every artist, it's well known that most are subjected to sexualization from the audience and media (unless they lean into that hypersexual persona).

Angel Dust is a product of his trauma and environment. With that I don't think the show will actually get into how unethical and exploitative the porn industry is (which I think they should), rather just how Angel is being exploited.

Now whether fans like it or not, your favorite media will be criticized for both warranted and ridiculous reasons.

There seems to be an issue with the stans of Hazbin Hotel and constantly deflecting any criticisms of the show. This isn't the case for all the fans but it's still common, unfortunately.

There are people who don't know what it's like to have a history of sexual violence and grooming, and that's ok. It's something I never want to wish upon anyone. It'll affect you for the rest of your life. Some days are better than others but it's not the same for everyone, and universally Trauma is processed differently. There will be experiences that many can relate to; Hypersexuality being one way, some want to reclaim themselves and disassociate sex from the experience and the feelings of uncleanliness that comes with it.

We don't need others who have an unhealthy attachment to a show to constantly speak over those who disagree with Angel's visual representation of his sexual exploitation/assault. Many have stated they don't have any issue with their scene, AND MANY others disagree and They are BOTH right to feel that way. We don't need fans who are selective with victims and their input on a serious nuanced topic.

The sentiment should be that we shouldn't be speaking over anyone who's been victimized, groomed, assaulted, and experienced similar circumstances. Whether they validate your opinions or not.

I still want to clarify, that it's ok to enjoy dark media. It's ok to enjoy what you want. In my opinion, there is a point where you go past safe consumption to obsession with problematic media that's concerning.

If you want to enjoy Valentino and Go ahead. Villains are popular for a reason and it's easy to enjoy characters who are Kampy yet evil in nature. Merchandise of villains is nothing new so I don't see why it's an issue now (unless it depicts said inappropriate tendencies in a glamorized light)

With that said, there was understandable discomfort knowing the artist who storyboarded poison.

I would go into details here but I recommend you go and read this thread by Uninformed Artist, It goes over everything you need to know but to keep it short, they have a r*ape fetish.

People are free to feel however they want about this, especially since there could be a chance Raphielles may have had interior motives but at the moment we can't say for sure and if so, it was conveyed at all in the scene. personally, It feels disingenuous to claim that they want to take the said topic seriously but aren't considerate of the team representing it.

Speaking of that, I may diverge a bit but I want to give an example...

This reminded me of another similar situation with another animated show; Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

⚠️Incest Warning ⚠️

On Twitter an artist who goes by Sheldon made this below regarding a scene they storyboarded for an episode in season 2 called 'The Lair Games' and yes it did make it into the show.

Sheldon replied to a user who partakes in problematic content

To clarify, TCEST is what people refer to as shipping Any of the Main Brothers; Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, And Michelangelo in the TMNT franchise. Yes, this means romantic/sexual.

There was much discomfort from many fans that was warranted given the implications. While something like this will never be implied for Canon for any TMNT iteration, it's weird knowing there may have been certain intentions from Sheldon.

With that said there was another reply clarifying the original tweet was a joke. I'd personally say it's really weird to make that type of joke in the first place and attract people you don't want to interact with and it's not a funny joke to begin with.

But I sincerely hope it was just a terrible joke in bad taste, That's hope I'm personally going to take it as this was about 2 years ago and the rise of the TMNT has unfortunately ended. Hazbin Hotel, however, is just getting started.

I do wish the best for the show and that it grows into something amazing, along with the writers getting into their element and doing these characters justice and I hope there is a bit more consideration that goes into depicting more serious topics later on.

So, I'm not sure how to end this but here we are. I would like to thank all of you for reading. If you have your input feel free to add on!

Make sure to be kind to each other and stay hydrated 💛💛💛

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel poison #media analysis #content warning #media discussion #triggering topics #hazbin angel dust

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pink-oc-tournament · 11 months

Text

PINK LOVERS OF THE WORLD, ASSEMBLE!

This is a poll tournament for original characters- Specifically, for characters who are PINK! If you have an OC who's dedicated their aesthetic to that classic Barbie Doll Pink, this is the OC tournament for you!

RULES:

1: Your character's palette, obviously, must primarily be Pink. Ideally it should be your OC's primary color, but I'll accept characters who's palettes are at least 50% pink (like, if your character is mostly pink AND purple, as long as its distributed equally I'll allow it.) It does not have to be any particular shade of pink, it can be more red, less red, bright and hot, light and pastel, etc, as long as it can easily be read as pink and not another color!

2: The character you submit must be yours. You cannot submit other people’s characters for them. If the character is shared between two or more people, all owners must sign off on submitting them into the competition.

