#He is not stupid. He is distracted impulsive anxious but he's trying his best | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

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Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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cabinofimagines · 3 years

Text

Connor’s ABCs

A/N: The boy is back -Danny

Request: In that case can I request Connor ABCs??? I didn't see your other fics of him so ill go read them now 👀 // Hey I love ur blog and I was hoping u do a stoll brothers (separate) abcs please ❤️

Words: 1,129

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

He tries to have his camp duties aligned with yours so you can spend more time together! Although it tends to be a bit distracting, and it takes you longer to finish lmao

Watching youtube videos or listening to music is also great.

Beauty - What do they admire in their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

I think he really likes the fact that you call him out on his bullshit lmao he admires your bravery, he also loves your eyes.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

His mind goes straight to the food stuff, he’s got you covered, any sweets, any junk food u want, he’s got it. There’s nothing like healing your heart with them quality snacks.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He wants to travel the world with you. So much to see and so little time to enjoy it, he’ll make sure the rest of your life is one huge adventure

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

It’s a relationship that doesn’t need a lead, you two work together in everything, there’s nothing you guys don’t talk before making an important decision.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Connor is stubborn af, he won’t give in and he won’t let you walk away from the argument, it can last for hours. He is a bit childish when he gets mad, he sulks and pouts and ignores you until he cools down, then he silently looks for you, he has a hard time being the bigger person, but he has a good heart.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Sometimes he takes things for granted when he’s too comfortable, but if you ever ask for recognition he gives the world to you, be patient. He’s a bit dumb sometimes but he really wants to give you the best of the best.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Connor shares everything unless it’s a silly practical joke he wants to pull, then you have to watch your back and start planning a way to get back at him.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

He’s definitely more mature after you two started dating, less impulsive as well. You’re starting to like practical jokes and stupid puns but that’s not necessarily a good thing you should be careful with that

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh yeah, but only bc he’s very aware of his shortcomings. He knows others could be way better matches for you, but he won’t admit it to anyone, only you. He usually tries to outdo himself so he impresses you, it usually pays off.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He was a bit clumsy at first, but he’s a fast learner.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It was the first time the campers saw him act all anxious and shy, biggest simp ever and that’s very valid.

Memory - What’s their favourite memory together?

The first time you told him ‘I love you’ because then it was your time to look anxious and shy.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Probably cheesy annoying names he knows you despise, he’s still a little shit at heart so, understandable. It’s all ironic until he’s using them without even being aware of it lmao

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It’s really transparent, but he knows how to hide it from his crush, at least up until he decided it was time to be honest. After that he’s very honest about what he feels all the time. He’s all silly smiles and ‘you’re so cute’ every five minutes.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He brags BIG TIME, everyone collectively groans and walks away when he starts.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s really good with languages and knows how to tell you how much he loves you in six different ways. He also teaches you how to do it bc that’s cool

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s really creative! Very romantic as well, would adapt his ideas to your liking.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He’s supportive, honestly your significant other should alway be supportive, if not then DUMP THEIR ASS

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He loves the thrill and adrenaline that comes with adventure, routines are a solid no for this guy.

Understanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

The empathy comes a bit short, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to make you feel better, he only needs to know your ways and your likes and dislikes and then he’s all ready to be your perfect comfort.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

The most important thing hands down. He has you right there above everything.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He likes to throw you surprise birthday parties, you have to be careful during the week prior your birthday bc you don’t know when will your friends jump on you when you enter a room.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Big fan of hugs and kisses, will spoil you with both if you let him.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Becomes very quiet and somber. You make sure to send him voice notes or iris calls so he doesn’t completely turns into a sad vegetable.

Zeal - are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Controversial but he would sacrifice the world in order to save you.

Taglist: @beneaththeiceandsnow, @bandshirts-andbooks

#Danny's writing #connor stoll xreader #connor stoll #pjo imagine #hoo imagine

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writing-gifts · 3 years

Text

here’s the 5th part of the incubus!doppio AU!

I dont really have anything to say so enjoy lol

list of the current parts

@wasabi-mommy @mistabrainr0t

----

The moment you pass the threshold of your home you immediately drop the heavy grocery bags you’re carrying with a relieved sigh. Even though you had way fewer than Doppio, the weight had your hands screaming for some time now. This was why you usually don't wait this long to get groceries. The store was out of the way and with only the bus as a source of transportation for you, you had to carry everything you bought at once. But since you’ve been busy with work recently your chores quickly ended up on the backburner.

You rub at your aching fingers and glance at your friend who seems completely unfazed by all the bags he’s currently holding. He doesn't look it, but he has quite the strength which you chalk up to him being a demon.

"There was definitely no way I’d be able to carry all of this on my own,” you say. “By the way, if you don't mind, can you take everything into the kitchen for me Doppio?"

The incubus smiles and nods before picking up the bags you dropped and leaving the living room.

You're ready to take a breather on the couch before you have to go put everything away but pause when you see Mutton stroll into the room from the hallway. You double take and raise a brow. Lately the cat has been coming around more often, but this was the first time you had seen him during the day.

"Hello Mutton! Did I forget to completely close the window again?"

You make your way towards the cat ready to snuggle and coo at him, but he immediately wriggles out of your grasp and jumps onto the couch.

The cat's avoidance has you pursing your lips. "Why don't you love me?"

Unbeknownst to you, Doppio had returned from the kitchen and was now staring, practically glaring at Mutton. He didn't like that cat hanging around for multiple reasons. The main one being he wasn't even sure what it was, but he knew it was no regular animal. Doppio didn’t exactly get along with most animals but something about this cat seemed too aware. He felt like it was always watching him, considering him and his intentions.

Mutton turns in his direction with a look of indifference before yawning

"Doppio why are you just standing there?” You turn away from Mutton to properly look at your friend. “You look annoyed by something…"

The incubus wipes the scowl from his face. "Sorry I was….just remembering something I forgot to do."

“Well I'm going to go put everything away now. Thanks for helping me!"

You try to walk into the kitchen but Doppio calls out to you.

"Do you want me to help put everything away?" he asks.

"But what about the thing you forgot?"

He shrugs, "I can take care of it later."

You hum but before you can continue your way into the kitchen, you notice a pink strand of hair sticking out of place on the top of Doppio’s head. You get closer to him so you can reach out to fix it, but it doesn’t take long for your eyes to drift away from it and to his brown eyes instead. You made eye contact with your friend all the time but when it was this close, something about it felt different.

You try to say something to break the weird tension that was forming but the flush forming on Doppio’s freckled cheeks has the words getting stuck in your throat and your stomach flipping. You feel transfixed in place and you’re nervous about what will happen next. But just when you’re about to make an impulsive choice, you notice something rubbing against your calf. You look down and see Mutton trying to stubbornly squeeze through the space between your legs.

You immediately pull your hand back and make space between you and Doppio. And of course Mutton takes this as the perfect opportunity to lay on your feet. The cat looks up at you expectantly.

"Didn't you want to be left alone a second ago?" you ask the cat.

You say this but bend down to pet Mutton anyways since you were in need of a distraction. You weren't sure what's been happening to you lately, but sometimes when you were around Doppio you felt...off. Sometimes giddy, sometimes anxious; even nauseous at times. But for some reason you didn't hate it. In fact, it made you want to spend even more time with him.

Doppio tilts his head when you sigh.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"...Just tired I guess."

He grins, it seems a bit forced though. "That's even more of a reason for me to help you put everything away. In the kitchen."

You shake your head at how he's so insistent about something so trivial. But you stand back up and move your feet from underneath Mutton, who immediately looks displeased from the movement.

"Okay, okay let’s go."

-----

Doppio was this close to fighting the cat.

The damn feline was everywhere and always getting between you and him. It was driving him up the wall!

For example, the two of you were watching a movie last night. The incubus's heart thrilled when you had leaned against him, too sleepy to completely support yourself anymore. But then the stupid cat jumped onto the sofa rubbing its giant, furry body all over you in an attempt to get you to pet him. It was enough to completely rouse you and you straightened yourself before giving the attention that Doppio desperately wanted to the cat.

This was just one of the many offensives of the feline this week, and even Diavolo seemed to be getting irritated which fueled Doppio’s irritation even more. If he could just get rid of the damn thing like his boss suggested, this issue could be solved but then there would be the new problem of you being upset.

Doppio groans on your couch trying to calm down before he does anything dangerous. Fortunately, you weren't at home at the moment and didn’t have to see him like this.

Instead of continuing to dwell on the cat, the incubus thinks about how you had given him a key to your house this week. Even though he could get in either way the thought was nice. He feels himself relaxing and just as he thought he managed to cool off, the front door creaks open. He sits up expecting it to be you but sees the reason for his anger instead.

Mutton walks in paying him no mind. He then kicks the door close with his hindleg before sitting next to it.

Doppio glares. "What the--What are you doing here? How'd you even open the door?"

It's quiet for a moment until a deep voice breaks the silence.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Doppio flinches, not expecting the damn thing to actually talk, but it takes less than a second for him to go back to glaring.

"I'm actually allowed in here! ____ gave me a key!" He reaches into his back pocket to show it off.

Mutton squints at the small golden key before sighing. He looks away, a scowl on his feline features. "...Dammit. Who invites a demon willingly into their home?"

Doppio smirks at the words. "Why does it matter to you? They can do what they want."

"They don't know what they're getting themselves into with your kind."

The smugness is quickly wiped from Doppio's face and he furrows his brow wanting to ask for an elaboration. However, the cat walks off intent on not answering to him anymore.

"You know I'm telling ____ about this right!?" The incubus yells down the hallway but the cat seems to not give a miniscule shit.

Grumbling, Doppio flops back on the couch. The cat’s reaction has him doubting himself. He wanted to tell you, but would you even believe him about "Mutton”?

He felt like you trusted him for the most part but he still couldn't say for sure. Worst case scenario would be that you would want nothing else to do with supernatural beings including himself. The incubus frowns and closes his eyes hoping to shut out any more thoughts like this.

You definitely trusted him...but maybe it would be best if he held onto this information for now.

#incubus!doppio #doppio x reader #vinegar doppio x reader #reader insert #jjba x reader #im hoping to get another part out quickly before going back to my other stuff but now im not so sure #my schedule isnt as open anymore and i wanna wrap up datura #so we will see #still getting used to this update tagging so i might forget sometimes

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wittyrosebush · 3 years

Note

Congratulations !!!

30 with Steve Rodgers please? ♥️♥️♥️

La Revolucion

Pairing: Pre-Infinity War!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mild violence, brief swearing

Summary: After the Avengers split up, Steve thinks back to the first time he met the love of his life.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Date Posted: 2/7/2021

A/N: Thank you, Anon!!! This one is based off of Americano by Lady Gaga. The song is about immigration law and LGBT+ marriage in America. It took me a while to figure out how to go about writing this (apparently its best done at 1am), so I hope you enjoy! I'm lowkey proud of this one ngl.

Once again, let me know what you think about this one! More are coming out soon.

Steve walked Bucky off the jet into Wakanda with a stern look on his face. Something seemed off about his friend, so the brunette stopped walking. "What's wrong, Buck?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, I'm just worried about you," Bucky said. He was being escorted to the place where he was to be put into a coma like state for who knows how long.

Steve furrowed his brows in confusion, "Why are you worried about me?"

"I don't want you to be alone, you need someone to keep your impulse control in check."

The blonde humorlessly chuckled, "I won't be alone."

"Oh really?"

The pair made it to the entrance of Shuri's lab and there was a tense silence. Neither men could face the other before Steve broke the silence, "I met a girl in East LA."

Bucky nudged his shoulder and smirked, "Finally! Is she pretty?"

"She's the most beautiful person I've ever seen," he smiled with a slight blush coming onto his face.

Bucky turned towards his best friend. "Thank you for assuring me that you won't be stupid alone."

"You're taking all the stupid for yourself." Steve said as he pulled him into a hug.

After saying their goodbyes, Steve walked back to the quinjet, reminiscing about meeting her.

~~~

Steve sat at a bar alone, watching the latest drug cartel leader. After the end of his team, he wanted to continue to do good.

The blonde brought his drink to his lips as the announcer stepped on the small, wooden stage. "Thank y'all for coming out tonight! Next up we have my favorite little lady. In floral shorts as sweet as May, she sang in eights and two barrio chords, I present to you... Y/n!"

Steve barely looked away from his target to look at her, but the second he realized what he saw he looked again. He honestly thought his heart stopped. His breath hitched in his throat and his palms became damp.

After a moment, he snapped out of his trance. I'm on a mission, he thought, there is no time for distractions. Steve had locked onto the sight of the cartel leader again when she started singing and he knew he was a goner.

"Mis canciones son de la revolución," she was a siren and he was the pour soul that was about to drown.

Well, he actually was choked by one of the target's bodyguards. The singing stopped as people gasped and started running to the exit. Steve was able to push the goon off of him onto the floor just as he heard the click of a revolver. "Game's up, Captain. This en-"

The sound of his attacker screaming made him turn around to see Y/n pepper spraying the group of men. She held a cloth to her mouth and tossed one to Steve, "Follow me!"

Without hesitation, she ran behind the counter with the super soldier right behind her. She pulled the latch to what appeared to be a trap door and jumped down into the darkness. Steve froze for a moment. Was this a trap?

"I suggest you come down here, sir. Unless you fancy being mauled by those angry old guys," Y/n smirked and moved aside from the opening so he could jump down. Steve hopped down and was also consumed in the darkness.

Before he had a chance to speak to the mysterious singer, his hand was being dragged away from the entrance. The next few minutes were silent besides the sound of two pairs of shoes hitting the pavement.

Finally, Y/n stopped. Steve was about to speak before he heard something unlock and his vision was flooded with light. His eyes adjusted after a moment and he looked around to see a small town. He took a deep breath and turned to Y/n, who was now leaning against a rock trying to catch her breath, "Why are you helping me? I'm sorry but this doesn't make sense, ma'am."

The woman chuckled, "Not many things do, Captain Rogers. Yet here we are." He frowned and was about to walk away before she spoke again. "I have cried for, I will die for how I care."

Steve paused and stood in front of her, intrigued. "These people have been tormented by that pig and I'm sick of it. I'd do anything to protect my home," she all but whispered.

The blonde only nodded. He had researched the town before coming here.; it was a town filled with criminals and the people they had control over, whether it was individuals or entire families.

Steve hummed, "They have you're family?"

She smiled, looking down at the ground. "No, I got them out 2 years ago. And I don't plan on stopping until they're all away from the west coast."

Y/n looked up after a minute to see the space in front of her empty. Captain America was no where to be seen.

~~~

A few days later there was a knock against Y/n's dressing room door. She set down her mascara and held her pepper spray in a steel grip, "Who is it?"

When no one answered, she let out a shaky sigh. Quiet footsteps could be heard outside the door and a deep voice saying, "I'll take care of her, get the rest." She froze and looked at the door in pure fear.

"This is it," she murmured as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Just as the lock turned she fumbled for one of her shoes and threw it as hard as she could at the blonde man in a dark blue super suit.

Luckily, Steve had his shield in front of him. Y/n gasped and put her hands over her mouth. The poor man peeking his eyes out from behind his shield with a worried gaze. The female ran an anxious hand through her hair and tried not to meet his scared gaze. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Steve! I didn't know it was you and I got scared and-"

Steve gestured for her to be quiet and she abruptly stopped. After a moment of just staring at each other, him thanking god you didn't pepper spray him and her praying that he didn't think she was a lunatic, he offered his hand.

Before Y/n could take hold of his hand, yelling could be heard upstairs. The super soldier swiftly scooped her into his arms and bolted out of the room.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as they ran through the building. Once the exit was in sight it seemed like everything was going to be okay. That was until two goons ripped the door from its hinged and rushed towards Y/n and Steve.

Steve huffed and quickly turned a corner, causing the female to yelp and hold him tighter. Suddenly, the short pants stopped from the blonde, "Hold on tight, ma'am."

Before she could say a word Steve jumped out the window. Y/n was now curled in a ball and screaming at the top of her lungs as Steve flipped them onto his back.

The air from the two pairs of lungs were knocked out when they hit the ground. While Y/n clenched her eyes shut, Steve saw the goons chasing them being kicked out of the window by his favorite red-headed assassin.

"You and your girl ok, Rogers?" Natasha said as she coyly waved at the two of them. Steve could only chuckle and look up at the stars.

After a moment of adrenaline filled tranquility, Y/n spoke up. "I guess we're even now, Captain Rogers."

Steve raised an eyebrow and looked down at the woman in his arms. She smiled at him and rested her chin on his chest, "I saved you, you saved me."

"Technically we aren't even," he said and sat up as he helped her do the same, "my team got everyone out of the town, you were the last to pick up."

Y/n was silent for a moment, her mouth hanging open in shock. Steve gave her a moment to control her thoughts and stared deep into her eyes when she spoke again, "Why would you help us? You barely know these people, let alone me."

Steve looked away, happy that it was dark so she couldn't see his face turning a light shad of pink, "You're a good person, and these people didn't deserve what they were given."

This time Y/n stared into his alluring eyes, sensing he had more to say. "Plus I wanted to see if you would go dancing with me one night."

Steve wanted to burry his face in his hands but they were still glued to her waist. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek, making Steve a flustered mess. "Well it wasn't just that-I mean you also seem to have a set of skills that could be useful on the team-"

Y/n chuckled and stood up, "Who would have thought that a kiss on the face would fluster the greatest Avenger." Steve huffed and stood up. The female still had a smile plastered on her face, "So, are you asking me on a date or asking me to join your team?"

"Both," he said, "there's a lot of bad in this world and with the right training you could help minimize it." Steve offered his hand to her and she glanced at it, returning to his intense gaze. "What do you say, Y/n?"

She smirked and grabbed his hand, "Let's start a revolution."

#captain america #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #captain america x reader #i should probably go to bed #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x female reader #captain america x female reader

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deceitfullyanxioussss · 4 years

Text

Must Have Been the Wind

Hey guys! I kinda already posted this on my ao3 a few months ago and just realized I forgot to post it here as well so like, here you go I guess lmao

Summary: Remus goes back to his apartment and wants a nap after a bad day at work. Instead, he finds he is kept up by some very troubling sounds coming from the room above his.Remus decides he wants to help this stranger.

Song fic! Must Have Been the Wind - Alec Benjamin

CW: Cursing, and uh, Remus being Remus ig? Oh, and minor homophobic character (Lemme know if I need to add more)

Proof-read by @queroze, thank you again, even though this was a while ago lol

Remus let out a huff of breath, feeling his tense muscles relax as he practically melded into the couch. The plan was for him to catch a nice nap after his exhausting day at work.

He was a barista at a coffee shop, which usually wasn’t too bad. He liked his job. Often, he even found it relaxing.

However, there can be days that are just the exact opposite of relaxing.

It seemed as though every customer he came across that day woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Oh, and don’t even get him started on the Karens. The Karens were nearly impossible to deal with.

A frown slipped on his face, recounting the worst part of his day. There was a very verbal homophobe who came in today.

Remus was very openly gay and always wore a pride pin on his apron next to his name. He had the unfortunate luck of having to take, and make his order. He probably had to stand there for a full 5 minutes, just listening to his lecture about how wrong gay sex is. Remus was able to shut him up by reminding him of the line behind him.

It didn’t end there though.

A lesbian couple walked in not long later, hand in hand. It didn’t take long for it to catch the attention of this man, who immediately jumped at the chance to pull another 500 slide PowerPoint out of his ass.

The rest of his co-workers decided that he had to be ushered out of the shop. Nothing about getting him to leave was easy though, not in the slightest. He went out yelling and cursing the whole way.

The two girls were very lovely though, they had a nice conversation about the upcoming pride event, and he was more than happy to give them both free refills on him.

So he guessed the day wasn’t all bad, but it still seemed to drag him out as if he was dough under a roller, crunching off of his bones into powder and flattening all his veins against his skin.

Yes, a nap seems like a good idea.

Remus’s eyes fluttered closed, fatigue quickly overtaking his body.

Just then, a sharp, yet muffled noise cut through the serenity of silence.

Some barely-conscious part of his mind gained interest in this sound.

What was that? It kind of sounded like glass. It had murmured through its TV static atmosphere.

The rest of his mind, nearly completely asleep, wordlessly communicated that it was probably nothing, and he should just focus on sleeping.

That seemed to calm his brain enough to settle down.

There was a little sliver of his mind that wasn’t quite ready to let go of the sound yet, though. It kept listening, even if undetected by the rest of the brain. It seemed right to do so, as muffled sounds of yelling and sobbing registered through its cloudy state.

It was then Remus blearily pried his eyelids open and sat up.

