#could you be evil a little more slowly at the very least

[goodafternoonhumans]

HEY WAIT TUMBLR JUST ASKED ME FOR COOKIES??? NO STOP THAT

[finniestoncrane]

Ain't So Bad

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.1k i want this man to do horrible things to me, i want him to tell me he'll make sure i'm ok when i know full well he's the most dangerous thing around, he's driving me INSANE anyway i'll have a softer thing for him soon!! 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: dubcon/noncon, restraints, use of 'no' but reader is quick to do as told, restraints, slight threat, gun mention, hair pulling

The sun had thankfully almost set, the long shadows cast by it a welcome relief, though it did mean that night was coming, along with the threats that were its constant companion. But you always assumed you were safe, travelling with your own companion. Especially when that companion was Cooper Howard. Charming, despite his foul attitude that put most people off. Handsome, at least to you, and much to the disappointment of the more ‘reserved’ folks you came across out in the wasteland. And you felt lucky, most of the time, to consider him yours. But you suspected that, while he kept the danger away, that there was a reason for that.

Even predators had something they were afraid of. There was always a greater evil.

And as the darkness fell, his silhouette lit only by the small fire in the corner of the roofless room, you began to realise that Cooper was a lot more dangerous than you had let yourself come to terms with.

“Cooper, wait… we’re not safe enough, I don’t…”

You trailed off, aware that your words were falling on deaf ears as Cooper dragged his dry lips across your cheek, grazing his teeth against the skin as you felt him pushing you backwards, your spine straightening against the crumbling wall behind you.

“It ain’t so bad out here… certainly won’t be when you see what I’ve got in store for you.”

“Please, Cooper… no, Coop, I can’t-”

Interrupted by your own sharp inhale, you held the breath as you watched Cooper’s eyes settled on yours, your hands above you head against the wall, his hands tight around your wrists, preventing you from holding him back any further.

“I’m here to keep you safe, darlin’. You’ll be fine.”

His words meant very little against what you knew was lurking out there, and your nerves pushed your protests out of your clamping throat.

“But Cooper, you know I get scared… I don’t want to do this, not here.”

“Well too bad, missy…”

He lifted your hands and slammed them back down again, watching as you winced at the dull pain.

“… it ain’t like there’s a nice place I can take a girl like you for something like this…”

Cooper’s grip loosened, one of his hands leaving yours as he fumbled with the belt on his pants. You could have easily pulled away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t be sure why, and you chose not to linger on that thought, luckily distracted from it as Cooper’s unbuckled belt clanged, his eyes back towards you.

“…Now, are you going to be a good girl and take it?”

The free hand now drifted to his hip, pushing back his long coat, his palm lazily resting on the holstered gun by his side before he continued speaking. Slowly, clearly, in a low, guttural tone.

“Or am I gonna have to be a bad man and take. It.”

His stare penetrated you, like he could see through your skull to the wall you were trapped against. Your chest seemed to stay completely still despite the deep breaths you took. When you tried to speak, your tongue stayed flat, your lips trembling, nothing but a squeak of air managing to pass between you.

“I asked you a question.”

All you offered was a stuttered mumble and a sheepish nod of your head, a smile offered to you by Cooper as he kicked your legs apart with his muddy boot. Two gloved fingers teased at the front of your pants, pulling them away from skin before sinking below the waistband and brushing against your thickened lips. Excitement, adrenaline, fear. All of it passed over you in a heartbeat, your heart fluttering as he removed his hands from you. Bringing the fingers to his lips, he bit down on the leather with his yellowed teeth, tearing off the glove and tossing it to the ground. His fingers were back down quickly, spreading apart your folds. His uncovered fingers delved inside of you, only briefly, before he withdrew that small modicum of pleasure from the otherwise intense and nerve-wracking situation.

As he separated himself from you, your back arched involuntarily away from the wall, your body betraying your protests as you ached for more of his touch.

“My, my… you sure were fussing a lot for someone who is clearly enjoying themselves…”

Bringing his two fingers up, he spread them apart, watching carefully as your slick stretched in long strands between them.

“Bend over.”

“Cooper, wait, please, I-”

Gripping your waist, Cooper knocked you off balance and let you fall to the floor, a cloud of dust rising up around you.

“I done enough waitin’, darlin’.”

As you struggled to get onto all fours, you felt yourself knocked once more, cheek slamming to the ground as your arms were pulled up behind your back. You could feel the rope tightening around your skin, your wrists bound together and stuck against your spine.

“Now listen, you just lie there…”

He leaned down, whispering into your ear, his hot breath tingling you, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“… and try to keep quiet.”

Behind you, Cooper fell to his knees, pulling down his own pants before turning his attention to yours, uncovering just enough of you that he knew he could slip himself between your thighs and into your wet, warm cunt without leaving either of you too vulnerable to any surprise guests.

Once his other glove was off, you could feel his palm sliding up your back, cracked nails scratching at the nape of your neck before his fingers gripped your hair. Your back contorted as he lifted your face from the ground, positioning you perfectly for his curved cock, lubed with his own drool which he let drip down from his lips in a long, lewd strand, to slide inside of you with little mercy. He pounded into you once, setting the tone for the rest of the encounter you had to endure.

But he hadn’t lied.

“Just a little longer, darlin’, we’ll have you back on two legs… just hng gimme… ah… fuck, that’s it…”

His brutal pace, the way he was so desperately trying to get to the conclusion, the relief, the pain of the stretch, the heat in your own chest that made you moan in response to the way his cock pulsed within your walls.

