#I do wonder how Ten and Eleven will interact—and yes I do know it’s coming because it’s impossible to exist on the internet without knowing

[sailforvalinor]

Seeing your post got me thinking. How did you feel about Ten's ending? Especially the fact that he "didn't want to go". That hit me rather hard when I first watched Ten's ending. It was rather unlike Five's for instance where he accepted his fate. I forget in what order I watched it, I think I watched Five's story after, but I digress. I don't know, it felt so human to me, and raw and David Tennant delivered it flawlessly. So I wondered your thoughts on it.

I loved it. I loved it I loved it I loved it. I was a bit too emotional at the time to post anything coherent about it, but…yeah. If it tells you anything, my dad cried—and he’s seen it at least three times before 😂.

Here’s the thing about the “I don’t want to go” line: Series 1 and 2 is a positive character arc for the Doctor. At the beginning of Series 1, he is at his lowest, the Time War having just occurred. He is angry, closed-off, refuses to be “domestic”—i.e., he’s refusing to get attached again. But Rose drags him back into all of that anyway—and this arc is a lot of things, it’s about him rediscovering joy, confronting grief and guilt, but most importantly, he is allowing himself to care again.

But to care is to leave yourself vulnerable to loss, and that’s what happens when he loses Rose—and it’s inarguably devastating for him. His characterization takes a definite shift here, he’s lost a bit of his joy (and even at times when he does express happiness or joy it can feel like a mask, or at least somewhat forced), and he becomes so unwilling to let go—think of the “I can do this, I can do anything” scene where Astrid dies in “Voyage of the Damned.” To me, Series 3 and 4 and the specials are a negative character arc for Ten, though a subtle one, one you don’t realize is occurring until it culminates with the Time Lord Victorious—a slow, agonizing trainwreck. He’s lost so many people by this point—not just his Rose, but Martha, Donna, the Tylers, Mickey, Astrid—and he’s been isolating himself to avoid getting attached again, to avoid hurting anyone else, but when he comes to care for the crew of Bowie Base One and loses them, he snaps. And we all know what happens—he falls for the lure of power, the illusion of control. And he himself falls.

“The End of Time” is the consequence of that fall, and I would argue that the Doctor finds himself much in the same position as he was in at the beginning of Series 1–desperately lonely, but unwilling to get close, so so scared of loss. Though in a very different way, I think Wilf helps Ten relearn the same lesson Rose taught him all those years ago, that he has to care, to try to force himself to be apathetic is so much worse, but Wilf (and the Ood) help give him the second half: he also has to learn to let go. It’s a constant cycle: “you have to love -> you have to lose -> you have to love -> you have to lose,” and Ten finally, finally understands—but as he’s dying. He’s finally grasped the truth, he’s seen the light, but he’s seen it too late. And that’s the tragedy of it. As I watched the specials, I got the sense that he wanted his time to end—it’s never explicit, but you can sense it, he seems tired, makes references to having lived too long. He had all that time he wasted self-isolating and alternately wallowing in despair or trying to force apathy, but it is on his last day, at the sound of four knocks, that he finally realizes that he wants to live. And he can’t.

I think that Matt Smith was an absolutely brilliant casting choice as Eleven, because it would be impossible to not resent any other replacement after that. Smith’s Doctor is just so sweet and goofy and joyful that it’s hard to dislike him for long. Honestly, my personal headcanon is that Eleven is like that because of Eleven, trying to make up for Ten’s lost joy.

Anyway, sorry about the ramble, I had more thoughts about this than I realized.

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

To everyone who has read, liked, and/or reblogged this story... THANK YOU! ❤️

There’s trouble on the horizon...

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Very light physical violence, but otherwise none.

Links to Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, and Fourteen!

Chapter Fifteen

It wasn't long after he departed that your curiousity got the better of you, wanting to see what he was helping this Lord Celebrimbor craft. Once you found and entered the forge, a glorious sight was before your eyes. Halbrand was at the centre of the room, no longer dressed in that azure coloured outfit from earlier. He still wore blue, but this fabric had a grey shade mixed in with it, and was lined in silver beading that matched the metal torc wrapped around his neck, resting on his collar bone. He was also covered in a leather apron and gloves to protect him as he worked, sweat and grime staining his skin where it could be seen. He looked incredible, and you knew this was exactly how he felt when he saw you in your crimson dress.

Halbrand beamed as you entered his vision, and he stopped what he was doing. Grabbing the attention of an elf close by him, he urged them to come over to where you stood. It was the same elf that had been present with Elrond during your emotional arrival in Eregion. "Celebrimbor, meet the love of my life." "I thought smithing was your love." Celebrimbor spoke in jest. The three of you shared a knowing laugh. "Well one cannot make smithing their queen. But I can be its king." "What pray tell are you making, Lord Celebrimbor, that requires the assistance of my love?" The elven smith and Halbrand glanced at each other excitedly. "We have been charged with making something that will save the elves of Middle Earth." Celebrimbor answered you. "Save the elves? What do you mean?" "Their light is fading. This is the only hope they have, my love. Otherwise they shall make for the grey havens and sail to Valinor. Never to return." explained Halbrand. "Does that include Galadriel?" Halbrand nodded gravely. "The object we craft will restore the elves to their full power. Then they can remain here and not dwindle into relics." 

"Forgive us, my lady, but we must return to the task at hand." said Celebrimbor, and you gave a slight nod, then Halbrand kissed your forehead, and you retreated into the shadows of the room to watch them work. You found yourself completely transfixed by what was happening before you. Thoughts of your first meeting with Halbrand appeared in your mind, memories of how easy the small tasks you had given him were, and how he still relished the work despite that. Yet that was nothing compared to this. The focus on his face, the deliberate and concise movements he made with the equipment, his interactions with Celebrimbor and the other elves in the forge. You could sense the feeling in the room, the feeling of vital importance that surrounded their quest to bring forth the saviour of the elves in material form. Hours passed by with you simply content watching your man work. Every now and then he'd shoot you a quick glance from across the room. And each time he looked back to what was in front of him, you noticed a smile on his face. He was very pleased you were witnessing this. You wondered if you were a distraction maybe, but given no one had asked you to leave, you assumed you were right to stay.

Then suddenly, an explosion wrecked the building. You used your arms to shield yourself quickly, but thankfully no major debris was flung in your direction. As the dust and smoke cleared, you and Halbrand ran to each other to be certain the other was unharmed. He clasped his hands over your arms and studied your body furiously. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" "I'm fine, I'm fine. But you?" you asked frantically, more concerned for him. "I'm okay, my love. Celebrimbor?" he called out with worry. "Yes. All good here." the elf spoke between coughs. It was then that Galadriel and Elrond entered the room. "What has happened?" she asked, shocked at the fallout before her. "The mithril is proud." answered Celebrimbor. "It refuses every effort to bond it with lesser ores." Elrond spoke up then. "Tapping into the powers of the Seen and Unseen world seemed to soften the boundaries between the two." Celebrimbor sighed in frustration. His predicament was vexing him, but not Halbrand. You could tell by his face his mind was searching for the answer they needed. "Doesn't make any sense. We used enough pressure to fuse the heavens with the earth. It should have held this time!" The elven smith’s anger was clear. "Patience. This is a journey." Elrond offered his counsel. "Not every step we take will be forward. It may take time." "Time? We don't have time!”

“Perhaps that is enough for today.” Galadriel declared, hoping to cool the temper that had risen within Celebrimbor. “Perhaps we've been pushing ourselves too hard?" Her words were stern. It was then that your love interjected, and you watched the cogs tick over behind his eyes, as the solution finally presented itself to him. "'Pushing ourselves too hard.' Supposing that's the trouble. Supposing we've been using too much force?" "Meaning what?" asked Elrond, unsure what Halbrand meant. Celebrimbor was now putting it together himself. "Meaning that the metals shouldn't be forced to join but more... drawn or coaxed together. Now, if that's true we've been... we've been doing it all inside out!" He laughed in his bewilderment, and Halbrand grinned gleefully. "Quickly." Celebrimbor motioned to his new smithing partner. "Dismantle this. We start again."

You looked to your love, hoping to catch his excited expression at this new approach, but you caught something else entirely. For Halbrand's eyes were not on you then, they were on Galadriel. Following his gaze to her, you watched as an elf handed her a large scroll. You noticed Halbrand turn away back to his work, but you decided then to follow Galadriel, and discover exactly what she had been given. If it had piqued the interest of your king, then it was worthy of yours as well. Based on your earlier conversation, you had hoped that within this scroll there lay the answers to what treachery was plaguing Halbrand and yourself. That had to be it.

Catching up with her on the stairs that lead down and out of the forge, you began your interrogation. "What is that, Galadriel?" The elf however said nothing, only kept walking. Once the bottom of the staircase was reached, she grabbed you by the arm and lead you into a nearby room, closing the door. She then unrolled the parchment, studying it intensely. You saw how her demeanour changed from hopeful to sheer anxiety. "Galadriel... what is that?" you repeated your earlier question, praying she would enlighten you. "Galadriel!" you shouted her name, pressing her. It was then a single tear quickly fell from her eyes, and her fair skinned face turned even paler. She could not look at you as she spoke.

"The line... was broken... Halbrand is not the king of the Southlands." "What?!" you practically yelled the word. "What do you mean?" "The royal line was severed... over a millennia ago..." "That can't be right." you said, not believing a word from her. "Let me see that." You approached her, snatching the scroll from her hands. Unfurling it before your eyes, you followed the royal ancestry of the Southlands, one descendant after another until... there were no more. You threw the parchment on the floor in disgust. "This is a lie. A fabrication. Treason!" you spat these words at your elf friend. She let your name pass her lips, her voice quivering. "It is no lie. These records are precise." Galadriel sighed then, almost in defeat, and finally looked you in the eyes. "Halbrand... is not who I have proclaimed him to be. He is no king."

Your eyes widened in shock at her words, refusing to believe her. "How dare you!" you screamed at her, and pushed her back up against the wall. Looking at Galadriel, you knew who she was, what she meant to you, to Halbrand, yet the anger within you now made you wish you had your dagger to her throat. Halbrand wouldn't lie, not about this. You couldn't believe Galadriel would let herself be deceived by such a falsehood. "You have made a grave error, elf." your voice was sharp, and tinged with the darkness you could no longer keep at bay. "Halbrand is the king of the Southlands. And I am to be his queen. I pray you find another scroll that speaks this truth, because this one is faulty. Something has gone awry." The next words you spoke were wrapped in your malevolence, and they were loud. "Don't you dare betray us!" Your rage was blinding you, but somehow, there was still an inkling within you that told you maybe Galadriel was right. And that you were using your words against her, to convince yourself.

"Release me." the she-elf hissed through gritted teeth. You reluctantly did so after a moment, and Galadriel picked up the discarded lineage before composing herself. "It seems the woman I thought my friend is gone. I could not save her in time." It was bizarre to hear her speak of you this way, to you as if you were not in the room. Suddenly a sharp pain rippled out from your chest. "But what could I have saved... when he already had you." Galadriel let another tear fall, then she took her leave of you, and the pain grew until you were sobbing in agony. You wanted to rip your heart from your chest to make it stop. It was then you realised the pain was not physical, it was mental. Your heart was breaking. Galadriel seemed lost to you. The one and only true being that had been by your side since the moment you met her... had abandoned you. Or rather, it appeared, you had forced her away.

Could she have been right? Because a bigger question crossed your mind then: why would Galadriel lie? Was Halbrand a deceiver? You knew him to be capable of concealing truths, maybe even speaking in double meanings, but to actually lie to you... Your stomach dropped as a realisation hit you. Could this revelation about his heritage have been what he was about to tell you? He had been seconds away from finally revealing all he kept hidden within. Was this it? Or was there something else entirely at play? Regardless, your tears consumed you, the grief of losing a friend taking hold. Suddenly you didn't care anymore. You wanted answers, and you wanted them now.

  Storming out of the room, you took the steps up two at a time, making haste. Reaching the forge, you realised instantly that Halbrand was no longer there, uncertain as to why. However, Celebrimbor was nearby, so you strolled up to him, inquiring as to the whereabouts of your love. "Why he went to fetch Lady Galadriel. There has been another thrilling development." "What's that?" "We have come to the conclusion that, in order to achieve the desired outcome, we cannot stop at one object. For there would be too much power held within it, and that is too great a risk. We shall be forging two rings." "Rings?" you repeated, surprised. All this fuss for two tiny circles of metal. "And they will be great rings of power indeed, unlike any this world has seen." Celebrimbor's eyes were glowing, his joy almost palpable. "Two rings... that will save your people?" you asked sceptically. "Of this, I am certain." His conviction was unwavering, and you smiled at him warmly. If you were no longer to be saved, as Galadriel had said, then you were glad something could be. Deciding not to wait for Halbrand's return, and fearful of what Galadriel was going to confront him with, you bid farewell to Celebrimbor, letting him return to his work. Something in you told you to head for the river, as it seemed a place Galadriel found peaceful, or at least it was a place she felt comfortable with confrontation.

On your way to reach the banks of the Glanduin, the object of your desire appeared. Halbrand was without his smock and gloves now, that gorgeous blue grey outfit on display. It might have been your favourite thing you'd seen him wear thus far. However, there was something off in his demeanour. You knew instantly that something had transpired between him and Galadriel. And since she was not present, you didn't know what to think. "Halbrand, whatever she showed you... it is a fiction." He only smiled at the words you said, before taking you in his arms and bestowing upon you one long kiss. You melted into his touch, like you always had, and always would. When he let his lips part from yours, he spoke low and closely into your ear.

  "Galadriel is right, my love. Although... I am a king... just not the king she thought." "Halbrand, you're not making any sense. Is this what you were going to tell me earlier? About what lies underneath?" "Yes, my love." And as he pulled himself back so his face was in your view, you gasped in horror. His eyes were not his eyes. They were the eyes of the Halbrand you had dreamed about. The one consumed by his darkness. Your love let a small smile appear on his face. "I am the one they call... Sauron."

Tagging: @starlady66 @denzit @chimeracuddles @restless-tides @hikarielizabethbloom @anemarie @coraleethroughthelookingglass @mordorgp 

[whoslaurapalmer]

lulu watches doctor who; a good man goes to war/let’s kill hitler

well those episodes.........happened

-moffat ONCE AGAIN pulling the bait and switch with amy sounding like she's talking about the doctor but really talking about rory -although okay i'm gonna give him the benefit of the doubt for a hot moment here and wonder, does that wind up saying anything, about the person rory is, about the person rory might be becoming, if rory is becoming anything? is rory........like all companions, to some extent, becoming like the doctor, or a being that is, better than the doctor, in a way -the emphasis on taking the name the last centurion again, too, on the doctor making him take up the name as like, a mantle -also, rory being a nurse (also, moffat, do you???? do you even remember rory is a nurse?) -jury is still out on this one for now cats

-well there is also the fact that the ‘good man’ in the title is assumed to be the doctor, when it’s not. the doctor says as much, that he has too many rules to be a good man. the good man is rory, really, right?

-the doctor blowing up the cybermen to make a point!! wahoo ~ -you know what. by the way. it's not that i hate the cybermen but that i........personally find the cybermen the most disconcerting of who villains. they make me the most uncomfortable

- "do not interact with headless monks without divine permission" is, i must admit, just a really fucking hilarious line -of course they were headless!!! did not expect the little like. twisty tie trash bag necks but that was an added horror bonus

-yes it's very clear the thin fat gay married anglican marines will not end well. very clear. this is moffat. i'm exhausted -you don’t even give them names. and then. turn one of them into a headless monk who is never heard from again. wow what a great job.

-oh this is where jenny and vastra and strax come in -wait so strax is just dead now?????? just like that????? damn -he comes back, though. i mean, i guess that’s, before he dies........but he comes back, i guess

-heyyyyy dorium with a head!! i didn't know dorium's head was once attached. -.........where else would it have been, though, now that i think about it. -apparently! i just assumed dorium was always a head

- "those aren't stories, they're true." about people telling stories about the doctor -okay you know what. i think i might actually let moffat go on this one. i do actually like the emphasis on the doctor not only having a history -- not only being able to call in debts across the universe (and dorium saying to pity those he'd call on) -- but that history being acknowledged as dangerous, the doctor being dangerous and knowing themselves to be a sizeable, powerful threat, especially after the things ten did, especially seeing that in eleven -what i don't like is moffat's occasional leaning into 'don't you know who i am' sort of territory bc he did that with ten too and i'm. eh about it. i don't care much for the braggadocious take, i think sometimes it leans as moffat making the doctor proud of or confident in that kind of record because it happens so often, when the doctor is anything but, but i will let it go because i think the overall vibe of it is good, in eleven being the doctor that like. embraces the threat the doctor brings. purposely, inadvertently. not super taking pride in it unless the doctor can use it for themselves, for what the doctor wants -because again eleven's priority over everything else is always always always amy

-the....."big milk thing" line -just like. fucking unnecessary. it's not. at all. i'm like. ugggg -the GOING OUT OF YOUR WAY to sexualize amy from the perception of an infant. you think all babies only look at their mothers in terms of food. like it’s just a low joke. why go for it -especially bc. realistically how much time has baby!melody spent with amy to even have that association with her -but either way!!!!!!!!! amy is more than that!!!!!!!!!!!!

