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pedrito-friskito · 2 months

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// track 9 - the prophecy //

-> can I write a fic about din djarin without piling on the exposition? absolutely not. also bonus, this is my submission/entry/funtime for @prolix-yuy’s #bangathon2024! the wheel bestowed upon me the placid embrace, and I embraced the HELL out of it. fair warning this is unedited, I’m squeaking under the bangathon deadline here, but I had an idea and I ran with it! hope y’all enjoy 🤍

word count: 8.4k

warnings: canon-typical violence (a bit bloodier), possibly slightly OOC din djarin, descriptions of female body, unprotected p-in-v (wrap your shit in space too ok), din has a lot of feelings and has zero idea what they mean, the helmet comes off, reader is a seer/has visions, still not sure if I love the ending but here goes nothing!

He just can’t seem to catch a break.

“I don’t have the parts,” the smith is telling him, looking at Din’s broken vambrace with a pinched brow. “I can order ‘em in, but it’ll take a day or so to get ‘em here, another day or two to fix it. You gonna be here in four days?”

He takes the hunk of metal back, sliding his hand through the opening with a shake of his helmet, securing it back around his wrist. “Thank you for your time.”

The market is bustling with people. He can’t remember how long it’s been since he was on Batuu, but Black Spire Outpost is the same as it was the last time he touched the Crest down for repairs and refuelling. Except this time, there’s a tracking fob at his hip, a puck detailing his current bounty tucked into one of the pockets on his belt. The fob has been beeping slowly since he disembarked at the port, reluctantly paying the obscene amount of credits it cost to leave his ship for a day.

Not that it matters — the amount he’ll make on this job more than covers it. Two times over and then some. Once he delivers, he can go back to Nevarro, get his armour fixed, and onto the next one. The cycle continues, such is the life of a bounty hunter.

It’s not the life he would have picked for himself, he muses as he makes his way through the Outpost. But then, he wonders how many people in this galaxy have the lives they would have chosen, given the chance. Even the one he’s hunting.

Especially the one he’s hunting.

Din had been half-listening to Karga’s regular spiel about the bounty, but his ears perked up at the number of credits waiting for him at the finish line. “The ones who ordered the bounty, what planet are they from?”

“Savareen,” Karga had replied with a slight shudder. “Some backwater place on the Kessel Run. Don’t know how this coven got their hands on enough credits for something like this, but I know better than to ask questions. And the bounty isn’t on Savareen. She escaped and made it to Batuu somehow; I’m fuzzy on the details. All I know is the intel we have has her there still, and she killed both the fighters the witches sent after her. Feisty thing.”

“They didn’t give you anything else?”

“Only that she’s very valuable and they need her back before the next full moon.”

He’d slid the bounty puck across the table to Din then, the hologram flickering to life as he did. The face before him was too young, too innocent. You’d killed two fighters? Looking at you, Din wondered if you knew which end of the blaster to hold. But he held his tongue; he’d judged other bounties too quickly in the past, and had the scars to prove it.

Continuing through Black Spire, Din keeps his head down, but his eyes peeled. The fob is still beeping slowly, but as he turns down an alley, away from the busy market, the noise picks up. He keeps going, coming to a stop ahead of a small group of people. He lingers back, not making himself obvious as he observes.

An elderly man with a thick beard stares up at the sky, murmuring under his breath while two younger people seem to hang on his every word, holding his arms up for him. More people sit on the ground before the man, all staring at him intently.

The cloaked figure hanging at the edge of the group, hood obscuring their face, catches his attention. Their stance is tight, nervous, feet shuffling in the dirt with every word the elderly man says. To an untrained eye, they would look no different than Din himself, observing the group, lingering at the edge. But Din knows better.

The figure takes off as he takes a single step forward, hand resting on his blaster. In a flutter of dark fabric, he takes off after them, dodging the enthralled people on the ground, careful not to knock anyone over as he darts up the alleyway.

The fob is beeping rapidly now, quickening with every inch he gains on the cloaked figure, on you.

He grunts beneath his helmet, arms pumping as he runs, legs burning with exertion. He can’t remember the last time he sprinted after a bounty.

You’re relentless, taking hard lefts and rights any chance you get, but your scared movements are predictable, and Din finds it too easy to follow you, despite his racing heart and the sweat gathering on the back of his neck beneath his helmet. But your constant turning leads the chase back into the heart of the Outpost, and you’re moving too fast to stop from sliding into the large cart that pulls out suddenly into your path.

Din winces at the crash, your body crumpling to the ground and the cart’s contents pouring over your head. The merchant pushing the cart tries to help you up, but Din is quicker, hiding his heaving chest by straightening his shoulders, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” the merchant starts, and Din lifts a hand, silencing him as he pulls a set of cuffs from his belt and slaps one around your wrist. You don’t fight him, surprisingly, offering your other wrist for him to clasp the cuff around. He’s grateful you can’t see his expression, the mix of confusion and surprise that has his brows shooting up beneath the helmet.

Strange.

He flicks the merchant a credit. “Did half the job for me,” he says, and grabs you by the shoulder, maneuvering around the stalled cart and back in the direction of the Razor Crest.

You don’t protest, keeping pace beside him, the corner of your mouth twitching as you walk. “You took longer than I thought you would, Mandalorian.”

The visions started when you were small.

They’ve always been a part of you, long as you can remember, and before you knew their true purpose, you thought them dreams, blips of darkness that occasionally came to call, taking you over and leaving you with knowledge that, most of the time, you didn’t want.

You were only seven when your family gave you to the coven. Your parents — scared of you, scared of the truths that spilled from your lips, truths you had no right knowing — sent you off without a second thought, assured by the coven’s leader that they would do right by you, that you’d grow to control your gifts, and could someday return home to Naboo a different girl.

But the control never came. The visions only grew more sporadic when you were under the coven’s care. They cared for you, that much was true — they fed and clothed you, gave you a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in. Someone watched you constantly, and anytime a vision struck, you were to immediately relay what you saw, provide as many details as you could, and on life would go.

Twenty years later, and still your control has not surfaced. But something changed.

The visions showed you the truth. You don’t know what gods are watching over you, if the Maker has any hand in it, but you know what you saw.

From the moment you had been handed over to the coven’s care, they had been poisoning you. Your drinking water sullied with a rare toxin from plants only native to Savareen. The toxin blocked out any control you might have over the visions, leaving you at their mercy. And you weren’t the first — they’d done it to a hundred seers before you. You just happened to have lasted the longest.

Anything you saw that was of use, names you couldn’t make sense of or planets you’d never been to, was cross-referenced across the coven’s expansive database of knowledge, created by the seers’ visions. And anything of true import was fed directly to the Empire.

And if you revealed what you knew, the truth of their game unraveled, they’d sacrifice you in the name of their god, as they had with every seer come before you.

When the vision finally released you, your warden of the day ready to record what you’d seen, you spat out a lie. A pretty one, with as much detail as you could muster that wouldn’t sound suspicious. The lakes on Naboo you once swam in, cool water warmed by the sun, the glint of sunlight off metal. A dream you’d had many times. Your warden seemed to believe it, scribbling away in a journal before sending you on your way.

It was obvious, what needed to be done. If you wanted to live, you needed to leave.

Easier said than done, unfortunately. The coven lived in a commune deep in the Savareen forests. Far from any marketplaces or spaceports. You would be travelling for days just to get away from them, and days longer until you came upon anything of use.

So it became a process — quietly gathering what supplies you could, explaining it away when your warden questioned you, sneaking around in the night while the coven slept. The first time an opportunity presented itself, you grabbed your things and ran, ducking away under the cover of dark.

More than a week, you walked. You rationed the food you’d taken, slept on the hard ground with a knife in your hand. You only slept a few hours at a time, forcing yourself to your feet and travelling another few hours before allowing yourself more rest. The further you got, the better.

You drank only fresh water from the streams, boiled over a fire to make it safe, and as you travelled, something akin to control settled over you like a blanket. The visions still surfaced, peeling away the edges of your mind, but they were easier to push back, easier to hold at bay until you had a moment to entertain them, to watch with a keen eye rather than a startled one.

You saw him on your fifth night. Stopped at the edge of the forest, the desert spread out before you, you rested. The coven elders rarely let anyone past the commune’s borders, though you knew they’d send someone after you. But that night, your visions promised peace, a good night’s sleep beside your small fire, the blanket of stars and moons above you standing vigil.

So you let the vision take over. You saw a helmeted man, his armour having seen better days. Your mind recalled the style of the armour, a holo-pads the coven used to educate you about the galaxy as you grew — or to make your visions more potent, you wondered now.

A Mandalorian.

A torn cloak fluttered behind him, a rifle strapped to his back. As you watched, he held out one gloved hand to you, the other lifting his helmet just enough to expose his mouth — unfairly full lips and a patchy beard. His name whispered on the wind, a voice that sounded like your own.

Din Djarin.

He stepped toward you, hand still outstretched, closer and closer until the warmth of his palm cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping your cheek.

“Safe,” he whispered, the word sinking into your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite understand.

And then the vision faded. You came back to yourself, to your small fire and your blanket of stars, and without another thought, you slept.

The moment you reached the spaceport — if you could even call it that — you snuck onto the first cargo ship you spotted, tucked yourself in with the crates and hid the best you could. It didn’t matter where it was headed, you just needed out.

The cargo ship brought you to Jabiim, and it was safe, for a time. You stole when you needed to, found the odd merchant willing to pay you for a day’s work, sold the few things you’d taken from the coven for credits. You holed up in a boarding house, flexing your control over your visions like training a muscle.

You waited for your Mandalorian to appear.

He didn’t, but two of the coven’s warriors did.

They couldn’t have known the visions had warned you. Couldn’t have known that you’d booby-trapped every inch of your room in the boarding house. They didn’t know you’d seen not only that they’d come for you, but the how and the when, that you knew how you’d keep yourself alive.

It was bloody business, and had you slipping out the back door before morning came, hiding on the next cargo ship that left the spaceport.

And the cycle continued, until you landed yourself on Batuu.

You haven’t been here long. Black Spire is the biggest outpost you’ve ever seen — not that you’ve seen many to compare it to — and it works to your advantage at first, offering a plethora of trails to lose your pursuer. You know it’s him, knew it was him the moment he stepped up to the group of people listening to that old man preaching about the stories in the stars. The tinted armour, each piece damaged in some way, the pristine helmet. The way he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall was familiar to you, and your chest fluttered with the word he’d murmured to you in your vision.

Safe.

Except, you’re anything but. You can hear the beeping, see the way his hand hovers over his blaster. As soon as you see an opening, you take it, and it’s almost enough.

Until that cart comes out of nowhere — you didn’t see that in any vision — and knocks you on your ass. You give your hands over willingly to the Mandalorian when he hauls you to your feet, letting him cuff you, start to drag you off through the Outpost.

You try to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips. “You took longer than I thought you would, Mandalorian.”

He seems to balk at your claim, his shoulders going tight, not that you can see his expression. But you can imagine those full lips clear as day, the patchy beard, the bare spots the perfect size for your thumb to fit into.

Strength and a certain kind of ferocity seems to roll off of him, pushing every person out of your way as he leads you back toward his ship. Your head throbs with every step, your tongue numb where it got caught between your teeth when the cart hit you. It makes your blanket of control waver, a hole appearing in your armour, and your pulse quickens.

The Mandalorian all but pushes you up the ramp and into his ship. It’s nothing fancy, full of spare parts and rusted metal, but when he steers you toward the back of the ship, you see the carbonite chamber, people of every species encased in black, their expressions pained. Your heart is in your throat, rioting around, making your palms sweat.

“Go,” he tells you, gesturing at the empty platform in front of you, the chamber’s tubes steaming as he flicks a switch.

“P-please,” you manage to squeak out. Your control is gone, replaced with fear and anxiety. You pull against the cuffs, trying to turn your body away from the machine, but it’s too late.

The vision takes over, and everything goes dark.

Din catches you before you hit the ground.

In an instant, you shift from every other pleading bounty he’s shoved into the carbonite chamber, into something more. Your eyes roll back in your head, your body going limp, and it’s a miracle he manages to grab you before your head cracks off the metal. But he does it, grunting with the effort, wincing when he feels the jab of your shoulder in the crook of his elbow.

And he freezes.

Something in his chest goes tight, a taut string that has his ribs in a vice. It whispers that he knows you, that he’s seen your face a million times before even though this is the first day he’s ever set eyes on you. Like a part of his heart calls for yours.

It makes him stumble back a step, jostling you, your body leaning more fully into his. He’s enveloped in your warmth, the scent of you sneaking beneath his helmet, tormenting him.

I know you I know you I know you.

His gloved hand shakes as he brushes the hair from your forehead, looking at your face more fully. He studies you, the slope of your nose and the fan of your lashes. He has half a mind to take his gloves off, to feel your hair slip between his knuckles. The blood in the corner of your mouth makes something like panic shoot through him and he slips his other arm behind your knees, lifting you up and off the ground.

It takes some maneuvering, using his elbow to jab the button that lifts the door to his bed. He lays you out carefully, reaching for the medkit he keeps stashed near his pillow. He pushes back the strange feeling, focusing on the task at hand. He’s dealt with his fair share of head injuries, knows how precarious they can be. And he’s figured it out, over time — the best place to put the bacta patches, what mednog helps more than it hinders.

Din places the last of four patches behind your ear, right along the curve of your neck. You let out a quiet hum, arching your head into his palm, and he inhales deeply.

“I know you,” he murmurs, and doesn’t quite realize he’s said the words out loud until your lashes flutter, eyes shooting open and your body following suit. “Easy,” he commands, grabbing your shoulders, making you flinch. “You’re alright, just don’t move too fast.”

Your breath comes in short bursts, and Din realizes there are tears lining your eyes, one single drop sliding down your cheek. His fingers itch to brush them away, but he resists the urge, releasing you and curling them into fists instead.

Your eyes finally land on him, and the corner of your mouth twitches, like it had in the Outpost.

“Who are you?” he asks. You know her, his mind counters.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you retort, rubbing a hand across the back of your neck. You must find the bacta patch, because your brow furrows. “You…helped me?”

“Don’t think much of it,” he tells you, bracing his hands on his knees and pushing himself up off the cot. “I’m taking you back to Savareen.”

He sees the fear cover you like a veil, watches it pinch at your eyes and tug at your lips. The feeling rears its head, screaming at him that he’s doing wrong, but he beats it back.

“Please,” you say again, the same squeak you’d let out before you passed out in the carbonite chamber. “Please don’t take me back. They’re going to kill me, they’ll—”

“They’re paying me a ridiculous amount of credits to bring you back,” Din answers, cutting you off and turning his back on you. “And I’m gonna do just that.”

“At least listen to my side of the story,” you call after him. You pause a beat, and then— “Din Djarin.”

He can’t remember the last time he heard his name on a woman’s lips. Hearing it on yours is something else entirely.

His mind is at war with itself as he whirls. “How did you—?”

“Let me tell my side,” you reiterate, holding your hands up, surrendering. “And if you still want to take my back and collect your bounty, fine.”

He doesn’t say a word, but leans back on one foot, crossing his arms over his chest. You take it as a yes, leaning back slightly, straightening your back. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and Din clenches his teeth.

“I’m a seer,” you say slowly, eyes darting everywhere except his helmet. “I have visions. Always have, long as I can remember. I was born on Naboo, but my family gave me over to the Savareen coven when I was seven. They raised me, and it was all well and good until my visions told me the truth.”

You don’t continue right away, eyes finally landing on Din’s visor. “What truth?” he prompts.

“They were poisoning me,” you said, your voice shaking. “And the poison took away my control of the visions. A seer should be able to allow the visions to come when they wish, not be constantly at their mercy. They wanted me to see as much as I could, and everything I saw, the elders ran through their databases. Anything useful they fed to the Empire.”

The mention of the Empire makes him jump.

“And I’m not the first. They’ve done this to a hundred seers before me, and killed them all as soon as they figured out the truth. It’s a cycle, one I played into the moment I escaped. They know that I know the truth, and they’ll kill me for it and tell the rest of the coven that I was a willing sacrifice, for the safety of the rest of them.”

A sad laugh passes your lips, and Din’s chest feels hollow.

“And the worst part is: they’ll all believe them. The people that raised me, my friends, if you can call them that. They’ll believe I died willingly, for the greater good.”

You drop your face into your hands and everything in him begs him to comfort you, hold you, keep you safe.

No good will come of this, the rational part of him says. He could ruin his reputation with the Guild, and where would that leave him? Bounty hunting has always been his trade, his talent. He would go back to the Covert, ashamed.

But the sound of your voice has him quickly grasping for compromise. A final kindness, to please the beast in his chest.

“I’ll give you one thing,” he says, and your head shoots up. “One last…wish, I guess. Before I take you back.”

Din swears there are stars in your eyes. “A wish?”

He nods the helmet slightly. “Name it,” he says, “and don’t say setting you free.”

You think for a moment, a million emotions crossing your face before you seem to make your decision. “Naboo,” you say, your expression calm, almost serene. “Take me back to Naboo. I want to swim in the lake, like I did as a child. One last time, before I die.”

You think he’s going to fight you on it. You studied galactic maps with the coven, part of the studies they allowed, and you know just how far it is from Batuu to Naboo — you know it’s about the same distance as Batuu is from Savareen, in the complete opposite direction.

You wait for the no to reach your ears, for the disappointment and acceptance of your lot to settle in. But instead, he just nods again, turns on his heel and disappears from the ship’s hold, leaving you alone, still sitting on the edge of the Mandalorian’s bed.

A moment later, you hear the tell-tale hum of the ship’s engine. Another beat, and his voice sounds through the intercom beside the cot. “Get up here and strap yourself in. Don’t need you getting thrown around down there.”

Swallowing hard, you get to your feet and walking slowly toward the ladder he’d disappeared up. The rungs are cold beneath your hands, a reminder that this isn’t all a dream, or one of your visions.

He doesn’t turn his head when you step into the ship’s cockpit, doesn’t say a word as you settle into the chair in the corner of the space. You fumble with the belt straps, tightening them around you as his gloved hands move across the ship’s dashboard, pressing buttons and turning dials. The engine grows louder as the ship starts to hover, and you brace your hands on the armrests of your seat.

You’re both silent, the entire trip. After the initial jolt through hyperspace, you find the movement relaxing, and you don’t realize you’ve nodded off until you feel a warm hand on your ankle, the Mandalorian having reached for your outstretched foot to nudge you awake.

“The drop out of hyperspace can get a bit rocky around this sector.”

You nod at the warning, ignoring the sharp tug in your stomach at the rumble of his voice through his helmet. Adjusting yourself in the seat, you find yourself staring at the back of his helmet, the curve of the metal. When he turns his head to speak to you, you catch a glimpse of his chin, dipping as he talks.

“Hold on tight.”

The jolt makes you shut your eyes, gripping the armrests as tight as you can. The ship wavers and dips, the hull shaking and groaning with the effort and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“Almost there.”

You don’t open your eyes until the ship has stopped completely, the sound of the engine whirring into shutdown making your breath come easier. When you open them, you’re met with a lush forest, a clearing just large enough for the ship to touch down in.

Naboo.

You’re out of your seat in the flash, nearly tumbling down the ladder back into the hold, desperate to be out and breathing in the fresh air so close you think you could taste it. The Mandalorian follows at a slower pace, reaching around your bouncing form to activate the ramp and open the door.

“Don’t go far,” he tells you, warning lacing his tone. “If you—”

“I won’t leave your sight, Din Djarin,” you tell him, quietly revelling in the way his entire form stills at your use of his name. “I promise, you won’t need to chase after me.”

You leave him to ponder your words, and step out and into the sunlight.

He stands on the Crest’s ramp longer than he should, watching you step out into the clearing. He found a good spot to land, forest wrapping around, a large lake sprawled out before you. The air is warm, fresh, invading his senses.

He watches you take off toward the water, shedding your cloak and top as you go, tossing the fabric aside. The bare expanse of your skin makes his throat go tight, makes the waist of his flight suit feel tighter than normal. As you reach the water’s edge, you crouch to pull off your shoes, straighten to shuck your pants down your legs.

Din only gets a brief glimpse at your bare lower half before you’re sprinting into the water, your laughter loud enough to send birds to the skies, disturbed from their homes in the trees. Beneath the helmet, he smiles.

You swim for hours. Din lets you take your time, your excitement getting the better of him. He tracks your head along the surface of the lake, turns his gaze to the ground when you float on your back. Din calls you back when the sun starts to set, finds something resembling dinner from the crates and boxes in the Crest’s hold. He leaves a blanket at the water’s edge as you swim back, and you eat sitting side by side on the ship’s ramp, your warm body inches from his.

A million questions dance on his tongue, the heat gathering beneath his helmet spurred by the way you lick your fingers clean when you’re done eating, sucking the juice of the fruit he found off your thumb.

How did you know his name?

Why does he feel the way that he does?

Why does he know you?

The sun dips lower, painting the sky a brilliant array of colours, orange into yellow into lavender and back again. The air is still warm, but a cold breeze blows, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Or maybe it’s the way you rise from your seat, the blanket draped around your shoulders, the way the sun covers you in a glow. He watches you make your way back to the water’s edge, but when you’re halfway there, he stands and follows you.

Din pauses when you reach the shore, the blanket dropping into a puddle of fabric near your clothes. You’re backlit by the sun, a silhouette he wants to trace again and again. “You could join me,” you call over your shoulder, stepping further and further into the water. “The water’s warmer than the air, you know.”

“Helmet takes too long to dry out,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I—”

“You could take it off,” you tell him, and his blood spikes. He wants to.

He knows you.

Din looks at you, and you meet him eyes through the visor, whether you know it or not. “I’m a Mandalorian,” he answers, “I don’t—”

“I know what you are, Din Djarin,” you answer, and he wants to record the sound of your voice saying his name, play it on a loop over and over until he has it memorized. “But I’ll be dead this time tomorrow.” You wade out further into the water, until it laps against your chin. “The secret of your face dies with me.”

