#and we had to gently explain that we were all writing original fiction all of every single one of our characters were 'OCs'

[tippenfunkaport]

When I first started in fandom, for whatever reason I decided making fankids was like… too cringe for me. Like that was the arbitrary line I drew of what was too deep into fandom for me.

Anyway, think of this when I post my fankid drawings later because they represent me surrendering what is left of my dignity and fully surrendering to the cringe.

[julienbakerpls]

Jealous

Hi, this is RPF, if that makes you uncomfy DONT READ, if ur under 18 DONT READ!!! This is ALL fictional <3 Anyways thanks for reading and requests are open!

requests -

"need julien saying good girl…"

"julien x pillow princess!reader perhaps 😶, also julien wearing a strap 😶‍🌫️"

"or like julien just getting jealous cause someone hits on reader and like wrecking her back at home"

You were sitting alone at the bar of the local pub that you and Julien tended to frequent. Julien was running late from her writing session with the boys, having texted you 15 separate times explaining that she was on her way. You went ahead and ordered a drink and pulled out the book that you had been trying to get through.

"What are you reading?" You heard a male voice ask looking up to see a guy who looked startlingly like Julien.

"I'm sorry, what?" You asked, having already forgotten what he said due to your surprise. He smiled at you, before repeating his question tapping the book in your hands.

"Oh it's Chronicles by Bob Dylan, I've been reading it off and on for the past two months." You said awkwardly, not ever feeling completely comfortable talking to men.

"Oh no way! I love Bob Dylan, do you read a lot of biographies? Sorry i'm Jake, by the way." He smiled and he since he seemed like a genuinely nice guy you didn't see the harm in introducing yourself.

"Y/n, and yeah i'm completely untalented so I love learning about different musicians, and their experiences that shape their songwriting." You spoke putting your bookmark into the book, and taking a sip of your drink.

"I'm sure you're not completely untalented, beautiful girl like you," He smiled, subtly leaning closer to you to talk over the noisy pub. "I'm actually a musician, I play guitar." He finished.

"Oh that's so cool, my girlfriend is also a musician. Are you local?" You asked becoming more interested in the conversation, wondering if Julien's look alike knew her.

"We're from Michigan originally, but we relocated here. What's your girlfriends name, would I know her?" Jake asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"I don't know, her names Julien." You smiled, loving any excuse you could find to talk about her.

"Oh wait, Julien Baker? I don't think i've ever met her but i've heard her music. She's insanely talented." He said enthusiastically, causing you to smile bigger than you had been.

"I know, She's incredible." You said, laughing a little with how lucky you were to have her. You felt a hand wrap around your waist roughly pulling you into someone's side. You quickly turn seeing its Julien, melting into her side.

"Sorry i'm late Baby," She said, not looking at you. "I'm Julien, Y/n's girlfriend." She said to Jake, her face and tone cold. Jake smiled at her, reaching a hand out to introduce himself. Julien shook his hand, still not letting the cold look drop from her face. Jake seemed to notice smirking a little to himself, before saying goodbye to the both of you.

"What's wrong Jay?" You asked her, moving so she was standing between your legs a hand possessively on both of your thighs.

"He was flirting with you!" Julien whisper shouted, placing her fingers into your belt loops pulling you closer to her.

"Are you really jealous? Of him?" You smiled, placing your arms around her neck. You could tell she was still worked up about it.

"No... yes, I don't know.... You're mine," She mumbled leaning forward into your shoulder. You run your fingers through her hair, pulling her up to kiss her gently on the lips.

"I'm all yours, Jay. Body and soul." You say against her lips, biting down on her bottom lip. She groaned into your mouth before pulling away.

"Let's get out of here." She said, pulling you down from the bar stool, making sure your body grinded against her on the way to the floor. Julien started pulling you towards the exit when Jake appeared back in front of the two of you.

"Hey Julien, Y/n was telling me how talented you are. I'm also a musician so I wanted to give you my card in case you ever wanted to get together." Jake smiled at Julien and you, before handing Julien his card.

Julien smiled and nodded her way through the interaction promising to be in touch, before pulling you by your belt loop toward the exit again. You stumbled slightly due to the speed she was walking, her arms instantly reaching out to steady you.

"Are you okay, Babe?" You ask her once you'd both gotten in the car and she was driving home. Her hand possessively placed high on your thigh, her jaw clenched still. You could tell that she was still worked up over it, but you couldn't deny that she looked amazing right now.

Julien didn't say anything the entire drive home, getting out and opening your door for you before going to the front door and unlocking it and holding it open for you to walk in in front of her. The second you'd past her you were instantly pressed into the now closed front door.

Julien lips instantly finding yours and devouring them in a rough kiss. You moaned into her mouth, pushing your body against hers. She pulled away from your lips and trailed kisses down your neck pulling back only to roughly pull your shirt over your head. Her calloused hands caressing over the newly exposed skin before popping the button of your jeans and letting her hand trace the band of your lace underwear. Julien pulled the band letting it pop back against your skin with a sharp sting, causing you to push your body more into hers. She finally pushed her hand into your underwear, gently pressing her thumb to your clit in figure eights. You gasped arching your hips into her hand only to be forced back into the door by her other hand.

"Jay... Babe.." You started to moan, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten. Julien bit down on your shoulder, pulling away from you but still staying close.

"I want you to go upstairs and wait for me on the bed," She said pressing a kiss to your shoulder before adding "Naked."

Julien pulled completely away from you moving away to walk into the kitchen. You hurried up the stairs and into your bedroom quickly stripping your jeans and undergarments off.

You impatiently waited for her on the bed, feeling how worked up you were already. Julien was typically a gentle lover, but occasionally she'd get into these dominant phases where she just knew how to take you completely apart without even lifting a finger.

After about five minutes Julien came into the bedroom, she'd taken off her shirt and jeans and was now just in her sports bra and boxers. You pressed your thighs together at the unbelievable sight of her, you'd never be able to get over how lucky you were to be with her.

"Good girl." Julien smiled down at you, she slowly crawled her way up the bed to you. She paused taking her time massaging and sucking on your breasts, before pressing her lips to yours.

"Jay, I need you," You gasped into her open mouth feeling her smile against your lips. She pulled back from you not saying anything and kissing her way down your body again. She quickly found your clit, briefly sucking it into her mouth just long enough to get you soaked before she pulled away again.

"Julien please," You begged her feeling how wet your thighs were getting. She smirked down at you, pressing a teasing kiss to your slit, before pulling away completely and getting up off of the bed.

"Jay?" You whined after her watching her make her way over to your closet and stepping in. You huffed put a frustrated groan, hearing her laugh from the closet.

"Be patient, Princess." Julien called, still laughing at you.

You closer your eyes briefly, before opening them upon hearing Julien clear her throat. Opening your eyes to see her, you'd have thought you'd died and gone to heaven, holy shit.

"Oh fuck, Jay," You moaned, your hips involuntarily jerking up to grind on nothing. Julien was now naked, and wearing the rainbow strap on she'd purchased while on tour and had sent back as a surprise for you. (And to tease you, with her not being there to use it on you)

"How bad do you want this baby," She questioned crawling up the bed to you. You had to fight the urge to throw yourself at her completely.

"God Julien I always want you so fucking badly," You whined pulling her down to your mouth. The kiss is sloppy, all tongue and teeth with how desperate you are for her.

"I love seeing you like this, being the only one who can make you this needy." She smiled, running her hands down your sides squeezing you hips.

"God yes, Only you Jay, I'm yours." You moan out, being rewarded with the friction of her grinding the strap on against your clit.

"That's right baby, you're all mine." Julien Whispers against your chest, sucking a nipple into her mouth and biting down softly.

She pulled away from you going to kneel on her knees, adjusting the harness of the strap.

"Why don't you get this nice and wet for me." Julien hummed out. You pulled yourself up onto your knees, making eye contact with her as you let spit from your mouth drip down on it. Julien groaned, grinding herself against the strap at the sight.

You reached forward taking the strap into your mouth, giving Julien a good show, while also making sure to push it against her clit.

"Fuck baby, just like that.." She moaned, running her fingers through your hair. She gently pulled you off of it, pulling you up to kiss her.

The two of you got lost in the kiss, it getting more heated and sloppy by the minute. Julien eventually pulled away pushing to to fall back into the pillows. She moved to position herself between your thighs, pressing kisses into your neck as she moved. You felt the cool tip of the strap on press against your entrance, pulling a whine from your lips.

She moved one of your legs so it was wrapped around her hip, gently pressing into you giving you time to adjust.

"Jay.." You moan pulling her mouth to yours, fingers tangled tightly into her long hair. She brought one of her hands to loosely wrap around your throat pulling a desperate moan from you.

"Open your mouth princess," Julien said, slightly out of breath, with how hard she was thrusting into you. You did as she said instantly opening your mouth, she smiled at your obedience making eye contact with you as she spit into your awaiting mouth. You swallowed her saliva as soon as it touched your tongue, causing Julien to moan above you.

She continued to speed up her thrusts, causing your eyes to roll back into your head momentarily. Both of your legs now tightly wrapped around her hips, nails dragging down her muscular back.

"Just remember baby, no one can fuck you as good as I can," Julien breathed into your neck, Making sure to punctuate each word with a deep thrust.

"Only you, no one else." You moaned, feeling your body tightly clamp down on her strap.

"God, I love you so much Y/n." Julien said, now into your chest biting and sucking on your nipples.

"I love you, Julien," You gasped, feeling the knot in your stomach snap, body shaking from the liquid fire pleasure Julien was coaxing out of you.

"Jay," You whined feeling so overstimulated as she gently pulled out of you, moving off the bed and into the bathroom to clean up and remove the strap on. When she returned she had a warms washcloth to clean you up, discarding it in the laundry before wrapping herself around you securely.

"Julien, you know you have nothing to worry about, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone." You spoke into the darkness, moving the hair out of her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I know Baby, I just get so... wrapped up in my head, and I don't want to lose you." Julien whispered, pressing her body even closer in the dark and wearing the sheets around you both.

"You'll never lose me." You whisper into her hair before falling asleep in her strong and safe arms.

[augustheart]

DC Pride 2023 Tribute to Rachel Pollack

This is a transcription of the text that appears at the end of DC Pride, written by a variety of authors in memory of trailblazing writer Rachel Pollack. I've done my best to copy everything exactly as it was written, and I apologize for any errors. It's over 3,000 words, so I'm going to put it under a cut outside of the foreword. The rest of the tributes are in plain text and not italicized except in places where they were by the original authors.

(If you would like a PDF of the following transcription, one is available here.)

“On April 7, 2023, the legendary writer and Tarot expert Rachel Pollack passed at age 77. Her work for DC's Vertigo imprint—including the celebrated Vertigo Tarot deck and a long run on Doom Patrol that was a deep influence on the property's recent HBO Max series—was profoundly meaningful for generations of comics fans. She was a trailblazing trans woman in comics and sci-fi communities that were frequently male-dominated, and her lifelong love of both superheroes in particular and the comics medium in general allowed her to confidently turn their storytelling tropes inside out, truly queering her comics in every sense of the word.

In the months before her passing, the editors of DC Pride were speaking to Rachel about writing a new story for this very issue, and her enthusiasm for the project was boundless, as she planned to return to her themes of the superhero and the secret identity, of the "kink" of costumes, and of the revelatory freedom that she found in these characters. Unfortunately, just as work was set to begin on the script, completing it became impossible for her. In the absence of that last great work, but with gratitude for the incredible stories she did give us, we've opted to turn the pages we reserved for Rachel's story over to her friends, and to the fans whose lives she changed, to share their memories of her.”

—Unspecified Author or Editor

“I met Rachel Pollack in 1985, at a convention, where I was interviewing her about Salvador Dali’s Tarot, and then I met her again a couple of days later at the Milford Science Fiction Writers’ Conference, and we became friends fast. She was smart and funny, she was a brilliant writer, and she was the first person I’d met who knew more than I did about obscure Jewish mythology.

She told me off for writing a line of dialogue. ‘But that’s the only thing in the whole story that’s actually true,’ I told her, and she explained that art truth and reality truth were two very different things. And I knew she was right.

I don’t know how much I learned about writing, but listening to Rachel and Gwyneth Jones and John Clute and Lisa Tuttle and the rest of them, I learned so much about reading, and what I learned would change me as a writer.

Rachel was my friend. I had never met a person who had transitioned before and I had so many questions and, patiently, she answered all of them. She decided I needed to know Roz Kaveney, and Roz and I have been friends for decades now.

In 1988 I was writing Books of Magic and knew I needed a Tarot reading in the comic. Rachel was in London, and I asked her what the reading should be. She took me out to buy a Tarot deck that spoke to me, and I saw what happened when Rachel Pollack walked into a Tarot shop. It was a little like what happened when The Beatles went on Ed Sullivan. And then she gave me a beautiful reading of four cards, which encapsulated the whole of the story I was trying to tell.

She won the Arthur C. Clarke Award in 1989 for Unquenchable Fire, and I read it and suspected Rachel was creating her own school of fiction, her own brand of magical realism.

We argued, gently, about Wanda’s fate in A Game of You, and Rachel did what I wish everyone who had an argument about art would do, which is she took what she wanted to say and put it into a comic. Tom Peyer had asked her to write Doom Patrol after Grant Morrison left, and she did a remarkable job. I loved the delirious joy of her comics, the magic and the sense of fun, in Doom Patrol and in the comics that followed Doom Patrol.

I was thrilled to see Rachel when I moved to Upstate New York, and then I didn’t see her for years. I did that thing where you think you’re in touch with your friend, but really you’re just on social media at the same times. I was stuck out of the country during COVID, and Rachel had cancer. I was thrilled when I returned to hear that she had beaten the cancer, and then I was going to see her and she hadn’t beaten the cancer. A whole new cancer had turned up on the day she had beaten the first one.

I got to see Rachel more in the past few months than I had in the previous few years. She was as funny as ever, as sharp and as wise. I got to know her wife, Zoe, and to appreciate their love. I got to tell her bad Jewish jokes that, I suspect, I’d probably first heard from her. ‘Everywhere I went, people said ‘Look at the schmuck on the camel!’’ Some people die well—not necessarily bravely, necessarily, but gently and wisely and kind. Rachel was going to be one of those. She asked me to come to her funeral, and I said that I would.

Her funeral, several months later, was in the sunshine. It was filled with friends of hers from comics, from fiction, from Tarot, from writing, from teaching, from family, from the world, and Rachel lay above the grave on a wooden plank, wrapped in white winding sheet. We said true things about her, and we were funny and honest and there was so much love, and then we shoveled the earth on her, and cried, and said our goodbyes.

I’ve never met anyone like her. I’m glad she was my friend.”

—Neil Gaiman

“Rachel Pollack and I had the same favorite comic book—why, Doom Patrol, of course—and for a while she was its writer and I was its editor. She followed Grant Morrison, whose name was big and growing even then, and for years it seemed like Grant’s era might totally eclipse hers in memory. But DC released her Doom Patrol omnibus in 2022, and in the process unwrapped the radiation-proof bandages from her work, exposing the piercing and radiant appreciation that so many fans felt for it. On top of that, this year Dennis Culver and Chris Burnham, the creators of the excellent Unstoppable Doom Patrol, paid a moving in-story tribute to Rachel’s cast of broken-but-healing heroes.

I’m glad she got to see the omnibus, and I’m grateful for the chance it gave us to relive her perceptive, ironic, unsettling, and revelatory run. It was known for being strange and surreal, but there was so much more going on. Doom Patrol had been weird before, and funny, but never quite as wise or kindly meant.

A story that I always think of when I think of Rachel featured yours truly. At the end of my time as an editor—I had decided I wanted to write full-time—I called the creators I worked with to let them know I was leaving. Most of them, quite understandably, reacted with some implied variation of ‘What’s going to happen to me?’ It made me start to think I was being horrible and selfish. But when I called Rachel and nervously told her what I had decided, there was a silence, and then she said, ‘Quitting is good for the soul.’”

—Tom Peyer

“I met Rachel Pollack in the late ‘90s at WisCon, the feminist science fiction convention where we were both guests. It was the first day of the con, and they were introducing all the guests. I had read Rachel’s Doom Patrol comics and at least one of her books, Unquenchable Fire, and was excited about meeting her. She must have felt the same about me, because when the introductions were over, we headed straight toward each other as though we’d been magnetized, and we became friends immediately.

We lived on opposite sides of the continent, so we didn’t get to see each other that often, but thank the Goddess for email. I visited Rachel’s house once and she visited mine once. Her house was nicer. She took me to visit Hyde Park, Franklin Roosevelt’s old home, now a historic site—we were both FDR fans—and I taught her a Yiddish World War II song. We were both into our Jewishness, but from different angles. Rachel was interested in the mystic side, and I was into Yiddishkeit. Rachel had a bat mitzvah, and I studied Yiddish.

Rachel and I discovered we had the same birthday—August 17, which we shared with Mae West and Davy Crockett. So we sent each other birthday cards that also included happy birthday wishes to Mae and Davy.

I knew Rachel had written many books on the Tarot, so when one day I found a complete set of Tarot cards lying in the street, I decided the Goddess wanted her to have them, and I sent them to her on our birthday. After that, the Goddess would put out Tarot cards for me to find almost every year, often just in time for Rachel’s birthday presents. In return, she sent two Tarot cards that she had drawn for me when I was being treated for cancer. (I’m cancer free now!) I saved them and put them away safely—somewhere.

Last year a neighbor who was a collector of stuff died and left his collections to us, his neighbors, to take for free. Among all the stuff in his stuff-filled rooms was an unopened set of Tarot cards. Shortly after I found the cards, my Romani neighbors who lived around the corner put a book on Tarot out on the street, so I took that for Rachel. I mailed the book and cards to Rachel for our birthday.

For the first time, I got no answering card. I didn’t know that Rachel’s lymphoma had come back.

And somehow, it all got away from me.

Periodically, I would think, ‘Phone her—must phone Rachel,’ but something would come up and I’d forget to phone, or it would be too late to phone because of the time difference between New York and California. Damn it!

I miss you, Rachel. In our next lives, I’ll try to be a better friend.”

—Trina Robbins

“I first met Rachel Pollack when I was the assistant editor on The Sandman and she was the new Doom Patrol monthly writer. I shared an office with Tom Peyer, who was Rachel’s editor, and when Rachel swept in like a redheaded bohemian priestess, I always wound up putting aside my own work so I could chat a bit with Rachel as well. She had the rare gift of wielding her considerable expertise about comics and mythology in a way that made the person talking to her feel smarter.

After I left DC Comics to write full-time, I moved to Rhinebeck and discovered that Rachel lived there, too. We formed a small writing group that met once a week, usually in my kitchen. Always as kind as she was insightful, Rachel spent more time celebrating what worked than critiquing what didn’t. She did a lot of celebrating, of others’ writing and of her own, delighting in the words and worlds that moved through her.

She was, pre-pandemic, a frequent guest at my Passover Seder, the only person besides myself and my mother who knew all the Hebrew and all the traditional melodies. Her vast knowledge of midrash and Kabbalah made her comments more delicious than the charoset she made, and let me tell you, that was pretty damn good. 

In October, when she started to get really sick and I started to visit more frequently, often with Neil Gaiman, Rachel defied any expectation of how a dying person ought to act. She cracked Borscht Belt jokes and talked about writing and writers, and then I went with her wife, Zoe, to pick out a grave. We discussed the Tarot, which I had belatedly begun to study along with her seminal book on the subject, Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom. I asked, ‘What does it mean when you get an auspicious card in a place that means it’s negative?’ ‘It means that’s what you’re struggling with,’ she replied.

I am struggling with this turn of the cards. I cannot fully fathom that she will not be sitting at our favorite local café, writing, but ready to put down her antique fountain when she sees me. Yet when I turn back to her writing, I feel her still with me: Doom Patrol Rachel, Writing Partner Rachel, Rachel of the Passover Seder, Rachel Poet, Rachel Priestess, Rachel Friend.”

—Alisa Kwitney

“Rachel Pollack loved comics.

When we first talked about comics, it was about her own. Eight years ago I asked Martha Thomases if the Doom Patrol run after Grant’s was worth checking out, as I hadn’t heard much talk of it. She said ‘Yes. Read it.’ I adored the run and reached out to Rachel via email to let her know. To my surprise, I heard back from her within 20 minutes.

Over time we talked about the comics and creators that she loved. Carl Barks and the Duck comics, particularly the characters of Huey, Dewey, and Louie, meant a great deal to her. Little Lulu was high on her list. And The Fox and the Crow inspired a whole arc of her Doom Patrol run. The works of Jack Kirby (particularly on Fantastic Four and the Fourth World saga), Steve Ditko, and Gene Colan were brought up often, as were series including Xambi and Promethea, which she revisited often. She had even reached out to Marvel back in the early ‘70s inquiring about writing opportunities, two decades before writing at DC. 

Rachel saw the inherent queerness in superhero comics back in the Silver Age. One example she would reference was “The Town That Hated Superboy!” from 1967’s Superboy #139. In it, the citizens of Smallville turn against Superboy for nearly two pages. What stood out to Rachel was how Ma and Pa Kent pretended to hate Superboy out of fear that if they didn’t, those around them might suspect that Superboy was really their adoptive son, Clark. Though taking this sequence and relating it to an idea as heavy as the violent consequences of inadvertently outing someone by simply treating them with kindness was unlikely Otto Binder’s intention, the subtext was picked up on by many queer comics readers at the time in addition to Rachel.

Through the years I got to have a greater understanding of Rachel’s unbelievable kindness as well. She saw the world as a positive place and held out hope for just about everyone. Rachel discussed how attitudes with London’s Gay Liberation Front turned against the trans community in the ‘70s, but she would also talk about how some of the same people came back around and were vocal advocates for trans rights by the ‘90s. Whereas most, understandably, would allow themselves to be bitter and resentful, Rachel’s capacity for love and compassion was too strong for that.

I was devastated knowing just how many projects Rachel had in the works and how many stories she still had to tell. But after taking time to think on it, I know that no matter how long she stayed here with us, her work would never be done. Her stories will continue through those who love her and those who haven’t found her yet but will love her just the same. 

I love talking about Rachel’s work and her kindness. I plan on doing so for the rest of my life.”

—Joe Corallo

“‘It’s so cool that you created the first trans superhero,’ a very nice person told me recently. Writing feels like stuffing a message in a bottle and lobbing it out into the open sea, so to meet someone who had caught one of my bottles and read what was inside was extremely exciting. Unfortunately, I am a nerd first and a lover of accolades second, so I had to correct them. 

Galaxy, the character I created, is not the first out trans superhero in the DC Universe. Kate Godwin, created by Rachel Pollack 30 years ago, is. Kate is important, but more than that, she’s important to me. 

I was a teenager 30 years ago. That’s also important.

There’s a lot of talk of firsts in superhero comics, most of it meaningless. Dick Grayson absolutely deserves the ‘Sensational Character Find of 1940’ label trumpeted on the cover of his first appearance, Detective Comics #38, but you don’t need to read it, even as a die-hard Robin fan.

You can’t say that about Doom Patrol #70, the first appearance of Kate Godwin. That issue changes everything. That issue changes lives. Because Kate, a kind and funny woman, with an amusing power set and questionable taste in superhero outfits, who is beautifully, unapologetically trans—Kate is the viewpoint character.

Imagine the power of that. Holding up a trans woman—a lesbian trans woman, at that!—and saying ‘This, this is who you, the reader, should identify with.’ To have a trans woman be smart and pretty and likable, and not an object of scorn or pity, or a side character. She was the hero! I can tell you from experience, that is a tough sell now.

Reading that comic in the 1990s felt like a lightning bolt from heaven.

It was too powerful for my teenage self to handle. It was radioactive, and yet I would read my copy ragged to bask in its glow. I can call up its panels from memory. When I finally began my transition, many years later, I wore a lot of black tank tops and jeans, unconsciously aping Kate’s unofficial uniform. I didn’t put it together until recently, rereading those 30-year-old stories that I had imprinted upon like a baby bird. Early on, I wasn’t sure of the kind of woman I was, but clearly I knew the kind of woman I wanted people to see. Someone like Kate Godwin.

I never got the chance to meet Rachel Pollack and tell her how I had received her message in a bottle. How I had held it close to my heart until I finally found the strength to absorb its message. How she showed me I wasn’t alone, and I could be a hero, even if that just meant saving myself.

But I hear people say those words to me, having read about Galaxy. Which will have to do.

Thank you for being first, Rachel.”

—Jadzia Axelrod

[ipsen]

Blank Canvas 17

Read on AO3. Summary: Sen Takatsuki. Words: 5459 Chapter 16 Chapter 18 Master Post

Today started like any other.

Papa left early in the morning, but while she was usually too sleepy to catch him at the door, she didn’t this time. Though it seemed like a normal day, it was actually quite special, and she was determined to make sure he remembered. She latched onto him just as he was about to step through, grinning.

Fortunately, he knew before she even said anything. “Happy birthday, Sen.” He smiled and ruffled her head. “We’ll open your present when I get back, okay?”

She nodded excitedly, relishing the sound of her new name. As an aspiring author, Papa had suggested she get a pseudonym to protect herself, and the kanji— half of ‘hot spring’— was one of her favorites. So much so, he promised to plan a trip when they had enough money.

“Thirteen years old… Time flies.” He gently pulled her off of him. “I’ll see you tonight, then we can open your present. Okay?”

Sen gave a thumbs up. “Okay!”