-the doctor -having a cot -the cot. the doctor's cot. -yep that's a thing on the tardis that's a thing the doctor has carried around this whole entire time that was the doctor's that's from gallifrey -:') -THE 'THAT'S THE DOCTOR'S COT!' OF IT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO I EVEN NEED TO KEEP GOING

-me, earlier: so was amy yoinked like.......in the three month gap between impossible astronaut/day of the moon eleven: she must've been taken just before america me: WHEN????? WHEN DID THAT HAVE THE TIME TO HAPPEN. MY GOD BUT WHEN -if we had just seen............something. anything. the hint of a something. to make that possible. plausible. to make me go 'yeah okay i'll dig it instead of just moffat throwing things around.’

-"why would a time lord be a weapon?" "well, they've seen you." "me?" -just, the absolute, abject misery in "me?" -the doctor is aware of it until the doctor is confronted with it and then they're like :( why would you say that :( -it’s different, when someone says what you think of yourself deep down out loud, what you try not to think

-oh i will say i liked the.....implication that time lords Happened from being around the time vortex. i don't know i thought that was fine

-amy knowing that it wasn't necessarily the doctor's fault that melody was yoinked but also being. so upset with him anyway. somebody to be upset at. knowing he doesn't deserve it and then not having anywhere to put it. still being angry -but it also being his fault, definitely. a little. by virtue of being such a threat that this chain of events came to happen. that eleven and the doctor's actions did finally truly once and for all affect amy in a way that's not going to be changed when eleven has done every single thing and every single terrible thing for amy -i love when amy gets to be angry when amy gets to be terrible and selfish (in like. a way that matters more than usual. more than just her regular snappy personality)

-"they're always brave." oh that's gonna hurt when face the raven comes up. mmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMM M M M M

-ohhhh i love eleven being angry at river. i also love eleven being angry. i love love love eleven's anger, when it's not eleven's controlled anger, when it's the doctor of eleven (ish? thereabouts?) long long lifetimes falling apart -"but you carry on the way you are, what might that word come to mean?" yes indeed though -although yes i am aware that too is building up to the day of the doctor in a way.....................regretfully...................

-tadaaaaaaa. the river reveal. -wahoo. (a much less enthusiastic wahoo than earlier) -i mean, it's just........like............................... -i don't like it. i don't think it's needed. i think it just makes things more convoluted instead of like. tying things together -not that doctor who is ever the pinnacle of truly tying things together in a neat lil bow but i feel like it's just. making it more twisty than it needed to be -the, like. having a child raised to kill the doctor. not bad! okay! it's fine! but i'm just like. soooooooo not enthused about river being melody. i'm not. and i never will be. i think it's just another instance of moffat going 'look how clever i can be' without actually doing anything meaningful. it's just. very fucking whatever to me

-so i was like. vaguely vibing with a good man goes to war, it was fine, but like. idk my brain tuned out SO HARD during let's kill hitler -we all know hitler didn't need to be there. we all know it was awkward and uncomfortable as hell and very unnecessary and the plot doesn't even revolve around actually trying to kill hitler at all they could've been in ANY time period and it would've played out exactly the same. -sigh.

-ahhhh here is the crop circle -"you never answer your phone" at all times i am BEGGING for the phone to be martha's little flip phone. martha i miss you martha i hope you're okay

-yes you can very much see the river in mels. -also, mels. - ~i do not like mels~ -i KNOW it's because mels is melody is river etc that she grows up obsessed with the doctor but it's also like.........it takes away from baby!amy and her relationship with the doctor, the friendship amy wanted, how amy grows up, what the doctor meant to amy as a child -and that made me sad. -another companion shoved aside in favor of ~river and the doctor and THEIR shenanigans~ yes i'm being mean but i stand by it -oh, and baby!rory. you sweet summer child

-"i need to weigh myself!" does she? really????? really -just..........the exhaustion of moffat writing women. is bearing down on me in these two

-OH IT'S MORE SHERLOCK-ESQUE SCANS OF ITEMS IN A ROOM TIME, IS IT???????? -no, that i will never let go

-I WILL SAY i do not mind at all this og form of river before she is really river just delightfully doing whatever she wants and killing eleven. like, i did enjoy that.

-"time can be rewritten" makes yet another appearance -"remember kennedy?" YOU COULD'VE MADE THIS ABOUT KENNEDY!!!!!!! -or would that too have been awkward. ugggg idk

-ahhhh the fabled "give me someone i like" scene appears -no eleven you don't like you :') eleven especially :') eleven works so hard to like himself though, i think. i think there were shades of that, of eleven......trying to work harder at it. does not work though :’) -that the first person the tardis picks after eleven is rose my babygirl my beloved rose rose rose :') -i do wish eleven had said something more than just. being guilty. in seeing rose and martha and donna

-you know, it could've worked as like.................instead of bringing back the time lords and giving the doctor a new regeneration cycle like that -when river 'uses her regenerations' to save eleven, they could've like, counted. towards the doctor's. you know?? she'd only used, what, two?? three, max?? -idk i think it was a possible option???????? -i don't know how much i really like it either but i am always looking for 'well if you DIDN'T just bring back gallifrey what ELSE could you have done to solve the regeneration limit problem'

-so all that happened! alright. okay.

-one regret in not going back to my eleven watch earlier is that night terrors looks horrifying and goddamn i could've watched that in october

[kinglazrus]

In Case of Emergency

Chapter 10: Yes, They Can

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Chapter Summary: Danny's fucking dead.

Chapter word count: 1993

—

William's arms were sore. His wrists ached. The last time he performed CPR for any length of time was when he got his first-aid recertification over two years ago. Ever since he became a teacher, he made a habit of getting recertified every three years. That was a long time to have a skill and not need it. William had always hoped he would never need it but was glad to have it just in case. He wished it would have stayed just in case.

That time was coming up again soon, he realized. That precise moment wasn't the best time to remember something like that. Three years, although not such a long time for someone his age, felt much longer when it came to life-saving skills. What if he was doing something wrong? What if he was only making things worse? He didn't know. Danny Fenton might be dying right in front of him, and William didn't know if he was actually helping.

Anthony appeared on the other side of Danny's bed. "Mr. Lancer, let me take over."

William shook his head. Danny said he was fine. He was tired, that was all. What happened? How could William have missed something like this? He kept going over every second of his interaction with Danny in his head, looking for a sign that he ignored in the moment. He saw the baggy clothes, the tired eyes, and the limp. They all concerned him, but nothing hinted toward this.

That did not stop William from silently berating himself. There was more he could have done. He should have insisted that Anthony check him over immediately. It might not have prevented Danny's heart from stopping, but at least then someone would have noticed it right away. How long, William wondered, had Danny been laying here without a heartbeat before they found him?

Some sleep. William had sent off to get some sleep and now... and now...

"Your arms must be getting tired. The ambulance is almost here; someone needs to show them in when they arrive," Anthony said.

Maybe Danny was asleep. William only felt his pulse—or lack of it—for a few seconds. Weren't you supposed to count a full minute? He panicked the second he couldn't find anything, but he was not a medical professional. He could have messed up.

"William!" Anthony's shout jerked William out of his thoughts. His hands paused. Anthony took advantage of that moment of hesitance, coming around to the other side of the bed and shoving William aside. He lowered his head, tilting his ear toward Danny's mouth, and listened for a few seconds.

"Still no breathing." Anthony resumed compressions, sparing William a glance. "The ambulance," he reminded him.

"I can't leave him."

Anthony glanced at William for a second before focusing back on Danny. "Fine. Then don't go. Ella can show the paramedics in."

By William's memory, the closest hospital was Park Medical Centre, a mere ten-minute drive away. A much smaller distance compared to Amity West's forty minutes. It had been eleven minutes since they discovered Danny's condition, and nothing had changed in that time. From his training, William knew this situation called for a portable defibrillator, but the mounted wall-bracket where Casper High's AED was supposed to sit was empty. It had gotten damaged in a ghost attack the previous week and had yet to be replaced. They didn't have the equipment to handle this.

With Anthony taking over CPR, William felt useless. All he could do was watch.

"His parents," William realized after a moment. "We need to contact his parents."

Anthony did not respond, too focused on his task. William stumbled back to Anthony's desk, grabbing the phone. Over the years, he had dialled the Fentons enough time to have their home phone number memorized. It rang four times before going to voicemail. He tried again, getting the same result.

"They aren't answering," William started to dial again.

"I already told Ella to call them," Anthony said.

"But I just—"

"You needed something to do."

That did not make William feel better. He clung to the phone. If Ella had already called them—probably not long after Anthony called for the ambulance—then they were on their way. Professionals were coming. His parents were coming. There was nothing left for William to do.

A total of thirteen minutes after Anthony called 911, the ambulance arrived. Ella led EMTs in, immediately stepping aside so they could rush past her and joining Anthony by Danny's side. William could not resist watching Ella as she took in the scene. Her expression crumpled. A vindictive part of William swelled with satisfaction at her distress, but the feeling was quickly smothered by a wave of guilt. He may have wanted to wipe the smug look from her face, but this was not how he wanted it to happen.

"Are his parents on the way?" William watched as one of the EMTs put a mask on Danny's face and started manually pumping oxygen. The other was cutting away Danny's hoodie, working around Anthony's hands.

"I couldn't get a hold of them." Ella's voice shook.

William dragged a hand down his face. He had been a teacher for nearly thirty years. In all that time, nothing as distressing as this had ever happened. That included all the ghost attacks in recent years.

"Call them again," he said.

Ella nodded and rushed out of the room. By that time, the EMT had finished cutting through Danny's hoodie. Anthony had to pause his compressions so they could pull the fabric aside and expose his chest.

"Oh my god," Anthony whispered.

"What? What is it?" William moved forward.

"Sir!" the EMT who had cut Danny's sweater snapped.

For a second, William thought he was the one being snapped at until Anthony gave his head a sharp shake and returned to his compressions. No one paid any attention to William as he approached. Once he was close enough to see what shocked Anthony, his blood went cold. Bruises, bigger than William's hand, a dark purplish-red, coloured Danny's torso. They were centred around his abdomen.

William had seen those bruises before. They were a different colour, then, tinged green instead of red, and weren't quite as large, but he had seen them.

"Danny?" William whispered.

The EMT pressed his hands to Danny's abdomen. "Rigid."

"What does that mean?"

She spared William a glance. "He has internal bleeding. Either he has a severe injury or he has been bleeding out for a while. We don't have time to defibrillate here. We need to get him to the hospital immediately."

Compressions and oxygen had to stop while the paramedics lifted Danny from the infirmary bed onto the stretcher. The other EMT swung up onto the bed and resumed CPR from there. William followed them out to the front of the school, where the ambulance stood waiting.

"I'm coming with you," he told them.

The other EMT, a man, nodded as he loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. "Get in the passenger seat."

"But..." William kept his eyes on Danny until the ambulance doors closed.

"It's not like in movies. She needs room to work, so you're in the front with me or you're not with us at all," the EMT said.

William had no choice but to agree. The front of the ambulance had a window that looked into the back. Throughout the drive, he was torn between watching Danny in the back and watching the road. He had to turn away when the EMT in the back started using the defibrillator. The sight of Danny's twitching body made his stomach turn.

"Wait, where are we going?" William peered back at the intersection they just passed. Turning there would have taken them straight to Park Medical.

"Amity West."

"But Park Medical Centre—"

"Has a full emergency room. Amity West is the next available hospital."

William clenched his seatbelt in his fist, twisting the fabric. Too far. Amity West was much too far. Beneath the blare of the sirens, he heard the whine of the defibrillator. It went off three times, and each thunk as Danny convulsed wore William down.

"I got a heartbeat!" the EMT cried. William whipped around, staring through the window to the back. She had her head bowed over Danny, cheek near his mouth. She hovered there for a few seconds. "He's breathing!"

The relief he felt at that moment was indescribable. William knew the situation was still dire but seeing Danny's chest rise and fall of its own accord made him feel like everything was going to be okay. They had time, now, to get him to the hospital. Get him into surgery. Amity West had good people. William had only met one of them, but if the doctors there were half as dedicated as Alejo, Danny would be in good hands.

Danny would be fine.

—

"The patient arrived in an ambulance at nine-sixteen a.m. The ambulance was first called for suspected cardiac arrest—confirmed on the scene—and EMTs discovered severe internal bleeding. The EMTs revived the patient's heart through defibrillation en route to the hospital but the patient did not regain consciousness. The pulse remained weak. EMTs suspected the internal bleeding was the cause of the cardiac arrest.

"Upon arriving at the hospital, the patient was taken for emergency surgery. An exploratory laparotomy began with a midline incision. Multiple bleeds were found in the patient's abdomen, along with a foreign substance. Hospital staff contacted the appropriate authorities regarding the foreign substance and the surgery continued. Most of the bleeds appeared to be a result of vessel erosion, likely caused by the foreign substance, while the remaining bleeds were the result of blunt force trauma. The bleeds were repaired with a combination of sutures and heat probing.

"Patient suffered from ventricular fibrillation twice during surgery but defibrillation returned his heart to sinus rhythm. The surgery was successful, and the patient was admitted to the ICU for observation while awaiting a response from the government. His vitals were stable immediately following surgery."

Carmen stops there and goes over the surgical notes again. They are, as they should be, clinical and detailed. She skims the specifics—such as where the bleeds were and what kind of sutures were used—and rereads the broad strokes of the surgery. No new information pops out at her, but she can't help it. She needs to know where—when—something went wrong. It isn't until the third readthrough that she accepts there is nothing to find. The surgery went well, considering the circumstances, and Danny Fenton should have been fine.

Knowing that doesn't do anything to change the last few lines on his chart.

"Patient suffered an electrical storm throughout the morning and into the afternoon. He had multiple episodes of v-fib, triggering another cardiac arrest. The patient could not be revived. Time of death: thirteen-eleven p.m."

Carmen's gaze lingers on that last line before she closes the chart and sets it down on the edge of the sink. She should go home. It's been over twenty hours since she last slept. Lack of sleep can lead to some bad decision-making, like theft in Carmen's case. If anyone asks how she got her hands on Danny Fenton's chart, she can at least claim to have charmed the nurses. She asked them politely, she would say. They were so delighted by her pleasant demeanour that they handed the chart right over. It's complete bullshit, but the most Carmen could get for stealing a dead patient's chart—as long as she did nothing untoward with it—is a slap on the wrist. Stealing said patient's body, however. She can really get in trouble for that.

Carmen's hand hovers over a tray of surgical instruments, fingers flexing.

"Okay, Danny." She picks up a scalpel and turns to the body on the autopsy table. "Let's begin."

—

Next

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part Fourteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,867

Warning: Smut

Previous Parts:  Part One; Part Two; Part Three*; Part Four*; Part Five*; Part Six; Part Seven; Part Eight; Part Nine; Part Ten; Part Eleven; Part Twelve, Part Thirteen

You were surprised to see your father and, just as he leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek and a hug, you pulled away slightly.

‘What are you doing here?’ you asked surprised and your father informed you that he had a meeting in London and was staying until tomorrow. He wanted to surprise you.

As Cillian walked out of his office, he was just as surprised as you were and when your father shook Cillian’s hand, you couldn’t help but cringe knowing where his fingers had been just moments earlier.

‘It’s funny that I run into you both at the same time’ your father said somewhat surprised.

‘Yes, what a coincidence’ Cillian said, clearing his throat before he did while looking rather flustered.

‘I just had to discuss some uni stuff with Cillian’ you said, feeling the need to explain yourself and your father nodded without any suspicions.

‘Well, since you are both here, I was going to ask you whether you wanted to have dinner with me this evening at the hotel’ your father then asked, causing Cillian to look at you as if he was asking you a question.