You turn away from him, disappearing beneath the surface and reappearing further out. The sun is nearly gone, the last dregs of the sunset fading from the sky, the stars and planets taking their rightful place. The water still has a certain glow about it, the sounds of frogs and other night creatures filling the silence of the clearing.

Before he can second-guess himself, he hooks his fingers in the edge of the helmet and takes it off.

“Don’t turn around,” he calls out, reaching up to release the clips holding his cloak to his shoulders. It slips to the ground and he leans down to set the helmet atop it. One by one, he sheds each piece of his armour. The chill in the air makes him shiver, goosebumps rising on his skin as he slides down the zipper on his flight suit. He’s acutely aware of his nakedness, his eyes glued to the back of your head, bobbing in the water.

You listen; you don’t turn around.

He can’t stop his sigh when he steps into the water. You weren’t lying — it’s warmer in the water than out, and he steps quickly, feeling the ground slope beneath his feet as the water rises to his knees, his waist, his chest. Then it evens out, and he realizes you’re standing on tiptoe in the middle of the lake, your arms floating at your sides, head tilted back as you stare up at the sky.

“I’ve seen so many things,” you murmur as he comes to a halt behind you, leaving a good few feet between your body and his. If he lets his eyes dip, he can make out your slightly blurred figure beneath the water’s surface, but he keeps his gaze on the crown of your head, your face upturned to the stars. “So many places and people in the furthest corners of the galaxy. Things I’ll never truly see, but I’ve seen them just the same.” You take a deep breath, raising your arms just enough that your hands break the surface of the water. “And yet, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the skies on Naboo. I remember swimming in a lake like this, as a child. Before they sent me away. I remember the stars looking just like this.” Your eyes flutter shut. “Thank you, for bringing me here. You’re a good man, Din Djarin. A better one than you allow the galaxy to believe.”

“How did you know my name?” he asks, the words spilling past his tongue before he can stop them. “How do you know my name?”

“I dreamt of you,” you say simply, as if it’s the most normal thing. You push your hands through your wet hair, and Din’s fingers long to copy you. “A long time ago, if we’re telling truths. Your face has come to me often —first when I was small, when we both were. I saw the destruction of your home world, though I didn’t know what I was seeing. I saw you pledge yourself to the Mandalorians, saw you earn your armour in the Covert. I dreamt of you long before I started running for my life. I always knew you’d be the one to find me, Din. The one to save me.”

It’s guilt, he realizes, that pools in his stomach, propels him forward until there’s barely any space between you. Until you’re close enough that he can hear your sharp inhale as he lifts his hand from the water, lets his dripping fingers trail up the curve of your shoulder, follow the curve of your neck to the space behind your ear, where he’d placed the bacta patch earlier. He’s so close he can feel the shiver that runs like a current through your body.

“Close your eyes,” he tells you, his voice a low rumble, “and keep them closed.”

You nod your head slightly, and he waits a beat before letting his fingers hook around your chin, using that leverage to turn you to face him. Your lips part gently, your breath warm on his skin. He drags the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, presses softly as you release another shaky exhale.

Din hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time. Longer than he cares to admit, and nervousness replaces his guilt as he tilts your face toward his. His hand rounds your head, cupping your skull in his palm, and your hair slides like wet silk through his knuckles.

The first kiss he gives you is soft. It’s tentative, your bottom lip captured between his, a quiet sound rising in your throat as he pulls away. Your lashes flutter slightly, but your eyes don’t open, and your hand reaches up, curling around the back off his neck and pulling him back down to you.

He grunts at the second kiss, your body inching closer to his beneath the water. His other hand finds purchase on your hip, digging his fingers into your flesh, and he swallows your groan, leaning deeper into your kiss, tightening his grip on your hair.

You give as much as you take, your free hand flattening against his ribs, your fingers fit in the spaces between his bones. The kiss is so familiar and so new, all at once. He’s done this a million times, and has never once done it before now.

I know you I know you I know you.

Pleasure shoots through him when your teeth scrape at his lip, your tongue darting out to soothe the ache you’ve left behind. It’s a welcome ache, and his hand drops from your hip to your thigh, hooking around the back of your knee and dragging your thigh over his waist. The sound you let out goes straight to his cock and he drops his lips from yours only to close his mouth around your pulse. You lean into him, both hands around his shoulders now, more soft noises of pleasure meeting his ears as he kisses a line up to the shell of your ear.

“When you dreamt of me,” he murmurs, your head leaning into the sound of his voice, “did you dream of all the ways I’d touch you?”

He accompanies his question with his fingers along the inside of your thigh, toward where he can feel you burning hot, your body warmer than the water that surrounds you both. Your lashes flutter again as you moan, digging your nails into his skin hard enough he’s sure you’ll leave little half-moon marks behind.

“This is better than anything I could ever dream up,” you whisper back, using your grip on him to pull your body flush to his. “I knew you’d find me, but I didn’t know you’d want me, that I’d want you.”

He pulls away, heart racing in his chest. Rejection flickers across your face, pinching your brow, but he grabs your hand beneath the water, squeezing. “Come with me.”

Din leads you out of the water, his grip tight on your hand. You still don’t open your eyes, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as he wraps you in the blanket and then leads you back toward the Crest. He brings you inside, back to his bed, and pushes at your shoulder until you’re sat at the edge.

“Don’t move.”

He head back out into the night, the sun now long gone, and collects his armour and your clothes. His body hums with need, leaving his armour on top of a crate, your clothes and his flight suit tossed into the fresher to deal with later. He closes the ramp, locks the door to the hold, and returns to where you’re still sat, the blanket tucked around you.

“Move back,” he tells you, and you obey instantly, letting the blanket fall away as you slide back on the mattress. Electricity shoots through him at the sight of you, the dim light above his bed a meagre replica of the sunset. He can’t stop himself from reaching out, dragging his hand up the centre of your body until he reaches your chest. He cups the weight of your breast in his palm, swipes his thumb over your nipple and revels in the way it peaks at his touch, the way you shiver as he does it again and again.

“Din,” you murmur, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head.

“Say it again.”

“Din.”

He leans over you, plants a hand on either side of your body as you lean back, your head resting on his pillow. Still, you don’t open your eyes.

He kisses you again, angles his head so his nose brushes along yours. You arch up into him as he settles some of his weight against you, making a home between your spread legs. He can feel how wet you are, the heat nearly radiating against his cock, and he can’t stop himself from rutting against you, burying his face in your neck and fitting his mouth to your pulse once more.

“I want to be inside you,” he murmurs, and your nod is nearly frantic.

“Please.”

Din lifts himself off you, leaning back to kneel between your legs. His palms ride the curve of your spread thighs, thumbs swiping at the crease of your hip. It makes your whole body twitch, and he swipes a finger along your cunt, the wetness coating his finger, and your back arches up off the mattress.

He sucks his finger clean. “Sweet,” he whispers, and you let out a soft whine, a whimper.

Hands dragging down your legs again, he curls his fingers around your calves and lifts your legs until your knees are hooked around his hips. He feels your ankles cross at the small of his back and leans forward slightly, taking his hard cock in hand, shuddering at his own touch.

“Open your eyes,” he tells you, hearing the hitch in your breath as he drags his tip through your wetness, “the moment I’m inside you. You understand?”

You don’t answer at first, writing against the blankets, but when he taps his cock lightly against your clit, you shudder. “I understand.”

Dragging down through your folds, he notches his cock at your entrance, pleasure making sparks shoot across his vision as he moves his hips ever so slightly. He reaches beneath you, both hands at your lower back, and lifts your hips off the mattress, holding you aloft as he drives into you.

Your eyes shoot open, and you see his face. His whole face.

And Gods above, he’s more handsome than you ever could have imagined.

Every moment since you stepped off the ship has been more than you could have dreamed, but seeing his face, studying those dark eyes as he pushes himself inside you, it’s everything.

His brows knit together as he forces himself deeper. Your body jolts with the movement and you bear down, tightening yourself around him. It makes him tip forward slightly, close enough that you can wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his dark hair.

The lips you remember, the patchy beard that scratches your skin when he turns his head and places a kiss against your wrist. His nose is different than you pictured, more hawkish with a scar cutting across the bridge. There are other scars too, littered across his chest and shoulders, a few even snaking down his front. You want to trace them all, memorize every ridge and dip.

He gives you a particularly hard thrust, and your vision goes white with pleasure. Your thighs quake with the intensity of it, feeling him drag against that sweet spot deep inside you. You tighten your grip on him, clenching your legs around his waist and keeping him where you want him.

“You feel…” he trails off, his lips parting as his hips roll into you over and over and over again. “I can’t…”

His groan spurs you on, lifting your hips off the mattress to meet his thrusts. The friction between your bodies grows more and more intense, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in a perfect rhythm. You can feel the pleasure growing, coiling at the base of your spine, and when he drops his head to your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple, you’re done for.

Your release rattles through you, seeming to draw Din’s from him. You shudder together, feeling the warmth of him spread through the deepest parts of you. He plants his head on your chest, hot breath fanned across your skin as you both move through it, limbs twitching and soft moans filling the air. He tries to pull himself from you too soon and you whine, refusing to loosen your hold on him.

Eventually, you let him go, instantly regretting your decision when the welcome weight of him moves off of you. He disappears for a time, but returns with a damp cloth from the fresher, and cleans between your legs before letting you move.

He doesn’t tell you to close your eyes again. You leave to use the fresher and when you return, he’s laid out on the cot, laying slightly to the side so there’s space for you. His eyes lock on yours as you slide into the bed, watching as he lifts the blankets for you and tucks you against his side.

Sleep seems to come easily for Din; you aren’t so lucky.

He wakes to an empty bed.

The hum of the night echoes through the hold, and Din scrambles out of bed when he realizes the door is open, that the cool night air is pouring in, and that you’re gone.

A million different possibilities flit through his mind; have you seen what happens? he wonders.

He pulls his underclothes on and finds his blaster, stepping slowly onto the Crest’s ramp. The clearing is the same as you left it, the only difference is the water is now as still as anything, the moon perfectly reflected in the surface.

You’ve left an obvious trail, and he tracks you easily through the forest. It’s a good distance from the ship, and when he finally finds you — and the altar before you — he hides in the brush, listening.

He doesn’t know what gods the carvings in the stone depict, and he wonders if you do, or if you’re just talking to anyone who might be listening.

“It’s not fair,” you say, your voice loud enough that he can hear the waver in it. You sink to your knees before the carvings, your hands dragging on the stone as you stare up at the sky. “I can’t see what comes next now. I don’t know what he’ll choose. I never asked for this!”

Din holds his breath, wondering if the sky might cloud over at your shouting, that thunder might rumble in response to your plea.

“Why lead me to him only to put my fate directly into his hands? Why allow him to bring me to life, only to snuff me out?”

The guilt returns, turning his blood black, making his mouth run dry.

“Is anybody even listening to me? Does anyone even care?”

I care, he nearly shouts in response, but the guilt ties his tongue in knots.

“I don’t want to die!”

Your hands curl into fists, slamming against the stone wall, flattening and your nails dragging along the carvings. Your shoulders shake with sobs, and half of him wants to run to you, the other half wants to disappear.

He returns to the Crest, the guilt crawling up into his chest and making a home there, a rival to the beast that demands he keep you close. They spar between his ribs, demanding to be heard.

Only he can decide which one he’ll listen to.

Din is right where you left him, when you return to the ship. Sprawled on his back, his arm outstretched where you’d laid your head. You close the ramp and the door, press the buttons you’d watch him press to lock the ship, and climb carefully back into the bed. Your tears are still wet on your cheeks as you fit yourself against his side. His arm curls around you, holding you closer, and fresh tears fall.

You wake up alone. Your body aches in a good way, your limbs groaning as you find your clothes. The ship hums, and it takes you a moment to realizes you’re moving. Not through hyperspace, just flying.

When you climb into the cockpit, he’s sat in his chair, all his armour back in place. He doesn’t acknowledge as you sink down into the same seat. You force your eyes to move away from his helmet, to the world outside the ship, and your heart feels as though it may shatter in your chest.

Savareen.

It’s good to know, in a way, that Din Djarin is a man of his word. You misjudged him, it’s true, but you can’t fault him. He’s doing his job. He hasn’t seen what you’ve seen.

Maybe not all your visions come true.

The spot where he lands the ship is not one you recognize. You’re far from the coven’s commune, that much you know for sure. As the engine’s hums die out, Din comes and stands before you, the same cuffs he’d used on you on Batuu in his hands.

You give your hands to him willingly. You won’t fight him, if this is your fate.

You don’t know what comes next; you haven’t seen it.

He’s silent as he leads you out of the ship and onto the planet’s surface. The air is that same cloying heat you remember, clinging to your skin and making it crawl.

As you descend the ramp, you see a familiar face — one of the coven’s elders, flanked by two of the same warriors who had come for you on Jabiim. The same man who had come to collect you from your family on Naboo, all those years ago. Who lied to your family and said you’d be in good hands. Who lied to you your entire life, forcing you to be at the mercy of your visions.

Bile rises in your throat as you draw closer, Din’s hand tight on your shoulder, your bound hands limp in front of you. “So good to see you again, my dear,” the elder starts, and everything in you screams at you to run away, but you never get the chance.

And you don’t need to.

As the elder reaches for you, Din draws his blaster and fires a single shot. The man drops to the cracked desert floor, a smoking scorch mark in the middle of his forehead. The warriors lunge forward, drawing their swords, but Din produces another blaster and moves in front of you, his stance protective, both barrels aimed at the warriors.

“Take another step, and you die,” he nearly growls, and your fingers curl around the fabric of his cloak. The warriors’ weapons clatter to the dirt. “Go back to your coven, and give your elders this warning: if they do not stop harming the seers, they will all share the same fate as him. She leaves with me, and if they send anyone after her, they share the same fate as him.”

With a nod, the warriors turn tail, sprinting off into the desert, leaving you alone with your Mandalorian. He turns to you, unlocks the cuffs from around your wrists. Your mind reels, trying to catch up with what’s happened, what it all implies.

“You…”

Din removes his helmet, holds it against his hip as he leans in, two fingers beneath your chin as he leans in to kiss you. You sink into it, elation seeping through your body, cupping his scruffy jaw in your hands, your thumbs fitting into the patches in his beard.

The kiss feels like a promise, like an oath.

“I’ll take you back to Naboo,” he tells you when you break apart only to breathe. “You can go back to your family, back to—”

“What if I want to stay with you?”

The corner of his lips twitch, and you lean in to kiss it. “Then you’ll stay with me.”

The moment you step foot back on the Crest, you freeze. Your gaze goes out of focus, your body a lead weight against his. Fear floods Din’s body and he grabs you, worrying you’re going to pass out again, that he didn’t do enough with the bacta, that you’re—

You come back to yourself quickly, blinking hard and gulping down air. “Nevarro,” you tell him, your voice tight. “We need to go to Nevarro, to the Guild.”

“I can’t do that,” he tells you. “I just broke my contract by not delivering you to them. They won’t—”

“Shh,” you hush him, two fingers pressed against his lips. “Listen to me, Din. We need to go to Nevarro. Karga will believe you when you tell him what happened, and he has a new bounty for you. An important one.”

His brows lift. “You had a vision? You saw Karga?”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I saw much more than Karga,” you reply, your breath slowing. “I saw your son.”

the end

// TTWD track list //

#my fics #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin headcanon #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian headcanon #the mandalorian fanfiction #bangathon2024

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sesshous · 6 months

Note

hi!! how are you feeling? <33 I saw your work and I loved it!! Do you have a list of characters you write for?

Could I ask for some gaming headcanons in the falling in love stage? I would like to see the confession and all that ahshaj please and thank you!! <33

falling in love hcs ᰔ gaming

genre: fluff (they/them prns)

a/n: hello!! i'm glad you like my work, i'm feeling alright <3 this took so long to do i really could not think of anything for days but then got hit with the urge to write and got this done haha. as for charas. i write i want to say i write for most of them(?), but i'll make a list soon for who i mainly want to write for ^^

i feel like gaming doesn’t have a lot of experience with romantic feelings, so at first he doesn’t even realise that he likes, likes you, but from an outsider's perspective, people can clearly see the signs that he has a crush on you.

who else does he throw lovesick-like glances at? or gives not so subtle lingering touches too? or gets way more cheery than he usually is when you’re around? even with his whole, ‘oh- no way! we're just friends!” spiel he says when he’s asked about you. it isn’t fooling anyone.

gravitating towards you is another thing he does. the second he sees you he’d come up to you to say hello and ask about your day, or if you’re in his presence he’d want to stand/sit close next to you.

oh, you just have to be there for his wushou dance performances!! he’ll invite you everytime he has one coming up - he’ll even get you in the front row if he has to!!

(also you could not tell me he doesn’t playfully tease you or unintentionally make flirty comments towards you i just know he would!! he loves seeing you flush over his comments haha)

gaming only starts to question the way he sees you when xianyun makes a passing comment to him, ‘my, one can see you’re quite fond of them, aren’t you gaming?’ fond? quite fond? well, he definitely didn’t disagree with xianyun. he does like you! …but the more he thinks about the way he acts towards and how much he actually thinks about you, gaming comes to the realisation that he does in fact have feelings for you that go past platonic.

gaming treats you as he normally does, but he now finds himself stumbling over his words and having a harder time making eye contact with you.

and when you smile or laugh? his can feel his face instantly heating up. he blames it on his pyro vision. it’s not his pyro vision

the thought of confessing his feelings to you makes gaming… nervous. after all, he isn’t even sure if you like him back or not. but gaming doesn’t like to keep his feelings locked away, so he eventually decides he wants to confess to you (he does stall for a couple of days… have to build up that confidence.)

it’s generic (i know...) , but he’d invite you out for dim sum. however his plan of confessing to you after you’ve both finished your meal falters when you mention you’ve noticed he’s been a bit off lately and ask if he’s been doing okay. well… no time like the present, right?

“i’m fine! really, sorry for making you worry. it’s just that… i’ve been thinking a lot about you, actually. i really like you, y’know? and if you don’t like me back that’s totally okay! i won’t be mad, but… i just need to know what you think of me.”

his confession is more jumbled up than he wanted it to be. but with that now off his chest, he waits for your response, with hopes of you telling him you like him back as well.

(but seriously, how could anyone say no to someone as cute as him?)

#ᰔ works #ᰔ request #gaming x reader #ga ming x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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zepp-l1n · 1 year

Text

The Same

Pairing: Daniel Matthews x Fem!reader

summary: Daniel meets someone in the same boat as him at a "Jigsaw victim therapy group" session. fic type - hurt/comfort, post Saw 2, fluff?? warning - 2000s emo x 2000s emo, canon level Saw violence, both reader and Daniel have PTSD, mentions of past drug use, mentions of body scarring from the traps, self harm (??) word count - 1,779 a/n: hiiii! sorry my posting has been kinda off and on for the past few months, but I'm hoping now that school and my personal schedule is a little more chill, I'll be able to write and post more often. <3 (also, what's up with the lack of Daniel fics?)

Group therapy wasn't Daniel's idea. He knew he needed to talk about the things he had gone through and seen, which is why he had originally gone to one-on-one therapy, but when his therapist had suggested joining Bobby Dagen's group he had been very apprehensive. At first, Daniel had been very against the idea. He found Bobby very pretentious and overzealous, and the entire "Jigsaw victim therapy group" to be a scam for Bobby's fan's entertainment. For months his therapist and his mother brought up the group again and again, leading to Daniel finally deciding to go in the hopes of getting them to shut up about it.

Now, Daniel found himself in the room Bobby would rent out for each session. They were all sitting side by side in the formation of a circle, letting each person have a clear view of everyone else. Not one person in the room, other than bobby, looked elated to be there.

Daniel sat in his folded out seat, arms crossed and head turned downward. So far, the entire experience had been uncomfortable. Bobby had gone on one of his regularly scheduled "We should be grateful!" spiels, and multiple people had shared their sob-stories. For 30 minuets Daniel had to endure the same arguments and conversations over and over. He sat in silence, never once making himself known - choosing to sit and pick at his black, long-sleeved undershirt the entire time.

Daniel had been so focused on his own thoughts that when he finally glanced back up, he noticed all the eyes on him. "Daniel?" Bobby called out.

"Hmm?" his reply was short and uninterested.

"I asked if you would like to share your story with the others. Would you?" Bobby asked. The smile he gave Daniel as he spoke made him divert his eyes. Daniel shrugged, not knowing if he truly wanted to. "If you'd like to wait that's okay. Whenever you're ready, Daniel."

The other's diverted their attention to Luba afterwards, taking in her story. Daniel silently listened, just waiting for the session to be over. They continued this way, story after story, until the door swung open, creating a loud noise. In it's opening was a girl, presumably around Daniel's age from what he could see.

"Ah, (Y/N), nice of you to finally join us." Bobby sarcastically spoke.

The teen stepped into the room, waving at a man in the corner that Daniel hadn't noticed before, and continued towards the circle. The silver chain hanging from her belt loops lightly rattled against her black cargo-jeans as she walked his way. "Oh shut up, Bobby. Some of us have lives outside the whole Jigsaw shit." she scoffed, her eyeliner covered eyes glaring at the older man. The girl, (Y/N) as Daniel her Bobby call her, took a open seat a few chairs down from Daniel, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a wave of her ringed hand before turning towards the others.

"Now, now, (Y/N). There's no need for hostility here - we're all the same." Bobby cheerfully stated, causing the girl to roll her eyes. "Here, since you missed when everyone else did it, why don't you introduce yourself to out newest member. This is Daniel." his arm directed (Y/N)'s eyes to her fellow teen.

(Y/N)'s dark-red lips turned up into a forced smile before she spoke. "Hi, I'm (Y/N). I'm the girl who was found a week after a trap that wasn't even hers, half dead and tied to the mutilated corpse of her sister. Nice to meet you!" The smile dropped immediately after she finished her sentence.