Once she saw him turn the corner, she gathered her things— a box of pencils, some notebooks, and a patchy backpack— and jogged the handful of blocks down to the library. That was her routine: while Papa was at work, she was going to ‘school’ at the library— otherwise known as hunting for kanji she didn’t understand. Whenever she encountered one, she would make note of it in her notebooks, along with all of its readings and the appropriate strokes.

The librarian— a nice old lady named Erina— was always happy to help Sen identify and define words she couldn’t understand. It was nice having someone besides Papa who didn’t judge her for her, admittedly, odd taste in literature. Even though she did occasionally dip herself into a romance or adventure novel now and then, she always found herself coming back to horror and mystery. The idea of peeling back someone’s facade and seeing what was truly beneath fascinated her.

The book she was reading right now was one of her new favorites: a translated version of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, considered by many to be the original science fiction novel. An arrogant scientist, Frankenstein, believing himself to be equal or even above God, stepping into His domain by creating life— there was something about that premise that Sen found fascinating. Not only that, but the plight of the creature, where it is forced to become what people perceived it as, was just as, if not more, interesting.

Sen was usually a fast reader, but she took her time with this one, reading and rereading chapters until she fully understood what had happened.

In the evening, Papa came to pick her up, her present in hand. “I imagined you would be far too excited to wait until home,” he explained.

And he was right— as soon as he held out the wrapped box, Sen snatched it and tore it open. Printer paper and tape drifted to the floor as she beheld the object beneath.

It was another notebook, just like last year and the year before. Ever since she took an interest in creating her own stories, Papa had taken it upon himself to give her at least one every year; that way, she could fill them front to back with the plenty of ideas bursting from her head.

However, when Sen thumbed through all of the pages at once, they were filled. At first, she thought it might have been Papa’s, but on a closer look, he didn’t write so… formally, nor so neatly.

“It belonged to your mother.” He answered the question writ plain on her face. “She was a writer, like you.”

Sen’s smile threatened to split her cheeks open. “She was?”

He nodded with a smile, but it was his reserved one, which he used whenever he was hiding something. “She was a journalist, and these were her most important findings. It’s very dense, but… she talks about your father starting with the bookmark.”

Her father. The man who was still alive and gave her away to Papa. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but— “If I read this, I’ll understand?”

The conversation about her adoption had been a difficult one, but she still loved Papa, and she knew that sometimes, things didn’t— or rather, they couldn’t— work out.

He nodded. “You will.”

—

Papa could be a bad judge of character sometimes.

Even after she pored over the text from front to back three times a day, she didn’t understand. Not really.

Her mother, under the name Ukina, was a young, if sickly, journalist looking into what Sen would eventually learn was V. Through her findings, she met Papa and, eventually, Sen’s father, Kuzen. It was the greatest mistake they’d ever made.

At first, Ukina’s findings were purely professional. Detailed records, strange coincidences, and the bloody trail of money left in V’s wake. To Sen, who had only a vague understanding of such things, it seemed like a mystery novel starring her family.

As Ukina seemingly spent more time with Kuzen, her emotions, once fully suppressed in favor of her reports, began to crop up like blooming flowers. Not only that, but her findings eventually took a backseat to Kuzen after a fashion.

Then, she was pregnant, and Ukina, while frightened, was rather excited. She was ready for a life with Kuzen, a life with the child.

It never happened.

That was where it should have ended. Sen would have lamented the loss of a mother and a father, destroyed and separated by death, but eventually she would have returned to life with Papa. Eventually, the only normal that she had ever known would take over again.

But the 8th ward happened. Kasuka Mado happened. The Washuu Task Force happened. Her raging, foolish fear happened.

The world happened.

———

Sen stormed up the stairs in her apartment complex, focused only on reaching her destination. Her neighbor— a guy named Rio— raised his hand in an awkward greeting, but she shoved past him and slammed her apartment door behind her.

The impact made the nearest pile of books collapse in a heap at her feet. Rather than pick it up, she just kicked them out of the way, throwing her coat on the floor with it.

What the fuck was that? How was Kuzen so fucking clueless, so fucking self-centered, that he thought he could show up like that? Even if she hadn’t called him out (as he deserved to be and more), what sort of obtuse perception of himself did he have to think, “Yes, I shall go to this gathering, which is held to help distract from Nashiro Yasuhisa, who I effectively killed as the employer of the Torso. I will not tell anyone that I did this, and there is nothing wrong with that. I am so smart and wonderful and my favorite taste is the taste of leather and human ass because I am a bootlicker and a brown-noser. Bon appétit, I say!”

She found another pile of books, completely unorganized, and shoved it over. One of them had the gall to land squarely on her toe, and she yelped.

Curled up against the wall, nursing the wound, she hoped to herself that Kurona had killed Kuzen. That would be a good consolation prize. How old was he, anyway? Eighty? ninety? Either way, he basically had one foot in the grave; a little push would do everyone wonders. Plus, it’d make this whole thing worth it since Haise was never gonna talk to her again.

She grabbed the offending book and flung it at the couch. It slapped against a pillow with an unsatisfying thump. It just made her angrier. More piles toppled over, and she threw books against books against books, bruising the covers and roughing up the pages until the entire room was painted with the ugliness inside her.

Sen’s time in the orphanage was spent obsessing over her mother’s— over Ukina’s notebook.

What Sen initially thought were Ukina’s thoughts shifting from her job to her lover became a bright, but ultimately naive, journalist being misled and preyed on by a man twice her age. The findings after Ukina met Kuzen were shallow at best, like a pinprick on your thumb, and anything worse was a dead end. Kuzen was slowly encroaching on her work like a parasite, throwing the veil over her eyes and making her believe she could still see.

“Kids! Lunch!” called the lady running the orphanage.

Sen was slow to answer the call, waiting for the pitter-patter of the other kids to fade away before getting up herself. She found that food had lost its luster since she was escorted out of her cell. Even if it hadn’t, it was such a chore to fill her belly. There were more important things to do, like read Ukina’s journal for the thirtieth time or scribbling in her notebook.

Those scribbles were especially important; they would be her ticket out of here.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t bullied at the orphanage— far from it. She was mostly ignored, actually, like a harmless ghost stalking the premises. A more presumptuous and haughty child would have hated it, but she actually preferred it; the other kids were either too bubbly, too selfish, or too young. Sometimes all three. Were she to strike up a conversation with one of them, it quickly became apparent that there were no grounds for a friendship. Not a lasting one, at least.

Besides, none of them could read— or rather, none of them could read at Sen’s level. The likes of Dazai, Kafka, Poe, and Murakami were beyond any of their wildest imaginings, and that was probably why she felt so, so— stuck.

She arrived at the mess hall and sat on the furthest edge of the few tables available. A quick scan of the room revealed everyone had gotten their fair share of food, so she picked out whatever was left over. Plate filled, she ate swiftly and efficiently before returning to her room without a word.

She found her notebook, stashed in a box locked with a key slotted in her prized copy of Frankenstein, given to her by Erina as a parting gift. Inside its pages were the senseless ramblings that would become Dear Kafka, a lengthy letter/story/poem to the titular author. Kafka also had a complicated relationship with his parents, and it bled into his writing like ink on a page. The Metamorphosis particularly spoke to Sen; the idea of being abandoned by a selfish and ignorant family was an unfortunate possibility for herself.

The pitter-patter of the other kids passed by Sen’s door again, this time in the opposite direction, and this time with chatter about what they were going to do next. Playing, shopping, whiling the time away with each other, and more.

All things Sen wished she understood.

—

The year flew by. She got Dear Kafka published. Shiono adopted her and, along with it, she met Kuzen for the first time.

A part of her had clung to the hope that Kuzen was simply another victim of V, like her and Papa were. That part had spun a tale that he was trapped in their cycle, that he had protected her by giving her a life away from all of that. After all, V liked to employ the poor and gullible; her father had simply grown wise to it, a heroic exception to the rules.

However, when the real deal walked through those doors, dressed in high quality leathers, a golden wristwatch, and the smell of a full belly, that silly fantasy fell apart. Sen realized it then and there: He chose to leave her. He chose V over her.

It seemed there were worse things than just being alone.

———

Her rage was unquenchable, even as she toppled pile after pile, kicked shelf after wall after shelf. Nothing was satisfying enough, and all she was doing was getting tired.

Fine.

Shoving fallen books out of her way with her foot, she made it to the fridge, where she found a six-pack of canned beer. She dragged it with her to the couch, plopped down on what little space remained, and cracked open a can. In her recklessness, it exploded in her face and all over her clothes.

She screwed her eyes shut. That’s just fucking great, isn’t it? She slowly wiped the bubbles off and slapped the new stains on her coat. Amazing.

Whatever. Nothing a proper fucking wash couldn’t fix— if she even got around to it. When had she even done her laundry last? When had she even cared about that? Especially now, when she found she couldn’t give a fuck about anything?

She downed half the can in one go, ignoring how her head quickly began to swim in the liquid. The taste was still disgusting, but at least her belly felt warm with alcohol and not shame. She grabbed the nearest thing to read— a notebook— and nearly tore the cover off to read it.

Seemed she’d grabbed one of her old notebooks, judging by the messy scrawls and the absolute refusal to cross anything out (“It might be valuable!” she always said to Shiono). There didn’t seem to be anything of value the more she read: idle observations, extrapolation based on nothing, and worse. She almost gave up and tried to find something else, until she turned the page:

“Eyes, like tainted diamonds, cross the expanse. They pierce inky tendrils of hair, reaching out for something they will never have. Grasp, miss, grasp. Like children swiping at the ceiling.

“Delicate fingers dig into their master’s scalp, and they fabricate a mockery of reality with the blood. A third option to escape memories and reality both. ‘Foolish,’ they all think. ‘Meaningless. Worthless.’

“Yet they do not stop. They reach out and fabricate and dream. Spilling wine can still be beautiful.”

It was then that Sen recognized the notebook: it was the one she’d brought to Kazuichi Public Park. A fresh buy at the time, she’d gotten it to mark her first day working with Haise Sasaki, the mystery artist whose work nestled up to her like nothing else before.

She remembered being confused at first. The blubbering, anxious mess napping in the coffee shop was him? The niche artist with a small following, whose works captured the innate horror that society could be, was that inexperienced, introverted mess?

But, as the interview continued, the pieces began to fit together. His chin rubs to indicate his lies, his lack of confidence in going to art school, his expert deciphering of her work, unlike anyone she’d met before, and then, his most incredible work yet— those never-before-seen masterpieces— sitting in his portfolio. For her, of all people.

He was hiding behind a mask, just like she was. Where she pushed herself to the front and hid in plain sight, he faded into those backgrounds he hated to draw so much. Different methods, same result.

And then, in the park, she watched him get to work and succumb to the passion he kept in check far too often. His pencil, which once quivered in his grasp, glided effortlessly across the page, and when she caught him looking at her out the corner of her eye, it was like a day’s worth of appreciation was condensed in a single second.

For a brief moment, Sen had seen the real Haise Sasaki: focused, calm, and above all, beautiful.

And tonight, she had punched him for something that wasn’t even his fault. Way to go.

She doubted he’d come back now— as if someone like her was worth choosing over whatever the hell Kuzen had done for him. That old geezer’s years of experience pacifying the likes of the Devil Apes and Black Dobers, all while V stole their turf right under their noses, had to have sunken their roots in deep.

Unlike the Bins, Miza and Naki, and Tatara, Haise had something to lose if he went against V. She was stupid to think she could put herself above those things in a few short months, much as she wished she could. He was the type to pay people back for their kindness, giving more than he had taken. It was his best and worst trait, and because of it, he would pay back Anteiku a thousand times over before her.

The worst part was that Sen couldn’t blame him.

Downing the rest of her beer can, she tossed the notebook away. Better to just focus on something else. It plopped harmlessly on the floor, and the sound stung more than all the others.

She cracked open a second can.

———

Some months after Arima bailed on her, Sen managed to put herself back together with Shiono’s help. A book signing for her most recent release, Industrial, was held to get her back into public thought.

That signing was the first time she met the Bins.

“Name?” she asked, a small smile on her face.

She was faced with a large man, what seemed like his wiry brother, and then who she assumed was their little sister, who couldn’t be over eight or nine. The man nudged his brother forward encouragingly.

“Er… Bin,” he said. “Just Bin.”

“Bin, hm?” She clicked her pen a few times. “Like ‘bottle’?”

He nodded. “Y-Yeah, heheh…”

She scribbled the single kanji down, followed by her own signature. The man spoke up then. “We wanted to thank you personally, by the way, for your donation.”

Sen paused, then looked up. “Donation?” Shiono had assured her that it was anonymous…

The man suddenly looked embarrassed. “O-Oh, uh… Heh, was it? Weird… Sorry about that, then; musta gotten you mixed up with someone else!”

She raised a brow.

The girl then spoke up. “Big Bro, I thought we were here ‘cause you found out it was her, didn’t you?”

“Yumitsu!” the middle brother, the one with the book, hissed.

Sen suddenly laughed. “Looks like I’ve been caught red-handed! How’d you figure it out?”

The man scratched his head. “Big fan of computers, I guess?”

“You go to college for that stuff?”

“Nah; dropout. Couldn’t afford it. We’re holed up in that shelter for a reason.”

She nodded slowly, tracing a circle on the table with her finger. The donation in question was to keep the shelter from being closed down, and keep all its residents from being relocated. The reason it was about to shut down was the Souzu Foundation, which had a keen interest in developing houses on some nearby land. A homeless shelter was just so terrible for marketing, apparently.

She wondered how many other places were under threat. How many other places could she save if she just knew about them?

She glanced up at the man. If she just had someone like this on her side, then—

“You’ll have to tell me more sometime,” she said, slipping her card between the pages. “And thank you for coming!”

———

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

With a groan, Sen stirred at the sound of her phone. Ugh, everything hurt. It was like she’d been crushed by her entire collection last night. As feeling coursed through her body once again— which included a pounding headache— she looked down at herself.

Beer cans and stains across her clothes, and the familiar square weight of books on her chest and stomach. So she was right. In a way. Whatever, close enough. She grabbed her phone and checked who texted her.

From: Shiono hey kiddo im outside

Oh, please be fucking joking.

Ding, dong.

“Goddammit…” she muttered, forcing herself up and sending books and cans toppling to the floor. Oh, how awesome.

She tripped every other step getting to the door; she swore to God, if Shiono really was on the other side, his ass was not getting in—

One look through the peephole confirmed her worst fears. Carefully and begrudgingly, she cracked open the door.

“Hey…” she managed, trying to blink away her headache.

Shiono took one look at her, then sighed. “You’ve been drinking.”

“So?” Sen nursed the back of her head. “I can make my own decisions.”

“And why did you make this decision?” He put his hand on the door.

“Doesn’t matter. Why’re you here?”

He raised a brow. “What, can’t a dad show up for his daughter?”

She scrutinized him, waiting for his tell for when he lied. It didn’t come. “Ugh, fine. Come on in…”

“Thanks, kiddo.” He happily showed himself in.

He didn’t comment on the state of the place until he made them some tea (Sen would have clambered to take his place, but her hangover had other plans). “You’ve been busy,” he said, the real question tucked inside.

She sat down and rested her head on the counter. “Just— ugh— just thought some redecorating was in order.”

“You’re being dodgy too. What happened last night?” He gestured to her cup. “And drink; it’ll help.”

With some effort, she took a sip. Why was he so good at brewing tea? That wasn’t fair. “It was fine.”

He didn’t believe her for a second. How irritating. “And yet you have a hangover.”

“It’s a hangover; that doesn’t mean anything.” She turned her head so that she couldn’t see him. “Sometimes you drink shittily.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, I can’t make you.” Shiono touched her shoulder. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

She scowled, but relented. “Headache medicine.”

He chuckled. “Anything else?”

The selfish little brat inside her brain, the one that wanted to be coddled day in and day out, seized control. “Warm water, and a blanket. Also—”

—

After a slow, warm bath, a fresh change of clothes, and Shiono shoveling books to the edges of the floor, Sen talked. Slowly, but she talked, and Shiono was a patient man. She talked about Kuzen, about Kurona, about the Torso, and about Haise.

She sat on the couch, while he stood behind her and braided her hair. “So,” he said, “what’ll you do now?”

Sen scoffed. “I thought you’d have more to say.”

“You’re one of the smartest people I know.” He fished out a hair tie “I think you already know what I’d say.”

Her mouth twisted into a frown; she hated when he used that against her. “Ugh, fine. You want me to try to apologize to Yasuhisa, and you think that it’ll ultimately make me feel better.”

“And?”

“And that while my anger is justified, my actions were not,” she grumbled. “There was a better, safer way.”

A pause. He finished the tie. “And?”

“And—?!” She whirled on him, almost slapping him in the face. “What the fuck else is there?!”

He held up the notebook from last night. “Who else do you need to apologize to?”

She snatched the book away with a glare. “He won’t accept it,” she said.

“You sure?”

“Shiono, I punched him. Pretty sure that’s good grounds for a no.”

“You won’t know until you try,” he said. “You’ve got work tomorrow, right? Maybe he’ll show up.”

“Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes, drinking her tea with more ferocity.

“I think you’ll be surprised.” Shiono leaned a bit closer. “I know you two’ve been dating for a while, but he was head-over-heels for you long before the resort.”

“That—!” Sen felt her face flush and tried to maintain some semblance of dignity. “Shut up…”

Ugh, she should have known he was in on it when he showed up. He’d been scouting out Haise as a partner, the nosy bastard.

Shiono, meanwhile, kept smiling. “C’mon, Sen. I think you should give yourself a chance. You’re a lot more charming than you think you are.”

She made a face, all traces of budding appreciation gone. “I don’t want to hear that kinda stuff from my dad, thanks.”

He burst into laughter. She allowed him a few peals alone before joining in.

———

Call it luck, call it fate. Nineteen-year old Sen was glad either way.

“Drink up, boys!!” a young Naki cried out, tears streaking down his face. “This’s th’ last party we’ll have as the White Suits of Tokyo!!! Enjoy it!! All-you-can-eat stuffing session!!!”

Those around him weren’t faring much better; all were drinking themselves into a stupor, crying, or both. Sen watched the scene with her mouth hung open, hovering somewhere between shock and amusement.

For the past week, she’d been trying to find the owner of the White Suits, ever since their property was bought out by Ihei Inc. in an attempt to flush out flowering small businesses. Now, lo and behold, with no work on her end, there he was! And with his staff, too! Now, all she had to do was—

“Are you Sen Takatsuki?”

Fuck. Sen slowly turned around to the source of the voice.

It was a young woman with jet black hair and piercing red eyes. She was sitting at a table with three others: a very small woman and two men with white hair, but the same eyes as the first woman.

“I’m so sorry,” the black-haired woman said. “I just— I wanted to make sure, in case you actually were and not just, y’know.”

“Fei,” the second woman said, “don’t bother her, please.”

Sen shook her head, plastering a smile on her face. “No, it’s fine.” She brushed some hair out of her face; honestly, she should be more surprised this didn’t happen sooner. “Are you a fan?”

“My brother Xin is!” The woman, apparently named Fei, grinned. “Right, Xin?”

Of the two men at the table, the smaller one with a face mask, probably Xin, tensed. He couldn’t be older than Sen was. Was he sick? She would’ve stayed home, personally; any excuse to not make the trek to Shoeisha was a good excuse.

The older man nudged him. “Go on.”

Xin huffed through his mask. “I’m sorry about this. You seem busy,” he said, then looked at the other man. “And we’re pretty busy too, right? Mr. Houji’s gonna be here any second now.”

Sen blinked. “You could argue I’m always busy. And—” Her gaze landed on the tiny woman at the table, who was picking at her food and not listening. “Wait, are you— Are you Miza Kusakari?”

Miza looked up, confused. “I am, but—”

Sen practically slid across the table to grab Miza’s hands. “Did you sell your property?! Tell me you didn’t.”

Miza reeled backwards at the sudden familiarity. “Er, no, not yet, but— Wait, how do you know about that?”

“Details can wait.” Big Bin and his new partner— a hacker and independent reporter named Chie— worked pretty well together. “Did you sell your building to Ihei Inc.?”

“No, that’s supposed to be classified. How’d you figure it out?”

Stubborn woman; Sen was trying to help! “I have a business opportunity for you, and it involves that gaggle of guys right over there.” She pointed to the table with the White Suits, who were grappling each other in a pile of hugs. “They were duped by Ihei too, and you’re gonna get duped too.”

Miza pursed her lips. “Even so, I can’t just— I don’t have the funds to pay the property tax.”

“Let me take care of that.” Sen grinned, sliding into an open spot next to Fei.

“We were just discussing that,” the older man said. “Hands off, Takatsuki.”

“Yan,” Xin said, glancing at Sen. “She’s Sen Takatsuki. She has a lot of pull here in Japan, far more than us. If Ihei Inc. catches wind that she’s part of this, then maybe—”

“Oh, familiar?” This was going much better than she thought it would. Both White Suits and Triple Blades under the same roof, along with whoever these three were— it was like hitting the jackpot.

Yan’s eyes narrowed. “Familiar how?”

She rested her chin in her hands. “You could say I have some business with friends of the Ihei.”

Miza just looked confused. “Okay, I guess I’m missing something here. What?”

Sen grinned again. “I think you’ll like this one.”

———

If only she could laugh or smile now.

She shouldn’t be nervous. This was Haise, the nicest guy in the world. The same guy who turned into a sweaty mess whenever he touched her fucking bra strap. The same guy who had embraced her scars without a second thought. The same guy who was able to peel back the mask stuck to her face and stare at— even admire— the skinless thing behind it. Sen could apologize to someone like that, no problem.

And yet: her grip on the train pole was like iron.

She hated the idea of sucking up to someone, even if that someone was the one of the few people she’d be semi-okay with. It still made her feel weak and vulnerable, things she still was getting used to being. Such a stupid feeling, she thought— one she ought to crush in her hands like an extra shitty draft. She was an adult; this was nothing.

When her phone rang, however, she jumped. She brought it out to check, hoping to see Haise’s name, but it was an unfamiliar number instead. Still, she answered.

“Uh, hello?”

“Ms. Takatsuki?” a familiar voice said on the other side. “It’s, um, it’s me, Hinami…”

“Oh.” This’d be fun. “Uh, hi…”

She’d forgotten she’d given Hina her business card. They’d really hit it off at the gathering, and Sen simply assumed that whatever goodwill she’d built up during that time was completely gone. Apparently not; she wasn’t sure why, but it was a pleasant surprise. If Hina could forgive her, then why couldn’t Haise?

“I-I’m sorry, is this a bad time? I just— I wanted to— I’m sorry; I’m just—”

“No, no!” Sen cleared her throat. “No, it’s good to hear from you… I was just heading into work, was all, and, well, you know how it’s been.” She shook off the nerves. “Anyway, what’d you need?”

Hina seemed to hesitate. “W-Well, um… I wanted to know: is Haise with you right now?”

Sen bit her lip and switched hands. The train slowed as it approached its next stop. “No… We separated after I left the party.”

“Oh…” The girl sounded nervous. “I’m sorry, then. I guess I thought— Well, Hide said he never came back after he followed you, so I assumed that— I-I’m sorry.”

Sen blinked. That couldn’t be right. “Wait, he isn’t— he wasn’t with you or Hide? What about Touka?”

Touka was also an absolute delight to be around. Surprisingly, minus their exact opposite taste in books (Touka was a hell of a lot more cutesy than Sen would have thought her to be), they had a lot in common. Orphanage, no parents, headstrong— it was  actually pretty funny. Maybe that was why Haise wasn’t so taken aback by Sen’s aggressiveness; Touka was, arguably, used to be worse.

“Not her, either…” Sen heard Hina shuffle around. “Do you know anywhere else he might have gone?”

She thought of a few places— the Kazuichi Public Park, the cafe where they first met— but none were a good fit to sleep in. “Have you texted him already?”

“Yeah, Hide has… No response.” Hina’s voice was shaking as Sen got off the train. “So if you haven’t seen him, then—”

“Hina, Hina. I need you to relax. Breathe,” Sen said, though her own pace quickened. “I know Haise. We know Haise. He wouldn’t disappear on a whim like that; there’s no precedent for it.”

He was sensitive, not suicidal, she told herself. Maybe at one point he might have been the other, but not today. He was… different now. Better. Well, better than he used to be. Sen didn’t need to know him for a long time to know that.

She reached Shoeisha, and just before she could enter, she saw Ami speaking to someone. By itself, it wasn’t unusual, but Sen froze when she glanced at their attire.

A long black trenchcoat, slacks, and shoes, with a fedora placed neatly on their head.

Her stomach dropped out of her abdomen and hit the floor.

“Um, Ms. Takatsuki?” Hina’s voice served to help her out of her trance. “Are you still there?”

“Where are you right now, Hina?” Sen asked, immediately turning back toward the station.

“What’s wrong?”

She cut Hina off. “Where are you right now?”

Hina verbally flinched. “A-At Haise and Hide’s apartment! But, um—”

Sen sprinted down the street, shoving past anyone in her way. “Who’s with you?”

“Touka and Ayato… Hide’s gonna come back too, so—”

Hide would be there. Good. “Alright, don’t move; I’m heading over right now.”

“Wait, what are you—”

She jabbed her finger into the screen, ending the call.