But he was true to his word.

Because while one hand was tugging at the hair, fingernails scratching your scalp, his hips bucking into your body, knocking you forward and into the ground, his other hand clutched the shotgun, finger teasing the trigger, tempted to send shots into the air at his climax, but ready to defend you both against anyone, or anything, that threatened to interrupt him.

“See, darlin’… not so bad after all.”

[changbinsboiledegg]

skz with a very needy!sub??? 👀

btw your so cool i could give you a big smooch on the cheeks please never stop being cool

Thank you for thinking I am cool. What are we?

GN? Reader X SKZ

(Tried to keep some terms general, if that makes sense. No specific body parts were mentioned except for, yk, d1ck.)

MDNI!!!!!!!!

Warning: Dom x Needy Sub dynamic?, swearing, usage of vulgar language, teasing, some are hard doms, some are soft, usage of seggs toys, semi-public seggs mention, smut (only a little), protected or unprotected seggs— that’s up to you. Lol.

Note: I’m so sorry this is late, it’s been a shit month (year). I’ll learn to spell s*x properly when I’m rich. Until then, it’s SEGGS. (Joking) But regardless, here you go lovely. As always, if no one has told you, Ilyyyy 🫶🫶 If you see any typos, please bypass them I'm sorry.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

He doesn’t give in easily when you’re very needy. Surely you’re aware of this by now.

But that doesn’t stop you from trying everything under the sun to turn him on and need you just as much as you needed him.

“Please!” You begged, literally on your knees in front of him. He just looked down at you, unphased.

“Please what?” His gaze held you captive.

“Please…” you couldn’t finish that sentence, you brain turning to mush. You mentally cursed, hating that he made you nervous after you so confidently stripped in front of him slowly.

“Come on. Can’t fuck you if you don’t know what you want.” Chan stood firm on his role as your dom.

“Please fuck me.” You finally mustered out, meeting his gaze. Chan smirked.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Lee Know

Minho knew you were needy when it came to sex, but he specifically knew when you were needy.

He always knew what to do to make your neediness increase. He loved seeing you get so turned on.

Of course, he wasn’t evil. He always gave you the satisfaction you wanted, however, he definitely was going to play with you first.

You squirmed in your seat, trying to control your breathing as Minho remotely controlled the vibrator inside of you. He continuously changed modes, either sending you close to the edge or fueling your need for more.

“Had enough yet?” Minho asked. It was clear that he enjoyed teasing you. You whimpered as the vibrations send shivers through your body.

“I want you!” Your tone a pleading one. Minho took in the sight of you for a moment— a complete mess for him by him.

“I guess you’ve earned it. Come here.”

Changbin

When you were needy, Changbin didn’t waste a second. He wanted to give you what you wanted while still being in control.

You came to him, being extra clingy, knowing the second Changbin became just as touchy with you, he would make you feel so good that you would have trouble remembering your name for the minutes that followed.

You started out slow, mindlessly playing with his hand before it ended up resting on your thigh. Then slowly, he’d find himself sliding it towards your inner thigh, gripping and squeezing the flesh under.

Then he’d feel the result of your neediness and within a few seconds, he’s inside of you, taking you hard to satisfy your neediness.

At least in that moment, that is.

Hyunjin

He’s used to your neediness by now and even enjoys the fact that he’s able to turn you on without having to do anything.

He loves seeing the way you react to his actions, no matter how simple. Hyunjin doesn’t like making you wait, though.

One minute he’s running his fingers through his hair, the next he has you bent over and taking him so well, you forgot about everything troubling you.

“Hnng! Hyun-Hyunjin!” You felt his hand clasp over your mouth as he took you harder— faster.

“Shh, don’t want the others to hear you cum, right?” He whispered sharply close to your ear. You shook your head, but in the back of your mind, you thought about how you wouldn’t mind anyone else hearing how good he’s making you feel.

Han

“Can we sneak to the bathroom or somewhere private?” You asked Jisung, feeling particularly needy that day. Turns out you tend to feel needy at the wrong times.

“Why? What happened?” Jisung was oblivious at first, showing genuine concern. He thought you were having a good time at this party, and you were, but you wanted a different kind if fun.

“It concerns your dick.” You whispered, feigning innocence for the partygoers around you two. By the look on his face, he seemed just as needy to be inside of you in some way.

“Okay, I see now…” he immediately looked towards the nearest bathroom. “What if someone hears—“

As soon as you caught his gaze, you pulled him towards the bathroom. Jisung chuckled, “you know I’m in control, right?”

“This isn’t about control,” you shut the door and locked it, then immediately lowered to your knees. “It’s about need. And I need you now.”

Felix

You’d begged all day, the need for him to touch you in any way that he could was gnawing at you.

And still, Felix continued to tease you, making you beg more just for begging in the first place.

“Felix, please. I’m going to die if you don’t—“

Felix drowned your next words out by crashing his lips onto yours, his hand cupping your jaw just enough to keep your head in place, but not to hurt you.

“Tell me, darling. What is it you want exactly?” Felix’s breathy voice filled your ears once his lips departed yours.

“I need you. Whether it’s inside of me or-or…” you were trembling. Not from fear, but from the aching feeling between your legs. Felix kissed you again, softer this time.

“Lay back. I think you’ve earned it now.”