"Sorry Daniel. Just ignore her. She's still a little apprehensive to be doing this." Daniel awkwardly nodded at Bobby's explanation. "Good, now why don't we continue..." Daniel couldn't focus on Bobby as he spoke - his attention was solely caught on (Y/N)'s appearance. On top of the jeans and chain, she also had a shirt similar to what he would usually wear. It was red and white, and he could tell it was showing some kind of band-logo, but he couldn't get a clear enough look to tell what band. Glancing down at his own white t-shirt, he caught similarities between the two, finally realizing who it was. "Wrath of the Gods." he whispered.

(Y/N)'s head lightly turned her head, seemingly asking him to repeat himself.

"Your shirt. It's 'Wrath of the Gods' - like mine." he lightly smiled. "You like them?"

She glances down, taking in her own shirt and then his. "Huh... Yeah, my sister, she uh, introduced me to their music a few years ago. This was her shirt actually; she gave me it when she got a new one before the trap."

"Sounds like she was pretty cool." Daniel muttered. By this point, (Y/N) had moved over a seat so they could talk without bothering any of the others.

She smiled before whispering back, "She was."

Now that she was closer, Daniel could see the scarring on her face, neck, arms, and hands. He couldn't help but wonder what she fully went through if that was the result of her trap. It also made him wonder if the same scarring would cascade down her legs and torso too. Did the scarring all look the same; how many were there; were some more gory than others? Hundreds of questions flew through his mind as he looked at her.

"How'd you get them?" Daniel didn't even register the fact that he had spoken.

"Huh?" (Y/N) whispered.

"Sorry, uh, your scars. If you don't mind me asking, how'd you get them? I mean, you don't have to tell me. Y'know, I don't want to cross any boundar-" Daniel's rant was cut off by (Y/N).

"It's fine, Daniel." she sighed, giving him a sad smile. "I got these during my sister's 'game'"

"Your sister's game?" Daniel asked, hoping she would clarify.

(Y/N) looked over at the others, making sure no one was bothered by their conversation, before continuing. "Yeah. My sister was the one being tested. It was my fault, but she was the one who got the consequences." she paused, taking a moment to fully think about how to explain her experience. "My parents died when I was little, and my sister had turned 18 a few weeks before they did. After that, she took me in; became my legal guardian, y'know. She was a nurse too, so a lot of the time I was either by myself or out with friends. When my friend Amy finally got her learners, we went out one evening and ended up in an accident. That led to me being on a shit-ton of pain meds, and eventually I got hooked. It was really bad. Jane, my sister, had access to a lot of pain medication, and I used that against her. I begged for weeks for her to steal me them. She, uh... She eventually couldn't take seeing me so bad, so she broke a lot of rules and brought me some. I guess Jigsaw found out, and he thought I was pulling her down. When he took us, his whole argument in the tape was that I was bad for her, and if she got rid of her baggage - me - then she'd be free and would go places in life. If she didn't get rid of me, she'd die." Once again, (Y/N) paused, collecting herself. "He had us tied together to this weird chair set up. It was on these rails, and in front of either of us were these things I could only describe as 'the open-faced turkey sandwich version of a woodchipper'. She was supposed to kill me - push me into mine. I begged and pleaded for her to just do it, cause, I mean, he was right. I was the only bad thing in her life. She would've been better off without me."

"If she died, and didn't want to hurt you, then how did you end up with all the scars?" Daniel quietly asked.

"I did it to myself." Daniel's eyes widened at how casually she said it. "She wouldn't push back and put me into the woodchipper, so I did it myself. I put my feet on the edges of the rails and pushed myself forwards into it. I got close enough to cut myself up a bit. I thought I was gonna save her." (Y/N)'s eyes began to water, and she quickly wiped it away. "Jane was always stronger than me, though. She pulled back and kept us at the midpoint. We were there when the timer went off. I guess it was motorized, cause when the timer went off, we moved backwards. Jane went straight into it. There was nothing I could do but sit there and listen to her screams. Jigsaw and his little groupies never came for me. I was supposed to die, so they left me there. For about a week I was strapped to the trap and what was left of my sister, out of it from blood loss, hunger, and dehydration. Some homeless guy eventually found everything and called the police."

"Wow..." Daniel muttered.

"Yeah, I know." (Y/N) hesitantly chuckled. "Since then I've been doing two sessions of regular therapy a week, this, and rehab."

As she finished her sentence, Bobby loudly spoke up. "Alright guys, today was great! It is time we wrap up though. I hope to see everyone again next week, and I hope you have a great rest of your week." The two teens watched as he walked back to the doorway of the room, stopping next to his wife, lawyer, bestfriend, and publicist.

"Well, I guess that's enough trauma dumping for today." (Y/N) glanced back over at Daniel. "Listen, uh, y'know, 'Wrath of the Gods' has a show this weekend. You should come, so we could hang out some more. To be honest, I need more friends who listen to music I like." she laughed.

Daniel grinned, "Yeah, why not?"

"Good, good." (Y/N) mumbled. "Listen, I gotta go, my foster dad picks me up from these things, but I'll see you this weekend."

"Yeah, yeah, see you later." he smiled. Daniel contently watched as she got up, and headed for the door.

As she got closer to the door, (Y/N) turned back around and waved at him. "Bye, Danny."

(Y/N) turned back around and exited, leaving Daniel to sit in the room alone, thinking over what had just happened. "Holy shit." he dramatically exhaled. Maybe coming to the "Jigsaw victim therapy group" wasn't that bad of an idea.

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swarvey · 3 months

Text

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

Harvey returns to his friends for more advice; you overhear an interesting conversation.

a/n: a.k.a., you two are unbelievably oblivious to each other.

btw, please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic!

ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4

paper rings masterlist

chapter three: how you get the girl -> "remind her how it used to be."

Elliott nodded slowly after listening to Harvey's recap of his meeting with you. The doctor had called both Shane and Elliott for a "quick meeting" at his apartment as soon as he left your farm — though, Shane, unsurprisingly, did not pick up, so he sent him a quick text to come by when he had time.

"So, what do you see as my plan of action?" Harvey asked, fidgeting with his hands. "Should I be . . . direct with her?"

Elliott hummed. “Well, you’ll have to be more than direct, my friend,” he decided, a thoughtful glint lighting his eyes. “It’s been years since you’ve seen her, yes?”

“Yes, I haven’t seen her since she graduated college.” The singular sentence itself saddened Harvey, deflating in his seat. “I’m a horrible friend, aren’t I?”

“Precisely!” Elliott exclaimed, only making his guilt worsen. “After such a prolonged period of time away from each other, does it feel fitting to simply tell her your feelings? No,” he said, before Harvey could put together an answer. “The time you two spend together now is imperative — you must spoil her, cherish her, show her how much you care before you tell her.”

Suddenly, three knocks sounded throughout the apartment, and Harvey quickly stood to answer it. He opened the door to reveal Shane, a six-pack of beers in hand.

“I was asleep,” he explained bluntly, walking in and taking off his shoes, “but after I heard Marnie going on about the new farmer, I figured we’d need these.” He lifted the drinks, walking over to Elliott before setting them down on the table. “Anyway, I could hear your spiel the entire way up the stairs, pretty boy,” he huffed to his friend, already starting to open three cans. “Can’t say you’re too far off from what I was thinking, which is a first.”

Harvey returned to his seat, gladly taking the beer offered to him. “So, you agree?”

“Pretty much.”

“My point stands,” Elliott said proudly, taking a victorious sip of his drink. “Now is not the time to rush your sprouting relationship — good things come with time, as they say.” Shane grunted in agreement, visibly displeased that he was on the same page as him.

Harvey fidgeted with the tab on the can, brows furrowed in thought. “I should get her gifts, then? Or buy her meals?”

“That may prove to be too much,” Elliott replied, shaking his head. “The last thing you want to do is scare her away, friend.”

“Don’t be a kiss ass,” Shane summarized.

The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “This is helpless — what am I supposed to do, then?”

“Talk to her,” his friends said in unison, though one sounded much more exasperated than the other.

“Recall the past,” Elliott continued, leaning forward. “The good, the bad; the exhilarating, the mundane, remind her of it all! Then, after remembering the wonderful times the two of you had, she will realize what she has been missing all along has been right in front of her.”

Harvey laughed lightly at the thought. “I doubt she’ll think that,” he sighed. “It’s been so long since we’ve spent time together, not to mention I have no idea if she’s seeing anyone or not.”

“And what if she is?” Shane asked, perking a brow. “I mean, honestly, is the world gonna end? You’ll live, bud, believe me — there are plenty of chicks who dig doctors.”

“I guess you don’t understand,” Harvey replied, shaking his head and staring down at the table. “She’s really been the only one I’ve truly seen myself being with.”

“Bull,” his friend replied, leaning forward in his seat. “You went to college in Zuzu City, didn’t you? No way you didn’t find any girls over there.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“So you didn’t date anyone? ”

“Did I not just say that isn’t the point here?” Harvey looked up to meet Shane’s smirk. “No matter who I’ve seen in the past, no matter who I see from this point forward, my mind has and always will return to her. It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.”

“My bad, doc,” Shane apologized amusedly. “Didn’t realize you were such a sap.”

“With the right person,” Elliott started, smiling knowingly, “anyone can be a romantic, dear friend. That, I can guarantee.”

Groaning, Harvey leaned forward and let his head drop in his arms, remaining still as his friend comfortingly patted his back.

What have I gotten myself into?

You hummed absentmindedly as you walked back into the heart of Pelican Town, the sun finally starting to feel a little warmer on your skin as it steadily rose. You were amazed at how colorful and lively everything looked — the strikingly blue birds, the merrily pink flowers, and even the townsfolk seemed to be blossoming in the spring. You eyed the clinic as you walked past it, noting the makeshift ‘Closed’ sign taped to the door, smiling slightly at the thought of Harvey closing it just for your arrival.

As you made your way into Pierre’s General Store to look at what’s in stock, you were immediately greeted by Pierre himself, his face lighting up as you stepped through the door.

“Hey, it's the new farmer! I'm Pierre, owner of the local general store,” he introduced, meeting you in the middle of the store to shake your hand firmly. “Though, if you rack your brain a bit, you might remember seeing me from time to time as a kid.”

Mouth agape, you scanned the storeowner up and down before exclaiming, “It’s you! Your girlfriend had short green hair, didn’t she?”

“I guess it was shorter back then, so yes! Once girlfriend, now wife, of course,” he corrected, arms crossed proudly as you quietly applauded him. “Glad to see you back in town. Now, I’m sure you know a great deal more about farming than I do, but I do know that my stuff is the best in town.”

And really the only stuff in town, you wanted to say, though you kept your mouth shut. “Good to know,” you replied instead, starting to slowly make your way around the store. “Oh, wow, these are just beautiful! I didn’t know you sold flowers, too.”

You stopped in front of a stand near the register filled with bouquets. The colors ranged wildly, some being a simple white while others flaunted a flash of red. All of them, though, were equally stunning, not to mention they smelled amazing. You immediately thought of Harvey helping you move in, how he had even been willing to close his beloved clinic for a day to set aside time for you.

“How much are these?” you asked, pointing towards the flower stand.

Pierre’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced between your finger and the flowers. “The bouquets?” he clarified. “You’re wondering about the price of a bouquet?”

Confused, you tiled your head. “Yes. Why, are they expensive? I just thought it would be nice to get Harvey a thank-you gift for this morning—”

“Ah, I see!” Pierre exclaimed, cutting you off and laughing loudly. “You know, I typically don’t do this — and don’t expect any more special deals — but I’ll give you one for half off.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, mumbling the latter half of your response as you half expected to get one for free. Still, you picked a bouquet with a good mix of all the colors and handed a few coins to Pierre. “Could you point me towards Harvey’s house?”

“Oh, he lives above the clinic,” Pierre replied, quickly counting the coins in his palm before dropping them in the register. He looked up at you with an odd smile, as if he knew something you didn’t. “There’s a door all the way at the back that leads up to his apartment.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon, Pierre!” With that, you left the store happily. You were slightly worried Harvey might have locked the clinic’s door, but after tugging it open, you wasted no time finding the door Pierre had told you about.

As you walked up, though, an all too familiar voice made you stop mid-step.

“I guess you don’t understand,” you heard Harvey say. “She’s really been the only one I’ve truly seen myself being with.”

She?

“Bull,” another voice said. “You went to college in Zuzu City, didn’t you? No way you didn’t find any girls over there.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“So you didn’t date anyone? ”

“Did I not just say that isn’t the point here?” You couldn’t say you weren’t stunned. You’d never heard Harvey sound so peeved. “No matter who I’ve seen in the past, no matter who I see from this point forward, my mind has and always will return to her. It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.”

“My bad, doc. Didn’t realize you were such a sap.”

“With the right person, anyone can be a romantic, dear friend. That, I can guarantee,” a third voice chimed in.

You were shocked. No, more than shocked — in complete, utter disbelief. Harvey? Feeling that way for a girl? You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms and looking up at the door. For a moment, you were angry your childhood friend hadn’t mentioned anything about this girl of his, but you could hardly blame him. Why would he, after the two of you stopped keeping up with each other regularly?

You quietly made your way back down the stairs, trying your hardest not to slam the door. As you started to head back to your farm, you ran into the green-haired woman you recognized as Pierre’s wife.

“Oh, hello!” she said happily, smiling brightly at you. “You must be the new farmer! I remember when you were this tall, you know.” She put a hand on her hip, and you smiled as normally as you possibly could back to her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, desperately wanting to go home. Before you could make your escape, Caroline gasped, looking directly at the bundle of flowers in your hand. Shit.

“My, a bouquet already? Who—”

“They’re for me!” you quickly explained, cursing yourself as you felt your cheeks begin to warm. “I, uh, needed some decoration for my house, and I thought these would do!”

She nodded slowly. “Of course.” Caroline touched your arm lightly before walking towards the store. “Let me know if you need any help settling in, okay? We live right at the back of the store!”

You yelled a quick thanks and practically bolted to the path toward your house, swearing under your breath. Your heart beat heavily in your chest as Harvey’s words kept ringing in your head, for some reason making you more flustered than you normally get.

It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.

If something didn’t make sense to Harvey, you knew it had to be bad. As you finally opened the door to your home, you collapsed on your bed, bouquet falling beside you. After a few moments, you sat up abruptly, scowling at yourself. Why’d you care so much anyway? You laughed humorlessly at yourself. Honestly, who knew the thought of him having a crush would be that bewildering? He was a grown man, after all, feelings like that were normal. Perfectly normal.

That night, you hung the flowers upside down beside the wall on your bed, hoping they’d dry nicely and make their beauty last.

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv #sdv x reader #stardew valley x farmer #sdv x farmer #sdv harvey #harvey x farmer #harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #sdv shane #sdv elliott #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #ao3 fanfic #.lin's fics

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ghostedghouls · 1 year

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make it hurt

✢ in an attempt to save himself from more hurt, dew decides to hurt swiss the only way he knows he can.

✢ pairing: Swiss x gn!reader / Dew x Swiss (not romantically)

✢ genre: angst

✢ warnings: manipulation, dew is an asshole, trauma, swiss has a dark past, mentioned murder, hurt/no comfort, dew has issues i dont blame him

✢ a/n: the romantic pairing is reader x swiss, but the story focuses more on dewdrop/ dewdrop x swiss because I wanted to explore this dynamic (and also hurt swiss whoops). Also this got way longer than i wanted it to be so maybe i’ll have to do a part 2 bc i cant stand bad endings :( | not beta read sorry

Dew was known for being the most difficult of the ghouls. He was known for his temper and anger, the heated arguments and the venom in his words.

Dew was known for his low blows.

The other ghouls knew that Dew hardly meant the things he said in a fit of anger and rage. At first the words had stung. The fire ghoul had a talent for finding the most hurtful words and digging deep, reaching for things he knew would provoke a reaction from the others; preferably anger or hurt. And oh boy, was it hurtful at times.

But the better the ghouls got to know him, the more they learned not to take the words to heart, no matter how hard it was at times. They knew it was his way of protecting himself, his way of making sure the other person stopped digging into him, stopped prying open old wounds. It was his way of making sure nobody would ever break down the walls that he so carefully had built around himself.

But even though the ghouls tried to not let the words get to them, they always eventually did. Dew knew how to get under their skin, tear open their wounds so his own could stay closed. A low blow from Dew would usually end the argument, the other ghoul too angry, shocked or hurt to continue the conversation.

But not with Swiss. Not today.

Swiss stood his ground as the fire ghoul spat insult after insult at him. His arms were crossed in front of his broad chest as he listened to the never-ending stream of words, carefully picked out by the smaller ghoul to dig into Swiss’ insecurities and worries. But Swiss saw through Dew easily. He knew that he was trying to deflect from his own worries and traumas. So he stood there and took the verbal abuse because he knew Dew didn’t mean it. Never did.

Swiss was by far one of the hardest ghouls to truly anger. He was very forgiving, especially with the smallest ghoul. He tended to laugh things off or talk things out right away as to not leave an argument unresolved. If the other ghoul thought about it, he had never seen Swiss even remotely angry. There were times where he seemed pissed off but never really angry.

“Are you done yet, firefly?” The nickname sounded sour on Swiss’s tongue and Dew almost visibly recoiled. But he knew better than to show a reaction. He had to be indifferent, hide that he was vunerable. But the comment had thrown him off and his brain short-circuited long enough for Swiss to finally get a word in.

“You stand here and go about your little spiel like you always do, Dew. But we both know you don’t mean it. You can curse and scream at me all you want; it won’t change a thing. There wasn’t even a real argument to begin with. You got your fragile ego hurt and now you’re foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal.”

Dewdrop growled at that. Low in his throat as his tail swished angrily behind himself. It was true, and that was what angered the fire ghoul the most. Satanas, Dew had already forgotten what the whole argument was even about. He was only arguing for the sake of getting Swiss off his tail. To hurt the multi ghoul so that he wouldn’t end up being hurt himself. The other ghoul was entirely too calm for his liking and it scared Dewdrop. It scared him that he didn’t have control of the conversation. It scared him that Swiss knew exactly what he was trying to archive. Scared him that he was so fucking vunerable in front of someone after he had sworn himself to never be open like that again. He opened his mouth to say something he knew would hurt Swiss, but the other ghoul was faster to speak.

“Do you know what I think? I think you’re getting so defensive because you know I am right. You know you don’t even mean a single thing you say to us all the time. Because you’re scared to let someone - for once in your goddamn life - into that head of yours. Because you’re so fucking scared that if you let someone in, they will tear you down from the inside. Because you know you couldn’t take that again.” Swiss’s words seemed harsh but he was calm, somewhat encouraging even.

But Dewdrop was seething where he was standing. He felt like he was vibrating with anger. His fists were balled up so tightly, he could feel the sharp claws dig into his own flesh. His fangs were clenched so tightly, he was afraid they would break off under the pressure. If he’d had just a little less self control, he would have launched himself at the multi ghoul and ripped into him with claws and teeth. Copia and the clergy be damned. They would send him back to the pit for killing another ghoul, but he couldn’t care less in that moment.

Where did the multi ghoul get the audacity to dig into Dew’s head like that? Rip him open piece be piece and present him with his own thoughts. It sent him into a frenzy.

In that moment Dewdrop felt truly lost. There was no thing he could say to Swiss to make him stop, to make him leave. Dew nearly choked on his own spit. His throat felt tight as he tried to swallow. It became apparent that the fire ghoul wasn’t the only one who knew how to hurt others deeply.

Dew bared his fangs at Swiss and hissed. It wasn’t intentional, a leftover instinct from the pit that was generally considered bad manners by the higher clergy members. Swiss stood calmly but his tail jerked once, showing that he wasn’t immune to the feral display of agression from his bandmate.

And with a last growl, Dewdrop turned on his heel and left Swiss standing in the hallway. He felt humiliated and hurt. He was never the one to leave an argument, had never lost to the others. In his mind he was thinking of a thousand things he could do to hurt Swiss. The argument might have been over, but he wouldn’t - no, couldn’t - let the multi ghoul get away with this. He had to do something that would truly and utterly destroy the taller ghoul.

He was still seething as he stumbled through the clergy hallways. A few siblings he came across had fled once they saw him. Good, he thought, at least he was still respected by the siblings. They would never dare to talk to him the way Swiss did. Would never dare to pry into his head like that. They knew they couldn’t because he would rip them to shreds if they tried. Just like how he should have done with dear Swiss, he thought angrily, his fists clenched again.

He marched through the hallways for a little longer before something caught his eyes. And suddenly it felt like he was presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity sent by the hellish father lucifer himself.

You.

How had Dewdrop not thought of that before? Swiss’s little romance he had going on with you. It was still fresh, long months of ‘will-they-won’t-they’ finally turned into little kisses and shared nights. And that turned into actual feelings. Swiss had never officially told you how he felt, Dew knew that, but he could smell it on the multi ghoul. And he could smell it on you too. With renewed vigor (and anger) he walked up to you.

Should he grab you and hurt you? Should he leave your body bloodied with bitemarks and drag you back into the ghoul den? The smell of your blood would be so overwhelming it would surely sent the multi ghoul into overdrive. A perverted satisfaction spread through Dew’s body at the thought. The satisfaction of truly hurting Swiss in the most horrible way he could. To finally make the multi ghoul snap. Because with anger Dew could work. Anger he knew how to handle. But no, he thought. That was too risky. It would get him a ticket straight back to hell from the clergy. And it wouldn’t hurt enough. Wouldn’t dig deeply enough into Swiss’ heart.

It was like a light went off above the fire ghoul’s head as you turned around, smiling at him as he approaced you. He tried to keep his face stoic, to not let a toothy smile shine through as he finally decided how to wreck Swiss.

“Dewdrop.”, you said warmly, “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No. I just wanted to check in how you were.”, he said, feigning worry.