3: Fandom OCs are NOT allowed. We all love fandom OCs, but for this competition I don’t want fandom bias to get in the way. The character must come solely from your own mind. It can draw inspiration from other media, but it must still be an original character.

4: Please avoid triggering subjects. Serious topics in characters stories/backstories is fine, but please avoid submitting characters who’s stories involve bigotry, sexual violence, or anything else that might warrant a serious content warning. While there is a time and a place for exploring those topics, this is not it. This is supposed to be lighthearted!

5: While you can submit multiple characters separately, only one OC can be selected for the tournament. This is to avoid one person having multiple chances to win. This also means you cannot submit groups or multiple characters who are paired together. Every match up should be one on one!

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Propaganda is allowed and encouraged! Once the characters have been selected and announced, there will be a period before the actual match ups start where people can submit propaganda! This can come from the creators of the OC’s or even from friends of the creator who are familiar with the OC in question, if they so choose! Propaganda can be anything from art, to writing, to playlists, etc! All propaganda will be tagged as propaganda and as the character’s name!

To keep this competition shorter than the last one, this time around I am only allowing 16 entrants! If I get more than that before I shut down submissions, I'll likely pick and choose who goes in. If your OC doesn't make it in, it's no hard feelings! There's always the next tournament I'll host :]

SUBMISSIONS ARE CLOSED! THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR SUBMITTING!

I'll see you all there! <3

#important: im housesitting currently so I'm not always able to get to my PC- so if setup takes longer than usual thats why lol #oc poll #oc tournament #tournament #poll #pink #oc

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weenwrites · 5 months

Note

Can you do Predaking Skylynx and Darksteel with S/O with terminal cancer (sorry if this theme makes tou uncomfortable)

Cancer

Summary - When your time is finite, how do your lovers spend their time with you? Characters - Predaking, Skylynx, Darksteel Content - Angst, Hurt & Comfort Category - Headcanons Trigger Warnings - Terminal Illness Mention, Cancer Mention

✎ A/N: It's fine! I'm sorry this came rather late but, I hope you enjoy what I wrote.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Predaking

He understands well that your time is limited, so he tries his hardest in order to see every wish of yours come to fruition, no matter what he has to do in order to make it come true. If you've ever wished to see a certain part of the world, he'll bring you there in a heart-beat. Or if you just want to be in the company of your loved ones he'll bring them to you or you to them, whichever is easier and faster. He'd rip the stars down from the sky and serve you the moon on a silver platter even if you did so little as mention the notion in passing.

He's tried to learn as much as he could about your condition, whether it be from asking you or doing research of his own, so he's somewhat familiar with the side-effects that come with terminal cancer and he's always on the lookout for them. He encourages you to take care of yourself and drink plenty of water, and if you ever begin mentioning signs of pain, he's quick to ask where to take you. If it's to the hospital, he couldn't care less about being seen if it means you'll be alright. Or when you get cold he tries his best to warm you up, whether it's by curling up around you, or setting up a little fire.

If you do any activities outdoors or away from your home, he'll personally be there to accompany you whenever he can.

Whenever there are difficult nights where you're brought down by the gravity of the situation, Predaking has made it clear that you could come to him for support whenever you experience times like these.

Skylynx

And when he already thought your life was short enough, it had to be cut even shorter... As opposed to the other two, he opts to take a—for lack of a better word—more "mental health-centered" take to this. That is to say, he doesn't try to make you feel happy all the time or he doesn't try to make every day better than the last, but that doesn't mean he just lets you be sad either.

He'll be there to listen to you talk about how you feel about this whole thing, and if you have nothing to say well he'll do whatever he can to comfort you if you come to tears. And whether you just want to sit with your emotions for a while, or distract yourself from them, he'll go with whatever you want to do.

And as per usual, he does try to keep you company whenever he can. Even if it's doing something very simple and mundane, he's willing to sit there and be with you for as long as he can.

Darksteel

He's upset that something like this is going to take you from him, and there's nothing he can do about it, but he tries not to linger on it for too long. He doesn't want your final moments together to bring nothing but tears when he looks back on them in the future, and besides... Things are already depressing enough as they are, he's not gonna rub any more salt in the wound.

He goes out of his way to make you laugh or smile however he can and as much as possible, even if it warrants Skylynx hitting him over the head for being annoying. And especially if you start to feel depressed, he's completely ready to bend over backwards just to hear your laughter.

If there's anything you're unsure about doing while you still can, he'll try to urge you to do it, especially if you think you might come to regret it. But if you tell him that your decision is final or that you really aren't sure, he won't try to push it anymore.