The fuck? Remus groaned internally, forcing his body into an acceptable sitting position. Confusion stuck onto his brain like wrinkled cling wrap as he tried to make any sense of the hazy world around him.

A loud thud was heard from the floor above, followed by an emotionally drained cry.

Remus grunted and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion.

For maybe just a split second, his heart felt sympathy for the person, but he was just so tired. It’s not like it was his problem, right? He could just ignore it and go back to sleep.

He flipped over on his side so his head faced the back of his sickly green couch and closed his eyes, trying his best to draw his attention away from the sounds upstairs.

He must have laid there for a good while, trying and failing to push the sounds to the back of his head, his anxiety amping up little by little the longer the crying persisted.

Eventually, Remus let out a loud, guttural sigh and stood up swiftly. He couldn’t just ignore them, he had to help.

Making the decision, he walked towards his coat-rack and hastily tossed his jacket over his shoulders, bee-lining to the elevator.

He silently curses the elevator for being so slow as he restlessly waited for the doors to push open, and when they do he wasted no time getting in and selecting floor 2.

Remus usually enjoyed the tacky elevator music, but he found it only served to tick him off this time around. The music seemed to drag time out even slower and he was already so, so restless.

Ding.

With that, he stepped out and eagerly trodded down the hallways, stopping in front of the desired location. He raised a hand and knocked on the door with little hesitation, the anxious tapping of his foot echoed within the empty halls.

Remus listened with rapt attention through the door, hearing as the person inside scrambled to make themself look even the slightest bit presentable.

He waited impatiently, his gaze anxiously wandering around for some sort of distraction or stimulation. They landed on the grossly patterned navy blue carpet, look completed by the numerous stains that have accumulated over the years. Finding little interest there, he moved onto the walls. The dim, sparse lighting made the colour look like a shit brown. Impulsively, he reached to run his fingers along the many indents that found a home among the distasteful brown. The tactile stimulation instantly captured his focus, and he let the rough surface soothe him.

Remus, too caught up in the stimulation, had forgotten his original purpose of being there. He startled back to reality upon hearing the soft click from the door. He immediately snapped his head back up, being met with a pair of mismatched eyes and a scarred face. This person was looking up at him with what he thought was supposed to be a confident expression. The effect was dampened by his pink-ish eyes, mussed hair, and the pastel yellow sweater he had hooked all the way up to his chin.

Remus gave the other a small wave, just then realizing he had no game plan. Did he just… ask? Did he make small talk first? Should he invite him to his coffee shop for a drink and talk there?

The other reciprocated the wave, smirking. “How may I help you, sir?” He asked politely

Remus cleared his throat, deciding he should just be direct with this conversation. He was never really good at softening his approach anyway.

“Hey, so, basically I heard something shatter and a lot of crying and yelling and I was kinda concerned about it, so I came to ask if you were ok.”

The two men stared at each other for a few seconds before Remus spoke up again. “So, are you ok?”

He heard the other snicker quietly, a gloved hand waving as if to dismiss the question. “Oh, my. That’s ridiculous. Your ears must be playing tricks on you, my dear.”

Remus took notice of how he subtly buried his face deeper into the sweater.

His attention was brought back up as the scarred man spoke again.

“Thank you for caring, sir, it’s very kind of you, but I have some urgent work to get back to. I wish I could tell you about the noise, but I'm afraid I didn’t hear a thing.” He shook his head. “Perhaps it was merely a harsh gust of wind.” He suggested.

Remus let out a quiet sigh, but nodded and accepted the answer.

The two waved each other farewell as Remus trudged back to the elevator.

Remus had been laying down, back pressed hard against the cold concrete of the floor. The chill from beneath seeped in through his spine and into his chest, weighing him down heavily. He just couldn’t stop thinking about his upstairs neighbor.

It had been hours since his last visit already, and the man upstairs was still pacing across his apartment, occasionally he would stop and silence would follow. The pacing always started back up though.

Absent-mindedly, his hands fiddled with the necklace around his neck, running his fingers across the cool, smooth metal.

He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and he wanted to help.

Remus knew that he didn’t have all the facts, and he didn’t really want to intrude on the man’s life. There was a possibility that nothing was wrong, and he was just imagining things. He didn’t want to pester his neighbor with his stupid, false worries.

But what if something is wrong? You saw his puffy eyes. You know you heard those sounds. His mind kept telling him. You can’t just leave him alone, can you?

Remus nodded to himself and for the second time that day, stood and made his way back to the other’s door. More hesitantly this time, he knocked. His raps were slow and unsure as he swayed nervously from side-to-side.

He heard the pacing stop, and he waited, his focus on nothing but his shoes this time around. Then he heard footsteps approach the door and he looked up just as the door swung open.

He was met with the same mismatched eyes, messy hair, and sweater. He didn't forget to take note of the new eye bags and odor he’s sporting with him though.

“Oh, it’s you again.” the nervousness of his neighbor's voice managed to carry through despite the fabric covering his mouth.

Remus ran a hand through his hair and looked to the side. “Yeah.” he chuckled unsurely.

“I just- I’m still worried,” he said, smile falling. “I know you said you were fine, but… I just felt the need to check again. It’s- those sounds- they’re not leaving me alone.” he tentatively looked up into the other’s eyes. “Are- Are you sure you’re ok?”

Remus is pretty sure he saw the scarred side of his face twitch, probably in annoyance he’s sure. He knew it was a bad idea to come back up. He was always such a bother, even to his own family. What made him think a stranger would appreciate seeing his face twice in one day?

“Yes.” the answer cut through Remus’s thoughts and redirected his attention. “I am absolutely positive that everything’s fine.” There was a hint of irritation that Remus desperately wished he didn’t hear.

“Once again, thank you for caring, it’s very kind. Truly. But I really do have some urgent work to get back to. I wish I could help you with the noise, but I didn’t hear a thing. In fact, I’m almost certain it was just the wind. You need to stop worrying so much over such a trivial thing.”

Remus’s body became hot with shame as he shrunk in on himself. He nodded at the man before he sluggishly made his way back.

The following morning, he didn’t even bother with breakfast. Immediately going over to slouch on his couch, he stared back up at the ceiling. It seemed to be a new favourite hobby of his apparently.

He had a lot of time to think about the previous night, about his last interaction with the man upstairs.

There was no way those sounds were from his imagination. He was in a groggy state when he heard the yelling, sure, but surely the pacing wasn't something his ears made up. Surely, the messy hair and puffy eyes weren't something his eyes made up.

His mind carefully brought up the idea of confronting him again, but he quickly winced and scrapped the idea. The irritated voice of the other causing his gut to lurch in a nauseating way.

He was most certainly not going to be looking him in the eyes for a good while now.

He was starting to break through the surface though, right? Maybe he should just call it quits and admit that he can't help.

He couldn't just go back up again, he didn't think he could take the ice-cold, biting irritation again.

Remus sat, rolling the interactions over in his head. Whoever said anything about a letter? A lightbulb sparked, setting an explosion through his body that jolted him up from his seat with a gasp.

"A letter! That's so simple! I don't have to face him again, and he doesn't have to feel as much pressure! I'm a fucking genius!" He yelled, pumping his fists into the air with triumphant gusto.

He rushed over to his desk, brimming with excitement as he began to write.

In Remus's very distinct, messily scrawled printing, he began:

Sup Mr Scarface! (I haven't even thought to ask your name yet lmao)

Listen up nerd! I promise I'm not playing tricks on you when I say this

You’re always welcome to come in

You could stay here for an hour or two if you ever need a friend. We can talk about the noise when you’re ready

But… til then I’ll say it must have been the wind.

Yours sincerely, annoying dude from yesterday ;)

Remus let out a long, pleased sigh as he gave it a quick once-over. He saw many mistakes, but he gave them not even a second glance before he was already out of the door.

He was going to deliver this letter and it was going to be wonderful!

Remus shucked his jacket off and onto his coat-rack upon returning from work the following day. It had been a pretty good day today. No awful homophobes, that's for sure.

Turning his T.V. on for background noise, he moved over to his miniature kitchen. Distantly aware of a news reporter talking about some murder, he got started on his rice and gravy.

Perhaps 10 minutes passed by when he heard a gentle rapping on the front door.

Remus curiously strode over and opened his door, surprised to see the man from upstairs in front of him.

"Oh, wow. Hey there, dude! Didn't expect to actually see ya this soon!" Remus exclaims.

"I, uh, yeah…" the scarred man shifted in place for a few moments, burying his face into his sweater. "If the, uh, offer is still open, I’d love to have someone to talk to,” he mumbled through the thick fabric.

Remus stood and processed the words for a few seconds before grinning widely.

"Of course! Of course! Come on in, my man! Lunch will be done in a bit if you want some!”

The other smiled and shyly slunk into his apartment

"I’d love that.” He said. “Thank you.”

"Not a problem at all! My name's Remus by the way!" He excitedly extended a hand for the other to shake.

Said man looked at his hand for a moment or two before carefully clasping his own around it.

Even more carefully, his shy voice spilled a simple name. "...Janus."

#Demus #platonic demus #romantic demus #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic janus #songfic #sanders sides

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gloves94 · 3 years

Text

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 28

Rating: M Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Drug use! SuicideMentions! SlightGore! Violence! Death! Depression!

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

MY MASTER-LIST

The dull oatmeal might as well have been sawmill dust. It was just one of those days that felt duller than the last. Lately for Nel it had kind of been like that. She shot a woeful look at the empty seats across from her where Tracey would usually be joking around and Daphne talking about her latest work of art. Letting out an exhausted sigh, she turned her attention to The Daily Prophet which was next to her breakfast. She didn’t care much for the articles but attempted to keep her mind busy from the fact both her best friends weren’t speaking to her and the horrible holiday she would have to spend with her cruel guardian, Cloelia Lestrange, and her psychotic adoptive brother.

“This has to stop,” A voice interrupted. Nel looked up to see Theodore quickly sit in front of her. He looked over his shoulder making sure his girlfriend wasn’t around to witness him threading with the ‘enemy.’ “Nel, this is absurd, just apologize for whatever you did and make up with Daphne and Trace. I can’t be looking over my shoulder like this every time I talk to you.”

For somebody who knew a lot about everything, Theodore didn’t know much about people.

“You know Daphne is upset because of what you did and well, I think Tracey is just hurt,” He expanded.

Her dark eyes fixed on him with no expression. Theo was acting worse than the girls. He was acting like a two-faced bitch. Sneaking around when interacting with the orphan girl so he wouldn’t upset Daphne. Nel didn’t know what was worse his cowardness or his willingness to do anything for his girlfriend. She secretly prayed never to be that pathetically whipped.

It was then that the rest of the Slytherin’s arrived and Theodore scampered away to take a seat with them. To make matter’s worse Pansy’s loud laughter and cheerier attitude at the new company she kept was the cherry on top. Part of the reason she didn’t want to speak to them was – yes, because of the whole telling Dumbledore her story, but the other half of it… The Dark Lord wanted to kill her. He had placed a bounty on her head. The Lestranges knew it, so did Mr. Malfoy, she eyed her friends from a distance. This time her gaze shifting into a suspicious one. Just how much did they really know? How much had they overheard during dinners with their families? Eyes moving across the room she looked at the Headmaster who seemed distracted in a hearty conversation. Dumbledore’s façade of being a kind, sweet, twinkly eyed, old man became more corrupt as time passed by and she saw the ugliness in him. He definitely knew. There was absolutely no way he didn’t.

Looking all the way across the Great Hall she saw the Gryffindor table. The House she initially wished she had been sorted into. She could see Harry half away struggling to keep his eyes open spilling some pumpkin juice on his uniform. Hermione lecturing from a thick book and Ron trying to help Harry stay awake. They were her friends, too right? They were nice to her, so were some of the other Weasleys. But what if they didn’t really like her? What if they only talked to her because they felt sorry for her? Anxiety pricked at her and her insecurities. They hadn’t spoken in a while, maybe they hated her too. Elowen was so engrossed in her own dark cloud of anxious thought that she didn’t realize the second boy that noticed the anxious look on her face from across the room and decided to join her for breakfast this morning taking a seat across from her.

He sat down confidently with an easy smile resting his elbows on the table and greeted her. “What are you doing?” She asked wide-eyed and surprised self-consciously turning to see the dozens of prying eyes that were staring at the two. “Everyone can see us!” She asked wide-eyed.

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” Cedric let out a charming laugh. She looked greatly frustrated at his unannounced appearance. They were supposed to keep their partnership down and under the wraps, it simply made everything less complicated. “We haven’t discussed the Third Task yet. What are we going to do?” He leaned forward with interest, his elbows resting on the table.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” She admitted sincerely. “I haven’t really thought about anything lately,” She said miserably slumping her head on one of her palms. She hadn’t even been in the mood to have any sweets she might encounter. For some reason there had been a lot of pear tarts around her as of the late. However, she didn’t fancy them.

“You don’t look too excited,” He noted observing her obviously upset demeanor. She neither agreed nor disagreed with his statement. “Say, what do you want to be when you grow up?” He tried shifting the subject. “A menace to society,” Nel droned out numbly. Cedric couldn’t help but laugh, “You know, I’m going to be Ministry of Magic one day,” He boasted with pride. Being in a foul mood Nel fought the urge to roll her eyes of course the golden boy wanted to be Ministry of Magic. How could she have forgotten that?

She didn’t even hear what he said after that. Somehow the conversation quickly shifted back to the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the Third Task. “Meet me at the Room of Requirement tonight, I’ll see you there after prefect duty,” he leaned forward and whispered before leaving.

The school year was near its end. It was almost the Tri-Wizard tournament so the two really had to get cracking to find out what they were going up against and properly strategize. That meant Nel also had only a few weeks to make up with her friends. Turning her head, she hoped to meet Tracey’s brown eyes from across the dining table however, the Quidditch player seemed more focused on whatever Millicent was gossiping about.

Nel thought she hadn’t done anything wrong, she was sure, more than certain about it. She even hadn’t gone out of her way to make some elaborate plan for vengeance yet, despite this she felt the need to apologize. Even Theodore had advised her to apologize, but for what? She hadn’t done anything wrong. What would she apologize for? For not wanting to come forward to Dumbledore in fear of retaliation from the Lestrange family? For lying to the Headmaster? If anything they had done her wrong. They had gone and babbled her story. It was hard, but she had to remind herself she wasn’t the antagonist in this situation.

Once again looking forward across the room her eyes accidentally met an icy pair this time. She looked away quickly, if she had moved any faster her neck would’ve probably snapped. Suddenly, she couldn’t be in the same room as her attacker any longer. Quickly picking up her belongings she rushed to her first class of the day.

She rushed out of the Great Hall and was about to reach the stairs when a handheld her back, the grip stern, not gentle or too harsh. She already knew who it was.

“Hello Elowen,” She was pulled back and cornered trapped in between a body and the wall with a stretched arm. Keeping her eyes down her jaw clenched when she saw the bottom of a Beauxbaton eggshell blue uniform pants. Impulsively she pushed past him and tried to walk away but the long boy didn’t flinch at her violent shove.

“I want to speak to you,” He spoke in a smooth voice cornering her further into the small space he had created in between the wall. “I want to give you something.” He spoke suspiciously scratching the tip of his nose, no doubt from having been snorting dragonpuffs.

It was the type of interaction which was downright ugly. Snape had already confirmed the girl’s worst fears. Ellar was planning something vile. So was his mother. Now all she needed to do was prove it. Prove it and find a way to escape going to their home this summer. She knew the moment she crossed the door she was as good as dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. “Stay away from me!” She spat once again attempting to rush past him. “Elowen come on,” Again, he spoke in an unstrained and eerily calm voice. “I’m late for class,” She snapped ignoring him. “History of Magic can wait,” He said senselessly. Nel tried to catch the eye of anybody passing by. She hoped someone would see and help her get out of this trap. “How do you expect me to talk to you after everything you’ve done to me?”

“Everything I’ve done?” He let out a cool laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He ran a hand through his shinny dark hair. “No ide-“ She coughed incredulously eyes widening in disbelief at what she was hearing. “You forced yourself on me, pushed me into the lake and tried to drown me!” She exclaimed, voice breaking at the admission. “You’re imagining things,” He didn’t bat an eyelash. “I didn’t do that,” He lied with terrifying ease.

“Yes, you did!” She spat back in a firm voice.

“You must be confused,” His eyes narrowed, and he looked at her as if she was the one acting insane. “We went down there just to talk, we started dancing-“ “Against my will,” She interrupted. He didn’t stop his manipulative narrative. “You fell in and I tried to get you out. In a moment of rush, I can understand how that can get confusing,” He smiled at her and even had the audacity to flick her nose in a playful manner. “Here, I got you something,” He said pulling up a small brown pastry box with a pear tart inside. She smacked his hand and the stupid tart away making it fall to the floor and looked at him furiously. “You could’ve killed me!” “Elowen,” He shook his head, ignoring the pastry she had rejected or her livid expression. She hated the way he said her name stretching it out like a long drawl he was too lazy to properly pronounce. “Stop twisting things,” He clicked his tongue remaining composed. “Do you hear yourself talk? I didn’t do that. You need help,” He let out a chilling laugh as he gaslight the hell out of the Fourth-Year girl.

She knew he was lying, but why did he sound so certain? There was no way somebody had used a Polyjuice potion to imitate him. There was no absolute way he had someone posing as him at Hogwarts. No way he was telling the truth. So, if she knew he was lying why did she find herself doubting her own memory? “And even then, it’s your fault for going down to the docks and falling in the water.”

“I didn’t fall-“ She stammered, deciding to stick to the facts she knew. “You pushed me.”

He flashed her an irritated look as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. Elowen was beginning to question herself. Was she actually imagining things?

The hallway was now empty and Nel was officially late for class. “Don’t be unhappy,” He lifted her chin up with a finger and she jerked her head away not wanting to meet his eyes. “Watch the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament with me.” This time she looked at him in the eye. “No. This is the last time I ask you. Leave me alone,” she warned him before giving him a hearty shove that made him stagger back on his feet. Ellar stood back racking his brain for any idea to once again seize an emotional grip of control over the girl. He had really messed up at the Yule Ball. He should’ve sucked it up and strung her along for the rest of the year. How could he get her to stop walking away from him? To once again succumb to his will and squeeze her under his thumb. He needed her to attend the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament with him. After all, it was all part of the plan. “I just asked you to go steady and you walk away from me?” He followed. To be clear he didn’t ask, it was just another of his demands. “Nobody’s going to want to go with you just like nobody wanted to go with you to the Yule Ball,” He didn’t stop there when she realized the brunette continued to ignore his calls. “And Malfoy?” He let a rueful laugh aiming for where he knew it would hurt. The mentioning of her friend’s name brought her to a sudden halt. Ears automatically perking at the mention of his surname. “You think he’d ever be interested in a nobody like you? An orphan girl with no past, present or future?” He laughed, this time cruelly. “Please, Elowen, he’s only toying with you,” He said rounding around her his hand touching her back and caressing around her arm and shoulder. “But you already knew that didn’t you?”

She didn’t want to think about that… “Then again, he did strike me like a muggle. That brute. Perhaps, vulgar really is his style,” he chuckled. She smacked his arm away from her body and held her books closer to her body as she shrunk her shoulders forward. He side stepped around her this time and stood in front of her blocking her way. She continued to shrink under his intense gaze.

“You’re not pretty, you’re not smart, not even darling or graceful in any way shape or form without an ounce of elegance-“ “I already told you to stay away from me,” Her jaw was beginning to hurt from clenching it so tightly. Eyes beginning to sting. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? Why did he have to be so cruel? Why couldn’t she see past the fear and find the strength to attack him with all of her bloody rage? “Who told you to say that?” He spoke in a low voice. “Your friends? The ones who don’t even like you?”

She was at a loss of words.

“They don’t know what’ good for you,” He paused. “But I do,” he insisted. His voice dripping like a bittersweet honey, the type that lingers in flytraps ready to capture an innocent passing by fly. How can someone be so damn fucking twisted? Who did this guy think he was?

“God, Ellar, you’re such a-“ She couldn’t even manage to get the word out. “You’re such a-“ As much as she pondered on picking the perfect word only one word came to mind. Ellar didn’t have a moment to react little by little a headache he had been feeling evolved into a migraine as his head began to swell and grow larger and larger until it inflated into large balloon. “You’re such a fat head!” She stomped her foot down and whipping her wand out of the inside of her sleeve zapped his back as he scurried away spitting out a trail of curses. His small body tipping from side to side as he struggled to keep his bobble head up. She would have to deal with whatever his mother would do to her over the holiday when the time came. Frustrated she wiped the one tear that had managed to escape.

“Nel?”