“Oh um.. thank you, I am fine- why? Is there something I should be worried about?”, you asked confused.

“I just thought after the whole thing with Swiss... y’know. That you might be hurt...” Oh satanas, it felt so incredibly good. Dewdrops eyes nearly rolled back into his skull as you very clearly took the bait.

“What thing with Swiss? Did something happen?” you were starting to grow worried and Dewdrop nearly laughed at how pathetic it was.

“Oh no... he didn’t tell you yet, then. I’m sorry, I just thought he would have told you by now. Seeing how you two are pretty serious now I assumed he did tell you.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “But I guess he will tell you when he’s ready.... I just hope that’s soon - wouldn’t want you to get into a relationship with him under false pretences, right?”

You eyes grew wide with confusion and worry and as Dewdrop decided to slowly turn around and act as if he was going to leave, you quickly grabbed his arm to make him stay.

“Please.” you breathed out “What is going on? What do you mean with ‘false pretences’?”

“It’s not my place to tell you. He should tell you himself. It is a pretty big thing after all.” Dewdrop knew he already had you. He was only trying to make this even worse once shit hit the fan. He had to make sure you would talk to Swiss about it, maybe even end things with him. Oh satanas, how priceless the look on his face would be. He’d deserve it.

“I’m begging you to please tell me what you mean.”, you anxiously begged the fire ghoul who sighed in return as if he was doing this against his will.

“I thought he trusted you enough to tell you himself but maybe he doesn’t quite yet. It’s only understandable given his past, of course.” You were eating everything up Dewdrop was saying. And the best thing was, he didn’t even need to lie. Didn’t need to make things up about the multi ghoul because it was all true. Dewdrop leaned against the wall next to him before starting;

“Swiss wasn’t actually summoned with the rest of the ghouls. Not many people know this because he worked in the shadows most of the time. I just saw him occasionally while I was still working with Terzo.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. The hurt still there, still fresh. “He didn’t eat with the other ghouls, didn’t spend time with the other ghouls. It was like he was kept away from the rest of the clergy at all times. I always wondered what his job was. There are no ghouls in the clergy that serve no purpose, so I was curious. I, myself, only got to know the truth recently.”

It was true. Dew thought back to the evening that Swiss had confessed. He had never seen him cry like that before. Had always assumed Swiss had no baggage, no hurt inside of him. But that evening, Swiss had sobbed as he told his mates about his jobs before the band. Explained how he had done the dirty work, had killed siblings and ghouls alike. Without ever questioning anything. How he had been the perfect killer all along. The other ghouls had been taken aback and the following days - even if they didn’t mean to - they had avoided Swiss. Those days had wrecked the multi ghoul horribly, to the point where he didn’t leave his room, not even to eat.

In the end they managed to talk things out. Nobody was truly mad at Swiss or scared of him. For fucks sake, they all were ghouls. They had all killed before. They just hadn’t expected something like this from chill, laidback Swiss. Swiss hadn’t asked them to keep it a secret but given his reaction the first time he confessed, it was pretty clear he didn’t want anyone else to know. This is why Dew knew his plan would work. He knew it would absolutely obliterate Swiss to be confronted with this part of his past again, especially if it came from you.

“Well it seems-... oh, I really don’t know if I should tell you this. You’re gonna be hurt.”, Dew tried to sow worries and it worked. “I need to know.”, came from you in almost a whisper.

“Well, there were certain ghouls that... did the clergy’s dirty work. I mean, it only makes sense to summon ghouls to do it, don’t get me wrong. And it just so happened to be our dear Swiss.”

“Dirty work?”, you asked, more in disbelieve than in not-understanding.

“Getting rid of unwanted people. Outside and inside the clergy. The perfect killer. Ghouls leave no traces behind as you know. Swiss does have some chompers on him, I will not lie...”

You gasped and Dew watched carefully as you stared in disbelieve. “But don’t worry. He would never hurt you!” Dew hesitated for a bit. “Probably, anyways. What do they say again; you can take the ghoul out of hell but you can’t take hell out of the ghoul?” He faked a laugh at the lame joke. A real smile crept on his lips as he watched you stare into space with furrowed brows, clearly worried about what you had just learned about your lover.

Dew knew he had to make the finale count, so he faked a worried face as he gently grabbed your shoulder. “I do need you to be careful though. Swiss was dangerous in the past, following orders blindly just because he was told to. He killed ghouls and siblings, some of which he worked with. He had no morales. I’m just confused that he hasn’t told you about this yet... I’m worried about what that means. He is a ghoul. You can’t forget that. A demon from the pit, summoned to fulfill a task.” Dewdrop stood taller as his hand fell off your shoulder. “He’s in the band now but we can’t be sure he isn’t still following some of his former orders.” That was the only lie. Swiss had promised that he had been released from that position ages ago, had sworn to his mates that he was telling the truth. And Dew knew it had been the truth... but you didn’t need to know that.

The guitarist left you standing in the hallways, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears of disbelief and sadness.

That evening Dewdrop sat in the common room. He listened to the muffled voices behind Swiss’ bedroom door. You two had been talking - arguing - for close to two hours. Dew was the only one left sitting there, all the other ghouls had left at one point, the atmosphere in the den too suffocating to bear.

When you had stumbled into their den a few hours ago, your energy had immidiately alerted all the ghouls. They had raised their heads as they watched you walk into the common area. Swiss was the first to approach you - of course he was. The energy you gave off must’ve been excruciating for the multi ghoul. The fire ghoul still felt the anger deep in his chest, barely any less than before. He wasn’t like Swiss, he didn’t forgive that easily. And Swiss deserved this. Deserved to be hurt just how Dewdrop had been hurt.

The multi ghoul knew something was off, so he lead you into his room without a word. You hesitated for a bit, worried. And Dew almost smirked as he watched you stand in the doorway of Swiss’ room. You looked back over your shoulder to the small ghoul.

You entered your lover’s room, closing the door behind yourself gently. The multi ghoul approached you slowly, gently reaching for your hands, encouraging you to tell him what was wrong. But as his hands brushed yours, a jolt rushed through you. Not a jolt of excitement, lust or happiness. No, this felt different. This was fear.

Hurt flashed across Swiss’s face as you moved your hands away from his reaching ones. And as you took a step back to increase the distance between your bodies, he felt like he would die right then and there.

“What’s going on, sweet cheeks?”, the taller ghoul asked, concern lacing his soft voice.

You didn’t speak for a second. Your head hung low, facing the floor, but Swiss could see the lines between your brows nontheless. His stomach twisted itself in knots as he just observed you for a second. Your hands were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and your posture was defensive, closed-off. And the way you smelled - it felt like a punch to the gut to Swiss. Fear, concern, worry, hurt.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong right now, but is there anything I can do to help y-” - “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Swiss was the one to take a step back this time. “What do you mean?”

“I deserved to know!” You raised your head and there were tears in your eyes. Not yet spilled but they were there and Swiss felt helpless.

“What are you talking about? Did I do something? Did you change your mind about... us?”

“No! I mean yes- no... I just-”, you stumbled through the words clumsily, not even knowing what exactly you were trying to say.

“When were you going to tell me you killed for the clergy?”

Swiss felt the breath being knocked out of him, his heart stopped for a second, a searing pain rushing through his chest before the organ stumbled into a rushed rhythm. His mouth hung open, his ears ringing. It was like his worst nightmare came true, and it was happening right now in front of him. He watched as the first tears fell and you whispered “So it’s true.”. The multi ghoul felt like he needed to throw up, his chest heaving and his tail erratic behind him.

Your eyes truly took him in then; The claws at his sides, the tail behind him, the grey skin, the tiniest peek of his fangs, the sharp ears and the golden eyes that shone through the slits of the silver mask. Those hands - those claws - that had caressed you many nights, had softly ran through your hair or across your skin, were the same ones that had the blood of so many people on them. His teeth, usually nipping you gently, had ripped out throats and limbs before. Had hurt and killed. murdered.

You swallowed thickly as a new wave of fear rushed through you. What were you doing? In the room alone with a killer and confronting him about it? If the things Dewdrop had said were true, then there was no way of knowing that he wouldn’t do it again. Your investigation in the library about those ‘special ghouls’ just before you got here, didn’t help either.

Swiss felt the instant shift from hurt to fear in you. He felt it deeply in his body and it itched at his insides. Satanas, he wanted to claw at himself, get rid of that feeling, rip it out from his insides.

He only recently had told the other ghouls about his past and the days following had been excruciating for him. It had created a rift in their relationship for a while. And even though everything seemed alright now, he knew they still thought about it from time to time. But they had been understanding, because they were also ghouls, because they had done similar things. He couldn’t expect the same understanding from you. A human.

Swiss watched your form shake as you cried silently and in that moment he wanted to die. He wanted to rush to Copias office and have himself be sent back to hell. Either by ritual or by a dagger to the heart.

As he started speaking, his own tears fell, his body rocking with sobs as he watched his relationship crumble in front of him.

Dew had felt a sick satisfaction as he listened carefully to what was being said. The two of you weren’t screaming at each other but the door did little to stop the fire ghoul from listening in on the conversation. The other ghouls sat strewn around the common room. Their own conversations had died down shortly after the smell of fear, hurt and sadness had crept through the cracks of the door.

The longer the argument went on the more suffocating the energy in the ghoul den got. Mountain had been the first to leave, excusing himself to his greenhouse to escape the all-consuming smell of a multi ghoul in distress. The girls had left together without a word. They didn’t need to say anything. Everyone knew.

One after another the rest of the ghouls left the den as the sounds of sobs grew louder from the bedroom. Phantom had scurried after the girls. Being a quintessence ghoul meant he felt everything even harsher than the other ghouls. And he couldn’t take it. Rain took his leave a little later after he couldn’t bear hearing Swiss cry anymore. It hurt too badly to stay.

The anger Dew had felt until just minutes ago was almost non-existent now. Instead, the ugly grasps of guilt had a tright grip on him, threatening to pull him under and drown him in it. He tried to tell himself that Swiss deserved it. That he didn’t do anything wrong. You did deserve to know what Swiss was, after all. But Dew knew it had not been his place to tell you. And not in the way he did. Using you to get a reaction out of Swiss. To manipulate you into thinking a certain way about the multi ghoul. His chest felt heavy with guilt, suffocating him from the inside.

He didn’t blame the other ghouls for leaving the den. The atmosphere was devastating. The smell of distress thick in the air. This was even worse than when Swiss had come clean with them a few weeks prior. And suddenly Dew wasn’t so sure what this would do to Swiss. He had been a wreck last time, there was no way of knowing what would happen this time.

Aether was the last to leave. He sighed as he got up from the sofa, turning to leave the den like the others had before turning back to Dewdrop with a snarl. It was so entirely unlike Aether, that Dew felt himself recoil at the gesture.

“You told them, didn’t you?”, he asked, disappointment in his eyes. Dew didn’t say anything but that was answer enough for the quintessence ghoul.

“You’ve said fucked up things before, Dewdrop. But this was a real low blow, even for you.”

And with that, Aether left the den without looking back at the fire ghoul still sitting on the couch. Dew’s own eyes stung with tears as he felt everything he had done crashing down on him. The tears didn’t fall though, because before they could, the door to Swiss’s room opened.

Your still crying form walked through the door and into the direction of the den’s exit. Swiss followed slowly, not daring to be too close to you. He stopped in the middle of the common room and watched with heavy sobs as you closed the door behind yourself. His eyes were transfixed on the door as if he was waiting for you to open it again. Open it and run back to him, leap into his arms and hug him, kiss him. Telling him everything was going to be alright.

But the door never opened.

Swiss turned to Dewdrop and when their eyes met, the fire ghoul felt like he was being pulled down into the pit. He had never, not even then, seen Swiss like this. Completely and utterly gone. Dew waited for Swiss to snap at him. To launch himself at the smaller ghoul and rip him to pieces. He wouldn’t have fighted back, he would’ve let it happen. He knew what he did was not excusable.

But the attack never came. Instead there was a shaky breath from the multi ghoul as he mustered up a bitter smile. “I hope you got what you wanted, firefly.”

He left the den as well. Where to, Dew didn’t know.

But the feeling in his stomach was so incredibly painful, he didn’t dare to move off the couch. And Dew had never hated himself more than in that moment.

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angelsanarchy · 3 months

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Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N One-Shot Series PRT 36

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl @s-0lar @kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey @mayathepsychic1999 @x-prettyboy-x @rorylover71 @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27 @kappasbbgirl @starry-eyed-wild-child

"So you and Y/n have seemed to settle into a nice place." Jack watched Dr. Carty's face as he held a satisfied grin.

"I like to think so. It's been nice having someone to wake up next to who doesn't think I'm a complete psychopath." Jack joked but Dr. Carty sighed.

"Well you aren't a psychopath Jack-" Before Carty could give him the whole spiel he laughed.

"I know I'm just messing with you doc. Y/n lets me joke with her about it so I guess I'm just feeling a bit more free with it.

"You truly do look free Jack. I'm very proud of the beautiful progress you've made." Dr. Carty shut his book and smiled at Jack.

"How about the medications? Are they treating you better?" He asked and Jack shook his head.

"Actually yeah these work a lot better than those last ones. Y/n told me to start keeping a medication diary on days I'm feeling weird so that's helped with what time of day I take them. Should have started boning a medical professional a long time ago." Jack teased once more and Dr. Carty actually chuckled.

"Thankfully you aren't my type." Jack's eyes lit up.

"Son of a bitch, did you just take your doctor hat off to make a joke? I think we'll both be leaving this session proud of one another." Jack and Dr. Carty laughed together.

"I also think now wouldn't be a terrible time to start looking into getting a companion of the furry variety. I can send you some really good adoption companies that my team works with if you're looking for one that's been trained." Dr. Carty started flipping through his folders and Jack felt a surge of excitement at the thought of getting his own dog.

"I'll run it past Y/n and see what she thinks. We much just go to a shelter." Jack saw the smile of contentment on the doctors face as he nodded in response. Jack hadn't even left the parking lot before calling Y/n to tell her he got the green light for a dog. When he walked into the front door he saw Y/n standing at the kitchen island with her laptop open.

"Okay so I've already found a few pups I think would complete your pretentious emo writer lifestyle." Y/n was bent over the counter and Jack took in a deep breath.

"Oh yeah? What have you found?" He leaned over her shoulder and looked at the dogs she had pulled up. They were all shelter pups with silly literature names.

"This one literally looks like a rat and it's name is Poe...liked Edgar Allen." She laughed. Jack put his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"What about this one...Duke." She pointed to a Great Dane and Jack laughed.

"Why not just get a horse." Jack teased making Y/n scoff.

"He can be a big sweet baby! Don't count the big ones out." Y/n kept scrolling through the pups and Jack moved her hair from her shoulder to kiss her neck.

"You off the rest of the day?" Jack asked rocking his hips into her ass so she could feel how hard he was.

"I switched with Candace. She's taking night shift so I can help you puppy search although something tells me your brain is in another place." Y/n let him squeeze her tits from behind her and she leaned her head back.

"Who knew therapy and dogs got you so worked up." She teased.

"Walking into the house and seeing my sexy girlfriend bent over the kitchen counter...that's what does it for me." She palmed Jack through his jeans and he groaned.

"Yeah? That's how you want me? Bent over the counter like this?" Y/n pushed her shorts down and Jack recognized the black underwear she was wearing. They were the same from the night she got naked outside and he was able to cum for the first time.

"Fuck...yes...this is exactly how I want you." Jack gave her ass a smack and watched it jiggle. Jack undid his jeans and pulled his cock out, jerking it to full hardness as he ran it over her ass.

"Mmm daddy's being a tease." Y/n bit her lip and look back at him. He twisted her arm behind her back and forced her to lay her face on the marble countertop. He slipped into her and it felt like her cunt was practically pulling him in. She hissed when he slapped her ass harder this time.

"You were wearing these panties the same night I watched you get undressed." Jack thrusted into Y/n steadily, talking over the sound of skin slapping against one another.

"All I kept thinking about was having you on your knees sucking my cock while I held your hair to face fuck you." Y/n moaned as he dug his fingertips into the meat of her hips.

"Yeah? You wanted to throat fuck me while I had my knees in gravel? How sadistic of you. Tell me AH- MORE!" Y/n shouted as Jack slammed into her deeper.

"I watched the way your ass jiggled and kept thinking, that's an ass I want sitting on my face while I tongue fuck her stupid." Jack gritted his teeth and Y/n whined pushing back onto his cock harder.

"Fuck Jack...I'm gonna cum already. Don't stop. Please don't stop." Y/n begged and Jack started fucking her faster, sloppier. He wanted to cum inside of her so badly. The more she moaned his name, the more he knew every time he was in the kitchen now, he would be hard as hell.

"Where do you want me to cum?" Jack asked frantically.

"Cum wherever you want to. I'm yours." He felt Y/n tighten around him and he pulled out just in time to paint the crimson hand prints he left on her skin with his cum. He jerked himself off until he was practically dribbling down his own fist. He could see Y/n's release running down her cunt to her thighs as she caught her breath. Jack put his cock back in his pants and walked around the counter to get a wet paper towel to clean her up with.

She felt the cool rag on her ass as he cleaned her and she started laughing. Jack stroked her back and pulled her shorts up until she raised her head to look at him.

"What's so funny?" He asked curiously.

"All I can think about right now is eating leftover pizza and getting high so I can take a ride on that pretty face of yours later." Jack matched her laugh and leaned down to kiss her.

"I'll grab the plates, you grab the joint." Jack heated up the pizza and carried it outside towards the pool where they had two lawn chairs. He grabbed two candles from under the sink and sat them on the table between them. When Y/n saw what he had set up, she smiled.

"You're getting so cheesy and I fucking love it." She gripped his chin to kiss him dramatically as she lit the joint and sat down opposite him.

"How was therapy?" Passed Jack the joint and took a bite of her pizza. Jack shrugged.

"It was really good. We talked about all my progress, I told him we've slept together..." Y/n snorted at how relaxed he had said that.

"You told your doctor we're on fucking terms now? How progressive of you." Y/n teased.

"I told him that we were together now...so naturally he asked if we had gotten intimate." Jack made a face as he repeated Dr. Carty's question.

"Did you tell him all the places in this house you've fucked me stupid?" She asked with a smile. Jack leaned towards and he nodded his head.

"Something like that." He kissed her lips and pulled back to lay on the chair.

"I'm proud of you, you know. You've really opened up since we first met. It's nice to be able to finally get to see who you are." Y/n took the joint and watched as Jack lit a cigarette.

"I want to say I couldn't have done it without you but I know you'll just give me shit-"

"Oh you would absolutely be lost without me." Y/n joked.

"Shanda is due to visit soon. She left me a voicemail about coming out but I didn't listen to the whole thing yet...I was kind of hoping you could meet her." Jack looked over at Y/n as she continued to eat.

"Yeah? You want me to meet your best friend?" She asked sweetly.

"Well both my parents are dead. You met my doctor in a less than normal fashion so I'd say it's time to meet the final boss." He looked over at her as he took another drag from the joint, forgetting about his cigarette in the ashtray.

Y/n got up from her own chair and sat in Jack's lap.

"I would love to meet your best friend Jack." Y/n rested her hands on his chest looking down at him.

"Good. I need to introduce her to my girl so I can brag about all the incredible sex we've been having." Jack smirked. Y/n laughed at him.

"I do believe you mentioned something about letting me ride that face..." Y/n reminded and Jack wrapped his arms around her torso, sitting up so he could lay her down on the lawn chair.

"We can do that right here, right now." She continued to laugh as Jack gripped her sides but they were both startled by the sound of a voice.

"Hey! No fucking on the pool chairs! I use those!" Shanda stood tall with holding the hand of a shorter brunette next to her. Jack's face lit up as he looked over at his best friend.

"Hey fucker! What are you doing here?" Jack asked still laying on top of Y/n.

"Visiting my stupid bitch best friend and his hot girlfriend." Shanda dropped her bag and Jack let Y/n up. He made the introductions and Y/n seemed to hit it off with them right away. Jack felt elated. It wasn't a feeling he thinks he's ever felt before but in this moment, that's the only thing he could think to describe it.

#Jack Thurlow #Jack Goes Home #Jack x Y/n #Jack Thurlow x Y/n #Glass Houses #Glass Houses Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #One Shot Series

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laylawatermelon · 3 months

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Now all we need is a queer club scene a la lone Star.

Buck would absolutely flourish, henren would be flirting, Eddie would be sitting at the bar doing a beer watching Buck like a hawk and sometimes smiling, Tommy would be in the void floating (sorry babe I'm a Buddie 4 lifer), and for a lil pizzazz Maddie and Chimney also go.

(it evolved into a tiny fic 🥺if you wanna read you can🥺)

ao3 link :

Ravi is probably there somewhere with someone in the VIP section looking down at them both happy but also a bit worried to see them.

(he's been working with them for a while now he knows the rumors of that many collective jinx powers they hold)

He sends them drinks periodically and they all wonder if someone is about to get a sugar daddy and then realize they're all couples so who's the couple who's getting a third?

Hen has her hands permanently glued to her wife's side and her head in her neck. She's murmuring sweet nothings and Karen giggles it away as she rubs any part of her that's closest to her and sips her drink.

Chimney and Maddie chat as they become a two-headed, four-limbed creation that smells of tequila, love, and laughter.

Maddie is constantly getting compliments on her shiny outfit and nails and ends up beside Buck periodically through the night, both of them like radiant sunlight to others.

Chimney also magically appears next to her almost instantaneously but vanishes and returns with drinks for his friends eventually chatting up the biggest guys he can on their gym regimen and suggesting they buy a calendar to support the new Asian Sex Symbol.

Of course, they sell a few copies.

Buck is the crown Jewel of the drag queens who are all shapes, sizes, and identities getting off of a show to have a nice night out.

He's marvelous and praises their outfits before quickly getting sucked into impromptu makeup and drag lessons, cards for shows, drunken histories, sexuality stories, and good ole fun lip-syncing.