‘Unless you think it is too inappropriate having dinner with one of your students’ your father then said to Cillian with a slight chuckle.

‘Y/N isn’t really my student John. I am just involved in providing some practical assistance with the upcoming play’ Cillian was quick to explain while your cheeks turned rather red. If he only knew that there were far more inappropriate things that you had done together.

‘7 o’clock then?’ your father asked and both you and Cillian nodded and agreed.

***

An hour after your run in with your father, Cillian called you and asked you what you wanted to do about your father. Cillian was of the opinion that you would have to talk to your father soon about your relationship with each other.

But, you were nowhere near ready to do this and explained to Cillian that he shouldn’t put this onto your plate until after your exams.  By that time, you both would be back in Ireland and you were in better position to deal with this.

Cillian agreed but also suggested that you should keep your distance from each other until your father went back to Ireland the following day.

No sleepover, no kissing and no touching that evening.

***

When you arrived at your father’s hotel for dinner, you were surprised to learn that your father had brought a woman along.

Her name was Melissa and she had beautiful long blonde hair, freckled skin and dark blue eyes. She was in her late thirties and, according to your father, she was single.

‘Uhm alright?’ you giggled, unsure what all of this was about but, when Melissa excused herself and went to the lavatory, you soon learned from your father that he had brought her along to meet Cillian.

‘He’s been single for a while and I have just engaged her for the new play in Dublin’ your father explained and you couldn’t help but swallow harshly.

‘So, you thought you would ambush him with a blind date while you and me watch things unfold?’ you asked almost angrily.

‘Nah, we can leave after we eat and leave them to it’ your father laughed, but you certainly didn’t see the humour in it all.

Just as Melissa returned to the table, Cillian arrived and your father was quick to introduce them to each other before telling Cillian about Melissa’s engagement for the new play.

As usual, Cillian was oblivious about what your father had planned and about the way Melissa looked at him continuously for the first thirty minutes.

Throughout dinner, you all talked without minimal interaction between you and Cillian and this was something you struggled with now that Melissa was there. Cillian was yours and you desperately wanted her to know that.

Your father happily watched the situation unfold as Cillian was eating his dinner and Melissa wouldn’t stop talking to him, about art, music and wine.

You, on the other hand, were getting rather annoyed and shook off your heel beneath the table somewhat sneakily before lifting your foot up, running it across the inside of Cillian’s thigh.

Cillian inhaled sharply as you did and you were pressing slightly against his crotch beneath the table which, luckily, was covered with a large white table cloth.

As you were playfully rubbing against Cillian’s inner thigh and crotch with your foot, Melissa asked your father and Cillian whether they wanted to come for drinks at the hotel bar after dinner.

Your father quickly declined the offer, explaining to her that he had an early flight to catch.

‘Cillian?’ Melissa then asked as he didn’t respond to her question. He was concentrating hard not to groan as you continued to tease him.

‘Uhm, I have an early morning too. Another time maybe’ he barely managed to force out, making you giggle.

‘Well, we could share an Uber back in about ten minutes if you like Cillian?’ you then suggested and Cillian quickly nodded.

Finally, you removed your foot from his crotch and stepped back into your heel before pulling out your phone and ordering the Uber.

It was obvious to you that Melissa was rather disappointed but, nonetheless, she gave Cillian her business card which contained her mobile phone number and email address.

‘If you ever want to have this drink with me, call me’ she winked before getting up and thanking your father for the invitation to dinner.

‘Man, what is wrong with you? Are you back with this woman you were seeing?’ your father then asked Cillian just after Melissa had left.

‘Yes, I am actually’ Cillian then said all while his erection was still straining against his jeans.

‘What woman?’ you then asked and your father explained to you that her name was Y/N also.

‘Hmm I see’ you giggled before also excusing yourself in order to attend the lady’s room before collecting your jackets.

***

‘That was really naughty of you’ Cillian whispered into your ear as his hand was running over your thigh in the back of the Uber just before the driver pulled up in front of your house.

‘Are you coming up for an hour?’ you asked quickly and Cillian couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘What about your roommates?’ Cillian asked.

‘The guys are in Manchester until the weekend and Emma is at work until midnight’ you smirked.

***

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, Cillian pinned you against the wall, telling you again how you misbehaved in the restaurant earlier, getting him all wound up beneath the table right in front of your father.

‘I just didn’t like this woman flirting with you’ you said, biting your lip just before Cillian pressed his lips onto yours for a passionate kiss.

His hand moved down your belly, beneath your dress and then straight on a trajectory to your pussy.

‘No panties?’ Cillian then asked after he pulled his lips away from your mouth while he continued to hold you against the wall.

‘No panties’ you moaned as his fingers skimmed over the smooth area preceding your slit.

‘Naughty girl’ Cillian huffed as his fingers wedged into you, entering your folds, gliding through them towards your entrance. His touch felt good, it was firm, but not forceful.

‘Fuck’ you moaned, wanting him so badly.

‘Open up for me’ Cillian then whispered. His voice was deep and quiet and your heart sped up again.

‘Open your legs Y/N’ he repeated his instruction. Your breath caught at the mention of your name. You loved when he talked to you like this, dirty and dominant.

Cillian pressed his palm up on your thigh, pushing your legs apart since you failed to respond to his verbal instructions.

His fingers slid down into your pussy, filling you. You could feel your body react, your juices soaking his hand. His digits slid in more easily on his second pass and your passage seemed outright slick on the third. He continued to work his finger in and out of you while his cock seemed to rock gently against one of your thighs, hard and aching to spring free. The sensation was wonderful, tingling, igniting sparks inside you. You soon felt your legs open wider, splaying you out to him as you stood there.

‘Fuck, look at you, soaking wet for me’ Cillian grinned just before he picked you up and threw you onto the lounge.

With your back facing him and your chest pressed again the back of the lounge, you leaned forward while, from behind you, Cillian lifted up your dress before unzipping his jeans.

It wasn’t long until you could feel his cock which was now aligned with your entrance. The tip was gliding through your folds, building up to something more intense until, with one loud groan, Cillian shoved the length of his cock inside you unexpectedly.

You yelped at the sudden intrusion and Cillian was thrusting deep inside you, filling and stretching your pussy in a way that, although pleasurable, was very intense.

‘Fuck Cillian’ you moaned loudly before reminding him not come inside you as you had told him earlier that you were late with your shot and therefore not on birth control for the moment.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t’ Cillian groaned as he was thrusting inside you hard and fast, grunting occasionally with effort.

‘Oh god fuck me harder’ you moaned, loving his dominance and the sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.

Cillian brought his hand up to your breasts, pushing your dress and bra down before running his fingers over one of your nipples, twisting it between his fingers, creating another instance of that stinging pleasure that you had already felt between your legs.

You whimpered under his touch and he soon moved his hand down your belly, reaching for the sensitive bundle of nerves above the place where he continued to ram you with his cock. He circled it, increasing the pressure until you felt an explosion of pleasure radiating from his fingers. You felt your body shudder and your channel contract around his cock, gripping him tightly. He groaned again, thrust deeply, and halted before suddenly, pulling out.

You quickly turned around and, just as you did, he started to jerk his cock, aiming for your already open and waiting mouth before filling it with his sweet cum.

Just as the last drop of his warm seed hit your tongue, you heard the door knob turn and, all of a sudden, Emma walked inside the living room.

‘Holy fuck, oh my god’ Emma said, turning around quickly while Cillian pulled up his pants and you wiped your mouth with a tissue.

  Tag List:

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[vina-writes]

Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k] 

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette​, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale! 

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark​ [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?" 

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken​ [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina 

[yourlocalmaraudersbabe]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a Sirius x Reader where she studied with Bill Weasley at Hogwarts and she met Sirius due to the Order's meetings?

“Well then, which law are we breaking first?”

Summary: Coming to an Order meeting late with Bill leaves you seated next to Sirius Black

Warnings: Swearing and puking?

Pairings: Platonic Bill Weasley x Reader and Sirius Black x Reader

A/N: Thanks for sending this in! I hope you like what I did :) I definitely enjoyed writing this so please send in some more requests! I write for most characters in Harry Potter as well as some other shows <3

Word Count: 1304

Reminder that I don’t support jkr. Do not interact if you do.

“Ah sorry we’re late,” Bill spoke promptly to the room as the two of you walked into the dining room of Grimmauld place.

“Not a problem, we were just talking about a few new raising concerns,” Dumbldore cleared his throat.

After knowing Bill since he was a mere eleven years old, you knew he did not feel sorry whatsoever for making a grand entrance. In fact, he spent ten minutes too long at the Burrow getting ready. The words ‘Fashionably late’ rang through your ears in his silvery voice.

A few new faces were present at this particular meeting, or at least ones you haven’t met yet. Bill took a seat at the end of the table, leaving you next to an entirely new face. A gorgeous face indeed.

Scooting in your chair slightly, you met eyes with the crystal grey ones. Not being able to keep contact, you moved to different features of his body: Long black curls that fell to the sides of his face perfectly. Sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could practically pierce you, or anyone else in this room for that matter.

He seemed a bit older, almost showing off his beard as he rubbed the side of his face with a cheeky smile, looking down at the table as if here were a teenage boy.

By now, Dumbledore had continued to speak, the only one recognizing this moment between the two of you was Bill, who was eager enough to shut it down just as quickly as it all happened.

“Oi!” he kicked you under the table.

You sucked in a breath, giving him a quizzical look as he nodded his head toward the white bearded man speaking in the front of the room. You knew it was only right to pay attention to Dumbledore, it was the middle of the wizarding war after all.

Everyone had dispersed from their seats at the table, except you and who you now know as Sirius Black. “So you work with Bill Weasley?” he made conversation awkwardly at first, eventually easing into more playful and meaningful conversation.

To anyone looking at the both of you, they saw how you instantly clicked. Everything you had to say, Sirius was there to listen and vice versa of course.

His low voice was calming enough to put you to sleep if you let it. In fact, over the next few weeks, some nights you did.

You had found an excuse almost everyday to come back to Grimmauld place, when in reality, you really didn't need to. You felt ridiculous coming back to see him as if you were back in Hogwarts, wanting to spend copious amounts of time with your newest crush.

Bill saw right through it though and wasn’t too surprised you had already found yourself someone to see, as you were only in the area for a little bit, soon heading off on Dumbledore’s orders in a couple weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The remaining time you had flown by and you found yourself with a pit in your stomach as you left Sirius for what you’d thought would be the last time. ‘He’s never taken you out on a proper date, it didn’t matter’ you told yourself as you stepped onto the porch, preparing to apparate. You said your goodbyes to everyone else through the door frame. Sirius was of course the last, a gut wrenching feeling of leaving him behind left fresh in your mind.

Dumbledore wanted you back with the Weasley’s for a few days while he worked out a spot for you and Bill to set up camp.

“Ready?” your voice cracked, not meaning for it to.

“Yeah,” Bill laughed. “Are you ready y/n?”

“Mhm, excited to see Molly and the rest of ‘em.”

With two cracks, you and Bill had apparated to the Burrow. “Oh fuck, I’m going to be sick-”

You could barely speak the words warning what you did in the bushes right in front of you. Bill held your hair back as you finished the unpleasant experience. “You alright?” he rubbed your back as you stood up straight, wiping the side of your mouth.

“Uh, might’ve just been a shitty apparition?” you hoped. “I don’t know- there’s a pit in my stomach-”

He cut you off, correcting you. “Heart.”

Your furrowed eyebrows were enough for him to explain yourself. “Y/n,” he laughed, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not blind- nor is anyone in that house. Your heart. A pit in your heart from leavi-”

“Look Weasley, I don’t know where you’re going with this but I wasn’t done talking. I was going to also say I have this feeling of leaving something behind and it's kinda sad, but the feeling of being there also consumed me, y’know?”

“Y/n. You’re falling for Black.”

You stood there, wide eyes, mouth agape. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm, sure you didn’t leave anything back there?” he teased. “Perhaps your lover boy?”

“Oh fuck off Weasley,” you laughed, walking into the Burrow, straight for the bathroom where your toothbrush lay. Those two minutes of brushing your teeth were probably the longest two minutes of your life as you were eager to get back out and see the Weasleys.

Bill leaned against the door frame. “You know I’m right.”

You groaned and with a simple crack, you were back at Grimmauld place with what should be an illegal surge of adrenaline.

Sitting on the porch step was just the one you wanted to see. “Sirius.”

“Y/n?” he questioned, as you sat directly next to him on the concrete. It was pitchblack out, the only source of light being the dim moonlight. “What are you doing here?”

“I um, well I’d like to know that too,” you breathed a shaky breath, laughing nervously. “Guess it was something I did without thinking-”

He cut you off with a sweet tender kiss on the lips, holding the sides of your face. Kissing him back, you found your hands running through his curly locks.

He pulled away breathlessly, laughing his stupid laugh that got you every time. “Did that without thinking too.”

His comment amused the both of you. You were in a bliss until you realized this was like every other interaction between the two of you. “Black, I came here to talk.”

He froze in his spot as if you were about to tell him the world was ending. Siris relaxed as you hugged his arm, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I don’t want this to be a goodbye,” you whispered, hoping it was just loud enough for him to hear you.

“Neither do I,” he spoke.

You could hear the smirk and planning in his voice as you met him with the same energy.

“And what are you gonna do abo-”

“Y/n.”

“Hm?”

“Be my partner?”

“What? Like your partner in crime?” you humored.

“Oh shut it y/l/n,” he laughed along with your quiet chuckle.

“No I know what you mean,” you spoke, voice matching the now calm atmosphere. “And yes.”

The both of you smiled into a kiss.

“Back to the important stuff,” he drew out the final connection of your lips.

“What? The crime?”

“Yes obviously.”

“Well then, which law are we breaking first?”

[rachaelswrites]

Party Time is Over

Noah Schnapp x Gyllenhaal!reader

You and Noah go to a party

Word Count: 2,247

A/N: I got a little carried but I really love this paring so please send in more ideas for them

Warnings: fluff, underage drinking/partying, brief mention of hickeys

You and Noah rarely got time to yourselves, in between his and your dad’s filming schedule. This weekend was the one chance Noah was in town with no work responsibilities and you wanted to surprise him. He thought you were still in London with Jake, but his project finished early and you got home that weekend. You’re really close to Noah’s whole family and especially Chloe, his twin. You asked her for his flight information and met him at the airport Friday night. 

You were both extremely jet lagged and fell asleep as soon as you got into his bed. Chloe of course, saw and posted a picture of the two of you asleep. You and Noah didn’t post about your relationship often but when you did, fans went crazy. 

You woke with one of Noah’s arms around your waist and his other hand occupied with his phone, scrolling through TikTok. “Good morning,” you mumbled while kissing his cheek. 

“How’d you sleep?” 

“Good,” you said sitting up and stretching your arms, “Much better than in London. Try sharing a room with my dad,” 

“I can only imagine,”

“Sometimes I wonder if he stays up all night to make noise and make me miserable on purpose. Because if he is, its working,”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” he replied, setting his phone down. He rolled over and sat so he was now facing you. He grabbed your hands and started pressing kisses to your knuckles, making you giggle, “So. What do you want to do today?” he asked. 

“I dunno. Just spend time with you. Dad has a new project soon so I want to be with you as much as I can,”

“We can stay in and watch movies. Finn told me about some good ones I think you’d like,”

“Ok sounds good,” you kissed him and got up from the bed, “Let me shower real quick and I’ll meet you on the couch,” 

You quickly showered and got ready. You changed into sweatpants and one of your favorite band tees, but as you were leaving Noah’s room, you spotted a hoodie that you wanted to steal. You slipped it on and made your way downstairs. Noah was wrapped in a blanket and was laying on his back. You walked over and laid down next him, placing your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his torso. You looked at him, studying his face. 

“What’s up Y/n? You’re staring at me,”

“Sorry. You’re just really handsome,”

“I look dead. I literally woke up like thirty minutes ago,”

“Still a cutie,” you mumbled. 

“Aww. You two are so cute,” Chloe said from the kitchen. Noah stuck his tongue out at her which she responded with a middle finger. 