Seungmin

“No.” Seungmin said, not wavering in his response to your neediness. He knew you’ve been in a constant state of arousal since the event started but he wasn’t about to cut it short just to give in to your desires— or his, for that matter.

You felt a wave of disappointment but understood. You just wished he would do something immediately.

Seungmin looked over at you and discreetly placed his hand on your thigh underneath the table you two were sat at.

“Don’t look so sad. I’ll reward you when we get home.” He winked before gently squeezing your thigh, leaving shivers of need running up and down your body.

“Can you hold out for another hour?” He added in a low whisper, “or are you going to be impatient like last time?”

You wanted so badly to answer ‘yes’ to the second question, knowing your release would be delayed, but at least he’d start immediately.

But your patience always earned you the best orgasms. Fuck. You had to think carefully, and Seungmin was awaiting your response with a half raised eyebrow.

“I can hold out.”

Seungmin smirked, “good.”

I.N

Jeongin was never one to make you wait or delay your release whenever you were particularly needy for him.

Sometimes you wondered who was the dom and who was the sub.

of course, when you two were alone, you were reminded of your role as he filled you up while his hands tightly gripped your wrists, pinning you down into the mattress.

Even as he pounded into you, your body feeling the shocks of relief from the pent up tension between you two, you still felt needy for him.

“Ohmygod—“ you gasped, leading into a wordless cry of pleasure as you felt that familiar knot building up in your stomach.

“You’re so cute. You act like this is the first time I’ve fucked you like this.” Jeongin grunted, his pace unrelenting.

You knew by now that you were in for a long night.

[hana-no-seiiki]

I saw that you need ideas, so how about a yandere from the Neons? I mean, I would like to see more content from them since they represent the elements in Honkai star rail, by the way, sorry if you don't understand, my English is bad... I leave you a little drawing of a masculine makima (it has nothing to do with it, but as a gift ) xd Also, I don't know if I'm the only one, but Nanook makes me handsome >///<

(Sorry, I had already finished it but the work was stained hahaha and I did it again)

Yus the Aeons are so cool looking!! You really feel like they’re actual gods of the universe, especially since you don’t see them first hand (at least for now). Also Masculine Makima reminds me of Karma Akabane lol. I’ll draw it in my style, and add it here as an extra for you ♥️

Hb we mash those two topics up together actually?

warnings: mild yandere themes. mild spoilers for csm. major canon divergence. reader takes the shape of a masc/amab character but it isnt their original form.

status: unedited. updated art.

YANDERE! AEONS + VARIOUS! HSR x AEON OF FEAR/CONTROL! READER

You have no memory of your conception, only that you started existing for what felt like an eternity.

You represented fear and despair, but unlike IX whose mere presence drove humanity into insanity, or the rest of your fellow aeon’s godlike status amongst the world,

you walked around as a normal, ordinary human being.

As normal as an Aeon can get anyways.

In your current lifetime, you took the shape of Himeko’s “brother”, planting fake memories into her mind and being the one that urged her to travel the stars. While she was the navigator, you took the role of conductor before creating Pompom to supplant you.

Welt always knew you weren’t just a regular person. Your eyes always felt distant, so far off that not even a century’s worth of trail blazing would allow him to come close. As such he mostly kept cordial relations with you.

The youngsters of the bunch on the other hand, never seemed to realize the sheer magnanimity of the danger you held and always hung around you.

Particularly that Caelus. The newest addition to the crew. The stellaron within him always pulsed in some sort of giddiness and excitement whenever you were around. The boy couldn’t help but be a nervous wreck when he was around you. Stuttering and stumbling was a common occurrence whenever you so decide as to just breathe at his direction.

You knew what those Stellarons are, their nature, their purpose, the way they were created. In fact if you wanted to, you could have taken the Astral Express straight to the source of it all, your partner: Nanook.

However that would have ruined the fun of it all. So you chose to let them have their little adventures before the final confrontation.

Also because you signed a contract to not meddle with Nanook’s business in exchange for your freedom. But that was another story to tell.

“Why . . . why do you continue this farce? This utterly worthless play?”

IX’s voice rang within your ears and no one else’s. You were the only being it ever gave the time of day to. You imagine it to be the reason why insanity slowly built itself within the recesses of your head.

“You may see the entire universe as worthless . . . but I,” You breath hitched. You looked around your room. Time was frozen. Everything turned grey. You weren’t afraid of the others in the express hearing you, just that the following words you were about to spout out felt like bile on your mouth. “I suppose I’m still a bit like them in a way. I wish to see the world without its evils.”

“And destroying them. That is my first step.” You summon an orb of golden light. Stellarons. The creation of the very thing that made you loath all evil. Including yourself. You will eradicate these and then Nanook yourself. One day.

“Is that why you send those hunters out?”

“Perhaps.” The orb within your hands get covered in chains, quickly getting crushed within the metal like substance as it soon disappeared.

“Do as you wish. Just do not bother me like that imbecile.”

“I promise. I will be much worse than Yaoshi.”

IX remained silent for several seconds, no doubt regretting its decision of associating with you before adding, “. . . And do not die.”

“That one I cannot guarantee.”

Your room’s color returns, time continues. Signaling the end of two Aeons’ encounter.

Nanook, the Aeon that threatened to eradicate all that you love. All so they could have your soul once more. Within your gilded cage. Within your original body that lied dormant.