[oikawaplssteponme]

original request: @bakugousmymassa Hi willow🥺❤️❤️ ok so this has been on my mind for so long and I hope it makes sense. Ok so bakugou x fem reader and like yk she’s simping for him through manga/anime little does she know he’s doing the same thing is his world. And like they start thinking about each other and it comes through in the manga/anime and like they somehow find a way to communicate through it and like their love/simping becomes so strong that she randomly pops up in the common room and the bakusquad/class 1a is like 👁👄👁 and like they kiss or whatever Ik it’s long and weird but like omg I can’t get it out my mind sorryyy😭😭

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

warnings: some swear words

genre: fluff, a bit angsty

a/n: thank you so much for the request bb! i added my own twist to it so i hope you like it!!

finally done with all my inbox requests!! 99% of them were bakugou in which i had zero complaints. i am here for all your bakugou needs 🤩i got a bit carried away with writing this so that’s why im letting it have it’s own moment☺️ i loved writing this and i would love to hear your thoughts on it (reblogs are greatly appreciated too🧡) enjoy xx

•

It was your favorite bookstore. It was where you bought your first manga. It was where you found a love for all these complex characters and incredible storylines. This bookstore seemed to satisfy every craving you had in regards to a 2D boy to fawn over. So there was no surprise that when you strolled into the bookstore, you headed straight to where the My Hero Academia mangas were.

You had read them all, even watched the anime. For some reason, you just kept coming back. You couldn’t get enough.

Something on the bookshelf had caught your attention. Among the original mangas, there was one lone book, different from the rest. You stared at the cover. It had your favorite character on it, keeping you intrigued. You had never seen this one before. Was it a side story? Was it a new release? If so, why would there only be one? Out of your own curiosity, you decided to buy it.

You handed the bookstore cashier the manga and your money. They looked at you, simply smiling.

“Is Katsuki Bakugou your favorite?” they asked.

“Yeah, he is,” you smiled. They handed you the book.

“Unfortunately there are no returns on this special edition. I guess you’ll be stuck with him,” they said. You chuckled, taking their comment as a joke.

“I’m okay with that.”

~

Once you were home, you sat down on your couch and pulled out the book, opening it up.

“What the…”

The pages were blank. The entire book had nothing in it. No words, no drawings, just plain white paper.

“How can you sell an empty book?” you groaned. You thought you had wasted your money on this. You set the book down, staring at the blank page angrily.

Suddenly, one spot of ink appeared on the page. Then more. Your eyes grew as the pages created their own drawing in the corner.

“This isn’t happening…”

You stared at the drawing, stunned.

“What kind of idiot buys a book before opening it first,” read the text bumble. On the page was a drawing of Katsuki Bakugou, his arms crossed with his classic smirk.

“H-How did you just…”

Another drawing began to appear next to the original.

“What? Never seen a self-drawing manga before? Come on dumbass, keep up with me here.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Bakugou was talking to you, through a manga.

“B-But you’re not real… you’re just a drawing…”

“Sure I’m a drawing right now, just as you are a drawing on my end. Doesn’t make me or you any less real.”

“Why are you talking to me… how did you find me?”

“Well, how did you find out about me?”

“I read about you in my mangas and I watch your show…”

“Then there is your answer gorgeous. I do the same.”

“I’M A CHARACTER IN A MANGA?” Your brain couldn’t seem to process everything that was happening.

“Of course you are. Damn, you aren’t the brightest…”

“B-But then how did I get your book? Anyone could have bought it.”

“Well me and Shitty Hair figured out a way to leave something behind for you. So that’s how you can talk to me through the book,” explained Bakugou.

“This isn’t happening...this is a lot to process right now. You’re like my dream guy but you’re supposed to be fictional and I’m not entirely sure what to do with all this new information,” you sighed.

“I can explain better in person.”

“I’m sorry, what-”

“Go grab a pen.”

“Bakugou-”

“Go grab a pen Y/N.”

You did as you were told, grabbing the nearest pen.

“Okay now what?”

“Go to a new page and draw yourself, like how I am,” Bakugou instructed. You were skeptical but did it anyway. You created a small box and drew yourself, resembling a manga panel.

“Now write your location as ‘in the common area’.”

“This has to be some kind of fever dream…”

“Just do it dumbass.”

You carefully wrote your desired location.

“Okay now what?”

“I’ll see you later dumbass,” smirked Bakugou. Your eyes grew.

“What- no you can’t just leave-”

“Bye nerd.”

No new panel appeared. You sighed, still in shock.

“There’s no way that was real…”

You set the manga down and laid on your back. You felt a wave of exhaustion come over you. You yawned, slowly falling asleep.

~

“Be quiet, you’re gonna wake her up!”

“How did she even get here?”

“Do you think Bakugou would be mad if I asked her out?”

“It’s not like she would say yes…”

“HEY-”

“Shit I think she’s awake....”

You felt groggy. As if you had been sleeping for days. You slowly started to open your eyes. People-like figures hovered around you.

“Back up, give her some space…”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. The room was bright. The yellow-tinted walls and green floor caught your attention.

“Where am I…”

“UA High! A prestigious academy made for creating the world’s best Heroes!”

“Wait… Iida?”

“Correct!”

You soon realized what had happened. You looked around to all the familiar faces.

“Iida, Deku, Jirou, Kaminari, Momo, Mina, Kirishima, Todoroki…”

“Damn you’re good!” smiled Denki. You couldn’t believe it. You had some how made your way into your favorite story.

“Am I in the anime?”

“What anime?” asked Todoroki.

“Our anime! Or manga whichever you prefer!” smiled Deku.

“This has to be a dream, right?”

“How? You just woke up?”

“Todoroki it was a rhetorical question…”

“Oh…”

“Um where is Bakugou?” You asked. Everyone smiled.

“He’s waiting outside. You can go meet him,” explained Kirishima. You gulped. It’s not every day you get to come face to face with your fictional crush. Well, not so fictional now.

“Uh okay…” You stood up from the couch, beginning to make your way out the door. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

Bakugou was sitting on the steps of the dorms. His heart was beating out of his chest, though he wouldn’t admit it. He twiddled his thumbs as he waited for you to show up.

“H-Hey…” you whispered. Bakugou perked up, immediately standing up and turning around to face you. He looked at you with widened eyes. The both of you just stared at each other for a bit, fathoming the idea that you were really there. Seeing him on a screen or on a page was nothing compared to seeing him in real life.

“Damn…” he mumbled.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Even though this was technically your first meeting, the two of you weren’t strangers. You knew everything about each other. The endless admiration through pages seemed to have led you here. Exactly where you were supposed to be.

“How is this even real?” You questioned. Bakugou chuckled.

“You do realize your world isn’t the only one out there. So I had to take you to mine.”

“So I’m like a character you read about?”

“Yeah, just as I am that to you. I read your story just as you read mine. It’s not that complicated.”

“Why me though?”

Bakugou took a step towards you. He smiled, taking your hand.

“Why wouldn’t I take the opportunity to meet someone I’ve always dreamed about?”

Your face got hot as you tried to hold back your smile. You squeezed his hand.

“I’m glad you did.”

“Then let’s go dumbass,” he said. You raised a brow.

“What?”

“Well we have to write the rest of the book, don’t we? Come on, I’ve only got you for 300 more pages,” He explained.

“Wait there’s a limit on this?”

“Don’t worry about that now. Now come on, we’ve got shit to do.”

~

You and Bakugou spent the entire day together. He showed you around Musutafu, introducing you to all his favorite places. He showed you his favorite places to train, his favorite restaurant, where he likes to buy his mangas, and even where he found the book that brought you here.

You couldn’t help but take mental notes while you were with him. His hair was a lot softer than you imagined, and he actually did smell of sweet caramel. His red eyes weren’t intimidating at all, actually, you found them adorable. Bakugou had little patience, which you figured correctly. As you held his hand, he would mumble soft ‘sorry’s’, afraid that his hands were getting sweaty. You reassured him that he was fine. That caused his cheeks to blush.

The two of you sat at a park bench, enjoying the view of the city before you. Your head was rested on his shoulder as you held onto his arm. You couldn’t believe this was real. The boy you spent ages crushing over through a screen actually felt exactly the same. It was better than words.

“I wish there were fireworks,” you said. Bakugou chuckled. He removed his arm from your grip.

“Here. How’s this?”

Bakugou started to create mini-explosions in the palms of his hands, resembling fireworks. You stared at the beautiful sparks. Your smile was contagious. You looked up at him but he was already looking at you. You felt your face turn hot.

“So how many more pages until I’m allowed to kiss you?” blurted out Bakugou. You flinched. The burning in your cheeks grew stronger. You smiled.

“None.”

You grabbed the collar of Bakugou’s shirt and pulled him towards you. You crashed your lips together. He gently cupped your face as he held you close. The way he kissed you was beyond anything you could have ever imagined. His heart was beating out of his chest too. He was looking forward to seeing you in person just as much as you were, maybe more.

You looked at Bakugou. His face flushed pink, a cheeky smile from ear to ear. He wrapped his arm around you.

“Wait I have something for you,” you remembered, “I don’t really know how these work but I thought you could use it too.”

You had handed Bakugou a book, similar to the one he had left for you.

“I just think we deserve another volume,” you grinned. Bakugou kissed the top of your head, taking the book.

“I think so too.”

~

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. You stretched and rubbed your eyes. Then you remembered.

“Was I really there?” you mumbled. You tried to orient yourself, still slowly waking up. You reached for the manga that sat on the other side of your couch. You took a deep breath opening it up.

The pages were no longer blank. They instead were filled with perfectly detailed drawings of you and Katsuki Bakugou, following the storyline you had just experienced. You wiped the stray tear from your eye and brought the book to your chest.

“Until next time, Katsuki Bakugou.”

•

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @roesaurus @evivn1 @astrooliver @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl ]

[raibebe]

Birthday Girl

Genre: Smut Words: 6.030 Pairing: Mingyu x Wonwoo x female reader poly relationship Warnings: Meanie/Wongyu (member x member elements, y‘all have been warned), double penetration, dom/sub undertones (subspace?), daddy kink, slight degradation

A/N: This was originally written as a birthday present for @min-inu​ almost a month ago late at night in her dm’s because that’s apparently the only way for me to write Seventeen smut and today I present you the cleaned up and extended version of what I originally wrote at 1am. This is somewhat of a sequel to Triple Threat. No need to read it though, it‘s also basically PwP but set in the same universe, so if you enjoy these dynamics, give it a read. This has somewhat more of a plot though... I have no idea if this is actually possible like this, but this is fiction and I tried to make it realistic to an extent.

Today was your birthday and you probably hadn’t been this excited about this day since you had been around ten years old. The day had already begun great: The sun’s rays that had tickled your nose had woken you up in the arms of one of your boyfriends that he had sneaked around you and below the big shirt that you had most definitely stolen from Mingyu. Wonwoo had his chest pressed against your back where you could feel the even rhythm of his breaths, indicating that the sunlight wasn’t bothering his sleep in the slightest. Carefully squirming out of his hold, you closed the curtains so he could get another couple of minutes of sleep before you slipped into the kitchen where a small breakfast with a little note written in the messy handwriting of your other boyfriend was already waiting for you. You smiled and quickly read over his saccharine words before eating the fluffy pancakes he had made.

After you had finished the delicious yet a little cold meal and put the dishes in the sink, you quickly scribbled a little heart and a ‘thank you’ on the little paper, sticking it to the fridge. After taking a look at the big clock in your living room, you decided that you still had enough time for a shower before you had to leave for your only class of the day and your shift at work. Because it was your birthday after all, you not only treated yourself to a scorching hot shower but also rubbed some expensive body lotion into your skin before getting dressed in a simple outfit. Nothing of the noise that you had made had seemed to have bothered the still sleeping Wonwoo who instead of you was now hugging your pillow tightly. Smiling you pressed a kiss to his forehead, making him wrinkle his nose adorably before mumbling something incoherent and burying his face deeper into the pillows. Committing the sight to your brain, you quickly gathered your things and softly closed the apartment’s door to go about your day.

Once your class was over, you had your shift at work and after that your parents would treat you for dinner. But what really made you excited was that you got to spend the late evening with your boyfriends who had promised that they both would be at home and didn’t need to finish any essays or needed to study for exams. It had been a while since all three of you had spent time like this and you were basically buzzing with excitement during dinner. When your parents had commented on it, you just said that your flatmates had planned a movie night with your favorite movies for you. To them that was all that Mingyu and Wonwoo were to you because how should you explain to your parents that you had two boyfriends that were also dating each other.

After you had parted ways with your parents before the restaurant, a beautiful new bracelet shining in the low lights of the taxi you took home, you sent a quick text to the group chat with your boyfriends, telling them you were on your way home. As always Mingyu was quick to reply: Be safe on your way back home, darling. We missed you today ❤ You smiled at the message that illuminated your screen, excitement bubbling in your chest. With a bounce in your step, you quickly walked up the stairs to the door of your apartment when you had arrived, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. “I’m back,” you spoke before your breath was taken away from you. The lights in the apartment were off, the only light coming from what must be hundreds of candles stacked on the furniture and the floor.

Giggling happily, you shrugged off your shoes and coat before you followed the line of candles that first lead you into the kitchen where another note similar to the one from this morning was waiting for you. ‘The first present’, it read. Smiling you opened the silky red ribbon that held the lid of the dark box closed that the note was stuck onto. Beneath a layer of dark red packaging tissue there was a beautiful black negligee made of pretty lace and soft satin with matching lace panties. In awe at the present, you carefully picked it up and felt the soft fabric. You were sure Mingyu had thought of this. While Wonwoo always enjoyed seeing you and Mingyu in pretty clothing, he didn’t quite have the eye for picking these kinds of stuff himself. Your heartbeat picked up in pace when you quickly got rid of your clothes and slipped into the soft dress. It fit you perfectly. Smiling, you traced over the little swirls and blossoms that adored the skirt of the dress before you followed the line of candles into the living room.

On the little table in front of the couch, two more packages and another note were waiting for you alongside a single red rose that was sitting inside a delicate vase. That seemed more like a Wonwoo thing. The little note read: ‘You look gorgeous in that dress.’ And you couldn’t help but blush. Carefully you opened the first, smaller package that seemed to be wrapped by the store in a light blush colored paper, revealing the expensive perfume you had eyed over the past couple of weeks. An excited squeal left your lips as you fumbled to spray a little on your neck and wrists, the flowery scent mixing beautifully with your own natural one.

The last package was just a little smaller than the one you had received in the kitchen but was packaged in a similar way. Carefully you opened the box to find a pair of black lace thigh highs that you also quickly slid onto your legs, making them appear longer than they were. Just wearing this sexy lingerie that your boyfriends had picked, made arousal course through your body and you couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom where you suspected them to be hiding.

When you followed the trail of candles to the door of your shared bedroom, you quickly decided to slip away into the bathroom for a second to apply the dark red lipstick you had gotten yourself as an early birthday present earlier this week to complete the sultry look. Smiling at your reflection, you quickly made your way back to the bedroom, you probably had kept them waiting long enough.

The lights in the bedroom were also off except for the bedside lamp, a cloth draped over it to soften the light, and a couple of fairy lights that you had hung when you first moved in but never really turned on. Your boyfriends both sat on the bed, only wearing tight boxers that left next to nothing to your imagination. “Welcome home beautiful,” Wonwoo spoke up first, getting up from where he had been leaning against the headboard and taking your hand before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Happy birthday,” he whispered before Mingyu took his place and kissed your other cheek. “You look absolutely stunning,” the taller breathed, playfully spinning you around once, “Happy birthday, love.”

You felt your face heat up from their compliments and from how their eyes raked over your body. “Did you like your presents?” Mingyu eagerly asked, trailing his fingers over the skirt of the negligee. “I love them,” you admitted, smiling up at both of them, “Thank you so much.” Chuckling, Wonwoo pulled you along to the bed, encouraging you to sit on his lap when he leaned to sit against the headboard. “But this isn’t everything, princess,” he smiled, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands teasing the skin of your thighs, “Tonight is going to be all about you.” “Let us make you feel good,” Mingyu breathed, kneeling next to you on the mattress, his eyes dark with lust. A soft mewl left your lips and you could feel yourself getting more and more turned on from the arousal that seemed to ooze off of your boyfriends. “Will you let us, princess?” Wonwoo breathed, his deep voice dropping another octave when he gently cupped your face to turn it towards him again. “Please,” You whimpered, letting your eyes flutter closed when Wonwoo claimed your lips in a deep kiss.

It wasn’t long before you felt his tongue tracing your lips and you eagerly opened them to deepen the kiss even further, pressing your body against his where you could feel his growing arousal against your body while making the soft fabric of your dress rub against your sensitive nipples, making you gasp into the kiss. It wasn’t often that he dropped his usually dominant behavior and let you just do as you please and you took full advantage of it, basking in the way you could touch him and bury your hands in his dark hair to mess it up. Soon you felt another pair of hands on your body, gently exploring your curves before settling on your waist and a strong chest pressed to your back. Usually Mingyu would whine about not getting attention by now, but he stayed quiet and instead busied himself with pressing open mouthed kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and jawline, gently sucking and biting on the skin until it bruised, leaving marks just high enough that they would peek out from beneath your collar, making more and more gasps leave your lips that Wonwoo eagerly swallowed.

After a while you felt Mingyu’s big hands sneak beneath the hem of the negligee and your skin almost burned where he was touching you now, pressing you back against him, making you feel his already hard cock. “Feel what you’re doing to me, princess?” He rasped while shamelessly rutting against the swell of your ass, “You look so hot like this.” The moan that left your lips forced you to part from Wonwoo who smirked at you before angling his hips up, so his clothed erection could brush against your core, making you arch your back and another moan leave your lips. “You’re driving us crazy like this, princess,” he spoke softly.

“What do you want princess?” Mingyu asked, his breath hot against your ear. “Touch me please,” you whimpered before clashing your mouths together. The angle wasn’t ideal but that wasn’t stopping you from kissing him like your life depended on it. You felt Wonwoo’s chuckle from where you had your hands braced against his chest more than you actually heard it. “My needy babies,” he chuckled, sounding so fond of you two. His fingers started roaming your form as well, teasing your nipples through the thin fabric before he lowered the fabric just enough so he could wrap his lips around one of them, tearing a moan from your lips. Subconsciously you started grinding your hips against Wonwoo’s erection, desperate for some friction on your neglected core, making him growl and release your perky nipple with a lewd sound. “Touch her Mingyu,” he ordered, eyes dark and fingers gripping your thighs to force them open just a little bit wider.

Eager to please, the younger slipped a hand between your legs, teasing your clit through your panties. “You’re already so wet, princess.” “I need you, please,” you whimpered, grinding down against his palm and throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder. “Don’t tease her, be good Mingyu,” Wonwoo cut in when the other kept slowly pressing the heel of his palm against your clit, making you work for the sweet friction you desperately needed. Following the elder’s orders, Mingyu quickly slipped his fingers inside your panties, letting them drag through your folds. “You’re so wet, fuck,” he cursed but before you could respond, he slipped one of his thick fingers inside you, making any words you wanted to say turn into a drawn out moan. “So pretty,” Wonwoo praised you while Mingyu stretched you around his finger, quickly adding another one and curling them to find your sweet spot, making you moan and writhe in his hold.

“What do you want, princess?” Wonwoo moaned as he palmed his own erection to take some of the edge off. “Need you inside me,” you breathed, trying to even out your shaking voice. “Which one of us?” Mingyu asked, slowing his hand down, so you could form a proper sentence. “Both of you,” you whined. “Baby...” Wonwoo soothed you, carding a hand through your hair. You had tried taking both of them at the same time once before but it hadn’t worked out and it had just made you so frustrated with your own body. “Please Wonwoo,” you begged, “I know I can, please, please, please.” “Ssssh, baby,” he soothed, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “Everything for our princess tonight,” he decided, “Let’s get you out of these panties, hm?” You eagerly nodded, whimpering when Mingyu pulled his fingers from you, so you could slip the soaked fabric down your legs.

When you turned back to the bed, Wonwoo had Mingyu pinned underneath him, kissing the younger hard while rutting their hips together. “Be good for her,” Wonwoo whispered to the taller, finally pulling the dark boxers off him, making his cock spring free, slapping wetly against his toned stomach. “He’s all yours, princess,” he smirked, playfully slapping your ass before climbing off a panting Mingyu who had an adorably crooked grin on his face. Licking your lips, you took Wonwoo’s place, placing your hands on Mingyu’s strong chest and ground your now bare core against his cock, coating him in your juices. “Please,” Mingyu whimpered beneath you, grinding your hips together like two horny teenagers. Smiling, you raised yourself up and grabbed his cock by the base to line him up with your entrance before sinking down on him in one smooth movement, making you both moan loudly.

You slowly circled your hips, getting used to his length inside you, filling you up just right but you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to truly be filled to the brim with both of your boyfriend’s cocks. Mingyu’s strong hands on your hips tore you from your thoughts when he helped you to set a rhythm as you bounced up and down on his dick, the sounds of your moans and the slick slide of him inside you filling the air. “You feel so good, fuck,” he cursed, pulling you down so he could kiss you while fucking up into your tight heat with sharp snaps of his hips. You lost yourself in Mingyu and the way he stopped his harsh pace to bury himself as deep as it was possible to grind inside you, pressing into your walls just how you liked it, making the pleasure slowly build more and more inside you. It could have been just minutes or hours, you weren’t sure but you quickly felt your orgasm approach, reminding you that this wasn’t how you wanted to cum tonight. “Wonwoo,” you whimpered, straightening up again to turn to where he was sitting, slowly stroking his cock while watching you and Mingyu from dark and hooded eyes. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself, princess,” he grinned. “Need you as well,” you whined, making grabby hands towards him. “I know you do baby,” he rasped, grabbing the lube that he had already prepared and positioned himself behind you. “Lean forward for me,” he breathed, pressing a hand down between your shoulder blades. You easily followed his wish, folding yourself on top of Mingyu’s chest and catching his parted lips in a heated kiss.

“Relax for me princess,” Wonwoo rasped before you felt a lubed up finger massage where you and Mingyu were connected, coating everything in an obscene amount of lube and forcing little moans and whimpers from the younger who did his best to force his hips to stay still. Chuckling Wonwoo slapped the inside of Mingyu’s thigh when he snapped his hips up after Wonwoo had teased the base of his cock. “Stay still, puppy,” he scolded. “Not fair,” Mingyu pouted, making you chuckle before kissing his pursed lips chastely.   “Tell me if it’s of much,” Wonwoo spoke after he deemed your entrance lubed up and you relaxed enough to press one of his lubed up fingers inside you alongside Mingyu’s cock. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant yet but you knew that this wasn’t all. When Wonwoo began to pump his finger, you desperately clung to Mingyu, distracting yourself with messy kisses. By the time Wonwoo had worked a second finger in and began scissoring them, the stretch became more painful and you whimpered into Mingyu’s mouth. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he soothed you, gently biting the skin of your neck and fondling your boobs to distract you. The longer Wonwoo stretched you, the less it hurt and the more pleasure began to build inside you again only to be brought back down when he introduced yet another finger. Meanwhile Mingyu did his best to make you relax, canting his hips up so your clit could rub against his pubic bone, the sparks of pleasure numbing the pain from being stretched. “Please Wonwoo,” you begged after a while when the pain had made way for pleasure yet again, “I can take you.”

“Not yet baby,” he soothed, rubbing your back with his free hand, “I want this to be good for you.” You let out a frustrated groan and started to grind back onto his fingers to prove your point. “Fuck, baby,” Mingyu cursed, the grip he still had on your hips tightening, “You’re driving me insane like this.” “No coming yet, puppy,” Wonwoo‘s harsh voice cut in, grabbing the base of the younger‘s dick tightly to starve off his orgasm, making him thrash beneath you, a drawn out whine leaving his swollen lips, his eyes screwed shut. “Please Wonwoo,” you gasped, throwing him a pleading look over your shoulder.

“Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, princess,” he whispered this time, pressing a kiss to your spine before pulling his fingers out, making you whimper. You held your breath when you heard the telltale sound of Wonwoo slicking up his cock before you felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against your entrance before it gave away, stretching you almost impossibly wide, knocking all air from your lungs. When he was finally bottoming out after what felt like hours all three of you let out a deep breath. “Fuck you’re so tight,” Mingyu groaned, gripping the sheets tightly to stop himself from bucking up into the tight heat engulfing his cock. “You feel so good princess,” Wonwoo agreed breathily, the grip he had on your hips almost bruising. “Please move,” you softly spoke when the initial pain had bled into a low throbbing, making you head dizzy.

“Anything for you princess,” Wonwoo promised and gently started rocking his hips, tearing loud moans from Mingyu and you. “F-feels so good, so full,” you blabbered, not even sure if you were even forming coherent sentences anymore. Every thought was wiped from your brain when Mingyu and Wonwoo found a rhythm and both thrust into you, their cocks filling you and pressing deliciously into your walls and into your sweet spot. It wasn’t long that the room was filled with your moans and whines forming a symphony with your boyfriend’s low groans and the sound of skin meeting skin and the obscene squelching sounds from the amount of lube Wonwoo had used.

“I’m not going to last, fuck,” Mingyu cursed, wrapping his arms around you and thrusting up into you hard, his hips losing his rhythm. “Not yet puppy, let her cum first,” Wonwoo spoke through gritted teeth and you could tell that he was fighting back his orgasm as well from how hard he was gripping you. “Don’t hold back please,” you begged,” Want you to fill me up please.” Another curse left Mingyu’s kiss swollen lips and he bucked his hips up a couple of more times before he pressed into you as far as he humanly could, nailing your sweet spot as his orgasm crashed over him. When you felt his cock twitch inside you, painting your insides white, you couldn’t hold off anymore as well, letting your orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolled back while your body completely locked up before you shook in Mingyu’s hold from the force of it. The rhythmic clenching around his cock tipped Wonwoo over the edge as well, his groan resonating deep in his chest as he came inside you as well.