He tries to see to it that you get to do whatever you want to do no matter what that may be. Even if you want to do something simple that you enjoy, he wouldn't hesitate to crush anyone who tried to interrupt you.

#tfp x reader #tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #tfp predaking #predaking x reader #tfp skylynx #skylynx x reader #tfp darksteel #darksteel x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #tw terminal illness #terminal illness tw #terminal illness #tw cancer #cancer tw #cancer #weenwrites

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rockbottomhq · 6 months

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hey angels! we just wanted to drop in very quickly to touch base on a few things regarding general group etiquette and expectations around activity. i know we say this all the time, but we mean it when we say you guys are genuinely an incredible bunch of writers and we are so incredibly pleased with how this group has flourished so far. when we make these notes, it's really just to keep things going as smoothly as they have so far.

when it comes to bringing concerns to us, please keep in mind that there is very little we can do if a concern is brought to us anonymously. we don't post anonymous concerns on the dashboard and there's very little, if anything, we can do to reach out to you to further discuss, gain clarity, and reach a resolution on an issue when they are brought to us without a way to identify the member in need. we understand that sometimes coming forward about something is an uncomfortable experience, but as mods, our number goal is member comfort within our group. it is something we take very seriously, so please keep that in mind when something is bothering you. we hate feeling like our hands are tied when it comes to something that may have a simple solution.

to dive a little deeper into the topic of member comfort, we just want to remind you guys to make sure that you're tagging things accordingly. if you're second guessing whether or not something on the dash should be tagged, it's better to play it safe and tag something rather than leave it untagged and run the risk of making someone uncomfortable. here is our current, up to date trigger list. if there's something missing there that you think should be on there, or if we're missing any of your personal triggers, please reach out to us asap and we'll get the list updated. taking the extra second to make sure something is tagged is a small action that goes a long way in making your fellow dash friends feel taken care of and it's something we appreciate greatly.

finally, we want to take a second to reiterate our activity rules. they're pretty laid back: five days without posting gets you a warning, seven days without posting deems you inactive and warrants an unfollow. we consider excessive reblogs with no original content in between and excessive days between posts only to keep within the activity parameters to be rolehogging. since activity checks are posted at our discretion and not on a set schedule, there will be times that members reach 7 days inactive without receiving a prior warning. it is rare that this will happen, but when it does, the activity rule still applies. members that reach activity that would like to still remain part of rock bottom are always welcome to reapply. we also have a hiatus form readily available for anyone who may need to step away from the group but want to protect their roles.

that's all for now! please give this post a little like once you've read through it. and as always, thank you guys for making rock bottom such a pleasure to mod.

#rb.note

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wangxianficfinder · 8 months

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can y'all please differentiate between "trigger warning" and "content warning." trigger warning for lan wangji getting his ass handed to him is not triggering, he is a character. if people don't want to read that content because it makes them uncomfortable then a Content Warning is warranted but it isn't "triggering."

It can be triggering for some people depending on the context of the fic but I do agree that TW and CW are different. We will try to be more specific in the future ^^

Also, I'm sorry if this comes off rude, but just because he is a fictional character does not mean that something happening to him would not be triggering to someone. That is why trigger warnings exists.

- Mod C

#mod c #answers

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veryloudbrain · 1 month

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searching walty on xitter was a fucking mistake oh my god ??

my dash warned me and i still did it so i only really have myself to blame but i get CURIOUS okay ?

anyways.. why on earth are people so triggered by this ship ? what abt it pisses people off sm i'm confused. like did some shippers do something to warrant this ? or do they just hate our guts for no reason ?? it's a harmless ship and even uno (walter's actor) seemed to be very aware of the ship and even open to it. WHERE DID THE HATE COME FROM ???

this is why i prefer tumblr (which is a wild thing to say)

gonna go off on a side rant but anyway:

at least people here who don't ship it are civil abt it. i read the whole toxic hetero parallel post which obviously does not see them as a (potential)couple, but at no point does the blog attack shippers.

i, in case it wasn't obvious, wholeheartedly disagree with said post. but it's an interesting take. it's a great fucking analysis regardless of if i agree with the conclusion. and you don't see me (or anyone else that i'm aware of) attacking the blog.

it just makes me so sad how toxic fandom can get- especially on xitter.

don't like ? that's fair. don't interact with it !!!

#walty #valty #young royals #henry x walter

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wounds-seen-and-unseen · 4 months

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Vagdhandaja-Prologue

The actual fic scenes will be under the cut. This is world building of a sorts before the cut.