‘Oh Merlin, really? Now what?’ Spinning on her heel she turned to face Harry Potter with her wand still held high and up. “Are you alright?” He asked with a confused look on his face. Shouldn’t he be in History of Magic? “Oh, er- yeah,” She lied wiping at the tip of her nose and slid her pale wand up her sleeve. “Was he bugging you?” By now Harry knew that Saintday kept these types of things to herself. The abuse, the bullying- He understood why, probably better than anybody else at Hogwarts and decided not to press about it today. However, things like this he couldn’t ignore. His green eyes remained looking in the direction in which Ellar had turned and vanished into. “I took care of him already,” She muttered looking down at her cheap black shoes. Suddenly she didn’t feel like going to class anymore.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Really?” Harry pressed. Why couldn’t she confide in him? Why didn’t she really trust him? She would rather be alone that reach out to him, Fred, George or anyone really. Of course, he had noticed the girl’s aloofness as of the late and what was that whole thing in the morning? Cedric Diggory having a word with her. “I think the question is, how are you Harry? I’m sure dealing with the Tri-Wizard Tournament has been bad enough as it is. Tell me,” She crossed her arms and approached him immediately switching the topic of conversation with ease. “What are you going to do with all that fame and glory?” She arched an eyebrow somewhat still bitter that Harry was allowed to enter the tournament and she hadn’t been. Harry frowned at her comment. He couldn’t tell if she was being spiteful or not. “I don’t care for either,” The Boy Who Lived admitted humbly. Funny, considering it would be something The Girl Who Died would kill for.

“Hm,” She pondered on that thought wishing she could be Harry. She didn’t know if to take him for a fool or appreciate his humility. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She teased cracking a false smile. Harry saw right through it. “You know,” He began. “We should go to Hogsmeade someday. As friends. I know you’re banned from the Three Broomsticks, but there’s other stuff to do. We can go to Zonko’s? Or Honeyduke’s?” He offered with a casual shrug.

So, Harry actually was her friend. She felt rather foolish for forgetting but with the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry and clouds of anxious thoughts it was easy to forget. “Hogsmeade sounds nice,” She smiled at him sincerely. Harry was about to respond when someone bumped into his back shoving him forward. Irritated he turned to see Malfoy swaggering down the steps standing next to him shooting daggers at him. His eyes seemed to shout, ‘Shove it!’ Without acknowledging Potter, Draco turned to look at the girl. Harry returned the death stare.

“I’ll-uh, see you later Harry,” Nel broke the tense silence between the three bidding the Gryffindor goodbye subtly asking him for some space. “Yeah,” Harry looked between them. “Maybe at Hogsmeade,” He said purposely knowing it would irritate Malfoy to no end. He waved at her before walking away in the direction of Professor Moody’s classroom.

“Hogsmeade?” Draco exclaimed. “I heard you were with bad company, but Potter? Out of all people,” He combed his hair away from his forehead and shook his head. “And you’re going to Hogsmeade with him?”

She didn’t answer and kept her arms crossed looking at him with an irritated expression. They were just going as friends but that was none of his business.

“I’ve been with worse company,” She shot at him remembering that the time the two had attended together.

Ouch.

Despite the jab he let out a throaty chuckle. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” He asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” She shot back irritated that her hostile comment hadn’t made him upset. “Seems hardly fair you get to skip while the rest of us have to deal with Binns incessant rambling?”

Touché. “What is it to you if I’m in class or not?” She sighed pessimistically before walking away towards the Slytherin dormitory. The morning had been way too long. She didn’t want to think about anything Ellar had said to her. The thought of crawling into bed and laying in a fetal position underneath the covers passing the day by doing nothing was very tempting. “Davis and Greengrass still giving you a hard time?” He changed the topic both of his eyebrows knitting, the edges of his mouth pulling down in a frown. He sounded genuinely concerned, but then again- did he really care? She wanted to block him out of her head, but Ellar’s hurtful words sounded back like an echo: “He’s only toying with you.” She remained quiet her answer was her silence.

“I’m waiting,” the blonde said impatiently.

Exasperated she didn’t mean to explode but she did. “What’s there to say?” She paced around the corridor walking back to him. “My best friends won’t even look at me- I get harassed by Lestrange first thing in the morning and now!” She didn’t’ mean to raise her voice. “Now youwon’t let me skip the most boring class at Hogwarts!”

“It’s not even noon and I just want today to be over with! I just want to lay down and die,” She shouted frustrated.

It took her a moment to compose herself from her loud tantrum and depressive statement. “Are you done?” He cocked an eyebrow up.

She felt her blood begin to boil. Why was he invalidating her emotions like that? She was about to push him away just like she had done to Ellar, like she did to everyone when he interrupted her in a surprisingly cool tone.

“I’ll take care of it,” He said cooly trying to reassure the girl. She was more than perplexed by his statement. Taken aback she looked at him oddly. Just what did he mean by that? “Just like I took care of Lestrange.” “Huh?” Slowly she could feel her anger begin to melt away. A mischievous smile grew on his face before he began to walk away. Purposely leaving her to wonder just what he had done.

“Draco?” She asked in awe. “What did you do?”

“Wouldn’t you love to know,” he let out a low laugh and walked away leaving a very confused Slytherin girl behind.

Xxx

Nel never apologized to Tracey or to Daphne. She knew that sometimes it was best to yield and bend a knee in these types of circumstances. However, this time she would not apologize. It was her story and they had taken that away from her.

It didn’t help that since she had been seen with Ellar that day some of the Slytherin girls began to call her nasty synonyms like victim, tease, and attention-seeker, slut was also on that list.

She tried not to let it bother her. Words hurt, even if she had sworn she didn’t care what anybody else thought. Not that any of them would ever say it to her face considering how scared they all were of her.

It was nearly the end of the year. After having spent all morning long packing her belongings and getting ready to return to her guardian, something which she had been terribly dreading, Nel decided to head to the Great Hall to have a late breakfast alone before going to the greenhouse to spend the rest of the day with Nathair. It wasn’t like she had much interest in bidding goodbye to anybody else. Maybe to Professor Snape and a few others, but it wasn’t urgent. Besides, everybody and their mother would be viewing the last task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

“Saintday!” A voice interrupted her alone time and her meal. “There you are the tournament is about to begin!” It was Professor Moody. It looked like he had been running around the castle. For some reason he looked more agitated than per usual.

“So?” She shot back rudely. Not caring if her attitude caused her some lost points for Slytherin or landed her in some detention. At this point she was beyond that.

“All students must attend the tournament,” He repeated again. The edge of his mouth twitching oddly. His eye unnervingly shaking as it focused on her deep frown. “That’s not true,” She mumbled taking a mouthful of cereal. “Professor Snape said I could stay in the castle,” She lied.

Not to mention the fact she was also avoiding bidding Cedric and Harry good luck. Not because she didn’t wish it upon them, but because she really didn’t know what to say to either of them. Sometimes words were, well, hard. “No students are allowed in the castle without supervision. Tournament now,” He leaned down to try and meet her eyes, but she ignored him. Before she knew it, he had aggressively lifted her by the arm and dragged her out of the empty Great Hall. The cereal spoon she had in her mouth dropping halfway as the two made way to the arena.

“Get your hands off me,” She whipped her arm back to her person. By now she had an idea that the retired Auror had more than unconventional, perhaps even unorthodox methods of teaching, but she drew the line when it came to physical boundaries.

He led her all the way to the arena and all the way there he complained about ungrateful, slimy orphans, or something amongst those lines. Arriving to the arena she realized that it was actually the Quidditch pitch which had been modified to resemble a massive auditorium with tall stands so that everyone could see the tournament. It seemed like the Third Task had not been what her and Cedric had been imagining. It was a massive maze of hedges that were at least 20 foot high. The maze was filled with dangers and traps and in the middle from the distance one could see a bright celestial glow – the Triwizard cup. The first to reach it would be the winner of the tournament. This was it – the moment her and Cedric had been waiting for all year.

It seemed like the Third Task hadn’t started yet.

She sat far away from everyone on Ravenclaws’ side. The students didn’t seem to mind her presence. Cedric’s girlfriend Cho was in the group and the two shared a friendly wave. Distracted by this, she didn’t notice the Slytherins watching her from the distance.

She sat in the top corner towards the end where she could hopefully be invisible for the time being. Little by little she was starting to understand Professor Snape more and more. She understood his aloofness, why he dressed and acted like a wet bat, always trying to camouflage every day. She looked at him from across the pitch, he was sitting with the Headmaster and other professors in a private box. “If we were up any higher, we’d have nosebleeds,” a voice interrupted her wish of being aloneand train of thoughts. Sulking Simon, she acknowledged the ghost boy. Maybe his company was more than appropriate.

“We?” She asked. “Simon, you don’t bleed,” She let out a humorous snort. Everything was fine until the ghost began ranting, moaning and sulking about his status as a lost soul in this cruel and very dull world. “I mean, I don’t even like Quidditch that much, and I’m stuck here. It makes me want to dieall over again.” Avoiding him, really not feeling charitable enough to help a poor soul cross to the other side Nel walked down the stands and instead took a seat next to a blonde girl that had a dazed look on her face and was eyeing a bird that was flying over the arena. She didn’t pay much mind to the bird. She was just grateful this girl didn’t talk. She sat pretending not to hear Simon calling at her from the highest stands in the seating area.

“Saintday,” Malfoy who had been watching her from the distance approached her. “Malfoy,” the other greeted emotionlessly. “Why on Earth are you sitting with the Ravenclaws?” He half sneered looking at his surroundings with disdain.

Nel shrugged. She just wanted to be alone. She was mourning her last hours of freedom before she had to return to La Maison de Lestrange. She also didn’t feel like sitting together with the Slytherins. What was the point? Why would she put herself through the martyrdom of attempting to capture her friend’s attention through pleading looks of pity?

“Come on,” Draco tossed his head back cooly.

“No, I think I’m okay, I’ll just sit here and cheer,” she said in the most uncheerful tone hoping he would go away, and she could simply return to her silence.

“It’s because of them, isn’t it?” He realized looking back at her friends.

Before Elowen had a chance to answer Malfoy grumbled a mysterious “I’ll be back,” before leaving.

Once he was gone, Nel let out a heavy sigh. She wasn’t expecting him to be back any time soon. And finally, it was silent. Nobody would speak to her. All she had to do was sit tight, watch the task and hope that Cedric came in first place.

“You know, it’s bad luck to see nightjars in the daylight,” The girl sitting next to her spoke in a soft voice. Nel ignored her hoping she would stop talking or go away. She didn’t.

“They’re an omen of death.” She continued with an eerie soothing tone that contrasted her morbid statement. Looking at her closely she realized who it was.

Great – Out of all people she had to end up sitting next to Looney Lovegood. Momentarily distraught, she didn’t feel the presence creep up behind her.

“Hello, Elowen,” The silky voice made her body turn stiff. With an abrupt flinch she slapped the owner of the voice by swatting her arm over her shoulder. She didn’t stop to see his reaction simply stood up and walked away.

“I’m glad you made it,” Ellar said strained trying to keep his temper in check, rubbing his wounded nose. He snorted and sniffed right afterwards cleaning his nostrils from any leftover substance.

“Bloody fuggin hell,” She exclaimed vulgarly her temper leaping from zero to hundred. “Merlin,” She growled out pulling out at the roots of her hair in stress. “Leave me alone!”

God all she wanted to do was be alone and stay alone in the stupid castle and marinate in the misery and little time that was left of her few hours of freedom. She noticed Moody standing near the exit of the stands. He had witnessed the entire interaction and hadn’t even flinched. Why hadn’t he come and jinxed Lestrange just like he had done to Malfoy earlier in the year? Frustrated she decided to head the opposite way, descending down the stairs of the stands heading down underneath them.

Walking underneath the stands she followed the trail which led to the Champion’s Tent. However, hearing a creak she stopped and turned, but didn’t see anyone behind.

It was suspicious. “Where are you going?” Simon suddenly appeared levitating besides her. “Away,” She grumbled pessimistically. “You know the champions’ tent is on the other side, right?” There was no use in avoiding it, but maybe there was just no going around it. She’d have to face Cedric and Harry eventually. “Thanks,” She said shortly, not lengthening the conversation but not dismissing him either. She walked a long way, he hovered slightly behind. Once outside of the champions’ tent she assumed the participants were probably being interviewed by the media and preparing for the task.

She stood outside anxiously fidgeting for a moment and took a huge breath.

“You know it’s for champions only, right?” Simon said. “rules are for fools,” She scoffed self-importantly suddenly feeling some of the nervousness melt away as she pushed the tarp away and stepped in. She ignored the “Champions only!” Shout that came from a blonde journalist in the back.

All four champions turned to look at the intruder. “Nel!” Harry was the first to approach her. He was wearing a sporty long sleeve maroon shirt that was half black. “What are you doing here?” He asked surprised. “Harry,” She exhaled the breath she had been holding. Her dark eyes darted from Harry’s green to meet her friend’s across on the other side of room. “I just came to wish you good luck.” She really did. Even if her money was running on Cedric. “If you get lost, remember to keep your hand to the right, and eventually you’ll find your way out,” She advised wisely.

“Thanks, good advice,” He nodded looking exhausted. “You’ll do great, I know it,” She slapped his arm stating the end of the brief conversation. She turned to Cedric. ‘Harry already had made a name for himself, fame, fortune… Why not give somebody else a chance? It would be selfish of him not to do so’, she thought to herself with bitter resentment.

“Nel, you came,” Cedric looked pleasantly surprised as he approached the two students. Harry looked between the Hufflepuff and the Slytherin peculiarly. He had only seen the two of them interact a handful of times. However, after seeing the two in the Great Hall he decided to keep a close eye on them using the Marauder’s Map. To his surprise he found the two would sometimes vanish off the map. Not only that but they also spent a conspicuous amount of time together. Alone.

‘But wasn’t Cedric with Cho?’

Harry looked at them, it didn’t look like that type of relationship to him. However, with Saintday- it was always hard to tell these kinds of things.

The Chosen one pretended to busy himself with warming up and stepped away from the two.

“I’ll admit,” She began timidly. “I wasn’t going to come,” She admitted with discomfort, “Yet, here I am.”

A normal person would’ve perhaps taken offense to this but not Cedric. Instead, he chuckled at this. It was one of the great things about him, one of the things that made him so cool and easy going in the eyes of well, practically everyone. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to come bid your favorite person good luck,” he shook his head still wearing an askew smile that was perfect on him. This time it was her turn to laugh. “You? My favorite person?” “It’s been a pleasure Diggory, but I’m afraid this has all been business, not personal,” She joked stretching out her hand to him like partners usually did at the end of a successful business deal. Both shared a laugh. “Good luck. You’ve got it in the bag!”

Cedric smiled back and stretched out his hand to shake hers. However, instead, he pulled her into a hug. The girl wasn’t surprised by the gesture, she welcomed it and hugged her friend back. “Whatever happens Nel,” Cedric said pulling away. “If I win or lose, we’ll still be friends, right?” She wanted to joke and say that hadn’t been a plan of their business deal but chose not to. She was in a lonely moment of time, scarce in friends, and Cedric was a very good one at that. “Why wouldn’t we be?” She arched an eyebrow acting perplexed at his question.

“Good,” He nodded. “Because I’m going to need some eyes and ears in Gringotts when you get there. Specially since I’ll be working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement starting this summer,” he boasted.

His friend couldn’t help but be genuinely happy for her. He was one step closer in the long way to accomplishing his goal as the next Ministry of Magic. She congratulated him and their moment was interrupted when a loud announcement was made indicating it was time for the champions to take their positions in their designated areas of the maze.

“Good luck everyone!” She said in general to all, including Viktor and Fleur. “I’ll see you on the other side!” Cedric waved as he began to walk away. “Oh, and Nel?” He paused on his step. “Be good?” He chuckled heartily before exiting the tent the opposite way.

To the Slytherin’s surprise Harry lingered behind.

“You’ll do fine,” She gave him a half side hug. “See you on the other side,” She exited the tent.

Walking out of the tent and underneath the tall stands she looked for Simon, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she saw Professor Moody approaching the tent. The scowl on his face was deeper than usual and his walk was rushed. He did not look pleased.

“Oh, the task is about to start,” She explained. “I was just returning to-“ She ducked barely dodging a nasty hex the professor had cast in her direction. Her shocked mind barely had time to register when he again tried to hex her.

“Immobulus,” He spat. “Protego!” She blocked with swiftness.

“Professor,” She was tongue tied. There was no time to ask questions. Mad-Eye was lashing all kinds of spells in her direction. The attacks weren’t calculated yet weren’t sporadic either.

Nel took what she had said in the beginning of the year. So far, they had had a mass murderer, an idiot and a werewolf as a professor. This was a surprise – she hadn’t dealt with a psychopath before.

Taking back steps, she looked up the tall ceiling where people were sitting down witnessing the tournament. All oblivious to the hell that was being raised literally underneath their noses. “Help!” She shouted loudly hoping anybody would see her, would hear her. She shouted again until she backed up to a wooden rod that held the stadium up.

She raised her wand ready to cast any spell to the ceiling of people. Maybe then somebody would- “Incarcerous!” Like serpents, thorny ropes magically appeared and crawled over her body binding her with knots. Collapsing to the side her heart began to pound, she spat at the dirt she bit when she fell and attempted to blow a strand of hair off her face. She could see Mad-Eye’s limp legs approaching her.

“Filthy brat,” He walked over to her. Kneeling down he grabbed a fistful of hair with his good hand he turned her to the side roughly, “Scum,” he grumbled pulling on her hair making the student wince. She wanted to ask what he wanted. What his vile intentions were but suddenly couldn’t find her voice. She was looking at the man with hatred when a sudden zip knocked him back. Only then did she hear “Plumbum rectio!”

‘What was that spell?’ She could hear the footsteps crunching the ground below. Eyes peeled, shocked she looked up to see a boy holding his wand out looking down at Moody with a sneer. “Crucio!” He cursed without mercy making the older man writhe in uncontrollable pain. The ropes around her loosened and wiggling out of them she staggered to her feet she looked down at the horrifying scene. Strings of saliva, bulging veins and a twitching tongue were all in an irrepressible spasm as the man groaned and grit his teeth in terrible ache at the torment.

This had to stop. “Stop it!” She shoved the boys arm roughly.

Without removing his eyes from the professor, still wearing a sickly-sweet smile, he shot a final spell at Professor Moody making his body twitch one last time before becoming stiff.

Elowen looked at him with disbelief.

“I told you to stick by my side, didn’t I?” Ellar said gruffly closing the space between them and wrapping an arm around her side leading her away.

Panic and fear ridden she took his side without question as they walked away in rushed strides. “We have to find a professor! We Have to tell Professor Snape!” She looked over her shoulder to see that Mad-Eye was still laying limp on the dirt. “No,” He snapped harshly reaching for her hand. “It’ll only make things worse,” he said before once again leading the way. “How do you know there’s not more like him around? How do you know Snape isn’t with him? Or Dumbledore for a matter of fact.” Her mind was still processing what had happened. He was right, what if there were more people like Moody around the school grounds holding a wicked intent. “I mean- you don’t even know what that man was going to do to you. Do you ever use your head Elowen? Do you ever think?” He snapped cruelly making the girl flinch away from him, but his grip on her shoulder remained tight. “I know what to do,” he spoke without emotion.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he did have the best intentions after all. He wouldn’t have saved her and attacked Moody if he didn’t, right? But then again – he had tried to drown her earlier in the year. Snape had even admitted to her that the Lestranges had some evil plan in the works. So why trust him? Glancing over her shoulder she caught sight of the professor’s silhouette still laying down in the distance.

“Elowen, listen to me,” His tone was threatening. She started to step away from him, but he closed the space between them. “The only safe way out of here is through the maze. It’s dangerous out there,” He reasoned with a flawed logic that seemed to only make sense to him.

Going into the maze? Was he insane?

“It’s the safest place,” He insisted. “Somebody will see us there. We can hide! We don’t know who else is coming-“ He hurried towards her side, trying to take her hand in his, but she would not allow it. Her gust twisted at the thought of following him. All of her instincts should at her not to follow the boy into the maze.

“You,” a third voice made the two students turn their heads back. Before them stood Simon his translucent eyes were wide. He looked struck, almost as if he had been split by lightning. Eyes wide, thin jaw slack, the ghost remained frozen. ‘What was wrong with him?’ Nel turned to look back at Ellar who wore a contrasting nasty grin on his face. Unlike the ghost, he seemed pleased. Almost as if he was enjoying this.