For a while all three of you just laid there, trying to catch your breath, basking in the presence of each other. You could feel the exhaustion settling inside you, finally realizing the strain it had taken on your body to have both of your boyfriends inside you. “Fuck, we really made it work,” Mingyu giggled and broke the silence, high on his post orgasmic bliss. Wonwoo just laughed hoarsely before slowly pulling his softening cock out of you, making you hiss when you felt what must be a mixture of your boyfriend’s cum and lube trickle down your thigh. There was no way you were leaving the bed tomorrow, you already felt impossibly sore but sated and proud at the same time. “Fuck,” Wonwoo cursed, his eyes fixed to where Mingyu was still settled deep inside you, his cock and pelvis smeared with cum and lube. He slowly reached out to run his fingers through the slippery mess, making Mingyu whimper in overstimulation when he teased his shaft. “Wonwoo,” he gasped, his hips twitching to escape the touch, tearing a high pitched sound from your throat. The elder just giggled and retreated his teasing hand. “I just can’t help myself when you look like that.” You didn’t have the strength in you to roll your eyes at Wonwoo and his territorial kink for seeing Mingyu and you covered in his cum.

“How are you feeling, beautiful?” Mingyu gently asked, smoothing down your hair. “You did so well.” “I feel messy,” you slurred against the skin of his neck, breathing in his calming scent. “How about a bath, angel?” he whispered before pressing a kiss into your hair, swiping it back from where it had stuck to your forehead. “I don’t think I can move.” “Not a problem when you have a strong boyfriend like me,” Mingyu laughed. “I’ll fall asleep in the bathtub and drown,” you groaned when his by now soft cock slipped from your core from his laughing, and a mixture of cum and lube followed. “How about a quick shower for you two then?” Wonwoo interrupted, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. “You two can clean yourselves up and I’ll take care of the bed.” “Don’t wanna,” you pouted even though Wonwoo couldn’t see it. “I can clean you up but you’ll regret it in the morning, angel,” he spoke, pressing kisses to your spine while massaging your lower back where your negligee had ridden up. “Don’t care,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s chest, mind already disappearing into the world of dreams. “I don’t want to hear any complaining tomorrow,” Wonwoo sighed before he pressed a final kiss right between your shoulderblades and slipped out of the room.

“Let’s get you out of this as well, angel,” Mingyu softly spoke, trailing his fingers over the fabric of your dress. After making an affirmative noise you let him gently roll you off of him on the mattress to pull first the negligee off your torso and then your thigh highs off your legs, leaving kisses on every inch of skin he uncovered, making you giggle. “I love you,” you whispered, making grabby hands at him so he would come up to kiss you. Grinning brighter than the sun itself, he granted you your wish, lazily letting his tongue play against yours. You contently sighed, letting his body press you into the soft mattress.

When you heard the door fall into its lock again, you gently broke the kiss, smiling brightly when Mingyu pressed a last kiss to your forehead before he climbed off the bed to clean himself up, letting Wonwoo take his place between your legs. He quickly got rid of most of the mess with the cloth he had wetted with warm water, soothing you with little kisses to your thighs and reassuring words. “You did so well, baby,” he praised when he threw the cloth somewhere into the room, his eyes full of love and adoration. “I told you I could take you both.” “I apologize for ever doubting you were anything else than perfect for us, babygirl.” “Kiss me and I’ll forgive you,” you returned playfully. “If that’s all it takes,” Wonwoo grinned before kissing his way up from your thighs, over your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, along your neck where he paid special attention to the bruises Mingyu had sucked into your skin before he captured your parted lips in a deep kiss, wasting no time to lick into your mouth. This kiss was nothing like what you had shared with Mingyu before. Wonwoo kissed you with so much passion, gently biting your lower lip, a smirk building on his lips when a moan slipped past yours. “Wonwoo,” you gasped his name when he started to place open mouthed kisses along your neck, making you shiver. He just hummed deep in his chest, slowly grinding his hips down.

“You’re hard again,” you gasped, feeling his length drag over your soft skin. “It’s all your fault,” he scolded, biting down on your collarbone. “You look so pretty when you’re fucked out, baby. And it’s your birthday. I can’t just call it quit after one little orgasm, babygirl. You deserve more, don’t you think?” To accentuate his words, he sneaked one of his hands between your bodies, cupping your core. Another whimper fell from your lips and your legs instinctively fell open further to give your boyfriend more access. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit, making you mewl. “Still sensitive,” you choked out, but knew better than to shy away from his touch. Your head already started to swim from his words, spoken sweetly like the stickiest honey, a dangerous heat starting to pool between your legs. “I know my baby can take it,” Wonwoo rasped when he moved his fingers so he could put pressure on your clit in earnest. Still overly sensitive, your legs twitched close but he had anticipated it and gripped one of your thighs in a tight grip, forcing you to keep them open. “Remind me of your colors, baby.” “Green for good, yellow to slow down and red to stop,” you choked out, eyes screwed shut. “What color are you now?” “I’m green, daddy.”

“Such a good girl,” Wonwoo growled, suddenly slipping a finger into your heat which was both too much and exactly what you needed. “Mingyu, help me out and hold her thighs,” he ordered when you had started to thrash in his hold after he had slowly started to pump his finger inside you, just barely grazing your sweet spot to not overwhelm you. At the mention of Mingyu’s name, your eyes snapped open. You hadn’t even heard your tall boyfriend coming back into the bedroom. Your eyes wandered down from his sunkissed pecs and his subtle abs to his cock that already had started to fill out again. The sight made a whimper slip past your lips. “Like what you see, baby?” He teased when he kneeled next to you, gripping your thighs tightly to spread them for Wonwoo who groaned at the sight of his finger disappearing inside you over and over again. “First you don’t even notice me and now you’re basically drooling for my cock. You are so greedy, baby.”

You didn’t have it in you to deny his words, the words only intensifying the cloud that began to form in your head, reducing you to a needy mess. A mewl left your lips instead and you tried to close your legs again when Wonwoo suddenly pushed two more fingers inside you, pistoning them right into your sweet spot. “Mingyu asked you a question baby. You should answer him,” Wonwoo scolded you, his other hand coming to rub little figure eights into your clit. Had he really asked a question? You couldn’t remember. A helpless moan left your throat instead of an answer and you pressed your face into the pillow to muffle the sounds. The pricking pain from where Mingyu had dug his nails into the tender flesh of your thighs brought you back for a bit. You knew you had to answer them. “I, I don’t know,” you sobbed, feeling tears clinging to your lashes, “I don’t remember, daddy please.”

“Is that all your mouth is good for? Begging and talking nonsense?” Wonwoo growled, crooking his fingers inside you to massage your sweet spot, making more words spill from your lips and at this point you didn’t even know if you made sense anymore. All you could focus on was the pleasure building inside you and the obscene squelching noises that your core made whenever Wonwoo dove his fingers back into you. In the back of your mind you wondered if you had ever been this wet or this far gone into what must be subspace.

“Mingyu, stuff her mouth, let’s see if it’s good for literally anything else, I can’t listen to her nonsense anymore,” Wonwoo scoffed, his words harsh but breathless from how he was rutting against the mattress to relive some of the pressure on his cock that already was leaking precum and turning an angry red shade from neglect. Mingyu eagerly followed his orders, using his height to his advantage so he could still hold your thighs open while dragging the tip of his hard length over your lips and cheeks, smearing them with precum. “Remember to tap my leg three times for me to stop,” he gently said and you weakly nodded before letting your mouth fall open. “Such a good and obedient girl,” he purred before pushing his hips down, engulfing his cock in the warm and wet heat of your mouth, making him groan and you mewl from feeling the familiar weight on your tongue.  Like the gentleman Mingyu was, he let you adjust for a bit, just gently grinding his hips before he squeezed your thighs tighter and buried himself deep in your throat, a raw moan spilling past his lips. After some seconds he pulled out again to let you heave a couple of breaths. Seeing the shiny head of his cock connected with your lips by a string of spit, made one or maybe both of your boyfriends groan and before you had the chance to even whine about the absence of cock in your mouth, Mingyu thrust his hips again, effectively muffling any sounds you could try to make.

You could just lie there and take whatever your boyfriend’s gave you and you couldn’t be any happier about it even though tears where staining your cheeks and your throat was hurting from how Mingyu used it. Your lungs where burning with the lack of oxygen but all that was just fueling the fire in your core where Wonwoo was pistoning his fingers inside you expertly. You could feel your orgasm approach you at lightning speed but Wonwoo hadn’t given you permission to cum yet, so you tried your best to fight it back down, your thighs shaking with the effort. “Oh look how good she’s trying to be,” Wonwoo cooed, slipping his fingers from your core to watch it clench around nothing, making you mewl around Mingyu’s cock, who in turn shakily lost his rhythm, a curse leaving his lips. “You want to cum baby?” The older asked, teasing your clit with his drenched fingers, the slide oh so slippery from how wet you were. You could just whine around Mingyu’s cock again, flexing your hips to try to grind against Wonwoo.

“Then cum baby, make a mess for me.” That was all it took for your orgasm to crash over you. Luckily Mingyu had pulled out, so you could scream in pleasure as your whole body went taught, your back arching off the bed as white hot pleasure coursed through your veins. You could feel your core twitching and hot liquid drenched Wonwoo and the sheets below you as your lower body shook from the force of your orgasm, your core pulsating with waves of pleasure, gushing out more liquid. “Fuck baby,” you heard one of your boyfriends curse and just moments later you felt the telltale warmth of drops of cum covering your chest along with a guttural moan. Your core was still throbbing when you opened your eyes again, your chest heaving, to see Wonwoo quickly jerking his cock, his eyes still fixated to your core. Only seconds later, he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut, when his cock spurted out ropes of white cum, painting the space between your spread thighs.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, fuck,” Mingyu chuckled, shakily climbing off of you to see the mess you had made for himself. “I didn’t know you could do that.” You wanted to tell him that you hadn’t known either but after your orgasm, the fog in your brain had only intensified and your lids felt like they had heavy weights glued onto them, forcing them shut. “Hey, angel,” you heard Mingyu speak through the fog, his big hands gently cupped your face and his thumbs rubbed away the tears that had stained your cheeks. “I’m green,” you managed to slur, turning your body towards his warmth. “You did so well,” he praised, kissing your forehead, “But I need you to come back to me, okay? Take your time but don’t fall asleep on me, okay?” You just hummed, curling your body around his. “Hey, angel. I need to pick you up so we can change the sheets okay? And I’ll clean you up, alright?” You hummed again, managing to put your arms around his neck.

What happened next was lost in the haze of your mind. You knew that Mingyu had lifted you from the bed and that he had carried you somewhere with a lot more light, making bright colors dance behind your closed lids. The next thing your felt was a cooling spray of water before you were wrapped up in a soft fabric that had the scent of something purely Mingyu. You happily buried your nose in the fabric and hummed in content.

“Open your eyes, princess,” you heard another voice speak to you when you felt your back meet the softness of your bed. “For me, please,” the voice repeated and a gentle kiss was pressed to each of your closed eyelids. Scrunching your nose, you tried to fight the weight keeping your eyes closed and when you finally managed to open them again, you were met with Wonwoo’s beautiful amber eyes that shone with love and adoration in the low light of your bedroom. “I’m so proud of you my love,” he smiled before he kissed your forehead. “Can we cuddle?” You asked in a small voice. “Of course, angel,” Mingyu spoke from your other side, a bottle of water in his hands. “As soon as you finish this for us.”

You nodded and drowned the bottle, the cold water doing wonders on your sore throat. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to either sit or speak tomorrow but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. “Happy birthday baby,” Wonwoo kissed you when he rejoined Mingyu and you after discarding of the ruined bedsheets, your cheeks turning pink when you realized what had happened. “I love you two so much,” you confessed, smiling as you were squished between both of them, feeling warm and safe beneath the fresh sheets.

[msotherworldly]

A Vampire’s Code

Title: A Vampire’s Code

Fiction Type: Original Fiction

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death

Prompt: “You have no proof.”

“You have no proof.” I trembled as they surrounded me, pale faces pressing in like dead masks. Their red cloaks rippled, and several hands reached for me. “I’m young, right? Nobody taught me the rules. That has to count for something!”

“That is true.” A woman stepped forward. She had a round face; she lifted a pudgy, icy hand to brush aside a strand of blonde hair. She resembled one of those Victorian paintings, but for the crimson eyes. “Nevertheless, you have committed a crime. You have killed an innocent.”

“But what does that mean? Aren’t we supposed to eat? I barely know what I am!”

“You know what you are.” She held up a hand. The others stopped their advance.

“Yeah, I’m a Vampire.” I shrugged. “But what does that mean? Will holy water burn me? Will I burst into flame if I enter a church? Is the sun deadly? Is garlic?”

“Who changed you?”

“I thought he was a mugger. I was walking home from my friend’s. We’d been jamming in his garage.”

A man at the woman’s shoulder frowned. Like paper, his face seemed to crumple in on itself. “What is this ‘jamming’ you refer to? Do you mean canning jam?”

The corners of the woman’s red lips twitched. “No, he’s in a band.”

“That’s an overstatement.” I laughed. “We’re not very good. But he launched himself at me, this guy, and then he bit me. Took all my cash too, so I figured it was a robbery. I thought he was crazy.”

The woman nodded.

“I didn’t even make it home. I ran into the park, and just...I fell down the side. Into the ravine. I don’t know how long I lied there. But when I came to, it was night. And when I saw Mrs. Lowe, it was automatic. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until she was limp in my arms.”

“She is an innocent.” The man trembled. “He has had a taste-”

“He’s had no teacher. No guidance. No chance.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.” I looked between them. “I am sorry I killed her. She was always kind to me. When I was a kid, that is.”

“There will be a penalty for your actions.” The woman sighed. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “But we will not destroy you.”

“But he-”

The woman shook her head. “This will appease them.”

I studied her. My brows knitted. “You mean...you don’t think I should be punished? It’s for show?”

“We have to set a certain standard, or there will be chaos. But yes, that is correct. It’s a formality. And when I explain the mitigating circumstances, many will see reason.”

A chill shot up my spine. Who knew Vampires could be cold. I scanned the stony faces. “Many...but not all.”

“There will be those who want to kill you.” She pulled her hood up. “The Vampires of this city are different. There are rules. One can’t kill as they please. In other towns, it’s the same as it’s always been—like animals, they feast on people with no discernment, no respect for human life, no empathy for their former selves.

    “When a Vampire acquires a taste for freedom, for killing, we encourage him to leave. You can be a savage in other cities, but not here. Many laugh at our ways, but it’s a way of life which appeals to many of the brood. And one, I believe, which is worth preserving.”

I nodded. “I can understand that. My girlfriend...she would still be human. Even though there are Vampires here, she would be safe?”

The man’s face darkened. “No one is ever safe when there are Vampires around. Accidents happen. Rules are broken. And then we’re called in.”

I looked around. I hadn’t given much thought to my surroundings...but then, there was little to look at. A single light shone on me, and the walls and floors were concrete. If I scanned the corners of the ceiling, I could make out a cobweb and the spider which nested in it’s centre.

“Will somebody teach me? I mean, what things are actually...dangerous? What are all the rules? Can I...still see my friends? Can I see Emma?”

“If you continue to see Emma, she will learn the truth.” The woman grimaced. “And if she learns the truth, you will have two choices.”

I’d read enough horror novels to guess what came next: “I’ll have to kill her or change her. And option number three is-”

“To never see her again.” She nodded. “That is how it must be. I’m sure you can understand. You’ll be permitted to keep a job, to see your friends as often as is necessary to maintain the facade. But you’ll have to find a night shift. I don’t know about holy water, but the sun will kill you.”

“Will I get resistance to the sun with time?”

“No, that’s a myth. One which became popular after Anne Rice started writing, I think. It will always be your enemy.”

“I guess...I’ll go home then.”

“One minute.” The woman whispered to the others. They argued under their breath. The man pointed at me twice. Then he scowled, and bowed. The rest nodded. They shuffled from the room, flicking up their large hoods. They pooled out of the door like a river of-

My hand flew to my throat. I swallowed, and it ached. My tongue salivated, as dry as paper.

The woman shut the door. “We have to discuss your punishment. It’s lucky you didn’t attack a child. Many Vampires are forgiven for killing the elderly. That is, they are punished but not destroyed. It is my understanding that Mrs. Lowe had cancer, and that she was in considerable pain. Of course, you didn’t know this, but certain negotiations can be made.”

“Are you going to teach me?”

She smiled. “No, but I can share some of the...nuances with you. If a human voices aloud the desire to die, it becomes the right of the Vampire to take that person’s life. However, the desire has to be both in earnest and justified. Teens with depression, or who are blowing off steam, are off limits. I learned too late that our wording of that law was too loose.”

“I’d never kill a kid! Not intentionally.”

“I believe you.” She folded her hands. “But if you meet someone with a terrible disease, whether it be an incurable tumour or Lou Gerig’s, and you can prove they wished to die...we consider it merciful, a form of assisted suicide. Death by Vampire is not painful. Victims sink into a blissful sleep before they die. Some survivors of attacks have even claimed it feels good.”

“But what is my punishment?”

“It won’t be easy. There is a girl of seventeen who has come to our attention. Claire Goodall.”

“Hey, I know her. She’s just a couple years younger. She was in the school band. Really big into...Vampires and stuff.”

“She suspects our existence. She’s put an ad out for a Vampire to change her.”

“And you want me to persuade her not to, right? Because I’m the only one who can?”

“No.” Her eyes iced over. Her voice was hard. “You must change her. Even if she doesn’t really want to join the brood. I don’t condone the deaths of the young, but she will be executed if she is not brought over. She knows too much.”

“Couldn’t we give her another year or two? Seventeen is young. And becoming a Vampire is a bit more permanent than marriage.”

“It’s less permanent than death.” She turned away. “We have no other option. Many will kill her. Others will just bite her. But you’re her age. You can do it delicately.”

I nodded. “I guess.”

“She invited this on herself. You aren’t wrong to pity her. But she is responsible for her own fate. And when she is a Vampire, she will need a tutor.”

“Not me? I know jack shit.”

“You will be her friend. A mentor will be sent to you. Invite the girl to live with you, if you can, that you might ease the transition for one another.”

Emma will love that.

“I’ll try.”

What do I even tell Emma? What if she doesn’t want to be a Vampire? How do I know to tell her or not?

But if I don’t-

“You must go now. The others are growing agitated.” She led me outside. They lined the hallways, forming rows on each side. Their faces were expressionless, nearly identically beautiful, as I passed. When we emerged into a parking lot, I turned to thank the woman.

She was gone. I tugged on the door; it was locked. I pelted away, planning how I might change Claire’s existence irreparably, but gently.

[hercleverboy]

dinner dates and twilight books

spencer reid x reader 

summary ↠ spencer finally confides in the reader about what happened to maeve.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ a small argument.

word count ↠ 2.3k

“some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. from what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favour fire, but if it had to perish twice. I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice, is also great. and would suffice.” — Robert Frost

Y/N looked around her as she stepped over the threshold of Spencer’s apartment. It looked how she imagined it would, brown and green colour scale and books piled high everywhere she looked. Though it was obvious he had cleaned for her, evident by the faint scent of bleach she could smell, but she didn’t let it bother her, she thought it was sweet. 

The two had been dating for 2 months now, and were yet to become an official couple. Though they’d been on as many coffee and movie dates as his job would allow with his limited free time. The prospect of their new relationship excited Y/N. She really hadn’t felt this way about someone in a long time. Spencer felt the same, so when it looked as though he was finally going to get a weekend that was uninterrupted by a case from work, he invited Y/N over for a home-cooked dinner date. 

Of course, only after he’d asked her did Spencer remember he was utterly useless at cooking, thus enlisting help from Rossi, memorising recipes of Y/N’s favourite foods. 

The door shut gently behind Spencer as he offered to take Y/N’s coat like the gentleman he was, and she handed it to him with a grateful smile and a small “Thanks.” 

“Uh, so, make yourself at home. I’ll just be in the kitchen. Can I get you a drink?” He asked, trying desperately not to show his very obvious nerves. 

“I’m alright for now, thankyou.” She smiled, and Spencer returned the gesture, before scattering off to his small kitchen to begin cooking the food he’d prepared earlier before she could notice the blush on his flustered face. 

She turned her attention back to her surroundings, and found herself walking over to his bookshelf. It went from floor to ceiling, completeley covering one of his walls, each shelf absoloutley packed with different novels. She noted the piles of books that sat next to the shelves, and giggled a little. He’d literally run out of room for his books, he had that many. 

She folded her arms in front her as she smiled at the collections. She wasn’t a massive reader, but she had read some of the classic novels she saw on his shelves. She was more so just intrigued by the vast collection he owned.

“So, just how many books do you have?” She spoke a little louder so he’d hear her from the kitchen.

“1,274.” He called back. She should’ve been surprised by his precise answer, but then again she’d come to realise that he always gave answers like that. It was one of the things she liked so much about him. Her fingertips delicately grazed the spines of some of the novels she recognised. The Merchant of Venice, Catcher in the Rye, even an original copy of Alice in Wonderland, and then of course, the Magic of Quantum Physics. Obviously.  

Spencer left the kitchen to join her, smiling as he watched her gaze in awe of his collection.

“and you’ve read all of these?” She asked, her voice showcasing her amazement. 

“Yeah, I guess I have.” He laughed at how shocked she seemed. He noted how her nose crinkled slightly and her head tilted as she read the the different titles, smiling that perfect smile when she saw one she recognised. He really liked this girl. There was something about her, something he hadn’t felt for anyone in years. Spencer already knew he wanted to keep her around for as long as he could. 

“Do you read much?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

“Sometimes, I really prefer works of fiction more than anything else, but-” She gasped, stopping herself mid-sentence. “No way.” 

“What is it ?”

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, own a copy of Twilight?” She teased, but her smile was joyous.  

 He simply shrugged his shoulders and gave her a smile. “It came up when I was on a case a few years ago, and I guess I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about. I still don’t get it.”

“You’re kidding, right? The Twilight Saga is one of my favourites. I could talk about it forever.” She sighed happily. “The first book isn’t bad, but Eclipse is easily the best-” She reached out to take the book from the shelf, but the books were so tightly pushed together in the small space that when she pulled the book out, another fell from the shelf and hit the floor with a thud. 

She laughed, and bent down to pick it up. Before she could even touch it, Spencer swooped down and grabbed it first. “Don’t touch it.” He sneered at her, holding the white hardback book tightly in his grasp. She frowned. His tone of voice was a severe contrast to the kind, warm tone he used with her just moments before.

She brushed off his harshness and gave a small smile as she apologised.  “I’m sorry, I’m awfully clumsy at times-“

“Could you not be a bit more careful?” He snapped, in a tone she hadn’t heard him use before. He looked down at the book, seemingly checking it for any scrapes. The smile dropped from her lips and she stumbled on her words, shocked. 

“It’s- it’s just a book Spencer, I’m sorry.” Was he really that upset about a book? it wasn’t like she’d done it purposely. 

With the way he looked at her, you’d think she’d stabbed him or something. 

“Just a book? You wouldn’t understand. I know you said you were clumsy but really? What if you’d damaged it?” He was practically yelling now, and Y/N could feel the tears welling in her eyes. Where had the awkward and shy boy with the pretty smile gone?

She tried to blink the tears away but instead it made one fall down her cheek.

“I’m so sorry. Thankyou for having me but I think I should leave. Sorry, again.” She apologised profusely, grabbing her jacket from the coathanger and turning to leave.

“Wait- No Y/N, wait. Don’t go. I’m sorry I snapped.” His calm voice had returned, and he gently gripped her wrist to stop her from leaving. 

She turned back to face him, and forced a smile that contrasted the tears in her eyes. “Honestly it’s fine. It was my fault, I’m so clumsy and now I’ve upset you.  I’m really sorry.” She turned again. His grip on her tightened.

“No, Y/N. I’m sorry I called you clumsy. I didn’t mean it I just-.” He paused. “Can I at least explain myself? and then if you still want to go, you can.”

She turned to face him, giving him a small nod and allowing him to pull her to sit next to him on the sofa. She placed her bag and coat down by her feet, and gently pulled her hand from his, settling both her hands on her lap.  If he hadn’t just snapped at her, Spencer would’ve been hurt that she’d pulled away, but he deserved it. 

She prepared herself to listen. Spencer placed the book down on the table and looked down at his hands as he began to speak. 

“2 years ago, I had these awful headaches. I went to numerous doctors, none of themcould seem to find anything wrong with me. Finally, I got in contact with another doctor, and with her help the headaches started to fade. Her name was Maeve, she was a geneticist. We spoke on the phone every Sunday, first just about my headaches, but once they’d gone away, we just kept talking. Slowly it began to be something more.” He smiled, like he was fondly remembering.

“She wanted to meet in person but- but Maeve had this stalker. She didn’t know who he was, but he threatened her, made her scared to leave her apartment without a disguise.” Spencer continued, telling Y/N how they’d been supposed to meet for the first time at a resteraunt, but Spencer thought her stalker was there, and so told her not to come inside for her safety.

“After she was gone, the hostess came to me with a little gift bag, saying a woman had left it for me. It was from Maeve, and in the bag was this book.” He looked at the white hardback book on his little brown coffee table. “I’d actually bought the same one for her, funnily enough.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle. Y/N was beginning to understand, but could see Spencer wasn’t finished yet.

“One day I called her and when she answered, it wasn’t her on the end of the line. The person said one word, Zugzwang. ” Spencer’s words wobbled as he spoke. 

