#and i appreciate the bravery it took for you to reach out and check up on me

[neonacidtrip]

we haven't spoken in a very long time, but i dreamt of you last night, so I couldn't help but think of you. I'm not sure you remember me, but i hope life is treating you well these days. take care.

I'm not sure what to say, but I can promise you I have not forgotten you. My time on Tumblr has been a mess full of hiatuses, I admit, but it will always be a place where I met some very wonderful friends, including you. With 100% honesty, I can say the friends I made here are some of the best friends I have ever had, even though most of us don't talk anymore.

It doesn't matter how often I speak with people, or if we never speak again. I'll always remember you, and I'll always think fondly of you and hope that life is treating you gently and kindly.

I hope you had a nice (or at the very least an okay) dream, and I'm glad to know you still remember me, too, regardless of all else.

Take care, love <3

[crowfeather-ed]

Hello!! I would like to formally introduce you all to SkyClan's Trails; a Warrior Cats roleplay hosted by both me and my good friend @city-glow. We've been working on this for a while (like 2 days) but we're VERY excited to bring you into this little story we've conducted. We hope you'll join us!

Here is the link to join

And below the cut; the premise. Please check it out!

Shrikestar leapt atop the Rockpile, overlooking his bruised warriors as he called for their attention with a great caterwaul. SkyClan's warriors gathered around him, their eyes shining with dignity despite the tiredness of their bodies. They had fought well, all of them. 

"SkyClan!" He started, "Thanks to your bravery, we've successfully killed the fox that was looking to invade our camp. I know we've had several reports of unusual fox activity," He stated, shifting uncomfortably from the ragged bite that had been dangerously close to his throat. Unusual fox activity was an understatement. During the past moon, at least three foxes had been spotted in the area, and they suspected one of them had cubs. They'd found a kittypet, a friendly tom named Zephyr, torn to pieces and partially eaten by fox cubs within their territory. 

"I am grateful to you all for defending our kits and elders so bravely." His tone turned more somber as he lowered his head, allowing his grief to show. "I would especially like to thank Duskpaw. He led the fox to its death, losing his own life in the process. He hunts with Starclan now having shown the bravery of a true warrior." 

Shrikestar glanced with great sadness at Appleface and Songlark grooming the still body of their son. Duskpaw had been the only kit in their litter to live up to six moons... and now he walked with Starclan alongside his smaller siblings. He had been clever and quick on his paws and he would have made an excellent warrior. His loss was a tragedy.

A murmur of appreciation rose from his clanmates, with some calling out Duskpaw's name triumphantly towards the sky. Appleface looked up towards his clanmates, his eyes heavy with emotion.

Honeypebble, the pretty golden deputy who had also been a part of the patrol and had ended up getting particularly nasty bites torn out of her cheek and flank, stepped forward. 

"We must get the body of the fox out of camp urgently," she said. Her eyes were glassy with pain, and she swayed on her paws, but her voice was steady. "The fox was incredibly sick, and we don't want whatever it was carrying to spread."

"Sick?" Shrikestar frowned. He jumped down next to his deputy and padded over to the body of the fox only a few tail lengths away. He hadn't quite gotten a good look at it during the fight and now that he was seeing it from up close he could see what Honeypebble meant. The fox was nothing more than skin and bones, its jaw hanging wide open and covered in drool. The sight of cats for the starving creature must have stimulated its appetite. The thought made Shrikestar shudder. Its fur was disgusting, looking matted and with large patches of it missing along its sides. Its eyes were still wide open and were a milky white color that unsettled the SkyClan leader so much he took a few pawsteps back. 

“Yes, very well. We’ll carry it out further into the woods and bury it.” He decided. With a flick of his tail, Shrikestar motioned for a few warriors to begin carrying the body. He hesitated as he watched them, though eventually settled for going back to his den. His body ached and the bite wound near his neck burned. Some rest would do him some good. 

He walked past Duskpaw’s vigil and reached his den, letting himself fall into the soft moss and curling up so his tail covered his eyes and nose. Heartbeats pass, yet he could not sleep. Foxes invading SkyClan’s camp… never had this happen before. As a kit, he’d heard stories of SkyClan being overrun by rats and chased out of their camp until they’d all gone soft with kittypet food or drifted out into the wilderness, forgetting their clan heritage. It had been the will of StarClan, back then, to see SkyClan gone for good. Was it happening again? Was his clan in danger?

He drifted into an uneasy sleep, plagued by visions of his clanmates in the jaws of hungry-eyed foxes.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Carrying the Banner Chapter 5: Caged Songbird- Oscar Delancey x Hilda Beckett

Word Count: 2.1k

Hilda stayed mostly hidden from plain sight as she watched the chaos of the strike intently. She’d been there almost since the beginning of the strike, but now that things were starting to heat up, she was interested. She flinched as she watched one of the newsies run up to one of the bulls only to be struck down by his baton. Sympathy coursed through her as she watched as everything (for lack of a better term) went to hell. 

“Cheese it fellas! It’s the bulls!” Jack shouted, running for a fire escape. Hilda shook her head in disbelief at him, but her attention was quickly captured by another newsie, one she knew to be Crutchie (he’d introduced himself to her while she was in Manhattan a few months ago checking something out for Quinn). She watched as Crutchie yelled for Jack desperately, only for the boy who’d gotten in her face just yesterday grab his crutch away from him, knocking him to the ground with it. Hilda couldn’t just let him get hurt like that. Without a word she ran towards them in a brief moment of bravery, only to get knocked down by a bull.

“Not so fast there, missy,” he snapped as she laid on the ground in pain. To keep her subdued he landed a few hits on her before eventually slapping cuffs on her wrists while she struggled against him. As she was dragged towards the refuge cart she screamed for Quinn, Jack, Gemma, anyone to help her, but it was no use. 

She was thrown in the cart, which already held a few other battered newsies. She laid there in pain, watching as the boy from yesterday and another one she assumed to be his brother each grabbed Crutchie by one arm and tossed him into the cart. The boy’s eyes met hers and she shot him a glare, too weak to move at the moment, before turning away. She heard him huff before slamming the cart shut, and off they went to the refuge. 

After arriving at the refuge and making it through the gates, the boy opened the back of the carriage. His brother began pulling kids out, manhandling Hilda once he got to her. 

“Lay off it Morris,” the boy said, hopping down from the back of the carriage. “I’ve got this one.” With that, he set a hand on Hilda’s shoulder and began leading her inside. The girl flinched away from his hand but continued walking. She was smart enough to know when to not fight back. The boy led her to a cell, holding it open for her as he avoided eye contact. Hilda shouldered past him then turned to face him once she’s in the cell, holding out her still cuffed hands. 

“You gonna take these off?” The boy reached into his pocket and took out a master key to the cuffs, his other hand holding up her arm. They unlocked with a small click.

“Yeah,” he muttered softly, still trying to avoid her eyes. Hilda still managed to see a hint of guilt in his eyes. It didn’t sway her. 

“Much appreciated,” she smiled sarcastically before picking a bed and plopping down, rubbing her bruising cheek. It was only then that her eyes met his. 

“I don’t have to be nice, I can let my brother throw you around, you know,” he mentioned. 

“Such a gentleman,” she retorted sardonically. “So why didn’t you?” The boy looked down for a moment, then back up at her. 

“I’ll bring you food, just don’t cause a fuss and you’ll be fine,” he instructed, blatantly ignoring her question. His words confused Hilda, yet she still found herself nodding. The boy nodded and closed the cell door with a slam. His brows furrowed as he heard footsteps he recognized as his brother’s coming down the hall, and he had to think quickly. 

“And quit your fussing!” He shouted at her as if they’d just had an argument while locking the door. He then turned to Morris with a shake of the head. 

“She’s had it good, we can leave her to think,” he informed him, shoving the keys into his pocket before walking off with his brother. 

An hour or two went by, though in confinement it was hard for Hilda to tell. Eventually the girl heard footsteps walking towards her cell, then the boy appeared at the door. He was holding a tray that didn’t hold the regular bread and cold broth, he instead carried a plate of steaming chicken and mashed potatoes, the sides almost overflowing with vegetables, and in his other hand he held a cup of clean drinking water. He unlocked the cell door, opening it and holding it out to her quietly. Hilda’s eyes widened as she shot up, surprised by the food that he was presenting to her. 

“Holy shit Delancey,” she exclaimed quietly as she walked over to him. “I… you didn’t have to do all of this.” Yet, despite herself, she still found herself reaching for the plate. The boy’s eyes widened a bit, but a small smile graced his face. 

“Shh- shh,” he hushed her. “Call me Oscar. Now you gotta eat quick, I’m not supposed to be givin’ away my food.” As he spoke he handed her the plate before stepping inside, setting the water on a crate that served as a side table. Hilda’s brows furrowed as she stared at him. 

“Does that mean you haven’t eaten?” She asked worriedly. She knew she shouldn’t have been worried about him considering their differing positions here, but with the small kindness he just showed her, she couldn’t help it. The boy she now knew to be Oscar (she only really knew his last name as she’d never cared enough to listen when his first name floated around) stared at her incredulously for a moment. 

“Are you- worried about me?” He asked, confusion written across his face. “You’re in the dirtiest, saddest place in New York. You’re a prisoner, you have no one to be worried about.” His voice conveyed a tone of complete bewilderment as he spoke. 

“Well, considering most of what you’ve done since I’ve been here is be nice to me, I’d like to return the favor,” she answered simply, setting the place on the crate side table.

“I haven’t been very nice to you. There’s no favor for you to return,” he shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “C’mon, you gotta eat fast so I can take the plate, I don’t want you to get any lashes from Snyder or my brother to get ya with his rings.” Hilda nodded and sat down, starting to eat. After a few minutes she glanced at him. 

“You never answered my question earlier,” she mentioned. A nervous expression appeared on his face. 

“Your question?” He repeated as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. 

“Why are you being nice to me? Why didn’t you let your brother throw me around and why did you give me your dinner?” She reiterated. “It isn’t because I’m a girl because I saw your brother choke Gemma nearly to unconsciousness, so what is it?” Her question was met with silence for a few minutes. Hilda remained silent, too curious to change the subject. She watched as Oscar inhaled deeply, exhaling a sigh as his gaze fell to the ground. 

“I don’t know, this whole thing sucks… I hate it here- not as much as the kids that have to rot here, but I don’t like beatin’ on people, especially not kids, and especially not girls. I gotta do it, it’s expected of me. But I’m not like Morris, or Snyder, or Wiesel - or, at least, I try not to be. So far I’m doin kind of a lousy job,” he let out a pathetic laugh. “I beat on my own father during the trolley strike for Christ’s sake. Out here you’ve gotta make it to the top of the chain so you can’t be hurt like the kids at the bottom, but damn it sucks to be the one hurting the little guys.” He made a face at himself, like he was ashamed of the person he’d become. Then he shook his head and looked at her again. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be sayin’ that, I don’t deserve sympathy for what I do. I just- that’s why. I don’t want to hurt ya, I don’t want you to starve and get stomped into the dirt.” Hilda remained silent during his spiel, watching him intently as she processed what he said. 

“Have you ever thought about getting out?” She asked curiously. Oscar shook his head and glanced out of the barred window in her room.  

“I guess I just feel a little trapped,” he mumbled before looking back down at her. “You worry me a little, worried about the guy that has you locked up. The door has been open this whole time and you didn’t even make a break for it.” The girl’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and she turned to face the door, which was in fact completely open. He never closed it. 

“Huh…” she muttered in surprise, though she still made no effort to move and instead took a sip of her water. She couldn’t say exactly why she stayed. One part of her wanted to say it was because she assumed Oscar would just catch her if she tried to escape, but then she’d be lying to herself. Yet she couldn’t say exactly what it was, though. She looked at Oscar when he leaned against the empty bunk beside hers. 

“You’re from Staten, right?” He asked, making sure not to get too loud. “Those Staten girls are pretty tough I’ll tell you. I had a run in with Scout once and she almost had me in the hospital.” That made Hilda smirk. 

“Sounds about right for her. She doesn’t appreciate anyone messing with who or what she cares about. We all protect each other in that sense…” she trailed off, shoulders slumping a bit the more she thought about it. She couldn’t imagine how much Quinn would be worried about her right now. Oscar offered her a sympathetic look. 

“I’ll turn an eye when she eventually comes to break you out,” he said softly. “And if you want to send any letters I’ll take the walk to Staten for you.”

“You know, you’re a lot kinder than I originally took you for, Oscar,” she mentioned, then paused. “Oh, I’m Hilda by the way. Everyone usually just calls me Birdie.”

“Hilda,” he repeated, almost in a dreamy sigh. “What a beautiful name.” He laughed a little after a few seconds and shook his head. 

“People call me mouth breather,” he joked, remembering that Hilda had called him that just a day ago. The girl giggled softly, then shrugged. 

“To be fair, you were actually breathing out of your mouth when you got in my face” she defended lightheartedly. She watched as the boy had to physically hold back a laugh in an attempt to not be too loud. 

“You’re probably right, hence the nickname.” Hilda grinned as she finished eating. 

“Precisely.” Oscar leaned over and took the plate from her, a sigh leaving his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said, almost under his breath. “You won’t be here too long.”

“Do you think they’ll find it odd that you’ve visited me twice but there’s not a single bruise on me?” She asked curiously. The boy took a deep breath before shrugging.

“That’s a battle I’m willing to fight when I get there.” 

“If you need to hit me to make something believable, I can take it,” she offered. “I’ve been beat black and blue before, it won’t be any different.” Oscar shook his head quickly. 

“No- no I won’t be doing that,” he responded definitively as he made his way towards the door to the cell. “Don’t worry about it, alright?” Hilda hesitated for a moment, but ultimately nodded. Then, in yet another quick moment of bravery that day, she stood and walked over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight Oscar,” she whispered before walking back to her bed. If she had turned to look back at him at any point before reaching her bed, she would’ve seen the blush that covered Oscar’s face. Thankfully for him, she didn’t. He stepped out of the cell and closed it behind him before looking at the girl.  

“Goodnight Hilda,” he whispered back, though it seemed that she was already on the verge of falling asleep. So, he walked away as quietly as he could and let her rest.

[finelinevogue]

can we get a gang!harry blurb where the reader gets hurt and harry is panicking xx

when i say i live for this trope... i live for this trope

You were currently running through a warehouse, with your boyfriend Harry, shooting at anyone who was shooting at you. 

It had been just another ordinary day where you got kidnapped and used as bait for Harry. The gang, Mortem, that captured you owed Harry millions and thought they could get away with it by kidnapping you and threatening Harry into dropping their debt. Safe to say that wasn’t going to happen. You had been trained in hand-to-hand combat, self defence and gun work ever since Felix had kidnapped you. Harry was never going to let you be defenceless again, he promised. 

Mortem had not expected you to be able to fight back and hadn’t thought to check your bra for the tracking device in there. It took Harry less than 7 minutes to get to you, kiss you and then break you out. 

Lara had come, along with a large group of Harry’s men, as backup. Harry really didn’t need backup, but he wasn’t risking anything where you were involved. You had broken free with Harry easily, however you hadn’t realised Mortem had been clever enough to set up an ambush so now you were attempting to fight and shoot your way out of this mess. You hated that Lara was so coordinated with Harry, after so many years of training together. You admired Lara for her bravery and kindness, but you didn't appreciate the way she would make digging comments about you and sometimes even flirt around Harry himself. If Harry was aware that Lara said some flirtatious comments around him, he never let on because his heart was solely devoted to you. 

Running to find the exit of the Mortem warehouse, Lara called orders to split everyone into groups. You were running alongside a woman called Tris, who had trained you intensely the past few months. The aim was to disperse yourselves and make it harder for Mortem to catch and kill you all. Although you wanted to go home, Harry wasn’t leaving just yet. Harry was set on finding the leader and killing him for even saying your name out loud and Lara was going to go with him, but not before his money had been transferred back to him. Lara instructed your group to be stationed outside of the building to kill any Mortem strays you could, but mostly to protect Harry from any intruders or another ambush. 

Harry was at the front of the group, turning the corners first to check they were free. He waved his hand, signalling for the group to slow down as you approached a corner. 

"Okay. There are a group of guards around the corner. They'll be easy to take out, but we be prepared for any oncoming guards as we draw attention to ourselves." He looked around the huddle and saw everyone nodding their heads. "Lara and I will break first and take out the guards. The rest of you will either follow and cover us, or go to your designated stations. Okay?" 

You were at the back of the group and so you couldn't reach Harry. You wanted him to hug you and tell you it'll be okay, because even though you were getting better at fighting and defending yourself you were still terrified that you might never see him again.

You all faced towards the corner and then Harry and Lara made a run for it.

Your group shortly dispersed and ran to the entrance. Some of your group stayed inside to guard the door, whereas you, Tris and a few others ran outside to defend there. As you ran out, holding you gun up on high alert, you could see masses of guards heading your way - more than anyone was anticipating. You raised your gun up as your group got into a regular practiced formation. You took a quick final look inside the building and saw a trail of knocked out people where Lara and Harry must've been, before the door shut and locked behind you.

You hoped he was okay.

"On my command." You heard a man shout. Everyone simultaneously triggered their guns, your fingers shaking as you did so. You all waited until the charging gang were close enough - until they started firing their bullets. "Now!" The same man shouted. 

The first shot of your gun made your arms shake from the vibrations. You let out a sigh as you saw your bullet hit a man and watched him go down. Many of your group went down quickly, as Mortem’s fire power was a lot stronger than yours. You kept firing and shooting down a few people down, but it didn't seem like it was really make a difference as there were so many of them.

After 5 minutes you turned around to scan a view of the field, no Mortem members coming after you and none had made it successfully through the door yet. A lot of your group were down and injured, making you groan as you saw a few more cars, worthy of at least 20 Mortem gang members, driving closer to the warehouse. You picked up some guns off the floor and made sure they had sufficient amounts of bullets left in them.

"Tell me how bad this hurts." You heard one of the Mortem members say, turning around to see Tris struggling to get up. She was badly injured but had no fear in her eyes - as if she wasn’t scared of death. 

"No. You tell me." You spoke confidently, holding up your gun to shoot him down. He didn’t put up a fight as he went down instantly and ceased to make another movement. You ran over to Tris and give her an arm up. "You okay?" You asked, whilst bending down to pick up her gun with a dirty hand and give it to her.

"Yes. Thanks Y/N." You smiled at her. “Must’ve had pretty good training.” Her comment made you laugh. She was as narcissistic as your boyfriend. 

“Only the best.” 

“God, don’t tell Harry that.” She laughed before you heard Harry over the radio that Lara had stuffed in her outfit. You smiled, finding comfort in his voice. He was okay, hopefully.

"Report on ground 0, front entrance." You were about to reply but your heard the locking of a gun instead. Instinct told you to move, so you quickly turned around but by that time it was already was too late. The gun was aimed at Tris. 

As the gang member released the trigger and the bullet came flying, you pushed Tris out of the way and jumped in front of her instead. The bullet tore through the side of your stomach, making you scream in agony. The pain was unlike anything you’d ever felt. It was worse than death, because the torture was so slow. You lifted your head up to see Tris had shot the guard who shot you, but it was too late for you too. 

"Jesus Y/N.” Was all she could say, fumbling in front of you as she tried to process what to do next. 

"I said report on ground 0. Anybody." You could hear the desperation in Harry’s voice, most likely wondering whether you were okay, as he communicated again. You looked at Tris, her looking at you for an order of what to report back to Harry.

You cupped your hand over your wound, blood instantly staining your entire hand. You winced as your pressed it, thankful that the bullet was still inside of you otherwise you would have bled out completely by now. 

"Tell him - shit - that we've been compromised, but we're okay. Tell him to get the job done quickly and then go straight back to the house." You told Tris and she nodded, watching as your scrunched your eyes in pain as you attempted to bend over.

"Harry. This is ground 0. We have been compromised." Tris looked at you, "And Y/N's been hit pretty ba..." You snatched the comms of Tris, giving him a deathly glare.