The Destruction will no longer be a path. That is a guarantee you write upon the stars when your Trail Blazing lifetime eventually comes to a close.

The stage is set, your actors ready.

All you needed was the cue.

Your gloved hand arose, pointing towards the express’s windows in the shape of a gun.

“Bang.”

[cillianhead]

Hey hey, I just found your blog and I really like your writing - especially Sitting Pretty since I'm a sucker for those Crane fics. :3

Would you maybe be up for some kind of comfort/fluff fic with Crane?

I am always up for some comfort/fluff when it comes to Dr Jonathan Crane. He's so babygirl <3

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.... thank you so much for your request!

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby || Jonathan Crane x Reader

warnings: none really, some brief mentions of violence, crying, angsty but also fluffy and comforting at the end, not really anything that bad to be honest, sort of non-canonical to anything that actually happened in the films.

It had been around a week since you had seen your boyfriend of three years. This was the longest you had gone without seeing Jonathan, without even hearing a peep from him. You even went to his work, he hadn't been there either. You knew what sort of dangerous work he did outside of Arkham and also within it, you knew the dangers and the risks he faced every time he left your apartment. You were still hopelessly devoted to him, despite the bad things that he has done and continues to do. You knew he would never hurt you. Him being gone felt like someone had ripped your heart out... like your soul was slowly being eaten away. Where was he? Was he even still alive? No. You mustn't think like that.

It was only a week, maybe he just needed some time away. Though he would've at least taken time off work, surely? His work told you he hadn't called in sick but he was supposed to be there. But he wasn't.

You hadn't cried. You found yourself growing more and more numb to the absence of Jonathan. It was like your body trying to reject a foreign object, trying to spit him out of your heart. It was painful and agonizingly slow, you knew you could never get over him, especially if you never got to say goodbye. His things lying around your apartment were a painful reminder of the fact he was gone. And he probably was never coming back.

You hadn't slept, at least not very well, in four days. You'd barely been eating either, maybe a stale cracker or two every now and then but you couldn't bring yourself to eat any proper meals. The best you could do was stare at the tiled wall as you stood in the scalding hot shower, trying to burn away the grief.

With the growing hunger and the fact you barely slept, paranoia was also sprouting within you, like some sort of sickly weed. You were worried that if Jonathan had been captured, whatever got him, was coming for you next. Every tiny little noise, every rumble, or car horn outside sent you running to the comfort of your shared bed. The one that smelt like him. You really couldn't sleep. Every shadow looked like some sort of evil horned figure ready to devour you whole, your eyes wide and frozen, helplessly full of fear. You thought about how Jonathan would assess this situation, how nerdy he got when you were afraid, in its own way you found it comforting the way he explained the body's reaction to fear and the way he explained the mind's power over the body.

The sleep you did get would be full of nightmares or vividly heartbreaking dreams. There was one you couldn't get over, a dream so sweet, more like a memory than anything else. Jonathan coming home from work, taking off his clothes and crawling into bed with you. His hands caressed your back softly, arms cradling you like you could shatter at any moment if he held you too tight. It felt so painfully real, that even when you began to wake up you could still feel him there. Still feeling his arms around you.

"Jonathan..." You whispered a sigh of relief, his arms pulled away from you as your heart raced with joy. Sitting up and looking around to find yourself just as alone as you had been for the past week. That's when you began to cry. "Jonathan..." You sobbed into your hands, you couldn't fall asleep after that. It was four in the morning, and the room was pretty much pitch black as you cried to yourself like a baby needing its mother.

Even more time passed. You were hysterical, you didn't pick up your phone when your friends called, you didn't leave the house, you didn't eat, and you most definitely didn't sleep. You were in bad shape, to say the least. It was that time of the year when the rain began to pour, your glass walls showed the bruised sky and the lightning it unleashed upon Gotham. You didn't work, Jonathan insisted on you staying at home, for him to provide for you. You were pretty happy staying at home and doing as you pleased. But now... it felt so different, there was no one to come home to you. You were pretty certain that the love of your life had died and you were going to spend the rest of your time alone. You knew you could never love again.

As if the sky knew how you felt, it only rained harder, it rained for days and it never stopped. You sat on the couch with a blanket draped over you as you lifelessly stared out at the dark sky. It was the middle of the night, and you thought about sweet nothings you and Jonathan shared. You thought about how lucky you were to see that side of him, so lucky you weren't on the other end, seeing the scarecrow, full of fear toxin. You thought about Jonathan humming while he made you pancakes, thought about the way he wrote you love letters almost every morning before he left for work, thought about the way you both were ready to get married soon. You remembered him holding your stomach while you brushed your teeth before bed and saying in that beautiful voice of his; "One day, you and I, are gonna have a bunch of beautiful babies and we'll live far far away from here. Everything will be perfect."

You sobbed and nothing brought you out of it. The pain in your chest was unbearable, no stupid fucking sad song or badly written poem could ever express it. There was no comprehensible word in any language that could truly explain away the agony you were in. You were no longer paranoid that something was going to come and hurt you, in fact, if there was someone or something out there coming to get you, you'd happily let it come in and put you out of your goddamn misery.

It was two soft raps on your bedroom window from the fire escape that caught your attention. You froze and stopped your crying, listening for it again, wondering if maybe you were just hearing things.

It's when you hear them again that you manage to stand up on shaky legs and wander into your bedroom that you see a shadow, leaning its weight against the window tiredly. It was him. With all the energy you could muster up, you ran to the window and slid it open before grabbing ahold of him and pulling him into your bedroom. You felt like you were going to have a heart attack.