“It’s a chess term, right? It describes the point in the game where the player realises they will inevitably be checkmated.” Y/N spoke, and Spencer seemed surprised she understood, but nodded and continued with his story nontheless. 

“That’s how I knew something was wrong, that she was in danger. The team and I, we finally figured out where her stalker, who turned out to be a woman named Diane, was holding her. I got there, and it was the first time we saw one another in person. She looked so scared I-“ He choked on his words, tears brimming in his eyes. Y/N slowly reached out to take his hand, but just before she did she looked to him, as if asking permission. He nodded, and she took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly.

Spencer was grateful for her warmth and compassion.

He took a deep breath. “I tried to talk Diane down, but I failed and she-“ He stopped before forcing himself to continue. “She shot herself in the head, killing Maeve as well.” A single tear fell from his eye and his chest heaved with shaking breaths. Y/N hesitantly pulled him into her arms in a comforting hug, but he welcomed it, wrapping his arms around her. 

“Spencer I am so sorry.” She whispered. She couldn’t imagine a pain worse than losing the person you loved.

He shook his head, pulling back from her. “It’s not your fault, and it was years ago now.” He glanced at the coffee table, reaching over to take the book from it.

He opened it to the first page, and it didn’t take a genius for Y/N to guess that it was Maeve’s writing on the first page.

 “This was all I had left of her. In the weeks after she died, I clung to this book for dear life. Even slept with it cradled to my chest.” He laughed humourlessly, as if it was a silly thing to do.

He wiped his eyes, his breathing returning to somewhat a normal pace. “I’m sorry I shouted. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. None of what I just told you excuses me mistreating you like that.” He sighed. “I want you to know it’s okay if you’d like to end this- I mean, us - now, now you know what emotional baggage I come with.” 

Y/N was quick to shake her head, which surprised him.

“Don’t apologise. I completely understand, but Spencer if you’re not ready for a relationship, I’m happy to be your friend. You’re incredible, and I’d rather have you as a friend than not in my life at all.” She smiled sadly. She’s not sure if she believed the words leaving her mouth, she really could see herself falling in love with Spencer, but if he wasn’t ready, she would bury her feelings down and survive with just his friendship. He’d become too important to her for her to lose him from her life completely. 

He frowned. “No, no it’s not like that Y/N. I loved Maeve, but that was two years ago, and whilst the pain is still there it gets less and less everyday.” He tried to explain. “Since we started dating you’ve really helped with that. I want you in my life. Today, and for a long time after that, if that’s okay with you.” He paused. “That’s actually what this whole home cooked dinner date thing was about.” He laughed nervously. “I wanted- I want to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

 “Are you’re sure you’re ready to move on, Spencer?” She whispered, unsure. She didn’t want to force him into anything, and if he wasn’t over Maeve, she didn’t want to end up hurting herself.

 “I promise I am, it still hurts at times but I know she’d want me to. Y/N, Maeve was my past,  but I think you might be my future.” He smiled.

That was all the reassurance she needed. She beamed back at him. “Then yes. I’d love to be your girlfriend.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers in a short but loving kiss. However, they were interrupted by Spencer’s fire alarms going off. Spencer jumped up at the sound. 

“Oh shit, the food!” He scampered off to the kitchen, leaving a giggling Y/N on the couch.

Sure, Spencer had some emotional baggage, and the relationship wasn’t always going to be easy, but with her love and affection, Spencer’s heart would eventually heal. They would be okay. 

The pair enjoyed a slightly burned but still nice dinner before they retreated to his couch, and cuddled next to one another, talking and laughing about nothing in particular. As their conversation died down, a frown settled on her face, and Spencer frowned back, his thumb tracing along her cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly. 

“I was just thinking, now you’ve read Twilight, I have to ask you a very important question.” She smiled, and Spencer raised his eyebrows in confusion and a bit of worry. “Are you team Edward or Jacob?”

Spencer laughed, any worry he held leaving him instantly, before delving into a ramble on how Jacob was so obviously better for Bella than Edward, which Y/N wholehartedly disagreed with. They laughed together as they continued their playful disagreement. 

Yeah, they were going to be just fine. 

[vivithefolle]

Not sure if you already talked about this. (I’m pretty sure you have) but someone seemed to notice that when the trio get into fights, Hermione’s always in the right. Even when she’s supposed to be wrong she always seems to be half right. That kind of bothers me. Especially since it’s evident in the whole Scabbers situation.

I have indeed, on Quora, so let’s move yet another answer of mine to Tumblr!

Hermione is seldom wrong in the Harry Potter books. Sometimes she makes mistakes but those mistakes are either completely swept under the rug or downright ignored.

It’s partly due to lazy writing and partly due to Rowling’s own growing bias in favour of her Author Avatar that was fuelled by Steve Kloves, the primary advocate of the Hermione Granger Is The Perfect Girl Ever line of thinking (an utterly ridiculous line of thinking mind you).

Lizo: Steve, Hermione is a character that you have said is one of your favorites. Has that made her easier to write?

Steve: Yeah, I mean, I like writing all three, but I've always loved writing Hermione. Because, I just, one, she's a tremendous character for a lot of reasons for a writer, which also is she can carry exposition in a wonderful way because you just assume she read it in a book. If I need to tell the audience something...

JKR: Absolutely right, I find that all the time in the book, if you need to tell your readers something just put it in her. There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue. One is Hermione, the other is Dumbledore. In both cases you accept, it's plausible that they have, well Dumbledore knows pretty much everything anyway, but that Hermione has read it somewhere. So, she's handy.

Now this, right here, is the exact core of the problem.

Rowling herself admits it: if she wants the readers to have information, she puts Hermione in the scene. Hermione is our primary means of exposition because, like *grits teeth* Sssssteve puts it, it’s easy to assume that she’s read about it somewhere and it makes sense.

That’s all well and good but at first, if you notice, Ron also gave us exposition about the wizarding world, mostly about its culture. He was able to recall the exact year of the Wizarding Confederation that outlawed dragon breeding in Philosopher’s Stone! He explained what were respectively a “Mudblood”, a “Squib”, and Parseltongue, Hermione doing a little exposition about the history of that last one! He was also able to identify Sirius, after being dragged into the Whomping Willow, as an Animagi!

But then Goblet of Fire happens and you can notice the first change that will exponentially grow through the books: instead of Ron, pureblood Ron, born-before-the-end-of-the-war Ron, lived-through-the-aftermath-of-the-war Ron, identifying the Dark Mark, it’s instead Hermione, muggleborn Hermione, lived-as-a-Muggle-for-most-of-her-life Hermione, has-no-idea-about-the-emotional-impact-of-the-Mark Hermione who looks terrified as the Dark Mark shoots into the sky!

And it only will get worse, by the end of the series, Hermione pretty much knows about everything the plot needs her to know, instead of having to work with things she knows but can’t always apply to the situation:

Suddenly has a deep knowledge of Magical Law (in the will of Dumbledore’s chapter, while we had Rufus Scrimgeour who could have provided it to us, or to a lesser extent, Ron could have explained how a wizarding will basically worked)

Is suddenly an expert at finding edible plants and mushrooms. Apparently books are always the goddamn answer in JKR’s world, you can literally learn anything from them

She can decipher all the Tales of Beedle the Bard (may I remind you that they were written in Runes, okay Hermione may have a few years of Ancient Runes education BUT I once tried to translate a 3k+ story I had written for fun, from French to English, which means I knew what the subtleties and intentions were, I knew which turns of phrase I had to preserve so it would make sense in the end, and it still took me two gruelling weeks to get a satisfying result!)

Has suddenly grown a sense of quick-thinking (escaping Xenophilius’ house, using the jinx to make Harry’s face weird-looking) despite it being the only remaining flaw she had at the time (remember when she turned her back on her enemy while he was still conscious just to compliment Harry, and almost died as a result, even though she had been training in the DA to learn how to fight Death Eaters?) Quick-thinking under pressure can be learned, but it takes time and a lot of work to force your brain to override its instinct - and it’s fine because we’re all human and different. But no suddenly Hermione is the Greatest Strategist Evah™ and those silly boys (who actually were the original quick-thinking ones, and one of them was established as the strategist early on) better be grateful for this literal goddess because she protects them from all harm with her superhuman brain.

Somehow knows about Quidditch stuff - she knows about a Snitch’s “memory-touch”. Why should she give all the answers? Why can’t Ron give us this particular tidbit of information?

And then when we come to something Ron actually knows, the damn narration itself goes “woah a book that Ron has read but Hermione hasn’t??? shocking!! incredible!! Ron is not dumb, somebody call the news channel”. But… is that really so surprising? We’ve never seen Hermione read wizarding fiction or even Muggle fiction. We’ve never seen Hermione with anything other than schoolbooks in her hands. Of course Ron has read books she hasn’t read since she doesn’t seem to read fiction at all!

Sorry, bit of a tangent over here.

There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue.

So, that’s one part of the problem: the fact that Rowling, after making Ron our insight into magical culture and Hermione our provider of knowledge, ended up saying “eh whatever I guess Hermione can tell us everything we gotta know because it’s more convenient for me”. Which is a decision that was not based on Hermione’s character, but simply lazy writing. Long story short, it probably went: “Could Ron explain this bit of trivia? Meh, better make Hermione say it cause she’ll have read it in a book. It’s convenient and I won’t need to bother myself with exploring Ron’s characterisation.”

(And thus completely forgetting that Ron could maybe ask his big brothers via owl and provide us with a good heap of extra advanced knowledge - Bill is supposed to have aced his NEWTs after all.)

The other part of the problem is quite simply that Hermione is more often than not, either painted as a victim by the narrative (which makes more people take her side, classic manipulation tactic), or made to be right anytime it’s about a plot point.

Hermione’s mistakes are never explicitly stated, corrected, or even pointed out as being unethical.

Hermione only gets one mistake expressedly pointed out as being a mistake: her misadventure in Polyjuice Potion. The rest of them? Even her crush on Lockhart can’t be counted as a mistake - people get crushes all the time, based solely on physical appearance, it’s not something awful or terrible (Except when it’s Ron who crushes on someone. Ron crushing on someone is absolutely forbidden, and he must be punished with much ridicule and humiliation if he thinks he can get away with not worshipping Hermione like the goddess she is. The nerve of him, really.).

Throughout the books Hermione eventually morphs into Rowling’s Powerful Angel of Vengeance, that punishes the people who dared to do something she disliked - Rita is silenced but at a very ethically dubious price; Marietta gets scarred for life because she was more loyal to her mother than to a bunch of people her friend insisted she hang out with; Umbridge is led to a very, very alarming fate that is never made clear but some people have ideas and they’re not all very kid-friendly; Ron first is “helped” without knowing it because Hermione can’t be bothered to have faith in his capabilities, then when he fails to dutifully reward her for “helping” him, she causes him bodily harm before actively bullying him for not mind-reading her interest in him; causes even more bodily harm to Ron because that’s how feminism works; etc.

Hermione’s mistakes are always justified through the plot itself (which is lazy writing).

Turning into a cat? Only affects her.

The Firebolt? Scabbers? Well, in the end, it was really sent by Sirius Black and Crookshanks really wasn’t the culprit. Therefore all the feelings that were hurt and all the trust lost are irrelevant because Hermione was right all along.

Trying to free the house-elves? Well, it’s the intent that counts, right? And we’re never told enough about house-elf lore to know whether they’re poor brainwashed victims or powerful Penate-like symbiotes who need to serve a wizard to survive?

Kidnapping Rita Skeeter, trapping her and blackmailing her? Rita may be one foul little beetle, but that’s going a bit far, isn’t it? Harry approves? Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then…? A main character can’t have a dubious morality, right?

Manipulating Harry into forming Dumbledore’s Army and forcing him to relive a traumatic event with the same woman she’s kidnapped and blackmail and that she knows he hates? In the end, it all works out for the best and Harry’s hurt feelings don’t matter since it’s all about the greater good.

Using the centaurs to get rid of Umbridge (which poses the highly distressing question of what did the centaurs do to her?), realizing that the centaurs aren’t nice little horsies that are going to gently obey her every orders like good Disney princess’ companions, my goodness could this be an opportunity for character growth - nevermind, here comes Grawp the Giant Ex Machina, saving her arse and protecting Hermione from all that scary possibility of introspection. Thanks, Grawp Ex Machina.

Trying to dissuade a highly stressed-out and irrational Harry from rescuing Sirius by telling him exactly what he needed not to hear, a.k.a. “you have a saving people-thing” which causes Harry to completely go bonkers and go save his godfather without thinking twice? Well she was right after all, it was a trap! Nevermind how mind-boggingly insenstive and inadept at dealing with someone else’s feelings she was being, she was right! That means it wasn’t Hermione’s mistake!… probably. (Geez, I’m sensing a pattern here…)

Endangering Cormac’s life (Confunding him WHILE HE’S ON HIS BROOM) to promote Ron’s success? Oh but that’s so romantic! (Yeaaaah, how romantic to display exactly how much faith you lack in your crush. Top it off with a broken neck and that’s a picture perfect first date!)

Assaulting Ron with magic and causing him even more scars than he already had? But he was being cold with her first, right? And he totally should have known she was asking him out! It’s not like her invitation was even worse than his attempt to ask her out two years earlier! Plus she’s just a teenage girl expressing her emotions, anyone who tries to find fault in this is a disgusting abusive misogynist pig! Ha!

Getting all jealous that Harry is better than her at Potions, then pretending she’s not jealous by claiming that TEH BOOK IS EVIL, HARRY, and giving him the cold shoulder too? But no, she’s right, look, Harry used Sectumsempra and he almost killed Draco, nevermind that he’s very horrified about it! Hermione was right, like she always is!

Hermione Obliviating her parents, which pulls her from the “ethically dubious” zone into the “wow okay I’m pretty sure that this counts as a violation of basic human rights” zone, makes her one of those quirky wizardfolk who have the privilege to control those simple-minded Muggles because it’s for the greater good? But nooo she’s crying about it so it’s obviously very sad and angsty and it shows her devotion to the cause!

Splinching Ron while fleeing from the Ministry? Eeeh, but he’s fine, they’ve got Dittany, he’s good as new!… blood loss? Anaemia? What’s that?

Hermione was wrong about the Deathly Hallows not existing? Um, um, that doesn’t matter, LOOK DOBBY IS DEAD AND HARRY IS BACK TO LOOKING FOR THE HORCRUXES!! Therefore Hermione was right, the Hallows weren’t important for their quest, therefore the Hallows might as well not exist, HERMIONE WAS RIGHT NO REALLY I’VE GOT RECEIPTS -

The books never forget to remind Harry and Ron of their own shortcomings and moments of weakness.

Harry’s wrath and recklessness cost Sirius his life. This is the lesson he has to learn from his entitled behaviour in OotP: actions have consequences, and the greater your responsibility, the greater the cost will be.

Ron’s envy and insecurity lead him astray; they’re used to humiliate, ridicule and torture him throughout the books. They’re supposed to teach him that he’s worth something - but how is he supposed to believe that, when nobody ever tells him he’s worth anything? When nobody ever apologizes to him? When his feelings are taken for granted over and over? When his two friends seem to discard him whenever he does one thing wrong?

Hermione is never punished. Hermione is never said to be wrong, never shown to be wrong, never called out on her behaviour. From Prisoner of Azkaban to mid-Deathly Hallows, she stays exactly the same character. She doesn’t grow up. She doesn’t learn. She doesn’t change. She has virtually no character arc.

The only time, THE ONLY TIME IN SEVEN BOOKS, the only time we have something remotely resembling a call-out of Hermione’s horrible behaviour is with this sole quote in HBP:

Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

Note how it’s about “girls” and not Hermione in particular, which implies that any girl would do what Hermione does to Ron. Thanks for the generalization, JKR, but I like to believe I’m actually a decent sort of person that doesn’t resort to petty cruelty and exploits my friends’ insecurities whenever I’m angry with them.

Hermione NEVER has to apologize. Hermione NEVER has to learn from her mistakes because she’s always presented as a victim when she really isn’t. Hermione NEVER develops into something more - she’s emotionally stuck at fourteen years old. Even less than that when you consider that her reaction to Ron’s return in Deathly Hallows is to trash him with her fists - and she was going to get her wand!! The utter psychopathic b- wanted TO THROW BIRDS AT HIM AGAIN!!! - and this reaction is an appropriate one for a four-years old girl, but certainly not for a supposedly “mature” seventeen-years old.

(Yes, because what separates a child from an adult is the ability to reign in your emotions and not succumb to your impulses. Exactly what Ron did when he left the tent (notice that he had drawn his wand, then he left before he could start hexing Harry), he left to calm himself down. Exactly what Hermione fails to do when Ron returns (she has the impulse to strike him and immediately succumbs to it, which proves to us that The Brightest Witch Of Her Age has all the maturity of a very small child).)

All of that, on top of the awful portrayal in the movies which removes all of Ron’s characteristics to stuff them into Hermione and turns her into some impossible epitome of perfection, eventually contributed to the portrayal of Hermione as the one who is always right and knows everything.

Add to it JKR’s own ridiculous bias (“Ron was quite emotionally immature compared to the other two”, yeah right I don’t see him trying to force freedom onto unwilling creatures or making Harry fly into an irrational rage with mere words but you do you, Jo) and the sexist misconception that “girls are innately more mature than boys”, and you get yourself this apparent behemoth of righteousness that was literally the sole reason why those two silly boys survived everything, and don’t you dare criticize this angel of perfection OR ELSE.

[kaypeace21]

DID theory part 3: St novels/comics/spotify list analyses

*read part 2  of DID theory-first! You’ll be lost otherwise, seriously XD. First, I’ll say -I find the ST comics/ books as canon as the st movie inspirations . I don’t consider the books/comics ‘literal canon’ (cause they contradict the show ( like Max and billy meeting a year before s2  in runaway max - but meeting as little kids in s3,  or El’s age being wrong in suspicious minds, in the d&D comic Will’s friends instead of him /Jonathan building castle byers, etc) . 

So I think we shouldn’t take it  literally - but more like the st movie lists - filled with foreshadowing/symbolism and other eastereggs (That the Duffers may have told them to add). So here’s some more (possible) alter / DID hints...

‘Suspicious minds’ novel

- Brenner  equates k*lling rabbits to h*rting kids. And he’ll hurt (kid) Kali (the bunny in the analogy) if Terry tries running away from him . I wonder if Lonnie used a similar threat against jonathan? Jon could be giving only a partial truth to why he cried for a week (about the bunny story)?

-Kali “hops” like a bunny then talks about tigers obsessively (linking her to rabbits/tigers similar to the other alters/Will/Lonnie). Terry also imagines tigers and kali says to Alice they can all be tigers together.

- one of the only male psychic experiments (who can see the future) is gay

- Terry is into lord of the rings, like Will. Has her and her boyfriend dress as sam & frodo (m/m ship). Terry calls her and her friends “the fellowship”.

-when Terry/Alice were injected with d**gs -they hallucinated rainbows.yikes.

- Alice (like Lonnie) is a car mechanic. She can see the future like Will the wise and says “monsters of course my mind has them as long as they stayed in there, everything would be alright? Wouldn’t it?” (in her visions she saw the demogorgan).

 (completed) graphic ST novels (by Jody Hozer) so far  (+ other st comics).

*Jody Hozer writes all the graphic novels (every novel is 4 chapters each) - the will byers comic, number 6 comic , into the fire comic, and at the moment she’s writing the d&d series and the summer camp series (which isn’t done yet). Then there’s the occasional 1 chapter st comics not written by her.

- Number 6 has (the ability to foresee the future like Will the wise/Alice) and has an ab*sive dad. 

When having a nightmare of the demogorgan ...she says as she wakes up “screw you dad” (another hint the demogrgan -aka in d&d means ‘deep father’ ...is Lonnie).

- when number 6 and others run they say they’re’ “rabbiting”(which yes technically makes sense but I found such an uncommon phrase odd.)

- The (summer camp and d&d graphic novels aren’t completed yet) but they establish d&d creatures are based off  real life people the boys don’t like in real life. Or that d&d is used as an outlet to explain true events from their pasts -but they just give the true stories a d&d fantasy slant.

- Which brings me to the halloween oneshot(not by Hozer),taking place before s1. Will tells a scary story told to him by Jonathan, and originally told to him by Lonnie. Says the boys have to keep it a secret cause it was something he was never supposed to tell to anyone. Mike says he has to finish the story he started. It’s about a “ch*lld-eater” monster first attacking a boy near the quarry (like where Will was found) and  attacking kids in a library (where Will was also found in s1).When the child sees the sheriff she bangs on the library door begging for help-he ignores her , walks away, and tells the other cops to never speak of what they saw as she screams for help. Because the previous sheriff was in kahoots with the monster. It def had some ... uh questionable imagery too 0_0

The vine in the mouth is also like the one in Will’s mouth (when Joyce found him in the library).And of course Dustin asks whether or not something like that could be covered up.

- In the “bully  comic” (about troy) also not by Jody. We focus on Troy and his ab*sive dad (who encourages him to fight/ditch his best friend). The dad has a drinking problem (gets fired), calls Troy a “mess” , pushes him, and constantly encourages Troy to be vi*lent/macho. He pretty much tries sabotaging the relationship Troy has with his friend (which I could see Lonnie doing in the future with byler).The dad/troy is framed similarly to when Billy gives Max a ride home-  after both ab*sers give bad advice saying not to hang out with their friend (after witnessing them fight in the school parking lot). Dad also laughs about almost k*lling a squirrel (a trait we see troy mimic)- and we see El feel guilty about k*lling a squirrel in s2. At the end of the comic- Troy (like Will) after making up with his bff james- moves leaving his best friend behind.

-  (into the fire) Twins: (one was normal with no powers living in the real world and the twin with fire powers is trapped in a dark sunless “cold” world styled like a psych facility/medieval fantasy) . pics in link.She hated her reflection cause it reminded her of being betrayed by her normal non powered twin who left her behind in the ‘cold’ place. She’d call herself a ‘hunter’ who would defend herself and attack others to never be hurt again. Her powers being unleashed were described like opening “a door.” And she loves her twin deep down and just wants friends . And fire twin goes to the “other side” to reunite with her reflection and find happiness in the real world. *also there’s sunflower/bunny symbols which she lights on fire-which can relate back to Will/Terry/Lonnie etc. The twins = Will & Will the wise (mf)

Mirrors also connect to Will and Will the wise via the canon spotify playlists too.

Will playlist (song: mirror in the bathroom)-Mirror in the bathroom Please talk free.The door is locked -Just you and me.Mirror in the bathroom recompense for all my crimes of self defense.Cures you whisper make no sense!Drift gently into Mental illness.

Demogorgan playlist ( from perspective of Will the wise aka the mf) (song: are you dead yet? )-”polluted soul through a mirror I behold.Throw a punch, shards bleed on the floor. tearing me apart. but I don't care anymore.Should I regret or ask myself are you dead yet?Wake up, don't cry. Regenerate to deny the truth. The fiction you live in blindfolds your eyes. Disclosure, self loathing, this time you've gone too far.Or could it be, my nemesis, that you are me?

(*st ‘into the fire’ comic. the fire powered twin’s thoughts echo the song)

*I think this foreshadows the later plot points of mf (will the wise ) and Will interacting via mirrors. The fire-wielding twin and the non powered twin had a lot of mirror imagery. Including the fire powered twin (Who denies reality/and imagines herself in a fantasy world) punching her reflection because it reminds her of her non-powered twin. Here’s some cover art from the novels showing how much they emphasize mirrors.

*And in s4 movies Black swan - “the black and white swan twins (two halves of the same person-Nina)” had creepy mirror imagery. In long kiss goodnight the women with DID talks to her “ (supposed)dark 1/2″  via a mirror (in a dream).  in ‘the visit’ the teen girl who’s dad abandoned her when young-  refuses to look in the mirror (and it’s never explained why she hates her reflection). So yes I think we’ll see this in s4 or 5. We already see the mf take on the appearance of Billy when talking to him.

- Will in “zombie boy” comic is afraid he’s a monster.

also lets appreciate the lil byler moment of Mike and Will being the only zombies and mike comforting him. honestly , though, the characters were pretty out of character for most of this 1 ch comic (until the end) tbh.

- in the “d&d comic” mf is  (possibly) described as a “protector” (aka like how i said the mf is probably a perpetrator alter- which are misguided protectors).

*update now that it’s finished... hinting Will created everything subconsciously.

‘Runaway Max’ novel (before s3)

(I didn’t get time to read this book unlike ‘suspicious minds’ -so can’t show screen shots of everything others talked about. May read it eventually)

-Max compares Billy  to ‘her monster’ and a ‘shadow’ that will attack anyone that comes close (mf parallel).

- Dart k*lled a cat,  El’s papa tried to force her to k*ll a cat. And Billy when seeing a d*ad cat lights it on fire for a “viking funeral”. A connection to WW (who has fire powers) and El & dart.

-Max and Billy both are into cars and bond over fixing them (similar to Lonnie’s interest in fixing up cars). And since Lonnie tried to brag to Jonathan about fixing a car up and Will is into tech it wouldn’t be a stretch that Lonnie and Will were into fixing cars together (like Max/billy who would hang out at a autoshop in Cali) .  Similar to Will ,max says hanging with Billy wasn’t always so bad- which made things more confusing to her.

- Max compares Billy being beat up by Neil: to ‘punching a pocket of a baseball glove’. This is interesting since this book was pre-s3 which was when they established the connection of billy and his dad to baseball (similar to s1 saying  Lonnie taught Will baseball).