“Sulking Simon. Hufflepuff died a couple of years ago. Some say it was a Quidditch accident, others say there was more to it,” She remembered Draco had said to her once. "I used to be the Slytherins Seeker and there was an accident," She remembered Ellar sharing. "They were looking for a scapegoat and well, there I was," She could still remember the way he oh-so innocently claimed to have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Oh! And the worst part is that she believed him! “I-It was you,” She looked at him horrified. “You killed him!” Slowly she began stepping away from him creating as much distance as she could between the two. She looked in between the two males. “Nothing about your death was an accident. Was it?” She asked Simon who was rendered speechless. Triggers and lost memories of the night he lost his life came flooding back to the ghoul.

“Big deal,” Lestrange broke the silence with a loud scoff. “I had to prove myself to him,” he began. “Alas, my range of devotion was limit due to my schooling so I did what I could best. I began cleansing Hogwarts of the impure. Filthy blood mixed among us not worth the teachings of Sacred Salazar!” He shouted. “You tricked me,” Fuming Simon finally snape. “You tricked me into coming to the pitch at night and then used me to play your sick little game with your friends!” He rolled up his sleeves showing his twisted limbs and fractured bones. “Eighty-six fractures in my body!” Nel winced at the horrific sight, she couldn’t even imagine what Ellar and his accomplices had put Simon through. It sounded like they got away scat free by making it seem like Simon had fallen off a broom. “And there’s nothing you or anyone can do to prove it,” He threatened with a smug smirk with his crooked wand raised.

Nel felt nauseous. How had he conned her so easily? How had he done it again and lured her to this place and almost inside of the maze? Lying was a part of Ellar’s nature, just like violence was, it was a weed that had long been ingrained into his core by the environment he was brought up in. Yet, he was beyond the point of saving. At this point, he had no remorse, no conscience. She didn’t want to stick around and find out why he wanted her to go into the maze with him. “Simon,” Nel mouthed, her movements calculated as she waited to attack or deflect. The ghost waited. “Get help.”

Simon left.

And just like that- like a coin he flipped. Wands raised at each other, Nel wasn’t fast enough to deflect the silent Imperio curse he cast upon her. Just like his mother, he didn’t need to vocalize it.

Ellar smirked, pleased when he saw Saintday’s body tremble against her will as she dragged her feet towards him slowly until she was standing before him. A cross look on her face as she appeared to be struggling to fight back the curse. It was useless.

“Y-You’re a murderer,” she spat through a stiff jaw.

More than pleased and feeling haughty he opened his palm for her to hand her wand to him. “See? That wasn’t too bad,” He smiled before brushing her lose hair over her shoulder. Being close enough she socked him square in the nose. He bent down in pain feeling the hot rush of blood coming down his nostrils. God, that felt good. “Sniff that!” She shouted.

Heaving, quickly ducking for her wand Nel ran as fast as she could hoping to reach the stairs at the end of the underneath the stands. Her pounding, mind racing, consistently looking over her shoulder on the offense. It didn’t take the Beauxbaton student to catch up. She could see flashes of red as he casted aggressive dark spells in her direction. This time she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill.

“They’re an omen of death,” She remembered Lovegood saying early. She cursed the omen, did this mean her time had come?

Again, looking over her shoulder, she was so close to reaching the stairs, so close- when she stumbled on a wooden block and collapsed face first into the ground. The friction of the rocky roughly scraping her skin.

Ellar was unstoppable. She winced turning around to feel a sharp pain shoot up her ankle. He was getting closer, so close he lunged at her and in her moment of fear casted the only spell that came to mind.

“Expecto Patronus!”

A manic grin grew on the boy’s lips. It was useless. Instead, he was not expecting the creature that came out of the wand to be dark. Dozens of night jars shaped orbs of darkness surrounded him engulfing the boy in a whirling haze of energy sucking entities which rendered him weak and made him collapse on the ground. Again, struggling to her feet, she didn’t dare stop to see if he was fine or not. Instead, she limped towards the end. The stairs were closer now. Where was help? Why wasn’t anyone coming? Where was Simon? Finally reaching the entrance of the stairs she stopped to catch her breath and attempt to fix her wounded ankle. Leaning against the frame’s entrance she was about to cast the charm when she was unable to move her hand.

Stunned, her petrified body collapsed in a full bind.

She fell to the floor stiff, helplessly trying to find her attacker and when she did, she saw Professor Moody straightening out his ragged coat licking his chapped lips.

“Now, you’re coming with me,” was all he said before everything turned black.

Xxx

Alastor Moody barged inside of the Defense Against Dark Art’s Office. He tossed the student that limped like a ragdoll on a chair in the corner of the room. Her head lolled to the side as she struggled to regain consciousness. A haze of dark blurs blinded her dazed vision.

“You got lucky, eh,” He said over his shoulder as he opened and closed several of his desk drawers shut as he scavenged for a powder. “Real, real, lucky.” Finding a small vial with white glittery powder he rushed back to the Slytherin’s side.

With a flick of his wand, a robust manilla rope magically appeared binding the girl’s arms and legs to the chair. Head still down as she struggled to remain conscious the man uncapped the small vial and waved the dust under her nostrils making the girls back straighten out like an arrow. Eyes wide, chest heaving, a full-on panic began to settle in as she racked her body from side to side in a struggle to escape the binds of the chair. From across the room, she could see her wand on Moody’s desk.

“It got late, real late,” Moody said flipping a small blade on his hand. “You’re of no use for the Dark Lord today.”

She was trembling like a leaf in the wind. Looking at him terrified. Her eyes glued to the knife the man was playing with.

“Let’s see now-“ He held on the blade tightly and leaned in close to her. His breath stunk of fluxweed, not alcohol like she had always imagined. His tongue poked out. “I want to taste your blood, your precious blood.”

The man before her suddenly began morphing. His face molded and disfigured before tightening into the one of a younger man. The all-seeing mechanical eye fell to the ground with a loud thud. A thin man with sharp face features whom Nel had never seen before towered over her. A compulsive twitch which made his tongue stick out of his mouth revealed his psychopathy and mental instability.

She could’ve wet herself with fear. She didn’t even realize the door opened and closed.

“Was the Crucio really necessary?” He turned to look at Ellar Lestrange who had shut the door behind him and locked it as he approached the two.

Of course, the two bastards were in it together. “Had to sell it,” The other shrugged an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder. Without much of a care he pulled out a small, thin vial from his pocket, popped it open and snorted a hit of whatever was inside. “Want a hit?” He asked the man, who ignored him. “So, what are we going to do?” Ellar asked. “We can’t get her in there now that the Tournament has started.” “We wouldn’t have this issue if you hadn’t been so coked up on dragonspuff done what I instructed you to do since the beginning!” The other snapped. “Didn’t you slip her the amortensia that I gave you?” “I did! But she didn’t take it!” “Then who did?”

Both exchanged a look before looking back at their hostage. It had collapsed to the floor that time he had tried to give her that pear pastry. Sitting in her seat, with adrenaline pulsing through her system she watched the two males carefully and attempted to remember and memorize every single word they said. Struggling was futile. If they wanted to kill her, they would’ve done it already. She sucked in a deep breath as if she were going to sink and held it. “What’chu starring at?” The man growled out raising his knife. “Wan’ me to poke an eye out?” He warned pressing the blade against the thin skin on the edge of her eye socket. She winced pressing her back against the top rail of the chair. “Hold her,” He ordered, and Ellar pinned down her left arm. The man she did now know was Barty Crouch Junior undid the bindings of her left arm and rolled her sleeve up over her elbow. She struggled coughing a “No,” as the breath she had been holding escaped. Screaming, trying to kick, or fend for herself she failed. The knife dug into her forearm and tore her flesh down vertically in a long line opening her skin to pouring red ribbons. She cried out in pain as the blood began to seep out. Trembling and in tears the horrified child was rendered silent.

Ellar simply watched, Crouch could’ve been muttering something to himself gibberish or Latin, it was hard to tell. Elowen thought the pain was over, but it wasn’t, she let out the loudest most horrifying scream when the man dove and with his long, filthy, and twitchy tongue licked her open wound.

A loud pop echoed the room as the light fixtures violently exploded making glass rain. The curtains caught on fire, windows cracked, and a moment latter shattered. Books began tumbling outside of their spaces in the bookshelf and the door blasted open.

The men remained undisturbed by all the chaos in the room. Instead, their eyes were pinned to the poor girl’s horrified expression. “Try whatever you want, you’re not getting out of here anytime soon,” Crouch laughed evilly licking and wiping some of the smeared blood that stained his bottom lip and chin. Undisturbed, perhaps too drugged and numb Lestrange chuckled and seemed to waltz around the room before standing before a large trunk. Crouch stuck an arm behind the chair and dragged it with her body still on it. He dumped her inside of the trunk without much care. As if she were waste. “And – into the trunk you go,” Ellar singsong as he slammed the opening locking her alone in the darkness.

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delightfulstarlightparadise · 4 years

Text

Imagine Eijirou Kirishima and reader

Part 2

Part one here:

I'd like to remind you that English is not my main language, but I am doing my best.

So, you work at Fat Gum's favorite bakery and were used to having him or Suneater buy bread at 3 o'clock until one day Fat Gum's new sidekick Red Riot starts coming instead. You always have difficult interactions that trigger your social anxiety. Until one day you are attacked by a villain and saved by him. When he walks you home, he asks for your number and you give it to him, even thought it is just for the sake of making him stop apologizing.

You are at school, sitting in the back, as always, not paying much attention. This is your senior year and you already know you don't have much room to grow with your anxiety problems, distant family and lack of self confidence. Your intention is just graduating and keeping your job at the bakery.

You can't stop thinking about the villain who held you hostage, this makes you feel your body heavy and your head dizzy. This mixes up to the memories you have of yourself caught in the middle of a terrible fight between a villain and a hero when you were a kid.

You can hear people whispering about seeing you in television the previous night. Your colleages don't talk to you much due to your social anxiety.

"Y/n was held hostage."

"Really?!"

"What weird person comes to school after going through something like that?"

"Did you see that new hero with Fat Gum? Red Riot is the name. He is so handsome!"

"He is two years younger than us!"

"Oh, come on, that is not too much. And he is a real piece, have you seen those abs??"

"Such a nice and deep voice too. He was interviewed, he got all shy, but not weird shy like that Suneater guy."

You should have skipped class, all this conversation was making you nervous.

Suddenly there is a loud message bip that echoes in the class and everyone checks their own phones. The teacher doesn't even bother lecturing them anymore.

But it is none of their phones. It is yours and it rings again, bringing all the attention in class to you.

"Ma...may I go to the restroom?" You ask, almost bursting into a panic attack.

"Yeah, yeah." You see your teacher has no more will.

You run to the restroom and hides in a cabin, unlocking your phone's screen. There are 4 messages in it.

The first one is:

Hello pretty!😚🥰😋

The second one:

Would you care for some 😈🤭🙊☻

The next is just:

💥💥💥💥

And the final one:

You're so lovely! Let's hit the dancefloor together someday?! How about that?💕

You see the simbol of someone typing and a new message arrives:

"Sorry, my stupid friends got my phone. It is Eijirou here... Red Riot."

You keep staring at your phone as the typing message shows up again.

"How are you? I am sorry for last night, it was bad of me to ask for your number that way. I don't want you to think that you need to speak to me just because I saved you."

You ponder what to answer while sitting on the toilet when another message comes.

"Sorry again about my friends. They are really dumb😅"

"It is ok." You reply.

The typing sign shows up again, but then disappears.

"I'm fine." You send. "Just a little traumatized by yesterday."

You wait a while and he texts you back.

"Who wouldn't be, right? I am glad I showed up."

You start typing but he does it too, so you wait.

"Sorry, I seem like a perk talking like this. I really mean I am glad you are ok. It must have been awful for you."

This text makes you smile thinking of his sudden worried expression when realizes he might have sounded arrogant. He always made a cute blush expression when realizing something, like he forgot the money to pay for the bread or he had said something weird.

"I can't thank you enough for saving me." you reply. "People here at my school are commenting about you?"

The answer comes quickly:

"Really?! Nice things, I hope.🦈"

You can't help but laugh. He uses a shark emoji instead of a smily one. This brings his sharp smile to your mind immediately.

"Very nice things. Mainly that you are handsome."

It takes a while before he answers.

"You think I'm handsome?"

You feel your heart coming to your mouth when reading this. It tottally came out the wrong way for you. You quickly type back:

"I have to go back to class! Talk to you later!"

You turn off your phone and spend some more time in the restroom with your red face between your hands. You didn't have to think anything, he IS handsome.

...

When you arrive your house and turn on your phone, there is a message waiting for you.

"Don't forget to pay your phone bill this month. You can do it by acessing..."

You sigh and leave it on the table, then, turn on the TV to watch anything. You don't really know what to do with this free time while the bakery is repaired.

You are in the middle of an episode of a cheesy dorama when your phone vibrates on the table.

"Hey. Are you free?" It is him.

You don't really know what to answer.

"I guess..." you reply after a long time thinking.

"I really didn't want to bother you with this,but Fat Gum asked if you could come to the bakery to tell him a little more of what happened yesterday. He thinks the guy had an accomplice."

Your hands get cold at the thought of it, your heartbeat increases and you start typing a "I can't" but a new message arrives.

"I am at your building's door. Sorry."

"What?!" You reply by impulse.

"Sorry! I must seem like a real creep to you. Fat Gum made me come here to make sure you are safe in your way to the bakery."

You freeze until a new message arrives.

"He can be very persuasive 😅. But if you say no, I understand."

Not wanting to be inpolite to him, you find yourself putting on your coat and boots and going downstairs to meet him. There he is smiling at you with embarassment and wearing those revealing clothes that you are sure are even more appealing today.

"Hey y/n! Thank you a lot for agreeing to come. Fat Gum would totally kick my ass if I showed up alone." he says.

You just nod as he stares at you looking unconfortable, wich makes you feel unconfortable.

"So... let's go?"

You nod again, even more nervous.

You start walking in silence when you see him pull off his phone. Great, you are boring him so much he needs a distraction, you think. Than you feel your phone vibrate.

"Please don't be mad at me." You see his message and look at him from the corner of your eye. He seems really worried.

"I am not mad at you. I just get really nervous around you." You type back.

"Really? Why?"

"I get anxious around people, in general..." you answer him pronto.

"Oh, I have a friend just like you." He replies. "He is a very nice guy."

You put down your phone and look at him. He is giving you the biggest and most friendly smile ever. You immediately put your head down.

"How can I help you being less unconfortable around me?" He sends you after you do it.

"I don't know. It is a thing that happens to me since I was a kid. I am just weird like that." you reply.

"I don't think you are weird." He says out loud and it makes you turn to him. "You are so nice."

You blush completely and get your phone, typing really fast.

"Don't say things like that, it makes me unconfortable." you send him.

"Sorry." He answers back. "But I really think you are a really nice perxnroal !(($$&@(!)....."

You look up and Red Riot is sunk inside of Fat Gum's back.

"Hey! Look where you are walking!" The hero says, pulling him out. Red Riot takes a huge breath and falls on his knees. Fat Gum turns to you. "Y/n!! I am glad you are here! Can you please help me? We need you to describe everything you remember about that night! Anything helps."

He guides you inside the store, where Suneater is trying to organize some merch in a shelf. When he sees you, he drops everything and puts his head down. He has the same effect in you. You REALLY don't want to interact with each other.

"So... can you help us?" Fat Gum asks.

You take a deep breath and look around. You can remember everything that happend. Exactly how it happened. Every detail and second of it. That is your quirk, remembering everything that ever happens to you and around you.

You give such and accurate description of that night that the three heroes get impressed by it.

"And... do you remember seeing anyone with the guy?" Fat Gum asks, amazed.

You pull from your memory the moment you look at the door before the villain comes in. You can see a woman wearing a similar overcoat talking to him and standing by the door, looking out for any incomer. Than you remember her fleeing right at the moment you see Kirishima arrive.

You describe her as a tall lady with black hair, say the exacr brand of her coat and even the color of her shoes. They all stare at you again, impressed.

"You should be a detective, y/n!" Fat Gum says giving you some slaps in the shoulder.

You shake your head as a firm no and he smiles at you.

"Ok, ok. You are right. There are better carrers around." he says"Red Riot! Take y/n home, safe, please."

"Yes sir!" Red Riot replies.

For your surprize, Fat Gum lifts you in the air and hands you to Red Riot as if you were a kid. He takes you in his arms so you don't drop on the floor and you see yourself being carried by that hero damsel style.

You stare at each other in shock. You in literal shock, pale. He with his cheeks blushed.

"That was mean of you." You hear Suneater say to Fat Gum.

"Let them kids be in love." Fat Gum replies. "It is healthy to have some passion by this age."

"No. Y/n is going to pass out." Suneater says.

In fact, you do. The last things you hear are Red Riot say: "How did you know?!" and Suneater reply: "Because I would."

...

When you come to your senses you are lying on your couch, the TV is on showing a documentary about sea life. For a moment you think it was all a dream. That is when you hear:

"Hey! You're awake!"

You scream caugh by surprize by Red Riot, in your Kitchen and almost scare him into dropping the bowls of lamen he had in hands. He is only wearing the pants from his costume and this makes your whole face burn in shame. You almost pass out again.

"PLEASE DON'T WALK AROUND MY HOUSE NAKED!!" you yell, throwing the blanket that was covering you at him.

"Naked?!?!"

After he puts on a shirt that is probably a school uniform,the two of you sit down to eat.

"I am so sorry for what Fat Gum did. This anxiety of yours is really serious." He says.

"It wasn't that." you reply while sucking in some noodles. "I usually get very tired after intentionally using my quirk. It can cause me to pass out like this."

"Really?! So I am sorry we made you use it!"

You shake your head and say:

"It is fine. I am just glad I could be useful for a change."

"For a change?" He repeats staring at you with a pitful face. "You are always helpful! We love your sweet bread."

"I am not the one who makes it. I just sell them to you."

"You are the most special part of it." he says, smiling at you with a soft expression.

You feel your heartbeat increase, but it is not panic attack-like. It is something different.

"Don't say this kind of stuff. You make me nervous." you say, looking at the other side. But you can't help a smile from coming to your face.

"Sorry!" He replies with a sharp teeth smirk.

After you eat, he thanks you for helping and you take him downstairs to say goodbye.

"Here, your keys. I got them from your pockets to get in." he says.

"You are the first visit I get here, besides my mom." you say, getting the key from his hand. "I shouldn't say that, it makes me sound like a weird paria."

"Makes you sound lonely." he replies.

You look at him a little offended by the honesty, but he actually looks concerned about you.

"I prefer it this way." you say, and turn around to get inside.

"Can I call you tomorrow?"

His question makes you freeze at the door.

"Why would you?" you ask without turning to him.

"I want to be your friend."

You look at him from above your shoulder.

"Sorry... I can't befriend a hero."

He looks horrified by your answer and reaches towards you, but you run inside before he can say anything else.

You feel dizzy. Your quirk is forcing itself onto you again. Everytime you remember, you literally live every aspect of the memory again. You live again the moment your father was accidentally killed by a hero.

...

You wake up as always. You eat your breakfast. You get yourself ready to go to school, a normal day this time, you hope. Maybe people won't be speaking about what happened anymore.

You check your phone and see there aren't any messages. This should make you feel relief, but it actually makes you sad.

Another day of school goes by. People are still gossiping about you. Maybe it is a good idea to spend some days away from school. You ask for a license and they give it because of what happened to you.

"What am gonna do at home with all this free time?" you mutter while walking back.

You wish you could work all day along stocking the bakery. This was your favorite part of your job. No clients to attend, no social interaction, no worries, just you and the products getting organized.

Then, you rise your head to the door of your building. You can't believe your eyes.

"What are you doing here?!" You ask by impulse and it sounds a bit aggressive.

"Sorry! Sorry! Fat Gum told me to check on you." Red Riot said moving his hands anxiously.

"Well Fat Gum should let you leave me alone!"

He sighs and shakes his head. He is wearing his school uniform and it makes him look a little less intimidating.

"I lied. I wanted to check on you. It is my fault." he says.

"What do you want from me, Red Riot?"you ask, crossing your arms and staring him with as much determination as you can. Wich is not much.

"Please, call me Eijirou or Kirishima. I... I really want to be friends with you. But... but I also don't want to look like a stalker."

"Well, you are not having much success." you reply.

"How about an Ice cream?"

You get surpsrized by the invite and can't help but noding in agreement. It is a hot day after all. After a while you are both sitting in front of the Ice cream shop having some icream cones.

"I like pistache, but I guess strawberry will always be my favorite Ice cream flavor. It reminds me of my childhood." you are listening to him blab about ice cream flavors for a while now. "I don't mind chocolate, too. It is the top choice among my friends. Except for Bakugo, that creep likes even his ice cream spicy."

You stare at him in silence while eating your vanilla ice cream. He seems unconfortable with it, so he continues to blab about his friends' favorite ice cream flavor.