Arjun’s character here is very, very removed from canon (obviously, seeing that canon is an epic that is more than a 1000 years old) so I am only going to explain whatever is relevant to this story.

The milieu I am going for is an alternate universe of Delhi (India’s capital, in case anyone does not know) where the Kauraveya family are quite influential politicians for the most part. Arjun is the cherished youngest son of the family, very close to his mother, having lost his father as a child. He is a decorated war hero, known for both his battle prowess and his gallantry. He is an old school gentleman, so to speak. He values all human life, he prefers to avoid loss of life as much as possible. He married his wife, Subhadra, for love. Her brother, Krishn is his best friend. At the beginning of this story, he is escaping from a place he barely remembers.

Satyaka, the PoV for the prologue, is distantly related to Krishn, and by extension, Arjun’s mother Pritha, (Krishn is canonically Arjun’s first cousin, in this story, their blood relationship may be a little more removed). His son, Yuyudhana, not mentioned in this chapter by name, is Subhadra and Krishn’s friend here. I think that’s all the background needed for this story for now, but if something is unclear, please feel free to DM or ask me!

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, discussion of intravenous drug use, disoriented character, brief emeto mention, distressed character.

Tagging @blue-lotus333 and @whither-wander-whump

Please ask or message if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list!

There are a few Sanskrit terms used here, meanings given below:

1. Pitr-shraadh: Shraadh is a Hindu ritual, in which one honours the dead. Pitr-shraadh specifically, as far as I know, is a ritual in which one honours their ancestors.

2. Pooja: Prayer ritual

3. Mata: Mother (respectful)

Prologue

Satyaka Varshney, on the way to the capital

I click the ignition off, glancing cursorily by my side at my son, fast asleep. I suppose a small break wouldn’t hurt.

Cracking my aching knuckles, I open the car door, sliding out and stretching. The wind is rustling through crowded forest greenery, fresh and clean. An unfamiliar thump directs my gaze to my son once more, still peacefully sleeping in the car. Keeping him in the line of my sight, I edge forward.

That doesn’t turn out to be a very wise thing to do in the pitch black of the depth of night, as I knock into something. Blindly reaching out, my hand hits solid flesh.

I can feel the flinch beneath my fingers, hear the faintly clicking, chattering teeth.

‘S-so-sorry. Plea-please don’t-don’t-they-I’- I blink. In front of me is a young man, hardly visible in the dark.

Whatever little I can see of him, he is obviously scared, shaking, streaks of mud on his torn shirt, what once used to probably be military camouflage. ‘I’m sorry, s-sir.’ He says, cringing away from me. ‘Hey there, young man,’ I whisper, the boy putting in my mind a spooked horse. ‘It’s alright. I’m not going to turn you in. You on the run from those outlaws down there?’ ‘Out-outlaws? Sir?’ The frank confusion in his voice has me backtrack. What the hell has happened to this young man?

‘Never mind that. Where are you coming from? Do you have anywhere to go to?’

He blinks. Looks pensive for a moment, then, face tight and eyes on the floor, he whispers, voice hoarse, ‘I…I am not sure, sir. I don’t-I don’t know what this place is. Where are we?’ I sigh. ‘Are you alright?’ The boy seems disoriented enough to warrant that insipid question. He looks down at himself, then musters a smile as he looks back up, still not meeting my eyes. ‘I think so, sir? I will be.’

‘You sure don’t look it,’ I mutter, shucking off my coat, looking critically at him, the ceaseless shivering, the remnants of bloodstains on his face. I hand the coat over to him. ‘Here. You look like you need it. And this place isn’t safe. Would you like to come with me?’ His gaze skitters away from me. ‘I-thank you sir, but I’m dirty. I wouldn’t want to be a burden.’ He’s clearly making effort to pronounce his words right. ‘And you aren’t. I have a son your age. I’d want him to be safe, just like I’m sure your family wants you safe and sound.’ I wrap the coat around his shaking shoulders. ‘There.’ He flinches away from my touch. ‘Easy. It’s alright. Can you walk?’ He nods. ‘Yes. I will. Where’- ‘I’ll tell you. Follow me.’ He does that obediently enough, although he looks over his shoulder for every step he takes. From what I can understand of his situation, I don’t blame him for the same.