-Billy’s friend is a nice ‘music snob’ . He tries distracting Max with music while Billy is burning the cat. Which reminds me of Jonathan trying to distract Will from their parents fighting in the next room-with music

- Max’s bio dad is a criminal who takes her to shady bars, and Max fears he’d ‘get bored of her’. Max also ran away from her mom to her dad’s 2x.Which reminds me of Jonathan thinking Will ran to Lonnie’s in s1.

-Max mentions how Billy misses his friends after moving out of Cali. And he starts acting even worse-after the move. Which will probably be the case for Will (at least a bit) when moving to California.

-Billy tells Max Neil isn’t his ‘real dad’ either because Neil can’t be a father to anyone.

-Billy also tells Max who (at the time ) is 12 years old not to act “easy” and breaks her best friend’s (Nate’s) arm over  someone joking he was Max’s boyfriend and also cause Nate tried to get in between Billy bullying Max. Eventually all her Cali friends ditch her cause they’re afraid of Billy.And Ugh- why could I see Lonnie doing something like this in the future with Will/his new friends. 

- Creepily Max says Billy doesn’t fool around with her like other girls not because of her age or being family. But cause she wasn’t ‘attractive’. This whole excerpt gave me the heeby jeebies,on so many levels, honestly.  Almost like he’s jealous- and controlling her cause he doesn’t want Max to have any love interests. Maybe i’m just missing the context? But ugh... excerpt:

Will byers secret Files

-Hopper gets scared by a pumpkin-scarecrow. And in Will’s canon journal when talking about the mindflayer and his nightmares draws the same scare-crow , Hopper saw. There’s also a lot of s4-5 foreshadowing in the book... but that’s a post for another day.

Darkness on the edge of town (Hopper novel)

*didn’t get time to read this (except the preview)

 I think it’s more foreshadowing for future seasons though- cult/supposed ritual k*llings, people being wrongly blamed for those crimes-like the hellfire club , most likely.  (similar to the guy number 3 in the number 6 comic)  saint john in the novel also has the same brain control powers as 3- similar to the mf. .” When a blackout plunges the boroughs into chaos, Hopper must escape the the mobs in the streets to make sure his family is safe and stop Saint John from fulfilling his prophecy.” I already talked about here- how the next few seasons would start having more religious symbolism/a future apocalypse (based on what we’ve seen in the show/s4 movies). Although, i think there’s quite a few differences between (the novel’s) saint john and Will the wise. Hopper is also a star wars nerd like the boys (alter hint)

Canon spotify songs (posted after s2/before s3) hinting at DID/ alter /lonnie stuff-

Will  and Will the wise (aka the mf) being an alter

*Used Will and the demogorgan playlist (which i think has perspectives of Will the wise aka the mf, demogorgan, and Lonnie).

Besides the mirror songs previously mentioned...

Will (cold inside)-Doctor the problem's in my chest.My heart feels cold as ice but it's anybody's guess?Doctor can you help me cause I don't feel right?Better make it fast before I change my mind. Doctor can you help me cause I don't feel right?Better make it fast before I change my mindWell it's cold, cold, cold, cold inside. Darker in the day than the dead of night Cold, cold, cold, cold inside...Counselor give me some advice Tell me how hard will I fall if I live a double life?

El (ghost)-your ghost, the ghost of you.It keeps me awake.My friends had you figured out.Yeah they saw what's inside of you. You tried hiding another you.But your evil was coming through... living in the shade Your cold heart makes my spirit shake.

El (monster Lead me home)-I don't know what, what I was afraid of, I was afraid oooof...Monster take me somewhere...We walk in shadow.Monster lead me home.Where there is no place to hide.Stranger on the other side We walk in shadow.Monster lead me home.

 The’ innerworld’/  other hints Max, El, Hopper, and Billy are alters of Will’s

Max (Logical song)-I know it sounds absurd. Please tell me who I am, who I am, who I am, who I am?

EL(Buzzcut season)-I remember when your head caught flame It kissed your scalp and caressed your brain ...nothing's wrong when nothing's true. I live in a hologram with you Where all the things that we do for fun . Play along (make-believe it's hyper real) But I live in a hologram with you.

Billy (broken bones)-Broken bones.Stay alone. If I see only what I believe -reality's bound by what I conceive

Max (Why can’t i touch it)-Well, it seems so real.I can see it.And it seems so real-I can feel it.And it seems so real-I can taste it.And it seems so real-I can hear it.So why can't I touch it?

Hopper (breakers)-Just to keep me from losing my mind .It's so easy to drown in the dream.Oh, and everything is not what it seems This life is but a dream.Shatter illusions that hold your spirit down ...From the inside, so it seems.Oh, I'm telling you it's all a dream It's all a dream It's all a dream It's all a dream It's all a It's all a dream.”

Max (comfortably numb)-When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye.I turned to look but it was gone.I cannot put my finger on it now.The child is grown.The dream is gone.I have become comfortably numb.

Max (Kids aren’t alright)-Still it's hard Hard to see Fragile lives, shattered dreams...What the hell is going on? The cruelest dream, reality.

El(team)-Livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams. And you know we're on each other's team

Hopper (denial twist) ( just change ‘she’ to ‘he’)-Just because she makes you feel wrong she don't mean to be mean or hurt you on purpose, boy!Take a tip and do yourself a little service...by playing a different role Ya, by playing a different role, oh.The boat ya you know she's rockin' it.And the truth well ya know there's no stoppin' it.So what, somebody left you in a rut and wants to be the one who's in control.But the feeling that you're under can really make you wonder.How the hell she can be so cold?So now you're mad, denying the truth.And it's getting in the wisdom in the back of your tooth

El (the story)-You see the smile that's on my mouth.It's hiding the words that don't come out.And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed.They don't know my head is a mess.No they don't know who I really am.And they don't know what I've been through

El (hero) ( pretty much alludes to El being a construct of Will’s mind similar to his juju zombies in the d&d story he wrote )-Who knows what you'll find when you look inside (billy’s mind)?Haunted beach (billy flashback), roll the dice.The zombies in the corner aren't amused (d&d ref).Play the part of the blushing bride...Out of view, cloaked by night...My spirit dims, but I feel the force"No longer in my hands,"  (loses powers) .I say to you .I could've been a hero, I could've been a zero.Could've been all these thingsI could've been nothing, I could've had something.Could've been all these things.And if I am unable, tell him that I'll try but underneath the table will spin the wheel and hope for gold. Oh, and where it stops, nobody knows.

Max (it’s real)-I don't know who's behind the wheel.Sometimes I feel like I don't know The deal.But when I tell you how I feel-Believe me when I say It's real.I skated on a frozen Sea.It's real as far as I Can see?

Max (Halloween)-Because your role is planned for you there's nothing you can do.

El (White rabbit... alice and wonderland/lonnie ref)-And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall...When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead.

demogrogan(Dimensions of horror)-Gaze upon the ancient face you dread (lonnie)... Passing through the doors, into Dimensions Of Horror. Haunting visions from the past, rise once more.Realms of darkness, terror, death and gore.Scream in fear, your sanity is lost

demogorgan (SCHORCHED)-Terrorizing madness. Vivid dreams. internal. Hallucinating the unknown. Abstract entities prey.Through superhuman abilities.Fragments of memory erased.

demogrogan (Calling from a dream)-the shadow king...seven spirits (7 ref) Swarming around his head.Close your eyes.Listen to my call. Our bond will bring us together again.I will wait for you. For our hearts still beat as one.Listen to my calling from a dream. (integration?)

 Maybe a coincidence or a hint at Will having both male &female alters?Billy (dude looks like a lady)- What a funky lady...Oh, he was a lady.Dude looks like a lady. Hopper (turn the page)-All the same old cliches,"Is that a woman or a man?" Max ( rebel rebel) (this was on her her pre s3 spotify list + post s3 “wrapped list”)- you got your mother in a whirl, doesn’t know if you’re a boy or girl? 

 SHIT DAD/ AB*SIVE FAMILY

*trigger w*rning ahead for dark themes like s**ual ab*se

demogorgan (my children)My children I never loved them.Why feel that way when their existence is my business?My children...feral vessals of my selfinterest...So don't lean on me man 'Cause I ain't got nothing to give.Don't lean on me man 'Cause I ain't got nothing to give.My children they're right behind you My children they're gonna beat you.My children if you let them Oh, oh, my children.

demogorgan (black dahlia-window):  I’m not quoting the lyrics you can just look it up.  it’s messed up.Based on the 1st person pov of Gilles de Rais -k**ler and p*d*rest who also kidnapped a cleric.

Will (creature comfort)-Some boys hate themselves.Spend their lives resenting their fathers... hate their bodies .Stand in the mirror (another mirror ref) and wait for the feedback.Some boys get too much, too much love, too much touch.

Jonathan’s Playlist- We’re happy family: “Eating refried beans (poverty). Gulpin’ down Thorazines (pills for a mood disorder). We ain’t got no friends (s2 ref). Our troubles never end. Daddy likes men. Daddy’s telling LIES.”

Jonathan’s playlist-Enter sandman: “Don’t forget my son. Sleep with one eye open. Gripping your pillow tight, Exit light, Enter night. Take my hand, we’re off to never-never land. Something’s wrong, shut the light, heavy thoughts tonight. Dreams of LIARS and of things that will bite, yeah. Hush little baby don’t say a word, and never mind that noise you heard. It’s just the beasts under your bed, in your closet in your head.”

Jonathan (The killing moon-guy sings this)-So soon you'll take me up in your arms. Too late to beg you or cancel it. Against your will!He will wait until you give yourself to him...In starlit nights I saw you.So cruelly you kissed me... unwillingly mine.

jonathan (haunted)-You and I both know that the house is haunted And you and I both know that the ghost is me. You used to catch me in your bed-sheets just a-rattling your chains.Well back then , it didn't seem so strange...In the midnight hour..I was busy trying to charm that snake. When the sun came up we had no place to hide...You and I both know that the house is haunted  yeah you and I both know that the ghost is YOU! You used to walk around screaming, all slamming all 'dem doors Well I'm all grown up now and I don't scare easy no more But you and I both know.

Hopper (Confession)-Now I'm on the low Confession, to a virgin ghost Admission, force you know.

hopper (Tomorrow ) Yeah, and back when s*x and amph*tamines were the staples of our childhood physique.

Max (Last caress)-I got something to say.I k**led your baby today.And it doesn't matter much to me.As long as it's de*d.Well I got something to say.I r*ped your mother today.And it doesn't matter much to me.As long as she spread. (Lonnie pov? Neil?messed up song to be on Max’s list)

hopper House of the rising sun- And my father was a gamblin' man Way down in New Orleans... And the only time he's satisfied Is when he's on a drunk

Max Poor relations-An attitude, no patience, he's paper thin.Talking over everything you have to say...Don't correct the things he said, what's the use?Can't handle violence.Can't handle violence.Learning to love the abuse you can't live without.Your familiar oppression, your daily injustice...That loser man that belongs to you, he's ruling you.

el (sweet dreams are made of this)- Some of them want to use you ...Some of them want to ab*se you.Sweet dreams are made of this...Hold your head up.Keep your head up, movin' on.

Max (Alternative ulster)-They say they're a part of you.And that's not true, you know.They say they've got control of you.And that's a lie, you know.They say you will never Be free, free, free

max In bloom-”Sometimes at night I let it get to me.And last night it had me down and feeling NUMB...And thinking back upon those days Way way back when I was young.I was such a little shit.Cos I was always on the run.Well you know just what they say-Just like father then like son.Don't delude me with your sympathy.Cos I can do this on my own.And this will be the last time-That I break down and wanna crawl to bed. “(since Billy has a playlist I found this song choice being on hers instead of his interesting- in fact almost all of Max’s songs are from the 1st person perspective of a boy unlike the other gals.)

Max (comfortably numb)-The child is grown.The dream is gone.I have become comfortably NUMB.

hopper (numb)-Honey, here I go again Down that crooked road of sin.My momma locked me out again And hung me high to rust under the rain I am NUMB( 8x)....Little bluebird at my window Sing a pretty song for me Don't you know that you can fly, fly, fly away Don't you know that you can leave I am numb.

other psych songs

Hopper (life of sin)-Every morning when I rise I look in the mirror (another mirror ref) and despise the sight of everything and all that I've become. The level of my medicating some might find intimidating But that's alright cause' it don't bother me none.

 Max (Moon over marin)- “Dive in my scalding wooden tub (connects to mf/el)...There, wasn't that a nice visit?Don't forget, a psychiatrist is on duty twenty-four hours a day in the blue room...Drink plenty of water when you take these.Now you can relax.” ( I wonder if stranger writers saying to “drink plenty of water” is secretly a line said by a psych person in s4?)

Max (Feeling ok)-My doctor says that I should take it -At least I won't have to keep faking.I know, someday I'll find it-Where I, I least expect it.Today I know I feel ok.

Max ( Going gets tough)-.No home since the fire.Me and the ash can't settle down...So I sink another round-Placebo for pain.And there's no one for to blame . I refuse to accept-That my work is all in vain...Still always remembering .When the going gets tough .That the labor of our love-Will reward us soon enough.

 Max (Comfortably numb)-Hello? (Hello? Hello? Hello?)Is there anybody in there?Just nod if you can hear me.Is there anyone home?Come on now-I hear you're feeling down.Well I can ease your pain .Get you on your feet again.Relax // Now I've got that feeling once again.I can't explain . you would not understand.This is not how I am. I have become comfortably numb.I have become comfortably numb //Okay (okay, okay, okay)Just a little pinprick.There'll be no more, ah .But you may feel a little sick.Can you stand up?I do believe it's working, good.That'll keep you going through the show.Come on it's time to go// Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.

Explanations of Why the mf  (WIll the wise)behaves the way he does

demogorgan (ww) (Cowards starved)- friends think of me as a priest.I had to show them that the weakest hands Can still make impressive fires. (aka MF = will the wise)

demogorgan (ww) (Unmerciful):I will be reborn...Tranquil demeanor.Now devoured.Surfacing malice...I can't reconcile the torment others bring unto me.I will not take any reproach.Turning the other cheek.Relentless hatred consumes.Control released.Absolved of all compassion.I am free .Look into my hate filled eyes and tell me What do you see?Surging aura of my rage Paralyzing you in fear.

Demogorgan (ww) (bodies-Beaten why for (why for)?Can't take much more.(Here we go, here we go, here we go).One, nothing wrong with me,Two, nothing wrong with me.Three, nothing wrong with me.Four, nothing wrong with me.One, something's got to give.Two, something's got to give.Three, something's got to give now...You're all by yourself but you're not alone...Driven by hate consumed by fear.

demogrgan (ww)-Orbs used as transmitters carry electromagnetic beams from above (affecting magnetic fields in the show).Silence, manipulated, tortured ...How immune is your system of suffering?Its in the blood of suffering (familial ref).Its in the blood.

 Demogrgan (Monster)-I shoot the lights out..Whoa, just another lonely night...None of who you get it, ain't nobody cold as this.A zombie (will ref) with no conscience .Everybody knows I'm a motherfucking monster. Everybody wanna know what my Achilles' heel is? Love I don't get enough of it.

[whyyoudothistomecavill]

Don't - Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is my first time writing fanfiction. Chapter one is an introduction to the kind of relationship the characters have and, in future chapters I will fill in the gaps left in this part.

But first, let's see how this one goes.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

I took the name from a song written by Jewel. Go and listen to it. Trust me, after the first verse, THAT person will pop in your head. Never fails.

Before we jump in, there's a few people I need to thank:

@littlefreya for helping me with the editing since I don't have a beta yet, for encouraging me knowing what a big deal this is for me, and for all the things you already know. I'll always be in your debt.

@mary-ann84 for making me feel welcome since day one and putting up with me and my annoying questions at any time of day. Girl, you deserve an award for patience.

@radaofrivia for taking the time to read my ramblings and giving me the reassurance I needed. For showing up out of nowhere when I was almost defeated by my lack of tumblr comprehension and explained everything to me with the patience of a kindergarten teacher. Greek god Henry sent you my way, I have no doubt.

There aren't words enough to express how big of an inspiration all of you are to me. To be able to call you my friends, fills my heart with extreme joy and gratitude. So again THANK YOU.

I took the liberty to tag some people, to some I asked for their permission, to others I didn't, so if this bothers you in any way, just message me and I'll fix it, there's absolutely no obligation and I won't be offended.

With that being said, let's get to the point.

Title: Don't

Pairing: Henry x female reader.

Word count: 1682

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and if you squint your eyes you might find a bit of smut.

Summary: Henry and reader are a couple living together for 1 year. Reader have struggled with self esteem issues and insecurities her whole life and when she met Henry, she thought she had left all that in the past, but certain events made her realize that her soul is far from being healed.

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction written by me. Please don't post it anywhere else without my permission. Reblogs here are welcomed of course. Thank you.

"Are you ok, darling?"

"Yes, honey"

"Are you sure? You don't seem ok"

"I'm ok, Hen," you smiled, "I'm just tired. I wanna get home, have a shower and then go to bed"

He didn't seem convinced but he didn't ask again. The rest of the ride home was silent, you looked out the window and prayed for the strength to act like everything was normal, while he concentrated on the road and hummed along to the radio.

But you knew better. You knew that this man, the most gorgeous man on earth, the man you called your boyfriend, the man every woman (and a lot of men too), thirsted for, was also the smartest, the most affectionate and that he paid attention to every single thing, especially you. He could notice the smallest change in your demeanor, he could tell when something was wrong and this time was no difference. He was just giving you time to process whatever it was upsetting you before you could talk to him, but in no way was he buying the "just tired" bs. And you knew it.

You entered the house and discarded your shoes and purse. Henry was taking Kal out of the car and into the house when you said "I'm gonna take a shower," and quickly rushed upstairs without waiting for an answer, you needed to be alone so desperately.

You got into the bathroom and took your clothes off without even glancing in the mirror, you didn't want to see anybody, much less yourself.

The hot water was bliss to your sore muscles, too bad it didn't make a difference to the pain in your heart. You rested your forehead into the tiled wall and felt the water gently massaging your back and legs. You were so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't hear the bathroom door being open. Henry was already behind you, his strong hands caressing your back as light as a feather and his mouth on your ear, "may I join you?"

You turned around and looked at him, at those eyes bluer than the sky itself, at those curls that did things to you just by looking at them, and that smile, the most perfect and genuine smile you had ever seen, it was literally impossible not to smile back at him, it was contagious.

He didn't wait for an answer, he lowered himself to put his arms around your waist as you put yours around his neck and kissed you deeply and tenderly. You knew he did that so you wouldn't have to be on your tiptoes to kiss him, he was so damn considerate and perfect it infuriated you sometimes.

So you closed your eyes and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, he sensed the heat in your kiss and grabbing your behind, lifted you up still kissing you, putting your back against the wall. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and he broke the kiss to look at you, his hair was tousled all over from the water and your hands. His lips were swollen from the kissing and his eyes were dark with lust but also full of love. Oh,so much love.

"What do you want?" He said, "Tell me. What do you need? I'm here, I'm yours".

Something inside of you broke, it was too much. "I want you, Henry. I need you. Now. Inside of me. Please".

He didn't wait for you to ask again, maneuvering you as if you weighed nothing, he made you descend on his length without breaking eye contact, until you were completely full of him. He started to move, slowly and leisurely making you moan and clung to him for dear life.

He didn't know about the battle that was going on inside you. You wanted him to crawl within you and fill the emptiness eating your soul, you wanted to hold him and never let go, you wanted to stop time. Or maybe go back in time, or just disappear. But for the time being you were just grateful for the water running over both of you, not letting Henry notice that your tears were running as well.

Even if you were shattered inside, your body would always succumb to him, there was no point in resisting, and as he kept moving in and out of you, whispering sweet nonsenses in your ear, the orgasm hit you like a thunder lightning crying out his name, his release following moments later triggered by your loud moans.

He held you still between him and the wall while you both recovered your breath, filling your neck with open mouthed kisses.

He lowered you and you held him tightly, putting your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. It always soothed you. You both stayed that way under the shower in silence, until you started to feel the boiling inside you rising again. "I'm gonna get the towels" you said, "I got it" said he and with a swift move of his long arms, he reached for the towels and started drying you, hair first, then your body, slowly, caressing every inch of it and leaving light kisses everywhere his hands would pass.

He was kneeling in front of you, drying your legs and slowly going up, your eyes were fixated on him and his movements, not saying a word. He looked up, saw you staring, and reaching up, caressed your face so softly it made you lean your head in his hand, closing your eyes. It was like time stopped and you were there alone just savoring that moment, keeping it in your memory forever and you couldn't help the single tear rolling down your cheek into his hand...

When you opened your eyes, you saw the look of concern on his face, "What is it baby? What's wrong?"

You needed to make a choice, so you chose the truth. At least the one truth that wouldn't hurt him: "I love you so much".

"And that makes you cry?"

You chuckled a little, "No, I sometimes get overwhelmed by all these feelings, I'm sorry for being so sensitive" you said, wiping your eyes and smiling through tears.

He stood up and crashed your lips with his, taking you by surprise and lifting you up, carrying you like a bride to your bed.

He got in too, cuddling you from behind and you intended to get up to find one of his t-shirts, your go-to pajamas since day one with him, but he stopped you with his arm around your waist and pulled you against him, your back on his chest, your naked bodies molding perfectly together under the sheets.

You clutched his hand in yours, closed your eyes and tried to ease your racing heart.

His voice took you back to reality:

"Look at me, love"

You turned around in his arms just enough to look him in the eyes, and it surprised you to see, his were a little watery too.

"I love you" he whispered. "I love you like I never thought it was possible to love someone. You have brought to my life the hope that my tired heart believed was lost. I want to spend every minute of every day with you and when my work keeps us apart, I can't wait to share with you every detail of my day. You know sometimes..." he paused, smiling and looking away, "sometimes I have to tell myself *get it together Cavill! You're a grown man acting like a teenager*, but that's what you do to me" he said looking at you again and caressing your lips with his thumb, "You're my fuel, my reason, you're my last thought when I go to sleep and my first one when I wake up, and I'm so grateful to have you that sometimes I'm scared to think that I don't express it enough for you to actually get a glimpse of how happy you make me. That's why I might seem a little clingy around you... I love you and I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, that I'm always here for you, it doesn't matter if I'm working or doing anything else, you are my priority, ok?"

You were a crying mess by now and watching his red eyes trying so hard not to cry, wasn't helping.

"Ok?" he said again, clearly demanding an answer from you.

But your words wouldn't come out. How? How could you tell him? How on earth was he supposed to imagine that he had chosen the worst possible moment to tell you this?

So again you settled for the truth, the only indisputable truth you could give him, and nodding you took his face in your hands and kissed him, pulling him on top of you.

He engulfed you in his arms and broke the kiss to breathe, you covered his face with light kisses tasting the salt of his tears which only added more sorrow to your battered soul.

"Make love to me," you said against his lips. He looked at you through hooded eyes and went for the spot on your neck he knew drove you crazy.

This was the truth. The fact that when you were together you couldn't tell where each of you ended and the other began. The absolute certainty of loving him with every fiber of your being, knowing you could never love anyone else this much, not even in a thousand lives. You never hid it. It was impossible to...

A few hours later, you were watching him peacefully asleep, his features even more beautiful in the dim morning light. You carefully kissed him and placed your head on his chest, he held you tighter against him and said something that sounded like "I love you". "I love you too" you said, granting him again the truth you couldn't deny.

The unspoken truth however, the one he was about to learn, was that in fact, the one you didn't love... was yourself.

Tag list:

@mary-ann84 @littlefreya @radaofrivia @demivampirew @dancingwendigo @seb-owns-these-tatas​ @viking-raider​ @cruelfvkingsummer​ @cherry-acid​ @achaoticaugust​ @promptandpros​ @ladyreapermc​ @honeychicanawrites​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @chamomilebottom​ @deathonyourtongue​

[morgon--dagen]

Elleskudt, Part I

Pairing: Haldir x OC Word Count: 2, 301 Warnings: Smut (in Part II) Link to Part II: https://morgon--dagen.tumblr.com/post/641929619922108416/elleskudt-part-ii Link to AO3 post: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113047/chapters/71466606 Background: I am currently in the process of writing a multi-chapter Thranduil x OC fanfic (be gentle with me, I have not written a single fanfic in a long time) and it occurred to me that one of the chapters would be pretty cool with an alternative turn of events, which didn’t really seem to fit with my vision for the whole original story, so I decided to make it into a separate fanfiction. The plot of the master fanfiction from which this is derived is not important to the plot of this one, so all you need to know is pretty much that the elleth OC, called Ringelen is imprisoned along with the dwarves (takes place during the Hobbit) and Thranduil takes her to Lorien to have his questions about her answered by Galadriel and Celeborn, because the elleth wouldn’t give him any answers herself. At the border of Lorien, Ringelen and the Mirkwood company are met by the march warden of Lorien whom Ringelen finds a bone to pick with. As it turns out, she has found the wrong elf to mess with, because Haldir finds an untraditional way to put her in her place for her boldness. Title Meaning: From Danish, “elleskudt” literally translates to “elf-shot” and is derived from old Norwegian folk tales, where people would get shot with poisonous arrows by creatures in the forest, causing them to fall ill. I warped the meaning in the sense of the fiction, as Haldir didn’t shoot Ringelen with his actual arrow, but the figurative one that he shot her with caused her to betray her principles.