You slapped Noah’s chest playfully “Stop bickering and start the movie please,” 

“Fine,” he said going to Netflix, “I know you don’t like watching movies your dad is in, but this one is really good, according to Finn,” 

“No this one is fine. It’s actually my favorite of his,” you watched as he pushed play on Wildlife. You watched a few more movies until you got bored. You stood up from the couch and walked over to the window, “It’s nice out today. We should go out,” you turned and looked at your boyfriend, seeing his expression, “or we can stay if you want. I’m just bored,”

“No, it's fine. I know you have the attention span of a goldfish,”

“Hey! It's not my fault,” 

“I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you,” he said getting up and walking over to you. He hugged you from behind and kissed the side of your neck. 

“Mm hmm. Sure. I love you too,” You turned in his arms and kissed him. 

“I gotta go get ready. I’ll be down soon,” he said, pulling away. 

“M’kay,” you sat back down on the couch and waited. 

After ten minutes, you and him were walking hand and hand down the streets of New York. “Let’s go on the subway,”

“Why? Where are we going babe?” 

“Let’s go to my place. We can find something to do there,”

Noah nodded and you two caught a train and took your seats. You were on the other side of the city so the ride would take a while. Your phone started buzzing in the pocket of your sweatpants, so you fished it out and answered it.

“Hey honey I got a notification that you left Noah’s house and saw that you were moving. I was just wondering what you’re up to,” your dad said. 

“Oh yeah. Just on the subway,” 

“You’re on the subway by yourself? You know I don’t like you going there by yourself,” 

“I’m not by myself Dad, I’m with Noah. He’ll keep me safe. Right Noah?” you asked your boyfriend, he nodded. “He said he would. We’ll be fine,”

“Text me when you get off then,”

“Will do. Bye Dad,” 

“Bye Y/n,” he hung up and you and Noah continued your conversation. 

You got off at your stop and walked the few blocks to the apartment. You opened the door and greeted your dad, who was at the kitchen table reading. 

“Dad we’re going up to my room is that ok?” you asked.

“Yeah just keep the door open and hands to yourselves. I don’t need mini yous crawling around here anytime soon,” 

You rolled your eyes and went to your room, Noah following. You two just sat around lazily watching TV or scrolling through social media. Noah was sitting at your desk when his phone started ringing and he answered it. You were sitting on the floor by your bed and rolled over closer to him. “Hey what’s up man?” he asked. You tried to hear what the other person said but couldn’t make it out, “I would love to but I’m with Y/n today. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again,” he paused to listen to the other person, “I can ask her,” he lowered the phone and looked down at you.

“Do you want to go to a party later. Some of my friends are throwing one and they invited me. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,”

“Are you kidding? Of course I want to go! For the past three weeks I have been stuck in London, spending the whole time in a theater or hotel room with my dad. Do you know how much I miss interacting with people my age!” you said, jumping up

“So is that a yes then?” he asked

“Duh,” you walked towards your closet to pick something out to wear. 

Noah turned back to the phone, “I guess we’ll be there at six,” he hung up and watched you, “What are you doing,” 

“Picking something out. I can’t wear this,” you gestured to your current outfit, “To a party. What do you think about this dress?” you held up a black mini dress, one you could find people wearing in a club, (nothing too revealing otherwise Jake would flip). Noah gave you a thumbs up and you changed in the bathroom. You came back out and looked for your favorite pair of heels. 

“You look good Y/n,” he said. 

You pulled on a pair of silver heels and responded, “Thank you. You do too,” he was wearing black jeans and a blue bomber jacket with a white shirt underneath. You grabbed a denim jacket to throw on over your dress. As you walked downstairs, you yelled to your dad, “We’re going out, I don’t know when we’ll be back,”

“Hang on. Where are you going?”

“To a party,”

“Be safe,” your dad said, pointing a finger at you, “No drugs and no drinking,”

“Ok I promise bye,” you waved to him and shut the door. That promise was not kept for long.

By Eleven, you were surprised you and Noah weren’t blacked out by now. You didn’t plan on drinking but it started with one drink, then two, and then too many more that you lost count. You only realized Chloe was there when she came over and pulled you from Noah. You and him had been dancing in the center of the room. His hands were on your waist and he was kissing all over your neck and collarbone, most likely leaving at least one mark you would find the next morning. 

“Chlo Chlo! What are you doing? M’dancing with Noah,” you slurred. 

“You’ve had too much to drink. Let me call your dad so he can come get you.”

You shook your head and tried to get away but she grabbed your hand, “Y/n come on, where’s your phone?” you pointed to the pocket of your jacket on the floor and she reached over and grabbed it. She saw you had several missed calls from Jake. Her grip on you loosened and you slipped away going to find Noah again. Chloe found you two again but this time you were making out. She separated you two again and led you to the doorway of the apartment you were in. “Your dad is here. Take your phone and jacket,”

She opened the door and walked you down to the lobby where your dad was. “Oh my God. Y/n what the hell?” he said putting his hands on your shoulders, “You smell like alcohol. How much do you drink?” 

“I didn’t drink anything Dad. I told you I wouldn’t,” you said, very clearly intoxicated.

“Y/n,” he warned, “Tell me how much you drank,” 

You started counting on your fingers but once you reached five and kept going, Jake had enough, “Ok I get it. Let’s get you home sweetheart. Can you walk?” 

You shook your head. Even if you could, you didn’t want to. You had discarded your shoes two hours ago but your feet still hurt. “Ok. I’ll carry you then,”  he helped you put your jacket back on and picked you up but was confused when you didn’t have shoes, “Where are your shoes?”

“I dunno,” you mumbled. Luckily, Chloe came back to the lobby with your shoes in hand. 

“She forgot her shoes. Thought she might want them,” 

“Thank you Chloe,” he took the shoes from her and carried you to the car. He set you in the backseat and tried to buckle you in but you kept slapping his hand, “Y/n stop. Let me put your seatbelt on,” 

You stopped attacking him and he got in the driver’s seat and drove back to the apartment.

You managed to walk to the elevator and inside the apartment before collapsing on the couch. “Dad can you get me some water?” 

“Sure,” he said from the kitchen. He filled up a glass and offered it to you. You swallowed it in one big gulp. 

“Do you want to change out of that dress. I can get you some stuff from your room,” 

You nodded and pulled a blanket over you. He came back carrying a t-shirt and shorts and tossed them at you, “Hey c’mon wake up.” 

You groaned and got up and trudged to the bathroom. You changed and walked back out and flopped on the couch. Jake picked up the dress you left on the bathroom floor and headed upstairs to his own room, “Goodnight Y/n, I love you,” but you didn’t hear him because you had already fallen asleep. 

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. The light from the kitchen was hurting your eyes and you felt a weight on your legs. You sat up squinting. You saw your dad using your legs as a laptop stand. Jake noticed, and looked at you, “Good morning sunshine,” he said cheerily. 

You groaned, his voice ringing in your ears, “Shhh. Stop yelling. You’re being too loud,” you whisper-shouted. 

“I'm not even yelling. I’m just talking,” he responded.

“Shhh. I have a headache,” you moved your finger to your lips.

“I figured you would. You partied hard last night. I left you some stuff in the bathroom,” 

You rolled off the couch and made your way to the bathroom. He left you a bottle of Advil and Gatorade. You took the pills and took a drink of Gatorade. You looked at yourself in the mirror and you looked awful. You looked like a train ran over you three times. Your shirt moved and exposed your collarbone. You caught a glance and gasped. There was a huge hickey left by Noah. You had no idea how to hide it from your dad.

You left the bathroom and went into your room, searching for something to use. You spotted the hoodie you stole from Noah the day before and slipped it on. You went into the living room to join your dad. “Why’d you put a jacket on?” he asked.

You shrugged sitting next to him and putting your head on his shoulder, “Just got cold,” 

“It’s not for hiding that giant hickey I hope. Cause I already saw that,” 

You shot up, “What! When?”

“Earlier this morning. I went to see if you were still alive, I saw it,” he explained, “Don’t feel bad. I’ve seen worse,”

“Eww,” you said, smacking his arm, “I didn’t need to hear that,”

“I’m joking. Just next time you go out, don’t get wasted. I love you, but next time Noah can take care of you,”

“Sounds good to me,”

Taglist

@ssebstann @peachyprincessss @emmy-writes-sometimes @teenage-incompetence

[slashyrogue]

I chose the mutual pining square for this @hannibalbingo “Happy Birthday Hannibal” story. 

******

There was one day a year that Hannibal did not interact with Will. 

At all. 

January 20th. Also known as Hannibal’s birthday.

It had taken Will years to figure out why that was and even after he didn’t push. He wasn’t owed an explanation, he knew, and yet every night before the twentieth he’d stretch the day just a bit longer. 

He missed Hannibal when he was gone, even if often he still lingered in quiet areas of the house on some of his birthdays. 

Will told himself that it was no big deal, that he could handle a few days a year alone, and yet every January 20th he lingered outside the rooms Hannibal locked himself up in hoping that maybe this year would be different. His pining was ridiculous, he knew that, and the worse it grew made Will realize just why he cared so much. 

He was in love with Hannibal Lecter. 

The close friendship they’d renewed over the years had been everything to him, and living a life of murder and extravagance together had only made Will realize just how much he cared about keeping Hannibal beside him.

And now his own feelings might make things worse. 

Bedelia’s assertion that Hannibal was in love with him was something Will had long ago realized was just another manipulation. She had to have known even then that Will’s feelings were more than friendship. Her hope had been to get Will to admit something even he hadn’t really allowed himself until now.

 Which was why that January 20th Will decided not to stick around. 

He put Cephie in the car, turned off his phone, and took off for a long drive.

Hannibal wouldn’t miss him, he knew, and if he got home after dark he wouldn’t have to stand around pining in the hallways for long. 

Cephie loved car rides, he knew, and as they just drove along the road he relaxed. 

“Happy BIrthday, Hannibal,” he whispered, hating himself for it. 

The ride lasted till long after dark, and though he tried all day he still had moments where he thought of calling but decided against it. Hannibal had issues with this day, and didn’t need him to make them worse. Will didn’t turn his phone on again until he pulled up to the house. 

To his surprise Hannibal’s car was out of the garage. 

He parked and looked at his phone. 

FIFTY MISSED PHONE CALLS

TEN VOICE MAILS

FORTY TWO TEXT MESSAGES

All from Hannibal. 

Will froze and put the phone to his ear. 

“Will, I see you aren’t home. If you’re headed to the store please buy some leeks. Thank you.” 

He swallowed back fear and went to one of the later messages. 

It was quiet for what felt like ages until he heard Hannibal speak. 

“You could have at the very least said goodbye.” 

Will got out of the car and ran into the house. 

He found Hannibal lying on the floor in the kitchen with an open bottle of wine at his side. There was a single cupcake sitting beside him with a candle in it. 

“Will.” 

Will let out a long breath and blinked back tears. “I’m sorry. I just...I couldn’t do it again this year.” 

Hannibal smiled at him, his eyes red, and nodded as a tear fell down his cheek. “You came home.” 

Cephie barked and went for Hannibal who lifted the cupcake up from her reach. 

“Cephie, no! Lay down.” 

She whined and laid her head down on Hannibal’s lap. He pet her, smiling sadly. “What a wonderful gift.” 

Will knelt down but didn’t come closer. “You never come out on your birthday.” 

Hannibal kept on petting the dog. “I needed to use the restroom and found the house devoid of noise. It was...oddly frightening, and I soon discovered you and the dog were gone. I thought you’d left for the store but as the hours passed I began to suspect...” 

Will moved closer and touched his hand. “I wouldn’t! I...no. I...” 

“I apologize if my need to be alone today has...hurt you. This is not a day of celebration for me, and never has been. Not for a very long time.” 

He let out a breath. “Why?” 

Hannibal entwined his fingers with Will’s. 

“They came for us on my birthday. I was eleven. My parents tried to shield Mischa and I but...they were unable. After she was taken as well I no longer felt a need to celebrate.” 

Will squeezed his hand. “Hannibal....” 

“In my upset I decided to make cupcakes. I’m unsure why as I do not enjoy them, you do,” he whispered, his voice thick as he held the cupcake out to Will, “Would you like this one?” 

He wrapped his fingers around Hannibal’s where he held the cupcake. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, smiling as he let go of him to reach up into the nearest drawer, “Though I want you to do something for me first.” 

“I don’t enjoy cupcakes, Will. As it is my birthday you would think to give me some...” 

Will pulled a long stick lighter out of the drawer and Hannibal blinked as Will lit the candle on top of the cupcake. “Make a wish.” 

“Will...” 

“Please?” Will asked, his voice shaking, “For me?” 

Hannibal closed his eyes and blew out the flame. He blinked them open again just as Will squeezed his other hand. “What did you wish for?” 

“A long held hope that will never be.” 

“Maybe it’s not....” 

Hannibal handed him the cupcake and Will took out the candle before taking a bite. He sighed at the taste. 

“It’s a wish I’ve had for many years and long given up on ever happening. But as this is my first birthday wish in a very long time I thought perhaps I would share it with the powers that be.” 

Will moved in closer, licking his lips. “Tell me.” 

“Will...” 

He squeezed Hannibal’s hand. “You freaked out when I was gone for a few hours, Hannibal, and now that I’m here you’re...just tell me.” 

Hannibal squeezed and looked down at their joined hands. “This is enough.” 

“Hannibal, c’mon. It’s not...” 

He lifted his head. “I will tell you if you can tell me something, Will.” 

“Ok.” 

“Why did it bother you to not see me one day a year enough that you needed to leave the house?” 

Will looked away. “Maybe I was lonely.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Or...maybe I just...don’t like it when you’re gone.” 

“If I were ever to leave and not return for hours what would you do?” 

He met Hannibal’s gaze again. “I’d go after you.” 

“And if you couldn’t find me? What then?” 

“I’d keep looking.” 

Hannibal smiled. “And then?” 

“I’d turn myself in so you would...know where to find me.” 

He brought Will’s hand to his lips. “I think perhaps...we’ve wasted some time.” 

Will swallowed. “I...” 

“Tell me, Will....what would you wish for?” 

“You,” Will whispered, his voice so quiet he was sure Hannibal wouldn’t hear, “I’d wish for you.” 

Hannibal pulled him in for a kiss that took Will’s breath away, the cupcake smushing into his knee as he climbed on Hannibal’s lap. He groaned as Hannibal’s tongue touched his, slowly tasting, and knew the sweet taste of the cupcake would forever make him remember this moment. 

Cephie barked and they ignored her, hungry for more, until she started to pull at Will’s pantleg making him laugh. He pulled back, laughing into Hannibal’s neck. 

“What is making you so amused?” 

“The dog! She...!” 

“Encephalitis, stop! Go to your room!” 

She froze, ears down, and trotted off. Hannibal held Will tighter, kissing his neck. 

“This has been the best birthday gift I could ever be given.” 

“Me too.” 

Hannibal smiled against his neck. “It is not your birthday.” 

“Might as well be,” Will mumbled, reaching up the back of his shirt, “I’ve waited for this just as long as you have.” 

Hannibal kissed him again, smiling. “Oh?” 

“Mmmm hmmm.” 

“Then perhaps...we had better finish this gift...elsewhere. We wouldn’t want to waste it.” 

Will grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

Hannibal kissed him again, sighing as Will dug nails into his neck, and when they pulled apart they both were breathless. 

“Hannibal,” Will whispered, touching his cheek, “You...you know I love you, right?” 

He watched a tear fall down Hannibal’s face. “I take back my words earlier. This is the best gift I could ever be given.” 

Will smiled. “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, kissing Will again, “I...live and breathe for you, Will. Everyday. There is nothing in me that doesn’t worship and love you.” 

Will pressed his forehead against Hannibal’s. “You just had to one up me, huh?” 

“Of course.” 

He kissed him again. “I guess I better one up you some other way.” 

Hannibal licked his lips. “Happy Birthday to me.” 

Will whistled, “Happy Birthday,” the whole time they walked toward Hannibal’s bedroom, and when they were inside kicked it shut behind them. 

They didn’t come out till morning. 

And they did it again the following year. 

Hannibal never spent another birthday alone.

A new tradition, that they’d continue for many years to come. 

[cyhyr]

Whumpmas In July: "I Can't"

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka; Mizuki/Umino Iruka

WC: ~4990

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Notes: Deception, Drugging, Prison Break, Dissociation, Rough Oral Sex, Conditioning, Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Character Death, Triggers, Hair-pulling, Violence, Kidnapping

A/N: This story follows a Non-Linear Narrative, for the most part.