"Mina likes anything that is pink like her, so she likes strawberry too. But I think it is just because of the color... I can't eat anything grape related anymore because it reminds me of Mineta."

You are actually interested in what he is saying, but you can't bring yourself to answer. Mainly because you don't have friends unlike him.

"Yao-momo is lucky. She can eat as much ice cream as she wants, it becomes energy for her quirk. I have to be careful, this body can only take so much carbs before I have to do some heavy exercising." He hits his own belly and you can hear it make a rock-like sound.

The image of his well defined abs comes back to your mind with your quirk fully activated and you turn bright red. You remember the exact moment he took you in his arms and you coul feel how jacked that guy actually was. You gag with your ice cream and Kirishima starts giving you small slaps in the back to help you.

"So... is vanilla your favorite flavor?" He asks after you stop coffing.

"It is not." you reply. "Smells and flavors bring back memories. I try to avoid things I like too much."

"What do you mean?" Kirishima asks throwing the last piece of the cone in his mouth.

You remain in silence a while but then sigh and decide there is no reason not to tell him.

"Everytime I remember something it is like living that again."

"Wow! That is an awesome quirk!! Imagine re living all of the best moments of your life as much as you want!" he smiles, all excited, as if he was picturing many nice things in his head.

You smile at the sight of him. He is such a bright boy, with a happy energy. It makes you feel good when around him. But, then, you put your head down and sigh.

"The good memories are the saddest ones." you say, and stand up, bowing to him. "Thank you for the ice cream, Kirishima. Nice work for you today."

You turn around to leave, but he holds you by the wrist.

"I will come tomorrow, too." he says, his expression is serious and firm.

You feel like telling him to leave you alone. But it is not what you actually want. You smile at him and nod. You can feel your whole body warm up when he opens the most beautiful sharp teethed smile, so satisfied.

As he lets you go and you go back to your appartment. Each step you take, you remember a bit of him telling you things about him and his friends.

You pass out on your coach as soon as you arrive. It is the first time in a long time that you have a wonderful nap.

Next part here:

#imagine kirishima #kirishima imagine #kirishima fanfic #kirishima reader #kirishima eijiro #bnha imagine #bnha fanfic #bnha imagines

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lostparker · 5 years

Text

bitter p.p - part two

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

summary: ever since peter parker arrived, it’s like you’ve been invisible - especially to your father - leaving you feeling pretty bitter. but are there other sweeter feelings that are being drowned out?

warnings: angst, mentions of battle

words: 1.8k

A/N: here’s part two! hope you enjoy. i dont know how i feel about this part so as always feedback is appreciated.

read part one : here

✨ masterlist ✨

You’d woken up feeling more refreshed than you’d felt in weeks. Not to mention the conversation with Steve had made you feel much, much better. You’d shaken off some of your bitterness towards your father and you felt ready to try and put things behind you. You’d decided that a good place to start would be for the first time in months to join the rest of the team. It was supposed to be a simple search and rescue mission and seemed like a good opportunity to re-integrate yourself. Furthermore, part of you knew that if you didn’t go Steve would ask more questions and you’d end up having another conversation about your feelings. But if you were honest getting out of the compound did end up sounding really appealing and you really did end up wanting to go.

You’d been so excited that you’d almost forgot about the minor five foot seven lycra-clad hitch in the whole plan. Peter. Tony had invited Peter. Of course, he had. There was no one without the other. You were still not exactly sure how to feel around him yet, because while Steves conversation had helped it hadn’t made everything you’d been feeling for months disappear. To make matters worse he’d practically paired the two of you up, so avoiding him and trying to figure things out wasn’t really an option. You couldn’t help but mentally roll your eyes. Tony was busy going over all the details about how you had to watch out for each other while you shot your eyes pleadingly at Steve. However, he just shrugged and his words from the previous night were echoed in both your heads.

“What makes you more upset? Your dad being so interested in Peter and so distant from you, or the fact you haven’t had the chance to get to know the only other kid around here that's your age? Or is it something else? Do you like Peter more than you're letting on?”

You could tell from the way Steve's eyes softened and looked between the two of you that he was encouraging you to make the best of it and deep down yes you did want to spend time with Peter (even if you didn’t really understand why the impulse was so strong). Steve wasn’t trying to be a mean. Something told you that he was a lot more observant than he let on and that he knew you better than you knew yourself. Because you were almost certain he knew that you really really didn’t hate Peter at all, and that maybe, maybe, this was the opportunity you needed to see that. This was your chance to figure that out.

You became lost in your own thoughts and you didn’t notice the looks of confusion on the rest of the teams faces as they surveyed the monitors on the jet. You snapped out of your head and noticed that buzzers were beeping aggressively and there was an angry red light flashing continuously above the control deck. Your father pulled a lever and the plane landed abruptly causing you to be thrown around in your seat. Thank god for seatbelts or you would have ended up on the floor and with some nasty bruising on your behind. Something was wrong, you didn’t need a superhero sixth sense to figure that out.

You turned to look at the rest of the team, who all looked equally uneasy with the situation on the screens. Except for Tony who looked angry enough to blow steam and Peter who looked beyond anxious. His senses were going haywire and you could tell by the gloss in his eyes and the way his hand was trembling that he was moments away from a panic attack. You’d experienced a fair few yourself and knew the signs well. You reached out before you could stop yourself and placed a hand on his knee, causing him to jump slightly.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper to him, trying to keep your tone normal and distract him from his increasing panic. You realised those were the first words you’d spoken to him since you’d shaken hands and said initial hello’s on his first day. The first time you’d touched him too. So you weren’t sure if you actually helped or made it worse for him. Because if his senses could sense how you were feeling at the minimal skin to skin contact and the way his eyes looked so panicked you were certain that you’d just made it worse. If it did, he didn’t let it show.

“I’m… I’m not sure, I think we’ve just been ambushed.” He responded quickly, nervous energy still radiating off him. He jumped up and out of your grasp as he headed over to your dad to find out more. You could see him pressing buttons and prepping the rest of the team, sharing hushed words and fearful glances. Peter snuck unnoticed glances at you while listening intently to something Natasha was saying to him. You strained your ears to hear the end trails of the conversation you saw your father and Steve were having.

“I don’t know what happened Tony, but this wasn’t part of the plan.” Steve whisper shouted, looking more and more annoyed by the second.

“You really think I don’t know that…” Tony trailed off, glancing around the rest of the team who appeared ready and like they knew what they were doing. All except for you.

“We’ve got to do something, we can't just leave knowing there's a threat out there.” Bruce interjected, motioning to beyond the doors of the jet at whatever had the team so rilled up. Causing both Steve and Tony to sigh in defeat, knowing he was right.

“You.” Tony said pointing directly to you causing you to focus. Mainly because he was giving you his full attention for the first time in weeks. “You stay on the jet, you hear me.” His tone was panicked and you could tell, in that moment that his fatherly care that had seemed to be absent for so long lingered deep down.

“But Dad… I could… I could…” You muttered, standing up from your uncomfortable plane seat, trying to offer your help. But you had no idea what was going on outside and it wasn’t like you’d been prepped for a battle. You were prepped for search and rescue. This wasn’t what you’d signed up for. This wasn’t something Tony would have allowed you to come on if he’d known this was going to happen, and Steve certainly wouldn’t have encouraged it. They had no intention of putting you in danger.

“Not a discussion” He barked, causing you to stumble back and sit down in your chair. Your hands gripped the leather-bound rests and you clenched your teeth. The rest of the team gathered what weapons they had and got off, ready for a fight whatever was out there, while you sat left to watch from the jet feeling completely helpless.

As he disembarked Peter cast you a glance over his shoulder. There was something different in his eyes, as if your minimal interaction earlier had bridged an invisible gap between you two. The atmosphere felt different and you couldn’t help the butterflies that filled your stomach when his eyes met yours. This was not the re-introduction and bonding mission you’d had thought it would have been when Steve was talking to you last night. The door shut behind him and you were left with silence and a sense of fear about the change in the day's plans.

You must have been sitting in the jet for twenty minutes before you heard the explosions outside. You could hear the team strategizing over the coms connected to the jets internal system and with every crash or rumble outside your unease grew. Your suit feeling way too tight as anxiety for your only family began to wash over you.

You made the mistake of looking out the window, where you saw flashes of Peter’s red and blue suit in between explosions of fire and gunshots. Based on the spacing you’d gauged from the last three explosions you saw him dangerously close to where you figured the next explosion was going to be and the stupid boy was not getting any further away from it. You were screaming at him in your head. God Peter, get back. But he didn’t and it was like you could see it all in slow motion. Boom. Explosion.

Then all you could picture was your father crying at Peter’s funeral. The aura of grief that would surround the team indefinitely. You imagined never seeing his face again and while you used to think that was what you wanted you realised in that moment it really really wasn’t. The sequence of images was so clear in your mind that you were almost scared they were real, or at least some premonition of the future if you didn’t do something about it. Next thing you knew you were out of your seat, out of the jet, running and jumping in front of Peter, pushing him out of the way. Then…

Boom.

Your eyes were shut as searing pain floods your rib cage. Your ears were ringing and all you could smell was smoke. It flooded your lungs making you need to cough which only increased the pain in your chest. You felt like you were on fire and all you could do was pray that you weren’t. You felt heavy, and you just wanted to sleep. The pain was beginning to become exhausting, you were almost ready to succumb to unconsciousness when you heard him. Him. Peter.

“Oh god, oh no no no no. Why would you do that? Oh no no no no no. Please no. Do not die on me. Do you hear me? You are not going to die on me. Mr Stark! Mr Stark! Emergency!” Peter’s voice was muffled by his mask and the explosion but you could still make out the panicked strain in his voice as he shouted over the coms desperately for your dad.

“Okay kid, it’s okay. I’m coming, just try and keep her awake. Okay?” Tony's voice was much calmer than Peter’s but you knew him and you could tell he was freaking out just as much. But Tony needed to keep a level head or Peter would lose his shit and he couldn’t cope with that and deal with you. Your eyes fluttered open and landed on Peter, crowned in a halo of burning amber light from the explosions behind him. He was lifting you up gently to avoid causing you any more pain.

“I have to get you back to the jet, okay?” He mumbled, more to himself than to you. “Why would you do that?” He asked, voice strained and laced with something you couldn’t quite decipher. Almost like it was thicker, like he was on the verge of tears. He was holding you with one arm now and using the other to brush a stray hair from your face.

“My d…dad would be crushed if you died, P…Parker.” You coughed as your arms locked around Peter’s neck. You wondered if you fell would he catch you? You felt him sigh heavily under you and you were almost certain that if you weren’t in his arms he would have run a hand across his face in dismay.

“And what if you died!” He spoke, exasperated. “Did you think about that?” Your concentration was fading and the pain was not subsiding. In an attempt to numb it you closed your eyes but you began slipping in and out of consciousness. “Hey, no no no no, you have to stay awake. Just until we’re on the jet, you just have to stay awake.” The anger from Peters tone had disappeared and you could feel his pace increasing as if he was sprinting back to safety.

You tried to talk to him, but your words never made it further than your head. Your throat still clogged with smoke and the effort of breathing beginning to get tedious. You felt the clutched of darkness calling you and the last thing you remembered was Peter placing you on the ground in the jet and the way he looked like he was going to throw up before Bruce and Tony worked around you trying to gauge how bad your injuries were. Then you slipped under and all there was darkness.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

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let me know here if you want to be added (or alternatively removed)

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mastrechef · 4 years

Text

I finally finished one of my other writing projects, so I came back to this early. So here’s the next installment of my Kingdom Hearts fic that I still have yet to come up with a name for.

If you haven’t read the previous parts, here are links:

Part 1: https://mastrechef.tumblr.com/post/610880203769757696/this-idea-has-been-stewing-in-my-mind-for-a-while

Part 2: https://mastrechef.tumblr.com/post/611540563650609152/more-kingdom-hearts-stuff-just-because-i-feel-like

The scene was familiar, and yet at the same time not. She looked like no more than a doll, motionless and absent of any sign of life aside from the faint rise and fall of her chest. Looking on, Namine felt the usual stirring of remorse as a different image superimposed itself over Kairi. She had already spent far too much time standing by the wayside, watching while others slept away, unaware of the world moving on without them. To be in that situation again, even if—or perhaps, especially if—her involvement was minimal, left her feeling unsettled.

“How are things looking?” And there was Riku, checking in for updates like clockwork.

“Still nothing I’m afraid. Ienzo and the others were thinking it might be time to wake her up.” Riku nodded distractedly. Namine contemplated him for a moment. He had been running himself ragged lately, although he tried his best not to show it, his misplaced guilt over Sora’s disappearance driving him to extremes. Idly, she wondered when he’d last had a decent night’s sleep.

Speaking of sleep… “I heard you’ve started looking into your dreams for leads.”

“That’s right.” He huffed in discontent. “I feel like there’s something there, but I don’t really know what it is I’m looking for.”

Namine pursed her lips together, debating to herself. There had been something on her mind for a while now, something she hadn’t really known how to address. If anyone should know about it, it was Riku; yet, she still found herself hesitating. Her powers had caused nothing but pain, and if she could live the rest of her life without using them again she would be happy. More than anything, she wanted them to be gone. But in this case, her lingering connection to Sora might be their best lead. As much as she disliked it, she owed him this much.

“There’s something I need to show you,” she said eventually, flipping through the sketchbook she carried with her everywhere. She skipped past all the old drawings of Sora and of Roxas, past the newer sketches of Radiant Garden, finally coming to a halt on an image that stood out from the rest in its monochrome coloration. “The place in your dream...does it look like this?”

He took the offered sketchbook from her to examine the drawing in detail. “The buildings themselves look different, but something tells me they’re the same place. How did you know?”

“I suspected as much,” she said mostly to herself. “It was so strange, I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. It seems my ability to influence Sora’s memories still works. I pulled this from some of his newest memories.”

“You mean you can tell what Sora’s been up to? What he’s doing right now?”

“Sort of. The memories are distorted, and they’ve only been getting worse.”

“Still, it’s another avenue we can pursue.” He took Namine’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” Riku understood what it was that she was offering; he also understood just what it would cost her. Already she felt anxious. For Sora, she reminded herself.

...

He’s like a stray cat, Sora couldn’t help but think when Vanitas inevitably hunted him down again, this time aimlessly wandering the winding city streets. About as prickly as one too. He made a mental note never to mention that out loud. He had a feeling Vanitas would take issue with the comparison. Deciding to let the other start the conversation this time, Sora kept his silence. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Who is that guy you’re always fighting?”

“His name’s Yozora, although I don’t think that’s really him.” Sora didn’t bother to elaborate further. He had the barest inkling of what was really going on, though Yozora’s role in it was the one thing he was certain of.

Nevertheless, Vanitas obviously understood anyway. “He’s the reason you’re stuck here.” It wasn’t a question; rather it was a confident assertion.

“Yeah.” Sora took a moment to scrutinize the other boy. There were deep bags under his eyes and weariness hung over him like a cloak. While physically they looked to be about the same age, Vanitas looked to be much more weighed down, like every instant just existing was felt as a physical burden. An ache of a different kind bloomed in his chest. “Why don’t you stay with me for a while?” he offered on impulse. “My heart has always been a sanctuary for others. I was able to help Ventus become whole again; I could do the same for you.”

Vanitas shot him a flat stare. “You don’t get it.”

“I’m not dumb. I don’t know all the details, but I know that everything you’ve been through must have been painful.” He had enough vague impressions from Roxas and Xion to understand that much. And he himself knew intimately the pain of not being enough; not strong enough, not fast enough, not worthy enough. More gently, he said, “At least if you stay with me you won’t ever be alone. And if you want to sleep and ignore the world for a while, that’s fine too.”

The sound of Vanitas’ footsteps halted, and Sora stopped as well to look back at him.

“Why are you trying so hard to save me?” If he was trying for aggressive, all he achieved was sounding mildly annoyed. Above all else, he just sounded tired. It made Sora incredibly sad to see someone in such a state.

“Because you deserve a chance. All you’ve known is darkness, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have something else.” He put as much sincerity into both his words and his expression as he could. He wanted—no, needed Vanitas to believe him.

In the face of Sora’s earnest desire to help, Vanitas was unable to refuse. Sora could read it in his eyes. He beamed. Vanitas stubbornly avoided looking at him directly, seeming to already be regretting his decision, but all the same, he didn’t call up a dark corridor to get away.

“So how does this work?”

“I have no clue. I don’t really remember how it happened before. Maybe—if it’s anything like the power of waking, it’ll come to me when I need it.”

Without warning, Sora grabbed Vanitas by the wrist to pull him close, simultaneously placing a hand on his chest, digging blunt nails in slightly when he tried to flinch away. He closed his eyes in concentration. He had opened his heart to Ventus once, and later to Kairi, Roxas, and presumably Xion, even if he hadn’t been conscious of it at the time. Now, he just needed to replicate that. His heart would lead the way.

There was a slight shift in energy, and a tingle went down his spine. Sora could sense it now, the flickering pinprick of light coated in darkness that was Vanitas’ heart. He focused on it, drawing it out. Vanitas exhaled in a woosh, but Sora didn’t acknowledge it, focused as he was. Come to me, he willed. There was a sudden pulse and Sora nearly lost his balance as Vanitas disappeared in a shower of light. In his mind’s eye, he could see Vanitas descending gently onto his station of awakening.

“Oh,” he whispered breathlessly. The void that had opened up when Ventus woke was shrinking, the cracks in his heart filling in. The old, persistent ache was gone. In its place he felt...surprisingly warm, like a flame had ignited within his chest. It was a little strange, but not unwelcome. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who had forgotten what being whole was like.

You cozy in there? He was only a little startled to actually receive a reply.

Just peachy. Now shut the fuck up and let me sleep. But don’t think I won’t take over if you start doing stupid shit.

Got it.

Sora lifted his gaze to the stars overhead, renewed resolve flowing into him. He had a feeling that his next meeting with Yozora would go very differently.

Dodging immediately to the side had become so routine as to be pure muscle memory. He brought his keyblade up to block the swift alternating succession of laser beams and sword strikes. Feeling faster than he had in all their previous battles, Sora took the initiative to charge Yozora, landing a couple solid strikes to his midsection. Yozora backflipped away, and Sora held back, knowing he would be readying his next attack.

Phantom sword slashes flew through the air as Sora danced around them. Narrowly twisting away from another one, he threw a firaga his opponent’s way, distracting him enough to allow Sora to close the distance once more. A surge of exhilaration flooded his body. After what felt like an entire lifetime fighting heartless or nobodies or any resident big bad that was up to no good, battle was in his blood. As much as he’d like nothing better than to return to Destiny Islands with Riku and Kairi, he doubted he could settle into a peaceful life. A restless part of him would always seek out adventure or the adrenaline rush of a good fight.

When Yozora retreated from his assault again, Sora tensed his muscles in preparation. He rolled away before the glowing red pyramid could trap him. As soon as he got to his feet, he instantly spun around, bracing his keyblade against Yozora’s lightning quick onslaught. He evaded a second pyramid, then cast thundaga to interrupt the other’s rhythm.

The battle continued, becoming more of a competition of stamina. The fatigue that had plagued Sora before was non-existent. He felt so energized that he could go on like this for ages. Yozora showed no signs of slowing either.

An idea formed as he recalled the fight at the Keyblade Graveyard. Pouring all his magic into it, he summoned forth the ultimate keyblade transformation. Surrounded by a swarm of blades, he had but to direct them towards Yozora. He was quickly overwhelmed.

Yozora collapsed to his knees, panting in exertion. He lifted a hand as it began dispersing into blue light. “I guess...that my powers aren’t needed yet.”

“What do you mean?” Sora was confused. What powers? Was Yozora not the one who trapped him here?

Yozora’s expression turned strangely melancholy. “Nevermind.” He gave Sora one last tiny, barely there smile before everything burst into light.

Sora uncovered his eyes, blinking away the spots burned into his vision, to see the cloud filled sky and mirror-like watery landscape of the Final World. The last specks of light drifted off into the air like puffs of dandelions blown by the wind.

#kingdom hearts #post-kingdom hearts iii #ficlet #namine #riku #sora #vanitas #yozora #this is basically the end of the prologue of this story #now i need to get cracking on planning the actual story

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eddiesasspbrak · 4 years

Text

When I’m With You Ch. 14

Eddie can’t stand the barista at his favorite coffee shop. Richie has fallen in love with the man he sees twice a week. Stan is dating someone but won’t let his friends meet them. Ben is in love with Beverly, but is so afraid of scaring her away he’s not moving forward. Chaotic friends navigating college together.