"I'm fine H, don't listen to her. Get it done." You pulled away and winced as a sharp pain came from your side, throwing the radio to the side. Tris came and knelt behind your head, letting your head rest on his thighs to keep your airway open. There was no response from Harry, just radio silence. You knew that meant Harry was most likely stuck in a fight and you prayed he would be alright.

Tris ripped off part of her shirt and used it to apply pressure onto your wounded side. "This is bad Y/N." She looked sadly at you, ignoring the continuous fight that was breaking out behind you both. The approaching cars were getting closer and you weren’t going to be able to fight anytime soon. This fucking sucked.

"I'm glad, because if this is what good feels like them there's no fucking point in me living anymore." You laughed, trying to lighten the situation. Louder gunshots went off and you saw several Mortem men charging towards you both. Your instinct was to grab your gun, but you cried out in pain as you stretched your arm away from your side.

"Woah Y/N. No shitting way." Tris said, not allowing you to reach your gun. "Here. Let us get you some place safe." Tris gently lifted you up and guided you over behind a dumpster that was in a side alley, with some difficult may you add. "Ok don't move from here. And keep pressure on that wound." She passed you your gun in case you needed it and then she was gone.

The shooting lasted what seemed like an hour, but in reality was only 5 minutes. You started to feel weaker and you could no longer keep pressure on the wound, your strength diminishing by the second. Your eyes felt heavy and you could feel the individual beads of sweat running down your forehead. Your muscles ached and your head was cloudy. All you wanted was to be in a lush, rose scented, bath with Harry right now, instead of hiding behind a dumpster because you’ve got a bullet lodged in your stomach.

You hated that you got caught in these situations more than you wished to admit, but Harry was worth too much to you for you to ever wish that you were someone different or even with someone different. He was everything to you. The rock on your ring finger proved that much. You brought it to your lips and kissed it, as if you were kissing him, because you were starting to believe you weren’t going to make it through this one. 

Heavy footsteps could be heard running around the corner, stopping when they reached your alley and making your heart stop too. 

The footsteps were that quiet you couldn't hear them, but you could feel the vibrations on the floor getting more intense. Just as you were about to lock your gun, Harry emerged from the side of the dumpster. He let out a heavy sigh of relief and rushed over to you, sliding his knees down onto the floor until they hit your legs. He set his gun down to one side and got rid of yours too.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, whilst you let Harry help you sit up properly. You winced as he sat you up, as it opened you wound and stretched muscles that didn’t want to be stretched. "You were supposed to head back to the house."

"You really thought I was going to leave you here? As soon as Tris said you were hurt on the radio, I left Lara and ran straight out here to find you. I-I needed to know you were okay.” Harry kept contact with your eyes, cupping your cheek softly with his dirty and bloody fingers, even though your eyes were drooping more and more every second.

"Well I'm fine." You said, your stubbornness coming out.

"You're fine? Really?" He gave you a long questioning look. He quickly put pressure on your wound and you screamed out in pain, making a few tears drip from your eyes as he did so. He didn’t do it to be malicious. You knew that you needed continuous pressure on the wound, so you were grateful he was doing so. You swore under your breathe like a sailor and you could’ve sworn is cracked a smile from Harry.

"Harry." He wasn't listening to you, instead he focused on applying pressure to your bullet wound. With all your strength you raised your arm and cupped his cheek with your soft, but bloody, hand. "Hey, look. I’ll be okay. You're here now." You gently smiled at him as he leaned into your hand. You knew he often blamed himself for moments like these, so you tried everything to convince him otherwise. 

"I'm sorry." That was all he could say, until he took a pause. "I should've been with you. Protecting you. Keeping you safe. Instead I went with Lara to kill the bastard that dared taking you away from me." He looked so disappointed in himself, but there was so much underlying anger in his eyes.

"Harry, baby, look at me." You moved his face so he was looking at you. "Apart from this hurting like a bitch, I'm okay. I'm glad you’re here now and I'm..." You were cut off by gunshots. 

You'd never seen Harry move so fast to get his gun, pushing himself into you more to keep you as protected as possible. He looked around the dumpster and there were 4 guards coming your way. 

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath as he turned back to face you, lost in his own thoughts. 

"It's okay H. Go. Leave me."

"Don't be fucking stupid. I'm not leaving you." He said firmly, leaning into you more so he could press his forehead against yours. "So don't ever say things like that." He leaned back and kissed the top of your forehead a couple of times. 

"Okay but.." You tried.

"Stop it." He said.

"No, Harry listen." You made him look at you. "Will this help?" You asked, holding up a bomb that you’d managed to snatch away from Mortem. 

He looked down, smiling and softly shaking his head. He took the bomb from your hands and rolled it under the dumpster and onto the floor where the oncoming guards were walking. He did it as quietly as possible so the guards didn't notice. Harry came behind you and scooped you up bridle style, but still crouched low to the floor. You winced at the movement on your side. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry merely apologised. 

“Stop apologising.” You sighed as your head found refuge against his chest, keeping as tight a hold as you could on your wound.

“I’ll make up for it tonight instead then.” Harry smirked, obviously waiting for the right moment and the men to get closer to you both.

“Do you ever not think with your dick?” You asked and he had to bite back a bellowing laugh.

“Not when it comes to you.” You rolled your eyes at him, listening carefully when he gave you the detonator and said as soon as he started to run then press it. 

When the guards had felt close enough you looked at Harry and he whispered, ‘Blow them to hell, baby.”

You pressed the detonator and Harry sprinted as fast as he could away from the alley and into the clear. The sudden movement made you mind go even foggier. Harry didn't put you down until you were safely in one of his cars that had since arrived for backup. Harry started to notice you loose consciousness when you went limp in his arms. 

The last thing you remember was Harry trying so desperately to keep you awake.

••••

You slowly squinted your eyes open due to the bright light above you.

The first thing you noticed was how you were in the hospital wing of Harry’s house. It was cold in here. You looked over to your right and saw you were hooked up to an IV drip, a beeping sound from the heart machine going off in the background. You looked to your left and saw Harry sat in a chair, eyes closed, arms crossed protectively and sleeping peacefully.

Before you could call to wake up him, you heard somebody walk across the room to your bed. It was Lara and she he looked… disappointed.

"Hi, how're you feeling?" She came and stood next to your bed. You shifted lightly in the bed, wincing when you remembered about your abdomen. Lara took it as a cue to sit down on the bed next to you.

"I've been better." She frowned at your comment. "But I've also been worse."

"Look Y/N I'm sorry. I should’ve manned everyone better. Should’ve made sure you were more protected."

You reached out for her hand and she gave you it, softly rubbing the skin on the back of her hand to sooth her from her worries. Lara wasn’t at fault here. Yes she was in charge of training and positioning of the members of the gang, but it wasn’t her fault what happened at the warehouse. No doubt Harry was pissed off though.

"You were only did what you always do." You reminded her. "Don’t worry about me. Plus I'm just one person." You joked.

"Not to him.” Lara tilted her head at Harry.

"Yeah." You nodded quietly, knowing that was very true. Lara stood up to leave, but before she did she bent down to give you a hug, making you since into the hug as your side was very sore.

"That's enough Lara.“ Lara pulled away to see that Harry was now standing up protectively next to you. When he was next to you, it made you feel so much better. You felt unstoppable.

“Sorry.. both of you.” Lara admitted, before walking out of the hospital room and leaving you and Harry alone.

"If I had the strength to hit you right now I would. Lara did all she could.” You tutted at Harry, looking up to him with slight anger in your eyes that he was blaming it on her.

"I know. It just shouldn’t have been like that." Harry sighed, coming to sit next to you on your bed but warily so that he didn’t hurt you. "Lara is right about one thing though. You're not just one person to me. God, when I think about how I was so close to loosing you… I— I..” Harry couldn’t even finish his sentence without getting choked up about it all.

"I love you baby.” You told him to distract him. Harry smiled before leaving down and pulling your chin up towards him. He gently pressed his lips on yours and kissed you like he was trying to push all of his love into you. He was careful not to hurt you in any way, making sure he didn’t overwork you.

“I love you Y/N. Just don’t scare me like this again.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

“Never.”

Harry kissed you again, before he let you go back to sleep and rest. As you drifted off all you could think about was you and Harry and how together you were your strongest.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

The Last Cigarette (Spencer Reid x Reader) Smut

Summary: Mr Scratch was an unsub with undoubtedly the greatest impact on the team. Even in death, he pushes Spencer beyond the preconception of his limits. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​‘ server! This Unsub!Spencer!AU is for the outstanding @cardigayn​ <3 I hope you like it! 

Content warning: Character death, abuse of power, physical assault, murder, Unsub!Spencer, mentions of rape and attempted murder, mentions of knife wounds, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Smut content warning: AFAB!Reader, they/them pronouns, facesitting, hair pulling, overstimulation, light choking, riding, biting, praise kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, a hint of breeding

Gif credit: @imagining-in-the-margins​ // Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

No one on the team spoke about what Luke did to Scratch – or rather, what he didn’t do. The BAU were far beyond tired of that man’s torments. His impact upon each member was the greatest of any unsub they had ever encountered and now it was finally time to close the book on his crimes. That included turning their gaze away from the abuse of power that Luke had taken by letting Scratch fall from that building. Not the first time the team had banded together to mask a member’s tracks.

Spencer glanced up from his paperwork. Everyone else in the bullpen was focused on their tasks, as if nothing had happened. Even Emily was at her desk and typing away at her desktop when she had been an inch away from death not two weeks ago.

Spencer’s pen tapped against the desk twice before it was placed down adjacent to his pencil pot. He remembered the details of their cover-up. That wasn’t what paused his paperwork.

His mind was straying to another timeline, in accordance to the multi-verse theory. Luke had made a choice in this universe to not pull Scratch up. In another universe, he decided to save the unsub. What happened next?

After experiencing prison first hand, Spencer could somewhat pinpoint how long Scratch would have lasted in a place like Millburn. The respect for serial killers on the inside, especially those who had tormented law enforcement, would keep him alive.

There was the chance that there was another universe where Scratch would have gotten off scot free. And another timeline where Scratch, without a gun, overpowered Luke or Matt, taking either or both of them down. Kristy had no husband. Jake, David, Chloe, and Lily had no father. Roxy had no owner.

Maybe it was better that Luke didn’t help Scratch off that ledge, that Matt had just stayed back.

Spencer could not decide what he would have done in that situation, and he didn’t have to. But that didn’t mean another version of him didn’t. To be jealous of a version of himself that did not exist in his world was a bad idea. It was out of his hands and in his head – the roof, the unsub, the choice.

 --->--->--->--->--->

“Anyone want a coffee?”

A series of murmurs rose from the team, all negative, and Luke tucked his chair back under his desk before he walked off to the SAPD break room. Spencer watched his reflection in the conference room’s window. There was an itch in his brain that spread through a nerve to his knee – bouncing it just beneath the table.

Suddenly that nerve propelled him to follow Luke. Spencer’s feet weaved him in between officers until he found his teammate switching on the station’s coffee pot.

“Change your mind?” Luke raised an unsuspicious eyebrow.

“Yes,” Spencer lied, and he collected a mug to wash up. Suds flooded in the sink, rolling out the mug and around the plughole. Spencer fixated on them, a menial hope that he could focus on something else rather than the temptation of asking Luke for details.

He had to be closer of being clean of this whole thing than he thought. Scratch was dead, the case was closed. A few more years, this would be a memory that haunted him every few weeks instead of every day.

Dilaudid was craved by a tiny section of his brain, but he knew that it would not help him at all. He needed something else to help ease the cravings. If only he had inherited his mother’s affinity for cigarettes.

“Can I ask you something?”

Luke shrugged in return, “Sure.” He had opened his palm by his side but did not reach out to Spencer’s clean mug. Spencer appreciated that. A glance at the bullpen, visible through the open door, told him that no one else had followed them. It wasn’t too late. He could come up with a question about the case, about Roxy, about anything.

“What did he look like before he fell?”

Luke’s expression sobered and soured. He too checked the proximity of the police officers outside their bubble. Clearing his throat twice, he poured the coffee into his mug and spun the handle once it was down to fit Spencer’s need.

His voice was low as he said, “He looked desperate.”

Spencer nodded while he poured into his own cup. Perhaps more caffeine would aid him, for he had scratched the itch and it had spread elsewhere. Stirring in some sugar, he took a burning sip before it had dissolved and cringed at the granules in his mouth.

It was when he’d finally swallowed them, instead of spitting out like he wanted to, that Spencer gave into the itch: “Did he say anything to you?”

“He asked me to help him.” Luke blew on his coffee before taking a sip. Even then, he still struggled to swallow it. “He begged.”

“That can’t have been easy. Thanks for telling me.”

But Luke didn’t seem like he concurred. In fact, he looked as though he wanted to make right the claim and say that letting Scratch die was the easiest decision in the world.

Spencer blinked. Luke was gone, already back in the conference room. Perhaps he’d imagined something like that. His attention shifted to Scratch’s face, morphing it until it was a stereotypical expression of fear. Spencer had heard too much of that man’s voice, but it was good for one thing: recreating the words Luke had told him.

“Help me. Please!”

Matt was back with Emily.

And suddenly so was Luke. Spencer had gone it alone after Scratch. It was just the two of them on the roof, and soon it would be one.

Scratch’s clothes were whipped up by the wind, his begging too. It was almost as though he reached up for Spencer. One last cry for help. Then he fell, silent and ragdoll-esque.

Just before the body hit the ground, Scratch was clinging to the building’s side again. When he fell this time, he screamed hysterically. It echoed across the roof until Spencer couldn’t discern it from the wind. A swell of relief spread through his body. He took a sip from his coffee.

“Reid?” Just as he had done a minute prior, Luke was lingering in the doorway. “We should get back to the conference room.”

“Right,” Spencer dropped the teaspoon onto the side. It clattered about the side, then went quiet, then hit the floor. Spencer didn’t turn to see where it landed.

 --->--->--->--->--->

What an absolute smarty pants who could just about learn to use Teams by himself. Spencer leant to the right in his office chair as his partner Y/N showed him the ropes of his new application. How lucky he was to still have them after all they had been through – together and apart.

“And… ta-dah!” Y/N made jazz hands at the monitor.

“Thank you. You’re so good to me,” Spencer straightened up, smiling at the screen, “Can I get you a reward?”

Y/N seemed to ponder on this offer, an act Spencer had seen many times and never grew tired of. Then Y/N tapped their cheek twice and bent forward. With butterflies in his stomach, Spencer tilted his chin up and pressed a lingering kiss there. There was a bashful smile across their face when they drew away. Even after all this time, Spencer was proud he could still affect them so.  

The door to his office shut behind them and Spencer looked over his desktop’s background. His students’ homework was hovering in the background, already being printed off. The printer stuttering out each page had long since been tuned out

He glanced away from it to his left and saw Y/N again. Their arms were wrapped around themselves, their body close and facing Spencer with a clear expression drawing bravery upon them. Spencer’s head then turned to see if Scratch was still dangling by the tips of his fingers. He was.

“What do I do?” Spencer asked, his voice almost torn away by the wind he couldn’t feel against his cheek.

Y/N hardly spared Scratch a glance. They had never seen him before, and they made this one time they did as short as possible. Their hand moved Spencer’s head so that Scratch was in his blind spot. They held his face and looked on him sweetly, even in the darkness around them.

They gave Spencer their answer: “Leave him.”

Scratch’s body trembled as his head rigidly shook, “Please!”

But Y/N took Spencer’s hand in their free one and they held it even as Scratch’s grip failed him. Only then did they look at the unsub and watch unflinchingly together as their tormenter fell to his death. A second later, the pair heard the body hit the ground. Spencer began to move towards the ledge, Y/N tugging him back towards the door of the roof.

“I have to see,” Spencer insisted, “I have to know he’s really gone.”

There was no pity, just empathy, as Y/N nodded their head, “Ok.” Their hands tensed together while they approached the roof’s end.

There he was, his body broken, his head smashed against the dirt. Lifeless. Gone.

Then Scratch was falling again, the last seconds of existence, and Y/N was hiding their face in Spencer’s shoulder. He was holding them tight, so that if they changed their mind about watching, they wouldn’t be able to. But he was watching everything in slow motion.

Every fraction of change in Scratch’s terror was drawn out until it was a pantomime of itself.

“Are you ok?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

Closing his eyes, Spencer kissed Y/N’s head. He basked in his comfort before he opened his eyes again and drew a deep breath from the comfort of his desk chair. Then he collected the printed essays of his students, grabbing a pen to prepare for marking.

  --->--->--->--->--->

 This time Hotch was there, Jack’s face hidden in his father’s chest. Derek too, holding little Hank with all the tenderness a father could.

Spencer waved his hand towards the door, “Get them out of here. I don’t want them to see this.” He waited dutifully for them to leave, both of them sending a nod Spencer’s way.

Once the door bounced against its frame to close, he stood at the edge. He couldn’t feel the cold rushing past him, coaxing him to fall with Scratch, but he could picture hearing it. Almost deafening him to Scratch’s pleas, he turned those words up loud so that he could hear the moment the words stopped, the moment that Spencer pulled out his Smith & Wesson and shot Scratch in the head. His grip faltered instantly and his lifeless body tumbled down.

“No.”

Spencer screwed his eyes shut before looking back at the geographic profile.

“No what?”

He started. He didn’t realise that Tara was still in the room with him.

His words tumbled out quickly, “Just testing a theory, but it’s not right, it doesn’t fit.”

Nodding, Tara made her way beside him and observed the evidence collected so far, “We’ll get there. Just keep that brain going.”

Spencer planned to do just that. This daydream wasn’t as satisfying, like Nicorette mists or chewing gum. Just shooting him in the head? That was more than mercy for Scratch. No, he’d have to come up with something else to use. For the daydream of course.

He was glad that Tara was treating him normally. Not like JJ, who had checked in on him for Dilaudid before take-off. She was hovering around him like a gnat and it was starting to piss him off. Where was this energy when he was actually contemplating the drug’s pros and cons? He was determined to keep it together for the team to function and solve this case, but JJ in his peripherals was making it hard to focus. On work. Not the daydreaming. He loved her to bits, but he just wished she’d leave him to his own devices unless it concerned the case. That was the priority now.

The broken fingers of the victims sat like warped roots of a tree on the board, each knuckle shattered with a hammer. This unsub – a man in his 20s, not 30s – had such an odd post-mortem signature. Like when Ronald Weems did on the prostitutes. The ones Nathan Harris was obsessed with, wrote about, then killed himself before he could re-enact such a crime.

But it was fine. This was different. Spencer wasn’t writing these down. He didn’t need to. That, and he wasn’t about to recreate his daydreams.

“Excuse me.”

“Off for a smoke?” Luke joked half-heartedly.

Shortly after shaking off that effort at a joke, Spencer’s hand froze against the metal pole of the wheelchair access to the police station. His lungs took a deep breath of the cool Christmas air, a worthless hit. He hoped that Derek and Hotch were being the fathers they always wanted to be - that Gideon could have been.

--->--->--->--->--->

Adrenaline was what enabled him to haul Scratch up. Still, Spencer strained with his weight. He was gasping with the unsub when they were both allowed back onto the roof, Scratch’s knees digging into the floor for security and his hands still clasping the edge of the building - from the other side now.

Spencer watched, blood roaring in his ears with each panting breath. He took one deeper and let out a yell as he kicked his foot up into Scratch’s nose. Scratch rolled onto his back with a ragged rasp, blood spouting from his nose to stain everything it made contact with, and his head lolled off the edge of the building. Spencer’s chest burned with unsatisfaction so he kicked again. This time, his foot came down on Scratch’s groin. Ineffective in stopping him from standing, this was personal deliverance of pain.

He was out of breath but completely fine. He had the energy to drag Scratch back with one hand at his ankle, so now his head was beneath a solid enough surface to stomp on three times. Each one sent Scratch’s eyes rolling back further into his head.

Spencer began to use his hands. Getting close into Scratch’s space, he lay punch after punch, no pain on his hands, no. He put it all into Mr Scratch for every second he stole from him and his team until finally he stood up.