Once we are leaning against the hood of my car, I probe gently. ‘Look, kid, I want to help you. Honestly. But I can’t do that if you don’t tell me anything.’ Frustration echoes in his voice as he replies ‘I am grateful, sir, but I really don’t-I remember, I had been on duty. I had asked leave from my senior so that I could do the pitr shraadh. I finished the pooja. I drank some water that was in my canteen, and then…then my head spun. Some people were trying to-to drag me off. I don’t know why, I’d never seen them before. I fought as best as I could. But I lost. That’s all I know. Then I woke up shaking on some unknown floor. I escaped as soon as I could. Honestly, sir, I’m not-I don’t lie. I don’t. You’ve done so much…I wouldn’t.’ His shivering increases as he finishes his speech, and he stumbles. ‘Whoa!’ ‘I…sorry, sir. I’m dizzy.’ ‘I can see that, kid. How long has it been since you ate?’ I ask, keeping a firm hold of his hand. He shakes his head. ‘Okay. Okay. I think these outlaws did you in. We’re at the edge of their outpost. You seem to be real lucky that they haven’t caught you yet. Tell me where you want to go, ‘kay? I’ll see if I can help you there.’ ‘To the capital. The Kauraveya Mansion.’ ‘You’re one of ‘em, huh? Some distant coz of mine married into that family. The younger son, the legitimate one, that is. I remember attending her wedding, barely married myself, too besotted by my own wife, with eyes for nought but the food. I hear the lady is mighty beautiful, though.’ He smiles, I can see the flash of teeth in the dark, feel the tense pull of his shoulder relax slightly under my hand.

‘The most beautiful in the world,’ he says, softly. ‘She is my mother. I’ll tell her that I heard the food in her wedding was really nice.’ I laugh. ‘You’re one of the Vrishni clan, then, sir? Krishn said that his clan is huge.’ ‘Aye. So you’re one of us, too, in a way.’ He shrugs. ‘I suppose so?’ ‘Of course you are. However distant, ain’t a matter. Once a connection is established, it’s there forever. You know Krishn?’ I shake my head. ‘Course you do. Never mind that, come in,’ I open the door of my car. ‘Get a bit warm, have somethin’ to drink. Wouldn’t want you to collapse like that again. Should coz find out her kiddo fainted on my watch, I’m sure she’d have my head.’ He laughs, soft and sincere. ‘Her name is Pritha. I’m Arjun. And you’re probably right, mata is very…protective.’ ‘As she very well should be, a handsome young lad like you.’ He looks down. ‘Is that a blush? I see you aren’t used to teasing yet.’

He peeks into the car. ‘Careful there. My young bison is snoring in here.’ ‘Dad. ‘M not a bison of any sort! And who’s this?’ ‘Cousin o’ yours. Arjun Kauraveya, I take it?’ He nods. My son starts upright. ‘Krishn’s brother-in-law? His best friend? Whoa. I met their family a few days ago. Both the ladies were…pretty distraught.’

The boy at my side closes his eyes, obviously affected. ‘My fault,’ he whispers. I cuff my idiot of a kid. ‘Motor mouth, can’t you think of what you speak?’ I hiss at him, jerking my chin at the distraught younger man.

‘And you.’ I turn to Arjun. ‘None of that, kid. You didn’t ask to be captured like that.’ ‘No, but’- ‘Hey, you’re gonna go home, alright? They’re yours to take care of.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,’ my son murmurs. Arjun shakes his head. ‘It’s alright…you were honest, thank you for that.’ My son shakes his head in return. ‘No. It’s not like you ran off on your own. You were on duty, right?’ Neither I nor Arjun correct him, leaving him to his ignorance. ‘You’re doing your best, that’s all you can do.’ The other man doesn’t look very convinced but nods his head.

I hand him a bottle of water. ‘There you go. Drink up.’ His hand shakes as he takes the bottle. I drank the water in my canteen, I remember him saying. And then my head spun. Small wonder he is scared. I take it back, drinking a gulp myself. ‘There. It’s safe, son.’ His gaze flies to mine, finding the floor again in a flash. ‘I’m’- I cut him off. ‘Nothin’ to say sorry for. Given what you’re comin’ from, it’s perfectly understandable.’

Once he’s had the water, I gesture to a sandwich. ‘Get some food inside ya, ‘kay? I can drive you to the capital, sure, we gotta go there, too. Not your house, of course not, but Lutyen’s street should work? He’s wide-eyed, staring at me as if afraid to believe. ‘Sir..I can’t ask that’- ‘Nah, you ain’t askin’. Don’t worry about it. Go on, eat the thing.’

He tries. A bite later, he stops. ‘I don’t think I can,’ he says, sounding guilty. ‘What’s the matter, kiddo?’ ‘I might be si’- he’s cut off as he gags, shoving his head out of the window. ‘Whoa. Okay. Want me to stop the car?’ He shakes his head jerkily. ‘N-no. It’s ‘kay.’