Be advised that the rating has changed with this chapter

Ch. 1

Ch. 15

Read on AO3

3k+ words

On Wednesday, Bev brought an old office chair over to Eddie’s place so he could get around his apartment easily. It wasn’t ideal but if he used one crutch like an ore, he could speed around and only crashed about half the time. Thursday, Bev woke up early and picked him up to take him to class and then crashed in Ben’s dorm until they were done. After their later class, she drove all three of them to get lunch and then took him back home. Eddie was endlessly grateful for his friends and their willingness to help him out. His ankle was already feeling better, but he’d been instructed to stay off of it as much as possible until it was completely healed.

On Thursday evening, he stood long enough to help Richie make dinner. When his ankle felt a little weak or sore, he’d lean against his side and balance on his good foot until he was ok again. Every time, Richie would tilt his head down to rest against Eddie’s and it filled him to the brim with joy. Also, it was adorable.

Friday, Richie had to work so Eddie spent his day doing homework and wheeling around on the office chair cleaning what he could. It was harder to clean at the moment and he was going a little mad. Richie had taken the trash out for him, but he had to figure out a way to sweep and mop either with one crutch or in the chair. Laundry was next to impossible, and Richie said he’d help him carry his things down, but he was embarrassed to have him see and carry his dirty clothing. It was stupid to be embarrassed by it. He knew Richie didn’t care.

The plan for the day was to hang out at Richie’s. He was really excited the night before about some kind of surprise and Eddie was a little anxious. He didn’t do well with surprises. Knowing Richie, it could be something really sweet or really chaotic. He figured he’d go easy on him seeing as he was injured, but Eddie had no way of knowing until he got home. Part of the day was spent agonizing over what it could be. He did his best to distract himself though when he took a shower, his mind had time to wander.

By the time 5pm rolled around, he’d wound himself up. He’d heard the elevator ding, and someone rush past his door and a second later a door closed down the hall. He was sure it was Richie hurrying to shower and change, or maybe get something ready. Eddie sat up and stared at his phone, waiting to hear from him. The only little bit of information Richie had given him, was that he had to go over to his place for dinner. They switched up whose apartment they ate at. Eddie’s place had a bigger TV, but Richie had an actual dining table they could eat at.

Instead of coming to get him, Richie texted Eddie to let him know he was ready for him. It wasn’t a long wait and the curiosity was only growing as Eddie wondered what had him so excited. He was able to get around with only one crutch now, so that’s all he took so he could easily lock his door behind him. He’d already put his shoes on while he’d been waiting. He knew Richie would tease him for wearing them just to walk down the hall, but the floor was disgusting. Hundreds of people walked on it and he didn’t want their germs.

Before he could even raise his hand to knock, the door was opening as if Richie had been listening on the other side and watching through the peephole. The grin on his face was wide and slightly mischievous. He was blocking his entrance and his ability to see within the apartment.

“Good evening Spaghetti. How are you?” He asked.

“I’m...fine. Hoping my boyfriend will let me into his apartment soon.”

“He will but only if you are ready for the surprise in store.”

“I am. I think. What is it?”

“I can’t just tell you. That takes all the fun out of it.”

“Ok, just tell me...is it messy? Scary? Should I have brought my coat?”

“No. You are perfect as is. Though you will have to lose the shoes.”

“Please, for the love of god, just show me.” Eddie couldn’t resist smiling and the giggle that slipped past his lips. He was still nervous, but Richie had this relaxing effect on him without even trying.

“Only because you said please.”

Richie stepped aside to allow Eddie access and as soon as he entered, he saw what he’d been hiding. In the center of his living room, in front of the TV, was a fort. The chair from the table had been brought over to support two corners, part of it was attached to the chair that hung from the ceiling. The last bit of it stretched up and over the TV. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. He definitely had not been expecting that and it was both adorable and whimsical. A very Richie thing to do.

“You built a blanket fort.” Eddie said, turning back to Richie, his smile bright.

“I did. And it doesn’t end there.” Richie stepped forward and held a part of the sheet up for Eddie. “Shoes off.”

Eddie kicked his shoes off by the door and propped his crutch against a wall. Carefully, he limped to the fort and ducked down to enter. Inside, the beanbags were arranged in a triangle formation to make one big seating area. Fairy lights were secured around the top with safety pins. The TV was turned on with a movie queued and ready to go. Eddie felt his heart swell with emotion as he lowered himself to his knees and took it all in.

Richie entered a second later, his hands full with two bags and two to-go cups full of pop. He sat across from Eddie and set the things between them. “Whataya think?”

“It’s the most romantic fort I’ve ever been in.” Eddie was embarrassed by the catch in his voice. He’d had all of his friends doing things for him all week, but this wasn’t a necessary thing. This was just a silly, cute thing Richie decided to do for him for a date night and he was honestly touched by it.

“Last surprise. I picked up some Thai food. Pad Thai, gang gai, satay and spring rolls.” He named each thing as he pulled them from the bag as well as a container of white rice. He had forks, chopsticks and plates already set to one side of the fort.

Before he could continue, Eddie rose up on his knees and cupped his face between his hands, bringing their lips together. Richie was surprised having been distracted but melted into it a second later. Eddie pulled away slightly, staying close enough that he could feel Richie’s breath on his lips.

“I really, really like you.” He said, breathless.

Richie smiled and lifted one hand to gently brush against Eddie’s cheek. “I really like you too, Eds.” He pressed another quick kiss to his mouth. “Let’s eat before it gets cold. There’s plenty of time for kissing later to appease your insatiable libido.”

Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes. “Way to ruin a nice moment, asshole.”

They sat back against the beanbags and served themselves food before Richie started the movie. When they were done eating, Eddie helped gather everything up into the bags and Richie carried them out. With everything clean, they were able to sit onto of the beanbags, cuddled close. Eddie still didn’t love the idea of the beanbags, but with his head against Richie’s shoulder and his arm around him, he could forget all about it.

The movie was pretty boring and formulaic. The guy and the girl would end up together in the end in some cliché way. It was the part of the movie where they were dating before the inevitable issue that would break them up for a while and they could run through an airport or something. Eddie wasn’t too invested in the plot, instead focusing on the warmth radiating off of Richie. His hand was big and hot against his shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath Eddie’s head was enough to lull him to sleep. But he didn’t want to sleep.

They’d been dating for nearly two weeks, but it felt like it had been longer. Possibly because of how long they’d known each other through the café and Richie’s insistent flirting for just as long. Maybe it was because they spent nearly every day together, or at least shared dinner together. Maybe it was just because this was Eddie first real taste of what a relationship felt like. He didn’t know, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling rising up within him. He wanted to be with Richie all the time. Touch him all the time. He wanted everything from Richie and wanted to give everything to him.

It felt impulsive when Eddie rose up on his elbows to kiss Richie, but he’d spent the better part of the second half of the movie agonizing about what he wanted to do. So, when he connected their lips and dove his tongue into Richie’s mouth, he did it with purpose. He knew what he wanted in that moment and he’d never felt so sure of anything in his life. The way Richie’s fingers tangled in his hair as he held him close sent shivers down his spine. Eddie had always found kissing rather revolting but as he licked his way past Richie’s teeth, he found that he loved it. Loved it with Richie because it was Richie.

Richie gently pushed Eddie to lie back so he could hover over him. Eddie grabbed Richie by the back of the neck to keep him close, not that he was trying to pull away to begin with. It seemed like Richie’s hands were determined to touch every inch of Eddie, but never drifting beyond his waist. Of course, he remembered what Eddie had said last time. He wasn’t ready for more than this. Except he was now, and he made it known by pressing his hips upward against Richie where he could feel just how tight his jeans were becoming.

Pulling back in response, Richie looked down at Eddie’s red cheeks and pupils blown wide, his wet lips hanging open as he panted slightly from the kiss.

“Should I stop?” He asked, cupping Eddie’s cheek with one hand and running his thumb over his bottom lip. He really hoped he’d tell him to keep going but he was prepared to back off if it’s what Eddie wanted.

“No. I’m ok. I… I want to.” Eddie felt as if his throat had gone dry and he swallowed thickly. “I mean, maybe not everything. But some stuff is ok.”

“That’s pretty vague, Eds.” Richie chuckled. “Just tell me to stop if I do something you don’t like, ok?”

Eddie nodded his head, his stomach doing a flip as Richie bent his head down to suck a bruise above his collarbone. Now having permission, Richie wasted no time finding the hem of Eddie’s shirt and pushing a hand beneath. He trailed kisses interspersed with little nips of his teeth along his neck and jawline up to his ear. Meanwhile, his hands were exploring every bit of skin he could reach, sliding over his stomach and chest, making him shiver from the heat.

Never so badly had Eddie wanted to be touched. Everyone, he thought, craved some kind of human contact and he often found that in his friends as they weren’t strangers to showing affection physically with one another. This was different. He couldn’t ever remember a time when he wanted to be touched like this. Not even with the first little bit of sexual experience he’d had. That time he’d just wanted it to end so he could leave. He’d washed his hands for twenty minutes in water as hot as he could stand never truly feeling clean even when Ben dragged him away from the sink.

Now, as Richie pushed his shirt up and pressed a kiss just above his navel, he felt like a fire had ignited along his nerve endings. Richie looked up at him from above his glasses, his fingers finding the button of his jeans and silently asking permission to go on. Eddie nodded furiously, his body feeling hot all over as Richie’s long fingers made quick work of the button and zipper, shimming the jeans down his hips. Eddie’s heart was pounding in his ears, his blood rushing while he watched Richie curl his fingers under the elastic of his briefs as if in slow motion.

The anticipation and arousal became too much when Richie licked his hand and finally wrapped his hot fingers around Eddie, causing a moan to slip past his lips at the feel of his touch. Richie stared up at his face as he began to move his hand, watching the little changes in his expression. His lips hung open, pants and moans of pleasure falling from his lips. His eyes went from being screwed shut to peaking down at Richie, to closing again in embarrassment. Richie let his own eyes drift down to the dick in his hand as Eddie twisted his hips and thrust up into his grip.

Precum beaded at the tip, occasionally dripping down onto his fingers. Wanting to hear more of Eddie’s gasps and moans and wanting to make him feel good, Richie bent his head down to lap at the head of his cock. Eddie gasps, dropping his head back and gripping the beanbag in his fingers. The fabric was old and likely to rip when pulled on too roughly as Eddie was, but Richie didn’t care. He loved watching Eddie fall apart at his touch and wouldn’t stop for anything. Except Eddie asking him to stop. Though given his current state, Richie didn’t foresee that happening any time soon.

Richie slowly ran his tongue over the underside of his dick, wrapping his lips over his teeth when he rose to the top again and taking in what he could. Richie Tozier was not a stranger to sucking cock and he knew his limitations well. He could feel Eddie’s muscles tensing beneath his hand on his thigh as his whines turned high pitch and nasally. A string of “Richie, Richie, Riiiiichie” fell from his lips, his back arching up. The only warning given before he spilled onto Richie’s waiting tongue, was a sharp gasp.

His eyes watering slightly, Richie swallowed down the cum in his mouth, running his tongue over Eddie’s over stimulated dick in means of cleaning up. Eddie was breathing heavily, his eyes open wide, pupils huge, wet in the corners. Richie wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his sweater and laid beside Eddie, propped up on his elbow and looking down at his face.

“You ok there Eds?” He asked, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his head to look at him.

“I…I’m ok.” Eddie said between panting and swallowing to wet his dry throat. “No one has ever done that before. I think I left my body for a second.”

Richie chuckled and ran his hand back over Eddie’s hair. “I should have warned you that I’m at the Olympic level of giving head.”

“Yea, a warning would have been nice.” Eddie smiled, closing his eyes and leaning into Richie’s touch. “Give me a second for my head to stop spinning and I’ll return the favor. Or some variation anyway.”

“It will be an easy task given how hot you were just now. I swear I also came in my jeans.”

Eddie laughed as he grabbed for his briefs to pull them back on, leaving his jeans where they were. It was cold and he didn’t want to be completely uncovered but after having his dick in Richie’s mouth, modesty wasn’t a thing anymore. When he turned back, he found that Richie had already removed his own jeans in anticipation. Eddie smiled and raised his eyebrows at him.

Richie shrugged. “Thought I’d help out.” He grinned.

Eddie definitely had never given head before and he wasn’t sure he was ready to give it a go just yet. He had no problem, however, jerking Richie off. He was actually kind of excited at the prospect of making Richie feel good and touching the man that he was falling in love with for the first time. He felt a little giddy, albeit nervous, as he slid his hand beneath the elastic of his briefs and pulled his length from within. He was bigger than he’d expected, and Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of potential future activities with Richie.

His fingers could meet when wrapped around his shaft, but he did his best. Richie was already leaking, and Eddie used that to lubricate his hand, allowing it to glide more easily. Richie was watching his face and it made him nervous. He’s pulled his bottom lip between his teeth but otherwise didn’t know what kind of expression he was showing. Not that he should worry too much given the look he must have had on his face just a few moments before.

“That’s good, Eds…fuck you’re so pretty.” Richie said, placing a hand under Eddie’s chin, making him look up at him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about this.” A shudder went through Richie as he spoke.

Eddie’s face felt hot and he tried to focus on the speed of his hand and what he could do to make Richie feel even better. Richie wasn’t willing to let him look away though, keeping his hand on his chin.

“Don’t hate me when I say that I have used your image in my head to get off before. I know you said it was gross-.”

“No, no it’s not I was joking. I…I have too.” Eddie said quickly.

Richie groaned deep in his throat his hand finally moving from his chin to grip his shoulder. “Fuck, Eddie!” He growled unable to hold back anymore as he came across his fingers and his own stomach.

Eddie’s throat felt dry once more as he took in Richie’s disheveled appearance, eyes glassy and glasses knocked slightly askew. He hadn’t expected him to be so talkative, though really, he should have seen it coming given that Richie hardly ever stopped talking.

“Damn. Sorry for the lack of warning there. That little admission of yours sent images directly to my brain and that was it for me.” Riche said, pushing his hair back out of his face.

“It’s fine, I just need to wash my hands.” Eddie said, knowing well that just a simple wash would be enough and nothing like the time before.

“I kind of…have it covered…” Richie said sheepishly, reaching beneath one of the beanbags and revealing a package of handi-wipes. “I’ve kind of been stashing these around in case something like this happened. I wasn’t anticipating it tonight I just…are you mad?”

“No. You should have told me before. Preparing for cleanup in one of my turn-ons.” Eddie grinned.

Richie laughed as he ripped open the package and took Eddie’s sullied hand on his and wiped at his palm. He still felt like he needed to wash them and maybe take a shower, but he didn’t want to leave yet. Richie cleaned himself up as well before tucking his softening dick back into his briefs. He fell back on the beanbags, dropping the pack of wipes on the floor and opening his arms wide. Eddie took his cue and snuggled in beside him as his arms came down around him.

The movie was still playing though it was nearing its end. Eddie didn’t care if he’d missed most of it. He felt sleepy, ready to doze off any second. The warmth coming from Richie and the scrape of his nails over his scalp as he gently combed his fingers through Eddie’s hair was enough to lull him into sleep.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #It (2017)#it (2019)#Ro writes

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misc-headcanons · 4 years

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Hello, I was wondering if I could get a scenario with best boy Kirishima, where he finds out that the reader has really bad anxiety? Symptoms like being extremely self-critical, having trust issues, worrying about problems that don’t even exist, and just overthinking in general. I guess stuff like how he would react, help them, or comfort them. If you don’t feel comfortable writing about this topic I understand. I love your blog, and all the great writing you do!! 💕❤️

(No problem! I have anxiety and writing stuff like this is kind of therapeutic for me, tbh. Writing about it helps me think about/recognize signs of when I’m becoming anxious and how I can help manage it when it gets to be overwhelming)

TW: Anxiety/panic attack, intrusive negative thoughts, minor dissociation

Kirishima prides himself on being able to support his classmates and loved ones like a rock, physically (with his Quirk) and emotionally. Since you were his s/o, you definitely weren’t an exception to this rule. There was one day where Mina had invited you to go out shopping with her and Tsuyu after school, but you had declined by saying that you were terrible to shop with; you always took too much time to decide if you wanted something, and you could never keep up with your friends when walking through the mall. “I’d just slow you down,” you replied.

Kirishima frowned, but didn’t say anything until Mina had said that it was all good, and that she’d see you tomorrow before heading out of the classroom. Kirishima responded with a sweet pep-talk to boost your spirits, talking about how you were great to shop with, and that it isn’t a problem if you take a while to decide on something--it’s smart to do that! “I make impulsive decisions all the time,” he added. “I have a bunch of shirts I haven’t worn in years because I thought they looked good, I bought ‘em, and then I just never wore them again. And Mina’s the same way, so you’d be a great person to bring with her while shopping for clothes and stuff!” You had given him a small smile and since you didn’t talk poorly about yourself for the rest of the day, Kirishima thought that he’d definitely pulled you out of your funk.

However, he started to notice that this was more than just a one-off incident of feeling down. While you were sitting at lunch together a few days later, you’d mentioned how you were worried that Aizawa was upset with you because you hadn’t paid attention during roll call and he had to say your name twice. Kirishima thought you were just joking at first, but when he saw that you were on the verge of tears and wondering out loud if Aizawa hated you for wasting his time, and if you even really should be at UA because you’re such a wreck and everyone in 1A is much better at being a Hero than you, and--

Kirishima cut you off, and he moved his food out of the way to hold your hand across the table. “Hey, hey,” he reassured gently. “Aizawa doesn’t hate you, especially not because of something like that! Everyone zones out sometimes, don’t worry about it!” He’d flashed you a toothy grin, but he noticed that your fingers were shaky and tense.

“Yeah, but…” You sighed and looked down at the table. “Okay, you’re probably right,” you replied with a small, sheepish smile. “I’m just being stupid and overreacting, as usual.”

Kirishima cocked his head. “You’re not stupid,” he replied, confused at your remark.

“Well, not stupid,” you said hastily, “Just...Agh, I don’t know how to describe it.” You bit your lip as you tried to come up with a way to articulate your thoughts. “I just think way too much about little things, even if I know they’re little things. I can’t help it.” You rubbed your thumb and forefinger together absentmindedly. “Like last night when I texted if you were doing anything, I was freaking out because I thought you were busy and I was distracting you, and that’s why you were taking so long to reply back. But you weren’t actually taking so long to reply back, I was just worried about not getting a response right away, and then I thought that that was a selfish thing to think because I’m not the only person in your life, and I was all ‘Oh my God, I’m a terrible partner’ and it just kind of spiraled out from there.”

Kirishima listened to you, growing more and more concerned. Have they always been like this, or is something causing it? “Do you feel that way a lot?” He asked. “That can’t be an easy way to live, thinking like that all the time.” He squeezed your hand. “You’re not a terrible partner,” he said firmly. “You know that now, right?”

As he looked at you with wide, concerned eyes, your thoughts started to race again. Great, now he thinks something’s wrong with you. He knows something’s wrong with you. Why did you have to stress him out like this, he’s already got so much to do without you adding to his troubles. You really are a terrible partner. He just hasn’t realized it yet.

You tried to quiet the negative thoughts and insults flooding your head, and you were so distracted by trying to push them out that you hadn’t answered Kirishima’s question. Kirishima leaned towards you a little bit. “____?”

His voice snapped you out of your mind, and you blinked. “Yeah?” Your cheeks felt warm as you realized that you’d forgotten to answer his question. Wait, what did he say? God, why are you such a scatterbrain? How did you even get into UA? Your heart felt like it was beating uncomfortably fast, and your palms felt clammy. “I…” you started, closed your mouth, and tried to start again. “I think I need to go to the nurse.” Your breathing was more shallow than usual.

Kirishima nodded quickly and helped you out of your chair. “Okay,” he replied, trying to remain calm so that you wouldn’t get any more panicked. “Here, do you need to lean on me? I can carry you too, if you want.” You shook your head quickly, and he escorted you to Recovery Girl’s office. The whole way there, you were completely silent and tried to focus on your breathing while Kirishima eyed you carefully every few seconds to make sure you weren’t about to faint.

When you two arrived at Recovery Girl’s door, he helped you sit down onto the nearest cot as Recovery Girl walked over to you two. “Oh dear,” she remarked, recognizing your symptoms. “Here, Kirishima, give her some space while I get her medication. Actually, could you get some water for her?”

Kirishima nodded and quickly grabbed a nearby paper cup and filled it with water from the sink while Recovery Girl took a pill bottle from one of her labeled cabinets. When she handed you a small white pill, you mumbled a small thank you before swallowing it with the water Kirishima had gotten you.

“Are they going to be okay?” Kirishima asked nervously, lowering his voice so you wouldn’t hear him fretting over you. “They just started acting like this out of nowhere. Is it a medical thing, or someone using their Quirk on her, or what?”