And of course, since he's a bright star who everyone loves, many people begin their hunt.

A quick wink, a lingering smile, a hand on his lower back that lingers as long as a guy slides past him.

Okay, that's it.

Eddie orders another two beers, checking his phone for the babysitter's update before pocketing it.

He slides up behind Buck sliding a beer in his hand and resting his head on his shoulder his hand coming up to his waist.

The girls immediately gush about the two saying there are Two Hot Firefighters ready to put out their fire and Eddie bursts out in laughter.

They begin to fawn over him next complimenting his jawline and face suggesting he go into modelling or movies.

One of them says it's a waste but they'd be all fired up if they see him covered in soot. Another asks if he's on the same calendar as the sexy Asian guy.

Buck pouts telling them no and he's the focus again.

The drag queens then launch into a spiel about fire safety and if they could do a lecture at a show or help them.

Buck ends up video calling Bobby at the request and he and Athena are laying in bed amused as they watch him stumble through his words before a crowd of colorful queens squeeze into the frame.

He assumes them he'll think about it and the comment on Athena's beauty before the call is cut.

Bobby turns to Athena after the call and she laughs. "Your boy is always getting into trouble." He kisses her forehead softly. "We should go next time." "Let's."

Later that night as Christopher's finally dozing off, his phone slipping out of his hand he jolts at the sound of the front door bursting open.

Harry and Denny freeze on the phone, their faces both lit up by their computer screen, "What was that?"

Chris reaches for his glasses and slips them on staying quiet.

He listens again and relaxes as he hears giggles and shushes.

He rolls his eyes and pulls his covers over his head. "It's my dads."

The shuffling gets louder and he groans softly as his door is knocked on before it's pushed open.

Eddie grins down at his son's lying form and stumbles over as gracefully as he can. Buck is in the kitchen filling two (plastic) cups with water and shakily walking to his room.

Eddie walks to the left of his bed and kneels down resting his head on his arm.

He pats his head suddenly emotional, "I love you so much you know that?"

Chris frowns at his distressed tone but also notices the softness in his touch.

They watch him and Buck tiptoe in to hand Eddie a cup and rest his on a nightstand.

"We should probably let him sleep, okay babe?"

Eddie drinks from his cup smiling and pats Chris' head one last time. "Okay. Night son."

As they're leaving Buck sticks his head back in, "By the way your phone light is still asking through the blanket. Go to bed, Chris."

Harry and Denny burst out laughing and Chris promptly hangs up. He closes his eyes with a smile on his face as his dads fall into bed sloppily in the next room, leaving their problems for themselves tomorrow.

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randomprose · 11 months

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//part 2 of platonic itafushikugi. set after the kyoto goodwill school event//

i. the one where nobara and megumi cope | iii. the one about megumi

now posted on ao3!

Nobara crosses the corridor to the boys’ side of the dormitory and gets a sense of déjà vu when she sees Megumi hovering outside Yuuji’s bedroom.

It’s not a nightly thing—at least not on Nobara’s part. She’s stopped doing that after Yuuji quite literally came back from the dead. Seeing the familiar scene of Megumi waiting outside Yuuji’s door for… something , she can’t say the same thing for him.

Then again they just got back from another mission tonight where Yuuji, once again, had a really close call with death, and Nobara wonders if this is going to be a routine occurrence for them now.

("Why is it always him?" Megumi had grumbled earlier, but they both already knew the answer to that.)

Megumi’s got a pillow tucked under one of his arms and Nobara, clutching a pillow of her own, just sighs as she marches forward. The both of them didn’t bother with blankets because it’s not that cold tonight and Yuuji runs hot enough not to need spares. The boy is practically a walking furnace.

Nobara takes it upon herself to knock and announce they’re coming in because she suspects Megumi has been standing there for quite some time and if he hasn’t bothered to knock by now he never will. He’s probably still debating whether he should. Stupid boy.

“Oi, Itadori. I hope to the gods you’re decent and not at all doing something I dont wanna see ever ‘coz we’re going in.”

The door is unlocked and Nobara opens it before finishing her spiel. Yuuji looks at them in slight surprise from where he’s seated at the edge of his bed. It seems like he just starting to settle for the night. Good timing then.

“Kugisaki? Fushiguro?” Yuuji sounds confused like they haven’t been doing this for some time. “What’s up? Why are you guys—”

“I’m taking the wall this time,” Nobara announces, throwing her pillow at the corner and climbing past Yuuji. “I don’t wanna wake up on the floor like last time.”

“Guess that’ll be me then,” Fushiguro grumbles after her. “You know you’re the one who moves a lot in your sleep, right?”

“Oh! We’re having a sleepover! Cool!” Yuuji cheers, snuggling close to Nobara when Megumi tells him to scoot over and spreads his blanket across the three of them as best he can.

“Fushiguro, seriously. For what purpose do you feel the need to lie?” Lying on her side with her back pushed against the wooden wall, Nobara smirks, enjoying Megumi’s unimpressed stare. “C’mon. Let’s sleep already. I’m dead-ass tired and I need a full eight hours of beauty sleep if we’re gonna deal with Gojo-sensei tomorrow again.”

“Beauty sleep. Right,” Megumi snorts and snickers with Yuuji when Nobara grasps at one of the smaller pillows to hit him with.

“Shut up and turn off the light you sea urchin looking ass.”

Megumi flicks the light off and they mumble their good nights. Yuuji goes under almost immediately as the lights go off, but sleep doesn’t come as quick to Nobara.

Instead, she shifts closer to Yuuji, eliminating whatever little space they have left between them, and reveling in the warmth radiating off him. Her arm is draped over his torso and she focuses on feeling the rise and fall of his abdomen—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—and when Nobara’s hand travels up to feel the beating in his chest, she finds that a hand is already resting there, right where Yuuji’s heart rests, alive and pumping against his rib cage. Her fingers brush against long cold digits and when she opens her eyes, he sees Megumi looking at her.

Nobara stills but doesn’t look away from his expectant eyes. Megumi looks too alert in the dark and right here, the three of them tucked under Yuuji’s flimsy blanket that’s too small to fully cover them all, Nobara sees the open vulnerability in his too green eyes. There’s fear in them, something that doesn’t come as a surprise to her because, well, it was Megumi who got a front-row seat to the gory shitshow after all, but there’s understanding there too.

Images of how fucking messed up Megumi had been in the days following Yuuji’s death and how Nobara had to pick up the pieces flashes through her mind’s eye. He tried his best to hide it, but with only the two of them for a time spending their waking days at the school on missions and training, Nobara was bound to see through the cracks of Megumi’s thin veneer.

And Nobara is many things but she’s always been true to herself. She doesn’t say it and maybe she wasn’t as devastated as Megumi had been when Yuuji died (Jesus Christ, she wonders if the surreality of that will ever fade), but she’s her friend too and she's learned to care for him in the sparse time they’ve known each other much to her chagrin. Living through one too many life-threatening events tends to do that to people. If nothing else, Jujutsu Tech is really proficient in trauma bonding its students.

So, Nobara lays her hand on top of Megumi’s, squeezes it once feeling his cracked knuckles underneath her palm, and hopes she conveys the same understanding in the small gesture.

Megumi gets it and he shifts his hand minutely to slot their fingers together, his long calloused ones trapping Nobara’s smaller softer digits in between, and squeezes back.

They fall asleep like that, hand in hand, lulled to calm and sleep by the rhythmic beating of Yuuji’s heart, tucked safe and alive between them.

edit: now posted on ao3! also turning this into a 3 chaptered fic centered on each incident about them! next up will be megumi getting hit by hanami's cursed plants.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushikugi #kugisaki nobara #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #i love them pls #i wish we have more filler stories about them #writing

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roleplayhonestybox · 3 months

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Just some time to whine - and no, it's not that I don't understand, I do - but I just feel so frustrated and disappointed now I could cry. So here's my totally first world problem rant: My RP partner says they have finally a long weekend due to the holiday - Thursday to Sunday - and they are looking forward to write aaaaaaall four days. They make it a really big thing and talk about it and are excited. They wanna write ALL day. EVERY day. AAALL the stuff they'll be writing. Because they can't really do asymmetrical and I always need to be around for them to write. Which is fine. I can do that. Life's rough, I understand. They are American. I am not. I'm European with a hefty time difference and a full work week. So I shovel Friday completely free - cancel all appointments - and even a chunk of my Thursday work day. I can't just take them off - I need to stuff the work I would have done on Friday and that chunk from Thursday and work it off on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Which made my days extremely long and exhausting, but I thought: hey, it's for a good cause! We're going to write like the devil. All day. Every day. Thursday comes, I rush out of work, it all starts wonderfully. We're both excited. Then a problem comes up. Family stuff. Understandable. We spend the night chatting. One things leads to another, the topic gets really dark. I try to be a good friend. I try to help. I stay up until 9am in my time zone. I really don't sleep a lot that night. Friday comes, and they're exhausted. They're tired. They sleep most of the time of the day I took off for us. So we could write, like they wanted to. Saturday comes. They said they'd be around nice and early. I'm around nice and early. They aren't. They were tired and went back to sleep (and couldn't even let me know with a short message - knowing that I was waiting). The RP drags on and I spend the day waiting and waiting - for literal hours.

Sunday comes. Same spiel. They are tired. They have kids to watch. They need a nap. They need to cook.

In the end, I got one or two replies per day for the threads I got to choose. Each day, but, yeah, with me being around for roughly 15 hours for them each day, too. There are a few more replies for the quick things they wanted to do and their favourite is something I absolutely struggled through because I wanted to make them happy, but my heart's really not in it. But I want to be a good RP partner. I want to be a good friend.

So, yes, I understand. Family and real life first. There's no lack of understanding. It's a hobby. Nobody can change how tired they are. Nobody can influence when life fucks with plans. I understand. I am not blaming them. I am not trying to be difficult. I'm not a bitch about it.

But this whole thing I worked for so hard to make it even happen turned out to be such a fucking disappointment and full of frustration that I honestly just want to cry. It just fell so flat I don't even have words for it. No word again that I cancelled everything to be with them, but maybe they don't even realise or remember, because they slept half the time.

(Also: no, I'm normally not the one to expect several replies every day. They can't RP on workdays? Fine. They need time to go through stuff? Fine. They get sick and can't write? absolutely no problem, of course. They stopped replying to so many threads in the past and I've been waiting for weeks or months sometimes, so that's not my problem here. But when we make arrangements to sit together for the sole purpose of writing all day and I clear my schedule for three and a half days - it frustrates me when I sit around and wait for hours for a single reply - just to clarify.)

So with all due respect and necessary understanding - I know they didn't choose this - I'm just so angry, too. Not at them. But that this didn't work out, at all. And I can't even show it because it would hurt them, because I know they were just exhausted and tired and it's not their fault - and I don't want that.

Goddamn, I was looking forward to this so much and I feel so hollow right now, because I spent most of these past three and a half days waiting for them... I feel like I could have done more productive things in three days that would have made me feel much better.

I need a hug...

(sorry for the rant...)

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glowinggreeneyes-e · 10 months

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In honour of PSC’s interview, here’s the Captain and Havers dancing:

Momentarily, the Captain unplugged his headset and turned the machine’s output to its speakers, lowering its volume to a comfortable level. “It’s variety hour on the Forces Programme, so we’ll have to settle with the BBC Home Service, I’m afraid,” he said, mostly to himself, as the mature timbre from a woman’s voice crackled through the speakers, accompanied by a few wind instruments fluttering with notes at the high end of their range. He shook his head as he heard the recording mellowed out into a presenter. “They always play the most melancholic of tunes at night, do they not think some classical gusto or perhaps uplifting melodies would be more appropriate?”

“I think people want to listen to a song that reflects how they are feeling. And did you dishonour both Frances Langford and Falling in Love With Love in front of me?” Havers shook his head disapprovingly. He guessed that they could turn off their professional idiosyncrasies at this point, and he was glad to be rid of it.

The Captain suppressed a grin at his Lieutenant’s charming yet biting comment. “I suppose I did. But I did not realise you held any strong opinions about music.”

“I did not realise you held so few. Though, I should not be at all surprised,” Havers returned the shot, leaning against the back of the chair.

When he tilted back his neck, stretching and sprawling his legs out under the desk, the Captain glanced over the lengths of soft, exposed skin.

Remembering he should be offended by essentially being called uncultured, the Captain cleared his throat to shake off his flustering state. He unknowingly squinted at Havers in the same manner as when he was exposed to something queer. “Now, whatever do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never seen you dance or enjoy music: you never put on records of your own volition and whenever you turn on the BBC you prefer their breaking news, bulletins, and updates from the front. Would it hurt you to switch your brain off and enjoy a bit of this?” the Lieutenant gestured vaguely to the new song coming through on the airwaves.

“I-I enjoy the works of Vera Lynn; she’s got a wonderful voice. And the talents of Glenn Miller and his orchestra,” the Captain replied without considering an actual thought-out rebuttal.

Immediately, he recoiled; his first thought was that Havers would spiel judging words for his overtly formal talk and by virtue of holding such an inoffensive opinion - that was the reaction he had known to expect from anyone else. When he managed to look at Havers, he was met by a nonchalant expression and a raised eyebrow that prompted him to go on.

“To tell you the truth, Havers, I don’t think I have danced in my entire adulthood.”

“Would you like to?”

It was the lack of ceremony that caught the Captain off-guard by the proposition. If the past month had all been a dream, nothing marked the end of it quite as much as a dance. But reality demanded he react instead of replay the moment.

He stumbled to reply, unfortunately having the effect of being uninterested; he’d had all kinds of thoughts about the Lieutenant in their time together, but not one was ‘uninterested’.

Havers hung his head, lightly laughing away his suggestion. “I apologise. You don’t want to dance with a man.”

“No! No- I-” the Captain struggled to string a sentence together in his head, let alone verbalise anything. Thinking quickly, he got to his feet and extended his arm down with his palm upturned. He knew he didn’t look the picture of a dancer, or that he was particularly handsome enough to ask to dance, but he wanted to try in the safe presence and direction of Havers. “They’re playing Moonlight Serenade… it’s my favourite.”

Havers considered the outstretched hand, only briefly, before slipping their fingers together as he joined his CO on the makeshift dance floor. The Captain stood close, his eyes capering over the man holding his hand as if he hadn’t long-admired the Lieutenant’s almond eyes and heart-shaped jaw and, well, his quite strapping arms. He coveted the features of his second-in-command every day, never bored of beholding them: the pointy tips of his ears, the brown stubble that lightly scrabbled beneath his skin, and the sculpture of his lips.

Something - or things - had changed within the Captain, gradually. Then the other night, in the shed with his Lieutenant, marvelling at their limpet mine, revelations had rained down all at once like comets falling across the sky above. He could no longer ignore the younger man standing before him, already providing serendipitous companionship and neat ends to his beginnings. He’d come to accept what he felt was more than a mere fondness for Havers; he wanted his heart to decide on his idolatrous fate, though his head wanted to know if Havers was receptive to more. Above all new revelations, it was that ‘if’ which hurt most to think about.

Briefly recalling Officer Jones’ enigmatic words on New Year’s Eve, and luckily not those of his father, he conceived that he was hurting himself. He could fend off his family’s expectations from beyond their graves for now. They had served their purpose, they meant well, but his new life at Button House had demanded he had to change. Perhaps too quickly. There was no time to unpack all that; there was a War on, after all.

They had a restrictive space to move in, shutting down the opportunity to practise dancing in any traditional styles, so Havers led them to the centre of the floor’s open square feet and decided the song deserved a slow-pacing movement. He instructed the Captain to place his free hand on his waist, where his uniform belt sat, while he held the Captain’s shoulder.

“It’s in four-four time, so start by stepping outside foot outside, inside foot outside, repeat, together, then change direction,” Havers demonstrated in small steps.

Eye to eye, it was initially much harder for the Captain to concentrate on how to move, enamoured by Havers’ easygoing guidance. In spite of this, he copied the instructions, mirroring his movements. The Lieutenant drifted between stages of the dance self-assuredly, ignoring every mistake and continuing on. Fairly soon, the Captain got used to the rhythm and lost in the song, though his heart stuttered where words would fail should he have had to speak. The proximity was dizzying.

Havers was soon happy enough to introduce another part to his lesson.

“Like a circle, then together, apart,” he reassured as they turned around in the office together.

It was a little clumsy at first, with almost every step nearly causing a twisted ankle, until the Captain had steadied his arms and strides. The song didn’t demand more creative actions so they switched between the two gaits. The Captain nervously laughed once they had successfully changed direction, but he kept his head up like he was told. Havers always carried himself with governing conviction which continued into the dance; the Captain enjoyed being subordinate for once.

The orchestral Serenade ended with a melodic coda of wind instruments which they matched with smooth, gliding pivots.

As the song faded into another instrumental piece, this one somehow slower, they didn’t let go of each other. They kept watch of the other man, looking for the slightest hint that they should call it off and step back, but that never came.

“Hold me closer,” Havers directed soothingly, “the song… it’ll suit it better.”

The Captain moved his hand, almost paralysed from being held so still on Havers’ waist, around the man’s back until it could nearly cup the other side of his torso. There, he let it relax, and slowly his body melted from its previous rigidity. Their hips were almost pinned together, in fact when they started moving it was hard to keep any distance between their bodies.

Havers was nearly in raptures when he felt the Captain take on the leading role. When they pulled in their still-interlocked hands close to their chests, the rest of the room dissolved away into a shallow blur.

“Are there any more moves for this sort of song?” the Captain asked, trying to cover his drying throat and scratching vocal chords.

“Not exactly. By this point, couples would rest their heads together, maybe the woman would place her head on the man’s chest or shoulder. It’s meant to be a sensual moment. Some songs, like this one, are meant to be heard by only two people at once. Together.”

As Havers’ friend, the shared intimate space was sacred and Orphean. In uniform - as the Lieutenant’s CO - he suddenly felt disturbed. Thoughts intruded on his serene moment, biting at his contentment with guilt-ridden rhetoric. It was in his own voice, his father’s voice, every superior’s voice, that these thoughts flooded his working memory.

How could you be so selfish? How could you betray your rank? Your country? Your sensibilities? How dare you abandon hierarchy and the War and proper priorities? How could you allow your mind to be corrupted? Are you that weak?

Again, the friction in his mind overwhelmed him easily. “Sorry, I think the tiredness has hit me all at once,” the Captain said as he broke off their embrace.

But Havers kept him close, holding the Captain by his waist then quickly moving his hands to a more appropriate grasp on his biceps. He held the Captain’s gaze, unwavering. “Something has been troubling you for a while now.”

(They need to have many difficult conversations; but locked in the arms of the other it is a bit easier)

#fanfic #capvers #writing #ao3 #interview #dancing #caphavers #tawgo #angst #but like they’re flirty af

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roseamongroses · 1 year

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its called the parker curse not the morales curse 😒

atsv spoilers under cut

ok...jokes aside. after a certain point when miguel was going in on miles, i don't think he was talking about miles anymore.

and to be clear, what he said and how he said it can't be easily taken back--scorched earth yada yada-- so its impact still stands. but if you've ever had an argument as a child with a traumatized + unhealed adult-- it felt like that.

had me sweating in the theatre because you can feel him projecting HEAVY mid-way through. the way he dealt with miles, even before he started the hunt, def felt like he was punishing his past self / trying to stop his past self rather then understand a new situation +person

the assumptions he was making about miles and how he handles multi-dimensional travel, seem to lean heavy on fear. and that makes sense considering his past, but i do think only viewing justice within the lens of fearing what may happen isn't productive in the long run.

they still don't know how these initial dimensional slip ups happen before the collider exploded and bagel guy showed up. (or do they???lol) nor do they know what decides canon and non-canon (i remember the comic book authority approval at the beginning of the film and i wonder if they get mentioned again or if its just a one off joke)

(getting a lil meta there, do you think we'll get a lego movie esq ending next movie???mfkers wake up and realize they're comic book characters)

on the conflict

personally i love a good "hero tries to save them all, and realizes their innate limitations" type storyline, but i don't think that's the conclusion they're going for.

for example i thought Pavitr would def get his shit rocked after his spiel about being spiderman being easy and that he's happy. and he did go through something (and probably will go through something else considering he has a living girlfriend )

BUT he was able to reach out for help instead. he couldn't do it all, but he didn't have to. and i think that plot line is just as compelling as him failing outright and dragging himself out of the trenches as a lonely hero.

the "save one person vs. an entire dimension" conflict is interesting because miles is a believer in "why not both". often times with these trolly problem esq. situations, the person who questions the existence of the dilemma is dismissed.

miles is considered naive because he thinks he can "do it all". but i don't think thats the case. miles considers both because despite the trauma, he's been surrounded by a loving community who sees the best in him.

so he knows (consciously or not) that he can do both because he's not alone. he is the lone spiderman, but that doesn't have to be the case. that's why he was so excited for the spider-club cause he thought he wouldn't have to endure alone, but instead he was met with the fact that the club was meant to reaffirm their loneliness rather then circumvent it.

(also the possibility of this franchise introducing other heros later on is something im begging for btw but ik copyright will nuke that)

if miles is an anomaly, the possibility of his events deviating from the norm does exist. miles had the right to question if it was really the only way or if miguel just didn't want to try otherwise. and to be honest im questioning if miles was really the first anomaly considering we don't have all the details about miguel's backstory

on comics

what does it mean to be spiderman? to uphold goodness? to be a compelling hero?

For a lot of the characters explored, their justice is tied to their suffering. they are good heros because they've seen the worst and wil. endure the worst and that's what makes them compelling. but with this "new" generation of heroes, that doesn't hold up when we consider intersectional identities and what the audience desires to see from their hero's.

if the audience is already enduring and suffering in their day-to-day lives what can they get out of a story that only reaffirms the daily injustices of their reality. i don't want heros that look like me if they only uphold the status quo "suffer, work, live, be good". that isn't enough. i love me some angst, but what else makes the story compelling???

i read the superhero genre because i want better. I want to be able to fight back, to question, to explore. to stretch the idea of what goodness and justice looks like for communities that are used to being told to accept the bare minimum and just survive.