Scratch barely had enough energy to cough behind the blood pooling in his mouth. But Spencer could make out the one word he was wheezing in his agony.

“Spencer.”

Then, and only then, did Spencer draw his gun once more and shoot Mr Scratch in the neck.

The jet jolted as its wheels touched the runway. Spencer leant back in his chair, dragged as the jet slowed to a stop. He grunted, his head still catching up to that sudden jolt.

“I want you all to just go home, alright?” Prentiss was already stood at the end of the plane’s gangway, “Get some rest.”

The rest of the trip home was a blur for Spencer; it was committed to his memory but not with any intrigue. Only when he dropped his keys in the front door’s bowl did he start paying attention to his surroundings again. Y/N was powerwalking over to him, instinctively reaching out long before they made it to him.

“Hey baby!” They greeted, and Spencer enfolded them into a tight embrace, “You must be knackered.”

They swayed a little on the spot as Spencer answered, “I was.”

“Was?”

“Not after seeing you.”

His chin brushed over Y/N’s shoulder before he kissed that spot, smiling against the cloth of their shirt. His support rocked as Y/N giggled. Their grip on him tightened for a moment before they ran a hand over his tummy, the little “pouch” as they had affectionately named it. A thought ran past his eyes: that it wouldn’t hurt to start working out if he was going to do more than just shoot Scratch.

“Cheeky,” Y/N touched one of his curls as they pulled away, “Come on, let’s go to bed. Not like that.” They tapped his nose at the raise of his eyebrows.”

“I missed you,” Spencer said, not immediately after that, but when they were both in bed together, “I always do.”

“Me too.”

Y/N was unable to look Spencer in the eye. Spencer loved that they were so overwhelmed with love that they had to seek refuge elsewhere. They were just like him in that sense.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Gun drawn, Spencer took deliberate steps stalking through the darkened apartment complex. The entire area was due for demolishing the following morning, so there were plenty hiding spaces for this unsub to jump out of. Every deep breath stilled his hands as he moved swiftly around each corner. Matt mumbled something in his earpiece about going down to the poolside.

He made his way to the third floor and followed the glowing green signs towards the fire escape.

Martin Harvey had just turned around to see Spencer. He instantly dropped the pipe he was wielding and thrust his hands into the air.

“Ok, ok, ok, you got me. Don’t shoot.”

His legs crumbled and he fell to his knees. A coward, just like the profile had said. This was too easy. No, it wasn’t actually. Interviewing those parents and friends of the victims, gritting teeth while working through red tape set up by the small town talk and the prejudices constructed long before this case occurred, none of that and none of what came prior was easy.

“Get up there.”

Harvey frowned, his eyes unsteady between Spencer’s face and Spencer’s gun, “What?”

Spencer tilted the barrel of his gun to the fire escape stairs for a second, immediately returning it onto Harvey, “You heard me.”

Shaking, Harvey took the steps as they came. His hands were still on his head. His boots made hollow clanks against the rusting metal, echoing Spencer’s lighter taps, until they came into contact with the concrete of the roof. The wind felt more brutal today. It was colder than Spencer imagined. The February chills shouldn’t dissuade him much though.

The second Harvey made a move to spin around, Spencer smacked his head with the butt of his gun. Harvey tripped forwards but remained upright. So Spencer holstered his weapon, grabbed Harvey’s shoulder, and punched across his nose. Both men let out a cry. Spencer flexed his fingers to subside the pain, but it continued to shoot up and down his bones. Another attempt, he grappled with the scruff of Harvey’s shirt then shoved him off his balance to the ground. The unsub wobbled and cried out as he fell backwards. Spencer kicked again, not as strong as the last time, but he felt the surge of power in him. Adrenaline, real and flooding his every movement. This was beyond what his fantasies had ever brought him, and he was living for it. He didn’t have to hold back anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” Harvey sobbed, trying to hide in his hands. Pathetic. The man who had raped and attempted murder on five different women couldn’t take it when a man stood up to him.

He hit Harvey once more but drew back from the opportunity for a third. Instead, he rolled the body over the edge with just enough tact to allow Harvey to make a grab for the edge.

Once more, Harvey begged for Spencer to stop.

Spencer looked down on this low life, this scum that dared to interfere with innocent lives for fun. The heel of his shoe came down hard on Harvey’s hand. He howled in pain. Spencer stomped down again; this time there was a series of collective crunches. Harvey let go with that hand, but the other was still clinging dearly to the roof.

As he stared into those panicked eyes, Spencer squatted down beside Harvey’s hands. Broken fingers flailed nearby, Harvey not strong enough to pull himself up and reach for Spencer. His thumb slid off the edge, and the pinkie finger too.

The begging faded into the background. The fear in his face, it had to be at least somewhat the same as Scratch’s. The proximity to danger was beyond comfort.

People he lost:

Derek.

Hotch.

Emily, nearly.

People he loved:

Tara.

Matt.

Penelope.

Luke.

JJ.

Him.

Mom.

Y/N.

Spencer brought down the butt off his gun onto the last three fingers holding on. His eyelids forced him to watch as Harvey fell fast to the ground, a crunch of bones reaching his ears when the ground met with him

A delicious shiver ran up Spencer’s spine. He shook his shoulders and breathed it out. There was not the extreme of happy. Felt in his heart was content in the gentle breeze, in the dull pain.

“Prentiss. He’s dead. I’m on the roof.”

“We’re on our way, Reid.”

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Paramedics had pressed the sterilised cotton against his cuts while his eyes were on the bag that was wheeled away towards the other ambulance. Spencer’s thousand-yard stare ended shortly after that; Emily walked into his view and touched his shoulder. Her embrace was welcomed greatly, as was the nap he took on the flight back.

His bag was not as heavy as he remembered it being as he drew up to his apartment. Once his keys were out the door, he dropped everything and was on his way to the bedroom for an early night when he bumped into Y/N – who was all bundled in their pyjamas.

“You’re back! In time for Valentine’s Day!” Y/N’s smile was quick to disappear, “What happened?”

“I found the unsub. He fought back, resisted. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh Spencer.” They hovered an inch over his face before they settled their hands on him.

A quick kiss on his lips, then they took him into the kitchen and set about making a tea for him. But Spencer didn’t really need, or want, one. He slipped up behind them, mumbling into their ear, “I���m meant to be the one taking care of you today.”

“We take care of each other, Spencer, you know that.” Y/N patted his arms that were now around their waist. Spencer kissed the spot below their ear, smirking into\ them as he felt the stutter in their movements. His lips found the side of their neck and kissed again.

“We do,” He agreed.

“You know, I won’t be able to take care of you if you keep doing that.”

“Oh, you will,” Spencer nuzzled his cheek against them, “Just not by making me tea.” To make extra sure his point was getting across, Spencer moved them around and kissed them with two fingers lightly pinching their chin.

“Your hand-”

“Doesn’t hurt. And I have two.”

Already Spencer was unbuttoning Y/N’s shirt, his thin fingers parting it open to place his cool touch against their bare skin. It shuddered beneath him, sending waves to help him map the rest of their body again in his mind. A tingle sat in between his shoulder blades as Y/N tugged at the curls in the nape of his neck.

How they got into bed doesn’t really matter. It was when Spencer’s hands pressed into the mattress that he winced away from Y/N’s lips.

“You are hurting,” They pushed to sit up.

“I’m fine.”

“You need to rest.”

“What I need is for you to sit on my face and not stand up until I say so.”

Spencer heard Y/N’s teeth knock together as they closed their once-agape mouth. “Can you help me with that?”

Y/N nodded, dumbstruck at Spencer’s words and the thumb he was dragging across their bottom lip in an attempt to distract from his injuries.

“Y/N, I’m ok. Really. It’s just a little sting. Let me love you.”

“I’m not stopping you. I’m just worried.”

Throb of each cut on his hand as his fingers fanned across their skin Grasping tight on their thighs

He only had to let go for a moment while Y/N stripped clean of their clothes Seeking refuge, he felt completely content with those thick thighs wrapped around his head. Not a single time did his mind stray to Scratch or any other unsub now that Y/N was safe from them. Calm seeped over him, fuelling his biting and lavishing his tongue upon their inner thighs

His pace enjoyed such a leisurely stroll around their cunt, the tip of his tongue gliding through each of their folds. Eyes still closed, he had the image of it soaking wet with his spit and their juices. He licked his lips once before he pursed them around the clit. His hands, now stiff and sore from stroking their hips, reached up to touch their chest. He fondled at their sensitive nipples with delight at Y/N fisting at his hair. All this, and he licked at Y/N’s clit like it was an ice lolly on a summer’s day.

When Y/N came first, they let out short bursts of breath coupled with their moans. The second time, they had to hold onto the bedframe as their body slumped forward and their clit rubbed up against Spencer’s nose. On the third, they fell off his chin, rolled to their side of the bed. Giggles fell from their satisfied smile as they curled up. Smearing the back of his hand across his mouth, Spencer pushed onto his side so he could reach them for another kiss. Y/N could barely respond and they were still laughing as Spencer pulled them into his lap. His fingers looked so pretty around their neck; he kept them there until silence filled the room again. When they reached that moment, he squeezed lightly and let out a gentle “hmm” at Y/N’s moan.

“You good, darling?” He whispered.

“Just what the doctor ordered.”

Though their lips were together, they parted in pants and smiles.

“You got one more for me?”

“Of course,” Y/N clumsily patted a hand down his cheek, “You haven’t even had one yet.”

“I don’t need one.”

“You must be the only guy to say that and mean it.”

Swallowing the statistic on how many men had said they wanted to orgasm during sex, Spencer watched Y/N struggle to sit on his cock. Their legs were shaking uncontrollably; they didn’t settle, not even in his firm hold.

His hands dragged them down onto him and over their moans he whispered, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want one.”

“I wanna give you what you want.”

As Y/N  rocked into him, Spencer shared the last of their tangy taste that lingered on his tongue. Then he found peace in resting his chin on their shoulder, rising and falling as they did.

“You wanna cum for me?”

Their words hit his ears, “Please, help me.”

A spike of pleasure ripped through his body. In an instant, Spencer flipped them over and drove his hips hard into them. His teeth sunk into the skin of their shoulder before releasing his load into them. His entire being trembled into Y/N, their ankles locked in his lower back lazily as he milked every last drop of exhilaration he could from them.

His cock stayed inside them, keeping his cum safe inside. Y/N barely lifted their head but luckily for them, Spencer’s shoulder was within their reach. They bit him in the same spot he had bitten them, not releasing him until their marks matched.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” They mumbled against him.

Spencer tipped himself back an inch or two, “I’m happy you’re safe too.” He didn’t mind the ache on his skin any more than the others. It was a nice collection he had gathered today.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Spencer.”

--->--->--->--->--->  

 This was it, the last cigarette. He didn’t have to worry about Scratch anymore after this.

A low whistle lead Spencer to pull at his collar sheepishly, and Tara leant against his desk. At first, he ignored her, signing off the last of his paperwork. His mandatory session with the team’s therapist set fresh on his lungs without a single symptom of guilt.

“Well, well, well,” Tara teased, indicating to her neck with two fingers tapping, “Something about a life or death situation that gets you in the mood?”

“Actually, research into the terror management theory has shown that people respond to mortality reminders by bolstering their own cultural view, derogating opposing views, and shoring up their self-esteem. By this account, the effect of death on libido will depend on the meaning that sex has for a person.”

“And what does it mean for you?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“You don’t have to,” Tara grinned, “I would hazard a guess that Y/N’s looking the same.”

Spencer shook his head playfully, “We said we wouldn’t profile each other.”

The ribbing came to a close as Penelope brushed past and announced to the bullpen, “We have a new case, in the conference room.”

Spencer dropped his finished case file into Emily’s empty office on the way to the conference room, his hand only complaining an itch at the motions of holding a pen and a form. It didn’t end as he flicked over the file’s papers while Penelope went over the details of their latest case – gruesome photos of open knife wounds the television screens.

The shrinking juxtaposition between body discoveries indicated a devolving unsub with a disintegrating cooling off period. Basically, it was an unsub not worthy of his daydreams or of his injuries.

Except that’s not what it was at all. This was an unsub to be arrested and face punishment, before more people could be hurt. Spencer didn’t need a cooling off period because he wasn’t going to do that again. He could recall his played-out fantasy in complete and utter detail, never forgetting a thing he saw.

And anyway, this unsub was definitely an impotent and disorganised man lashing out. Couldn’t hold a candle to Scratch. So why waste his time on that? Why would he have another cigarette when he didn’t need one right now?

--->--->--->--->

AN: I do not condone the actions displayed in this fic. I find unsub!AUs of the show interesting developments and the intended recipient of this fic is aware of that. I will not write a part two for this, because I do not have the motivation or idea besides Spencer getting caught and subsequently arrested.

Thank you for reading!

[cursestothemoon]

My Dove

Requested: yes ( @classygladiatortidalwave )

Hermione Granger x fem!hufflepuff!reader

Warnings: flashback (in italics) that is a bit steamy, nothing too explicit 

Word Count: 1272

I loved writing this one, it was so much fun and I think it was really cute thank you for requesting it

✧✧✧

Hermione Granger had many names. First and foremost she was Hermione, to her parents and to classroom acquaintances. Then the occasional ‘Mione, a name that seemed to be reserved for only Harry, Ron, and Ginny; the twins also seemingly preferred this alias. Even Grawp had his own name for her, Hermy, she wasn’t too fond of that one. Or the occasional Granger, that was spat by ignorant blonde cockroaches.

In the midst of all these names, wanted or otherwise, there was one that never failed to bring warmth to her cheeks and sweat to her palms. My Dove. The name, only allowed to be uttered from the sweet lips of Hermione’s love, Y/n L/n. Hermione remembers the first time she was called that, she doubts she could ever forget it.

The night had been long in the best way possible, warm bodies entangled with each other. If she closed her eyes she could still feel the way Y/n’s hot, heaving chest touched her own with every intake of breath. Her fingers were following the gentle curve of Y/n’s hip, that’s when it happened.

Y/n lifted her hand to caress Hermione’s cheek, completely lost in the tired eyes of her lover.

“My dove.” It was quiet, though Hermione felt as though it spoke volumes and prompted her to lean in and take the girl's lips with her own once again.

Hermione smiled at the memory, she would’ve burned all her books and shouted from the rooftops if Y/n had asked her to that night. She took a moment from her thoughts, looking to Y/n sitting just a few seats in front of her in Professor Binns History of Magic class. Her eyes raked over the girls figure, and even through the yellow accented robes Hermione could see the outline of her beautiful lover.

Y/n, feeling the pair of eyes on her, turned around to meet the culprit. A smile breaking onto her face as she saw her girlfriend looking at her, lopsided grin etched onto her fair face. The look of pure enamorment made Y/n giggle, eyes glancing down to her shoes before popping back up to look at Hermione again. With a small shake of her head she mouthed a ‘pay attention’ and turned around to continue her notes. Hermione, having already taken the notes on her own, let out her own quiet giggle making Ron grumble next to her.

“How come Harry and I couldn’t talk but you can make googly eyes at your girlfriend?”  

Hermione scoffed, expression turning to one of friendly annoyance, “Firstly, Ronald, I was not making googly eyes. I was merely appreciating her beauty today. Secondly, I’ve already done my notes.”

Harry tried to hold in his laugh but ended up letting out a rather choked chuckle but didn’t say anything. He was too busy wishing Ginny would look at him the way Hermione looked at Hufflepuff’s Y/n L/n.

Hermione saw Ron’s silence as an invitation to delve back into her thoughts about her girlfriend.

The night they first kissed coming to mind. She internally groaned at how nervous she was that night in front of the Hufflepuff common room barrels.

The day had been cold, blinding white snow blanketed the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione and Y/n had gotten back from a trip to Hogsmeade and had been wandering around the castle grounds aimlessly. Both wanting to think it was a date yet neither voicing their wishes.

They giggled, heads close together, as they stumbled to lean against the barrels. They were cutting it close, ten minutes to curfew yet Hermione still insisted on walking Y/n to her common room.

“It’s almost curfew, we’ve got to keep quiet.” Hermione whispered with a breathy laugh.

The air was suddenly thick, Y/n felt her hands start to sweat again as Hermione was now impossibly close, closer than she had previously realized.

Her voice was soft, fearing to ruin the moment if she were any louder, “I had a really great time today, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded, eyes moving to look at the floor, bashfulness flooding her veins.

“Me too. We should hang out again, some time. If you want, that is, we don’t have to-”

She was quickly cut off, “I’d love to. This Friday, I promised Professor Sprout I’d check into the greenhouse and water a few of the plants. I’m sure she won’t mind if you accompanied, then we could do whatever you’d like.”

Hermione was quick to agree, not caring where they were, just wanting to be with her.

Five minutes to curfew and Hermione was now leaning in. At least she thinks she is, it feels as though she is, but she’s lost control of her body and if it were under any other circumstance she would be very, very worried.

“I should get going…”

She wanted to curse herself as she heard the words come from her mouth, oh the way Ginny would laugh at her when she told her. Harry would be so disappointed and, Merlin, Hermione just wished there was a book on this stuff. Why would she say that?

Y/n’s felt her face fall, she had read the situation entirely wrong.

“Oh, yeah, it’s late, you’re right.” The words were muttered and quiet, and for the first time she spoke without a smile.

It was with bravery that Godric Gryffinder himself would be envious of, surely this was what the hat saw when he put her in her house, Hermione reached out to grab the wrist of the already retreating form of the girl she had been thinking about endlessly for the past year and pulled the her body into her own.

Her hands found the sides of Y/n’s face, cradling her jaw as she smashed their lips together, the short gasp and return of the kiss allowed Hermione to relax. Then, much to Hermione’s surprise and enjoyment, she was pushed against the side of the barrels by Y/n as she deepened the kiss, her hands travelling down to play with the loops on her jeans.

They pulled away, almost simultaneously, and Y/n leaned in one last time to give Hermione a short peck as she smiled. Their goodbyes were quiet, giggles and red cheeks proudly displayed until a nearby painting reprimanded them for being out past curfew causing Hermione to frantically kiss Y/n goodbye once more, far shorter than previously, and rush to her common room.

That was the first time Hermione Granger had ever been out past curfew on her own.

“Ready to go, my dove?”

The voice brought the Gryffindor girl out of her thoughts, turning to meet the waiting smile of Y/n. Hermione nodded as she packed her things quickly and turned to Ron and Harry before grabbing her girlfriend’s hand and leaving.

“I’ll give you my notes to use later.” She said with a small nod.

Turning on her heel she grabbed Y/n’s waiting hand and they walked out of the class. Harry and Ron watched as the hand holding between the two shifted to Hermione wrapping her arm around Y/n’s shoulders and Y/n wrapping her arm around Hermione’s waist, both of the girls smiling as they disappeared through the door frame.

“You know,” Ron turned to Harry. “We need to get Y/n a really great Christmas gift.”

Harry agreed, “Yeah, she’s made Hermione really happy, hasn’t she?”

“Forget happiness, she’s letting us use all her notes and essays now. Bloody hell, we owe any OWLs we get to that Hufflepuff.”