‘Wait.’ My son’s voice is cool. ‘Yeah?’ Arjun asks. ‘Those marks on your arm…did you do that? Are you an IV user? Is that why you’re confused?’ ‘W-what?’ ‘Hey!’ I interject, the kid clearly struggling to understand the pointed question. ‘He was kidnapped, bud, he didn’t’- ‘No!’ It’s the loudest I’ve heard his voice. ‘No, I wouldn’t. Mata hates that kinda stuff, I don’t even drink.’ He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t do this, please believe me.’

I glare at my son. ‘Apologize. Seriously, is this the kind of question you ask?’ Arjun blanches. ‘I-I didn’t, but…they held me down, I’m-I’m remembering.’ His voice is blank. His eyes are flaring wide as they turn to me. ‘Could they have drugged…’ he trails off. ‘They might have,’ he answers himself. ‘Maybe that’s why I feel sick. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I fought, I did, I did, I’-

‘Hey.’ My son intercedes as the younger man’s breathing quickens. ‘I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t know. If what you say is true, and I believe it is, you are not to blame. Take a breath, okay?’ He does. ‘Good. Now, just get it out, what you remember. Maybe we can help you piece it together.’ ‘Yeah…’ he murmurs, shaky. ‘Okay. I…oh. Oh, no. No, no, no. No…’ His voice falters and breaks as he repeats a frantic denial. ‘What happened?’ I ask, trying to break him out. ‘I-I broke my vow, I broke it!’ He’s vitriolic, sheer loathing in his voice. ‘God, I broke it…How could I have done it?’ ‘You did what you had to survive, kid, it’s-you can make it better, okay?’ ‘No,’ he says, his voice a knell of grief. ‘What I did…it’s unforgivable.’

#my writing #nila writes #fic: vagdhandaja #arjun kauraveya #arjun #satyaka #prologue #tw panic attacks #tw iv drug use #tw disorientation #tw vomiting #archer writes

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jule1122 · 1 year

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Malex Fic - I just wanted to get back to where you are

Sneaking in with my April fic for @alexguerinappreciation. I went with the Picspiration from this post. Most of this fic takes place in Alex’s nightmare so there is canon type violence, references to torture and to the 1x06 shed scene. This is of course a happy ending.

I just wanted to get back to where you are on AO3

Title from “My Own Soul’s Warning” by The Killers

Summary: When Alex's work triggers a nightmare, Michael is there to pull him back.

“Hey.”

Alex looks up at the sound of Michael’s voice. He can’t help but smile when he sees Michael leaning against the wall, wearing nothing but boxers. His hair is a mess, his smile sleepy and Alex wonders just how late it is.

“You coming to bed soon?” Michael asks. “It’s lonely without you.”

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Alex agrees, unable to resist his husband. “Just let me put these away first.” Alex looks down at the files he was working on and panics for a minute. He hastily closes them and shoves them in his bag, locking it before looking back up.

Alex breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Michael is already gone. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, bringing these files home where Michael could have seen them. As far a Project Shephard files go there are fairly tame - no photos or descriptions of torture. But he still tries to keep that part of his job separate from Michael.

Eduardo had given Alex the files the other day. They were early records - mostly detailing the efforts made to locate additional aliens in the first years after the crash. Alex had been looking for any mention of Jones - either a local mentioning him as someone who recently came to town or even the possibility that Jones would have made himself part of the investigation just to see what Project Shephard knew. But he’d found nothing so far. He’ll take the files back to his office in the morning and be sure to leave them there. Alex rubs his eyes and frowns, it’s not like him to be so careless.

When Alex makes it to the bedroom, Michael is already asleep. He gets into bed as quietly as he can. Michael doesn’t stir even when Alex moves closer and wraps his arm around Michael’s waist. He relaxes into the warmth of Michael’s body, and lets the steady sound of his breathing lull him to sleep.

“Manes, Report.”

Alex’s eyes fly open at the barked order. “Manes reporting, Sir,” he responds automatically as he tries to get his bearings.

His commanding officer stares at him from across the desk, and Alex resists the urge to shift in the uncomfortable chair. He has no idea what he’s supposed to be reporting on and it feels wrong to be here. He was somewhere else before, he’s sure of it, but he can’t remember where.

“Report all intel on the enemy combatant,” is the expanded order.

“Sir,” Alex stalls.

A folder is slapped down on the desk, and Alex’s blood runs cold when he sees the picture of Michael. That can’t be right. He was just with Michael - wasn’t he? Alex moves to stand up but falters when he feels both feet against the floor. His body is wrong.

“Report!”

Alex is out of time. Any more delay will be seen as insubordination. “There is no intel. The target is not an enemy combatant, Sir.”