"Y/N," Jonathan whispered. You didn't say a word, just turned on the lamp to light up the room. If this was a dream, you were going to try and enjoy every second of it. If this was the only way you could see your Jonny then you would take in every moment. "I... I missed you." And when you turned around, ready to scold him, ready to scream your lungs out at him for being gone, your heart broke all over again. His clothes were torn and covered in dried-up blood. Jonathan's neck was covered in bruises in the shape of handprints and his eyes were tired and void of any life. "Jonathan..." You whimpered, approaching him, he winced a bit as you placed your hands softly on his face. "Where have you been? What happened to you?" You were going to be angry at him before but now you understood... it wasn't his fault. He was soaking wet and you could see he had been crying too.

"I... I can't... really remember... I was drugged..." He mumbled, Jonathan's fingers curled around your waist and pulled you into a bone-crunching hug. He breathed you in, embracing you again was the only medicine he needed. Holding you was the only thing that could tell him was truly okay. "The Batman got me... I don't know how I managed to escape... just ended up here... I've been walking for days."

"Jonny..." You were crying as you sat him gently down on the bed. "I thought you..." You whispered. The strength was not in you to say it. "I thought you were..."

"Dead?" Jonathan croaked out, his voice was hoarse in a way that told you he had spent days on end screaming, from the torture he had been put through. "Yeah, me too." He said dryly.

You helped him undress. The clothes were pretty much useless so you tossed them on the floor in a pile to throw away later. "Let me clean you up..."

"No." He said. "Not right now..." Jonathan shook his head as he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest as you laid down in the bed with him again. "I just need to feel you..." His voice broke and in the process, your heart broke too. You could hear how defeated he was. "Need to feel you there." You understood, not saying another word as you clung to him. You listened to the sound of his heart, ear pressed right against his bare and bruised chest. You heard him sniffle, immediately causing you to pull away. "Oh, baby..." You cooed sadly, brushing a tear off his wounded cheek. The dam gates were open now as he began to cry, wincing at the salty tears mixing in with his busted face. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry that happened to you... I was so worried... you're here now... you're here with me... my baby."

"I thought about you every second," He sobbed. Jonathan looked like a helpless little child at that moment, his blue eyes were pitiful. "I thought I was going to die... thought I was never gonna get the chance to say goodbye to you..."

Together you sat crying, both with relief and sorrow as the rain poured outside, the heaven's crying with you. Everything felt okay again, for the both of you, now that you were with one another. "It's okay, Jonny." You tried to console him. Things had happened to him before, he'd been beaten up or caught in dangerous situations but he usually came home shrugging it off, this time you could tell he was severely traumatized, you could tell this was going to take a while for him to get over. Jonathan had that thousand-yard stare, that mischievous fire that usually lit up his eyes had been extinguished and now reflected the dreary weather outside. "I love you, baby, it's okay... nothing's ever going to hurt you again." You whispered, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You kissed him as gently as you could, knowing his lip was swollen and split open, you could taste the metallic blood from his mouth and the saltiness of his tears.

"Y/N..." Jonathan wept, his face now buried in between your neck and your jaw. "It hurts." The tone of his voice was the most heart-shattering thing you'd ever heard.

"I know, my baby," You hushed as you laid back down again, caressing his hair that was still wet from the rain. "Nothing will ever hurt you again." You reassured once again. "Nothing's going to take you from my side."

You cried your own tears of sadness, relieved he was back in your arms, relieved that you were there to take care of him and nurse him back to health. The morning sun had begun to rise by the time you two had properly nestled into your bed, skin pressed together, legs intertwined. Jonathan slept in your arms, you held him like a baby, you couldn't sleep, too happy to have him in your arms again.

"As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine..." You whispered softly into his hair.

-

[comicaurora]

top three changes to the star wars franchise?

Like, top three things I would change if I was in charge of the franchise top to bottom?

This is Big Cheating calling it "one change", but scrap the prequels. The original trilogy already implied an incredibly simple by-the-numbers dark fantasy origin story for Obi-Wan and Anakin and if we strip away the space veneer we can easily see that Anakin's original backstory was implied to be "prodigy warrior-wizard is tempted by dark magic (and an established evil sorcerer-emperor who has clearly been in power for more than a scant 18 years by the time of the original trilogy) which slowly corrupts and twists him into a monster who eventually has a fight with obi-wan that he loses, also he has a relationship with a woman who survives to raise Leia for at least a few years". Those are the only points you need to hit, and you could tell a very compelling simple-meal-well-made sword and sorcery adventure with a guaranteed tragic ending. The original prequels fail at holding to the ONLY points of canon they needed to hit - the innately corruptive power of the dark side SLOWLY leading to Anakin's downfall, the empire being an existing threat for a long time and the jedi correspondingly being an ANCIENT religion rather than being less ancient than 9/11, and Padme being alive enough for Leia to remember her a little bit. Close your eyes, clear your mind, let the tropes flow through you - a By-The-Numbers Story will come to you and you will see the completely inoffensive prequel tragedy we could've had. Also, never show Yoda, preserve the fun twist in the original movies.

Easy change for this one. Finn's a force-user with a plot about inspiring a stormtrooper rebellion, another plot that literally writes itself, also let the sequel trio actually all hang out for more than five fuckin minutes because the only thing that ever made Star Wars work was the raw charisma of the actors having a good time and the chemistry was really solid for the only time in the final movie they were allowed to share screentime.