[somethingvaguetodo]

Program: Outreach

For @into-september who requested “value me” from this prompt list. Read on AO3 here.

~~~

“Adrien A-Agreste?”

Adrien winced at the stutter that preceded his last name, but stood, straightening his jacket before turning to the woman with what he hoped was a sincere smile.

“That’s me.”

She bit her lip before smiling tentatively back. “I’m Lena LaRoe.” Adrien held out his hand to shake hers and she stared at it, as if he had offered her a snake's head instead of a regular hand. Self-conscious, he let his fingers ball into a fist and dropped his arm to hang uselessly by his side. “You can come with me.”

She spun on her patent black heel and walked toward a door past the reception area. Adrien hurried to follow her, nodding politely at the receptionist who quickly tried to pretend she wasn’t just staring at him in shock.

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief once the door closed behind him, and the hall was wonderfully absent of any inquisitive eyes.

Adrien absolutely loved the Miraculous Center for Emotional Support. The non-profit was established by Paris’s heroes and funded by the government and generous donors, with the intention of serving the emotional needs of Paris’s citizens, especially those who had been akumatized, targeted by akumas, or generally traumatized by the terror that had gripped Paris for years. And normally, everyone at the Center loved him too. But that’s when he was here as Chat Noir.

Right now he was Adrien Agreste, son of the infamous Hawkmoth.

He could see the difference in everyone he had encountered already. Gus, the security guard, had given him a dirty look while he checked in. Carlie at the reception desk didn’t attempt to hide her slack-jawed expression. Lena, who was normally professional but friendly to Chat Noir, couldn’t meet his eye, and stumbled over his last name like she was uttering the most offensive curse.

It was nothing new, but it didn’t hurt any less.

Lena stepped aside and let Adrien pass into her office. She followed him inside, almost closing the door. She stopped before it clicked closed, swinging it open again and leaving it a few inches open. It was almost as if she was afraid of being closed into the room with him - like he was going to akumatize her just by being near.

Adrien swallowed back a scream of frustration and sat down.

“Well, M. Agreste,” Lena said, managing not to choke on his name this time, which Adrien hoped was a good sign. “Thank you for coming in to talk with me today.”

“Thank you for offering me an interview,” Adrien countered. As upset as he was at the reaction he had gotten so far at the Center, it was nowhere near as bad as all of the other places where he had applied for jobs. It seemed like, no matter what industry, and no matter what qualifications he had, no one wanted to hire a terrorist’s son.

It was a little crazy of him, applying for a job at the Center when he was often here as Chat Noir. But it was work he loved, a place he was happy, and… well… his dwindling trust fund could only last him for so long.

He wondered, briefly, what Ladybug would think if she knew.

“I...well…” Lena looked uncomfortable, like she didn't really want to offer him an interview but wasn’t given a choice. “Of course.” She took a deep breath before pasting on something of a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about what makes you interested in this position?”

“Of course. I have my degree in…” He trailed off, realizing that reciting his resumé wasn't going to get him anywhere. It never did. He went for some form of honesty. “Listen, you’ve got my resumé, you don’t want to hear that from me. I’m here because I think this is the most worthwhile work I could do. I want to help people. I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed by your emotions, and to feel like you have no support and no one to turn to. I’d like to do anything I can do to help people who are struggling in that way.”

Lena gave an uncomfortable sigh. “That’s a wonderful sentiment, Adrien. I just… can I be honest with you?”

“I would appreciate that.”

She leaned both elbows on the desk, resting her chin on her folded hands. “Do you really think that it would bring people comfort to come here and see…?”

“The son of Hawkmoth,” he bitterly finished her sentence.

Lena winced, but didn’t back down. “I’m sorry if that seems harsh, but it’s reality.”

Adrien felt his carefully crafted professional façade start to crack. Maybe he should have thought this through before coming here. Now, he would never be able to think about Lena, or anyone else here, the same.

“Right,” he said, before he could let something more frustrated slip out. “Well, I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time.” He started to stand, but Lena gestured him back down.

“Not quite yet. The boss wants to speak with you.”

Adrien was confused - Lena was the head of human resources, she really didn’t have a boss - but made sure he didn’t show it. She pressed a button on the intercom, and they sat together in tense silence. A moment later there was a light knock on the door, and it was nudged open.

Ladybug walked into the room.

That was unexpected. Adrien was worried - did his presence in the building really warrant calling in the big guns? But at the same time, he felt a million times calmer. How could he not; after all, his best friend just came in.

“Hello,” Ladybug said, her voice and her eyes soft. She took a seat in the empty chair next to him.

Lena looked between them, clearly waiting for Ladybug to start talking. Ladybug looked back, annoyed, but if he didn’t know her so well, he never would have detected it. “Your application created quite the stir here, Adrien.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t really understand why I was called in, though,” Ladybug steamrollered over him. “I’ve never made hiring decisions before.”

“It’s not that,” Lena finally spoke. “We just thought that it would be helpful to have you on hand in this instance -”

“What?” Ladybug cut her off. “In case he akumatized someone?” Ladybug’s eyes were hard, and her tone was sharp. She was radiating righteous fury. “Might I remind you, Mlle. LaRoe, that Adrien was never accused of association with his father? That he was a minor at the time when Hawkmoth was active and apprehended, and by all means was just as much a victim of his father’s cruelty as the rest of Paris, if not more so? This entire organization was founded on the basis of understanding and respect, and I’m extremely disappointed to learn that this is the approach you had to Adrien’s desire to work here.”

“By showing a desire to come here, Adrien is demonstrating compassion, kindness, and empathy. The desire to help others and do something bigger than himself. By coming here, meeting with you, walking through the halls of this building while people looked out of the corners of their eyes and whispered and gossiped, Adrien is showing that he has the mental fortitude to overcome any adversity. Why, I think he’s the bravest, strongest, and most admirable person I’ve ever met. And if you don’t believe that that is the kind of person that I would want to work alongside, then you have no idea what true bravery and heroism really is.”

Ladybug was staring down Lena, who at least had the decency to look ashamed. Adrien couldn’t take his eyes off his partner, who had defended him with such ferocity, even though she didn’t know him. If possible, he fell a little deeper in love with her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said, properly chastised.

Ladybug blinked, as if just realizing what had happened. Her cheeks pinkened slightly. “Well… I think that covers it.” She looked down, clearly embarrassed and scraped her toe along the edge of Lena’s desk.

“Of course.” Lena turned toward Adrien. “I think you would make a wonderful addition to the team, Adrien. We’ll do some research into which department would be the best fit for your skills.”

Adrien could barely believe his ears. Ladybug’s fierce exclamation on his character had earned him a job offer on the spot? “I… wow… thank you.”

“Actually,” Ladybug spoke up again, the coloring in her face now back to normal. “I was thinking of having him work with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” She turned her body toward him. “Marinette works in program outreach. I think you two will work well together.”

Adrien held her gaze, feeling like something was passing between them. He wondered what it meant that she had come in with an idea of what department she wanted him in, and with someone in mind to work with.

“I’ll be in touch with an offer letter,” Lena said, standing. Adrien rose to meet her. This time, she was the one to reach out a hand for him to shake. He took it, feeling a million times better than when he first came in.

“I’ll walk you out,” Ladybug said, leaving no room for argument. He followed her in silence out of the office, down the hall, and past the reception desk. Carlie still didn’t hide the fact that she was staring, but her gaze meant nothing to him now.

Adrien didn’t speak until they reached the front doors. “Thank you, Ladybug, for what you said about me in there.”

Ladybug waved him aside. “I was just speaking the truth.”

“Not many people feel that way about me.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. “It's the truth that I see. I guess I never realized just how prejudiced people are about you until it hit home here.”

Adrien smiled at her. “So that’s why you went to bat for me like that?”

“Can I make a confession?” Ladybug bit her lip and waited for him to nod before continuing. “I was standing outside the office the whole time, and I heard what you said to Lena about feeling overwhelmed, and unsupported. That’s exactly why this company was started, and that’s exactly the type of people Chat and I envisioned staffing it.” Ladybug’s eyes gleamed suddenly, like they were sharing a private joke. “Speaking of Chat… you reminded me of him.”

He felt the old panic of his secret identity rising. “Chat? Chat Noir? Really?”

Ladybug’s smile was sheepish. “In a way. He… don’t tell him I said this, but he puts on a show. His big personality is there to hide just how vulnerable he can be sometimes. I know him pretty well and... let’s just say he didn't have the best upbringing either. So, you reminded me of him.”

As his heart rate settled back down, Adrien thought about it. Would it really be so bad if she knew he was Chat Noir? He knew that she cared for Chat, but after everything that happened with his father, he always feared that she would shy away from him if she learned that he was Adrien Agreste. But maybe today, he learned that he really didn’t have anything to worry about.

“That’s quite a compliment.”

Ladybug shrugged. “It's the highest compliment I can think of.” It looked like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words.

He decided to let her off the hook. “I should get going.”

“Of course,” she agreed, reaching out to shake his hand. He let his fingers envelope hers, the smooth texture of her suit sliding against his skin. “I’m glad you’ll be joining us.”

“You think I’ll be good in program outreach?”

She smiled again, this time full of warmth. Their hands were still connected. “I think it’s the perfect place for you. And I know Marinette will be eager to work with you.”

There was something there, a secret wrapped in her words and her smile and the glint in her eyes, but Adrien figured that he could start figuring that out once his job started. For now, he let himself bask in the warmth of Ladybug’s approval, and the knowledge that no matter what people did and said, she would always be in his corner.

[clairecrive]

"Rock my world" - Sirius Black x reader

A/n: I was thinking of making this a series but idk, let me know what you think. The band in the picture, Maneskin, are my inspiration for the marauders' band music and aesthetic. Check them out cause they're really good. They're going to represent Italy at the next Eurovision contest.

Here's their Instagram and Spotify.

Tags: Muggle AU, so ofc no magic, no Hogwarts, Marauders in a rock band, no Peter but Regulus instead, jily

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K ish

Summary: When y/n finally agrees to check out this band that her best friend was always talking about, she's in for a pleasant surprise and one hell of a night.

It had all started in the cheesiest and most cliscé of ways, really. Y/n had made a bet which had made you go out of your comfort zone that one night and for your bravery, you were rewarded with the most amazing boyfriend ever. It sounds like a story out of a rom-com or a romance novel, doesn't it? Well, yeah, it felt like a main character moment but, unlike what we see in those stories, it wasn't always fun and games.

But let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Y/n's best friend Jules had been nagging her about this rock band who was apparently the new sensation of the year according to her, for the longest time. So, one Friday night, when Jules had informed her that that very band was playing in a bar not very far from her workplace, she agreed to go for drinks there.

Worst case scenario, she thought, the music will be terrible but at least I get to tease Jules about it.

Still clothed in the floral dress she had chosen this morning, but adding a few glittery touches and graphic eyeliner to make her look more nighty, y/n headed towards said bar where Jules was already waiting for her.

"Finally," she huffed when y/n rounded the corner and entered her field of vision. 

"Sorry, it was my turn to close tonight," y/n shot her an apologetic smile before hooking their arms.

They made their way inside looking for a place to sit. The bar was already crowded but not in an unusual way. Maybe it was the hour or the fact that it was a weeknight, y/n didn't know but felt grateful that it wasn't packed. She really wasn't a fan of crowded places.

They got their drinks and caught up as they usually would about their week. They were almost finished when the band walked up the stage and music started playing. Even before the first note, one look at their outfits made clear what kind of music they were going to play. 

They had an interesting aesthetic, y/n had to admit. They wore the same colour but each member had their own style. The band was made up of four guys, the bassist had long straight hair and he looked a lot like the singer who instead had curly hair, the drummer had short curly light brown hair and y/n couldn't see what he was wearing past a black vest while the guitarist had black hair that was all over the place and wore glasses. 

They had an androgynous aesthetic, each of them with beautiful makeup in tones of black and grey and the ones y/n could see clearly were wearing a sort of body. They looked stunning. Y/n had decided she liked them based on this alone. She had to admire anyone who had the guts to express themselves freely especially when it was in such an open and unapologetic way of going against gender norms.

After half an hour, the music stopped and after the singer wished everyone goodnight and they all climbed down. As she expected, they played rock music ranging from soft rock edging pop to hard rock that made her think a lot of ACDC. Y/n wasn't an expert in music but she had liked what she heard and wouldn't mind listening more from them. She was sure that she was going to catch some of their songs on the radio in the future. 

However, Jules picked up the conversation where they had left it before the concert and decided that it was the time where she'd complain about her recent love interest. Each of their weekly meetings had one of this moment. Unfortunately, it looked like Jules didn't have a lot of luck when it came to guys. And as it always would, she wondered if she was the problem asking y/n if the reason every one of her relationships failed because she was unlovable. As if.

"That's not true, I truly believe that you can learn to love anyone. Lest you get to know them, of course."

"Of course you'd say something like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you truly believe that, then you're not going to say no to this." Jules wriggles her eyebrows suggestively and y/n knew that the night is either about to become very interesting or about to go very wrong.

"The expression on your face is telling me that I should definitely say no to what you're about to say."

"Oh c'mon, it's just an innocent dare. Nothing too crazy, I promise."

"Which is?"

"You see that guy leaning on the bar? Long black hair with the black leather jacket?" Y/n turned around indulging her friend and eventually spotted the guy she was talking about. She took her time to look at him until she realized something that made her whip around to face Jules again.

"You mean the singer of the band?" y/n asked incredulously.

"Isn't he handsome?" Jules smiled wide completely ignoring the look y/n was giving her already knowing what was going through her friends' mind. "I want you to go to him and ask him out."

"What?" 

"C'mon", Jules complained reaching out to y/n over the table, "didn't you say that it was possible to love anyone? Can't you see yourself loving him?"

"That's not the point," y/n exclaimed still not believing that her friend was suggesting something so outrageous. "Can you see him loving me?" Because that man over there had "heart breaker" spelt all over him. And okay, y/n had to admit that this was a rush judgment she was making and it wasn't exactly fair but there was no way that a guy like him could be interested in a girl like her.

And yes, we could stay here and discuss all the reasons why that statement is wrong but still, if she were to put herself out there -something that was not like her at all- she wasn't going to go over someone so out of reach for her. And that was that.

"Listen, do you remember that video you sent me the other day?" Jules squared her shoulders, now looking fully serious at y/n. Unfortunately, y/n did remember the video Jules was talking about. She would have never guessed it would come back and bit her in the ass otherwise she'd never sent it.

Sighing, y/n looked down at the drink in her hands and thought about it. The video basically encouraged the viewer to go up to what they believed was the most beautiful person in the room and tell them exactly that. It may sound a little silly but at the time y/n had appreciated the sentiment. Going out of one's comfort zone. Challenging yourself. Because, what was the worst that could happen? That person shotting you down? That didn't sound life-threatening. Now though, y/n wasn't so sure. 

"Worst case scenario, just tell him I'm calling you and head back here." Jules offered, almost as if she could tell exactly what her best friend was thinking.

Looking at her best friend, something snapped in her. Jules was right. What's the worst that could happen? She already knew that the guy was going to shoot her down. She was prepared. It was a dare, a silly thing that could give her a story to tell to her nephews one day. 

What the hell, y/n thought squaring her shoulders. 

"You know what?" she downed the rest of her drink and got up from her seat, "I'm doing it." Looking in the reflection of the tissue box on the table to check how she looked, she fixed her smudged lipstick and ruffed her hair before nodding solemnly at Jules and turned around.

As she made her way to the bar, she could hear Jules cheering on her fueling her sudden confidence. 

The man of the hour was there where she saw him last. Her steps faltered as she realized that she had no idea how to approach him. What was she going to say? Oh my god, she was totally going to make a fool of herself. If she was not going to die for his rejection, she sure is going to die of embarrassment. 

She was almost about to turn around and abort the mission when his eyes met hers.

Well, fuck. There was no way she was going to back down now.

She regained her confidence and smiled at him while closing the distance between them. She smiled at him. Who was she? Did someone drug her drink?

He smiled back at her, turning so that he'd be facing her once she reached him and she almost stopped to pinch herself to see if she was hallucinating or something.

"Hey," she said once she stood in front of him. Good, she thought, let's start with something simple.

"Hi," he smiled back at her.  

Okay, okay, it's going good, isn't it? He hasn't ignored me, that must mean something, right? Yes, that he wasn't a rude asshole was her sobering thought.

"So," y/n started trying to take to time while she figured what to say, "I saw a video the other day," was what she ended up with. 

The handsome stranger lifted his eyebrows in amusement and took a sip of his beer. Y/n took that as a "go on then".

"There was this woman that basically dared anyone watching to go up to the person who they thought was the most beautiful person in the room and tell them exactly that." Well, let's just get it out of the way, I guess, she thought. "So, here I am," she added as if it wasn't clear enough.

However, as she saw the man's smile widen, y/n suddenly realized how really screwed she was. This man was way out of her league.

"Well, now that I'm here, I should also mention that you've really good at what you do too." 

"Not to sound rude or anything," he spoke for the first time that evening and y/n had already decided that he had been the gods' favourite in another life before he opened his mouth but now? as he heard his low and raspy voice? she was sure he had been at least a demi-god, "did you lost a bet or something?" he asked, his grey eyes boring into hers like he was looking into her soul.  

Who was this guy? and why was she feeling like this? Get a grip, y/n, she scolded herself.

"Is it that obvious?" y/n's shoulders slouched as some of the tension left them, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth. 

"I saw you downing your drink like it was some kind of bravery potion before you came here," he explained with a light scroll of his shoulders. "Not that I mind though," he added with what should be an illegal smirk. Smug.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've heard it countless time only tonight." Let's joke on it, she thought, there's still a chance I can come clean out of this mess. 

He chuckled and, not leaving her eyes, he slipped a hand through his loose hair pushing it back. "I meant that if you hadn't come I would probably found an excuse to come up to you too." He leaned back onto the bar looking completely unbothered, not as if he had said something that made her feel on fire. 

"Looks like I've to thank your friend for my luck." Looking over your shoulder, he held one of his hands up and lightly waving at Jules, y/n figured.

"Yeah, let's not tell her that or I will never hear the end of it." Rolling her eyes, y/n also leaned on her arm resting on the bar next to him. Whether it was the fact that all the cards were on the table or that what he said meant that he had to somewhat like her, she felt more relaxed than a couple of minutes ago.

"Before I make this solemn oath, I think it would be appropriate to know your name, don't you think?"

"It's y/n," she held her hand up for him to shake. However, he had something else in mind since when he took hold of her hand he turned it and held it up to his lips to leave a soft kiss on it. Y/n  almost rolled her eyes at the gesture if it wasn't for his eyes. They didn't move from hers and she found that she didn't want to stop looking at him. Like she was in a trance. Yes, he was handsome, even more so up close, so of course he was nice to look at but that wasn't why. It's the way his eyes glimmered as they watched her, the gentleness with which he was holding her hand, the softness of his lips on her skin. What would they feel like on her lips, she wondered.

"I'm Sirius." 

And that's how it all started. A silly video sent almost automatically to her best friend and an outrageous bet made y/n's night definitely interesting. To her luck though, Sirius became a permanent presence and not a one-night sensation.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Tagging: @seldomabsent

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Reason to Love

Draco thought that dread would fill him as he stared across the ballroom at Harry. He had hoped dread would fill him. That would have meant that part of him had moved on. But even as the green eyes he loved so much filled with a hatred that he wished he too felt, all that remained in his veins was pain—agonizing pain that hurt just as badly as it did when Harry walked out of his flat, and then more importantly his life.