“Bullshit,” Alex’s commander moves to stand in front of him, but Alex holds his eyes and doesn’t flinch.

“I investigated the target thoroughly, Sir. There is no evidence of treason or suspicious behavior. He does not warrant further attention.” Alex keeps his voice steady and clear. He has to protect Michael, has to make sure he is taken off the radar.

“Treason,” his commander leans close to Alex’s face, his voice deceptively soft. “That’s what you are doing here Manes, committing treason. Betraying your country, your species, for what, a good fuck? Someone to suck your dick? Plenty of homesick boys you can convince to do that for you here.”

Alex starts to protest and realizes he’s not sitting in the chair, he’s bound to it. His hands are cuffed behind the chair back, his legs shackled to the chair. He’s not in an office, but in a cell block, and one of those cells is destined to be his.

“This is your last chance. We know what he is, we don’t need you for that, but you can tell us where he is. Where did you hide him?”

Alex shakes his head. He didn’t hide Michael, Michael’s at home, their home. But if Alex is still in the Air Force, if he still has both his legs, he and Michael don’t have a home. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, doesn’t know what’s real, but he has to protect Michael.

“Hero or whore, Manes. You decide.”

Alex doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. His silence is statement enough.

“Whore it is. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Alex doesn't look away even as the fist slams into his face.

“God, you’re pathetic.”

Alex opens his eyes. “Flint?” he asks in confusion when he sees his brother standing in front of him.

“So busy protecting your lover,” he practically spits the word, “you forget to protect yourself. You didn’t even put up a fight.” Flint waves a taser in his face.

“You never did fight fair,” Alex taunts him. He tests his bindings when Flint looks away. His hands are still cuffed, but only his left leg is shackled since his right leg ends below his knee. He doesn’t know what it says about him that he finds that comforting.

“You’re a traitor, Alex. You don’t get fair.”

“What do you want?” Alex doesn’t understand how Flint is even here. Last he heard he was in a military prison on the East Coast. Alex tries to remember more, tries to remember where and why, but he can’t focus. It’s like as soon as he tries to focus on something, it slips through his head.

“From you, nothing,” Flint replies. “You’re just the bait. Kidnapping the alien is too risky. It’s so much easier to just make him come to me.”

“He won’t,” Alex objects. He has to believe Michael will keep himself safe, that he’ll stay away and let Alex handle this.

“He did before,” Flint taunts him. The taser in his hand is replaced with a long knife. Flint holds it up to the light and runs his finger along the blade. “And when he does, I’m going to flay him open and make you watch. Then you’ll see what he really is beneath the facade of humanity.”

“No,” Alex screams. He throws himself from side to side, straining against his restraints, trying desperately to escape.

Flint just smiles, taser back in his hand, and advances.

“Your brother’s wrong, you know. But he almost always is.”

The last person Alex expects to see when he forces his eyes open is his father. He stares, waiting for his vision to focus. Everything hurts, and he doesn’t think it’s just from the taser. He wonders how long Jesse has been here, wonders exactly what he has done to him.

“He won’t come for you, but I don’t need him to. You’re going to tell me exactly where he is.”

“You’re dead,” is the only response he can muster.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? You think it’s so easy to erase me, just change your name and pretend I don’t exist,” Jesse sneers at him.

Alex notices the weight of his wedding ring is back on his finger. But if he’s married, Jesse should be here. He doesn’t understand. Alex shakes his head, trying to clear it, but that only makes the pain worse.

“You’re a Manes, Alex,” Jesse continues. “No matter how much you fight it, you will always be a Manes. And you will do your duty in the end.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“That’s where you are wrong.” Jesse leans down and grips the arms of the chair Alex is bound to, his face so close to Alex’s he doesn’t have to raise his voice to make his threats clear. “You destroyed our families legacy - years of work and research gone, test subjects lost. All because you are too weak to face the truth.”

Jesse straightens up and begins walking back and forth in front of Alex, too slow to be pacing. Alex struggles to follow him with his eyes, to keep his focus.

“But it’s time to start again. Not with the meager remains of their species left on this planet, though I will enjoy caging them first. This time, thanks to you, I will have access to their planet where I can wipe their scourge from the universe.”

“You’re insane,” Alex spits at him. “I’ll never help you. I’ll die first.”

“You will die, Alex, but not before I get what I want. We both know you aren’t strong enough to stop me. How many times have you failed to keep him safe? What makes you think this will be any different?”

There is a hammer in Jesse’s hand, and Alex can’t breathe. He watches as Jesse taps it against the palm of his other hand, transfixed by the motion. He wants to run, to break free, but he can’t look away.