Recovery Girl shook her head. “No, no, they’ll be fine after a while,” she reassured. “Anxiety attacks may make you feel like you’re about to die, and unfortunately even with medication, you just have to...well, ride the wave until it’s over.”

Kirishima raised his eyebrows. ____ has anxiety? Has this happened before? He glanced over at his partner as they closed their eyes and tried to take deep breaths, and mumbled something over and over under their breath. He turned back to Recovery Girl. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Staying with them while they ride it out would help,” she replied, “But you should ask them instead of assuming.”

Kirishima gently rested a hand on your arm, and you opened your eyes. “Hey,” he replied softly. “Is it okay if I stay with you? I’ll do what I can to help.” You nodded silently, and he eased his way onto the cot in a sitting position. “What usually helps?” he asked.

You were quiet for a moment, and looked up at him. “Finding things to distract me,” you replied. “Counting to ten, breathing slowly, touching something to ground myself, stuff like that.”

Kirishima nodded. “Do you want to hold my hand?” He held his hand out, and you nodded before carefully intertwining your fingers with his. You closed your eyes and quietly counted to ten, occasionally squeezing his hand to feel him and prevent yourself from dissociating any further. Kirishima tentatively squeezed back, and you smiled a bit with your eyes still closed, squeezing him back again. The two of you worked out a pattern where you’d squeeze his hand at every odd number, and he’d squeeze your hand when you got to an even number. After a few minutes, you felt well enough to sit up and (with his help) make your way back to class.

“Whenever that happens, I can do that stuff again if you want,” Kirishima offered. “Now that I know about it, I don’t want to just leave you hanging if it happens while I’m around.”

You nodded, not saying anything but leaning against him a little bit. “That...that would be nice,” you replied. “You did really well, by the way, considering you didn’t know what was going on with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a small smile, counting on your fingers. “You got me out of the cafeteria, which is good because being around too many people makes it worse. You asked me what I needed instead of just doing it, so I wasn’t surprised or startled when you touched me and got me out of my chair, and you helped ground me afterwards.” You reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thanks for being here.”

Kirishima smiled and squeezed your hand back. “ Of course,” he replied with a toothy grin. “I’ll always be here!”

#kirishima #kirishima eijiro #bnha #bnha scenario #bnha scenarios #mine #eijiro kirishima #Anonymous

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lovingikesen · 5 years

Text

💕Cradlesona, yay! I decided to join the revolution because its a fun idea and nothing better that self-insert without feel shame about it (: thanks to @lovingsiriusoswald for the lovely idea and for encourage people to do this!

Information (i actually wrote a lot, if you do read it let me tell you, you are an angel)

Name: Kat

Nickname: Kat (so creative xD but hey, actually the name is other but people always say it wrong so she changed it to Kat)

Birthday: 15th December

Age: 23

Height: 155 cm, a lil hobbit

Blood type: A mistery! probably Kyle can help, but wait, she hates needles so nope.

Physical

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Between light brown and medium brown

Accessories: Some tattoos and ocassionally flower rings

Features: Light freckles

Illness: None chronic but its propense to get ill

Social

Affiliation : Neutral

Occupation: Poor girl doing her best (visual artist).

Relationships:

Ray Blackwell:

Best cat lover fella. Will feed, adopt and pet every single cat they can. They builded a refuge for them together, she take care of it and Ray will come by on his free time

Sirius Oswald

: what a babe she thought, since then has a deep crush on him. Will always blush and awkawrdly laugh around him.

Luka Clemence:

Good friends, they like to escape crowded places together to be in peace. A lot of bake together and long chit chats

Seth Hyde:

Have you ever hear about extroverts adopting introverts? Thats Seth. He is the reason why she met the Black Army. Pretty close.

Fenrir Godspeed:

Never.let.them.together. He will do anything stupid and she will say ‘why didnt occur to me first?’ and join him.

Lancelot Kingsley:

Is a little bit afraid of him but shares his fear to needles.

Jonah Clemence:

Let the sassy competence start. None of them will shut up until someone separate them. Secretely thinks is a good mom of the Red Army.

Edgar Bright:

Thinks is more scary than Lancelot but always share candies, theres always space for a sugar lover. Will share tips of which candie store is better.

Zero:

What an angel. Will drink orange juice with him at parties.

Kyle Ash:

Friends. He may not be a veterinarian but she will ask for help or books related to animals so she can take care of the cats. Occasionally drinking buddies.

Blanc Lapin:

A pure gentleman. A lot of tea parties together with Oliver.

Oliver Knight:

who has the sharper tongue? This happen only with him but besides that they get along pretty well. Always mess up Oliver’s inventions, she cant help it, her hands are made of butter and everything slips.

Harr Silver

: Met him on the forest thanks to Blanc. Long talks and shares about magic.

Loki Genetta:

Do not step closer with that fish. She dont like fish, she dont eat fish, please return it to the river you savage. Besides that get along pretty well, he will always made her company on long walks trough the city or the forest. Of course will go to the cat refuge with Ray and will help them to take care of them. You can say the three of them are the founders of it.

Personality

Super quiet at first but once you break that wall will never shut up, please somebody stop her.

Curse her sarcastic nature.

Can laugh at everything and will constantly make jokes about everything, please help her.

Good listener, feels bad when people is sad so will always try to help and made them feel better.

Actually is really calm but will have some burst of energy every since and then.

Will never tell you something is wrong until cant take it anymore.

Pretty optimistic

Even if she is wrong it wont tell you until some days has passed.

As introvert it will need time for her own. Gets emotionally tired with too many social events, likes to have time to herself

Gets distracted really easily and is really obssesive with the cleaning. Do not mess with her system of cleaning please, it will made her anxious, and yet her room is a disaster. What a curious creature.

Can be impulsive and reckless

Family and History

Blanc brought her from the land of the reason when she was little and lost. He found her adoptive parents to keep her safe from the Magic Tower. On the day that went dark her parents dissappear. Blanc has secretely taken care of her. Basically his dad.

Good at studying bad at school. Study art and has made it as a freelancer, giving her enough to maintain her and the cats.

After being independet began to study veterinary.

Natural curiosity towards magic, thanks to Harr’s help has found a way to manipulate energy around her without using her own. A lot of foundations based on land of the reason magic. Its a secret between Harr, Blanc and her.

Skills and Special Abilities

She doesnt fight but if she has to run for her life you bet she will run faster than anyone.

Really perceptive. May have the ability of a tactician too but she prefers not get involved.

...can paint xD 🎉🎉

Paired with: Sirius Oswald...soon

Life in Cradle: Her life is her job and the cat shelter. Will spend a lot of time with the Black Army because of Seth and Sirius, occasionally will help with regular duties on black headquarters when it can. Will help Harr and Loki go against the magic tower in the shadows. Papa Blanc is not happy about it but trust that with Harr nothing bad will happen. Go to @lovingsiriusoswald tumblr and search for the tag cradlesona! she has a guide to made your own, it was really fun 💖💖 you can search of what other people has done too 💕

#this came out so much longer that i thought #but so much fun #i feel a little bit of shame on the self projection xD

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twodaysintojune · 5 years

Text

The Apple Pie Spell 3

Supernatural, Debriel, Warnings-None

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Find me at AO3

Gabriel was sitting on a chair, looking at Dean’s resting body. He had felt something move in the spell with each kiss Dean had received, it had acknowledged the feelings of each of them but in the end it hadn’t budge. It was a powerful spell after all. He was actually surprised Cas hadn’t felt it’s original source at all, probably because he was not used to Fae energy. But something was missing in the puzzle and he was still unsure of exactly what.

Despite Gabriel’s best intentions, Sam had postponed the search for candidates to kiss Dean up until the next day and had gone to lock himself up in his room but not before asking Cas to join him for a quick talk in private.

Gabriel only guessed what that talk could be about. Seeing how strong the tension was from Sam towards Cas he just hoped the Winchester had gathered some courage to finally confess after seeing how close he had been of losing his chance with the Magpie.

Which led him to his own current situation. Because seeing Cas lean over to kiss Dean had been pretty arousing for a hot second before he felt a sharp pang of jealousy towards his brother go through him, damn, he could even bet his ass Cas had been able to feel it.

But why?

Why was he suddenly jealous when he saw Castiel about to kiss Dean? Gabriel tried his best to remember the last time he ever had this kind of feeling, probably centuries ago with Kali. And it had gone the exact same way. He had been fooling around with her saying it was nothing serious until she suddenly started to date that Hindu god what's-his-name and he had felt like everything was out of sorts until he came out clean to her.

However, unlike with Kali, he had never gotten intimate with Dean. I mean, yeah, there was that one kiss from some time ago but that one didn’t really count, he had just been impulsive for Father’s sake. They were friends, bros, besties. You know, all that shit. They spent an insanely stupid amount of time watching Dr. Sexy reruns and porn and liked to go out and have burgers and beer and laugh and play and fight and do all of that fun and stupid stuff you do with someone you trust.

Someone you love.

Aw shit, Gabriel was knee deep in fucking trouble. He wasn’t even able to hide his blush when he realized the reason that even though Dean had been showed loyal, familiar and revered love, none of it would have been enough. Because this was a Fae spell and the Fae never did their stuff half assed and if there was a tiny sliver of hope that Dean Winchester actually had someone that would love him for who he was and have him as their partner, the spell would only work with that person alone.

Gabriel slowly approached and leaned towards Dean while having all these thoughts, trembling, afraid that his love would not be enough to wake him up. He stopped inches away from Dean’s face. He knew his friend was hot but now Gabriel found him downright handsome and why were things so difficult now? He stopped his anxious thoughts and dived in, joining their lips together with a rushed breath. Father his lips were still the best thing he had ever felt.

Dean woke up to see Gabriel sitting nonchalantly by his side.

“Gabriel?”

Dean made a go to sit yawning, subconsciously, he touched his lips briefly. There was something important he had to notice but before he could pin it out he was distracted by his friend.

“Sup, Dean-o. How’re you feeling?”

“Man, I feel like I got the best nap of my entire life.” Gabriel chuckled nervously. “Dude, you ok? You look pretty wrecked.”

Gabriel opened his eyes wide.

“Me? Hahaha no, not really. I just need to lay down. It was a weird ass day. Maybe you should also rest a bit more, considering you were under a spell and all.”

“Spell?” Dean was still trying to fully wake up. “What do you mean by…” his eyes suddenly lit in realization “The pie”

Gabriel gave him a soft grin and proceeded to explain him all that had happened while he was out. Dean frowned when Gabriel told him of the kiss Cas and Jack had given him with a clear accusatory look that the archangel just laughed aside, he also thoughtfully forgot to tell Dean about the kiss his brother had delivered.

“So you decided you needed to have your fun before using your mojo to lift the spell.”

“Hey, wouldn’t you have done the same in my place?” Gabriel asked shrugging his shoulders “Besides, nobody got hurt this time.”

“Yeah, just because all my lights were out but I would definitely have made a stand against it.”

“I get it tiger, next time I’ll come save you straight out, no detours taken. Should I wear the full Prince Charming attire or just a cape is alright?”

Dean chuckled while receiving the cold beer Gabriel produced out of nowhere.

“How about you stick around and help us avoid this kind of stuff from the start.”

“Heh… If only I could do that...”

Dean looked at Gabriel and tensed up, he was looking aside wistfully in a manner very unlike his usual behaviour.

“Dude, it’s alright, it was a joke. We know you’ve got responsibilities, Heaven needs you more than we do.”

“Yeah… I just wish they didn’t...” Gabriel chuckled bitterly “You know, it’s really funny… All these years, all I ever wanted was to go back home and be needed and now that I have it I… It’s… That place… It’s no longer home.”

Gabriel barely threw the words out of his mouth before a knot forced him to stop. It was the first time Gabriel had dropped all pretense towards himself. He was no longer able to avoid the truth. Tears were forming on his eyes and before he was able to understand what was going on, Dean was pulling him towards a kind embrace.

“Hey, it’s alright. I bet you’ll find a place to call home.”

Gabriel threw his arms around Dean and hugged him as hard as the hunter could take without it being too much. He felt his core cracking a little when he realized that once more he was far from where he really wanted to be. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to stay here.

“Home...”

#debriel #dean winchester #Dean Winchester is a Disney Princess #gabriel #gabriel supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #fanfiction

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brerediddy · 5 years

Text

more than survive - chapter 16

The entire afternoon was spent with notebooks strewn across the bedroom and laptops open with reckless abandon. Michael was lying on his stomach, pondering his phone screen with his eyebrows creased and his head aching. Jeremy was resting his neck on the small of Michael’s back, eyes closed and heart racing.

“Are we still against running away?” Jeremy sighed in exaggeration.

“Still going to be a solid no on that one, dude. We can figure this out. Look, I have a plan. Or maybe it’s more like half of a plan, but it’s coming along.”

Jeremy sat up, leaning forward to examine Michael’s notes. “What are you thinking?”

“So, I asked the fanpage for help-”

“The what?”

Michael looked at him as if he was maybe a little dumb and said, “Jeremy, did you forget that I made a whole-ass fanpage for you?”

Jeremy felt his cheeks heating up. Oh. That. “No, I didn’t forget, I guess I just. Just blocked it out, or something.”

“What, are you embarrassed?” Michael said with a teasing edge to his voice. He loved to egg the other boy on and see how cute he was when he got flustered.

“No, it’s just...I have fans. That’s a little scary.”

“Well, don’t get too cocky. They aren’t Jeremy Heere fans, they’re Spider-Man fans. They don’t even know you exist, dude.”

“And that’s the way it should be,” he responded with a small laugh. “Anyway. What was your point?”

“My point?” Michael had forgotten entirely. He turned onto his back and propped his head up on his crossed arms. “Oh, right. The plan. I asked the fanpage for help tracking down information on the SQUIP. I thought that three-thousand minds would be better than two.”

“There are three-thousand fans? Are you shitting me, Michael?” Jeremy put his head in his hands. “So those are all the people I’m in danger of letting down?”

“It doesn’t matter because you aren’t going to.” Michael reached up to pull Jeremy’s hands down from his face and held them gently in his own. “Hey, when I said I believed in you, I meant it. You got this. We’re going to fix this together.”

The smaller boy let out a breath and shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Whatever you say.” He leant down for a quick kiss, which Michael happily obliged.

After they broke apart, he went on to explain his plan once more. Michael sat up to level himself with Jeremy. “So the fans were able to track down this guy named Sebastian Iscariot. Apparently, he was a scientist who used to work for the SQUIP. He went rogue a while back and he’s been trying to get some sort of message out, but the SQUIP keeps blocking him somehow.”

“Sebastian Iscariot? Were you able to find him?” Jeremy asked with great intrigue.

“I tracked him down. I sent him an email but I haven’t heard back yet. I asked him what he knew about the SQUIP and the pill he was interested in developing.”

“So, what now? We just have to wait and see if he responds?” Jeremy wasn’t especially fond of the concept of sitting around and doing nothing while the SQUIP was out wreaking havoc.

“I don't know what else we can do. I mean, if this Sebastian guy is devoted to getting his message out, I’m sure we’ll hear from him.” Michael cleared his throat and added, “Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out there without knowing what the SQUIP really wants.”

“Maybe I could distract him. Keep him occupied, y’know?” His blue eyes lit up and the prospect of actually doing something and he began to ramble. “What if I caught up to him and used myself as a block? He’d have to get through me before he could even begin to worry about the pills.”

The bigger boy shook his head. “No, Jeremy, listen,” he begged. “Do you hear yourself? You just want to go up against the SQUIP as a simple distraction? Not as an end to this fight?”

“Whatever I have to do to give you more time to figure this out.”

“No, Jere. No.�� Michael let out a long breath and met Jeremy’s eyes. “I’m not letting you fight him again without a plan. He almost killed you. You could be dead right now.”

“But I’m not—”

“He almost killed you, Jeremy. Do you understand? I can’t lose you. I can’t.” Michael took off his glasses to rub at his eyes for a moment. “If you insist on confronting him with some impulsive vigilante action, that isn’t going to work. We need to be smart about this.”

Jeremy sighed. He knew Michael was right, as much as it pained him to admit it. He was itching for a fight, itching for this to be over. But it was true that if he just started throwing punches, that wouldn’t solve anything. They had to have a plan.

He needed to stop being an impulsive teenager and start acting like a superhero.

“Sorry. You’re right,” he amended, taking Michael’s hand in his own. “You’re so smart. If I had let you in sooner, you could have solved all of this by now.”

“I doubt that but I’ll take the compliment,” the other boy grinned, pressing a small kiss against Jeremy’s pale cheek. “I know you’re anxious. We just need to wait on this final puzzle piece before making our move, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded. Jeremy ran his free hand through his hair and said, “Michael?” At his best friend’s hum of acknowledgement, he said, “Thank you for helping me.”

“I’d do anything for you, you know that,” Michael said sincerely. The sweetness in his voice made Jeremy’s stomach do aerobatics.

In the middle of the moment, Michael’s laptop produced a ding! Both of the boys stalled completely to look over.

“Do you think that’s—”

“It could be,” Michael said, fumbling to put on his glasses and open his email at the same time. His eyes scanned the page frantically. “It’s him. He wants to Skype and gave me his username. Says he can’t risk sending anything over email.”

“Oh my god, call him, call him,” Jeremy spoke.

“On it,” Michael responded. He was already frantically typing the scientist’s information into his computer. A moment later, the line was ringing. Jeremy and Michael arranged themselves into a respectable seating position, with their legs folded underneath them. The line rang and rang and rang and then:

A man picked up. The first notable feature was his wild blonde hair, wisps sticking up all over the place. He had bright green eyes and laugh lines, but the dark lighting of his room made both of those things seem much more sinister than they were. He was younger than Jeremy had been expecting. However, maybe that was just the fault of pop-culture for instilling a very different idea of “mad scientist” into his brain. Sebastian was wearing a gray sweatshirt and held onto a file folder in front of the webcam.

“Mr. Iscariot?” Michael ventured, looking for a response.

“Mr. Mell, nice to meet you. Prove to me you aren’t working with the SQUIP,” the man responded instantly. He didn’t blink.

“Um,” Michael said.

Jeremy cut in, “I’m Jeremy, sir. I recently...crossed paths with the SQUIP. He tried to drown me.” He could almost feel Michael stiffen at the mention of the incident. However, it seemed to appease Sebastian. He studied the two closely for another moment before his posture relaxed ever-so-slightly.

“Why?”

“Um,” Jeremy began uncertainty. “I’ve been...in his way, recently. I took one of the pills.”

“You took one?” Sebastian’s eyebrows raised towards his forehead. “And you’re okay?”

“Apparently,” he shrugged. He looked to Michael, who was eyeing him with suspicion.

“Why wouldn’t he be okay? What’s the pill for?” Michael prompted.

Sebastian licked his lips, eyes shifting to each corner of the room. “I started working for the SQUIP years ago. He needed my help in developing a completely new technology. He said it would change the way the world works. I-I didn’t know any better at the time. I was young, I had just gotten my first job in a lab. I thought I should just do what he wanted.”

“What did he want?” Jeremy asked. He chewed on his lower lip nervously.

“He wanted something akin to, well, mind control.”

Jeremy sucked in a deep breath and Michael’s brown eyes widened. “What do you mean, mind control?” Michael asked.

“The SQUIP wanted to put a piece of himself in this pill, part of his being. We used a bit of his DNA and supplemented with some of his cognitive processes. The other part of the pill was a neurotransmitter. Something to send and receive messages.”

“The SQUIP had you build a mind control device and you just went with it?” Jeremy asked indignantly. His hands turned to fists out of view of the webcam, his eyes narrowing at the man.

“I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. Around the time that he started bringing in test subjects, I backed out. I couldn’t do it anymore. We never perfected the technology, though. I never helped him finish it.”

“But I did,” Jeremy mumbled, unfurling his fists. He could scream. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid. “I helped him with his tests. I was his willing subject.”

“What are you talking about, boy?” Sebastian asked, his green eyes darkening.

“I’m Spider-Man,” he blurted out. Michael pawed at Jeremy’s hand, trying to warn him to stop, but he didn’t. “He was blackmailing me and he had me work with him. He would make me show him how my powers worked and how much I could do. Then, he made me take a pill. He said I would be his test subject. Nothing happened, though, and I think that’s what pissed him off. After that, he tried to kill me.”

Sebastian tilted his head, analyzing Jeremy through the screen. It was uncomfortable. It felt all too vulnerable. Then, he spoke. “Good.”

“Excuse me?” Michael questioned with an edge in his voice.