Deep breaths and calming thoughts did nothing to soothe his hyperactive heartbeat the longer he stared. Propriety—which had been instilled in him at birth—was chagrined at the notion of prolonged focus, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Months of no contact deluded his mind into thinking even an extended blink would cause Harry to disappear as if he had only ever been a product of wishful thinking.

Their locked gazes ceased being mutual as Harry turned to his date, successfully blocking Draco from his line of sight, who was left standing there staring at his back—like a weirdo.

With a lot of strength that would have disgusted who he had been emotionally even just a year ago, Draco moved across the room toward the balcony—ignoring everyone who made space to talk to him, knowing it would reach his mother come morning but he had long ago lost his will to give a fuck.

As Draco looked over the railing, mind not fully seeing the landscape as his distracted thoughts took over, part of him wished he did give a fuck. Because the person staring blankly at gaudy untrimmed hedges was a mess. A distinguished mess, sure, but a mess nonetheless—one he didn’t appreciate seeing echoed in his reflection when he could no longer hide from the lies that others believed so easily.

I am fine.

It fell off the tongue quickly; a gut reaction to deflect from the glaring obvious. He wasn’t fine and the only one who knew the truth was the same one who stared back at him in the bathroom mirror every morning.

Lying came naturally. If not because of who he was, then it was the Slytherin characteristics he embodied because he had no other personality traits to rely on. It was easy to lie, especially when those around him wanted it to be the truth. Convincing them was a breeze, but convincing himself was impossible.

His eyes slipped closed as he took a few deep breaths, wishing that it was as calming as his Mind Healer preached. Sweat beaded on his forehead and despite being outside, all it brought him was the sweltering humidity of the summer night.

“I’d say you have a lot of nerve showing up here, but you never had that, so let’s just call it stupidity and be done with it.”

Draco’s lips parted as he withheld a breathless gasp at the sound of Harry’s voice. A sound he wasn’t sure his memory properly emulated over the last few months, it seemed different. Or maybe it was because it was filled with the same hatred that had been in Harry’s gaze.

He didn’t want to turn around, and despite how bloody cowardice that was, he hadn’t been put in Gryffindor for a reason. Turning around meant facing not just Harry but facing all the lies he had been telling himself. If Draco turned around, his sense of stability would shatter just as easily as his heart did when Harry left.

I am fine.

With the smallest shred of gumption he possessed, Draco squared his shoulders and did the stupid thing by turning around.

Being up close granted him nothing more than being across the room had. It wasn’t as if he felt better, in all actuality he felt worse. At least far away he had been able to keep a semblance of distance even if it was just an illusion. Up close the hatred in Harry’s eyes was more prominent, held more emotion and made it impossible to hide from, even if he glanced away.

“Stupidity is the root of bravery, you should know that,” Draco countered, not bothering to try and find comfort in the insults. Those used to be Harry’s favorite way of showing affection.

“That’s where you and I are different,” Harry said, voice as quiet as the breeze that Draco wished would combat the humidity. But in reality, all it did was make him feel worse. “You never had a flair for that.”

While entirely accurate, it stung a little.

“What do you want?” Draco couldn’t help but ask. “If it’s just to insult me, save the foreplay for your date, will you?”

Wishful thinking had him imagining the hatred in Harry’s eyes dimming enough for annoyance to take over. While Draco was adept at handling both, annoyance was far easier.

“You knew I’d be here,” Harry said, eyes roaming Draco’s face in a manner that made him uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t aware you bought out the Ministry,” Draco drawled, hating the familiarity to the banter. “If need be, do check the invitation list, won’t you? My name is on it.”  

“You’ve avoided every function where we’d be in the same room, excuse me for thinking you’d do the same tonight.”

There was something in the tone that had Draco frowning. There was clearly annoyance, but he wasn’t sure at what. Was Harry upset that he hadn’t been around? Or was he upset that he showed up?

“You’ve been missing me, have you?” It was supposed to be sarcastic but a piece of Draco longed to know the answer, no matter how pathetic it made him feel.

There was no answer, only a hard stare that held far too many emotions to decipher. The longer Harry remained silent, the more he feared there would be no answer at all. The dark parts of his mind that never once believed the lies he tried to delude himself into whispered, did he have the right to know?

“I’m not sure,” Harry finally answered after several long uncomfortable moments. “There are times I think I hate you, and then there are times when I wonder why it has to be the present and why it can’t be four months ago when I loved you so strongly.”

The agonizing pain returned and it was strong enough to close his eyes. Getting answers wasn’t always a good thing. Now all Draco wanted was for Harry to shut up.

“And the middle ground?” Draco wondered. “Which one is more prominent?”

Harry exhaled deeply, strong enough to blow away strands of messy unkempt hair.

“I don’t know.”

Strangely, that hurt Draco the most. The indecisive approach to love.

“That’s where you and I are different,” Draco parroted Harry’s words, watching the way something gleamed in his eyes.

“If there is a reason to love, then that means the love changes when the reason is gone. I loved you without any reason,” Draco blinked rapidly, wishing the stinging of his eyes was because of the sweat still marring his face.

“While the temperament of your love has changed, mine hasn’t. It’s still there; whole, intact and going without pause.”

It was Harry’s turn to close his eyes as he covered his face briefly.

“I wish I could be like you,” Draco admitted what his teenage self never would have. “Not just your characteristics, not just your bravery, but perhaps if I loved like you did, then I’d be able to move on. If I let my love get bitter or angry then it would let in distance, would let in reasons to change it.”

Knowing that Harry’s love had changed and hearing it were two different things. It wasn’t fair. Harry got to be angry, got to fester over it and got to find closure even if it came in waves of pain. All Draco was left with was pain while the love was still there. But if love when bruised, torn and scratched remained one-sided, it would only ever lead to more pain.

“Who says I moved on?”

The question had his brows arching as he tried to understand why Harry seemed to bristle.

“Are you saying you haven’t?”

When Harry threw his hands in the air, Draco grew more confused.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered, and for the first time in a long time the tone was lost. “It comes and goes. There are days where I don’t think of you at all and it feels like a step in moving on, but then when I least expect it, you creep up into my mind and it breaks my heart all over again.”

“Despite what you might think, I’ve never wanted to hurt you,” Draco said, unable to keep the desperation to be believed from seeping through. There were a lot of assumptions people had of him, and he never bothered to correct them. Letting people believe what they wanted to was far easier than changing their mind. But the one thing he couldn’t do was let Harry think that he never cared.

There was a soft devastation to Harry’s face before, “I know that, I’ve always known that.”  

“Then I don’t—”

“I haven’t moved on,” Harry said, and the determination to the tone held a touch of surprise, as if Harry was only just realizing. “Because even when I think of you and it hurts I still wouldn’t want that to go away. I don’t want to one day think of you and it not bring me back to happy times. I don’t want to think of you and it be a distant memory with no emotion. I want to think of you and feel something, even if it hurts.”

“That’s not healthy,” Draco blurted before his mind caught up with what he was really hearing.

Harry snorted, lips tilting up in a ghost of a smile. One that still caused his heart to skip a beat, followed by a jolt of pain with the knowledge that he had forgotten how beautiful it was.

“And you’re the epitome of healthy, are you?” Harry returned, lips still quirked.  

“No,” Draco shook his head, unable to banter when the truth of the statement touched a bit too close to home. “If I was, I wouldn’t love you like this. Not with the same ferocity, not with the same passion. Not when it hurts me like this.”

Harry shifted on the balls of his feet as his tongue swiped across a plump bottom lip nervously. “What if I don’t want you to be healthy?”

There was a beat of silence as Draco’s squinted, forehead creasing harshly. “Come again?”

A red flush graced tanned cheeks as Harry’s hands waved frantically. “That came out wrong.”

“It always did when it came to you.” Was that a tease? Draco wasn’t sure that was wise. Not when it would just hurt more in the end.

A glare with little heat was sent his way and Draco hated that he craved it, hated that a simple glare could cause his breath to quicken and the tempo of his heart rate increase.

“What if we attempt something,” Harry gestured between them with a hand. “Again?”

Oh boy.

Draco took a deep breath,  not daring himself to hope, not even sure if it was all real or just another illusion to lie to himself with.

“Is that wise?” Draco asked, ever the worrier. “It hurts now, I don’t want to imagine the pain should it happen again. I don’t think I’m ready for that.” No matter how much he wanted it.

“Give me a chance to love you without reason too.”

How could something so sweet hurt more than cruelty? Draco’s heart felt close to breaking, wasn’t sure he had much more in him.

“Not to mention your love is torn, isn’t it?” He continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “You weren’t sure about the love and hate, that can’t have changed already.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

“Not when it’s my heart that’s the causality.”

“Both of our hearts,” corrected Harry.

“Exactly,” Draco said with a small shrug. “Not even an hour ago you were glaring at me, it’s not so easy to let go of the bitterness, even if you love me too. I think we need time to acclimate, maybe find out what’s different. It has been months, I’m sure things have changed.”

There was a flash of amusement in green eyes and Draco almost regretted the whole conversation.

“You wanting to woo me, Malfoy?”

Malfoy.

Merlin, it was a breath of fresh air to hear his surname from Harry. What started out as a formality, never being granted the pleasure of the familiarity enough to use first names during their youth, had changed into fondness as they dated.

Malfoy.

The name that brought pride to his father but shame to him.

Malfoy.

The name that was only ever uttered with animosity and contempt.

Malfoy.

The name that fell from Harry’s lips with love and not a hint of a sneer.

Malfoy.

“Yeah,” Draco began, a small reserved smile quirking his lips. “I think I do.”

He was Malfoy, and on his favorite occasions, he was Harry’s Malfoy.  

[hypfic]

May I request pining➡️confession shortfic with Sasara?

genre: pining, confessions, slice of life

warnings: n/a [mentions of alcohol]

pairing: sasara x reader

you got it! 

I’ll admit, when starting this I had no clue how to write for Sasara, but then I wound up writing three pages of fic so... enjoy! lol 

I added a little wing man Rosho in there too :) he cares for Sasara

    Sasara bounced his leg nervously as he impatiently sat waiting on a bench outside the school’s gates. He glanced at his phone once every thirty-seconds, frowning at the lack of notifications. There were about ten more minutes till school got out, ten more minutes of agony. 

    You were introduced to Sasara by one of your coworkers, Rosho, when you went to his apartment to drink one evening after work. Rosho had pushed the two of you together because apparently you “had an annoyingly high amount of things in common” and “Sasara can annoy another teacher that isn’t me”. You were sure Rosho truly didn’t mind Sasara’s company, especially since they’d been friends for so long, but you appreciated the gesture. Sasara had immediately piqued your interest. He had a demeanor that instantly drew you in, a personality that made you curious to learn more. Following that first night, the two of you exchanged contact information and had been texting each other since. Sasara always made the effort to bring you lunch whenever he stopped by to speak to Rosho about division matters, sometimes with another mysterious man. You felt like you were dancing circles around Sasara, toeing the line between flirting and being close friends. 

    It had been going on for months. Once Rosho introduced the two of you, Sasara could rarely keep his mind off of you. He made the excuse of having to come to the school you and Rosho worked at to speak division business just to bring you lunch. Every time Rosho saw him in the halls he’d roll his eyes. He introduced you to him so he would have someone else to talk to, to get him to not bug him at work, but instead, Rosho’s plan backfired and Sasara was now constantly pestering him for information about you. 

    “Sasara! Hey!” You waved to the man on the bench as you ran out the school gates to greet him, grinning as you stopped in front of him, rocking back and forth on your heels. “Rosho said he had to stay late to finish grading some exams so he won’t be able to join us for drinks tonight, so it looks like it’s just us!”

    “Ah man, he left me with you? Does he want to torture me?” Sasara teased, chuckling nervously as he looked at his phone. There was a message from Rosho that read: ‘hope you don’t mind the rain check, I figured it was about time you took the training wheels off and asked y/n out’. He shook his head and slipped his phone into his pocket, smiling at you as he stood. “Welp, now that Rosho isn’t joining us, that means more drinks for us!”

    You laughed and nodded your head, “Thank goodness! This week was rough, you’d never believe what happened on Tuesday…” You chatted with Sasara as the two of you walked towards the bar a short way from the campus you worked at, filling him in with all the teacher gossip and rumors you overheard in the halls. 

“Oh! And the craziest thing happened today too! Someone dropped off roses at the front desk for me! I have no clue who it was though… there wasn’t a note or anything...  I did put them in a nice vase in my classroom! Do you think I should have brought them with me?”

    “A-ah, Nah, I think they’ll be fine.” Sasara’s heart skipped a beat as you mentioned the roses he’d dropped off earlier in the day. So you did receive them. He wasn’t sure since you hadn’t mentioned anything or had them in hand, he didn’t know whether or not to be relieved or more nervous. He was hoping that you’d bring them out with you so he could tell you they were from him…

    Once the two of you got to the bar, the bartender ushered you to your usual seating, raising a brow at the lack of the third member of your trio. 

    “Oh, Rosho had to stay at work late! Exam season, ya know? Left me all by myself with Sasara, could you believe that?”

    The bar was surprisingly slow for a Friday night, with only a few couples scattered throughout the venue. Maybe it was the time of year where a lot of businessmen, educators, and students were busy, or maybe it was just an off night. You ordered your drinks and a few snacks, your insides warming as the alcohol touched your lips. Sasara laughed at every little joke you made, which was extremely flattering coming from him. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting in the room or the beer, but you could have sworn that you saw him blush at a few of your flirtatious comments. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room, hell the only person in the world. Maybe you were imagining things… you had to be. Sasara excused himself and stood to use the restroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Was this a date? Were all the times the two of you hung out when Rosho couldn’t make it dates? You liked him, obviously, but did he like you? You pouted your lips and rested your chin in your hand as you leaned against the table, tracing the rim of your near-empty glass with your finger. 

    In the bathroom, Sasara stared at himself in the mirror. You had been flirting with him all night… maybe. You had been, right? He wasn’t drunk enough to misread that, right? He sighed and pulled out his phone to text Rosho, cursing him for leaving you two alone. He didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t. He knew this was Sasara’s challenge to face, not his. Right. So how to go about this… should he just tell you? Or should he be more discreet about it? Maybe straightforward was the way to go. He took a deep breath before exiting the restroom and making his way back to you. 

   “You ok?” You asked as he slid back into the seat across from you. Sasara looked pale. 

    “Yeah, yeah, no I’m fine! Great actually! Uh…” He locked eyes with you and reached for his drink, shooting the rest of it back for some last-minute bravery. “I wanted to talk to you about somethin, actually.”

    “O-Ok? What’s on your mind?”

    “Well, you see, tonight has been really great, with just the two of us, wouldn’t you agree?”

    “Mmm, yes I suppose~ It is quite nice to just enjoy your company, keep it all to myself.”

    Sasara grinned. “Y/n I have a proposition for you if you’ll hear me out.”

    “Sure! Shoot.”

    “Go out with me. Like this, except maybe at a nice restaurant every now and then, or a festival. Movies at my place maybe? Wine on the couch kinda thing? I’ll get you more flowers too.”

    “Those roses were from you?” Your eyes widened as a smile spread across your lips. “Aww~”

    “Don’t make it embarrassing! God… I haven’t felt stagefright in a long time until now.”

    “Stagefright? Sasara, I think what you’re feeling is being in love.” You reached out and took his hand from across the table. “I would love to go out with you, Sasara. However you’d like.”

[asciendo]

Aftermath

Make it Right Series Chapter 12

Jean was the cocky bastard that walked around like he owned the place. Y/N couldn’t stand so when the time came that you were his sparring partner, you couldn’t wait to teach him a lesson.

Little did the both of you know, that sparring match would be the start of your unexpected relationship with Jean Kirschtein, that will change your life, and the rest of the Scout Regiment forever.

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 9/Chapter 10/Chapter 11/Chapter 13/Chapter 14/Chapter 15/Chapter 16/Chapter 17/Chapter 18/Chapter 19/Chapter 20/Chapter 21

Tag list:  @empty-glass-full-of-emotion @dai-tsukki-desu @usernamehere91

After the attack on Trost, you were shaken. The things you saw and the people that you've lost were playing in your head like a broken record. Seeing Thomas' face as he was swallowed, how mina tearfully struggled to escape the Titan's grip but failed.

After Jean's embrace you looked up at him with longing and fear and he shut his eyes and leant his forehead on yours.

"Did you know about this?" Connie whispered to Reiner who just shrugged. You made your way to HQ and cleaned yourself up.

You and Jean still weren't speaking as there was still tension between the two of you, but, both shared relief that you were both alright.

Jean couldn't sleep that night. First, he wanted to talk to Marco but he couldn't seem to find him. There was a request for volunteers to help civilians and he assumed Marco was one of them. He wanted to talk about you. He forgot why he was so mad at you in the first place. After seeing all the deaths, the titans had caused first-hand, he felt a sense of heaviness and indecisiveness about his decision to join the Military Police.

Of course he was terrified, he saw multiple comrades get eaten alive. But then he thought about you. The idea of you being out there, with the titans and if something happened to you and he wasn't there to protect you...the thought of you dying outside the walls without him was worse than the idea of him getting eaten by a titan.

Jean was determined to find you. He jumped out of his bed and made his way out. But as soon as he reached the front of the boys' dormitory he heard voices outside, one of them clearly being yours. He peeked out and saw you slumped over and Bertholdt sitting next to you. He had his arm over your shoulders and Jean's heart clenched. He couldn't hold it in, there were tears forming in his eyes of sadness and frustration, at you, Bertholdt and especially himself. If he wasn't such an idiot, you wouldn't have gotten close to Bertholdt. It would have been Jean's shoulders you were crying on.

The next day, you were in the dining hall with Bertholdt and Reiner. You were still shaken up, barely touching your food. "Come on, Y/N. You have to eat something." Bertholdt said quietly and you slowly brought the soup close to your mouth and sipped. "It will get easier, I promise." Reiner offered a light smile and you wondered how he seemed calmer about the deaths of the other cadets.

Jean sat in the table in front of you with Connie and Sasha. He looked at you with sadness and as you were about to motion him to talk outside, he quickly looked down. Your heart dropped. You missed him. You needed him. You told yourself to slowly accept that whatever you had with Jean was over and that moment on the wall was just that—a moment.

Two days later, Jean was assigned to help remove the bodies from Trost. He hated it. He wanted to go back to HQ and just wallow in his sorrow and confusion about what to do.

Jean was lost in his thoughts until he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and chest tightened. Marco. Marco was lying there. Half his face was torn off and he was slumped over. Jean's mind suddenly flashed back to Marco's smile, how he was always looking out for Jean despite his cold demeanor. How Marco encouraged Jean to lead and lifted him up. He walked towards Marco's corpse slowly, hand shaking.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?!" Jean grabbed the collar of a nearby soldier who was shaking his head. Jean let go and continued to stare at Marco's body in disbelief.

"Do you know him?"

"Excuse me, do you know him?" A voice suddenly rung in his ear. "U-uhm w-what?" Jean stammered but still kept his eyes on Marco's body. "Do you know him?" the nurse motioned to Marco and Jean nodded slowly. "Yes."

"What's his name?" Jean gulped as he was still trying to process Marco's lifeless body. "Marco Bodt." Jean states with no emotion as his mind completely shut down. "Get back to work." The nurse commands and Jean leaves without looking back.

That night, the 104th Cadets burn the corpses of their fallen comrades in a bonfire. You were slumped alone in the corner watching the bodies burn. Your mind shifted back to seeing Thomas and Mina die and you were in a daze. "Y/N." You looked up, Bertholdt had his arm out and you took it as he lifted you up. "Let's get out of here." He smiled and you followed.

From the other side of the bonfire, Jean stared at both of you with anger and hurt. He quickly shifts his gaze from you to the bonfire and his mind goes to Marco. Watching the bones of his friends' burn, Jean remembers Eren's speech and Marco's compliment about his strengths. Mourning Marco's death and internalizing his words of encouragement, Jean leaves knowing he has a lot to think about.

It's the evening of enlistment. This was the time the cadets would decide which regiment they would be joining.

The Cadets are waiting while Jean, Conny, Armin and Sasha further ponder about their decision. A soldier then tells them to line up. Later, Erwin Smith stands before them in order to have the soldiers join his branch. He explains about the future mission of the regiment and even reveals the information about the basement of Eren's old house, much to Armin's surprise who wonders if Erwin has some hidden motive. However, Erwin also tells them about the grim future of a Scout Regiment soldier - in the last 4 years, 60% have died.