And while we're gutting the sequels, how about letting the hero's victories actually fucking matter. Luke gets to actually reinvigorate the jedi way and doesn't have all his victories ripped away in the name of sequel bait, and can serve as an extremely powerful but very busy Jedi Ex Machina who turns up in the darkest hour to save the day, Mandalorian-s1-finale style. The Empire doesn't just get magically replaced with Empire 2, Now With Less Charisma, let the threat be something actually new or a natural consequence of a newly liberated galaxy in sudden turmoil - feudal tyrants ruling over planetary fiefdoms squabbling to fill the Emperor's power-vacuum, more sith lords coming out of the woodwork now that their greatest rival is gone. Leia and the other rebel leaders struggling to reinstate some semblance of democracy in a scarred and shattered galaxy too accustomed to the crushing totalitarianism of the empire. How goddamn unoriginal to start a sequel by undoing every happy ending from the original series for retreaded drama, as if the universe could only ever hold three problems in it.

[spamgyu]

If Mingyu’s get Oc’s flu? Will she take care of him? 👀

At this point, homegirl can admit her feelings xD

admit her feelings?? this is a slow burn babes. im going to make everyone suffer /laughs in evil/

JK.... but uh............. alright here's cute oc x mingyu crumbs

COLLEGE!Mingyu drabble – flus (again) and piggies

no bc college!mingyu as someone who lives down the hall from your dorm and you always run into him doing something questionable

[College!Mingyu Masterlist]

It's been days since she last seen him.

Not that she missed him. Definitely not that. No.

Never.

But she did have to admit that the absence of his presence, more importantly his pestering voice... was very evident.

At first, when she had first showed up back at their dorm building after spending nearly a week recovering from the nasty flu she had gotten from her roommate, she didn't pay any mind that Mingyu didn't seem to be lingering by her room.

He usually came by when she went away for a few days, ready to yap her ear off about all the things he had managed to get into whilst she was gone.

Maybe he was busy at the time.

But one day turned into three and there was still no sight of him. Not in the hallways, not in the library – hell, not even on campus.

And it wasn't like he was easy to miss – he towered over all his friends... and almost anyone around him. She can pick him out from a crowd within milliseconds.

Because he's tall.

Not because her eyes are searching for him. Definitely not that either.

Walking down to the end of the hall, Y/n lightly knocked on the wooden door.

"Come in."

Popping her head in, Y/n was ready to crack a joke about her life being much quieter since he hasn't been around; but instead the smile on her face fell.

He wasn't his typical chirpy self.

She was fully expecting him to greet her loudly the second he caught sight of her. Instead, he was under his covers – eyes sunken in, nose red from all the tissues he had use to get rid of his congestion.

"Oh my god, did I get you sick?" She gasped, walking over to his bedside – placing her hand on his forehead. Y/n instantly frowned, feeling the contrast of his body temperature to hers.

Mingyu slowly nodded, reaching into the half empty tissue box on his nightstand to blow his nose.

"I'm so sorry, dude."

"S'all good." He coughed into his elbow.

"I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

Mingyu cracked a smile. "You missed me, huh?"

"Eh, a little." She shrugged.

The smile on his lips grew larger. "You missed me!?"

"Let's not get too crazy now." Y/n laughed softly, motioning for him to move his legs – taking a seat in the now available space at the foot of his bed. "Didn't realize how quiet my life was when you're not around. The silence was almost deafening."

"Aw."

"That wasn't supposed to be cute."

"I'll take it.'' He smiled.

"You craving anything?" She asked, scrolling through her phone.

"Health."

"I meant food," Y/n flashed him her screen that was opened up to the food delivery app. "Least I could do is get you dinner."

"Are you trying to woo me, Y/n?" He teased.

Typically, she would be rolling her eyes at him. But somehow, the action never came – simply letting out another laugh instead.

He was definitely growing on her.

"I'm trying to make up for getting you sick."

"Make it up by hanging out with me this weekend."

The two had yet to actually do anything outside of their school campuses – mostly because they were far too busy with their own friend groups, studies, and lives. Mingyu had made a handful of attempts to make plans with her, but all were sadly declined due to prior commitments and plans.

He found the perfect opportunity.

"You're literally a walking virus right now."

"Okay, next weekend."

"Maybe."

"I'll pay." He added.

"Are you trying to woo me, Mingyu?" Y/n narrowed her eyes, asking playfully.

"Are you being woo'd?" Mingyu matched her tone.

"Maybe."

Maybe?

Maybe?!?!

Mingyu had gotten accustomed to her no's and waving off all and any attempts of flirting, he couldn't help but be taken back by the sudden change of answer – blinking quickly as he tried to process the word that had left her lips.

"Maybe?"

"Do you not want me to be?" She asked slowly.

"No I do, just– you never played along before."

Y/n shrugged. "You're sick, I'll give in this one time."

"Will you also give in to possibly spending the rest of your day keeping me company?"

He was pushing his luck, but considering she was being far more pleasant than her usual playful catty attitude – he was going to push all the luck he could find.

"Only if you let me order you food."

Mingyu handed her one of the pillows next to him. "Make yourself comfortable."

Kicking off her Uggs, Y/n happily extended her leg out in front of her as she went back to ordering the promised meal – not bothering to scold Mingyu as he began playing with the loose threads at the hem of her sweatpants.