A sequel to “Secret”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

The day Umino Iruka walked into the clinic seeking therapy was the day Rikona changed her plans to fit her new narrative. Sure, she’d been next and available to take patients, standing right at the check-in desk as he filled out his paperwork; and normally, there was a day or two in-between registration and the first session, just so the team of psychiatrists and therapists could best review the potential case and match the best team with the patient. But none of that mattered. She was going to take Umino Iruka, and as soon as he finished filing his intake forms, she took the thin folder right out of Aiko’s hands.

“Right this way, Umino-sensei.”

“I prefer to be addressed with my given name,” he said on the walk to her office.

“Of course, Iruka-sensei. I’m Rikona.”

It’s so simple to establish a baseline with Umino. He wants to tell someone about his story, he wants to get better, but he doesn’t have the words for it and he doesn't know how to get there. She gently prompts him along, learning his past and keeping him from dissociating—she finds out in the first session that good is not a word Iruka can hear in certain contexts. She discovers trauma hidden in every corner of his life, coloring every interaction he’s had since he was eleven. She hears about Naruto and how Iruka’s as good as adopted him, even if the village won’t let it be official; and about Kakashi, the partner who suggested Iruka seek out counseling, yet forgoes his own mental health.

Really, it’s not hard to understand him.

So they have a couple of sessions and it’s working well. She’s getting to know him, while at the same time getting him to trust her and tell her more about his story.

But after only a few sessions, he is captured and tortured and she has to make a hospital visit when he's inevitably brought home—by none other than Hatake Kakashi. And of course, Hatake doesn’t leave his side throughout the hospital stay except for required psychiatric consults. Umino comes out the other side of his captivity with minor injuries and almost no backslide on his mental health progress.

Rikona gives herself much of the credit for that. To Hatake, she initially gives a modicum of a nod; he’s certainly present.

~

Iruka trips for the third time in almost as many minutes, and puts a palm to his temple. “Rikona-sensei, is there somewhere I can sit down for a moment?”

She looks back at him, brows raised. “Another dizzy spell?”

He nods.

Rikona leads him to a bench and lets him sit, guiding his head to rest in his palms, his elbows braced on his thighs. She had said that they were going to go straight to the Hokage Tower, but the hospital never felt this far away before. It feels like he’s been walking for over an hour.

“How much longer to the Tower?” he asks.

“Not too much,” she says. “Ten minutes.”

That. That doesn't sound right. The hospital is only a fifteen minute walk from the Tower. Why have they been walking for so long?

He lifts his head and looks around, but the wooded park they’re in looks like any other in Konoha. “Rikona-sensei, why are we in a park?”

“You asked for a little time to make sure the medication I gave you is in full effect before speaking to Tsunade-sama,” Rikona answers quickly. “Do you not remember?”

The world is still spinning. He carefully shakes his head before putting his head back down. “Are these dizzy spells also a side-effect?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You may have to just power through them.”

Iruka groans. “Okay, let’s keep going, then.”

Rikona offers her hand to help him stand, and her elbow to keep him steady as they walk.

The trees go by.

The sounds of the village fade away.

~

And then they find out that the Sato event traumatized Hatake. And honestly? She kept her cool in the meeting, but that night when she’s home, she has herself a good laugh. The man went and got himself traumatized over someone who he’s been manipulating for months, if not years? She’s not heard of a successful Reverse Stockholm syndrome; it’s hilarious.

But she also harbors a deep-set anger because it was under Hatake’s watch that Umino went and took that mission—he’s not an active field agent, shouldn’t be in the field, it should have never happened. It was under Hatake’s watch that the Sato incident occurred.

And then Umino talks about moving. And Rikona knows. This is the time. He’s asking for her advice, blushing as he talks about someday asking Hatake to move in together. But Hatake’s influence has been nothing positive and she knows exactly who Umino should be seeing instead.

She knows because she’s been covering for his usual therapist for over seven months and she’s a professional. She knows how to recognize abusers, manipulators. She can form an emotional connection with a carrot if it needs therapy—she’s good.

So when Mizuki tells her about his old boyfriend, this wonderful man he misses so dearly, who has never once visited him in prison; Rikona resolves to be the one to help this man, her patient, receive closure at the least—or reunite long lost lovers at best.

She knows she’s making the right decision. She knows Mizuki is good for Iruka. She knows because when she told him about what happened to Umino, she could hear his heart break.

“That’s why I never let Iruka take missions without me, see? Because I knew things like this could happen, and I care about him—Rikona, I care so very much—I could never have forgiven myself if something like this had happened to him while we were together.”

And no one can fake that tone, those heart-wrenching sobs, the tears, oh gods the tears.

Together they make a plan. And she’s so happy to help him, so happy that she’s essential to his reunion with Umino. Mizuki says it himself; without her, the plan could never be implemented. She even lets him write the first letter, so Umino can hear his words straight from his own hand.

And on her way out of the prison that day, she grabs a few forms, and some extra envelopes, and if one happens to be a request for a conjugal visit, well… Mizuki’s been alone for so long. The least Umino can do is reconsider.

...

(She didn’t know what that first letter said until Iruka-sensei brought it to her office, feeling like he could dissociate at any moment and experiencing a moderate anxiety attack. When she read it, she felt a sting of doubt, like maybe Mizuki wasn’t how she’d diagnosed him. But then she remembers Hatake, and how Mizuki says he changes things to fit his stories; and she realizes that this note must have been tampered with before it reached Iruka-sensei.)

~

The prison break for one goes like this.

It starts seven months prior, with the head psychiatrist for the hospital getting swamped with paperwork and a sudden flood of new patients, and it’s only her, Rikona, and one other therapist working the clinic lately. Tomi-sensei asks—practically begs—Rikona to take her prison shift on Fridays, that they’ll shut down the clinic except for emergencies. It’s only until further notice, only until Tomi-sensei can hire another psychiatrist, or at least another therapist.

When Rikona gets to the prison, the guard is wary at first—she'd already been there that week—but after a quick explanation he waves her through. She's been treating inmates in the East Wing for months prior, so she knows her way through security. But Tomi-sensei treats inmates in the West Wing. Three inmates, specifically.

The first she sees for an hour and a half. The first half hour is talk therapy, the last hour she oversees his electroconvulsive therapy. The second receives a cocktail of anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, a tranquilizer, and extra medicine to help with the side-effects of all these. Then, Rikona sits with them and talks for an hour. After that, she breaks for lunch. Finally, the third inmate of the West Wing; who receives one large dose of a mood stabilizer, and two hours of therapy.

Two hours a week, for seven months. Sometimes she stays later if the story he’s telling is particularly riveting, and she thinks that his telling of the story will help him.

But at the end of the day, she signs off on all three patients, carefully writing Tomi-sensei’s name in place of her own. Tomi trusts her judgement, and her conscience is clear. All three patients are steadily improving, some at slower paces, but improvement nonetheless. Rikona bills the hours in her own name, though; Tomi can take the credit for their health, but she needs to pay her mortgage.

So it’s easy to check out one of the East Wing prisoners for electroconvulsive therapy that Monday when she heads in. And she’s been working in the prison for years, so security knows her, and the East Wing prisoners are minimum security risks anyway—Rikona, thin and small as she is, picks an old woman to lead to therapy. And if the room for electroconvulsive therapy is in the West Wing, well security knows that Rikona knows her way around there, too.

The old woman is feeble, slow, gentle. The prison system broke her years ago. The poor thing doesn’t need to be shocked into submission. That’s not why Rikona brought her along.

There’s a seal she knows—the only advanced bit of chakra use she ever learned, before she determined that the shinobi way wasn’t her way—which can render a person invisible for a short time. She knows that the loss of his ability to mold chakra is very hard on Mizuki, and so when she leads the old woman into his cell and gives him the premade seal, she returns the grin he gives her.

“It’s time,” she says.

“You have him?”

“He’s all yours, Mizuki. You just have to promise to be careful. Whatever’s been done, he’s—”

“Rikona-sensei, I could never hurt him.” She presses the tag to his chest and he disappears.

She closes the door to the cell, leaving the woman in there alone, and walks away.

Confidently, she strides through the halls of the prison. She waves to the security personnel she knows. And then she gets back to the woman’s cell, and pushes another tag onto it—one to keep the door locked for good. They won’t be realizing that she’s gone for hours, if not days. They only use the flap at the bottom of the door to push her meals inside, and the tag leaves that part alone, she makes sure of it.

She toes it, just a little, just to be sure. It sways.

Rikona walks out the front doors, Mizuki a silent, invisible presence behind her.

~

Does she feel bad for lying to her client?

Gods, yes.

But it’s for his own good.

Hatake is a terrible, manipulative elitist. He doesn’t deserve someone like Iruka-sensei.

They’re five minutes from her home, a wooden cabin she maintains deep in the forests outside of the village. It’s there that the medication takes full effect and Iruka-sensei collapses. She’s so much smaller than him, and he’s heavier than he looks, but she pulls him onto her back and drags his feet along the ground and up the stone steps and into the house.

She’s careful, laying him down on the rug in front of the fireplace. It’s warm, so she doesn’t feel the need to start a fire. He’ll stay unconscious for a few hours, just until after sunset. She puts a blanket within reach, just in case he wakes up before they get back.

And then she leaves to collect Mizuki.

~

Kakashi doesn’t know how to explain it.

But something’s wrong.

There’s an odd scent in the air.

He had been heading to Iruka’s house, but he sighs and turns around to head back to the Tower. He’s still not going to take that mission, but he needs to talk to Tsunade.

~

Rikona watches as Mizuki strokes Iruka’s face tenderly. She’s making dinner in the kitchen and they’re laying side-by-side on the rug in front of the fireplace, now lit and warming the cabin. Her heart swells to see them together again after all this time, and she hopes that Hatake hasn’t poisoned Iruka-sensei’s memories so much that he can’t remember the good times he had with Mizuki.

They look good together.

Iruka-sensei hasn’t woken up yet, but she checked his vitals when they came back and he’s coming back to himself. They had pulled his vest and weapons off of him and set them on the couch once they got back, so he could lay more comfortably. He should wake any minute.

~

“A bad feeling?”

“A bad scent.”

“Like an intruder?”

“I don’t know. Very likely.”

Tsunade steeples her fingers. “Track it. Do not engage. Report back.”

Kakashi nods and turns to leave.

“It could be Akatsuki,” she warns. “Be careful.”

Kakashi is gone as soon as she finishes her sentence.

~

This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be a part of this. This isn’t love.

Rikona can’t believe she was so thoroughly duped.

~

The pack at large doesn’t know the scent he’s trying to convey to them. All he can say to describe it is wrong and bad and that can describe any fucker who hits their partner or child, or any stall vendor who deliberately raises their prices for a certain kind of person, or—

“The ripe, rancid one?” Pakkun asks, growling.

And those are the words he’s been searching for, yes. The rest of the pack catches that same scent and readies themselves.

“That’s the one. What is it?”

“That’s the prisoner Iruka-Boss fought a while back, when the prison had that major breakout.”

Kakashi’s stomach flips and his spine chills.

Mizuki.

~

“You’re awake.”

Mizuki puts his hand over Iruka’s mouth to keep him from crying out, leans over and whispers in his ear, “You could never get away from me, don’t start trying now.” The tears glistening in the corners of his eyes shimmer in the firelight and he looks beautiful when he cries. Mizuki dips his head and kisses Iruka’s neck, relishing the whimper he receives.

He removes his hand, knowing he has Iruka’s obedience.

“You’re not real,” he mutters. “This isn’t real. It’s-It’s a side-effect. Of the m-medication.”

“Oh, baby, this isn’t a dream,” Mizuki lifts himself to hover over Iruka, pressing the length of his body along the tan one on the floor. “I’m here. I’m here to stay.” He shoves his knees in-between Iruka’s thighs and rolls his hips. “Hmm, missed this. Missed you. Did you miss me, too, baby?”

“Get off,” Iruka hisses.

Mizuki grins and presses his teeth to Iruka’s neck. “Don’t mind if I do.”

~

Kakashi sends half of the pack to find Iruka, and the rest follow Mizuki’s scent.

He goes to the prison; he needs to check himself. He needs Pakkun to be wrong.

The security personnel confirm that prisoner 834-769 is in his cell. Been there all morning. There’s no log of him being taken out. Kakashi doesn’t growl, but asks if someone can go down to the cell and give him visual confirmation.

“Chakra confirmation is sufficient when there’s no cause for alarm,” he’s told.

Chakra confirmation???

“The fucker has no ability to mold chakra! And there is cause for alarm,” he grits through his teeth. “My pack caught his scent outside. I need visual confirmation of his presence in his cell now.”

Security at least pretends to take him seriously. They send a team down to the West Wing and Kakashi considers following them.

And then a bone-chilling howl echoes outside, and Kakashi doesn’t care about visual confirmation. Because the howl is the one that says scent lost and it’s coming from Bull’s half of the pack, the half that’s supposed to find Iruka—

And if they lost his scent—

Kakashi bolts.

~

Rikona leaves them to reacquaint in the living room. She steps outside. The stew will be alright on its low heat, and the rice still has plenty of time left to steam.

The stars are nice. The moon is waning from full, and she pulls a throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. In the distance, she can hear wolves howling and smiles softly.

It’s such a nice night.

~

He can’t explain it. He doesn’t stop to try, to tell an ANBU patrol what he’s doing, or to find Gai or anyone else.

The look on the security guard’s face was enough. No one will believe him if he tells them that Mizuki has something to do with Iruka’s disappearance. Hell, no one will likely believe him if he tells them that Iruka’s missing. After the Sato incident—and his reaction afterwards; he can admit that he was being a little overprotective—no one will take him seriously.

Kakashi has to do this by instinct. He has the pack flanking him, leading him along the ripe, rancid scent. They understand without him explaining, thank the gods.

Iruka is pack. This knowledge is as an intrinsic part of him as his family name, as chidori, as his loyalty to Konoha. More than this, the deeper part of him recognizes Iruka as his and recognizes the reciprocal possession Iruka holds on his very being.

Whether he knows it or not, Iruka owns him.

Boss’s Boss, indeed.

~

Mizuki hears the door shut behind Rikona as she leaves. He puts his mouth over Iruka’s, and when his lips won’t part he pulls on Iruka’s hair knowing that it will force a gasp as well as remind Iruka whose he is. He pushes his tongue into Iruka’s mouth when it opens and rolls his hips faster. With his other hand—the one not busy with the hair—he reaches to his crotch and pulls down the front of his prison pants and frees his dick. He fights with Iruka’s pants, and then lowers those too and eventually grabs both of them together in his fist.

Iruka’s limp. That’s fine. He’s used to working with that.

Iruka winces into their kiss, muttering, “Stop.”

“None of that. You know better.”

Iruka turns away. “I said, stop.”

Mizuki lets go of his own dick and pinches Iruka’s, watching him wince and hold back tears and bite his bottom lip.

“You know I don’t like that word. You don’t get to tell me to stop.” He grabs them both and strokes. “There, isn’t that better?”

“No, please—I can’t—I don’t want—”

Mizuki pulls his hair harder, twists his fist in the strands, and Iruka relaxes and his eyes turn glassy and there he goes. Mizuki grins, bites at Iruka’s mouth, and says, “Beg me to touch you.”

The response comes like the last two and a half years never happened. “Touch me,” Iruka murmurs.

“Tell me you missed me.”

“Missed you, ‘Zuki.”

“Aww, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel good.”

~

Kakashi runs through the forest behind the hospital and another sinking feeling hits his belly.

Rikona-sensei was supposed to be in charge of Iruka’s care.

But if Iruka’s missing.

Where’s Rikona-sensei?

“Pakkun.”

“Boss.”

“You know Iruka’s therapist?”

“Yeah. She went this way, too.”

Mizuki took them both. Fuck.

~

“Want to suck my cock, baby?”

Iruka comes back, just for a moment, just long enough to get the n sound of his answer. Mizuki tugs his hair again—training Iruka to become his personal little slut at the pull of his hair was the most brilliant idea Mizuki had ever had; he pats his own back every day he remembers the time he spent on it. And, damn it took time. Iruka never liked having his hair pulled, so the pain and the sex and his never-ending desire to please Mizuki combined together to make a perfect storm. And it still took months, almost a year, of hair-pulling and ordering Iruka around to condition him into the perfect whore.

And now, thanks to Rikona, he’s got that back.

He pulls himself up to the couch and sits, slides his pants to his thighs, and guides Iruka into position over his cock. There’s still tears on his lashes, and that’s just fucking perfect.

Mizuki’s been using his hand for over a year, and Tsubaki’s cunt before that.

Nothing compares to Iruka’s throat.