Your freeze. You begin to question your decision. Seeing the fear in your fallen comrades faces, for a split second, you were thinking of going back to your original decision to join the Garrison or even the Military Police. A life with Jean in the interior played in your head and your heart lightened. But then, remembering your family, how the Titans destroyed Trost, who would you be if you didn't fight?

When Erwin's speech ended and people began to leave after, you shut your eyes and prayed you would stay still. The last thing you were was a coward, and you weren't backing out now.

As Erwin dismisses the cadets, you hear footsteps leave. When Erwin returned to praise the remaining cadets for their bravery, you opened your eyes and looked around. Armin and Mikasa were in the front along with Reiner and Bertholdt which didn't surprise you as they expressed interest to join the Scouts. You saw Ymir, Christa, a shivering Connie and a tearful Sasha then your heart stopped. There was Jean. Standing behind you with his head up staring straight at Erwin. Your mouth dropped at the sight. You've never seen him more determined and you wondered what made him change his mind. As Erwin continued to praise the remaining cadets, your eyes were on Jean the whole time.

Jean knew he had to join the Scouts. He was afraid to die, but, after seeing Marco's body, knowing he wasn't there to protect him, the thought of losing anyone else was unbearable. When the rest of the cadets left and Erwin was back on stage, he saw your face as you spotted him. He wanted so much to run to you and hold you, to let you know that he'd protect you outside the walls. But as soon as you were dismissed, you were right there next to Bertholdt and his face dropped.

After talking with Bertholdt, you learned Marco died. You couldn't hold in your tears as the image of Marco's smile appeared in your mind. Then you thought of Jean. "J-jean.."

You were aware of Jean's relationship with Marco. He always told you how Marco was one of the few people that could make him laugh and how he'd keep him in check. You liked Marco too, whenever training was hard, he was always the positive one which you appreciated and got you through the day.

You whispered and Bertholdt looked down, "You should talk to him." You nodded. The events in the past few days made you realize that your pride wasn't worth losing him, if something happened to Jean and you weren't with him, it was worse than getting eaten by a Titan.

Bertholdt told you about his childhood how his father pushed him to be a soldier which is why he was more mentally prepared for death. You assumed Reiner was as well as they were from the same town.

Your talk ended and you made your way back to your room. Despite being terrified on what waited for you outside the walls, you know it was the right choice.

Opening your door, you were ready to pass out and rest as you haven't slept for days. But as soon as you walked in, you froze. Jean was seated on your bed with his head buried in his hands, then his head shot up and looked at you, like he's just seen you for the first time.

[luvlyrv]

Our Songs | Extra | Wendy x F!Reader SM!AU

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: So happy to say this series is completely finished now!! Enjoy!! I'm moving onto more projects and hopefully can wrap up some one shots I've been working on. This is a different style from what I usually do since it is an extra, warning that the post looks really long because it's in bulleted style lol

Date: 9/1/21

Series Masterlist

after your confession with wendy you were stuck with an enormous burst of energy

you were on cloud nine, a seemingly never-ending high

you decided not to text wendy the day right after

you didn't want her to think you regretted anything but you also didn't want to seem too clingy

also it didn't help that just thinking about her was enough to throw you into cardiac arrest

you didn't receive any notifications from wendy either

it was a bit disappointing, but you assumed she was also trying to take in the shock of it all

trying to take your mind off of wendy you spend an entire day running around your house

you pick up your instruments and have the jam of your life

emotional highs are very good for your creativity it seems

you decide to record some things and save some drafts

who knows if it'll be useful in the future?

you worked till you felt dead tired and like you couldn't have another thought in your brain

even after you spent an entire day trying to exert your nervous and elated energy you were still hesitating on texting wendy when you woke up

but you missed her so much already

so you send a text asking her how she feels

she says she feels okay, and then asks about you

'yeah, i'm okay too'

your conversation was rocky

things weren't going as smooth as before

and it was evident that it was because the both of you had no idea how to behave

you took a deep breath before texting her your question

'so, can i take you on that first date?'

you see a bubble showing that she was texting

and then it disappeared

before showing up again

and disappearing

and- ugh! your heart was racing waiting for her answer

i mean, she liked you back right? so why would she say no?

'yeah, of course! :)'

whew, okay, looked like you almost made a big deal out of nothing

little did you know wendy was freaking out

she was a bit embarrassed at herself, acting as if she was a high school kid in love or something

it took wayyy too much concentration for her to type out something sensible

but she was excited for you to finally ask

you were also excited for her to say yes

your first date is at the downtown center

there was a festival and you were hoping to enjoy all the effort the artisans put into their work with wendy

you're walking with her through the numerous stalls set up

as the both of you admire the beautiful crafts set on display your hand reaches for hers

you feel the pressure of her hand squeezing back and you look at her

she looks at you and giggles

you didn't even realize what you were doing

'oh, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to do that suddenly.' you freak out and let go of her hand

you're worried that she was laughing at you and that she didn't want to hold hands

'it's okay! i thought it was cute'

she reaches out for you and you don't let go this time

instead you enjoy how happy she seems to be sharing this moment with you

and out in public too

later on you both go to the square where there were musicians

the sun was beginning to set, allowing for beautiful lighting and you appreciated songs you've never listened to before

wendy tugs at your arm while still staring at the performers

'i hope we can perform up there someday. together.'

you smile at her as she still looks on

'i think we will.' you assure her

finally night hits and you both call it a day

you walk her to her car and stop her

you kiss her forehead

'so, will there be a second?' you ask with a smile

you feel like you already know the answer

'i think that sounds great.'

life with wendy in it became easy

you guys seldom fought

and even when you did at least one of you would make something for the other

dropping it off at the doorstep and leaving an apology note

and after enough time of cooling down you would always come back to each other, talking out your problems from before

you personally felt like your work improved as well

wendy had become your muse

you sought to create tracks that would impress her

or that would be worthy of having her voice in it

and you felt like it was easier to write lyrics

because every experience with wendy created new feelings

feelings that you could hardly describe sometimes

when you guys decided to finally start working on your second collaboration you busted out the drafts you created long ago

wendy was impressed after sitting down and listening to your drafts

'woah, how many hidden gems do you have on your computer?'

'well, these ones in particular i made on the same day. the day after i confessed to you.'

you're both flustered

because it's easy to tell the kind of state you were in by the songs

wendy takes your hand and kisses it gently as your music continued to play

'you must think of me pretty highly, if the thought of me compelled you to make something so incredible'

you heat up at her cheesiness

'oh stop it.'

the two of you end up choosing a refreshing feeling/sound for the album

'cause you recharge me every time i see you!' she says

when you guys are almost done producing the album, that was when you went on the dinner date with wendy

the one where you guys would finally confess to the world

after recording and uploading the announcement video the both of you decided to turn off your notifications and avoid reading people's reactions

instead you guys opted to spend the rest of the day baking and then watching a movie together

the both of you decided that it would be stressful to engage with your audience right away, and that's why it took a full day for you both to check your phones again

both seulgi and yeri already knew about your relationship but they both flooded you guys with congratulations anyways

they just wanted you to know they were proud of your bravery!

besides them, both of your families already knew and didn't comment much

they'd already stated how they think you're good for each other when you guys had visited together

especially your younger cousin

cause apparently she's a big fan of wendy and is definitely not using you as a way to get close to her idol

and is definitely not bragging about her how cousin is 'super super cool and famous and is dating another famous person and i think they'll be rich someday!!! so get on my nice side!'

you're happy to see that a lot of fans are happy for your relationship

wendy just keeps telling you 'of course they are, who wouldn't for a cute ass couple like us?'

it was at that point that you guys had decided to save up and move into a nice place together

you guys had talked about future plans before

not only that, but you had been practically living together already

between all the dates that lead to seemingly indefinite sleepovers

and the recent collaboration that made you guys be stuck together

it was really you guys living at each other's place weeks at a time

when you guys move in you're grateful

because you get to experience all the little things from her even more

some nights when you're stressed she rubs circles on your back to help you sleep

when you guys shower together she takes her time to carefully wash your hair

it was those deeply intimate moments that made you the happiest

both of your careers were doing really well due to the reception of your second collab and all the media fuss that happened with your dating annoucement

you both still have solo careers and interact with other musicians

but along with moving in, you guys decided to become a duo and consistently create music together

in the morning when you share breakfast you always remind her how good life is and how thankful you are

[narrators-journal]

Working late

Previous: Here

For the rest of the time Ango had off, he spent with you. It was a nice time, and it made him happier than he had been in a long while to have someone to talk to that wasn't Tsujimura. It also helped that he could talk about something other than his job with you, as well as have something to think about aside from said job. So, in the end, he didn't regret trying out that dating app, even though he'd been so skittish to build a connection with someone. You, meanwhile, didn't seem to care about all of the flaws he brought up on your dates. You were fine with him not having much time to do much, and seemed to accept that this long stretch of time off wasn't his usual schedule. Thankfully, you didn't pry into why he'd suddenly gotten a month off if it wasn't normal.              "I'm not looking for a constant partner. I can deal with taking things slow and being long distance," You assured on the second to last day of his break, wrapping an arm around him in a small hug, "My only demand is that I'm allowed to send you stuff and keep in contact as much as possible. Please just don't ghost me." He nodded, and with that, you seemed pretty content with that, letting him leave to return to work after his month off. Sadly, his happiness was swiftly squished under the weight of the work Taneada gave him upon his return. Of course, it wasn't a surprise to him, his boss had always been keen on shoving piles of work at him whenever he could get away with it. So, he just dug in and focused on catching up for the month of work he'd missed. So, another week passed uneventfully. Ango hadn't gone home more than two or three times, instead opting to crash on one of the decorative office couches for small naps when he got too exhausted to continue to work at times. He was swiftly exhausted, struggling to keep awake and to avoid completely crashing and sleeping for most of the day during his little naps. Though, it wasn't all bad. He tried his best to reach out to you when he could, and you were one of the few bright spots he had on the days where he was too busy to go home. (y/n): You doing alright? Wishing for another vacation yet lol.Ango: Very much so, but the paperwork is pretty standard, so it's nothing too taxing. (y/n): Ew, that sounds so boring. Ango: It is. That's why I didn't go into detail about my job, other than some of it being classified. (y/n): Yeah, kinda would've ruined dinner if I fell asleep to your paperwork chat lol. Ango: Lol. He smiled as he read your casual messages while he laid in the dark office long after even Tsujimura and Taneada had gone home, leaving him with the night security guards and little else in the way of coworkers. Usually, Ango just went to sleep as quickly as possible, having honed the skill of falling asleep on command pretty much, but when you'd checked in on him, he was fine with staying up to talk to you and unwind that way, and when his phone vibrated to notify him of another of your messages, he was further encouraged to stay awake out of pure curiosity. (y/n): Hey, Ango, I might know a way for you to destress. Ango: What is it? Yoga?(y/n): Nope! With that message, you sent a photo attachment, and he turned quite red before he'd even opened the file. Oh god, please don't be up for sexting. I'm much too rusty at that. He quickly plead internally, than, after swallowing the anxious lump in his throat, he opened the picture. Sure enough, it was a risque photo of yourself, nothing nude, but he got a healthy hint of what you looked like beneath your clothing. It brought a bright red color to his pale cheeks, but he didn't dislike the image, in fact, it honestly sent a bolt of excitement straight to his pants. Though, he was then faced with the predicament of responding. Fuck, do I comment on their body? Their underwear? He mulled over his options for a long moment and tried to formulate a good response that didn't sound too rude, but in the end he still struggled. Ango: Why the sexual image? Ango: You look nice, Ango:Your undergarments are rather cute. (y/n): Lol, take your time, dear. Ango let his phone fall to his chest after that and just scrubbed at his face with both of his hands, being mindful of his round glasses, then wiped his sweaty palms on the couch before finally sending a response he didn't delete. Ango: I'm sorry if I seem rude, I'm not used to being sent photos. You are very attractive. (y/n): Awww, thank you~ Have you really not been sent risque pictures before? Ango: Not really, haven't had many partners before to try. (y/n): Lolol, well dear, it's usually good etiquette to send a pic in return if you want😉 That sent another hot bolt of thrill to his groin, but he wasn't super sure on whether he should give into that lascivious voice in his head. Is it really smart to do this? They could use any compromising pictures against you. The anxious voice in his head whispered, but, after a moment or two of debating, the glasses-wearing man took a deep breath and let it out slowly, I guess it wouldn't hurt, as long as I don't show my face it shouldn't be that bad, even if they does use it against me. Besides, I can't exactly sleep comfortably after this, might as well take a photo while I'm at it. He told himself, using a bit of reasoning to curb how anxious he felt on his way to the men's room, the one rare place where there wasn't any security cameras. Once safely hidden in a stall with his phone, out of the view of any of the night guards or security cameras, Ango took a moment to relax so his hands didn't shake too badly, then, pulled his pants down just enough to let his semi-erect member free. He then took a moment to figure out how to take a passable picture and sent it off, his cheeks now as red as a rose and his gut was in a maelstrom of nerves, excitement, and arousal while waiting the painfully slow minute it took for you to reply to his picture. When you did, it was with a second image, (y/n): I appreciate your bravery~ Here, a final little picture for ya before I go to bed. Good night, Ango~ Your humor helped to relax him after such a nerve-wracking adventure into such a new territory. Not to say Ango wasn't a puritan, he'd had sex more than once, and he was pretty flexible with what he did in bed, but sending lewd photos from work was a new, anxiety-filled experience. Although, his stiffened member didn't seem to care about that paranoia. Fuelled by your second, slightly more risque image, his member now demanded to be dealt with before he even thought of sleep.He let out a little sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair, taking his glasses off and setting them carefully on the back of the toilet before shutting his dark green eyes and began to slowly stroke himself. The friction his hand gave, paired with the images now in his mind was the perfect mix to form fantasies starring you. Thoughts of you taking his long-neglected member into your mouth, or maybe riding him, so many thoughts that made his erection twitch filled his mind, trickling in as he finally fed his long neglected sexual needs ever so slightly. He hadn't done so in so long that he forgot just how addictive it could be to chase that delicious boost of happy chemicals masturbation could give him, but he was highly enjoying rediscovering the pleasure of the friction from his hands when paired with the fantasy of you being the one to stroke his twitching member until the pleasure reached its peek and a groan was yanked from his throat and quickly muffled as his body tensed and his brain was filled with static for a few moments. When he'd come down from that high, his euphoria was quickly replaced by immense shame, so he was swift to put his softening dick away and scrub up the evidence of his alone time. He put his glasses back on, straightened his clothes, and took a few deep breaths to slow his pounding heart and lessen the stain to his cheeks before he left the bathroom and returned to the couch. This time, he just went to sleep.

[the-lady-writes-what]

23. Hitoshi Shinsou

          Theme: Haunted mirror, dark spirit

          Kinks: Mind control, fear play, bondage, non-con, cum play, fingering, possession 

All underaged characters are aged up. Hitoshi Shinsou is 18+, plus this is a demon AU so he's technically way older than that. Don’t come for me unless I send for you.

Warning: This contains very graphic and dark material including but not limited to non-con, unwilling bondage, and forced orgasms. Reader discretion is advised. Scary ending. 

Masterlist

Your friends noticed it first. The way your new mirror behaved strangely. Mirrors don’t misbehave; they’re mirrors. That didn’t stop your friends from talking about the weird vibes your mirror gave them. Images shifted or wavered in its reflection. Fog appeared out of nowhere. Handprints appeared when no one touched it; puffs of air clouded the surface. It was as if someone invisible lived on the other side of the mirror. Despite all their warnings and misgivings, the mirror stayed in your hallway.

“Okay, Y/N, that mirror has to go,” said Jiro.

You furrowed your brows. This wasn’t the first time Jiro, and others, suggested it. The massive antique mirror with its ornate frame continued to hang in your hall. You rolled your eyes a second later. 

“What did you see more handprints, or was it a ghost this time?” You asked half-joking.

“It was a whole-ass face is what I was looking at!” Said Jiro.

“A face, really?” Your brow shot upwards. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that you saw a deadman in my rearview mirror.”

“Jiro’s right, Y/N. I saw it too,” said Momo.

Ochaco shuddered. “It was so creepy. Its eyes were staring into my soul.” 

“Not you too.” You sighed.  

“Get rid of that mirror!” All at once, your three friends shouted.  

“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just a mirror, you guys. I’ve never seen anything weird. It’s just your imagination.”

Your friends didn’t appreciate you discounting their concerns. In truth, you didn’t see even half of what they claimed. The mirror was old, gathered a lot of dust, and was slightly warped. It was a unique piece that you got for a steal.

A steal alright. That should have been your first red flag, you remember Jiro a week after you purchased it. Why would anyone sell an antique mirror for so cheap?

You ignored her jab and polished it up. You ignored Jiro’s warnings now too. Your patience was growing thin with your friends because of their ghost stories and things appearing in the mirror. It was borderline ridiculous. The joke had lost its punchline a long time ago. 

“There’s somebody I know who can tell you we’re not crazy. If you don’t believe her, fine. Suit yourself. But if you’re wrong, you have to pitch it.”

You shrug your shoulders. While everybody else snuck past the mirror, you were the only one to stop and look at your reflection. Just out of curiosity, you stared at it and hoped to see an apparition like your friends said you would. There was only you in the mirror. No spooky handprints, no breath fogging up the other side of the mirror, no eyeballs piercing through your soul. It was just an old mirror. You rode in the car with your friends to a metaphysical shop on the other side of town.  

“Baba Yaga, this is the girl I was telling you about,” said Jiro as she gestured towards you. She was speaking with an elderly lady who wore a dark blue velvet dress and a floral shawl. “Tell her that she needs to get rid of her cursed mirror.”

She padded over to you, strolling with her knotted cane. The woman adjusted her glasses and squinted up at your face. Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits as she examined your pores. Suddenly, the woman grabbed your wrist and splayed your fingers outward. Wrinkled fingers caressed the palm of your hand, bent and examined your fingers. She shook her head from time to time and hummed to herself. 

Your fingers were curled back towards your palm. The older woman pressed both of her hands around you and held on. 

“You have a dark presence hovering over you, that’s for sure. It’s subtle, which makes it that much more evil. You can’t see the spirit in the mirror because it doesn’t want you to. You are in grave danger, young lady. Its power washes over you. The longer you keep that mirror, the more powerful it becomes.” You smiled politely. “I think I’ll be just fine, ma’am.”

“No, you won’t,” the old woman snapped. “You are in danger.” She repeated.

“You harbor a wicked spirit in your house. It will come to you on the night when Selene is covered by Zeus’ dark and stormy shroud. You must get rid of the mirror!” 

You snatched your hand away and spun on your heels. You didn’t wait for your friends. Instead of going to the car, you called for a cab. Your phone vibrated with the text messages they sent you, but you turned your phone on silent. You arrived home just as gray clouds settled across the sky. You didn’t think much of it until you heard rain on your windows and on your roof. You barely made it inside when the storm hit. 

It’s just a stupid coincidence, you told yourself. 

You walked into the hall to set your jacket and purse on the hanger placed in there. You couldn’t resist stopping by the mirror. You looked into it again. You stared into its depths until your eyes began to water. There was still no sign of the ghost your friends warned you about. 