"I got you Pho."

"Sounds good." He hummed, sinking deeper into the mattress.

Y/n took this as a sign to settle in as well, taking the pillow he had given her and placing it behind her back. "Did you miss all your classes this week?"

"Yeah. I did some wor– Your toes are cold!" He cried once her feet made contact with his upper arm, moving away from her.

Wiggling her toes, Y/n let out a loud laugh. "These piggies?"

"Gross!" Mingyu laughed, pushing them away.

"Gross? I thought you liked me!"

She was joking. She didn't know if he actually did have feelings for her – it had been such a long running joke, what was the harm of playing along?

"I thought so too!"

He was joking as well. He found it cute.

He found every part of her cute.

From the way her nose scrunched when she laughed, to the way she always painted her toes orange because she claimed it looked like little Cheetos. Mingyu was completely and utterly in love with the girl.

He watched as she settled down from the laughter, humming as she scrolled through her phone – completely unfazed by his gaze.

Oh he was down so bad.

"Hey," He tapped her leg, catching her attention. "I do– I– hm... I was joking."

"About?"

"I do."

"What?" Tilting her head to the side.

God, she was adorable.

"Never mind." He shook his head. He'll have to try another time – when he wasn't sick and able put together an actual, coherent sentence. "Wake me up when the food gets here, yeah?"

"Sleep tight, piggy."

"Are you calling me a toe?"

"A cute toe."

"A toe." He deadpanned.

"A cute toe!" She pushed.

Mingyu chuckled, knowing that there was no winning.

It wasn't like he cared anyways.

She could tell him that he looked like a chewed gum stuck on the bottom of her shoe, and he would take it.

@thegirlwhoimagined @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @vanillacheol @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx @daegutowns @jenoxygen @niktwazny303 @aahvii @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed @joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

[drawlfoy]

the benefits of journaling p.1

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: she/her pronouns/reader that stays in the girl's dorms, language, eventual discussion of murder and whatnot but not yet!, you being a little femcel-aligned/obsessed, tom being awkward because he's been stuck in a diary without talking to anyone for 50 years, i fumble around trying to explain how to brew potions after taking only one semester of high school biology

please note that this tom riddle is definitely not the same tom riddle that dumbledore describes in canon. i read a few meta posts that rewired my brain and now my tom riddle is ~complicated~ and not just evil and murdery for the plot. so just keep that in mind lol

a/n: whoa is this....something other than draco on this blog? yes. im suffering right now and needed to get this out. hopefully i can get this longfic completed within 2-3 parts! i'm not using my usual taglist because i don't know how many of my draco readers want this

wc: 10k

The day you unknowingly bought a part of the late Lord Voldemort’s soul was like any other. It was overcast, the thick clouds a somber, humid ceiling hanging above you and Lucy as you made your way through the annual antiques sale in a dusty corner of Diagon Alley.

“Y/N,” said your companion for the day—a slight, freckled witch with mushroom brown waves and a perpetual smile etched into her mouth. “Look. This is so you.”

You looked up from the bookshelves of one of the stands. It took you a moment to see what she was holding, but once it came into focus, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, sod off. Not funny.” 

Lucy just cackled, tossing the crudely carved wooden snake back onto the pile wearing a wicked grin. 

The world is cruel in that you can scream once when you see Draco Malfoy’s pet ball python in third year and no one ever lets you forget it. 

You turned away from Lucy, looking back to the old bookshelf that had been moved onto the cobbled street. The rich mahogany wood was close to buckling under the weight of all the tomes stacked haphazardly atop each other—far more than would be advisable. 

But it wasn’t just the furniture that caught your eye. No, it was the glimpse of a black spine on the bottom, partially hidden away by an ancient encyclopedia on arithmancy. 

You knelt, carefully arranging your robes so that they wouldn’t pick up dust from the street. You narrowly managed to avoid sending all the books on top tumbling into the street by slowly sliding it out from under the stack.

An unimpressively sized black journal laid in your hand, looking entirely unassuming and incredibly boring. 

You frowned. A quick flip-through confirmed that it was in fact a journal—and that there was nothing written in it. 

Why would someone try to sell an unused journal at an antiques market? You wondered, turning it over in your hand. Though its pages appeared entirely pristine, you could see some wear on the cover. There were no markings detailing when it had been manufactured.

It could very well have been an antique journal, you conceded. But why anyone would want an empty journal made years ago was beyond you.

You went to set the journal back onto the stack, getting so far as to nearly loosen your grip and let it drop from your fingers, when—

You had to buy this journal. 

You weren’t sure why, or how. You just knew that this journal was coming home with you today, even if it was the least interesting thing you could’ve come across in your shopping trip.

“What’s that?” asked Lucy, appearing at your side and gently taking the journal from you. 

“Just an empty journal, I think,” you answered, staring blankly at it in her hands. 

“You know we can just get a normal new one at the bookstore, right?” 

“Well, I like this one,” you heard yourself say. “It has…character.”

“Character.” She snorted, holding it up next to her face. “This is the most bland looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Consider yourself blind, then. Surely they’ll charge you twice the cost for this since it’s allegedly ‘vintage’.” Lucy made liberal use of air quotes. “You sure you don’t want to stop by the bookstore before we go? It’ll be on our way.”