“Oh, good boy,” he groans as Iruka slides down over him. It’s tight, hot, wet—perfect—he put so much work into training this slut to take him and blow him right and two years isn’t enough time for Iruka to forget it seems, because he gets to slurping and tonguing and bobbing his head like he never left Mizuki’s legs.

~

Rikona stops in the doorway, blinking.

Iruka-sensei has dissociated. Mizuki seems to be aware of this, yet isn’t trying to get him to come back. In fact, he’s using Iruka-sensei’s mouth as-as—

She turns and goes back outside, closing the door quietly behind her.

She looks up at the night sky and suddenly the stars don’t feel so relaxing.

~

“My sweet, good boy, sucking me soo good. Look at you. Right where you belong.”

He remembers what he’s heard about Hatake from Rikona. What a joke. “As if blowing someone else could ever change who owns you.”

Iruka whimpers. Gods that sound fucking drives him crazy.

“Who owns you, baby?”

Iruka pulls off of him, just enough. “You, Mizuki.”

“Fuck, missed this.” He pushes Iruka back down, hits the back of his throat and keeps going. He takes Iruka’s hair in both hands and moves his head for him; Iruka isn’t going fast enough to get him off. This way, though, “You’re mine, baby. So good. Mine, mine, mine—FUCK!”

He shoots down Iruka’s throat.

The first time they did this, Iruka had spat it out. Mizuki made sure he never did that again. He knows that Iruka throws up later, once he comes back to himself; but whatever. Right now, he’s swallowing down Mizuki’s come, his throat working his pulsing cock and it feels great. He pulls back near the end of his orgasm, and lets the last pulses of come splash on Iruka’s lips and chin, watching it drip down his neck.

The tears are falling freely, but Iruka will stay on his knees until Mizuki tells him to get up. Fucking beautiful.

~

Why would Mizuki take both of them?

It doesn’t make sense.

Iruka, obviously. Mizuki’s had it out for Iruka since they were twelve, if not younger.

But why Rikona-sensei? If nothing else, he should have killed her. They should have found a body.

They still haven’t picked up on Iruka’s scent. There’s a third scent, but it’s muddled and weird and Kakashi can’t place it.

“Boss.”

“Akino.”

“Smoke, up ahead.”

“That’s where they are.”

He knows it in his bones. In his soul. He’d bet his life on it.

… He’s also betting Iruka’s life on it. The pack is already at top speed, but for this last sprint they all push just a little more.

~

Rikona walks off the porch and down the path. She’s reviewing the last four months of therapy sessions with Iruka-sensei in her head, and the last seven months with Mizuki, wondering where she went wrong. She hugs her arms tight to her body and watches her feet.

Hatake-san is an elitist. A genius, gifted child who advanced through the ranks too quickly and thinks too highly of himself. He’s Friend-Killer Kakashi, known for leaving a teammate for dead, for putting his own fist through the girl who loved him for the sake of a mission. He’s manipulative, and known for reading porn in public, and tampers with his partner’s mail, and-and-and—

She’s reaching.

She knows she’s reaching.

Oh gods, what has she done.

~

Kakashi watches Rikona stop on the path and begin to shake. He slides out of the tree silently beside her, and says, “Yo, Rikona-sensei.”

She gasps, startled. “Hatake—”

“Where’s Iruka?”

She points to the cabin behind her. “Please, I didn’t know. He lied to me.”

“Hmm?”

“He told me you were bad for him. He told me that he missed Iruka-sensei. He cried when I told him about Sato.” Rikona bites her lip. “How did he fake that? Did he fake that?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

“I’ll turn myself in.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kakashi says. He glares at her, exposing the sharingan for full threat. “If he’s hurt, you get hurt.”

~

“We should go to Water Country,” Mizuki sighs, slipping his dick back into Iruka’s mouth. “They’ve got good clubs out there. I could make a lot of coin selling the use of your throat.”

Iruka’s so far gone, so far down, he doesn’t even react.

“And with the ocean and all, your vomiting won’t be so off-putting each night.”

The door breaks open and a pack of mutts crash through the windows around him. Mizuki pulls out of Iruka’s mouth, reaches in Iruka’s weapon pouch beside him for a kunai. He may not have the ability to mold chakra anymore, but that doesn’t change how well a blade can slice through the delicate life beating in a person’s neck. Mizuki pulls Iruka to his lap and has him cover his body, pressing the kunai under his jaw.

“I wouldn’t,” he warns. Hatake stalks into view, coming around the couch. “I promise, I’ll kill him faster than you or your mutts can get to me.”

One hand on the kunai, the other around Iruka’s waist. He doesn’t even need to keep a hand in his hair now. Iruka’s his.

He put in the time.

He put in the effort.

He built Iruka.

He sneers at Hatake. “You and your mutts can leave.”

“Not without him.”

“Iruka? Tell Hatake to leave.”

“Please leave, Hatake-san.”

Oh, that was good. Like he was slapped, Hatake flinches; just barely, but Mizuki catches it. That was nice. Worth a reward.

“Good boy, baby,” Mizuki purrs. He bites Iruka’s shoulder, relishing the soft whimper.

~

He’s under. He’s so far under and Kakashi has to be careful or he won’t get Iruka back.

This wasn’t a warning Rikona gave him; that came from Tomi-sensei a few weeks back, when she heard about one of the dissociation episodes he’d experienced during the Sato incident. He can’t trust anything Rikona has ever told him now, but Tomi-sensei never had a hand in Iruka’s care and so is objective.

He motions for the pack to stand down.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Mizuki says. “Don’t leave. Just stay still.”

He takes the kunai away from Iruka’s neck and aims it at Kakashi.

He won’t hit him; Kakashi’s faster than anything he can throw. This is perfect. This is his chance.

He just has to be careful.

Iruka could still not come back if he’s not careful.

~

The bite of a blade against his neck is odd, but familiar. The slosh of come in his stomach is uncomfortable, but familiar. The taste of musk and come on his tongue is gross, but familiar.

Mizuki’s rumble against his back is nice and familiar.

Slipping into following Mizuki’s orders is simple. It’s easy.

The pain of his hair being pulled. The claustrophobic sensation of being boxed in as Mizuki hovers over him. Their bodies pressed together. His dick—pain—being stroked alongside Mizuki’s own length. It’s all familiar.

Falling is easy.

He can’t. He can’t handle being there anymore.

And then—

“Don’t move. Just stay still.”

The blade leaves his neck, and Iruka tracks it as Mizuki levels it at—

At—

Kakashi—

“Just sleep, dearest.”

“Please, Iruka, I wanna touch you please.”

“I like asking.”

“Please kiss me.”

“Hello, Love.”

“What do you need?”

“I will always come for you.”

“I will be wherever you want me to be.”

“Hello, Love.”

“Can I use the g-word tonight?”

“Hello, Love.”

“Hello, Love.”

“Hello, Love.”

And Iruka wakes up.

He reaches for the kunai out in front of him, disarms Mizuki and stands up out of his lap. He fights the vertigo, fights the chills chasing each other down his back and his arms.

He remembers the day he came home to Mizuki and Naruto, and how he put two kunai in him before kicking him out. He remembers the rage, seeing Naruto pull away from Mizuki like hot coals, remembers sending Naruto to hide in his own room because they had been in Naruto’s room; there was still a small blood stain on the floor of that apartment when he left, one he couldn’t clean up in time.

Mizuki can fuck with him all he’d like.

But he can’t fuck with Iruka’s family.

And maybe Mizuki couldn’t hit Kakashi with a kunai if he were point-blank. Maybe a thousand kunai couldn’t hit Kakashi if Mizuki were the one throwing them. It doesn’t matter.

Iruka’s been teaching Anatomy of a Kill and running disarming practicals for years. They can call him soft, and say his humanity is a weakness or a strength. He preaches the Will of Fire and he burns with it; he will protect that which is precious to him.

Naruto.

His own sanity.

Kakashi.

Whether or not it needs protecting, Iruka will be the shield.

He plunges the kunai into Mizuki’s chest, drags it through heart and liver, snapping ribs and muscle tissue as he goes, and settles the blade in Mizuki’s intestines. He stands over Mizuki as the life leaves his chest, gushing red and bloodying Iruka’s hands and clothes.

Mizuki’s eyes are dark with betrayal.

He whispers, “I will always own you.”

And then… and then he’s gone.

And Iruka breathes.

Gods.

I’m… I’m free.

[definitelyseven]

deal | two

summary: when your step-mom unexpectedly offers you a deal you can’t resist, you decide to give her a taste of her own medicine by seducing her potential suitor, Im Jaebum. 

one (m) | two | three (m) | four (m) | five | six (m) | seven | eight (m) | nine | ten | eleven  | twelve (m) | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen - final |

You quietly watched as Jaebum interacted with his son at the dinner table. He was a cute little boy - smart and well-mannered. You wouldn’t believe he was only three years old. 

“Appa, I’m done,” Minguk said handing Jaebum his fork. He takes the fork from his hands and wipes his mouth for him. He whines to get off his high chair so he can play in the playroom. 

“You can play after your bath,” Jaebum says sternly. He turns to your step-mom, Eunbi, “Will you help him with his bath?” This catches her off-guard, making you chuckle. You had to admit, it was nice to see her be submissive for once. 

“Oh, sure...” she said getting up and taking Minguk to the bathroom. 

It was just you and him now. 

“Help me with the dishes?” he asked rhetorically whilst grabbing the empty plates and heading to the kitchen. You followed behind with the rest of the plates. You wondered why a rich man like him didn’t have any housekeepers. He did everything himself; something you wished your father knew how to do. 

The both of you were standing side by side in front of the kitchen sink. He handed you the cleaned dishes to wipe down. It was painfully quiet between you two as you thought about topics to talk about. 

“Have we met?” you blurted out. You had to know if he remembered you - maybe it was inappropriate now that he was with your step-mom, but she didn’t have to know. 

“Um, no...no I don’t think so,” he said nonchalantly while handing you another dish to wipe down. “Why?”

“You just look like someone I know,” you said giving him a subtle smile. It went quiet again after your question. You cleared your throat, attempting to start another conversation, “How did you and Eunbi meet?”

“We’re childhood friends.”

“Oh. And the both of you just started dating now?” you asked, slightly turning your body to face him.

“I was with Minguk’s mother since high school. She died while giving birth.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. She had a heart condition but insisted on having Minguk. We were prepared,” he said as he hands you another dish to wipe down. You watched him carefully, his eyes teary from the thought of his dead lover. “Eunbi said your father died around the same time.”

You didn’t respond. How dare she talk about your father to another man? Your father hasn’t even been gone for that long and she’s already thinking about marrying another man. Jaebum was the same - three years and he already moved on. 

“You both moved on quick,” you said turning your attention back to cleaning the dishes. 

“It’s not like that,” he clarified, but you kept quiet. You hear him sigh quietly. “So, who do I remind you of?” he asked trying to change the topic. 

“No one.”

“Seemed pretty important if you asked about it. A boyfriend maybe?” he asked with a smirk. 

“N-no, I’m single.”

“Good to know,” he said turning to smile at you. He leans in close to your body - his chest pressed on the left side of your arm, his right arm linked around your waist, leaning on the kitchen counter. You gulped, nervous. His scent reminded you of that day at the gym. You didn’t mistaken him for someone else. It was him and here he was standing dangerously close to you. “You missed a spot,” he said reaching for the plate on the dish rack, his face close to yours. 

You cleared your throat, moving away from him, “Right...” As you pondered about what just happened, you hear Minguk call for Jaebum from behind. He must be done with his bath. 

“Hey there,” Jaebum said picking him up into his arms. “How was your bath?”

“Eunbi doesn’t know how to give baths,” Minguk said honestly, making you laugh. Oh how you loved kids - they don’t know how to lie. “She got water all over herself.” You reached to touch Minguk’s hand in which he grabs it, holding onto your pointer finger. You could learn to love this kid. 

Eunbi comes into the kitchen, hair slightly damped in a see-through white shirt. You rolled your eyes at her. What was she trying to do? Seduce him with his kid around? Disgusting. 

You tell Jaebum that you could finish up the dishes so he can play with Minguk in the playroom. Eunbi puts on her fake smile and tells him, she’ll join them in a moment. After he leaves, she makes her way to you.

“You think it’s funny?” she said frustrated.

“Yes, actually I do. I think it’s fucking hilarious watching you pretend to be a mother when you know nothing about being one.”

“Listen,” she said letting out a frustrated sigh. “I am paying you to be here. Do better and don’t think I’ll be nice to you because of your father.”

“Don’t fucking think for a second that I’ll play nice especially when you didn’t tell me he has a son” you spatted. “If I have to suffer seeing you every day, then you better believe I’ll give you a hard time. And one more thing, don’t you fucking dare talk about my father ever again,” you glared at her. “Now be a good mother and clean up this mess,” you said walking pass her and out of the kitchen. The audacity she had talking about your father. You weren’t that little girl that could be pushed around anymore. You learned how to stick up for yourself the moment your father died; the moment she stole everything from you. 

--

The next morning you made your way downstairs to the indoor gym. The one thing that was nice about moving into Jaebum’s house was how accessible everything was; indoor and outdoor pool, fully-equipped gym, music and dance studios, game room, theater, wine cellar - everything you could possibly need to fulfill your desired hobbies. You entered the indoor gym and the first thing you see is Jaebum who was running on the treadmill. You didn’t expect to see him here so early in the morning. His eyes met yours through the mirror making him stop the treadmill. “Good morning.”

“Morning. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. I can come back if you want to be alone,” you tell him.

“Don’t be silly,” he said patting your arm, “Work out with me.”

The last time you worked out with him, you ended up having sex with him. You honestly wouldn’t mind if that happened again. Jaebum jumps into the boxing ring and gestures you to enter with him by offering you his hand. 

“I’ve never boxed before.”

“I can teach you,” he said throwing you a pair of gloves before sliding on a punching mitt. “Hit me,” he instructed. As obedient as a dog, you swing your right arm to hit the mitt. “Come on, you can do better!” You swung to hit the mitt again. He dodges your hit causing you to launch forward, falling almost face down. “Get up and hit me again,” he instigates. You swing your arms left and right, left and right, but he continuously dodges it. He was provoking you on purpose. 

Using all your strength, you threw another punch at him but he dodges again. This time you were unable to catch yourself, falling face down. You groaned in pain.

“You alright?” Jaebum asked offering you his hand to help you up. You take his hand and use all your strength to pull him down onto the mat. You quickly climbed on top of him, straddling him.

You smirked, “Yeah, I’m alright. You?” As you were preparing to throw a punch at him, he grabs onto your arm tightly and flips you over. You groaned at the impact of the mat against your back. 

“Still doing okay?” he asked again, this time getting on top of you. You tried to squirm away, but the weight of his body holds you down. 

“Get off me,” you complained, struggling to get up. 

He chuckles, “I quite like this position. Don’t you?”

Sweat dripping down the side of his face, his bangs dangling in front of his eyes. God, he was gorgeous. His white tank hung loosely over his body, making his arms look more defined and his shoulders broader than you had remembered. The weight of his body pressed against yours reminded you of that day he had you at the gym. You bit your lip at the thought of his skin on yours. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispered, brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead and then lightly chucking under chin.

And just like the first time you met, you batted your eyes innocently and said, “Don’t do what?” You were sure he’d remember you by now. There was no way he didn’t. 

He chuckles once again, “You’re trying to get me in trouble.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you whispered leaning forward. You were playing with fire. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this, but this was fun. This was exciting. The feeling of being caught and doing something gave you adrenaline, gave you courage - it made you braver. 

His hand traces up your leg to your thigh, gently stroking it. You held your breath the moment he laid his hands on you. His touches sending waves all over your body, down to your core. You gulped, nervous. Jaebum’s hand dances up your waist to your stomach before stopping just before your breasts. He was so gentle, so careful. It was like the both of you forgot Eunbi was just upstairs. 

He leans down close to your face and for a split second it looked like he wanted to kiss you. You’d happily oblige, but a loud cry came from the audio baby monitor. Minguk was up. And as if it broke Jaebum out of a trance, he quickly got off you to grab the baby monitor. 

“Thanks for working out with me,” he said before leaving to check on Minguk. 

You sighed in defeat. So close yet so far, you thought. 

[kidnappedbycartoons]

Thoughts on Hope

After I did Noah, you should’ve known I was doing Hope next. Frankly, she is my second favorite girl from that season (After Chelsea). I know a lot of people don’t like her, but let me give my thoughts about her.