“You will tell me where to find him, and you will give me access to the portal. And in return, before I kill you, I’ll make sure you know exactly what kind of monster you married.”

Alex starts to struggle, but Jesse stills him by resting the head of the hammer on Alex’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, the only sound the ragged breaths Alex fights to take.

Jesse smiles, satisfied that Alex is no longer struggling. “If I had known what he was the first time I caught you together, I wouldn’t have stopped with his hand.”

Before Alex can respond, Alex hears someone call his name. He and Jesse both freeze, and then they hear it again.

“Alex!”

It’s Michael, it’s Michael’s voice, and he can’t be here. “Run,” Alex tries to yell, but it comes out as a whisper.

Jesse turns, hammer swinging in his hand, “Looks like this just got a lot easier.”

“Run,” Alex tries again, his voice gaining volume until he is finally shouting, “Run!”

When Alex opens his eyes, he’s on the floor of his office, Michael hovering close to him but not touching. His head swings around wildly, trying to take in every detail of his surroundings. It looks right, it looks real, and Alex desperately wants to believe he’s back where he belongs, but part of him is afraid it’s just another trick.

“Alex, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare. I’ve got you,” Michael keeps his voice steady, holds Alex’s eyes but doesn’t move closer.

Michael says those words to Alex every time he wakes up from a nightmare, and Alex latches on to the familiarity of hearing them. He nods to let Michael know he is listening - waiting for him to continue, to say the words Alex needs to hear the most.

“I’m here, Alex. I’m safe. We’re okay.”

Alex closes his eyes, listens as Michael repeats the words. He sounds a little more desperate than usual, but Alex can’t blame him. Usually they are at home in their bed, not in the corner of his office when Michael helps bring Alex back to reality. It’s harder here where Alex isn't surrounded by their things, where there’s no dog to lick his hand, where he can’t see their life all around him, but he focuses on Michael’s words and tries to let them ground him.

Michael smiles when Alex opens his eyes. “I’m here, Alex,” he repeats one last time.

Alex looks at him and his mind latches onto the one thing he couldn’t have predicted, the one detail that tells him this is real and not a nightmare because while he’s heard the story, he’s never actually seen the shirt Michael is wearing. The one that reads “EDUARDO VALENTI I COME IN PEACE.”

“You have security clearance,” Alex tells him.

Michael laughs, and Alex can see the relief in his eyes. “Well, I was feeling nostalgic for the last time my husband overworked himself into a nightmare I needed to rescue him from.”

“I’m sorry.” And Alex is sorry, he knows better, but he still pushed past his limits. This time he doesn’t even have the excuse of faulty alien machinery. He just took the reports of alien witch hunts and let his mind run with it.

Michael reaches for his hand, the first time he’s tried to touch Alex, and Alex grasps it tightly. “It’s okay,” Michael sighs. “You want to talk about it.”

Alex shakes his head. The dream is already slipping through his fingers, the details fading, although the fear, the terror he felt for Michael still lingers. His eyes slide to his desk and the files spread out there. Again he feels the need to hide them, to bury them where they can’t hurt Michael.

Michael follows his eyes, but he doesn’t linger on the desk, just turns his attention back to Alex. He sits down on the floor and Alex rests against his side.

“Alex,” Michael begins gently. “Whatever is in those files is history. You can’t change it or make it better.”

When Alex starts to protest, Michael shushes him with a kiss. “I’m not saying not to study it, not to learn from it. But you can’t get lost in it. Because you, Alex, you are my present and my future and that is where I need you to be.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says again. He rests his head on Michael’s shoulder.

“Don’t be,” Michael reassures him, his hand a comforting weight on the back of Alex's neck. “You're off for the rest of the week. Dogs are waiting in the care, and I backed a bag. Thought we could spend a few days at the cabin.”

Alex fights against first instinct to protect, to tell Michael he’s fine, that he can go to work tomorrow. He can hear the worry in Michael’s voice, and he hates that he put it there. But even more than that, Alex wants to go. He wants to spend a few days alone with Michael. He wants the time to relax together, to sleep in and watch Mo and Sophie chase birds they’ll never catch and eat together by the fire. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He feels the deep breath Michael takes, feels him relax, releasing the tension Alex didn’t even realize he was holding.

Michael stands up and holds out his hand, “Ready to go?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Alex agrees. He takes Michael’s hand and lets Michael help him to his feet, knowing Michael will keep him steady.

#alexguerinmonthly #malex fic #rnm fic #my fic #Alex's nightmares #future fic #Flint and Jesse are the worst #Michael is a wonderful husband #angst #but always a happy ending

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