#atsv spoilers #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #miles morales #miguel ohara #Pavitr Prabhakar #hobie brown #peter b parker #gwen stacy #marvel #comics #marvel comics #long post

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mane--attraction · 11 months

Text

It's that time of year again when haunted houses are in full swing, and despite your best efforts, you are going alone to have some fun getting spooked. Might you get more than you bargained for, however?

Word Count: 5015. Yeah. This one kinda got away from me lol. Fun fact, this is now my longest fic ever. This was also supposed to be done for last year, but I clearly vastly underestimated how long this was going to be.

Mild knifeplay, "kidnapping," gender neutral but afab reader. Murdock x reader. Potentially inaccurate haunted house depiction.

MINORS DNI!

~~~

Dusk dapples the sky while you stand in line, waiting for the local haunted house event to open its doors, rubbing your arms to ward off the beginnings of a chill in the air. Despite living here a while, this is your first time you've built up the nerve to go. It takes up the entire fairgrounds, with multiple houses under one event. You had extended an invitation to Murdock, because you were sure it was right up his alley, but he declined, citing work. He's been away an awful lot this month, despite his best efforts, and you were hoping to spend more time with him out and about instead of just within your four walls and between the sheets. But alas, it seems like it's not to be, and you had reassured him it was alright, even as you tried to mask your disappointment.

You mostly relegate all that to the back of your mind, your excitement more prominent now that you're here. You hesitated to attend in the years prior because some of the houses were interactive, where the actors could grab you. It was one of the selling points you had used to appeal to Murdock, animatedly mimicking it in the air, although you wonder now that you think about it if that was a deal breaker for him; after all, thanks to his…line of work, would he have reacted negatively? The last thing either of you need, especially him, is legal action.

Regardless, you're not sure now why it was such a problem for you that you didn't even try the normal houses; and after all, it's not like the ones where they can touch you have free reign. Although you do have to fill out a liability form, so maybe that's why you over-thought it in the past.

You're at the front of the line before you realize it, handing over your money—extra for the specialty houses—and signing the necessary forms. The woman in the booth puts on your wristband and gives you a map and a spiel that she's already had to recite multiple times, but you are eating up every word, grinning excitedly.

"Welcome to our little town of horrors, where the streets and fields are home to a great many spooky things, where the veil between the supernatural and our world grows thinner by the day. But beware: it's not just the ghost and ghouls that are out to get you… Good luck."

And with that, you're free to start exploring. You wander around for a little bit, gaining your bearings on the area, but it isn’t long before impatience overtakes you and you head towards the first haunted house. The smell of food is enticing, as are the Halloween-themed carnival games, but that all can wait. The best way to tackle this is head-on, even if you're sure these beginning houses are going to be pretty okay. This is, after all, just a local event, even if it does pull in quite the crowd. Plus, you’re starting at the tamest one, with plenty of kids out front, so you’ll be fine.

Let the spookening begin.

Your first house was actually a little underwhelming because of being geared so young, but you worked your way through the other two houses you wanted to try before getting to the “final boss” of the haunted houses tonight. You were sufficiently spooked, both through corridors and a corn maze, but the goal wasn’t “sufficient.” With slightly overpriced pizza sitting in your stomach, you start towards your final destination.

Excitement and nervousness, stronger than before, bubble together the closer you get, the previous scares coming to your mind’s eye, but you force yourself through it rather than chicken out. You didn’t come all this way just to back out. You do wish Murdock was here, though; you’d feel a lot better if he was. Things seem less scary with a man like him by your side. The screams from within startle you from your thoughts. You swear they're louder here.

The attendant checks your wristband to make sure you're allowed in, then waves you along into the corral with the next batch of "victims." You fidget with your hands and glance around at the rest of the event. It's only now you realize how physically isolated this house is from the others.

"First time?"

You turn to see a guy around your age with a group of a few others, probably his friends. You chuckle, your nervousness evident. "Yeah. I went through some of the others already, just this one left."

The guy grins, while the two girls resume some quiet discussion. "It'll be fine. They'll just push you and tug on your clothing a bit, maybe grab your hand, but nothing too bad."

"As if you don't scream every time," one of the girls pipes up from her conversation.

He huffs, only half insulted, and you can't help but giggle in tandem with the girls. "I do not—"

“Do too.” The girl who spoke grins. “I bet you’d scream real loud if we went to one of those newer places where they can drag you off somewhere”

“They actually allow that?” you interject, eyes rounding in surprise.

“Yeah, I heard a couple of the big popular places are adding that as a feature.” The girl pulls her coat around her, the wind kicking at everyone’s legs. “It’ll probably never happen here, though. Not with everything that’s happened recently.”

While it does genuinely take you a moment, you nod and go “ah” as if you aren’t in flagrante delicto with the culprit of crimes a few towns over. A culprit whom you were originally planning on bringing here— Thankfully, you’re almost to the door of the house, so the group’s focus is more on getting in than on you, and nobody seems to notice your smile growing a bit taut.

“Hey, why don’t you stick with us?” The other girl you haven’t spoken with yet bounces on her feet.

“Yeah, it’s more fun as a group,” the guy says. His buddy nods.

“Sure,” you say, the twisty feeling in your stomach loosening. “The more the merrier, right?”

Everyone in the group gives some form of acknowledgement, and then the attendant cuts in with their spiel about the theming—a mansion, run down with time after the owner and his staff’s mysterious disappearances…if that’s really what happened. Rumor has it that something terrible befell everyone inside—and they might think you’re to blame, if you’re not careful. They also bring up reminders about protocol while in the house. You've heard all of it at the other haunted houses here, and not much changes with the addition of physicality; as always, if it gets too overwhelming, there are ways out that all the performers know.

The buddy turns to you once the speech is done. “What’s your name, by the way?”

You introduce yourself, and he repeats your name. “Nice to meet you.” He gives his own name and sounds off everyone else’s. You try and commit it all to memory, even if you’re not sure how well it will stay.

“Nice to meet all of you.”

And with that, you step over the threshold, and the door slams shut behind you. You jump higher than you think is warranted, but the scaredy cat in the group does in fact let out a yelp, which sets everyone off laughing. You collectively take a moment to consider the path in front of you: a narrow corridor, flickering with sickly yellow lighting, the remnants of pumped-in fog curling at the floor.

You’re not entirely certain who steps forward first, but it definitely isn’t you. Despite knowing this is all fake and having already gone through other hallways similar to this one, it still has enough of a thrall to induce a silence that grows more tense the further you all get. The walls are eerily similar to how you would imagine a decrepit mansion to be, wallpaper peeling off in sheets, and you find yourself suspicious of every dark spot in the wall. Even the mirrors in the supposed foyer, cracked and broken, are suspect. The sounds of a creaking house and muffled howling winds are piped in; quiet enough to make you second guess where you are, but loud enough that it almost feels too loud in the enclosed space.

One of the girls lets out a shriek, pulling away suddenly from the wall, and you practically jump out of your skin. She giggles nervously. “It got me!”

Everyone else follows suit, letting out a laugh that normally would release tension. You can only speak for yourself when you think about how it didn’t much help.

“Get out! The master is gone: Get out while you still can!”

The warning, shouted at a frightening pitch, kicks your group forward, everyone pressing together as the hall narrows more, then widens again, a bend ahead of you all. You feel a hand against your sleeve, and you jank it back quickly with a surprised curse. A cold breeze tickles your neck, and it takes all your willpower not to shriek, even though that is perfectly in spirit with a haunted house (pun not intended). “Please tell me someone else felt that cold air?” you squeak.

“Yeah, I did,” says the guy in front of you. You already can’t tell which one he is.

The wood beneath your feet groan as you all continue forward, the sconces flickering with the yellow light your eyes have gotten used to. You shove your hands into your pockets; the closer you keep your limbs, the less likely they are to be grabbed. The door handle beside your group rattles. It’s not fake. You all move a little quicker.

The floorboards creak behind you, and you feel like you turn as if in slow motion to see a man standing in the middle of the hallway in a mask, human-like but definitely not human. Every feature is exaggerated just enough to be unnatural, and in this place, it works a little too well. With his frame, he seems to take up the entire hallway; and if not physically, then with his presence. Your eyes lock onto him, and you stop walking, as if he’s frozen you in place. Everything else disappears: no sound, no sight except for this man. And there’s something about him…

The man lets out a guttural growl, the kind that sends genuine fear into the pit of your stomach. You’re the first to scramble to run the moment he shifts to pursue, pushing through the rest of your group, the spell broken, but everyone else soon follows suit, screams echoing in the tiny corridor. You're not sure where theirs end and yours begins. You whip your head around just long enough to confirm where the man is before you round the corner, and your line of sight is perfect to see him between everyone’s heads, the unsettling lighting warping the mask more. You swear you see a knife in his hand.

Finally, after a few minutes of running, one of the girls must have glanced back, because you hear her call out behind you, "He's gone!" Your feet don't quite get the memo, and you find yourself out ahead of the group as you slow and catch your breath.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself. Why did that scare you so much?

“Are you okay?” one of the guys asks. You nod.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It’s half a lie, and you laugh nervously. “Just part of the experience, right?”

“Right.”

“We should probably keep moving though. Who knows when the next person’s gonna jump out at us.” Despite not being fully ready, you lead the group forward, trying to figure out what it was this time. It’s probably not that deep, but it feels important to figure out.

However. Something occurs to you.

That mask didn't look like it belonged in this house

Teeth bared in a snarl too wide to be natural, prominent eyebrows casting shadows over the eyes, more creature than human, despite being human-like. Surely it's just a mistake, but all the other houses have been meticulous with what they had to work with, so for a slip-up to happen now seems odd. Although, it could still fit, since it had been said nobody knew what happened to the occupants of the mansion. That doesn't quite explain, however, why his outfit—including an almost knee-length modern coat with pants—wasn't that of a servant, nor the head of the mansion…

“That was a pretty good scare,” says one of the girls behind you.

“Yeah, that felt so visceral,” says the other. "Wild."

“I have the heebie jeebies.” It’s that guy, the scared one.

“You always get the ‘heebie jeebies.’”

He huffs. “Shut up—”

You slow down, falling to the back of the group. You swear you hear something that isn’t just the sound system, but maybe it's just your overactive imagination. After all, anyone would be on high alert after being chased. The guy you haven’t spoken to gives you a look that you almost miss, but you don't explain yourself. No point.

“I thought this was supposed to be more grabby.”

“Maybe we just haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“I know this place is big, but it’s not that big.”

“They probably just want to build up the spookiness,” you interject, even if you’re not fully convinced, yourself.

“Ah, that would make sense.”

You stop in front of another destroyed mirror, pieces scattered on the table under it. Your own face is almost unrecognizable, horridly lit and fractured in the reflection, concern and fear staring back at you.

“YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

It comes from up ahead, and it snaps you from your trance, but instead of seeing your new acquaintances, you see…nobody. Everyone is gone. Even the voice you heard isn’t visible to you.

You swear you see a bit of the one girl's hair trailing behind her at the bend ahead, but you're much too far away already, and you're not sure they noticed you're not with them yet. It stings a little, even if you know they didn’t mean anything by it, but your nervousness overpowers that, the uncertainty of what lies ahead gnawing at you. You jog forward, just fast enough to hopefully catch up with the rest of the group—

You hear a loud THUMP somewhere behind you, startling you enough to jump. With the way the ground vaguely vibrates, whatever hit the floor must have done so pretty hard. You swallow thickly. “Guys?” you call out. No answer. You jog with more urgency now, your footfalls and heartbeat equal tempo in your ears. More than likely, they didn’t hear you because of ambience, but you fear they’ve gotten too far away in such a short span of time. You pick up speed—

—but there’s another noise behind you, a shuffling, that has you stop again, head whipping around to try and find the source. With the corners so dark, it’s impossible to tell if someone is there or if it was just an animal that found its way in. You stand there for a few seconds longer than you should, staring into the darkness. Something is up, and the lack of anything actually happening is making this so much worse than being physically pushed and pulled in different directions. You’re not a haunted house expert by any means, but this place has been far too quiet. Slowly, you continue to move forward, the faux fog growing thicker with less bodies to disturb it. The floor creaks uncomfortably loud. You don’t remember any mention about multiple pathways, so where the hell is everyone?

There's a tug on your hair, and you barely suppress a yelp, but you suppose it was an accident…although it was rather close to your scalp; how did someone get that close without you realizing after all this time…

Suddenly, there's a hand clamped around your wrist, jolting you, and you'd think it a coincidence if it wasn't for the one wrapping around your mouth, dragging you to someone and into the shadows. You scream, but it's muffled, drowned out by the suddenly overly loud sound system, and your efforts to struggle out of your assailant's grip are futile, holding you tightly against their body as they maneuver you with much more ease than you'd expect. It's honestly kind of scary how little you're affecting them. Their hands are oddly cool against your skin, and then you realize it's not their skin, but some material.

Leather.

A door slams open behind you, and you're dragged into a room. The outside noises are muffled, then dampened once the door shuts again, trapping you in the dim space with whoever has kidnapped you. You're still yelling, trying to stomp on their feet and throw your head back against their chin, but their shoes are too solid and they're too tall to headbutt. Your hands twist around to pinch or scratch, but all you get is fabric.

"Sweet thing," a man's voice growls into your ear, "you better cooperate, or else this will be a lot more difficult for you."

The person's hands shift, and hope surges that you'll get an opening, but before you can get very far in acting through it, you're forced to the ground face down, hips suddenly pressed up against you, and you freeze. He's rock hard.

"Or you can struggle all you like. Doesn't much matter to me." Somehow, you can tell there's a grin to his voice. "It just encourages me to try harder."

It takes you a moment too long to try and buck him off, gnashing your teeth. "Get off of me! You'll be sorry!"

You feel the man throb, and he laughs lowly. "Sorry how, sweetheart? A pretty thing like you, at my mercy…"

The chill of metal against your skin startles you into freezing again, and something about it seems…familiar. The cogs take a moment to turn, but then they click into place. You know that voice. "Murdock?"

He's quiet for a moment, then chuckles. "Well, well. Smart cookie. Not that I expected anything less from my kitten.”

Considering the shock of it all prevented you from thinking straight, he's lucky you didn't panic more. "Wh— What are you doing here? I had thought—"

"I couldn't resist the opportunity." Murdock tosses something to the ground—a mask he was apparently wearing. "And work…ended much sooner than I thought."

The lighting is terrible, but your eyes focus on the mask, which stares back at you with a bared grin, more bestial than you realized, and a memory flashes: Being pursued down the hall, sickly yellow light flashing across its exaggerated features— "But how—"

He shushes you, hands trailing across your neck to expose it to him. "I have my ways, sweetling. Not everyone is as careful as they could be." He starts pressing startlingly soft kisses to your neck, although it isn't long before they become more insistent, and you bite your lip and shiver. "Yourself included."

His dangerous tone sets off a nervousness in the pit of your stomach: it’s the type of tone he uses when you’ve been misbehaving. “L-listen, Murdock, I carry that pepper spray with me, you know I’ll be okay—”

“Do I? After all, look at how easily I stole you away…”

Shit. He’s not wrong. "You—you’re just abnormally strong.” You swear you hear a light chuckle, but you ignore it and squirm in one more attempt to get free. “The others, they're— they're waiting for me—"

"Are they?" He can't hide the hint of possessiveness that creeps into his voice, and one of his hands presses into your back to stop you. "They can wait, sweetheart. We haven't had our fun yet."

The sharp tip of something presses against your center, and you yip, jolting forward. “Don’t you dare! I’m not about to replace these—”

“Alright, I won’t. Help me get you out of them, then."

His hands push their way under your coat to find the band of your jeans, and a half second after he starts, your brain jumpstarts again and you scramble to assist him, finding the waistband before he does and pushing it down your body. Murdock takes over when it rounds your ass, shoving the material to your knees with impatience. You try and kick them off, although it is very difficult in this position; he helps a little bit, but once you’ve gotten it off one leg, he grips your thighs, forcing you to stay still. Slowly, the cold metal of the flat of his blade trails over your skin: along your thigh, pressing against the underside of your ass, across and down to the other thigh…then it’s pressing against your core again, and with nothing but your underwear left to protect you, you can’t help but whimper.

“These are easily replaceable, though. Aren’t they, kitten?”

His knife pushes a little firmer against you, and your breathing shudders. It takes everything within you not to press back. “...Yes, sir.”

His grin is as clear as day in his voice this time. “Perfect.”

It’s the only warning you get before a gloved finger hooks between your skin and the cotton, pulling it away just enough to allow the knife to slip through and slice. Your underwear offers no resistance, cut through like butter and exposing you in an instant. The cold only chills you for a moment, his groin back against yours and grinding roughly, and all you can do is fail to hold back your moan. He only does this for a few seconds before pulling back. His jingling belt gives away his intentions, and your blood pumps faster in anticipation.

“Do you think you’re ready? Hm?” There’s a soft sound and fabric going flump, and his bare hand is on your clit, rubbing intensely. You gasp wildly, nodding without actually knowing if you are or not. Murdock’s fingers dip into you, checking for himself. You don’t resist lifting your hips towards them, trying to guide them further in with a desperate whine. He just teases you, sliding back and forth and occasionally thumbing your sensitive nub.

“Please,” you whisper without thinking.

“What’s that?” Fuck, he sounds so smug, and you’d love to snap back at him for it, but him slowing to a snail’s pace is too distracting. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Please, Murdock!”

His fingers leave you, and you pout and whine quietly. However, his zipper popping open has you changing your tune. “One more try.”

There’s little hesitation from you. “Pleasefuckme!”

“Mm.” His head slides through your folds, and you gasp again. This time, his gloved hand stills you before you can move. “Music to my ears.”

That’s all the warning you get before he slowly slides into you, gripping your hips. You squeak, lashes fluttering as your breaths come out in puffs, adjusting to how almost easily he stretches you. He rubs at you a little more, and he sinks in the rest of the way. A low moan is his reward, followed by one of his own. Murdock hardly moves at first, simply grinding within you and rocking his hips in shallow movements. Then, suddenly, he draws back all the way and snaps his hips against yours, and you yelp in surprise. You aren’t given much of a reprieve before he does it again. And again. And again. And each time, you let out a shout, although you try to muffle yourself, thinking you hear footsteps in the hall. At any moment, someone from the staff could come in here. Does he know this?

Better question is, does he care? You’re not sure if you want to admit that it kind of turns you on.

Murdock starts a steady pace, not so intense as before but just as overwhelming. You’re panting already, struggling to keep quiet. He notices and chuckles. "Go ahead and scream." His command is uncannily punctuated by muffled screams from within the haunted house proper. "Do you really think they can hear you over everyone else’s, let alone the sounds from the haunted house itself?" His breath is hot by your ear. "Nobody's going to investigate, sweet thing. I have you all to myself, now."

That shouldn’t excite you as much as it does, holding back a whimper, yet you can’t hold back the way you tighten around him. He slows, as if making sure of something, then growls. “Oh, naughty thing. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You clamp your mouth shut, hoping that if you don’t answer, he’ll leave it alone. But alas, your body betrays you once more, and Murdock stops, a certain something sharp that you forgot about dragging against your neck just enough for you to be aware of it, your breath catching. “Answer me, kitten.”

“Yes, sir.” The reply rushes from your lips with more neediness than you thought it would have.

“First you let your ‘kidnapper’ fuck you, now this?” he teases, clicking his tongue with mock disappointment. “Seems I need to learn more about my kitten.”

Your face flushes intensely. It’s no different than when he’s chased you out in the woods, and he knows this. He just can’t help himself…but also he’s more than willing to play into the role of pursuer. This you know well.

“Maybe I should be making you beg more for me to fuck you.” His gloved hand trails along your thigh. “But I’m much too impatient for that.”

His grip grows tight enough to bruise, his thrusts growing intense to match, and you let out a sound unlike any you’ve made thus far, wild and raw and overwhelmed with pleasure. Murdock laughs, triumphant and deep like his thrusts, and more than tinged with lust. It almost seems to settle into your bones.

“God. What a rush you give me.”

His pace is technically slower now, but that doesn’t matter with the way your eyes roll with every impact. You feel him lean over, but don’t know what’s happening until his lips reach your neck, kissing and sucking the skin he can find. Your moan is so whorish that it would embarrass you under different circumstances. His lips curl against your neck, although you barely comprehend that’s what’s happening. You try and reach your hand to your clit, but he beats you to it, only to rub so harshly that you practically sob out a cry. “FUCK!”

“If you insist,” he says, his strained voice giving away how much you’re affecting him. That hand travels back up to hold your hip in a vice grip. He lets out that same guttural growl from earlier, this time low and long, and with it directly in your ear, you nearly lose your mind, fluttering madly around him. You're so close—

"There it is. There we are." Murdock growls again, shorter but nowhere less effective. "Do it. Cum. Scream for me."

Despite being so tightly wound, you’re almost not sure if you can obey…until he groans and slams once more into you—and with a shriek, you are undone, clenching wildly around him and thighs trembling with an orgasm more intense than you expected. Murdock grunts in surprise, trying to continue fucking you through it. Your mind fractures with every attempted stroke, whimpering and babbling curses.