At First:

It was obvious she was playing the game at first. She went straight for Noah without asking anyone to step forward, slept with him after Priya came in so that she couldn’t turn his head, inserted herself as the leader of the girls, and was lowkey performing with Noah in the first week. Remember how defensive she got during the Mean Tweets challenge even though Priya/MC gets the majority of votes for who is playing the game? But I always wondered why she was playing the game at first. Like, what could her reason be? Then I remembered a conversation she had with MC.

On Day 10, when MC goes to talk to Hope, she reveals that growing up her family didn’t have a lot of money and so she’s proud of her accomplishments because of that. That would also explain why she focused so much on Lucas’s money and why that comment about her having more money than Noah came out. Would it be right to say that she is financially insecure, I don’t know? But money might mean a lot to her because it gives her a form of security, not physically, but emotionally. It makes her feel important, accomplished, and confident. But she isn’t someone who will beg for money, no, she is someone who will get it on her own.

I also remember on one of the later days, she says that she wants to become the CEO of her own toy company and it costs a lot of money to start your own business. That could be part of the reason why she was playing the game. She splits the money when she and Noah wins and that’s for a multitude of reasons. Number one, that would be a heartless and selfish thing to do and she’s not that kind of person. Number two, she actually does have feelings for Noah and wasn’t going to hurt him like that. Number three, the public would dislike her if she did, which could cause problems for future endeavors.

Actually, I want to talk about the first reason, because I’ve noticed some people acting like Hope is some big, bad villain and I need to defend her.

Her Personality:

Hope is someone who naturally takes the lead. I don’t think she has a problem with control like Lottie does, but if no one else speaks up she’ll do so. I don’t know if I’m remembering wrong, but when MC takes over, she doesn’t interrupt her or downplay it. In fact, she agrees with MC and kind of stands by her. Yes, she does overdo it a bit in the beginning, but she loosens up a bit by the end.

Also, she’s not someone that likes drama. We see her try to calm things down on Day Five and on that stupid Girl’s Day Trip. Even when Operation Nope happens, she doesn’t drag it out like Lottie did with Marisol and Rocco. She even tries to act like nothing’s wrong in the few days following until something comes up, like finding out Noah had an ex named Priya. However, sometimes she does act a bit irrational.

The first instance that comes to mind is Day Ten. When she feels herself getting closer to Noah, the two end up arguing. Hope is upset because of the money comment and when MC calls her out on it sounding stupid, only then does she relax. This isn’t the first time either. The next day when she is in the lounge when MC gives her the hot chocolate, she says that Noah said she was upset with Priya because of her pride and it clearly affects her. And during Casa Amor, after the girls see the video, she starts stressing about Noah again, and only when MC gives her a reality check (If she didn’t participate in Operation Nope) does she come to her senses a bit. Hope gets in her head a lot and she needs someone who can call her out on it (Like Lucas), and that’s one of the reasons why she and Noah could never work. When she gets in her head, that’s when she gets a bit annoying to be around, but what she needs is a reality check.

Now. I have to talk about them. I’m going to focus on Hope and how people keep making her the villain though.

Nope:

They were never a good couple. Besides the fact that Hope was playing the game, they just didn’t mesh well. A lot of people say that Hope was keeping Noah on a leash and I do agree, to an extent. In the beginning, before Casa Amor, she definitely was. For example, she locked Noah in quickly when Priya came in but also didn’t bother to hide her excitement when Lucas came in. Remember when she was talking about them on Day Six and then MC says something about Noah being available and she gets upset? Or better yet, on Day Seven after Mr. Love Island. The girls are talking about the guys in the dressing room and when all the girls say that Noah saying that Hope is the only one he wants to date, she tells them to “Look, but don’t touch”. Or if MC takes Noah on a date on Day Nine, Hope feels the need to talk about how it doesn’t bother her. We all have to remember that is only the first week and that everyone is still getting to know each other, but she stops Noah from getting to know the girls while simultaneously letting herself interact with Lucas and Jakub.

Before the update, during the shower argument in Operation Nope, Hope had shamed Noah for not fighting for their relationship. They’ve changed it now to have her say “If you’re going to pie me off, I’d rather know about it before the entire villa” (Along those lines). But prior to that, that really shows her keeping him on a leash. She practically guilts him for not fighting for their relationship, only to then dump him the next day when Jakub picks her. I think it’s a mixture of two things. One, her playing the game and wanting to win and getting nervous when she sees how big of a risk MC/Priya is. Two, her actually developing feelings for Noah and not wanting to let him go. And remember that she gets in her head a lot and starts acting irrationally. All of this combined, caused her to say those words (Not justifying it, just explaining it).

But we also have to remember that Noah isn’t a saint either. After Operation Nope (If MC doesn’t participate), when he says that Hope was more upset at Priya because of her pride when Priya literally tried to kiss him earlier that day? She was actively trying to steal him away from Hope after going on about how cute of a couple they were just a few days ago, in front of Hope at that. And then not taking the blame for his part when he could’ve shut it down. If he had made it clear that he wanted to be with Hope to both of them, then Priya would’ve probably backed off. If he had said that he wanted to try things on with Priya to both of them, Hope would’ve been upset but she would’ve let him be. And if MC did participate in Operation Nope, then it’s just worse, but I already spoke about this on his post.

After Casa Amor, and I’m going to use it if MC didn’t participate in ON, she and Noah are kind of on a weird page. The two of them are saved by Lottie and Bobby, solely so they could get back together. I think both of them felt pressured to get back together after that since it seemed like everyone else was rooting for them to get back together. Once they do, we see that Hope is worried because she doesn’t want kids but Noah does. What I find interesting is that on Day Twenty-Six, Hope reveals that Noah would always talk about how he wanted a big family and it seemed he just assumed Hope did as well because he had these kinds of expectations about her. Like her being too much of a lady to get drunk at a waterpark. And during the Baby Boom episode, she starts getting in her head when she sees how much fun Noah is having with the doll baby and Noah gives in to calm her down and make her comfortable. It’s like, they both have feelings for each other, but they’re slowly realizing that they’re not a compatible couple, but they’re staying together because of the pressure of the show.

Her And The Girls:

I already know that she and Lottie don’t talk after the show. But I need to talk about her and Priya because I feel like Hope considered Priya a friend while Priya didn’t. She even tells Priya on Day Twelve that she was ready to be friends again if she backed off. But there are moments prior to that. I noticed that Hope and Priya hung around each other a lot. Like on Day Four, Hope went to check on Priya. On Day Six, the two were talking about Rocco and Marisol in the dressing room. On Day Seven, they were hanging around each other before Rocco showed up. Which makes ON worse for Hope because someone she considered a friend betrayed her.

As for her and Marisol, I never noticed the little moments between them until I had her hate my MC. On Day Eleven, Marisol talks with Hope if MC doesn’t give her the hot chocolate. During Casa Amor, it hints that she and Marisol have spoken to each other about something. Even in the first week, there were moments where Hope was doing Marisol’s hair and I don’t think I saw the other girls doing that. I think the reason why they meshed was probably that Hope tends to get in her head a lot and Marisol, with her psychoanalyzing skills, puts a bit of ease to Hope’s mind. Not to mention that Marisol doesn’t have much tact and would probably call her out when she starts acting that way.

Now, she and MC. No matter what I do, they always end up being close. The only time where they weren’t was during my second playthrough of Operation Nope. I’ve said before that she appreciates when MC calls her out on being irrational and is honest. She also applauds MC when she helps keep the peace in the group. Even during Operation Nope, as long as you stay loyal to Noah and are honest with your feelings, she won’t be that upset with you. I think she had a lot of respect for MC and her opinions on things. 

Final Thoughts:

Hope is a flawed character, but she’s not a villain like some people have painted her out to be. Her and Noah weren’t a good couple at all and because of the pressure of the show and her wanting to win, it got worse the longer they stayed together. After this, I’m debating about doing one of the guys. But it might not be who you expect.

[karlyanalora]

Burns Family Ships: Who Sailed and Who Sank

So, I’m preparing to write a fic about the Rescue Bots ten years after the show ends. We know Cody was eleven and Graham had just completed his doctorate, there ages in my fic will be approximately 21 for Cody, early 30′s for his siblings, and 65 for Chief Burns.

Naturally, I the writer must figure out who is married by now and to who. The show strongly hinted to some possibilities, so lets explore those: 

Hayley & Kade: Let’s look at the facts in this relationship. Hayley finds Kade obnoxious (not that I entirely blame her) and he’s been trying to ask her out for years before she finally says yes. First off, she doesn’t give him the decency of a first date until he saves her life in his cool Rescue Bot tech. Then she flirts with “Cole” and asks him out to lunch (not realizing this is prematurely aged Cody) despite the fact she is already in a relationship with Kade. More often than not, she is upset with Kade.

Now Hayley is an awesome person and wonderful preschool teacher. But wife material? I don’t think so. That flirting with “Cole” is a red flag. Besides, she can’t stand Kade now and he’s constantly having to chase her. Honestly, i think she likes Heatwave as a person more than she likes Kade. I think this ship has sunk even before it left the harbor.

Frankie & Cody: Do I even need to list all the reasons they’d start courting right out of high school? They’ve grown apart and come back together. Strong mutual respect for each other and shared major life changing experiences and secrets. They have the same values and dedication to the bots. Oh, this ship sailed!

Taylor & Dani: At first glance this ship has more hope. Taylor seems pretty nice. But he does seem to have an awful lot of accidents in flight, a lot more than can be chalked up to chance and not poor skills. He’s also seen to allow himself to be roped into dangerous and stupid stunts by the Mayor. Not a lot of common sense, which is very important for the Burns family.

Also, he’s seen to be thinking about leaving Griffin Rock and we know in his last appearance his relationship with Dani was rocky. He did ask her out on a date at the end of the episode, but that seems to be only because she saved his butt again. He’s only seen twice interacting with Dani outside of him getting rescued. Even Hayley and Kade interact more than that. I’m getting vibes of a “I’ll piggy back on this strong woman who bales me out” from Taylor.

Also, I don’t think he’s to fond of having Blades around all the time. While Blades and Dani are purely platonic, he is going to be part of her everyday life until the day Dani dies. Dani is not ditching Blades, and I think Taylor would prefer to live without a giant robot living with him. This ship has sunk.

Amy & Graham: Out of all the woman mentioned on this post, we see the least of Amy. But what we do see speaks volumes. She chooses to come to this crazy island and just rolls with it. The Rescue Bots are sentient beings? Cool! The island is Antarctica? How can I help?

Most importantly, she loves Graham just the way he is. She loves his brain and his sweet, meek demeanor. She is interested in what he is interested in and doesn’t want him to pretend to be anything he isn’t. When the island is in danger, she gives until she can give no more. To the point of working herself past exhaustion to keep a force field going. She’s there to greet Chief when he gets out of the hospital, something neither Hayley or Taylor showed up for. From what I’ve seen, this ship has sailed.

In conclusion, Graham and Cody are happily married to their sweethearts. Dani and Kade are still looking for love. And I have plans for them...

[fizzingwizard]

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender,  but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it.  How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

[carewyncromwell]

“You never know when you're gonna meet someone, And your whole wide world in a moment comes undone -- You're just walking around and suddenly Everything that you thought that you knew about love is gone... You find out it's all been wrong...

And all my scars don't seem to matter anymore 'Cause they led me here to you...”

~“Start of Something Good” by Daughtry

x~x~x~x

Atticus Grimsley Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier hadn’t gone to Hogsmeade village very much. The Ravenclaw Prefect had always been hyper-aware of how much his family legacy was placed squarely on his shoulders -- as the only son of the family not currently in Azkaban for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Atticus was the one who could bring his family the esteem his father so thought they were entitled to. Atticus being Sorted into Ravenclaw alone had broken a precedent, so Wulfric Lestrange was all the more strict in his expectations for his only child.

This time, however, Atticus told himself, there wasn’t much choice in the matter. He had to have the oral report ready for Binns, and his partner had set their meeting place as the Three Broomsticks. That didn’t mean Atticus would ever tell his father any details about the assignment -- he could just imagine how very displeased Wulfric would be, knowing his son had to engage with a Muggle-born like Robert Bellamy.

Atticus brought an entire heavy stack of books from the library with him, all of which were recommendations from Madame Pince. To his surprise, the school librarian actually seemed oddly pleased that Atticus was working with Robert.

“He seems to be a very bright boy, and yet he seems determined to not show it,” she said, sounding almost petulant. “Filius has said Mr. Bellamy likes reading -- that his marks are quite high, even despite his obsession with Quidditch and his penchant for trouble. And yet the faculty’s said he frequently holds back during class demonstrations, and in the last five years, I have never seen him study in the library. I see his friends in here plenty, but Mr. Bellamy? He’ll practically sneak in, pick up his books, and then leave as quickly as possible. I almost wonder if he’s actively trying to avoid being seen here...”

She smiled indulgently at Atticus. “Perhaps you might be able to get that boy to actually take pride in something other than chucking Quaffles around.”

Atticus wasn’t entirely sure how in the world he’d ever do that, even if he wanted to. After all, Robert was Barty Gilbert’s best friend -- Atticus didn’t want anything to do with Barty, and Robert was deathly loyal to him. But even with this, he had to admit, something about Robert intrigued him. Madame Pince thought that Robert was determined not to show he was smart, and yet when Atticus challenged him, he launched into a whole history lecture on the Witch Trials that could’ve put Binns himself to shame. Robert had even taken out a bunch of Muggle books on the subject over the summer and read them before coming to school, so that he’d understand the material in depth. Still, Pince’s assessment made Atticus feel a bit better for having seen Robert as a dumb jock -- he never really had stood out much to Atticus before, except as Barty Gilbert’s sidekick. Yet Atticus couldn’t help but wonder...why would someone who was Sorted into Ravenclaw, and therefore valued wisdom, knowledge, and learning, actively try to downplay how talented he was? Perhaps it was the thought of a mystery Atticus could unravel, but he wanted to know why.

When Atticus arrived at the Three Broomsticks, the stack of books under his arms, he found Robert sitting at a table, two butterbeers placed in front of him and the seat across from him. Standing beside the table were his best friends, pretty, ginger-haired Cecelia and tall, auburn-haired Barty -- Cecelia was pulling lightly at Robert’s arm despite him sitting down, chatting animatedly to him, and Robert was grinning broadly.

“...now, Ceci!” he said. “I doubt Atticus Lestrange would be much the sort to want to talk homework while trying on robes at Gladrag’s. You and Barty go on ahead -- you lot’ll have more money to buy something cool anyhow..”

At the sound of his own name, Atticus couldn’t help but hang back. Not only did he feel awkward about interrupting, but part of him really preferred the thought of not interacting with Barty more than he had to. He didn’t like the weird, irrational ball of dislike that would well up in his throat whenever he looked Barty in the eye.

Barty was blushing slightly, but the mention of his friend being low on money made him frown.

“If you want something, I could buy it for you,” he said in a very quiet, but earnest voice. “It could be an early birthday present...”

But Robert waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, mate, I don’t need anything. Now go on -- I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

Cecelia was frowning too. She exchanged a look with Barty, looking faintly hesitant, but finally released Robert’s arm.

“All right,” she sighed airily. “Be sure to invite Atticus along too after you’re done, all right?”

This startled Atticus. Robert looked uncomfortable.

“Invite him to Gladrag’s?” he sad, trying to play it off with humor. “Not exactly a party spot, Ceci.”

“Invite him to hang out with us,” Cecelia corrected him.

Robert frowned deeply. “What? Ceci...I get that you’re trying to be polite...but every time Lestrange gets within ten feet of Barty, he looks at him like he ran over his cat.”

Barty sighed and then gave a reluctant nod of agreement. “You know he doesn’t like me, Cecelia. I don’t even really know why, aside from his dad not liking my parents...”

Atticus felt like his stomach was being squeezed uncomfortably. Part of him wanted to just leave the pub all together -- but what Cecelia said next made him give pause.

“Barty, you’ve always said you feel like he must be lonely, sometimes. And Robert, you said the same thing, right after you first collided with Atticus, remember? ‘He should be smiling,’ you said. ‘His face doesn’t look right, somehow.’”

Atticus straightened up slightly. He understood that feeling. It was the same feeling he had when he first met Barty -- that his eyes weren’t right, that his smile and voice weren’t right. And yet the sentiment here...also came across as oddly sweet too, in a weird way.

“I was eleven years old, Ceci -- eleven-year-olds say dumb things,” said Robert in a voice that attempted to sound off-hand, but instead came out rather evasive.