You climbed up the stairs, took a bubble bath, and spent the rest of the night curled up in bed. You turned off the lights before slipping under the covers. Lighting peeled across the sky while thunder rolled. The rain helped you fall asleep, and you were warm underneath your blankets, safe and secure in the knowledge that nothing about the mirror could hurt you.

The sound of shattering glass woke you. You sat up in bed. Your hand instinctively reached for the lamp on your bedside table and tugged on the cord. Nothing. You pulled again, and your light refused to turn on. You checked your phone only to realize that your battery died despite still being plugged into a charger. You swore as you bolted out of bed. Testing the overhead light, you were again disappointed. 

You pulled your door open as quietly as possible and hoped your footsteps were light enough to avoid alarming the burglars. You grabbed an umbrella by your front door. It isn’t much, but the umbrella did have a pointy end. You crept softly, pushed forward by fear to know who was in your house. But as you tip-toed, something in the hallway sparkled and grabbed your attention by the throat. You stepped closer only to realize that they were mirror shards. Pieces of glass were shattered over your floor. The mirror’s frame was bent and split apart. It held together with only a couple bits of wire. 

Bile rose in your throat. You didn’t hear any footsteps or voices. You growled under your breath and glared at the mirror shards lying at your feet. No longer was it burglars you had to fear.

“That wasn’t funny, you guys!” You called out.

No one answered. You rushed back to the front door and reached for the lock, only to find that the lock was still set. Then you realized that nobody had a key to your house. Undoubtedly, your friends wouldn’t stoop so low as to break in just to smash your antique mirror. 

Floorboards creaked. It was in the living room. All your bravery sank like a stone. You dropped your makeshift weapon and scrambled for the stairs. All was cloying darkness. Your hands wrapped tight around the banister as you raced up the stairs. Once you were safe on the second floor, you ran to your room and slammed shut the door. Your fingers groped in the dark for the lock and twisted it. You pushed your desk in front of your door and slowly backed away. 

You walked backward to your bed then stopped dead in your tracks. You quit because you felt something tangible collide with your back. An arm like a redwood trunk snaked around your waist as a hand clapped across your mouth.

“Don’t scream just yet, little thing. Let me enjoy the smell of your fear first.” A voice husked against your ear. 

A tongue dragged along your earlobe. The deep chuckle following after laughed at your shudders as they ripped through your body. You clawed at hand on your mouth, but no amount of scratching could deter him. Whoever he was, he bent his head and pressed his nose where your shoulder and neck met. A hoarse grumble vibrated in his chest, which was bare. You felt his cold, clammy skin press against your back, solid as stone. You felt him through your nightshirt in all his muscled glory. Cold beads of sweat ran down the side of your face as you realized that there was no way you could fight him. 

“That’s a good girl. You know I’ve been watching you. All this time, I’ve been watching you. You must have really liked my mirror,” said he. 

Your brows furrowed into a deep V-shape. Thunder clapped overhead. The old woman’s words rang in your head like funeral bells. It will come to you on the night when Selene is covered by Zeus’ dark and stormy shroud. You felt your blood throb in every vein in your body. Your heart palpitated inside your chest.

“Ah, yes. There we go. I love more than just a little bit of fear. I want you to live in terror of me. You’ll taste that much better for me.”

An orange tongue of flame appeared out of nowhere. It hovered over your desk. Your eyes took a moment to get used to the sudden light. The arm at your waist loosened only for a pair of hands to grab your biceps and squeeze. You hissed as you felt bruises form on your skin.

The man spoke in your ear again.

“Go over there and fetch the light, but do not look back at me. You may only look at me by the light of that candle, do you understand?”

You didn’t. You only saw a tongue of flame flickering while it hovered over your desk. He released you. You padded over to the desk, which blocked your only exit. You reached out just below the tiny flame. In the blackness, your fingers grazed on some warm wax. Your fingers ran up and down along a long slender black candle that appeared in your hand. Your hand trembled as you took it up. 

“Good, good, you’re so wonderfully obedient. Now, slowly turn towards me and look upon the face of your new master.”

You didn’t want to, but your legs move of their own accord. You strained against the intangible threads pulling at your muscles and tendons. You felt the lower half of your body move separately from you, and you watched in horror as your feet turned to face him. You shut your eyes tight. 

“I said ‘look at me.” The man’s—no. The creature’s voice dropped several octaves, and it sounded as if multiple voices erupted from his throat. Your eyes snapped open against your will. Tears made their way down your face as your eyelids were peeled open so wide. Your pupils strained in the darkness briefly. By the lighten of the orange flame, you saw him. 

He was tall, muscled, and inhumanly pale. His skin was the color of moonlight on a grave. And his face gods his face. Belying his otherworldly, unearthly beauty lay the heart of a beast. Gray-purple crescents like grotesque dark circles hung under his eyes. Indigo eyes matched his hair, which he left in a mess. Like he just woke up from whatever hellscape he crawled out of. All of his muscles were taut and lean, further proving that you had no chance of fighting him off. Your feet padded across your bedroom floor towards him. An invisible hand held your chin high so that you met his gaze more clearly.

“My name is Hitoshi, and I was trapped in that mirror for four hundred years. I’ve been waiting for you. The incarnation of the witch who banished me there in the first place!” The creature spat. 

Your blood turned icy cold. 

“Please, please don’t kill me. I’m sorry. Let me, l-let me make it up to you. I promise I won’t hurt you ever again!” 

“My plan was never to kill you.” Hitoshi reached out with his stony hand, grabbed your waist, and pulled you flush against his body. “I plan to make you mine. Forever. Then you will know the horror of being trapped against your will.”

“What? NO!” 

The candle was snatched from your hand. Hitoshi turned and threw you unto the bed. The candle reappeared above your head and several other candles that melted into the bedroom’s shadows, cleaved through the air. Blidnign tongues of fire flickered above your bed. 

Your clothes were ripped off you, and the torn remains bound your hands together to the bedpost above your head. The same was done to your ankles. Hitoshi stood from the bed to admire his work. The black silken pants he wore slithered off his body, revealing his proud, jutting member and the bead of pre-cum on the blunt head. Hitoshi climbed on top of the bed. The bed dipped under his weight. You thrashed about in the vain hope to yank the knots undone. Hitoshi merely laughed at your efforts. 

“I suppose I’ll let you resist the first time. It’ll be more fun getting you to moan while I corrupt you.” His hands dragged upwards along your thigh. “From the inside out.”

You shook your head and cried aloud. No amount of protesting was getting you out of this. Hitoshi licked his lips and stroked his cock as he sat on his knees. He straddled your waist. He was fucking his hand right in front of you. You tried to look away, but a force held your head still, and your eyes peeled open. Hitoshi stroked long, fast, and hard. 

“I-I need…to get my scent all over you. To make sure anyone else who might cause me trouble…FUCK! Tries coming around. You smell…so good!” 

Hitoshi came and sprayed your face, chest, and neck with his cum. The substance was sticky and hot on your skin. He didn’t waste time smearing it all over your breasts, palming your chest, and teasing your nipples. Your body acted on instinct, not out of your desire, and bucked against him. 

“It’s working, isn’t it? Just having my cum on your flesh…makes you fucking wet for me!” He wore the triumphant grin of an incubus who just seduced the most stubborn prude in the land. 

“No, I’m not!” 

“Oh?” 

Hitoshi reached behind him and drove two fingers inside your pussy without warning. He stroked your clit before sliding between your folds and plunged as deep as his fingers could go. Your inner walls spasmed briefly against him.

“What’s this, then?” Hitoshi chuckled. 

“Stop!” 

Far from it, your command made him want to do it more. Hitoshi pushed a third finger inside of you and pumped faster. With his free hand, Hitoshi stroked his cock. Your eyes widened with horror at how quickly he could get it up again.

“Don’t be surprised, little thing. You can’t comprehend what I am and what I can do. Or more importantly, what I’m going to do to you.”

Hitoshi jerked off while sitting on top of you, his balls against your breasts. His fingers filled your cunt and stretched you open. 

“I’m putting in another. Then after you come on four of my fingers, you get the honor of taking this cock.” 

You tried shaking your head, but invisible hands grabbed your hair and pulled. They kept your head still and forced you to watch Hitoshi stroke his own cock and come all over your chest. Again. 

He gave you no warning and very little prep. Hitoshi added that fourth finger. One or two satisfied you, but your pleasure wasn’t on Hitoshi’s mind. He wanted you to come while he stretched you painfully wide. He thrust in deep, almost hitting your cervix. Your cheeks burned a dark bloom at the sound of the wet squelches that your pussy made. Hitoshi pumped faster inside you just while he used his cock as a brush to smear more come on your chest. 

Your hips bucked against him; your knees locked in pain. Hitoshi tied your legs so far apart that they burned, but that didn’t stop him from shoving his fingers all the way in. Your head crashed against the pillow while everything below your neck writhed and shuddered. Hitoshi watched your eyes roll into your skull as you gushed around his fingers.  He waited until your body stopped humping him before pulling his fingers out. Fluid leaked out of your cunt where his fingers had prevented it from staining your bedsheets. 

You whimpered and begged as Hitoshi shifted down your body. He nestled himself between your spread legs. He swiped his fingers across his tongue, put them into his mouth, and sucked them clean. His head rolled back. He groaned from deep in his throat. 

“You taste like ambrosia. I’m going to enjoy fucking sense and humanity out of you.” 

There was no warning. No pleasantries. Hitoshi did what he wanted. He stroked the head of his cock against your clit then aligned himself with your slit. It took one thrust to be buried deep inside of you. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled your lower body close to him. He sank on his knees and pulled his cock out, then plunged it back in. Your legs were stretched to the point of pain, muscles screaming. Hitoshi ignored your pleas.

You screamed and moaned as his cock pounded you. Your insides were being battered by some unearthly creature that escaped a cursed mirror. There was nothing you could do to stop this. His cock was long and hard and reached deep to kiss your cervix over and over. Your walls clenched around him. Hitoshi poured unwanted pleasure into your body and made it sink into your bones. Your hips thrust in time with his; your body writhed like a snake beneath him.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me who you belong to. Say it!” Hitoshi drove himself harder into your quivering body.

Your toes curled until they ached. Every limb of your body was shaking with effort. 

“Y-you,” you cried aloud. 

“What’s my name?” Hitoshi slammed his hips down, and your body violently shuddered with each of these movements. 

“H-H-Hitoshi!” 

“Who is your master?”

“You are. You’re my master. P-Please fuck me, sir!”

“Good girl. You’ll be my new favorite pet in no time.”

The room sweltered. How could someone whose body felt so cold make you pant and sweat? Your body writhed against him. You wanted to touch him, feel him, be able to look at his cock plunging inside your cunt. With his supernatural powers, Hitoshi kept your head forward and your eyes glued on him. You couldn’t watch his cock enter, retreat, and return deep inside your walls again. Your thighs were slick with sweat and cum. 

More, more, more.

You needed more. Hitoshi smirked down at you while you slowly lost your mind. Your eyes became blank spaces as his control over you seeped deep into your mind. His essence filled you, just like he was going to do with his cum in just a second. Your walls fluttered and spasmed at his provocation. A light flickered in your eyes. Somewhere in your subconsciousness, you must be screaming with rage. Your body no longer belonged to you and at this moment, neither did your mind. It was mere child’s play for Hitoshi to reach inside and flip the switch. Your dulled eyes rolled into your skull again while your mouth opened wide, and your tongue lulled out. Drool dribbled down the sides of your mouth. He commanded your body to climax around his hard length. You obeyed. 

You gushed, spilling everything you had. There was so much of it that it dripped to your bedsheets and on Hitoshi’s thighs. The tight clenching of your walls was enough to push him towards his own climax. Hitoshi groaned like an animal as he spilled his cum into your womb. Rope after rope warmed your lower belly until it was seeping out of your body. Hitoshi pulled out with little regard for how much it hurt. He remained on his knees to marvel at his handiwork. 

You were covered in him. His white semen staining your skin and made it glisten. The light slowly returned to your eyes. He watched madness creep in as you realized just what happened to you.

Jiro knocked on your door three days later. She stood shocked at the sight of you in the doorway, appearing as you were. You’d grown a bit pale since the last time she saw you. Your neck and shoulders were covered in purple kiss marks. Bruises formed at your wrist that looked suspiciously like handprints. Dark circles hung under your eyes. 

“Y/N, what happened to you?”

“Oh, I met someone recently. Let’s just say he’s really ‘fun.’” The words felt so unnatural coming out of your mouth—both to Jiro and yourself.

“Fun, you say?” Jiro looked at you up and down, unconvinced. 

Hitoshi appeared behind you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed the side of your neck. 

“I’m sorry, but we’re awfully busy right now,” he said. Hitoshi began to close the door on your friend. “Call back some other time.”

Jiro stood on your porch, dumbfounded. 

It couldn’t be, could it? She thought.

She saw it with her own two eyes but didn’t want to believe it to be true. Those eyes which stared through the mirror were the same ones that looked at her with disdain just now. The thing in the mirror was loose.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Fool Me Thrice

Hey guys! My three day spoiler free band is up so now you guys get to see what I did immediately after that new video (FwSA) came out! 

Summary: The aftermath of FwSA but Virgil was actually Janus in disguise the whole time. (featuring: Janus breaking down to tears and Roman being really confused.)

Word Count: 4734

Quick Taglist:@alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

“DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX!” Janus yells, but the incessant bubbling in his stomach causes the edges of his lips to quirk up anyway. It’s a ridiculous, intoxicating feeling, and it’s curling around his insides like a snake coiling around its prey. He wants to smile. He wants to jump. He wants to sing.

But Virgil doesn’t do any of those things unless under threat and pressure and Janus has to keep-- he’s still pretending-- Janus is impersonating Virgil.

He’s not doing a very good job of it, and he knows. Ever since that stranger at the food court, that stranger who might be gay, that stranger whose name is Nico Flores and happens to write songs-- Ever since Nico uttered those silly, little words, and Thomas’s Heart and Creativity had swamped the controls, the more….intellectual sides were finding it hard to….think.

Everything’s fuzzy and blurry and Janus keeps trying to hit back that buzzing between his ears that comes every time that Roman and Patton team up and get lost in their contagious excitement. Virgil, certainly, is probably docile by now, flooded with the warm feelings that make it hard to panic over anything for at least another hour because he’s too busy riding that high of the “honeymoon” phase of dating-- before he remembers that it's possible that Nico might be a Serial Killer who lures his victims into relationships before slicing their throats and hiding their bodies in the woods.

He doubts that Logan’s having fun either: he hadn’t even bothered to show up when they had first spotted Nico across the cafeteria, not even to throw out that suggestion of saying “I see from your stickers we have similar interests. Let us discuss the possibility of future copulation now.” Which, of course, spells all sorts of troubles that Janus is going to have to fix later.

Later which seems to be now, because Thomas is jittery from the excitement flowing off of Roman and Patton and he is going to text Joan all about it which requires none of Janus-Virgil’s help.

It’s a flawless escape. Janus smiles inwardly, at the gooey feeling of pride in his stomach. He did it! One whole video, completely undercover! 

It figures that Virgil would be the key. 

Of all of them...well, Janus has always known Virgil the best. Anxiety and Self Preservation have gone hand in hand since Thomas was in diapers still. Janus grew up watching the curve of Virgil’s tense shoulders, watching the flickering of his eyes watching the entry points of the room, watching Virgil’s smirk curl and his eyeshadow bloom and--

And Janus knows Virgil hates him right now, even underneath the gooey layer of good feelings Patton is pumping through all of the Thomasphere. Janus even thinks that if he pops in to check on the little ball of nerves, Virgil will come back to his senses and start a murderous rampage on his way to stop Janus from ever impersonating any of them ever again. Which is definitely what Thomas needs right now. 

Whatever. He can celebrate his victory privately.

Thomas is happy. That’s all that matters right now. The rest can wait until the good emotions in Thomas calm down and Janus can think clearly again: he’ll get out his fermented grape juice and pour it in a glass so he can feel fancy and then he’ll figure out how to deal with Logan, listen to Patton’s emotional-gushing-that-ends-in-overwhelmed-tears, entertain the Duke’s R rated fantasies with a polite smile, congratulate the Prince for his victory, and then after all that he’ll send Virgil a card via messenger dove to thank him for his...bravery.

And then he’ll go to sleep for two hours, and hopefully when he wakes back up Thomas will not be on fire.

That’s… that’s a reasonable hope, right? He’s not asking too much of the other idiot sides, right?

The buzz between his eyes sharpens for a second, as Thomas shakes his hands some more, with a grin that Janus would absolutely die for. It's almost regrettable because if anyone took a moment to look at him, to look at the way he looks at Thomas, they would see immediately what his weakness is: Janus is Self Preservation, Self Importance, Self, self, self. 

He’s weak for Thomas’s smile. The gut force that drives Virgil to do things is protection, so he tries to make Thomas recognize everything as a threat; for Roman its creation, so he tries to push Thomas to achieve all of his dreams. For Janus it's Thomas’s id wants, so he does whatever it takes to keep him happy.

A smile on Thomas’s face means that Janus is doing good, that he’s doing right by Thomas. Who cares if in the end he’s the villain of the story? Who cares about him when there’s Thomas?

Thomas thanks him again-- actually he thanks Virgil, but Janus' face flushes anyway. The feeling in his stomach washes over him, leaving his knees weak and his lips smiling. Is this what being giddy is? He suddenly understands, suddenly, why Patton subscribes to that whole “Thomas is morally and objectively the best” philosophy; It’s a nice feeling, even if it makes it hard for Janus to concentrate on keeping Virgil’s eyeshadow the right color.

Thomas rushes by him-- almost close enough to touch again and wow Janus’ hands were still tingling from that; He forgot that Virgil was always able to touch their host-- and runs up the stairs to go scream in a pillow and text Joan the brilliant news and Janus takes that as his cue.

Time to wrap it up and go. (to sleep. Oh god, he can hear his bed calling for him already.) 

But when he turns back to the last side in the room, Roman is pressing his knuckles to his lips and staring at the blinds in Thomas’s living room like he can set them on fire with his mind.

“Princey?” Janus asks, his own smile slipping. “What’s up?”

Roman snaps over to look at him-- to look at Virgil, whom he trusts and likes and appreciates and who is definitely not Janus at all. Despite that, the way that Roman is looking at him with furrowed eyebrows that would sing of a scowl if Patton had been doing his job just slightly not as well as he is currently, forces Janus to check to make sure he’s still wearing Virgil’s appearance.

“I can’t figure it out,” Roman says, looking like he just caught his best friends in the middle of decorating for his surprise birthday party. “Why?”

Janus squeezes his eyes closed trying to focus on what Roman was talking about. He knows that he missed at least one thing that was said in the hullabaloo all day, but he didn’t think it was something that Roman of all sides would be upset about. Why, what? Roman got the guy. What was so complicated about that?

Actually asking why is more on brand for Virgil.

For a ridiculous second Janus wonders if that was Virgil wearing Roman’s outfit and pretending to be him the way that Janus was pretending to be Virgil. But Janus is decently sure that Virgil can’t resist insulting Janus for more than five seconds at a time, and they’ve been side by side for hours now.

(And hadn’t that been nice? If Janus had just closed his eyes, he could have imagined the grateful smile Roman had given Virgil had been meant for him.) 

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Ro,” Janus shrugs. “But I’m gonna go. All these good emotions are like...disgusting.” He sticks out his tongue that way that he’s seen Virgil do every time that Thomas has to eat the carrots his mom put on his plate just to sell the act, but Roman’s jaw sets.

“Why did you do that?” Roman bursts out before Janus can get all the way out, “Why? Janus!”

Janus should have run then, should have pretended that Virgil hadn’t heard him at all and let the other sides argue with each other, but his name is so new and shiny and no one ever uses it. The words vibrate through the air like needles and the next thing he knows is that he’s pinned in place, frozen, and Roman is looking very not-happy anymore.

Ha, so he knew. Looks like Janus can’t get through a video without being outed.

“I know it's you, you slimy snake,” Roman says. “Will you stop wearing Virgil’s face already! I want an answer!”

Janus’s tongue flicks in his mouth, rolling over the back of his teeth as he tries to think of the best way to handle this when all of his thoughts have to process through the molasses that is the gooey happiness Thomas is feeling and his own exhaustion.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Janus says, as blase as he can make it.

Which is….maybe not his best idea. The buzzing in his head makes the rest of the room go blurry for a second, in and out of focus and it’s so very helpful. 

Roman’s face goes red, stuck somewhere between being angry and being insulted. He reaches out and Janus’ legs do that thing where they don’t work so when he throws his weight back, away, out of reach, his body goes plummeting to the foot of the stairs as well.

Roman yelps, leaning forward for a moment maybe with the intent to help him back up but Janus throws up a hand to stop him before he knows for sure. His eyelids are heavy, he realizes, and he’s tired and he really doesn’t want to have a fight with Roman right now.