“Oh fuck—”

Murdock grunts once, twice, then he’s spilling inside you, cock pulsing harshly, the heat of him and his skin flush against yours driving you mad. He gasps and huffs and puffs, hand blinding finding you and rubbing again just enough to feel you clench around him harder. You keen loudly, practically a shriek in and of itself, legs threatening to give out as your body is kept on that intense plateau.

Eventually, the rush of cum slows, as does his throbbing inside you, and your own body is, mercifully, allowed to relax, still fluttering but not actively climaxing. The both of you pant heavily, catching your breaths as the two of you recover. His hands slide over your body, the strange dichotomy of skin and leather over and under your clothes. Murdock slips from you, and you’re too tired yet to be disappointed by it. He guides you in rolling you onto your back, and you don’t resist, grateful to give your legs a break from supporting you.

You blink almost blearily at where he ought to be, your eyes needing to adjust again to the lighting. You find your legs spread wide, almost folded in half, and his cockhead against your entrance once more. He doesn’t do anything at first, probably just taking you in. It’s a welcome, true reprieve. His bare hand brushes against your cheek, and you lean into it on instinct.

While maybe the break ought to last longer, Murdock is true to his word and impatient to have you. As he slides into you again with an unabashed moan that’s matched with your own, it strikes you as always that he’s already—still?—half hard again. If there’s one guarantee about Murdock among the other guarantees, it’s that he doesn’t stay soft for long.

Now, you can see him, face closer to yours. Even in the dimness, there's no mistaking that hunter's glint in his eyes. "Hello, sweetheart," he says, a wicked grin on his lips. "Miss me?"

He's devouring your mouth before you can respond, head spinning while he takes over your senses. His thrust scrambles what few thoughts you had left, eyes rolling into your head with a loud moan swallowed by him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and he groans into your mouth. Your mind tumbles again.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Murdock pants against your lips, watching your unfocused expression as he resumes pounding into you. All you can manage is a long whine. “How much more, hm? How much more can you take while I show you just how much I missed you?”

You don’t know. You can’t even think enough to be able to consider how much more.

But you’re certainly about to find out.

#lemon #x reader #Murdock x reader #minors dni #gender neutral reader #afab reader #gn reader #cw knife #a year in the making folks #happy halloween~~#murderplier x reader

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menaasstuff · 8 months

Text

The Misfortunate Incident

Chapter Two

While walking to the kitchen in search of some food after her shower, Emilia heard the familiar tune coming from her phone which notified her that Jessi was calling. Scooping up her phone, she grimaced when thinking about what this conversation would involve. She’d updated Jessi through text about how her presentation had gone and knowing her like she does, Emilia knew she’d have to give her a play by play before she’d even think about letting her stew in her own humiliation.

“He—”

“EMILIA!! Please tell me you were joking!” Jessi cut off. Pushing aside pleasantries between these two was common when there were more important matters to discuss.

“Well, I mean it really does sound worse than—”

“YOU PUKED ON PROFESSOR BARKLEY” her best friend nearly screeched before breaking off into a fit of giggles that made Emilia feel both mortified and amused.

“Jess—"

“Bhahaha—I’m sorry it’s not funny but— “Jessi snorted before another fit of laughter overtook her and interrupted her attempt to comfort her friend.

Pulling the phone away from her ear Emilia couldn’t help the slight smile that broke across her face, at the sound of her best friend’s uncontrollable laughter caused by her ridiculous misfortune. As she waited for her best friend to finally calm down and regain her barring’s, Emilia let out an amused sign before beginning to prepare her cup noodle dinner.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m telling you Em, it really isn’t that bad, everyone will forget about it by Tuesday, and it’ll be like it never happened. Besides, if you ask me that was probably the most iconic thing you could’ve done in that class. Everyone knows Barkley is the least interesting, longwinded professor in our university” Jessi snorted after the girls debriefed the events of Emilia’s disaster of a day.

“He looked at me like I’d just ran over his dog as I walked out of class, I probably traumatized the poor man—stop laughing it’s not funny I can hear you!” Emilia whined. She’d long since finished her dinner and settled onto her couch, the girls had switched to facetiming each other halfway through the call. This gave her the perfect view to all her friends gasps and giggles that occurs during the recounting of events that occur in her last lecture of the day.

“Are we going to watch this show or not jess, you’ve only been asking me to watch it for the last couple of weeks” Emilia snorted while searching up her friend’s latest obsession, a show called F4 Thailand, which Jessi hadn’t stopped nagging her to get into since it started airing. After talking they’d decided to watch it together on facetime since neither girl thought it was a good idea to go out considering the weather.

“Yes, gosh we got so sidetracked its literally already nearing 7pm”

“I know, somebody was having too much fun laughing at my pain, you’re. lucky I don’t have work tomorrow or we’d never get to watch—” Emilia’s spiel was cut off as a crack of thunder sounded through the room and echoed from the phone.

Since they’d been on the phone the storm clouds had rolled in and darkened the once tranquil blue sky, turning it a dark grey almost black while the sun set to light up another part of the world till tomorrow. Her mother had messaged to inform her, shed be spending the night at the hospital to avoid going out in the rain, and asked her to make sure all the windows and front door were locked. She also reminded her daughter where the flashlights were kept in case of a power outage and not to stay up too late just because it was the weekend.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After settling in and pulling up the show on their respective tv’s, the girls hit play and began to indulge in their favorite past time just like the hopeless romantics they were. The girls loved to throw in their own commentary and overzealous reactions to the scenes playing out before them, which led for the apartments to be filled with laughter and yelling that looked a bit like this.

“Ooh he’s cute, is he the main lead”

“Why was that literally the most dramatic way to bump into someone I’ve ever seen” “Em I’ve honestly seen you do worse, leave that girl alone”

“No because literally all he needed to do was take a wet wipe and clean his shoe, its rhinestone” “I thought the exact same thing when I first saw that scene but like he’s also supposed to be a spoiled brat so”

“Wow she literally walked away from her when the ONLY reason she’s even getting bullied is because of her, I’m going to swing” “My thing is like okay yea I get not wanting to get bullied but like no one was even around, SHE COULD’VE ATLEAST SAID HI”

“Why is MJ kinda...” “Right, they need to give my man more appreciation”

“AHH NOT HIM BUYING THE BUS SHE TAKES” “IF HE WNTED TO HE WOULD”

“No wait—” A crack or thunder accompanied the tv and lights in the apartment shutting off and plunging the two girls into darkness with a screech.

“Ugh you have got to be kidding me right now” “No we were literally only on episode four you haven’t even got to see the best parts yet”

Sighing while getting up from the couch, Emilia headed to the kitchen cabinet under the sink to retrieve the flashlight and shine some light in the otherwise pitch-black living room. Walking back into her living room she calls out to Jessi and lets her know they’ll have to continue tomorrow before they bid goodbye and hang up for the night.

After double checking all the windows and front door locks, she was about to head into her room when she saw what she thought was a spark coming from the outlet that the tv was plugged into. Standing completely still it only took a minute before she once again saw the flick of sparks coming from the outlet, and decided it was better to unplug the set for the night than risk the possibility of a fire starting while she slept.

Crouching down she reached out for the plug, when -- CRASH -- the sound of a frame being knocked to the floor caused her to jump back onto her bottom while looking over to the source of the sound and seeing her cat Salem sitting on the counter while cleaning his paws.

“Do only exist to give me heart attacks” she chided while shaking her head and resting her hand on her chest to calm down. She’d always hated thunderstorms and now without the distraction of the tv and the only light filling the room being that of the flashlight coupled with the occasional flash of lighting, her fear was being to creep up on her.

Taking a second to collect her thoughts she refocused on her goal of unplugging the tv and heading to bed to sleep off the remanent of the day. Reaching forward she grasped the plug and pulled before she saw a bigger spark ignite and an intense buzz run up her arm through her body before everything went black.

#bright vachirawit #f4 thailand boys over flowers #f4 thailand #f4 imagine #thailand #thai series #thai drama #thai actors #tumblr fyp #reader insert #x reader #long reads #tu tontawan #win metawin #dew jirawat #nani hirunkit #prim chanikarn

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feuqueerfire · 5 months

Text

The Warp Effect Live Blogging

I've been obsessed with the idea of this show since I watched the freaking mock trailer like sooo long years ago (late 2021? early 2022? like 2 years ago bruh) and was so glad that people seemed to really like the actual show when it released, can't believe I'm finally watching it. I attempted to watch this once before but it was while I was taking a break at university and uh this is not a show I can watch in public, so I had to stop just a few minutes in and now I'm back like a year later.

Anyway, I better love it. I'm gonna lose my shit if it turns out like Be My Favourite for me (I love the mock trailer -> people love the show -> I finally watch the show and find it... fine).

Ep 1 (Apr 20)

Why am I so nervous, I almost don't wanna start it. see this is why I have so many highly praised show or shows I'm hoping to love like ITSAY and 3WBF still on my To Watch list

1-1

ah, the promise/purity ring of doom

oh he's a high school KID pls

ah, I'm so excited seeing this intro with the whole cast, I'm anticipating a lot of their roles

Is the one who found the bra his grandpa?

Alex and Ice brothers

I like their uniforms

Jan, hiiii <3 <3 <3 (name: Nim)

his face appeared on the news of the massage parlour burning ?!

hehe Nim and Jan are already dating

I'm so excited seeing Gigie and Fah and everybody ahh, it's actually been so long

Also I wish I'd watched TWE before I learned about how Fah's husband is a POS because now I'm like ah... by extension she is also a POS because you're literally marrying that man

I've been like damn why am I so excited to see all these people? I see them act all the time except no I don't because apparently I haven't watched a GMMTV show since Be My Favourite last year (other than OffGun 20 minute Love From Outta Space but that only has them). I just see some of them online, esp like FourthGemini and Phuwin. No wonder I'm like hiii~ to everybody I see pop up.

not the sex situation roleplay in front of the class. good on consent tho

i'm gonna have to relearn everybody's names later fr

Army the homophobic homosexual (actually does he like girls too fr? idk)

hah, Mark's character getting schooled for asking who tops and bottoms

not Army getting so into it T.T closeted kid... and then punching Alex oh boy

is Alex not underage or is that not like a concern bruh like even the teacher is so casual about it

free period product spiel

1-2

New and Fah (Alex and Jean) are so cute man. I'm so nervous that he... sexually assaulted her? or something nonconsensual?? like I don't remember what the issue was but he did something bad I think? it makes me so nervous because they wouldn't fucking made the main character in our sex-positive show a fucking assaulter right?

uh what does the grandfather know?

is this camera magic

I'm hungry, time for lunch, hope nothing super raunchy or gross happens while I'm eating

ah kiss

aw slap (foreshadowing for the future IMO *wink*)

1-3

hah the dildo scene

Fah you are so hot and so cool (or so I thought) why are you with your husband T.T

idk why I'm so happy seeing Alex and Jean getting it on like it's fun and it's exciting

Fah is so hot goddamn

1-4

ohhh Alex accidentally kind of saw Army with some guy (Joke?). Are both the bullies gay and hooking up? well he didn't recognize shit cuz he's drunk off his ass but yknow

he's no longer a virgin

dang, miss girl went straight into a pelvic exam. usually people like "wake up" in a different time or go from one room to another or smth lol

I have watched a couple time travel things but they've usually been to the past/deaged to teenagehood whereas this one is to the future.

Very fun 1st ep, interesting and fun and intriguing and also heart-felt.

Kinda funny that in the GMMTV subreddit on-air, people have mentioned how American it feelts (apparently a lot of the inspo for it is American which makes sense) but I have no clue about that because I haven't much American/western TV lol

Ep 2 (Apr 20)

2-1

Delightful Army who is no longer homophobic

Is this the same hospital as Vice Versa?

pls gooner See-ew

ahh, I was wondering if Ew would indeed no longer be Alex's friend

ahhh his relationship with family is now extremely distant too, I'm so curious about what happened

girl you're like 30 now, it makes sense that your grandfather might have passed away. but i do get that it's sudden and he must be like wtf i just saw him yesterday

oh also they're like Christian. the promise ring thing is in a church and there are crosses and stuff in their house too

I think I remember something about him having to fix his relationships or people he wronged or something and I guess these photos give a hint as to what?

2-2

0:49 Ew (aka Sing who also plays Todd in Not Me) says "Are you challenging me?" but him saying it in Thai reminds me of him saying the same thing/a similar thing to Black as Todd when Black came to kill him

ohh these photos are from the future?

broken promise leading to this mess

heh, Alex really went wild that night at the party ig

Ah, indeed Alex kissed Molly (we saw this in 1-3 I think)

Alex, Kat fuck buddies

2-3

Gigie is so hot

pls the way I burst out laughing at him leaving the bathroom nearly naked

the change from shy/nervous -> eager and excited

also Kat's so funny cuz she gets angry and then is like ^.^ :D like the cat smiling emoji

pls the curse not letting him have sex even in the future

Joong hi, can't wait to see him be tied up in a chair (and whipped?)

"Thank you, master" ahhhh i'm so excited for Liu and Ew and puppyplay

i'm actually not a super big of the dog mask but it's all so cute omg >.< Master feeding her dog strawberries aww and then giving a little flog for being a bad doggie but being nice to him again awww so cuteeeee he's such a cute dog

2-4

Army is so fun

so he did indeed get with Jean in between making out with other people

yay Jean director, her dream

and she's mad at him because he did smth but whattt

Ep 3 (Apr 21)

3-1

pls the way he has no doctor gyno knowledge T.T he's 17

I saw people guessing that Alex and Jean had sex that night -> Jean got pregnant -> Alex left/wanted nothing to do with that/she got an abortion and he gave no support/etc. which I think I would like more than my fears that he did something untoward

Jean and Kat convo ahh pretties and cuties i hope you are friends and don't hate each other later on

3-2

ik Ew is excited but I also want Liu to be more excited and eager and partaking in the sex toy shopping and kink play

aw she's embarrassed esp in public

okay exactly liu being like "i like it but not all the time. do you ever ask me what i actually like?"

ah her running into Jedi and Rose right in front of the store

does Alex even know how to drive

all i can think is Army's hands were probably on his dick or the other guy's dick and he's touching Alex all casually without washing hands

there's no photo of Ice but i guess he'd need to patch things up with his brother anyway

I think this is the first time I'm seeing Phuwin in a romantic role with somebody other than Pond?

Jan with a girl let's fucking go

tragic that this isn't gonna last bc Nim and this girl are cute together

3-3

I guess the best thing would've been to set up guidelines earlier in the relationship, like puppy play/BDSM is just One aspect of our relationship, not the whole thing. because it's been clear since ep 2 that Ew is more eager to play that way every time they see each other whereas Liu likes it to a lesser degree and also wants to hang out and be romantic outside of that play and also wants to be pampered sometimes rather than always domming him/taking care of him

agh it irritated me that Ew just turned on porn and got off but ig he uses it as a crutch maybe... i'm hoping it's that instead of a lack of care and affection toward Liu smh

I love Gigie's smile her sharp little incisors are extremely attractive

I'm glad Alex cut it off with Kat esp because in last ep it was mentioned that he's kind of being dishonest with her since he's not... exactly who he says he is

3-4

Oh, that's Ice's girlfriend Kim? Jean and her work together?

I loveee Jean's colour-block jacket

a little lesson on doing a pelvic exam for someone with a vagina

ah Alex and Jean in the same room again i'm so excited but nervous

I'm nervous For Jean bruv

you didn't do the cotton thing before inserting the speculum Alex

ah, they fr had sex that night

Ep 4 (Apr 21)

4-1

Army is so funny and endearing. i'd be curious to know his reaction when Alex finally tells him about the time travel

Are we getting Thor's character finally or not yet? anonymous face

oof Bew and Nim's future plans look pretty different

and the pregnant Nim photo is manifesting

bruh obviously Ew dresses up and plays a little dog lmfao

damn they're actually talking about puppy play

girl that's not Thor, that's a baby! I just remembered that I think I knew about this? about Fluke's character accidentally meeting up with an underage guy

pls 2005 liner (in 2022)

i am aware that playing football is an euphemism. is it for masturbation? just being horny?

I found out about Fluke Pusit's new BL which is apparently the fucking Your Dear Daddy that had me icked out from the title agh but like... I like him in this and wanna see him in a BL as a main lead so I might still check it out since the synopsis doesn't seem too bad. It'll still be many months perhaps over a year or two until it comes out though... not even a pilot trailer yet. will they get the budget and talent necessary for the show? Who knows...

4-2

Ah, Joe and Army also had a falling out and aren’t in contact, rip

I think it's Army's baby based on that one tiktok where Army and Nim are talking about the kid having gay and lesbian parents

non-binary Molly!!!!

i can’t quite tell how we’re supposed to feel about Joong’s character Tony tbh

ohh that’s how the Joong tied up in a chair by Sylvie scene comes to be, it’s part of their movie acting.

i watched the first few minutes of this on the train lol

Damn, what's up with Jean :< is it really just bad cramps or something serious?

4-3

pls Ice's friends are losers (or maybe just that specific dude)

oh the moaning while Ice and Kim are having sex threw me off

did Kim even have fun? USELESS

okay she's saying she had fun, though I wish she seemed more into it while they were actually doing the act. Orgasms aren't always necessary but it should still be fun

Kim is so fucking hot bruh

"Let's do it raw" well i'm so glad it was Phuwin playing Ice and not me bc I would've embarrassed myself on that set

ah, Army can still think fondly of his time hooking up with Joe and get off to it lol

Anyway, at least it seemed like Kim was gonna have more fun in round 2 but i want that for her every time they have sex

4-4

Kat and Jean on one screen is always so heart eyes

Army, what are you apologizing forrrr

pouty Army is so cute bruh

pls the argument while Army's jacking Joe off

the handjob that leads to forgiveness

well I'm glad they didn't get caught cuz I was nervous lol

The people I find incredibly attractive in this show are: Jean, Kat, Kim, and Army lmfao

Ep 5 (Apr 21/22)

5-1

Army reminiscing about the high school days when he and Joe hooked up lol

ah, Army has the photo he took of Alex and it shows Alex in the future in a doctor coat

hilarious that Alex is just a good, knowledgable gyno now lmfao

finally Army learns about the time travel

oof, Alex running into Kat and Jean at the club

the way he leaned over Jean freaked me out fr

correct that you can revoke consent at any time etc but maybe also say that if you're gonna bring a random person home from the bar, be clear about expectations before leaving the bar/coming home

5-2

he can't even get off when he masturbates?

Ew's animosity toward Army lol

Mollie lead role!

idkkkk Nim doesn't seem to be want to be pregnant and doesn't seem to like kids, I don't want her to have a baby when she doesn't want one

ouch, Mollie-Nim-Bew meet

the pilot guy is sleazy, Kat run away

5-3

wait we're not doing any more puppy play? :( did Liu really not like it at all?

Aghh we're only doing extremes of puppy play every time y'all meet vs no puppy play ever... what about a happy middle?

Ouchhh the public humiliation and body shaming, this is the hardest storyline in the show to watch for me so far

5-4

yay mollie

ohhh the photo of mollie changed cuz they overcame their problem ig? w alex's help once the photo happened

Kinda surreal to watch Molly be played by Sylvie who is attractive and, despite not being stick thin, also not fat

I barely watched anything on the 22nd and yesterday the 23rd was all about GMMTV 2024 Part 2, so I'm Finally starting the next ep today

Ep 6 (Apr 24)

6-1

Okay I got too nervous waiting to watch what Alex did so I read in the comments that he didn't use a condom because he was so drunk. It's terrible but I feel better knowing what it was that he did before seeing it

eughhh they're so drunk

oh ew that's... horrifying. to have her actually say wait and stop multiple times while he... doesn't

that's actually fucked fr

the look of horror and realizing on Jean's face and then the tear...

why is Alex fucking smiling?! how dare he

aw shucks everybody gonna know and the rumours are getting bigger

not Alex just going with Jedi while leaving Ew behind

Incredible that this guy who traumatized Jean is now just at the top of the school pyramid I actually can't believe my worst fears were real and Alex ignored Jean's multiple attempts to push him off while she says stop

6-2

the Jean and Molly convo is interesting. I understand Jean more because you can't just go around kissing people while in a monogamous relationship just to check if you're into it or not but I understand that Molly's also unsure of what they actually like, especially because it seems like they were probably grappling with being nonbinary back then and haven't yet chosen that term for themselves yet

I think breaking up is the right thing to do in this situation

Kat dropping big hints that she knows Army likes boys lol at least she's breaking up with him easy

Army has armpit hair which is normal but rare in EA/SEA shows it feels like? idols are clean shaven/lasered

Army's so annoying lol conceited but a cutie so I can't even disagree

conflicted because hah gay locker room handy is fun but also... part 1 sex was horrific

oh naur they're gonna get caught?

noooooo Army throws Joe under the bus?!

6-3

nosy ass grandpa

Ice is 13? lmfao. so he's 23 in the future ig

we should kill Alex first not stopping when Jean told him to and now abondoning Ew at Army's suggestion

heh Ew liked the slap

oh In Love by Gamma Skies, I think this was in a Bad Buddy playlist but I couldn't remember it being used in the actual show

Kat and Jean smoking in the balcony aghh I want at least 1 kiss between them plsplspls (but not right now when Jean is just newly traumatized :()

agh Jean labeled as a slut for sleeping with Alex (and dancing on the table in her bra) while Alex becomes the top dog for presumed to sleep with 3 girls (+ kiss Army lol)

6-4

I read the comments first because I know apparently Jean's photos in her bra from that party are gonna be plastered on the wall and aghh... Alex is gonna be useless and treated well while Jean is gonna be called an attention seaker and also suspended ?! and people in the comments were saying people shouldn't say that Alex did nothing wrong, how the fuck are there comments saying he didn't do anything wrong omg??!!

punishment for WHAT?!

Jean isn't quite yelling at Alex for the things she wants to yell at him about so I guess that's why the comments that apparently defended him may have thought she was treating him unfairly but it's like... it's hard to say you might not fucking remember but you didn't use a condom and didn't fucking listen to me while i told you to stop repeatedly you jackass and now they're all ruining my life

this fucking Alex/Jean montage i'm so mad T.T

and Army needs a fucking punch too

Alex is soooo aghhhh why is he literally going to Jean's house (!!!) and saying sorry but also repeatedly being like "Can you forgive me?" like girl wtf how can you expect forgiveness this easily by saying it was your fault a decade later smhh