As the prisoner walked in front of the whole company at a small distance, she was in her waking dream state that was so typical for any elf, as she needed her kind of rest for all the walking. Suddenly, her waking dream was interrupted by an arrow pointed straight at her face, which sure was not a part of her dream.

“Stop!” she shouted, in order to prevent the company from moving further, where it could possibly be unsafe. She then turned her eyes to the possessor of the bow and a glimmer of threat and at the same time curiosity could be seen in them.

“How unvigilant for an elf, you almost walked into an arrow willingly,” the elf holding the bow mocked.

“How uncourteous for an elf, to point an arrow at a fellow elleth,” the elleth bit back.

“I would not trust not to point an arrow at an elleth whom is evidently in chains,” the elf raised his eyebrows after he shot a quick glance at the shackles upon the elleth’s wrists.

“Oh, you mean these?” the elleth raised her enchained hands, “These are just a misunderstanding, I assure you, but you would have to learn more about it from the elven king, seeing as you were...” she paused meaningfully, “unvigilant enough to notice that this enchained elleth is accompanied by the royals of Mirkwood,” she smirked. The elf barely curled the corner of his lips in an ironic smirk.

“My lord Thranduil,” the elf raised his voice as the king approached and he sharply turned his bow to the ground away from the elleth, “It has been some time since you last came visiting fair Lorien. Greetings, I am Haldir – Marchwarden of Lothlorien. What brings you hither?”

“Well met, march warden. I have matters to discuss with the Lord and Lady, if you would give us your leave to pass,” the king announced.

“That goes without saying, my Lord, however, I am not sure of your prisoner here,” the march warden turned his suspicious gaze to the elleth.

“Do not worry about her, she will not bother anyone in these restraints,” Thranduil smiled at her ironically.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she muttered under her breath, but being an elf, Thranduil heard her, as she very well expected and he squinted at her threateningly.

“Very well, my lord, then you all have my leave to pass, follow me,” the march warden proclaimed as he turned one last time with suspicion to the prisoner.

“Be very afraid,” she whispered mockingly before he turned away and led the way into Lorien.

“That is enough, Ringelen,” the King ordered sternly, overhearing the elleth. “You seem to have a way with folk in position of power - a way of antagonizing them, that is,” he stated with amusement without turning to the elleth.

“You could say I have a way with such folk, yes, but what do you mean by ‘antagonizing’? – it is quite evident that he is fond of me, and so are you,” the elleth replied boldly with irony.

“Quite evidently, if one is so fond of you, they would not put you in restraints or point their sharp arrows at you,” Thranduil retorted. The elleth laughed.

“It depends,” she replied, more to herself than to him as she kept her gaze ahead, following the path of the march warden.

 As Haldir led them to the house of the Lord and the Lady in Caras Galadhon, they were surprised to find that the Lord and Lady were already expecting them. Haldir’s brothers, Rumil and Orophin, had already brought the news of the oncoming guests.

“Welcome, Thranduil, king of the Woodland realm, welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil,” Lady Galadriel greeted them with her never fading smile and she paused before she turned to the elleth, “and welcome, Ringelen of Eregion, I have heard much of you from your guardian – the Lord Elrond of Rivendell. He would be quite perturbed to find out what you have landed yourself in,” she teased with a warm smile.

“My fair Lady,” the elleth bowed, her tone was completely different and humble when talking to the Lady, as opposed to the manner of speaking that Thranduil and Haldir had provoked in her. “I assure you that when he finds out what the quest I took upon has brought onto me, he would self-handedly surrender me to king Thranduil and his dungeons, if that would withhold me from any further quests,” Ringelen explained almost gravely, but with a tone of humor, fully acknowledging her own situation. The lady laughed gently and the sound filled the air with joy.

“I am in no position to guide the king’s ruling hand when it comes to his own prisoners, but here in Lorien, you are a free elleth, so if the king would be so kind as to release you for the duration of your stay, I would be most grateful,” she turned meaningfully to Thranduil. “I do not believe they are necessary to begin with, for based on what I know, this is her being courteous – I am not convinced that those chains would have stopped her from escaping you on your way here,” Galadriel shot a knowing glance at Ringelen with a smile. “Do not worry, if she should by any chance try to leave, I doubt that Haldir will give her an easy time.” With these words, Haldir turned to the elleth and everything in his gaze just spoke ‘I will be watching you’. Ringelen shot him an ironic smile as she raised her eyebrows, hinting that she would not be easily subdued.

“Most certainly, my Lady,” the king bowed his head slightly, his silver-blond hair cascading down his shoulders, even though there was the slightest bit of reluctance that he should remove the restraints. “Legolas, unbind her. I will need you to keep her close under watch, march warden, while my son and I are occupied with the business which concerns us.”

“If you do not mind me saying, Lord, a piece of advice would be to replace them across her mouth,” Haldir said as he looked at Ringelen.

“As the fairest of ladies mentioned, march warden Haldir, you will come to find that it would take much more than chains to bind me – hands or otherwise,” she almost whispered and Haldir could not help thinking that his name rolled nicely off her tongue. While elves were not ones to be smitten by looks, he could not deny that she was as beautiful as a cold winter night with her long black hairs falling down her white shoulders, at the same time she was as hard as steel and as proud as a mountain and this wildness in her sparked his interest, but this spark could not burn out the irritation that she caused him. No one had ever dared to talk down to him like that and he did not like it.

“I could figure something out,” Haldir hinted with an even tone of threat.

“Please, make sure to let me in on your ideas,” Ringelen retorted.

“I might indeed be compelled to beyond my will.”

“Your spirit can certainly not be bound, Ringelen and we shall need more and more such spirits in Middle-earth as years advance,” the lady cut in with a smile with the intention to stop this brawl which seemed like it could and very well would go on forever. “I would like to hear of your quest so far, as soon as king Thranduil’s questions have been answered,” Galadriel slowly turned her all-knowing gaze from Ringelen to Thranduil and gestured that he follows her and the lord. Ringelen and Haldir were solely left behind and she sighed deeply. She knew that she could not possibly leave Lorien unnoticed, therefore she did not even intend to (not to mention she could not go back into Mirkwood for the dwarves without being caught and put under double watch), but if she was to take in the beauty of fair Lorien for the first time, she certainly did not fancy having a march warden on her tail – a quite bold march warden nonetheless. She gave him a meaningful look as she turned on the heel of her boot and let her feet take her just anywhere in Lorien.

“On your way to attempt to escape, I suppose,” Haldir followed her as she expected he would and she rolled her eyes.

“You really believe that, do you not?” She questioned rhetorically with barely any emotion in her tone. “I am on my way to see the beauty of Lorien with my own eyes – the only joyful thing that I will get to do for a long time, if you must know my intentions, march warden.”

“Then if you would take my advice, though I would hardly suffer to be the one to bring you to your joy, I can show you a place where you can bring this intention of yours to life,” the march warden stated flatly.

“I am most tempted to refuse anything you could offer, but I have longed to behold Lorien for way too long to give in to this...impulse and seeing as you dwell here, you would know much better what is most worth seeing,” she shot him a meaningful glance, “lead the way then, if you will, march warden.” Ringelen stated a little more courteously and with an ever so slight bow of his head, almost a mocking one, he took the lead.

They walked in tense silence up a hill, Ringelen unsure where to stop her gaze first on the way there, as everything seemed worth being absorbed by her sight and everything seemed to warm her soul, so her head would constantly turn left and right, like an excited small child would. That is indeed how she felt, for through all her years, the only look upon Lothlorien she had ever had was through the words in her books and it seemed now even to her, an elf, like a fantasy come to life.

“I bid you welcome to Cerin Amroth,” Haldir announced as they reached the top of the hill and Ringelen’s breath was caught in her chest. The view that was revealed to her was far beyond the wildest fruits of her imagination.

“You really meant what you said, did you not,” Ringelen rather stated than asked, as she recalled Haldir’s words. He held back a smirk. She was now a completely different elleth than the one he had met at the border of the realm. She was peaceful and fully absorbed by the sight. For all it was worth, she decided could spare him a retort or two in exchange of him having brought her to this place of pure magic. She gazed at Caras Galadhon and as reluctant as she was to snap out of her daze, she turned to the other side and could see Anduin and southern Mirkwood, which made her acknowledge how long the way was to come hither from the great forest. Haldir was himself entranced by the view, though he had seen it many times, he never grew tired of it, but at the same time he was internally gloating, for he considered her reaction to the view a small victory on his side.

“I will be here for a while, just so you know,” Ringelen finally broke the silence as she finally turned to Haldir, seeing him stand quietly not far from her. Now that he stood on the background of this magical place, she could appreciate that he was handsome in his sternness as the southern wind blew through his blond hair, but sharing his own thoughts on the matter, this did not take away the slightest bit of irritation that he had brought to her, though the feeling was mellowed down ever so slightly after this gesture of his. She knelt and propped herself up on her left hand as she bore her sight into the distance again, looking almost as she owned the hill. Haldir examined her for a moment before making up his mind. He could easily leave her to her own devices, for even at the opposite side of Lorien, he would still know of her every move.

“If you should try anything at all, I will know,” though his tone was ever so stern, there was barely a trace of threat in it this time.

“No one would risk the wrath of the king,” Ringelen almost whispered with a grin, seemingly more to herself than to Haldir, as she did not turn his gaze towards him. She was amused at the turmoil she seemed to be causing for Thranduil with her very presence.

“No one but you, it appears,” the march warden noticed with a hint of blame mixed with fascination, as he was aware of the king’s temper no less than very much every elf.

“The wrath of kings is my playground,” she whispered again and her grin widened. Her tone suggested that no more was to be said, so Haldir turned on his heel hesitantly, inspecting her one last time before he went down the hill.

Long she lingered on the hill and she seemed to have lost her sense of time, as Haldir appeared once again, almost surprised that she had not moved from where he left her, for he had kept watch over her from afar. He brought news that there was to be a feast in honor of the guests, to which she was invited along with the king and the prince of Mirkwood. The lady had insisted that she would be present. Ringelen hesitated, for she was not one for feasts, but she held deep respect for the Lady and the Lord and made up her mind to appear at the feast after all.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot- To The Stars And Back

Intro: Steve and Katie receive a message which Tony left before his death.

Warnings: “Language!” 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: This was originally a full chapter, however I as I ended up publishing Stark Spangled Man I stripped out the flashback, and it left me with this little mini. It always sat in my head that Tony would leave personalised messages for Katie and Steve, along with the rest of his family, not just the generic one we saw at his funeral so here we are.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Happy?” Katie frowned momentarily as the man strode into her kitchen, followed by Steve. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today, not that you’re not welcome, of course you are.” She hastily added.

“It’s okay, Kiddo, I know what you meant.” He chuckled softly “The kids not here?” “Jamie’s gone to the park with Bucky and Sam, and Emmy’s taken Lucky for a walk.” She answered. “Why, do we need them?”

“No, I was just gonna say hi but I’ll see them tomorrow I suppose.” He smiled sadly at the thought of the funeral. “But, anyway, I came to deliver this. It turns out even, well, even when he’s gone your brother has me running errands.”

Katie smiled softly as he held up the box in front of her.

“He left three. One for you and Steve, one for Pepper and Morgan, and one for his Funeral….so…”

“His Funeral?” Steve frowned, as Katie opened a drawer and retrieved a knife before she walked over to the table. She had a feeling she knew what was in there, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she carefully slit the tape on the cardboard box and took a breath as she realised she was right.

Inside was an Iron Man helmet, one of his many spares from his suits over the years.

“He’s erm, ” she took a breath as she instantly recognised which suit this had come from. “He’ll have left a message or something, like he did all those years ago from Tennessee.”

Happy nodded. “He did. The boxes arrived at the house today. Along with instructions that if he had, you know, then they were to be distributed accordingly.”

“Thanks.” Katie set the helmet on the table and glancing into the box. There was another, smaller package inside, to which an envelope was attached. She smiled as she read her brother’s handwriting on the front. It simply said ‘Spangles’.

“We were just about to get lunch.” Steve tore his eyes away from Katie as he looked to Happy. “Do you want to join us?”

“Thanks but I should be getting back.” Happy declined the offer politely. “Stuff to do before tomorrow.”

Katie gave him a small smile, placing the smaller box on the table “Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me neither.” Happy swallowed, dropping a hand to her shoulder “But we’ll get through it. We always do, huh?”

“I’ll see you out.” Steve said, as Happy gave Katie a hug before he nodded and the two men left the room.

Katie looked at the helmet which now sat on the table, and she took a deep breath before she picked it up and looked straight into the eye sockets. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, resting her forehead against the cool metal she held in her hands. She had no idea which suit this was from, but then again Tony had made so many of the damned things, it could be Mk500 for all she knew. The tears began to fall down her face as she screwed her eyes shut, head pressed against the helmet, before gently hands pried it from hers.

“Hey,” Steve spoke softly, dropping into the seat next to her, placing the helmet on the table. “Come here.”

She turned into him, pressing her face to his chest as she shook with silent sobs. His hand gently rubbed her back as he soothed her, waiting for her to calm down.

“Sorry,” She pulled back. “Stop apologising.” Steve shook his head, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Katie took a deep breath and glanced at the helmet, before she remembered something. “Oh, here.” She reached out for the smaller box, and nudged it towards him.  “This was in there for you.” Steve frowned and took the box, looking at the envelope. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes “That fucking nickname.”

“Open it.” Katie urged. “I wanna see what it is.”

Smiling at her ever impatient nature, Steve tore the envelope open. His eyes scanned the writing and his brow furrowed slightly, before his lips turned up in a soft smile and he handed the note to her.

Hey Old Man. My dad once told me that no amount of money can buy a second of time, yet he had a hell of a lot of expensive watches, so go figure. This particular one, however, I couldn’t auction for charity. I always intended to pass it to you, one way or another. And if you’re reading this note you’re getting it after my demise…so I best explain.

I did a bit of digging and it turns out that most of the guys involved in ‘Operation Rebirth’ and the Howling Comandos got one of these post the War. It’s a Wartime Rolex Oyster, probably worth a fair dime or two but the sentiment makes it priceless as you’ll see when you look at it. (Here’s a clue- check the back!) It only feels right that you have it. I had intended to pass it to you for your 40th,or your 107th, whatever you wanna call it, but again, as you’re reading this I won’t be there for that.  

I know Jamie’s surname is Rogers but there is half Stark in him so he’s not a complete lost cause, and maybe when he’s older you can pass this down to him. Or if you have any more kids that are boys, I dunno, maybe you can give them a strap each or something. Whatever.

I’m also assuming you’ll be reading this before watching the message I left as we both know Kiddo is an impatient brat so I’ll leave it there, I don’ t wanna spoil my heartfelt speech too much.

T 

Whilst Katie was reading, Steve opened the box and he gently took the watch in his hand. It was silver, with a black leather strap and a simple, classic face. He studied at it before he turned it over and he instantly felt a lump in his throat. Engraved on the back was the Howling Commando emblem- they had adopted the wings from his helmet which had adorned their uniforms in whichever place they chose- with the words ‘To The Captain’ arched over the top in copper slate writing.

He gently handed it to Katie and she glanced down at it, turning it over to read the inscription, her fingers running over the writing.

“Wow.” She whispered, wiping her eyes “I’ve never seen this before.”

“It’s erm, ” Steve cleared his throat, his voice thick, “it’s pretty…”

“Awesome.” Katie smiled up at him.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded as she handed it back to him, and he placed it back in the leather box, setting it to one side.  Seeing that had brought a wave of emotions crashing back over him. Nostalgia, slight sadness at the loss of not just Tony but his other friends, and pride.

Pride that even after he was gone they’d remembered him in such a touching and genuine way.

Shaking himself out of it, he looked at Katie and then nodded to the helmet. “Do you wanna do it now or…” She nodded and picked it up in a shaking hand, before she put it on.

“Retinal Scan authenticated” FRIDAY’s voice spoke “Greetings Mrs Rogers…accessing Stark Secure Server, hologram projection activated.”

Katie removed the helmet and placed it on the table, pointing it away from them as the footage beamed out from the eye sockets. She took a deep breath as the hologramatic form of her brother appeared and he smiled at them.

“Hey Kiddo.” He spoke, “Cap…”

Katie wanted to speak back, so badly, but she knew it was pointless, he wasn’t actually there. Steve gently reached for her hand and she linked her fingers into his.

“So, I thought I better record a message, you know just in case it all goes sideways tomorrow.” Tony sniffed, sitting down on a chair. “I’ve left one for Pepper and Morgan too and the gang, but I wanted to leave you your own. I hope that you’re watching this back and our plan worked, that everyone came back and we did it,” he took a deep breath, “but there’s a couple of things I wanna get out of the way before we get into the soppy shit. So, first off, I’m leaving half my shares of Stark Industries to you, the other half goes to Pepper who will more than likely keep it for Moo once she’s old enough. If you both come to the decision to sell then, that’s cool. It’s probably run its course anyway. If not then good luck taking it in whatever direction you choose, not that you need luck, you’ve proven yourself more than capable of running it pretty much singlehandedly over the last five years.”

Katie took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes with her spare hand, the one that was entwined with Steve’s tightened around his fingers.

“Second, most of the cash assets I have pass to Pepper, but I’ve left instructions that there’s some for you as well. I know you don’t need it but I want you to use it for the kids, however many you end up with. Tell them Uncle Nee wanted to leave them something. And thirdly, the house in Malibu. I knew we never got round to rebuilding it but I still own the land and I want you to have it, Kiddo. That was our home for years and I watched you grow up there into the strong, beautiful woman you became so it only feels right. Plus it’s where we buried that fucking turkey too so it’s probably haunted by the evil bastard anyway. There’s a fund set up as well which should let you rebuild it however you want.

I know you probably won’t want to move from Brooklyn, I mean Cap’s lived there pretty much all his life, well, maybe, if you don’t count the sixty-five years doing time as a Capsicle or the time in DC and then wherever the hell you were when, well, you know,” Tony waved his hand, “whatever, the point is you can rebuild it how you want and use it how you want, nice little holiday home maybe.” Katie took a shuddering breath as now her tears were falling thick and fast. She’d forgotten all about that house, their home that had been destroyed. The fact that Tony had never sold the land so she could have it back in some form was astounding and overwhelming at the same time.

“So now that’s dealt with, onto the good stuff. First off, Spangles.” Tony spoke and Steve shifted slightly “I know we’ve had our differences, but I just wanted you to know when it comes to Katie I trust you implicitly, I think I always have done in a way. I never really had any doubts in my mind since that day I spoke to you in DC. To be honest you’re such a straight guy I trust you with pretty much anything, well, maybe not quite, I’m still not sure about our driving but that’s a different story.” Tony winked and Steve spluttered a chuckle. The fact that Captain America was a bit of a speed demon behind the wheel and been a long running joke amongst the Avengers since the beginning. “You’re a good man with a good heart, everyone knows this, I mean that’s the reason you were chosen for the serum anyway isn’t it? Because it makes the good better. I know I’m leaving my girl in good hands, but just so you know,” he raised his fingers to his eyes in the familiar ‘I’m watching you’ sign and Steve smiled, “and that won’t stop now, because if you ever do let her down I’ll make it my mission to haunt you for the rest of your life.” Tony smiled “But I know you won’t. And because I know you probably still don’t believe me I wanted to tell you once and for all that I don’t blame you for any of the shit that went down. I Love you buddy, Take it easy.”  Steve took a deep breath and wiped his tears with his spare hand as Katie gently squeezed his other again as hologram Tony shifted in his seat and his attention turned to Katie.

“Kiddo,” he sighed, “I don’t even know where to start. I know I’ve said it and said it again, but my biggest achievement in life will always be how well and good and honest and…amazing you turned out, even with me as a role model. If Moo turns out to be anything like you when she’s older then…” he trailed off and shrugged, “well, I only wish I was gonna be there to see it, oh, and that reminds me, Spangles I’m counting on you to be there to vet all potential boyfriends for suitability.” Both Katie and Steve let out a watery chuckle at that.

“But yeah, where was I…oh, right…I watched how you took Emmy under your wing, then when you had Jamie and how they’re both growing into spectacular people, it’s awesome and I really couldn’t be any prouder of the woman you became. Never lose that will to do the right thing, never lose that Stark stubbornness, never lose that streak of ferocity that leaves everyone quaking in their boots. After everything you’ve been through, I’m just sorry that I’m bringing more shitty times to your door by meeting an untimely death, but I know you’ll get through the other side, you always do. Just remember, this was my choice to fight, my choice. So I don’t want anyone thinking they’re to blame. You know, I think, deep down, I’ve always known it would end this way ever since New York. And rather this than some crazy old bastard rattling round in a home not knowing what day it is.”

Katie took another deep breath as Tony wiped his hand down his face.

“Anyway, please make sure they don’t play any soppy shit at my funeral. AC/DC, Queen or Led Zep will suffice, maybe some Train, I dunno.” He winked and Katie smiled through her tears “And if Ross is there, give him this from me.” He raised his middle finger of his right hand before he chuckled. “But I don’t know why I’m recording all of this anyway as I’m sure it’s gonna work out. I’ll probably be sat here watching it back and grimacing at how ridiculously stupid I sound and look, but just in case…I want you to remember that I love you to the stars and back my girl, I always will, and I’m beyond proud of you.”

And with that the message cut off, leaving the kitchen quiet bar Katie’s shaking, soft sobs. Steve gently turned towards her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. She pressed her face into his chest, her hands sliding around his back where she gripped at his shirt her brother’s final goodbye to her echoing in her head.

**** Chapter 60

 **Original Posting**

[prettywordsyouleft]

To Be Continued - Part 8

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

The angst has made it’s way into the station, everyone. Buckle up for the pain that’s going to come.

A/N: this story idea was created from receiving two prompts for Brian in the YouxIdol drabble game I was completing this year. In this part, you can find prompt #194, “I don’t want to live in a world where I’m not with you.”

Word count: 2397

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

You were anxious whilst waiting for Lily’s arrival. At first, she laughed hysterically after your announcement. However, she stopped suddenly, peering at Brian, who waved gently in response. You worried she might collapse from the reactions that seemed to rock her back and forth when in a calm voice, she told you she was on her way over and then ended the call.

You had been pacing in the hallway in front of your door ever since.

“It’s going to be fine,” Brian assured, and you nodded distantly.

“Fine. Yes. Of course.”

“I mean, I convinced you of my existence. It won’t be much for me to do the same to Lily.”

“Except part of that was you came out of the laptop in front of me.” Glancing up at him, you shoved Brian down the hallway to your office and over to the laptop. “Do it again.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a circus monkey.”

“No, but you did come in and out of the story multiple times,” you reminded, and Brian folded his arms across his chest.

“Only because you called me out.”

“So go back in and I’ll call you out when she’s here.”

Brian snorted. “And send your editor into a mess or make her faint as you did?!”

“Well, that way she won’t be able to say we’re making this up!”

“Except we’re not making this up and we’ll get through it without any stunts, okay?” he told you, rubbing your shoulders and attempting to loosen the tension within them. You slumped, hoping Brian was right.

There was a frantic knock at the door then, and Brian nodded gently before going to answer it. Peering around the corner of your living area, you watched as he greeted Lily. The woman stepped inside, circled around him and then shook her head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“I know it seems a little implausible but-”

“Brian Kang truly exists,” Lily cut off your attempt to start the conversation, and you shared a surprised glance with Brian before stepping closer to your friend. She stared up at Brian. “Any chance Park Jinyoung exists too?”

“I’ve tried,” you mentioned in a small voice when Brian’s face grew moody and let out a little laugh. “I think we’re best off just having one literary character in our existence, right?”

You were surprised by how easily Lily accepted all this. Of course, Brian gave her a similar speech as he had to you when you came around after meeting him the first time, and answered any of her questions. But unlike you, Lily didn’t have many. Instead, she marvelled his existence up close – and rather a little too personally – before you cleared your throat and gestured for some tea.

Taking your editor into your office and shutting the door, you then sat down on the small couch across the room together.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me right away!”

“If it makes you any happier, you are the first person I’ve explained his actual existence to.”

“Brian mentioned he had met your doctor and that handsome cop you told me about,” Lily replied, and you cringed.

“Both of them don’t know the full story. In fact, I made things worse with Brian’s existence in front of Sungjin.” Lily perked at this, and you waved her off. “It’s a long story.”

“You know what isn’t, though? Eternity.” Placing down her mug of tea, Lily turned in her seat and shook your forearm gently. “You’re sitting on a gold mine here!”

“Hardly. I can write, Lily. Just not about Brian.”

“Why not?”

“It’s as you said, it’s as if I’ve sucked the life out of Brian in my story now. Because he’s out here and not in there.”

Lily grew thoughtful. “Have you asked Brian to help you write the story?”

“Well, no. I’m the writer, and he’s the character.”

“Perhaps he can assist you by making his role more organic again. After all, he knows himself best, doesn’t he?”

She had a point. “Maybe it could work.”

“I don’t blame you for being distracted lately, though. After seeing him, I don’t know how effective I’d be in person either,” she gushed, and you bit your lip as your mouth curved into a delighted smile.

“He’s magical.”

“He’s divine!” Lily enthused with you, and you both giggled.

“And he can hear you,” a voice called out from the other side of the door, and you both gripped onto the other in fright before busting out into laughter once more.

It was good having someone you could talk to fully about the man now in your life.

Lily, after calming down and draining off the rest of her tea, stood from the couch and smiled. “I trust you’ll both get the story started the way it’s meant to go, Y/N.”

“I hope so. I don’t want to be like this with my work. This series has meant a lot to me.”

“Do you need me to stay or will I get in the way of your rendezvous?” she teased, and you swatted a hand out at her. “What?! If I had a chance with someone like Brian, I’d not be able to hold back!”