“I had fun, Roman. Thank you for the... entertainment this evening.” He says, dropping the last of his stellar Virgil impression. He wonders how long he had Roman fooled, if he had him fooled at all for any point. Does he dare wonder how many of those smiles were given knowing that it was Deceit in disguise?

(He doesn’t and he resents the implication that he cares what the others think of him.)

“Congrats on wooing the boy or whatever.” Janus climbs back up to his feet and brushes imaginary dust off his tunic. Or it could be real. He’s not sure considering that he’s so tired he can’t see anything in front of him.

“You fiend!” Roman snarls, “What did you do to our Stormcloud?”

“Why don’t you go find out?”Janus suggests, with a half-assed flourish, even by his own standards, “Or better yet, don’t. In the meantime, I’ll be in my room.”

But Roman snags his arm and holds him up and Janus is acutely aware that sinking out with another side is troublesome and takes so, so much focus and energy. (And Romans touch is scalding. It’s burning. It’s white hot and Janus wasn’t aware he had been freezing before.)

“I’m tired of this game, Snakes and Ladders!” Roman says. “Tired of not knowing what you’re up to! Tired of not knowing what Thomas wants! Tired of getting backseat to self care and morality and-- and I’m Tired, Janus! Why do you keep doing this to me?!”

And hooooooo, does that strike something in Janus! The soft feelings in his chest burn right up in an anger he hadn’t even known he had been feeling. But it must have been there for a while because it boils right through him, leaving his chest smoldering and his mouth tasting like ashes.

“You think you’re tired?” He snaps, burns, blazes. There’s something in this throat, and it makes every word catch fire when it comes out of his mouth. And even Roman has enough sense to know that fire is dangerous and that he’s going to be cremated if he doesn’t step back.

“You think you’re tired,” Janus repeats, taking a step forward so that they’re nearly toe-to-toe and he can see the way that Roman’s Adam's apple bobs. “What about me, Roman? Don’t you think I’m tired? That I’m exhausted? That I know I’m going to have to sink back down and figure out what is wrong with Logan and listen to Patton and keep Remus busy and make sure that none of you morons overpower the others and drive Thomas directly into the ground? That I haven’t slept a full night since the whole start of these videos and moral dilemmas and whatever else? Every time I turn around Thomas is making another lie: to his friends, to his family, to himself! Don’t you think that I… that I…”

Roman is staring at him.

Janus’s head pounds. The room around him sways and he thinks that maybe...maybe the reason he can’t think straight right now doesn’t actually have anything to do with Patton’s elation keeping Thomas busy.

“Oh,” Janus says because he blinked and now he’s on the floor. 

He blinks again and Roman is right next to him, looking concerned-- how ridiculous. Roman being concerned for him. Ha.

“Janus…” Roman’s voice is low, which makes Janus aware suddenly that everything else had been so loud all this time. He grits his teeth when Roman waves a hand and magics up… what are those, tissues? Why would he--

Oh.

Janus is crying. He reaches a hand up tentatively rubbing away the tears, and has to swallow a laugh. Oh, he's crying. When was the last time he cried? When was the last time he cried in front of someone else? 

He's so, so tired. And that's the reason-- the only reason, mind you-- that when Roman scooches closer, a centimeter, an inch, a foot, and then rests his hand on Janus' shoulder, Janus doesn't push him off and immediately sink out to his room. It takes too much energy to lock a room, even his, from the others and Roman would surely follow after him and demand answers.

Roman’s touch is a shaky, changing warmth. Janus noticed it earlier when Roman had said the word “Bravery” and Janus hadn’t been able to form an actual response because he was so busy wondering if this was how all touch was supposed to feel. But now he thinks he can count every single atom that is touching him and the awareness hums in his veins in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

He sucks in an equally shaky breath and tries not to look like he’s leaning into the feeling. His stomach rolls around, twisting and churning to the point where it hurts. He might be able to blame this on a stomach bug. The other sides probably wouldn’t look farther than that. They don’t like him enough to look farther than that.

“Janus,” Roman says again, calling him by name and Janus wants to tell him to stop. He sounds like he cares and Janus knows it’s a lie. He thinks it’s a lie. He’s pretty sure it’s a lie.

It’s hard to tell right now, especially when his own inner desire is yearning for it not to be. He can’t trust himself when he’s like this. He always ends up doing something stupid.

Like sitting at the foot of Thomas’s stairs crying in front of Roman.

“Fuck,” Janus says, and laughs, like this was part of his grand master plan that definitely exists. He ignores the tissues Roman places at their knees and uses the back of his palms to get rid of those pesky, unprofessional tears. “My most humble apologies, my dear prince. Too much fun today I suppose--”

“Janus,” Roman cuts him off, and Janus wishes his sharp inhale was a little less noticeable. “Are you… Did….”

Janus can feel how Roman’s thumb is rubbing his shoulder, slow circles like a loading screen while he tries to weave together a sentence that makes coherent sense.

“Why?” Roman decides. “Why are you...why did you help Thomas meet Nico? Why did you force him to do it naturally without any lies? I thought you liked when Thomas tells lies!”

Janus snorts, which is a bad decision because his nose is runny and, god, now there’s snot all over his face, which just makes the lump in the back of his throat grow larger. He snatches up the stupid tissues and tears open the pack.

“I don’t--” Janus wipes away the snot, and tosses the tissue into oblivion. “I don’t want Thomas to lie all the time. Do you think I’m crazy, Roman? I have to manage every lie Thomas tells himself! It’s… It’s… imagine if you had to make a new video script every single day.”

Janus can see Roman’s confused look. It's adorable really, like a puppy that just got told to “Stay.” He recognizes that Janus is saying something, that Janus is talking to him, but the full meaning of the words is lost on him.

“If it's so taxing, why do you do it, then?” He asks, like it's some sort of choice and not his job.

“Why do you make video scripts? Why do you help Thomas practice his lines? Why do you take him on daydreams when he’s bored?” 

“Because he asks me to,” Roman answers without a single hesitation. “Wait….”

Janus leans forward pressing his chin to his knees. His eyes close for a moment, two, three while Roman struggles to understand what Janus isn’t blatantly saying.

“Imagine if Thomas asked you to make a new video script every single day. Do you think you could say no to that?”

Roman makes a wounded noise from deep in the bottom of his soul. It resonates in the air between them, like an elephant neither of them wants to admit is there. Janus breathes in deeply, and wards off the fresh round of lovely wonderful tears that come from his lovely wonderful headache.

“I’m sorry about the court case, Roman,” Janus says. The words feel dangerous, like throwing knives and Roman flinches back, leaving the spot on Janus’s shoulder painfully freezing. “I wanted-- I wanted Thomas to do what he loved. I wanted him to stop lying about wanting to go to the callback and I thought that if I just made it so that only you could make the decision it would be easier! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Janus breathes in, but somehow it seems that all the oxygen in the room had dissipated without their knowledge. He gasps a few times, trying to get a steady rhythm back but the white noise in his head and the itch behind his eyes keep throwing him off. 

There’s laughter-- it takes him a moment to realize it's his own. Which is just great, just fantastic, just what he needed. He finally got the sordid apology out and now he’s laughing. 

But Roman is looking at him not with a scowl, but with some other emotion Janus can’t quite name through his blurry vision. For a second he thinks it might be fear-- which is even more funny than the idea that Virgil had been pretending to be Roman this whole time. In the safety of Thomas’s apartment, when Thomas had just gotten the boy of his dreams, when Janus was on the ground out of secret agendas to hide, what is there for Roman to fear?

“I just--” Janus gasps one more time, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. “Thomas deserves a win. You deserve a win. That's why I wanted to help with Nico.” He feels like his head is going to pop right off. Maybe if he asks nicely Roman will get out his sword and do it free of charge and relatively painlessly.

“So I...ha, so I spent all day playing dress up,” Janus hates the wobble in his voice. “And now I’m a day behind on managing all my work and now Patton’s going to want to talk about what happened today, and someone needs to listen to Remus and Logan is obviously not doing too well so I have to check on him-- and Virgil too even though Virgil will probably throw something at me but I have to….And then Thomas is going to need me and I have…. I have to…”

“You really… you really do all that?” Roman says in a small voice that doesn’t suit him at all. “All by yourself?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else to help, Roman.” Janus says before he can stop himself.

“I’ll help you!”

Janus freezes. Because, well.

He’s heard those words before, hasn’t he? Not all that too long ago. When the divide between dark and light was more defined and Thomas hadn’t started posting videos with them in it and Janus wasn’t afraid of the purple door in the middle of the hall.

He knows how this conversation goes all too well.

But Janus apparently can’t learn any new tricks because he still says, “No, I can do this myself.”

(“You’ll kill yourself from stress, Jan!” Virgil had yelled. “Then where will we be?”

“I have everything under control, Virgil! I don’t need any help! Just drop it, okay?”

“Thomas and the Light sides are running you ragged and you want me to pretend like it isn’t hurting you? Are you crazy? They need to stop lying so much!” 

“No! I can handle this!”

“Janus!”

“Virgil!”

“I can’t let you keep doing this,” Virgil had said, “If you won’t do something I will.”

“Don’t you dare!”

But he had. And now he was a light side, an accepted side, everyone’s favorite side. And he was slowly convincing Thomas to stop lying by turning Janus into something to be feared and avoided. How quaint. How trademark.)

Roman is staring at him. Janus can feel the weight of his eyes on him, and somehow that's worse than his hand on Janus’ shoulder. It’s heavier. It’s harder to just shrug off. It means something more.

Because Roman isn’t talking. And Janus isn’t hiding.

And if the words weren’t so hard to say, he thinks that maybe Virgil was right, and he should apologize.

“Huh,” Roman says after the silence threatens to swallow them both. He clears his throat and mercifully looks away, staring at that painting over Thomas’s couch. “I didn’t think you were stupid.”

Janus hisses at him, at the idea of him. But Roman flicks his fingers.

“Oh come on, Ouroboros,” Roman says. “You handle all of Thomas’s lies, and then you’re out there looking after each of us sides as well? I think after 31 videos we can all agree that one side being entire in control of Thomas is a bad thing! So why are you still trying to do everything?”

Janus has a very good answer. The best answer. 

But Roman’s elbow reaches out and nudges him and all his thoughts scatter into the air. Maybe that was intentional, but Janus can’t find the energy in himself to really be angry about it. 

“I…” Janus says, “I just want Thomas to be happy.”

“So do the rest of us too, Snakecrates!-- Get it? Like Socrates?-- Not gonna lie, your way to make him happy is truly… the foulest of methods, but at the end of the day we’re all a part of him.” Roman says. “Maybe instead of trying to puppet master this you could...try working with us? Like showing up as yourself instead of using Virgil’s or Logan’s face again?”

Janus snorts again. The backs of his eyelids shoot bright red stars across his vision. “As if. None of you would listen if I did things that way.”

Roman nudges him again. “It's just a suggestion, Slitherous Snape.”

“How many of those do you have?”

“Nicknames?” Roman pauses, and Janus guesses that he’s counting on his hand. “Dunno. A lot. I never get to use them because you show up in someone else’s clothes and I don’t realize it’s you. All the more reason you should listen to me and just show up as your usual self!”

Janus must have made a noise, but his brain is too preoccupied with the fact that the carpet in Thomas’s apartment is actually really comfy and if he buries his head in his knees the room is actually dark. His headache is a dull repetitive thob, like a drum beat that if he doesn’t focus too much on becomes a noise he can fall asleep to.

“I thought you hated me.” He admits, in a quiet tone and only partially hopes that it was too low for Roman to hear.

“Fool me once,” Roman says in a soft tone, humming like it's a melody. “Shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice…”

He sighs deeply.

“And I think that means we need to actually think about talking out things like adults.” Roman nudges him again, and then places his arm around Janus’s shoulders. “But not right now, when you’re half dead from exhaustion. Let’s get you to your room, Jan.”

There’s a cold feeling around both of them, washing over Janus’s muscles like a flood, as they sink down. His eyes open briefly just in time to make out his own room surroundings before Roman drops him on his bed.

Oh, it’s really comfortable. Has his body always sunk into his mattress like this?

“Get some sleep, Deceit,” Roman says.

“Wait... Logan…” Janus definitely does not whine.

“I’ll handle the nerd.” 

There are so many reasons why that’s a bad idea-- Janus knows there are a bunch of reasons because he wrote them down on flashcards to study in between grieving Virgil leaving the dark sides and managing the lies Thomas tells day to day and the ones he had going on forever and the ones that sides told each other and--.

But before he can say any of that, Roman sifts a gentle hand through his hair and Janus loses the ability to think again.

(Janus really doesn’t remember when Roman gained that power.)

He curls up almost unintentionally on his bed, and Roman makes a noise that could have been a laugh, if Janus cared enough to check.

“Sweet dreams,” Roman says softly.

“W…wait!” Janus gathers the last bit of his energy, the residue from the gooey feelings Thomas was harboring, and surges after Roman before he can leave all the way. “How did you... know it was me? And not…”

“Virgil?” Roman offered. “You kept messing with the eyeshadow, Janus. He has that angsty charcoal color on twenty-four-seven. You kept changing it to purple. I mean I liked it, but that’s not his style.”

Janus frowns. “No….he has the purple when he’s happy. I know he has the purple… He only started wearing the black...when he was trying to freak out Thomas.” He sighs and settles back into his pillow. “It glows...when he’s happy…”

Janus has plenty of memories about that, too. They were some of his favorites: Virgil on Christmas morning when the prospect of presents was more scary than the idea of all Thomas’s relatives coming over, Virgil on late nights watching cryptid history shows with Remus and talking about marrying Mothman when Thomas got older, Virgil right after he first appeared to Thomas, glowing in all senses of the word because their host knew who he was. 

Janus remembers being a little upset when Virgil covered it up, because it was another lie then: Virgil was hiding part of who he was and the three of them had always agreed on no lies between them. 

Besides Virgil had always looked younger with the purple, looked more happy, looked more approachable. He looked like he was excited to see Janus and not like he would rip out his throat if they ended up in a room alone together. 

Virgil was purple long before he had been black, and Janus thinks he might have been in love with him even before that too.

Who had he been talking to, again?

Janus gets the distinct feeling something is wrong, but his pillows are comfy, and his mattress is soft and he’s been running on fumes for far too long. He’s fast asleep before he realizes that Roman is still in his room, frowning, and wondering if that meant Virgil had never actually been happy around the Light Sides at all. 

[pretend-writer]

Kids Of The Future (Chapter 1)

Mini-Series

Summary: After time traveling from the apocalypse in 2019, a surprise waits for Diego and Y/N as they arrive at Dallas, Texas circa 1960.

Pairing: Hargreeves x sibling!reader, Diego Hargreeves x reader

Title Reference: Kids Of The Future x Jonas Brothers

Word Count: 1.4k words

Warning: mention of violence

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

'Y/N, wake up.'

It took me a while to realize that it wasn't a dream and someone was actually calling my name. Slowly opening my eyes with the energy I had left in me, I woke up in an alley with Diego kneeling right next to me.

Feeling a painful headache shooting through my skull, I squeezed my temples. 'What? What's happening?'

'You were unconscious for a bit.' Diego helped me sit up, 'Five didn't tell us we were supposed to prepare for a dangerous landing.'

All the memories from before suddenly hit me; the apocalypse, our sister Vanya discovering her powers, Cha Cha, Hazel and everything that happened that led us to this moment. Remembering everything made me realize something was missing.

'Where is everybody?' I quickly stood up, turning around every corner as I looked for the rest of our family.

'I don't know- When I got here, it was just us.'

Five always mentioned that time traveling was complicated. It scared me that we were in an unfamiliar alley without the rest of our siblings. Did Five just drop me and Diego off and went elsewhere?

'This is Luther's fault, it's all his fault.' I groaned, panicking about being lost in a middle of an alley where we had no clue where we were. Also angry about how he handled the situation with Vanya, my mind was all over the place.

'It's not just his fault, we took part in it too.'

Raising my eyebrows, I looked over at Diego with a surprised look on my face. 'Wow, did Five take us to a whole different dimension because I swear I just heard you defending Luther.'

'Har har Y/N. You are a comedic genius.' Diego rolled his eyes, 'But I'm serious. Since when did we ever try to build a relationship with Vanya?'

'Uhm I did. While you were too busy looking for Cha Cha and Hazel, Allison and I've been trying to hang out with her more.'

'Ah great. So while I did the busy work, you were chilling and doing nothing. Good to hear.'

'Well, all the busy work didn't matter because Vanya was the bomb this whole time.' I smiled sarcastically, 'Maybe you should've came with us and hung out with Vanya too.'

Diego took a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at me with intensity. 'We can't do this 'what if' bull crap. Maybe when we found the file on Jenkins, you could've joined Allison and maybe she wouldn't have had her throat cut off.'

'You know I already feel terrible about that.' Ever since Luther, Diego, Klaus and I drove down to the Jenkins cabin and found Allison lying in a puddle of blood, I couldn't stop thinking about it. 'I thought that you'd needed my help more in jail after you got arrested for Eudora's murder. I was genuinely scared for you.'

'I know, I know.' Diego nodded slowly and walked up to me. 'That's what I mean by not doing the whole 'what if' stuff. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset.'

'No, I'm okay. I thought Allison wouldn't need my help and I just care about you a lot.' I gave half a smile, reassuring him that I wasn't mad about what he had just said.

If I knew that Allison and Vanya seeing each other would turn into an altercation, I would've chose to go with my sister. At the time it looked like Diego needed my help more and I had to stick with him to figure out how to get him out of there.

Maybe it was also the fact that I cared about Diego a lot. We've always had each other's backs since we were little kids and at the time of his arrest, he needed me. I couldn't have him behind bars for something he didn't do.

'Thank you for coming with me, Y/N. I just wish it was a different outcome.' Diego sighed. 'To be fair, if it wasn't for you shifting into a cop to get me out of jail I probably would've died in that apacolypse.'

I smiled as I was happy that Diego appreciated my use of power. 'You know I can't leave without you, Diego.'

Diego eyed me, smiling back and taking a step towards me. He licked his lips, slowly grabbing onto my hand.

'You know I actually stayed with you, for you right? I mean I did think Allison didn't need my help with Vanya bu-'

'I know, Y/N.' He acknowledged my feelings towards him, which everyone knew that I had. 'I'm glad you were with me and it's not only because you helped me out.'

We've always had moments like this where we stared at each other, giving one another cute grins hoping that one of us would make the first move.

Throughout the years, we've both dated different people but in the end we cared too much about each other to let it go. It was perhaps the timing that was bad; maybe this time was the perfect time.

And I think Diego knew as well.

He grabbed onto my hip and pulled me in, slowly leaning in without another word. It was so direct but we've been waiting for so long, there was no more time to waste.

Following his lead, I also leaned in to meet him half way. As I began to close my eyes, something stopped me.

Diego and I both paused, quickly looking each other in the eyes with furrowed eyebrows. 'Uhm, what the fuck was that?'

I knew we were both thinking the same thing as our reaction was the same; some weird noise that came by the dumpster that was in the middle of the alley.

'You want to go check what it is?' I pointed to the direction the noise was coming from.

'I am not going near that dumpster! It can be some weird animal we've never seen.' Diego hid behind me, pushing me towards the noise. 'At least with you, you can shape shift into that animal to blend in.'

'Ugh don't use my powers to excuse yourself from this.' I rolled my eyes, 'But since I'm the braver one I'll go.'

Diego slapped me playfully on my shoulders, 'All I'm saying is that you have an advantage. Nothing to do with bravery.'

I shook my head, ignoring Diego and slowly stepping closer to the noise. Finally getting there, I peeked to see if it was anything harmless.

'What is it Y/N!?'

Tilting my head, I was confused on what I witnessed. As I reached for it, Diego winced. 'W-why are you picking it up!?'

'Don't worry.' I chuckled, carrying it and admiring how adorable it was. 'It's a cute wittle baby.'

Diego scratched his head, 'Why is there a baby behind the dumpster?'

'Just seems like no one wanted it. Poor baby, we should take care of it.' I started patting the baby lightly, 'Diego, check if the baby is a boy or a girl.'

'What!? I don't want to check!' He backed off, as if he was disgusted by it. 'I am not down to play house with this baby. What we need to do is find Five or anyone for that matter so we can go back home.'

I nodded, 'I agree with you but until then we need to find this baby a home.'

Diego looked at the baby, slowly smiled as the baby grinned and giggled. By the way Diego was staring at the baby, I knew that he was slowly giving in.

'Isn't he irresistible!?' I played with his chubby cheeks, making him laugh.

'How do you know it's a he?'

'I don't but whoever is going to change his diaper first will.' I smiled innocently as Diego shook his head. 'Just a guess.'

Diego facepalmed, 'Changing diapers?! How are we going to go from trying to save the world to taking care of a baby?'

'Fine! I'll change his first diaper, can we just please take care of him as we find our siblings?'

He looked at me, then the baby. 'Ugh how can I resist the cute baby face?'

'You're talking about me?' I said sweetly.

'Aha you wish, Y/N.' Diego joked, 'Now come on. Let's see what this place has to offer us.'