ahhh horrible. good episode in the sense that it's well-crafted and makes sense but truly what the fuck

I get that Alex was drunk and so ignored Jean while we assume he wouldn't have done that if he wasn't drunk but truly... what the fuck? Being drunk doesn't mean you get a free get out of jail card to violate consent. The show nor the audience seem to use the word rape but that's what it was, right? I don't want them to get back together in the end man...

And also the Army-Joe thing... idk, throwing Joe under the bus...

Also I think I won't look at warp effect tumblr posts anymore... idk, I kinda don't care to read about people's thoughts on it because it's already tiring to watch the show, much less read people's thoughts on it. Might seek out specific gifsets if I really want one though.

Ep 7 (Apr 25)

7-1

lol everybody having fun while Alex can't orgasm

Liu's boss... ew

Rose and Jedi are cute heh

plss not Jedi being one of the men who wants their gf/wife to go open relationship but then is jealous she's is getting more partners and having fun and such

I'm glad we get kissing and sex with with Jedi and Rose because I swear so many times when trans actresses are cast, they either get no romance or very chaste romance with hugs at most

aw shucks, I'm guessing Jedi's dick hurting is gonna lead to the hospital visit in Alex's photo

7-2

oh also, ig I didn't think about the fact that Nim would have to marry whoever she has a kid with?

heh quick decision to have a freaking child

I'm also not sure Nim having a child is even the right decision

New looks soo attractive in the bar scene

I love Alex trying to mend the relationship with Ice

ewwww not Captain asking Kat to be his gf in public with flowers and such. It puts pressure on the one being asked, I hateeee it when people ask such questions in public and then the asker might get angry at being humiliated. I'm glad Kat stood her ground but I'm afraid he's gonna retaliate, esp since he's a pilot where she is a flight attendant

7-3

It makes me so nervous fr when they do anything in public

oh crazy, we're having the not orgasming talk but for a gay couple this time

a little PSA about positions

omg Joe is a side? doesn't like penetration possibly? because he liked the handjobs

Joong's character and Jean are cute man, idk I hope he's not sleazy

ah, Molly and Nim scenes once again

aw man Ew is going to meet the bunny domme

it's cute how excited he is but helloo you're meeting a woman behind our gf's back + camera?!

oh no he's wearing the outfit he gets arrested in

ah cops

you can get arrested for creating porn in thailand?

7-4

Ew begging Liu to stay is still more about himself and how she's the only one who understands him and gave him a chance rather than about her. But the story gets that I think because Liu says that in their relationship she has tried to be what's needed for Ew but Ew hasn't done the same.

ah shit not the captain beating up Kat, that fucker

Ep 8 (Apr 25)

8-1

poor Kat

aww Jean and Kat <3

girl, imagine if you had indeed accepted him, he's a fucking asshole, you'd be in a mess either way

yesss you two should date

I don't even know how to feel at Jean and Alex conversations, like it's not cool or chill dude, just shut upp

In the ep 7 r/gmmtv on-air, somebody mentioned that maybe... Army sleeps with another guy/cheats on Joe (esp if they're not on the same page sexually) and that's why it's a polaroid with the other guy's identity hidden? made me sooo nervous, I don't want that to be true plsss I just thought it'd be because Joe is closeted and so we can't see his face

plsss not Army's rant to Alex about Joe not bottoming

ah, Kim is pregnant and I'm guessing Nim is/will be too. I hope one of them gets an abortion for the storyline here

bruh, Bew was flighty from the jump but also Nim really shouldn't have gotten IVF done so quickly and easily with little though

bruh fuck Bew

8-2

plsss Alex going to Joe to talk about his and Army's sex life is sending me fr

side Joe! and they're fr talking about it!

Ah, Mollie and Nim :(

I really hope Kim ends up having an abortion. She and Ice can make another baby in the future when they're older and more stable and ready

Aw, Ice is sweet but I still don't think they should have a baby when neither is ready

Alex randomly there to help Kat lol

damn, Captain got put in jail, that's good

8-3

I hope Tony's just a nice, regular guy

pls Army being like yep my partner is soo satisfied with my performance to his patient

lol multi-activity full package outercourse

uh... is Kat developing feelings for Alex/I thought she had feelings for a while tbh

oh, Alex talking about Jean in his sleep rip

I hope Jean and Kat don't become enemies, that's my only wish

8-4

I love Joe and Army so bad wtf

Kat and Army's photos now fixed

Ep 9 (Apr 26)

9-1

okay Jedi mentioned always using protection

oof, not them fighting over the HPV

Rose is trans and didn't have bottom surgery so how tf did they have sex so easily in the kitchen that one time lmfao

pls not Ice singing about their child in this club setting

Kim shouldn't be drinking but Ice shouldn't be picking fights with strangers like that and escalating situations either

okay finally abortion mention

Ice let go of your fucking pride for like one second

9-2

hehe Sylvie and Joong scenes

not both Mollie and Jean falling for Tony's charms

okay Alex giving Ice good advice about supporting Kim's decision for an abortion. I wish somebody would also mention that they can just... have a child a couple years down the line

i wonder where we're going with the HPV storyline?

9-3

stop meeting at Joe's workplace I beg

STOP YELLING !!!

why is that man taking a video aghhhh Armyyyy i'm gonna kill you and also that man

ah, Nim and Molliee

ohh Nim's photo went back

not the flight attendant roleplay plss

I'm dying at Rose and Jedi's relationship where they're in an open relationship and flirt with people but never sleep with any of them even though the other one thinks they do lmfao

okay glad Kat didn't just get over Captain's assault and that it still affects her. but she's not portrayed as week for still being affected because it's literally such a big thing

Jedi and Rose are sooooo cute what the hell

not the scent callback

Jedi/Rose cutiesss

9-4

omg Kat and Tony?

Tony is suchhh a flirt that it's fun to see him be taken back by Kat's extremely forward pursuit

so is Tony... supposed to be just a nice, normal guy fr? I hope he is

Rose and Jedi are actually so cute like I'm dead

okay so it's stronger and stronger hinting that Jean was indeed pregnant after that party

oh no, Liu and her fuckass boss creep next ep

I liked how cute Jedi and Rose were but I feel like why introduce the open relationship aspect at all then? Like if they needed to have it, they could've treated it with more nuance and have them actually participate in the open part of their relationship. idk i was like, the lesson isn't that "people in love can't do open relationships" right?

Ep 10 (Apr 26)

10-1

director and main actor dating? and also Tony asking her in public like this too? Captain flashbacks smh

girl, dancing?! omg why is this too much for me, too much public stuff

let's kill Liu's boss

aghhh, they found out about Joe being gay

10-2

Alex barging in and confronting the boss like that in front of everybody. I hate these men's need to publicly "defend" women and confront/fight men without actually asking the women they're defending what they want because this has consequences

had to work really hard to get into the comedy mindset for this sexual harassment storyline because usually... the serious topics are treated serious idk

pussy eating, let's go

oof, Mollie and Nim fight once again

I get Joe so much and it frustrated me that Army doesn't quite understand how much trauma Joe has because of his actions (similar to his bff Alex in that way who just jokes around with Jean as if he didn't fucking rape her)

and what about the puppy play? we doing that still? cuz idk if Ew can do with it?

Ah, Jean and Kat convo about Alex. I'm glad it wasn't messy

10-3

oof, no Kim, you did the right thing

there is no need to feel bad for Ice because he can have a baby couple years down the line if he still wants it after he's more settled

okay he finally mentioned that they can have a kid when they're ready

erotic foot massage, loll yas (+ a little servant roleplay?)

i'm so glad they're communicating, never been so happy to see erotic foot massage and puppy play

omg Jedi proposing (and this time the public proposal feels okay like it doesn't feel like pressuring Rose)

Jedi and Rose are sooo cute. maybe the fact that they have the least screentime & so the least conflict helps with that

10-4

I'm nervous

ooh, a Tony and Jean kiss

this is so fucked uppp, my poor Jean T.T

glad Tony turned out to be actually decent

Once again, I'm hoping Alex/Jean isn't endgame

polaroid photo of Alex's mother and Teacher Saran?

Watched most of this at 1.25x speed tbh

Ep 11 (Apr 26)

I'm really enjoying the show but I must be honest... I'm also kind of dreading it and just want to be done... The Alex & Jean is honestly A Lot for me and idk if they can handle it well and I'm not looking forward to Joe-Army and Mollie-Nim's conflicts either. I kinda wanna just knock out the last 2 episodes by tonight though because I just wanna be doneee

It'll be 1.25x speed for the rest of the show I think. I managed to watch the first 9 episodes at regular speed though

11-1

Ah, Alex's bio dad is actually their gym/sex-ed teacher

damn, we're going so fast with this storyline

dang, more than his mother, his father was the reason for the time travel with the camera gift

Tony and Kat could be cute

pls not the "what if I get dragged by your fans" mentioned

I get that Nim shouldn't have been so callous with Mollie by saying they can be friends but Nim literally had 1) Mollie kiss another boy while they dated and 2) had Bew walk out her while pregnant. I feel like her not opening up or easily trusting Mollie to be a good partner and parent makes sense

Mollie could've just said the stuff nicely as a confession instead of a fight

11-2

let's go Joe (incredibly easy fix for something serious though lol)

I don't get the point of the kicking crossbar thing but sure, ig Joe and Army have made up

girl okay wtf is this promposal from Alex to Jean, idkkkk I'm just not into it

glad Jean didn't say yes

11-3

aw, Jedi/Rose wedding

Army-Joe dance too, Joe overcoming his shyness

no way Ew is proposing right here smh

Tony and Kat are cute too, even if it's all going fast cuz the show's ending ig

I want Jean to be able to speak to somebody openly and honestly about being raped by Alex (like that's literally what it was), whether it be a therapist, a close friend, fucking confronting Alex, idc but it feels like Alex doesn't even give it the weight it deserves, idk

Alex requesting for Jean to get back with him like literally why bro just let the girl be, I beg

11-4

literally, like just let her live her life instead of fucking inserting yourself so boldly, and often so jokingly. i get that you wanna fucking climax and also go back to the future but it's so frustrating to have him want to get back with her romantically out of selfish desire instead of at least helping her altruistically

This is so devastating, I don't fucking want them together fr

omg, her telling him to go back to the past

I guess he's gonna go back in time and do things differently. I'm just glad that in this scenario with how things have played out, in this timeline how original Alex lived, Jean can't forgive him or get together with him. So I'm partially getting what I wanted.

Also interesting parallel with Alex's father who Alex is now refusing to give a second chance, to come into his life, because he fucked up big time as well and there's just no coming back from that to suddenly be a good dad or being involved with Alex's life.

Also, people in the YT comments or on reddit who are acting like "ohhh Alex didn't know, he can't be held accountable for that night/for not knowing about the pregnancy, Jean should've told him yada yada", fuck you like actually. She was a young woman who was raped by somebody she deeply trusted (idc that he was young and drunk and it was "unintentional" - doesn't undo what he did), then ostracized by the school while he was put on a padastal (and left his other friends to follow his popularity), then suspended, then found out she was pregnant at a time when abortion was illegal. It makes plenty of fucking sense to me that she didn't go and tell Alex what happened. It's not even like she was doing anything to Alex in the current timeline, he's the one who keeps inserting himself into her life and pursing her romantically despite her saying no multiple times (parallels?).

Ep 12 (Apr 26)

I don't really feel like watching this ep but I will because I just wanna be done bruh

1.5x speed idc

12-1

please Alex going around and being elated toward Grandpa and Ice who are like ?? lol

omg this is so funny as he gives everybody the advice they need 10 years in the future

12-2

bro there is noooo way they're gonna give Jean's iconic dildo defense rant to fucking Alex

bro you just went on a time travelling mission that taught you about your mistakes when you were drunk this night at this party, c'mon don't drink bruh

12-3

not the Liu-Ew and Jedi-Rose making out competition

Joe-Army have had more sex in public places than in private in every timeline

12-4

pls not the time jump again when he orgasms

Honestly, a pretty fun end and kind of makes me less upset at the other stuff. Like I'm still intellectually upset at it when I think about it, but I'm on a high from the fun stuff, so it doesn't feel as terrible as when I finished ep 11.

Overall:

A unique and enjoyable show, it was so fun to see all these characters in their specific situations and how they deal with them. The characters were all compelling, it's wild how I was into all their storylines. how charming each character/their story was, and how the story juggled them. It also made me see a bunch of actors in new lights, New most of all, as they acted in a role outside of their usual wheelhouse.

I think the most frustrating part for me was how it seemed like although they were getting at it, they never quite acknowledged that what Alex did to Jean that night was rape. It made me quite angry actually, especially how Alex's actions didn't feel like it actually took Jean's feelings and trauma and requests into account. I was at least glad that in that timeline, Jean doesn't get back with Alex.

Rating: 7/10

#the warp effect #ep by ep commentary

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reidsaurora · 1 year

Text

Part Twelve: "Years Of Hoping" ~ S. Reid

Summary: After years of hoping, Spencer might finally receive his chance to reunite with Imogen.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Imogen Sterren (bipolar!OC)

Word Count: 1,714

Content Warning: DARK THEMES (this fic discusses Spencer having been m0lested as a child, PLEASE continue at your own risk), explicit language, mentions of medications, mentions of mental health facilities, mentions of food, minor character death but not really, tiny mention of alcohol, let me know if i missed anything!

Genre: Angst, really just a ton of angst

Extra Notes: nothing i can think of at the moment!!

Based On the Song: Soon You'll Get Better by Taylor Swift

Originally Written: 01/08/2023 through 01/21/2023 (re-edited on 05/14/2023)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

"Soon You'll Get Better" series masterlist can be found here!

"𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥. 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠." - 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐞𝐥𝐡𝐨

Spencer paced anxiously around the meeting room of the Atlantic City Police Department's precinct. His chest heaved, his heart thumping with so much rage that he wasn't quite sure he wouldn't punch Arthur Malcolm in the face when he arrived at New Lives Mental Health Facility.

He stayed silent as Hotch directed each team member with new instructions to find this unsub, now known as Samantha Malcolm.

Finally, after the raven-haired man had finished his instructions, Spencer spoke up for what felt like the first time in the whole afternoon. "I wanna go to New Lives. Whether or not she's there, I wanna talk to the father. There are literally hundreds of therapies to help kids through loss. Electroshock is not one of them."

Though no one could see it, Penelope's brows knitted together with worry on the other end of the phone. "Hey, Reid. Before you go, there's something I need to talk to you about. Well, actually there's something I need to show you through Derek's laptop, if he doesn't mind sharing of course."

Derek smirked. "You know how good I am at minding my manners, mama."

"Garcia, can it wait? I mean, we're kind of on a time crunch here," Spencer said, nearly in a grumble.

She swallowed hard and nervously. "I think you're gonna want to see this now." Spencer knew by her tone of voice that she was on the brink of tears.

Spencer snatched the computer up and rushed to take his phone off speakerphone mode as he strutted out of the room. He nearly slammed the door behind him as he finally found an empty room. "What is the matter, Penelope?"

Her heart panged as she considered the information she was about to give him. "OK, first of all, I know you're upset over this case. I know that it brings up past feelings about your father and the things that happened to you as a kid. So, please, if you need to sit the rest of this case out, just tell me and I will let Hotch know."

By the time she'd finished her spiel, they both felt silent cries leaving their bodies. He lifted a thumb to his cheek, forcefully wiping away a tear that managed to escape. "I'm fine, Penelope," he said, his words possessing as much bite as a fresh lemon. "It's just been… it's been a long day, OK?"

"Spencer, you're not fine. This man-"

"Is horrible and vile, just like my own father," he provided. "He's not the first pedophile we've dealt with and he won't be the last. I'm going to be fine. Really."

She nodded as if he could see her. She spoke again, forcing herself to swallow the hockey puck sized lump in her throat. "I also know it's the three-year anniversary of you meeting Imogen and I know that's part of the reason why you're upset today."

Imogen: a name he hadn't heard but a handful of times in the past three years since they'd spoken last.

"Penelope, what does that have to do with-"

She stopped him. "That's why I need you to look at the computer."

Spencer placed the computer on the table, watching as Penelope clicked through her slides, even from almost two hundred miles away. No matter how much time passed and no matter how much technology continued to progress, Spencer would never be convinced that the blonde on the other side of the screen was anything short of a wizard.

Finally, after clicking through a couple different slides, she spoke again. "OK, what's on the next one might be a little triggering so I'm going to need you to sit down."

"Penelope, I'm not-"

"Spence, please," she said, her voice as soft as a baby lamb. "Please just sit down. For me."

Reluctantly, he sat in the lone desk chair, grasping the armrests hard as it nearly slid it out from underneath him. However, what was on the next slide was enough to make Spencer fall out of the chair, no matter how hard he gripped the armrests.

"Are you alright?" Penelope panicked, having heard Spencer's tussle with the office chair.

"Yeah, I'm…" His tongue went nearly numb as he pulled himself up from the floor. "Imogen is at New Lives?"

Penelope stayed quiet for a moment. She knew no matter how she said her next sentence, she'd be in deep shit with Spencer. So, she went with the band-aid method, ripping it off as quickly as possible. "Spencer, there's… well, do you remember when I told you I knew about Imogen from a tech analyst's perspective?"

His teeth gritted together so hard, Penelope wasn't so sure she wouldn't hear them come out his nose. "Garcia, what did you do?"

"Nothing! I just maybe withheld important information that you probably want to know. But the only reason I didn't say anything was because I thought Imogen should be the one to tell you."

Spencer stayed quiet as Penelope switched to the next page. His tongue went numb once again, his mind in an almost matching state. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. The only one of his senses that hadn't left was seeing, which he wasn't sure was a good thing when Imogen's file popped open on the computer screen.

"August…" he managed to get out, his airway feeling as tight as the time he'd had an allergic reaction to shrimp. "August is her son?"

"Her sister Astrid's had custody of him since his fourth birthday, right before Imogen was admitted to Bennington."

"Who's the…" He couldn't even get the words out.

Penelope took a deep breath. "His name was Drew. He left as soon as August was born. Apparently he was seeing another girl behind Imogen's back during her pregnancy."

Spencer could feel his peanut butter and jelly sandwich from lunch rising in his stomach. His cheeks were on fire with something close to boiling rage. "If I ever get my hands on him-"

"Not unless you wanna go six feet under for him," she stopped him. "As it turns out, karma's a bitch. He and the girl got super drunk one night and crashed. Almost killed a little girl the same age as August."

It was all so much for Spencer at one time. The new information. The old feelings. His hand started to flail, something it hadn't done in years, not since he'd vowed off stimming. "You look ridiculous, and it's not helping anymore anyway," he'd told himself. The same day he'd decided to stop concerning himself with Imogen. The same day he'd had his last bad panic attack—one that made him pass out on the way to Penelope's office.

He crawled out of his thoughts, swallowing hard in hopes of eliminating the tears coming up in his throat. "Pen, why did you tell me all of this?"

"You know how the unsub, Samantha, lives at one of her father's halfway houses?"

Spencer nodded as if the blonde could see him. When she didn't say anything, he managed to mumble, "Uh-huh."

"Imogen's living in one of his houses too. The one next door to Samantha's."

The room stayed silent, save for Spencer's heavy breathing and Penelope's on the other end of the phone. His face felt numb yet heavy, like if he didn't know what was happening, he would assume he was having a stroke.

He continued reading through her file silently. He read that her birthday was January the twenty-second, just a mere week after he'd received her last letter. He read that she was born 1982, just a mere three months after he was born. He read that she gave birth to August in 2002. Finally, he read her latest progress report from her new doctor.

After six months on her newest medication, Pristiq (Desvenlafaxine), Imogen is showing many improvements. Her depressive episodes show much milder symptoms than those she experienced when she first transferred to New Lives in 2007. I am going to consult my colleagues and ask their opinions first, but I am thinking of allowing her visiting time with her son.

Spencer's eyes darted down to the clock on the bottom-right corner of the screen, and realized he'd been reading for about three minutes. Three minutes filled with silence thick enough to cut with a knife.

He swallowed the last of his tears and spoke again. "I have to go, Pen. The case…"

She sniffled, clearly having cried during the moment of silence. "Yeah," she mumbled, sniffling once more, "Of course. Be careful out there."

Spencer hated confrontation, but he knew there was something obviously upsetting Penelope, so instead of hanging up and ignoring it for his own sake, he asked, "Is everything alright, Penny?" for his best friend's sake.

"Well, you know how I read all those romance novels. What if this is your second chance romance?"

He pondered her question for a beat, but stayed silent. To be fair, he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to respond anyway.

"I've read through her file, Spencer. She's slowly getting better but what if you're that one last boost she needs? I mean, her doctor even said in his notes that he might let August come stay with her soon to see how she does. What if you're what she needs to help her through that?"

His hands shook like his life depended on it. On one hand, maybe she was right. Maybe he could help her through it. Maybe this was the chance he'd prayed for all those years ago, when he'd decided to let her go in hopes of getting her back one day.

But on the other hand, maybe she wouldn't want him. Maybe the sight of him at her doorstep would set her off all over again. After all, the last thing he'd ever heard when visiting Bennington was "You started this. She didn't act this way until she met you."

Maybe it was times like these when desperate people found faith. He knew he'd never get what Imogen went through, but he knew there wasn't a day that went by where he hadn't tried to understand. Not once in the entire three years he'd been hoping for their reunion.

Maybe with Spencer's help, Imogen could get better soon.

"𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥." - 𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧

So... this was supposed to be posted three months ago...

I know, I know. There's no way I can make that up to you guys. I wish I had a better explanation, but the honest truth is that I had no one to beta read these last few chapters and in my head, they weren't good enough for you guys without it. So, here I am, pushing myself out of my comfort zone and giving you the real, raw, unpolished product.

And hey, what better way to end this? Three chapters, posted at 3:33 pm on a Sunday. 💖

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @wwwonzeee @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @rexorangecouny @lcvingprentjss

☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

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