“I’m decently approaching him, and that’s all there is to it!”

“Maybe you need to get more intimate then. It might help with this final part of the story.”

“Lily!” you cried as she smirked at you. “That’s not what’s in the plans for this world, and you know it!”

“Well, I didn’t expect to meet a character come to life in this world of ours, but it’s happened. Things can easily be adapted, Y/N.”

“Okay! Out with you now!” you demanded with a laugh, pushing your friend to the door of your office.

She hesitated, shooting a wicked look over your shoulder. “You’re sure you’ve done everything when it comes to seeing if Jinyoung-”

“Out!” you repeated, shoving the now laughing woman out of the room. She turned to hug you and then winked at Brian before heading for the front door.

“I expect a proper submission by next week. That’s all the extra time I’m giving you. Have fun in love, the pair of you.”

Once the door shut, Brian smiled warmly at you, capturing your cheek in the palm of his hand. “I quite like her.”

“She’s trouble,” you mentioned with a grin, nuzzling into his hand and pecking it with your lips briefly. “But she’s the right kind of trouble.”

“Sounds just how I would describe you right now,” Brian mentioned, his eyes swirling with a growing need. You knew that look all too well. It had been what had you pinned against a wall first thing this morning.

Maybe Lily was right. Your kissing sessions were only growing longer, more laboured and filling you with a desire you wanted to keep exploring.

Tugging on Brian’s hand, you made your way down to your bedroom with what you hoped to be an alluring smile.

He stopped, but only to scoop you up in his arms. “Oh, you’re definitely the right kind of trouble to have, Miss Writer.”

Despite all your efforts, the story still sat at a standpoint. You had encouraged Brian for input, and once again, you were both seated at your desk, pouring over options for the start of the story.

“It’s not working,” you complained, dropping your head to your tabletop in despair.

“We’ll find a way,” Brian said, though he looked concerned. With your realisation of this, he cleared his throat and ruffled your hair. “Honestly, how hard can this be? I’m the character, so I should know what I want to do next.”

“Do you?”

Brian slumped in his chair and shook his head. “Not a clue.”

“You, much like everyone else in this world, rely on me to write the script,” you stated, sadly and Brian rubbed at his face.

“You’re right. It’s what gave me direction, and it was the words you had started to write that helped me change the scene towards my benefit here and there.”

“So I need to write it. And you need to somehow appear whole again within the world.”

You each fell silent then, neither wanting to speak of what you had thought.

Over the past few days, you had fallen further for Brian. The love you felt for him was never-ending, and it worried you with how attached you had become to him so far. The idea of Brian ever returning to the world he came from made you sick to your stomach.

However, logic also made you realise that was where he needed to go for you to write Eternity. If he was missing from his leading role, how would you be able to pen the world in the way it was meant to be? Being at your side only delighted you, fulfilling your every need and desire.

But it wouldn’t make the story that he’d originally come from work.

You knew he was aware of this too.

Stepping out of the office without more than one line written, you both retired to the couch, sighing at separate intervals.

And then Brian turned to you. “Y/N, can we talk?”

“Always.”

“It’s not working, is it?” he murmured, and you nodded, feeling the rise of your emotions behind the backs of your eyes. You blinked, and he reached out to catch the first tear as it fell. “We’re working too well together here.”

“But the story isn’t at all,” you whispered, and Brian sighed again. “With you here, Charli and everyone else is suspended in air, waiting for your return. You exist in that world just as much as you exist here.”

“And I can’t be in both at the same time,” Brian admitted, and you dropped your head, tears spilling into your lap. “I have to go back, don’t I?”

“Maybe I don’t need to write this story. I have plenty of other ideas, and breaking out of the contract isn’t so bad, right? I mean, I’ll take a loss but I can afford to pay the publishing house-”

“Y/N,” he said, and you shook your head adamantly.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Do you think I want to either? I’m happier here than there. I want to be with you, not Charli, not in a world where I have a past that haunts me and people who want me dead. Here I can be just me. The guy who loves you.”

“You love me?” you asked, and stared up into Brian’s now glossy eyes. He smiled weakly. “Do you really love me, Brian Kang?”

“I love you,” he told you earnestly, and you leaned in to kiss him, desperation rolling between you both. It was rushed and messy, yet your hearts collided together in the middle, confirming the feelings you both had for one another. It made you want more, yearn for every part of the man you had come to love so easily in the flesh. You had loved him a whole lot longer than this, but now you could truly confirm that love came from his actions, and not how you wrote them.

Shifting back, as the tears somehow managed to still fall, your bottom lip wobbled. “I love you too.”

“Which is why you plan to send me away again, right?” Brian asked, choking on his own emotions. “I have to go so you can finish this world.”

“Can’t we just leave it?” you pleaded, and Brian shook his head. You mirrored the action, knowing you wouldn’t be satisfied either. This was a world you had created, and you couldn’t just leave it without answers to the questions you had raised so far.

“Will you come back to me?”

“As soon as you’ve written the very last word,” Brian promised, kissing your temples as you both began to cry.

Clinging onto him, Brian attempted to soothe your wild sobs, rubbing at your back whilst burying into you himself. It was heartbreaking, like any typical angst scene. You knew it had to happen for character growth, and yet this was a pinnacle moment for sheer pain. Your whole body ached at the mere concept of parting from him.

“It’s not as if I’ll leave you for good, Y/N,” Brian mentioned, as if he read your thoughts. “I’ll always be right here with you. Through the screen. You’ll see me, during moments where I go along with your story plans, and at the times I test them. You’ll know I’ll be there supporting you, and your choices in writing Eternity to the very end.”

“I know, but you won’t be here, holding me like this anymore either,” you told him, and Brian grew silent, knowing whatever he could think of to calm you now, wouldn’t. “We don’t know what will happen if you go back. Will you be able to leave me notes like last time? Or will the story suck you back in and keep you there, at Charli’s side and not mine?”

“I’ll find my way back to you, Y/N. You know I will,” Brian urged, and you held onto that hope, leaning in to kiss him once more. “I don’t want to live in a world where I’m not with you.”

“I know,” you agreed, nodding into him. Words seemed pointless now, both of you overwhelmed by the decision.

Eventually, Brian helped you up, taking you down the hallway to your bedroom, and laying with you as he had started to do recently. Somehow, you fell into dreams, of you and Brian together, married, with children and living out your domestically and homely life together. He was right. You didn’t aspire to be in the front limelight of anything apart from your simple goals in life.

With him at your side.

Yet, when the morning shone through, and you opened your eyes, you were alone in bed.

And there laid a note on the pillow Brian had once rested his head upon.

I love you, Y/N. I will come back to you as soon as I can.

As the tears formed in your eyes, you got up from your bed and went into the office, staring at the open screen of your laptop. Waking it up, there was the document for Eternity waiting for you to continue.

The words finally came.

_________________

Part 9

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling at the Seams Pt 26

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: this is, sadly, the last part to this story. Thank you all for reading, liking, and commenting. I can’t explain how much that means to me. I loved writing this and I am sad to see it end. But! There are some potential tie ins to come ;) 

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header

Catch Up Here

Back in London for the summer, possibly the rest of the year, except for a few press tours and maybe a small vacation made things a little more relaxed and definitely content. Filming for The Witcher had wrapped in May, a bittersweet moment. Although there was a confidence that Netflix would order a second season, they'd be crazy not to. In the mean time Henry had taken a role for a film centering around the famed Holmes Family. Portraying Sherlock in a story about the great detective's younger sister Enola.

Period costumes were always a treat, despite having a fraction of the control that she did with Geralt; Nell was holding it together. She'd come to like being in charge, who knew it was where she truly shined? Working with Henry was fantastic, as well, they had an excellent team surrounding them and work never felt like work.

Ivan had accompanied his parents almost daily, hanging out with his mother in the costume department, while Henry was on set. The odd day he would ask to stay home, though it was rare he wasn't milling around watching or blushing like a tomato when a certain young lady spoke to him. Poor kid, he had inherited Henry's bashfulness when it came to women.

A rare day off between press and filming, called for one thing and one thing only. Sleeping in.

Nothing short of an Earth Shattering disaster was pulling Henry from his bed before 10am. Ivan had been under strict instructions that if he woke first, take Kal out, then go watch tv or read a book. There were things he could eat without using a stove, he'd be fine on his own for a few hours. If the house was in danger, come wake an adult.

Snuggling into Henry's back Nell sighed and yawned. She'd spent nearly the entire night with her face squashed into his shoulder blades, too comfortable to move. Fighting her eyes to stay closed, she whimpered, it was too early to be awake. The sun was gently streaming through the crack in the dark curtains, wretched thing, casting a light across the room. Scrunching her eyes shut, she wrinkled her nose.

“Too early,” Henry whispered, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep. “Back to sleep, my darling.”

“I'm trying.” Nell groaned, kissing his shoulder. “What time is it?”

“9:45,” Reading the clock beside his head, Henry groaned and rolled slightly not wanting to crush Nell behind him. He'd grown nearly three sizes since last summer, a wall of solid muscle, if he got any bigger Nell would be sleeping on the couch because the bed was only so big.

“Close enough,” She scooted back, her head resting on the soft pillow. Gently pushing a stray curl away from Henry's eyes, she smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “I don't hear the wild boy and the bear, they must still be in bed.”

“Even if they're up, I locked the door last night.” Henry winked, a lazy smile on his face. Door locks for the bedroom were a fantastic invention, whoever came up with that idea had clearly been a parent. “They can knock and shout, if they need us.”

“You're learning, I like it.” Nell giggled, stretching her arms over her head. Groaning at the feeling of muscles releasing throughout her body. The air in the room slightly cool on her naked skin. “Do we have to get out of bed, yet?”

“Never,” Shaking his head, Henry wasn't ready to climb out of their little bubble yet. “I say we stay here forever.”

“Good, I will take that offer.” Placing a kiss on his soft lips, she smiled. Kissing him again, she wrapped her arm around his neck drawing him in. “I could do that forever, my love.” Gently playing with the mess of curls, Nell sighed feeling Henry's breath on her neck and shoulder.

“I could let you do that forever,” Henry grinned, giving her another kiss. His arms tightening around her back, holding her against him. She fit perfectly against his frame, a tiny detail that he loved.

Laying in bed, Henry smiled lazily, everything about her was perfect. God he loved this woman. Everything about her made his heart swell and – he groaned, at the phone buzzing on the stand beside him. It was a day off. No phones before noon.

“Go ahead.” Nell encouraged, pulling the sheet up around her. “It could be important.”

Reaching for the phone, Henry frowned seeing the text. The name on the screen sent his heart racing, his mouth dry, and his palms sweaty. Reading the text, he felt the tension and fear melt. To think he'd almost missed this good news. Quickly replying, he continued to smile.

“That was Donna.” Henry beamed placing his phone back on the stand. “We have the house.”

“What?”

Not even a month ago they had agreed that London was lovely, but what they really needed was a place to unwind. A permanent residence where Ivan and Kal could run wild and not worry about neighbours or limited space. Somewhere with room inside and out. They'd found a charming farm house, enough room for an office, a spare bedroom, and of course a game room. The gardens were maintained and unlike any garden Nell had seen before – she was ready to offer listing price on the spot, until logic set in.

Ivan and Kal had gone along to see the potential new dwelling the last time Henry and Nell had gone, both of them had seemed happy enough with the choice. Ivan had been talking for weeks, about the things he could do in a place like that. There had been four potential places and the third one had been it. The second they had walked in, they'd fell in love.

They would keep the current house, allowing them to be in London whenever they pleased, as Nell had made the official decision to keep and continue renting out her house.

“We have a few things to tie up, before we can move in of course, but we now own a country home.” Henry repeated the news. “We'll have to set up a date to go and finalize things, but it's been agreed upon.”

“This is fantastic! Oh, our first party can be an engagement party.” Nell beamed, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“You're serious about that?” Cautiously Henry tip toed around the words. In the past such a notion would have left him brokenhearted.

“I wouldn't have asked you to marry me, if I wasn't.” Nell smirked.

“The phrase we should get married, while catching up on Younger isn't exactly asking me to marry you.” Henry rolled his eyes, Nell stuck out her tongue. “Although, I didn't say no. So...”

It was a spur of the moment. In the moment and now, the morning after, it felt right. She had casually thrown out the idea, ignoring Liza and Kelsey having their millionth catastrophe, grabbing Henry's attention enough that he had reacted with a laugh. When he'd asked if she were serious, Nell had shrugged and told him that it certainly wasn't a joke.

Why shouldn't they get married?

If he declined, she would understand, so long as they agreed to remain together. You didn't need a piece of paper and some rings to prove you loved somebody, but it would still be nice. In an old fashioned way.

“So? I am assuming that means yes. Yes, you will marry me.” Giggling, Nell leaned into him, her fingers dancing across his chest. Small wisps of hair tickling under her fingers. “Do you not want to marry me?”

“I never said that,” Henry shook his head, watching her through hooded eyes. “I would thoroughly enjoy marrying you.”

“Good, because I think I would enjoy it, too.”

“You really want to get married?” Extending his arm, inviting Nell to snuggle in, Henry kissed the top of her head when she laid against his shoulder.

“I do. But, we don't have to discuss this right now. I know it's probably not how you imagined the proposal going, I need to work on timing.” She shrugged tilting her head to look at him. “Henry William Dalgliesh Cav-...”

A banging on the door, as the knob rattled, caused Nell to pause. Damn it. Henry laughed, his body shook and he did little to hide his amusement despite Nell's annoyance.

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan called from the other side of the door. “Dad? Dad!”

“What?” Henry called back, shaking his head at their son.

“Kal and I were wondering when we could go to the park?”

“After lunch.” Nell called through the door. Nudging Henry, she gestured to the door. “Why not let them in, if not he's going to stand out there and yell.”

“Fine, but only because it's after 10.” Henry kissed the top of her head, stretching and getting out of bed. Nell watched him pull on a pair of shorts, every muscle in his body moving in unison. Unlocking the door, he stood with it open a crack, looking into the hall at Ivan and Kal. Watching him intently, Kal yipped and Ivan narrowed his gaze. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

“I'm hungry. I've already had a bowl of cereal, but I want something else. Kal ate, but I think he's hungry too. Are you going to stay in bed all day?”

“If we do?”

“I'm going to call Granny and tell her. It's late and you should be up, be productive and not a lazy bones.” Ivan chastised.

Behind the door Nell laughed. Tying her dressing gown, she shook her head, watching Henry deal with the lecture. Resting her head against Henry's back, she peek around him to see Ivan and Kal in the hall.

“Mum, stop kissing dad and come make my something to eat. I'm starving.”

“I doubt you are starving, wild boy, besides you were told that we were sleeping in. It's not like we ever get to do it.” Nell rolled her eyes.

“Run along downstairs, well be down in a moment.”  Leaving Ivan and Kal with their instructions, Henry gently shut the door on the pair. Parental life had given Henry a new appreciation for Nell and all that she'd done over the years and was continuing to do.

Dressing gown on the end of the bed, Nell traded it in for her favourite shorts and a well loved tshirt. Ready to semi face the day, she ran her fingers through her hair and watched Henry with amusement.

“Are you sure this is what you want? A lifetime of demands and dictatorship?” Nell teased, rubbing Henry's arm.

“We're in it now. May as well stick around, see how it all plays out.” He kissed her forehead, wrapping his arm around her in a gentle squeeze. “Besides, he'll be gone soon. Only a few more years and we can overthrow him.”

“Ah, yes.” Nell nodded in playful agreement. “I forgot, boarding school. You know, you English may be on to something with that.”

“We're smarter than the average bear.” Henry shrugged. “In the meantime, shall we go feed the beasts? Take them to the park and then tell them our good news?”

“Lovely idea, shall we?”  

To think merely a year ago, they were living separate lives. Had someone told Henry, when he'd arrived in Dublin to visit Ivan, they would be talking about marriage and buying a quaint place in the country – he would have laughed in their face. Nell sighed, rubbing her eyes, feet hitting the last step. Surveying the house, she was satisfied that Ivan and Kal hadn't made too much of a mess. Eventually they would have more space, allowing them to run wild whenever they felt the need.

“What's on your mind?” Henry rested his chin on the top of her head, bumping into her as she'd stopped.

“How fortunate we are. It's silly, but I'm glad that you came to visit the wild boy last summer.” She shrugged, waiting for Ivan to realize his parents were downstairs. “Had he came here...”

“You would have been learning to speak Danish?” Henry laughed lightly, wincing when Nell turned and smacked him in the chest. A little harder than she'd intended.

“Alex is a sweet guy, I won't deny that.” Through the grape vine and instagram, she knew that he'd been seeing someone and was insanely happy. She didn't wish him ill, in fact quite the opposite. Alex was a fantastic person, who deserved everything good in life.  “But, I'm not sorry things worked the way they did.” Nell shrugged, gently rubbing the spot she'd smacked. “I am sorry it took me so fucking long.”

“Hey, no.” Shaking his head, Henry lifted her hands in his. Kissing the back of her hands, he smiled. “It doesn't matter, because that was then. This is now. From now on, we go forward.”

“I like that,” melting into his smile, Nell felt the warmth rising in her cheeks. “From now on...”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Cutting in, Ivan slowly drug his feet across the floor, a frown on his face while he rubbed his belly. “I'm hungry. Can you make pancakes?”

“Can you stop and let your father and I speak, for two seconds?”

“You weren't talking, you were probably kissing again.” He made a disgusted face, stalking off to the kitchen.

Since his mother had moved in full time, the only thing his parents wanted to do was kiss, and whisper things that made each other laugh. Rolling his eyes, Ivan called for Kal, at least he still had one buddy. Adults.

“Shall we feed them, before he decides to call in reinforcement?” Henry chuckled, taking Nell's hand and walking to the kitchen.

“I'm not scared of your mother.” Nell laughed, nudging Henry with her hip.

“Really? I am.” Barking a laugh, Henry snorted. “You're a brave lady, Janelle Stewart.”

“Am I?”

“Absolutely, the bravest. Even better is that you're my brave lady.”

“Okay, alright. I see where this is going. Grab me a bowl, you can flirt with me later.” She winked, going through the cupboard to find the ingredients for Ivan's pancakes. “And go put on a shirt, if you're going to help me cook. Otherwise I get distracted.”

Teasingly mocking her, Henry handed over the ceramic bowl, placing a kiss on her cheek before disappearing to find the required shirt. On his way to find the rest of his clothing, he was temporarily distracted by Ivan and Kal. Watching from around the corner, Nell shook her head and laughed, Ivan was standing on the arm of the couch climbing onto Henry's back. Chattering about his morning with Kal and the things they did, before waking his parents.

Chaos was a constant, though Nell didn't mind. It was what made life interesting, the laughter and shouting would likely piss off a neighbour or two, though Henry didn't seem to care and Ivan had no care in the world. Kal jumped at Henry's feet, yipping, and wagging his tail as he tried to rescue Ivan from his piggy back. Sneaking a photo or two, Nell watched father and son continue on with whatever game they were playing.

This would be one of the personal moments that, eventually, Henry would decide to share with the world. Nell couldn't blame him, Ivan was rather personable and he seemed to enjoy the attention. Who knew Ivan would  soak in the spot light so easily?

“Mum!” Ivan called between his fit of laughter. “Momma, I need help. Mum!”

“I'm coming, I'm coming.” Nell laughed, taking her time to saunter to the rescue. “What's going on in here, hmm?”

“I am trying to train this dragon, but he's too strong.”

“You attacked me, I am simply trying to fight off the troll.” Henry spoke with the most deadpan expression Nell had ever saw.  Raising his brow, he smirked backing up to the couch, Ivan taken off guard yelped when Henry shrugged hard dropping him on the cushions.

“Bad dragon!” Ivan wheezed laughing, trying to avoid Kal who was instantly there to lick his face and make sure he was okay. “Kal! No! Kal!”

“Right, now that I have defeated the Troll King and fed him to my furry beast, shall I grab the queen and we escape?” holding out his hand to Nell, winking, Henry glanced at Ivan still trying to assure Kal that he was fine.

“Is this the part where the queen kisses the dragon, releasing some sort of terrible curse, revealing that he was a handsome knight all along?”

Henry nodded, comically puckering his lips. “It is.”

“Ah!”

“No! No more kissing! You two are disgusting! No, mum stop. Dad, please.” Ivan pretended to gag for the millionth time this morning. Adults were so gross.

“Tis but a peck,” Henry declared.

Nell laughed. “Alright, serious now. Why don't you two get dressed, I will make breakfast, and then we can go out for the rest of the morning.”

“Fine, but no more kissing.” Ivan grumbled, allowing Henry to help him off the couch. Kal on their heels, Ivan asked his father if he wanted to race to the top of the stairs. Thundering up the stairs, Nell watched the two of them disappear at the top. Shouts and laughter trickling back down to meet her.

For a few seconds, Nell stood listening to Henry, Ivan, and Kal playing upstairs. Running around, shouting, and not at all doing what she'd asked. Not that it mattered. They were happy, all of them. Listening to Henry charge across the hall, Nell laughed when Ivan screeched like some sort of mythical creature, causing Kal to bark loudly.

The four of them, taking on the world, conquering whatever came along. Mythical or real. This was life now, this is what it should have been all along. Nell sighed, only forward from now on. She liked that. The past was that, left behind to be a memory all while new ones were made. Over head, Ivan's feet passed, he was running to his parents' bedroom. Kal was behind him, the big dog as excited as the boy he chased.

Henry had a way of instigating the two of them, riling them up, and taking great pleasure in the screaming and shouting that followed in the games they played. Nell smiled to herself, carefully measuring out the flour of Ivan's pancakes.

These mornings were the greatest. Hell, her life was the greatest.

This is how it was supposed to be.

@shannygoatgruff  @funmadnessandbadassvikings @kawennote09 @smutgoblin  @nickysurfer28  @peaceisadirtyword @igetcarriedawaywithyou @lif3snotouttogetyou @akamaiden @angelaiswriting @neeadinghugs @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @ilvebeenabad @naaladareia @imgoldielikehawn @tephi101 @sdcyumyum @unacceptabletatertots @titty-teetee @smolasianwinterbean  @capitanostella  @captstefanbrandt @bloodyivar   @normanallthewayforever   @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme  @imyourliquor-youremypoison @nikky-the-writer   @seremedyxiii @laketaj24  @deleteidentity @tornupandbored  @hoeghfabulous @ateliefloresdaprimavera @mydarlingwhim   @kenzieam @angelswannawearmyredshooz  @manuugxlvis   @lostinmythoughs  @ivars-snowflake   @lisinfleur   @fumblingthroughchaos @pebblesz892 @nothingeverdies @bluearchersstuff  @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone  @ivarlothbroks  @badassbaker @cris101071 @fucktrucks @ohjules @mrsadrianraines @angelic-kisses13 @lol-haha-joke @marthasantos95 @hows-my-hair @omgshuddupmeg @moviegirl50 @havenoffandoms @gearhead66 @happydaysandersen @rekdreams-fandom @lovemylife2618 @supernaturalvikingwhore @heavenly1927 @zoe-rachel-crisp @blogandreea11 @shileen91 @geekandbooknerd  @mzliterarydreamer @youbloodymadgenius @carlya65 @sawendel @magic-and-the-macabre @artemiseamoon  @vicmackeybullshxt @flowerthug @henchry @littlefreya @mitzwinchester @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @h-e-a-v-y-l-e-a-t-h-e-r @dogshemp @mytbel0st @peakygroupie @magdelen69 @s-ravenall  @viking-raider @sciapod @intototaloblivion @hcfavoritegal @didiintheblog @daniig95 @badwolf-in-the-impala @mariahill2001 @charlieferret @michelle-1185 @henryfanfics101 @agniavateira @oqueequesentes-borboletas @mis-lil-red @lebguardians @cherrybloomn @omgkatinka @tsukuyomi011  @kaitieskidmore1  @anndreaae @dearlybelovedluke @p3nny4urth0ught5 @tinychemicals @mary-ann84 @townmoondaltwistle @buckysgoldenheart @thethirstyarchive @meowpurrbooks  @hell1129-blog @nuns-and-roses @vikingsbifrost @comboboo @onlyhenrys @obsessedwithcavill @evnscvll @newfanhasenteredthechat @leilabeaux @speakerforthedead0​ @marswritings

- if you want to be added? removed, please let me know

(sorry if this hasn’t been tagging people. IDK what is up but tumblr is a prick, It’s telling me you are all tagged, but then shows the links didn’t work, but shows they did ugh)

[velvetdestroya]

A Vigil, On Birds and Glass. I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended. I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure- I made coffee. As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day. As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows. Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions. Smack. Smack. Smack! I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap. We cheered. I was no longer sad. I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would. It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth. I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death. The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you. So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty. Love. This was always my intent. My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013 We were spectacular. Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation. There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital- And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us- Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope. Fatalism. That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception. Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point. No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit. To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll. I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough). I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason- When it’s time, we stop. It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway. You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music. Now- There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor. There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets… I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy. We get the cue to hit the stage. The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong. I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade. All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say. What it said is between me and the voice. I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage. Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own. There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims- That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned? With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes. And another opens- This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle. A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device. He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it- “This amp talks.” he said. I smiled. We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home. When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles. I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton. He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say. In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you. I feel Love. I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with- Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod. Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing- My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die. It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you. I always knew that, and I think you did too. Because it is not a band- it is an idea. Love, Gerard

(Source Rock Sound March 25, 2013) [photo credit; ashley bird]