“If I had to guess, I’d say he knew his mind control doesn’t work on you because of your powers. I imagine that’s why he was so interested in learning about you, so he could figure out how to beat you. But it still didn’t work, even when he updated the technology and made you try it. He wouldn’t have been so invested in getting rid of you if he didn’t think you were a threat.”

“I guess that makes sense. If he could get rid of me, then it wouldn’t matter whether or not the pill worked on me.”

“Precisely.” Sebastian squared his shoulders and said, “I’d wager that he was hoping to turn you into a soldier for him. Someone as powerful as you, under his command? He’d really be unstoppable. When that didn’t work, he had to figure out a new plan.”

Jeremy swallowed. He could have been turned into some mindless drone. He shook away the thoughts and inquired, “So, what do you think his plan is?”

“Oh, I know what his plan is. It’s been his plan from the start,” Sebastian said darkly. “I was just too stupid to see it. He wants to distribute the pills as some kind of supplement. Control the masses. Then, he can control the city.”

Jeremy countered with, “Who would be stupid enough to fall for that?”

“Oh shit,” said Michael, having worked it out for himself. He stood up quickly and ran to his desk, rummaging through the stacks of paper on top of it. He found a newspaper from the day before and held it up, flipping through the pages quickly. “Shit.”

“What is it, Mr. Mell?” Sebastian intoned.

“Here, right here,” he pointed out the article to Jeremy. “Some hot-shot doctor is offering a free sample of a new vitamin. He swears by it, says it improved his life. He personally vouches for it and...so does the FDA? They’re working on pushing it through the necessary trials. Why would they do that, if they know it’s not a vitamin?”

Jeremy raised a brow and said, “The SQUIP’s threatening them, I’ll bet.”

“A bunch of federal employees are scared of one guy?”

“He can be very...convincing,” the smaller boy said, the words caught in his throat. Michael noticed and rested a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Where is this free vitamin being distributed?” Sebastian asked.

“Town Hall Center. During the Inventor’s Expo,” Michael read aloud. “Holy shit, it’s happening this afternoon. They’re unveiling the pill at the end. All of New Jersey will be there.”

Sebastian sighed. “Looks like Spider-Man will be, too.”

Jeremy nodded. “Thanks for all of your help, Mr. Iscariot. I’ll put an end to this.”

“I know you will. It’s too bad that you’re a kid, though. God, I thought Spider-Man would be an adult.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael quipped.

“This shouldn't fall on your shoulders. I’m sorry it does, Jeremy,” Sebastian mused. “You’re a much braver man than I was back then.”

“Thank you, Mr. Iscariot.” Jeremy gave a solemn nod.

The call ended and Michael turned to Jeremy. He wrapped his arms around the lanky boy, burying his face in his neck. “God, Jeremy,” he breathed. “I can’t believe this is your life.”

“Me neither,” he said softly. He squeezed Michael a little tighter and added, “Guess I better go suit up. I need to take this guy down before the Expo is over.”

They broke apart and Michael perked up. “Jere, what if your plan earlier was actually on the right track? The whole distraction technique?”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, tilting his head in the way that the other boy found adorable.

“What if you distract him long enough for me to get a message out?”

“Are you talking about the fanpage?”

Michael nodded enigmatically. “If I can warn three-thousand people and tell them to pass it on, we may have less of a problem than we thought.”

“You’re a genius,” Jeremy complimented before kissing him. “You do that. Make sure no one takes the pill. I’ll take care of the SQUIP.” He turned on his heel to leave but Michael caught his arm easily.

“Be careful, please,” he requested, a tinge of sadness to his voice. “I want to see you in one piece when this is all over.”

“Of course,” Jeremy promised. “Anything for you.”

One kiss later, he was suited up and heading for Town Hall Center.

#meremy hell #boyf riends #bmc #be more chill #bmc spiderman au #my post #my writing

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sinnabunwritestuffs · 6 years

Text

Chapter I: Not Just an Impulse?

Roughly a month after the spark of the riots in Illuskan, a human kingdom in the northwest corner of Fae’run, our questers find themselves within the capital city of Kelteroth. A fighter, a rogue, a bard, and a druid sit on the wooden crates of a shadow-soaked alleyway, the borderlands between the Sun and Moon Quarters of the city. Resting their guard in an opulent region of the city can be risky, but the gang is practiced, and this is an optimal space for pick-pocketing any wealthy idiots who wander too far from the main streets. Otherwise, they plot for their next attack. The fighter talks a lot, and quite heatedly, but says little as to a next move. The rogue sits quietly, along with the druid, but both are pensive in very different ways. The bard is strumming a lute, carefree and smiling. Business has been slow, so what better time to take a break from their weekly share of murders?

“We can’t stop now, we’ve been doing so well…!” Marchaion sprang up from his crate, unfocused energy compelling him to start pacing and fiddle with his knives. His hair shook around his dark horns.

Mival, completely oblivious to his violent edge, responded calmly, still toying around with chords. “We have enough coins to last as weeks. I think we can spare one day off to do whatever we want. It’d be good for us.”

“Personally, I want to go on a killing spree,” muttered Rolen. The blades in his hands bounced what little light there was off of each other as he shot a threatening glare at the human.

Mival ignored him and kept up with his idle ideals. “Besides, we had a chance to empty that one guy’s pockets, but you kind of let it slip, so-” His words were abruptly cut off by the sound of a knife slamming into the cobblestone alley wall, making everyone, even Rolen, jump.

Marchaion’s voice was menacing, even more aggressive than usual. “I’ll get him next time,” he promised. “Watch me.” His curly ginger hair had fallen in front of his eyes, but from the voice that emerged from the tiefling, everyone could guess what kind of expression he was wearing.

The tension did not exactly break as everyone looked away awkwardly, returning to the things they had been doing to pass time. Mival tucked his lute away and started digging around his pockets, trying to look busy in case the tiefling fighter decided to take a burst of rage out on him. All of them had grown accustomed to Jozenil Marchaion’s bloodlust, but although the air around them was heavy with silence, the notion that they were all, indeed, working with someone who had ended more lives than he could count was creeping into their minds; funny that they needed a reminder. To contrast the druid and the bard’s concern, however, Rolen took the idea with significant admiration, and he found his eyes flitting between the tiefling and the spot where the knife had struck the wall, his gloved hands still busy sharpening both of his daggers.

Mival found what he was looking for and popped out a pan flute (which had been strapped to the back of his belt all along), and began to play. Unfortunately, his musical prowess did not happen to reach the field of pan flutes, and this was brought to his attention when the rogue plucked the instrument out of his hands and snapped it in half.

“Hey, what the-” The human frowned in mock annoyance, but shut up as soon as he caught the sound of blades being sharpened. He glanced down to see the edges of Rolen’s daggers aimed in his direction.

Syllin caught onto something in the air, and the young druid’s head perked up suddenly. No one minded him. Why should they?

In any case, he looked down just as quickly, and just as silently. He began to nervously fiddle with his clothes, hoping that nobody else would catch on to-

“Damn… I bet we could get a good fill from those two.”

Marchaion’s face was lit up with anticipation, his tone secretive yet excited. At the mention of a potential crime opportunity, Rolen and Mival turned their heads to the far end of the alleyway, where a couple of passerby were consulting a map and bickering.

One was a dwarf, on the taller end for her race. Her hair was slightly reddish, pulled back into a hasty bun. A heavy backpack was strapped onto her back, and she wore no armor, which certainly drew her out from many of the other dwarves in the city.

The other, leaning down a bit, seemed like a half-blood, mixing the distinctive features of an elf and a human between fair skin, sky blue eyes, and disheveled sandy hair. He wore a cloak; and though worn and dirty, it displayed a royal crest.

“Tourists,” remarked Mival dismissively, trying to mend his broken pan flute. “They don’t seem that rich.”

“Idiot,” chided Rolen. “One of them is a dwarf-”

“So?”

“And the other is wearing the clothes of a noble!” finished Marchaion, before the dark elf with the daggers could reprimand the bard for his stupidity. He licked his lips. “They’ve got to be worth a good price.”

The tiefling turned to face Mival. “Go up to them and banter a little. Ask if they need directions or something. See if you can get them distracted; if they’re tough to crack, you know what to do. Just make sure their guard is down and their attention is on you. Then, Rolen and I will go in for the kill.” He nodded assertively at the human and put a hand on his shoulder, to which the rogue beside him looked away at.

Mival grinned and popped up in a military salute, quite eager to please. “You got it.” And he sped off.

Syllin had been staring at the pair the whole time, tuning out what the rest of the gang was saying. It didn’t matter. It would always end up the same way.

The druid’s hands hadn’t moved from the edges of his tunic. His heart was racing. He always got anxious before a kill, and it never got better, but this time it was worse than before. The meek wood elf never directly participated in any sort of crime, although he was more than willing to help out a member of his party if anyone got hurt. He shivered a bit. Why was he, a relentless pacifist, a part of the most notorious criminal gang in Kelteroth? Why was he condoning this kind of senseless killing? It was a wonder to him how lightly everyone else would take it. Sometimes it felt like he was carrying ten times the guilt that the rest of the party seemed to lack.

Usually, he kept his head down, reminding himself that a better place awaited him the moment he found a moment to escape. But this time, try as he might, he couldn’t turn away from the half-elf’s startled gaze as he discussed something with Mival, the wood elf’s old friend-turned-criminal. Between bouts of panic and senseless thoughts, his eyes flickered to the rooftop behind the passerby, where Rolen was crouched down at the edge, holding a dagger. The scenery tilted a little.

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say you two need directions?” offered the bard with a charming smile. The half-elf, relieved to find a seemingly friendly face amongst a sea of impolite strangers, nodded gratefully. Pushed against a wall, Marchaion crept closer, clutching his longsword.

“I suppose navigating a city is not as easy as navigating a castle,” suggested the half-elf, wearing a small, slightly weary grin.

Mival was taken aback. Even he couldn’t find the sarcasm in this guy’s voice, but he did not think about it too hard, and his smile didn’t waver. “Well, it gets a lot easier once you spend some more time in this fine capital. Where do you need to go?”

Rolen was positioned to jump down; he just needed the signal from Jozenil, and the bloodbath could begin.

The half-elf consulted the map confusedly, but the dwarf offered no commentary. “Ah… I believe that we are looking for…”

A split-second later, Rolen found himself falling through the air, one dagger positioned to hit the top of the dwarf’s skull. Marchaion lunged forward silently, his longsword aimed at the half-elf’s throat.

Four rushed words rang out in that same split-second, all coming from a single source. The passerby looked up to see several sharp weapons aimed at them. Their gasps would have come far too late had it not been for the fact that their attackers were frozen in place; even the dark elf was held suspended in the air.

Mival looked around curiously, though not quite surprised, as the strangers tensed up and froze in fear.

“Syllin, what the hell?”

The druid had his arms raised upwards, one palm aiming at the rogue and the other at the fighter. Before he had the chance to answer for his actions, Marchaion’s voice cut through the spell.

“PUT US DOWN, WE HAVE PEOPLE TO KILL AND COINS TO STEAL!”

“Uhh…” Syllin hesitated. He had never found it in his best interests to disobey a direct order, but he kept his arms raised.

Mival didn’t appear angry (granted, it was probably impossible for him to be), which the wood elf was grateful for. Instead, the bard had a confused eyebrow raised. “Do you know these two?” he asked, gesturing towards the stunned passerby.

Syllin’s palms started to sweat as he fumbled to find the right words. He ended up with a feeble, “N-no…”

Marchaion’s yelling rang out again. “THEN LET US KILL THEM, YOU ASS!”

Even though the tiefling was facing away from him, the druid was still properly intimidated. Why weren’t the passerby running away? He needed to buy more time, and quickly, because he was already beginning to feel the strain of having to hold two people at once.

“Um… just don’t kill them,” he started, his voice shaking. It did occur to him that his actions were completely unfounded, and there was no good argument (besides, perhaps, the fact that he didn’t want another two dead bodies to add to the pile). The spell was beginning to waver.

The dark elf’s voice snapped through. “Syllin, if you don’t let us go-”

In the midst of a brewing panic attack, Syllin finally found the words. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to kill them.”

“EXCUSE ME!?” screeched the fighter. “YOU LITTLE SHIT! LET US GO RIGHT NOW!” His volume was now even more forceful and commanding, pounding against the spell’s walls, straining the connection. The druid prayed that he didn’t notice.

Mival, bless his soul, decided to take his old friend’s side even though he was unsure why. “I think you’d better listen to him,” he said. “His spells can last for hours.”

This was a wicked lie, but Syllin was grateful anyway. Neither he nor the human noticed, of course, when Rolen and Marchaion shared a moment’s gaze, a silent debate over their druid’s proposal. Though no words were exchanged, it was clear to both of them that they were acknowledging of the debt that they owed the healer .

Through gritted teeth, the tiefling finally mumbled, “Fine,”noticeably pissed at seeing himself bow down to the will of some weakling.

Syllin should have been more wary of trusting either assassin, but he was too exhausted to think twice. He lowered the rogue to the ground next to the dwarf, simultaneously relaxing his grip on the fighter.

Marchaion stumbled forward. Fortunately, he braced himself by using his longsword like a cane, versus the way it was intended to be used - piercing right through the half-elf. Miraculously, both he and Rolen kept their word, and didn’t attempt to stab nor even threaten the travelers, at least immediately. The wood elf finally let himself lean back on the wall, dropping his arms and panting for breath.

Marchaion faced the half-elf, a scowl on his face. “Alright, we spared your life. Now give me one good reason why we should keep it that way.”

The half-elf gulped, still rather petrified at the sight of the towering tiefling, who must have been well over six feet tall, and stumbled for a response.

“I… umm…” Technically speaking, the young noble was not accustomed to nearly losing his life, though it had been happening far more often than was preferable lately. Somehow, he had managed to evade death each time without a scratch; physically, that is.

The tiefling’s glare intensified, and the half-elf found his mind growing increasingly blank. The criminal’s electrifying blue eyes bore into him threateningly, as if trying to measure the best way to tear him apart. They were almost like blue diamonds, or a chunk of lapis lazuli, but instead of giving off a mystical aura, they radiated fierce aggressiveness. Suddenly, the half-elf felt a pull on his robes, and was grateful for an excuse to glance away.

The dwarf looked at him, despite the circumstances, in exasperation. “Remind him who ye are.”

When the tiefling narrowed his eyes at the dwarf, she shied away and tucked herself behind her companion.

Meanwhile, the half-elf faced the criminal. He was not so set on following the dwarf’s advice - his background was not his favorite topic of discussion - but he feigned confidence as he tried not to flinch while looking at those deep blue eyes.

“I am Raymladon Windrivver, Prince of Illuskan,” he declared with a self-righteous grin.

He was not sure what kind of reaction he was expecting, but the tiefling’s harsh laugh definitely wasn’t it.

“Prince? Well I know for a fact you’re not from Greatstone Keep,” scoffed Marchaion, poking sharply at the foreign crest on the half-elf’s cloak. “You think that just because you were raised in some noble palace, and just because your mummy and daddy were rich, that entitles you to my respect? So where’s that castle of yours, fancy man?”

Raymladon stifled a sigh. “Former Prince of Illuskan.” He heard a muffled groan from the dwarf beside him, but decided not to turn.

The tiefling burst into laughter.

“All the more reason to kill you and steal your money,” muttered a voice behind. Raymladon shifted his gaze to the dark elf who was leaning against his wall, spinning a dagger in his hand.

The dagger he would have killed us with, thought the half-elf with a shiver. The dark elf’s dark hair and hood covered his forehead and half of his face, but did nothing to hide his wicked grin. How many other people had he killed with that dagger?

Mival was staring back and forth between the assassins and the newcomers, occasionally stealing a glance at Syllin. The bard wished he had a snack as he sat on an empty crate to watch the show.

The tiefling drew his longsword out and jumped back, so he could aim his blade at the ridiculed half-elf’s chest. “If you really want to earn the world’s approval, if you want to survive…” His voice picked up a sudden edge and he lost his smile. “... you fight your way up. And if you can’t find the courage to kill…” At this point he paused to sneak a look at Syllin. “... you die. It’s simple.”

Raymladon glanced away to avoid meeting the tiefling’s eyes, quite unsure of what to make of his little speech but really not liking the sight of his longsword’s tip pointed at his heart. He was afraid to move. Luckily, the criminal withdrew his sword and tucked it into a scabbard on his back. He recovered his grin and stuck his hand out. Warily, the half-elf accepted the handshake.

“Marchaion,” stated the tiefling.

“Marchaion?” The question was out of Raymladon’s mouth before he could stop himself, but it really did sound more like a surname over anything.

“Jozenil Marchaion,” clarified Jozenil Marchaion, catching onto Raymladon’s confusion. “Champion Fighter of the army.”

Behind the half-elf, the dwarf bit back a sharp rebuttal. Champion Fighter, my ass. Why in the world was he living the life of a criminal on the streets. She said nothing of the sort, however, because pointing it out would probably be suicide.

Raymladon nodded sheepishly and cleared his throat, gesturing to his companion. “This is Bardryd Gorunn. She is a wizard.” At the mention of being recognized, the dwarf’s face lit up with pride.

The fighter did not particularly care for the dwarf’s name, but he gave a slight nod as he thought of something amusing. “And do you have a class?”

The half-elf hesitated. He had been wondering that himself, for a while now, but who was to say that this assassin had to know about-

“He’s a sorcerer,” answered Bardryd. Well, then.

Behind Jozenil, Rolen must have caught onto the same thing as the tiefling because he let out a sharp laugh.

Marchaion feigned thoughtfulness for a moment as he looked in Syllin’s general direction. “I see. Both magic users.” He turned back to face his would-be victims. “And yet you still needed the help of a mere healer, who has never seen the battlefield, to survive. Without him your bodies would just be another statistic. You should be ashamed.” His laugh was mocking, and Raymladon’s face and ears became warm as his pride was swept away.

Syllin caught the jest as well, and looked at the floor, his hands busy with his tunic again.

“Well…” The tiefling turned around suddenly, carelessly swinging around his sword. “It was… interesting to meet you, Raymladon.”

Bardryd could no longer hold back. “That’s Prince Raymladon to ye.”

Faster than anyone could blink, Marchaion had a knife pressed against the dwarf’s throat. “I call him what I want, Fatty.”

He withdrew the knife after letting it linger for a moment, and his tone returned to casually nonchalant in a matter of seconds.

“Anyhow, you’d best be on your way before I change my mind.” A violent glint flashed across his dark eyes. “I hope you realize how quickly that can happen.”

Rolen had taken the time to make his way to a spot next to the tiefling, and now held two freshly sharpened daggers in his hands. His gaze was sketchy and investigative, eyes focused on the sorcerer. Suffice to say it, Mival was staring at him, too, although it was difficult to imagine what a glare from him might look like.

Raymladon got the hint and turned down the alleyway, where the wood elf still had his gaze locked on the floor.

“That’s the wrong way,” said Bardryd in a guarded tone, still glancing at the assassins behind them.

“I know,” agreed the half-elf, but didn’t stop nor slacken his pace, and a moment later, the dwarf followed reluctantly, rolling her eyes.

Syllin had his head bowed down, waiting for the strangers to pass. To his surprise, the half-elf stopped in front of him and offered a smile. His hand was sticking out, and the druid scrambled to stand up, accidentally knocking over a series of crates.

Bardryd gave him a judgemental look, but Raymladon chuckled good-naturedly. Embarrassed, Syllin took his hand. It was rough, with a silver callus inside and out.

“Thank you for saving our lives,” said the sorcerer formally. “You don’t meet a lot of strangers willing to help out around here.”

The wood elf was flustered to the point of speechlessness, and to top it off, now he felt guilty at the half-elf’s praise. He didn’t deserve it. Nevertheless, he gave a slight nod and tried to return the smile.

“I don’t believe I caught your name,” noted Raymladon.

The druid was, by now, accustomed to being bizarrely reserved in social situations, especially when introducing himself, and had accepted it for the most part. But now he was even more nervous, and his mind, which should have been thinking of some clever responses, was completely blank.

“Syllin,” mumbled the wood elf. Neither of the passerby seemed to notice his voice cracking, though from the corner of his eye he could see Bardryd eyeing him in uncertainty.

“Pleasure to meet you, Syllin,” said Raymladon. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

“Hopefully,” answered the druid, looking at the floor. How was it possible to be so casual while meeting someone new?

“We’re never going to see him again,” said the dwarf curtly, running low on patience. She had never found much use for tact, anyway.

The half-elf shushed his companion with a sharp look. He was grateful for Bardryd’s company, but her lack of diplomacy was never easy to tolerate. He gave Syllin an apologetic nod, and walked past him back towards the main street, turning the corner and listening to the dwarf wizard’s hurried footsteps behind him.

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