“I don’t think it was dumb at all,” said Cecelia very firmly. “You felt sorry for him, and you didn’t even know him that well.”

“It was rather cool of you, Rob,” said Barty, smiling proudly at his best friend.

Robert, however, sidestepped the praise.

“It was a stated fact, not me trying to be nice,” he said in a very grounded, modest tone of voice. “I don’t get why a guy who’s as smart as he is can’t loosen up a little and have some fun once in a while. He can’t be happy, being so...”

He trailed off, his dark eyes drifting down to his mug of butterbeer.

‘Strange?’ Atticus finished in his own head dully, thinking of how everyone else in school tended to nastily play off of his name.

As soon as he thought it, though, another word echoed over his mind.

“You really are too grim for your own good…”

Atticus felt that weird, sad kind of deja vu ripple over him for a second time.

Cecelia sighed tiredly. “As always, you’re determined to play off the best parts of yourself.”

She turned to Barty. “...I guess we should go. Play nice with Atticus, Rob.”

“Yes, Mum,” Robert shot back with a playful smirk.

Barty grinned over his shoulder at Robert before leaving with Cecelia, his cheeks touched with a blush as he looped his arm around hers.

Atticus watched them leave -- then, swallowing back the lump in his throat, he finally approached the table where Robert was still sitting.

“...Hello,” he said stiffly.

Robert looked up, only mildly startled.

“Afternoon,” he greeted.

Noticing the books in Atticus’s arms, he held out his hands. “Here -- let me take those.”

He immediately took the stack, lifting it with significantly more ease than Atticus had and putting it down on the table.

Atticus glanced at the mug of butterbeer placed at the spot left aside for him. Noticing the glance, Robert frowned.

“Do you not like butterbeer?” he asked. “You struck me as the type of person who would...”

“I do,” said Atticus very quickly. “...It’s one of my favorites.”

He slowly lowered himself down into his seat, still feeling oddly hesitant. It had been so weird hearing Robert talk about him with his friends. Most of it wasn’t surprising -- after all, Atticus and Robert had rarely talked largely because of Robert being Barty’s best friend -- but the thought that Robert had actually expressed concern about him despite that...was kind of surreal.

“...You thought I’d be the type to like butterbeer?” he asked.

Robert shrugged as he took a sip, his dark eyes drifting up toward the ceiling. “Don’t most people like it?”

“I suppose they do,” granted Atticus.

He picked up his mug and took a long sip himself. It warmed him up from head to toe, and he couldn’t help but relax slightly.

Robert looked Atticus up and down briefly, cocking his eyebrows.

“You’re awfully overdressed,” he said lightly.

Atticus raised his eyebrows rather coolly in return. “I’m sorry -- I suppose I could’ve ripped the knees out of my trousers, before coming.”

Robert blinked. Then, to Atticus’s complete surprise, he actually burst out laughing.

“So you can joke!” he said. “Merlin...and here I wondered if I’d have to be serious the entire time...”

Atticus raised an eyebrow. “Is that something you can do? Be completely serious?”

Robert smirked slightly. “Of course. I just don’t fancy doing it that much.”

“Not like me, you mean.”

“Definitely not like you.” Realizing what he said could be considered offensive, Robert then added, “...You’re a smart guy, Lestrange, don’t get me wrong. I guess I just don’t get why someone as smart as you would be willing to settle.”

Atticus looked down at the books on the table and then back up at Robert, his eyebrows knitting over his blue eyes.

“And I don’t quite understand why someone as smart as you tries to hide it,” he said straightforwardly. “I mean, someone who can do lectures like the one you came up with on the fly the other day could easily become a professor someday...yet you don’t tutor, or participate in class...you don’t participate in any of our classes, by choice. And when you do...I reckon you’re holding back.”

Robert snorted. “I don’t hold back on the Dueling Field -- I don’t love getting my arse handed to me that much.”

Atticus couldn’t completely bite back a laugh. Robert was actually pretty funny, too.

Robert took another sip of butterbeer, his expression slowly becoming a bit more serious.

“I just don’t see the point in broadcasting my marks or how much I know, that’s all,” he said simply. “I learn so that I can be of use -- not to show off. Knowledge is power. With it, you can fix people’s problems and make the world better. I don’t need to win awards or accolades for my academics -- I just want to know as much as I can and use that knowledge for good.”

Atticus’s expression softened somewhat. “That’s...actually really admirable.”

Robert shrugged. “It’s how I feel is all. Just because I play Quidditch doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with getting attention.”

“You don’t seem uncomfortable about the attention,” said Atticus.

“Well, it’s not just me, is it? Even when I get attention, it’s attention for the team, not me. And any attention I do get, I get for helping out my mates. It feels good to be what they need, that’s all it is.”

Atticus’s blue eyes narrowed slightly as he brought his mug of butterbeer up to his lips again.

“...You really are determined to play off the best parts of yourself.”

Robert straightened up noticeably. Atticus couldn’t help but grin, seeing how effectively he’d startled him. 

“Will you be all right with presenting what you’ve already researched?” he asked. “I reckon the class would probably find a lecture about both the wizarding and Muggle perspectives of the Witch Trials really interesting...and it would almost surely earn us an O.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to teach the rest of our class with you?”

“Well, since you’re so critical of Professor Binns’s teaching style, perhaps it’s right you show everyone how it should be done,” said Atticus smugly.

Robert’s lips curled into a broad smirk. “Is that a dare, Lestrange?”

Atticus’s own mouth also spread into a wry smile. “You could always refuse to accept it.”

“You know full well I won’t,” said Robert, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “All right, old boy -- we’ll be Professors Lestrange and Bellamy for a class, then. And if we don’t get an O, I’ll dress like you for an entire month.”

Atticus couldn’t hold back his own laughter. “Careful -- I might be tempted to get an E just to see that!”

[skygirl5]

12 Prompts of Christmas - #10 Santa

TEN - Santa

 Standing on the New York City sidewalks wearing jeans and an oversized red Santa coat, Richard Castle gathered together the group of pre-teens trailing behind him and lined them up against the side of the building to address them. They were all festively dressed in some way: one girl had a headband that also mimicked elf ears, another had a hair clip fashioned out of a Christmas wrap bow, and a third wore a festive sweater beneath her purple coat. Rick’s own child was fully decked out with a green ribbon in her hair, Christmas tree shaped earrings, and bells tied onto her shoes with red ribbons.

Smiling down at them, he asked, “Okay ladies, are we ready?”

“Yeah!” they chorused back to him.

“Great. Then we’re all ready to go but remember: stay close to me while we’re inside. You wouldn’t want someone to accidentally think you’re a police officer,” he told them with a dramatic wink.

“Dad,” his daughter, Alexis, groaned.

Rick held up a finger signaling for her to hold on a moment. Then, he donned his red Santa hat and from his pocket he pulled out a white fake beard which he hooked on using loops that went over his ears. Once it was in place, he reminded her, “Not Dad—Santa.”

Now fully outfitted, Rick led the parade of kids into the police station, proud he was getting to spend his afternoon not only helping the hard-working members of the NYPD, but also teaching impressionable young girls an important lesson about giving back and being kind.

Inside the police station Rick walked up to the welcome desk and pleasantly said, “Good afternoon.”

The cop at the desk eyed him a bit suspiciously and asked, “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, I called ahead. Richard Castle. The elves and I are here to deliver Christmas cards to the brave officers of the NYPD,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing towards the four girls clustered around him, who each held a shopping bag filled with goodies.

Now smiling, the female officer nodded and reached for the telephone on her desk. “Ah, right. Hold on, I’ll call an escort for you.”

“Thank you very much.”

The group waited patiently for about five minutes before a woman dressed in a black business suit approached them and asked, “Hi, I’m Denise from PR; are you from Spenser Academy?”

“That’s us!” one of the girls exclaimed.

The woman smiled at her, then addressed the group as a whole, “Well on behalf of the NYPD I’d like to thank you for your generous gifts. What have you brought us today?”

“We have about three dozen holiday cards and some handmade ornaments and decorations to hang up if that’s okay,” Rick said to Denise.

“Absolutely! We appreciate everything you’re willing to give to us. Let’s go to the third floor, okay? they haven’t had any Christmas visitors yet.”

“Have you had many other schools visit this year?” Rick asked as they shuffled their way towards the elevator. He knew there were several other groups from Alexis’s grade as well as the one above hers participating in the holiday cheer project, though some were donating décor and cards to fire stations and hospitals as well as the NYPD. He also believed other private schools in the city were participating in similar projects.

“Just one other one here so far, but I’ve had several others at other precincts.”

“That’s nice. It’s such an important time of year to give back.”

“I agree. You’re a teacher at the school?”

Rick checked and put his hand on Alexis’s shoulder. “No, no—parent volunteer. This is my daughter, Alexis.”

“Hi,” the young redhead said demurely.

Denise smiled down at her. “Hello. Well, we do appreciate your time.”

Rick nodded in appreciation. He had always enjoyed volunteering at Alexis’s school and never really thought of it as a chore or even an obligation. As someone who loved children, he found it a joy. Plus, as his career enabled him to be both a full-time writer and a full-time stay-at-home Dad, he always felt a duty to volunteer for what he could because he knew that many of Alexis’s classmates had two working parents, and it was not always possible for them to chaperone field trips or organize bake sales like he could.

When the elevator’s doors opened again and Denise led the way out into the hall, Rick asked her, “What department is this?”

“The homicide division.”

“Ah,” Rick said hesitantly. While he wouldn’t have minded poking around that floor, he wasn’t sure it was entirely appropriate for ten- and eleven-year-old girls. Nevertheless, their visit was not intended to be a long one, so he stepped forward and turned so he could address his group. “Well, okay ladies, here we go. How about…Paige and Hannah hand out the cards while Alexis, Ryder, and I hang up some decorations, okay?”

Their girls swapped their shopping bags around to match up with Rick’s duty assignments and then the two with the holiday cards scampered off. Meanwhile, Denise directed Rick and the remaining two girls to a room centrally located on the floor. “You can hang your decorations here in the break room.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” Rick said to her and led the way inside the room. It was empty save for an officer talking on a cell phone, who walked out the opposite door when they entered. Rick led the girls over to one of the tables in the room and they opened up their shopping bags and began to unload the decorations. From the bag he carried, Rick pulled out a few rolls of tape. He handed one to Ryder and told her to hang up the snowflake decorations they had on the break room windows. Then, he turned to his daughter and asked, “Do you want to hang up the snowmen?”

She nodded. “Yeah, let’s put some on the cabinets,” she said, pointing towards the kitchenette in the room which had a sink along with a counter that had a coffee maker, toaster oven, and microwave. Off to the side was a refrigerator, all of which was surrounded by cabinets.

“Sounds good.”

Alexis put a snowman centrally located on each of the doors to the bottom row of cabinets. Then Rick brought a chair over from one of the tables so she could climb up on it and reach the upper cabinets. She was still too short, though, so he had to help hang the last row of snowmen.

He was about halfway done when he heard the breakroom door swing open and a female’s voice say, “Oh! I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.”

“Yep, sorry; we’ll be done in a minute,” Rick said as he struggled to get the sticky tape out of the dispenser.

“We’re decorating!” Alexis said.

“I can see that,” said the female voice.

With the last snowman tacked into place, Rick stepped back, helped his daughter off the chair, then quickly grabbed it so it was not in the way if the woman wanted to access the kitchenette counter. “Sorry about that,” he said again, only glancing briefly in her direction, “Alexis, what else do you want to hang up?”

“Let’s put the stars on the refrigerator,” she suggested.

Rick hesitated and glanced over his shoulder to see what the woman was doing. When he saw her at the coffee pot, he agreed with, “Okay, but let’s make sure not to stand in this nice lady’s way.”

“Oh, it’s fine; I don’t need to get into the fridge,” she assured them. With her mug now full of coffee, she turned to face them and Rick finally met her eye. Immediately, he felt like he’d been smacked in the chest. Her face…he knew her face, but from where?

“Are you a police officer?” Alexis asked the woman as she hung up the stars.

“A detective, actually.”

“Ohh!! I’m in fifth grade, but I might want to be a detective when I grow up—a private detective, just like Sherlock Holms!”

“Oh wow, that’s neat!” the detective said.

“Santa, I finished hanging the snowflakes. Santa? Santa!”

“Wha—oh, sorry Ryder,” Rick apologized, when Ryder tugged on the sleeve of his coat. He’d been too busy staring at the female detective wondering where he’d seen her before. “What do you want to hang up next?”

“Um…maybe some of the garland chain along that window ledge?”

“Sure thing.” Rick walked over to the shopping bags and pulled out the long chain of “garland” the girls had made, which consisted of round circles of alternating light and green construction paper all stapled together to form a chain. “Alexis why don’t you come and help Ryder once you’re done with those stars?”

“Okay, Da—Santa!” She grinned at him then ran past him to help her schoolmate.

When Rick turned back around, he was pleasantly surprised to see the female detective was still in the breakroom, eyeing him curiously. “Sorry, ah, this is our first year as a decorating committee; we’re a little rough around the edges.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I think what you’re doing is really nice. Are you…are you also associated with the two girls running around giving away Christmas cards?”

The writer frowned behind his Santa beard. “Oh no are they running? I told them not to run.”

She laughed and said, “It’s fine,” but the words barely registered in his mind because with her laugh came the solid recognition he’d been seeking. Yes, he definitely recognized her, but he could hardly believe it was her—her—the woman he’d encountered so briefly their interaction felt more like a dream.

So caught up by the sudden recognition, Rick failed to realize he’d gasped, “Oh—it’s you!” out loud until her brow wrinkled and she asked, “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, sorry. I mean—you’re Kate, aren’t you?”

Her brow crinkled further. “Do we know each other?”

“Yea—oh, sorry. Crap! Sorry!” he grunted as he tried to strip off his fake beard and hat, which until that moment he had forgotten that he was wearing. No wonder she didn’t recognize him!

With his face fully exposed her confused expression melted into one of surprise. “Oh! Rick. H-hi.”

“Hi,” he echoed, his grin a bit dopey. Once again, he had run into this mysterious, beautiful woman by chance and he could not say he was remotely disappointed about it. Since they’d first met, five Decembers prior, he’d thought about her occasionally over the years, mostly over the holidays, but occasionally during trips out to his beach house since the water combined with the vacation atmosphere connected it and the lake cabin in his mind. He’d never gotten to the point of actually trying to find her, but he’d thought about it several times. Now, it appeared fate was nudging him and he wasn’t going to deny it.

“We’re done!”

His daughter announcing the completion of their task pulled Rick back to the present and he stammered a bit. “Oh, um, ah, yeah—is there anything left to hang up, girls?”

“No,” Alexis said. She gazed around the room and frowned slightly, adding, “I guess we didn’t have that much to decorate with.”

“Oh no—I think it looks much more festive in here,” Kate chimed in.

Rick gave her a grateful expression then turned back to the girls. “Okay, ladies, why don’t you gather up the bags and tape dispensers and then let’s go find the others, okay?”

“Thank you for decorating our break room,” Kate said to them before heading towards the door. Before she could open it, Rick stepped towards her.

“Wait! I mean, um, how are you?”

Looking slightly amused she said, “I’m okay, how are you?”

“Good, good. Um, I was just…well, wondering if I might be able to take you out for coffee and, um, pick your brain a little bit about the NYPD. Always doing research,” he confessed with a little shrug. In reality his heart was racing, and he felt like a teenager again. God, what was he doing? He wasn’t even trying to ask her out on a date as his romantic situation was…complicated…at present.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “If I recall correctly: you already did that.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “But you weren’t a detective then.”

She chuckled lightly and then waited about seven seconds before agreeing, “Okay, sure. Coffee.”

“Great!” Rick said, elated. He fumbled for a moment, trying to get his wallet out of his back pocket when the bulky Santa coat hung down over it, but he managed. Then he handed her a business card and said, “Call me, please? we’ll set something up.”

She took the card with a nod. By that time, the girls had collected their bags and had joined them at the breakroom door, so Kate pushed it open and let them all walk out. As they did so, Alexis wished her a merry Christmas and she reciprocated with, “Merry Christmas to you, too; and thanks again for the decorations.”

“You’re welcome!” Alexis said cheerfully.

After giving Rick a head nod, Kate walked off. He watched her disappear into the crowd of her coworkers until the high-pitched squeal of a ten-year-old girl drew his attention and he knew he needed to get back into chaperone-mode before the girls caused too much more chaos for the homicide floor.