“No, it’s really fine,” you said, taking it back into your hands, “I really like this one for some reason. I don’t know. There’s just something about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving it one last odd look. “Whatever you say. You go check out, then. Mum’s going to expect me back soon and the queue looks a bit long.” 

The journal sat in your bag for the remainder of the summer, nearly forgotten as you went about your day. You opened it for the first time to examine it on August 31st, just a day before you were off to begin your 6th year.

There was writing that you hadn’t noticed before—thin, elegant script on the inside of the cover in black lettering. A simple “Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

You stared, letting your finger trace gently across the parchment. There was a slight indentation at the lower swoop of the last letter “L”, like whoever had written it had pressed a little too hard with his quill. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” you whispered, trying the syllables out on your tongue. You’d never heard of any wizard named that before. You wondered how long it had been since those words had been written. You wondered if Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, and if he was, why he saw it fit to mark his property and then swiftly lose its custody to an antiques dealer. 

Oh well. Sucks to suck, you thought dryly as you took the quill that you’d been using to finish updating your calendar and lifted it over the parchment. Whatever happened to the crusty old dinosaur that hadn’t even been able to make one full entry into his own journal before croaking or whatever was none of your business.

You’d barely started out how you imagined a normal person would begin a diary—a date, August 31st—when it suddenly became clear why this Tom fellow had been unable to leave a lasting mark. 

The ink hadn’t even begun to dry before it sank into the pages, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, dumbstruck. You dipped your quill in ink once again and drew a series of short slashes across the first page, using more ink than was strictly necessary.

In a moment it was as if they had never been there.

WHAT??? You wrote mindlessly in the freshly blank page as your mind spun. What kind of magic was this? And what was the point? 

No wonder you’d been drawn to it. It was probably dripping in all sorts of charms. Maybe the combination had been unintentionally alluring to particular passerbys. 

Before you could think any further, the clean page transformed again, but not at your hand.

Hello.

The word assembled letter by letter, as if a ghost was writing it over your shoulder. 

It seems you've found my journal.

You stared. A journal that could write back to you. Huh. A smile caught on your lips as you became glad after all that you’d chosen this one over a plain bookstore version. 

How old are you? You wrote, resting your chin in your palm as you waited for a response as to whether or not your new acquisition actually belonged at the antiques market. 

Sixteen.

You frowned. That was hardly vintage.

This was made sixteen years ago?

The response appeared quickly..

No. I'm sixteen.

Yeah. You were made sixteen years ago.

This time, the journal seemed to hem and haw at the response.

What year is it? Was the final answer that appeared.

What year do you think?

1943. 

A little off. you wrote impishly.

Oh really?

Just a smidge.

Define a smidge, please. 

What does it matter to you?

This seemed to stump the journal. 

May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?

You may not. Then, because you had nothing better to do, you dipped your quill and drew out a Tic-Tac-Toe board, placing an X in the middle.

The board disappeared into the page, and for a moment you wondered if you’d annoyed your magical journal too much. But then it reappeared, this time with an O in the middle.

You huffed. When you took too long to respond, another line appeared below. 

I'm Tom. Tom Riddle.

You stared at the letters, the implications sinking in. If the journal had belonged to Tom—who was presumably a real person at some point in his life—then that would mean…which meant…

In seconds you’d slammed the journal shut and had your wand out, poking at the binding and being careful to avoid touching it again with your bare hands. Stupid, stupid you, buying something that had so clearly been engineered to lure you in, just like it probably had done to Tom back in the 40s. 

The antique market rarely had issues with unknowingly cursed objects. They were allegedly thoroughly vetted by the stand officials to ensure that something like this didn’t happen. But perhaps this one had fallen through the cracks.

There was nothing you could do for now except to wrap the journal in a blanket and throw it into your suitcase. As a muggleborn, there was going to be no real magic for you until tomorrow on the train. 

Better to investigate then, you decided firmly. With access to spellwork, you could at least cast protective wards around yourself and try to detect what exactly was wrong with it the next time you touched it. 

Yes, you thought. That cannot possibly go wrong.

~

“Y/N!” 

“Sorry, what was that?” You blearily blinked in the direction of Lucy and Ishan, both sitting there with an expectant look on their faces. 

“I was saying that I’m pretty sure that Parkinson and Malfoy are actually together this time,” said Lucy, frowning. “I just came from the loo and his head was in her lap. Revolting, to be entirely honest. I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes. But whatever. Are you feeling alright? You keep spacing out.”

“I’m fine.” You pulled the fabric of your robe over your wrist so you could gently scrub at your eyes. “Just—tough night last night. I barely slept.”

“I totally get that,” mused Lucy, nodding as her gaze fixed itself on the window. “I can normally never get to sleep the night before we leave. I just get so excited for the new year.”

You smiled. “Yeah.” 

But that hadn’t been your problem. Despite the creepy journal encounter that had left you with your mind spinning, you’d fallen asleep deeply the moment you’d gotten into bed. The issue had been staying asleep after all the dreams you’d had. 

You rarely dreamt. When you did and remembered it the next day, it was normally nonsensical and had to do with forgotten final exams or missing a lecture. But last night…last night had been different.

There was a boy. His hair was dark and his face cast mostly in shadow, his voice a tenor that seemed typical to boys in your year. He hadn’t been speaking anything you’d understood, though. The most peculiar, bone-chilling hissing noises came from his mouth as he bowed his head leaned over a vaguely familiar sink. 

Even though he wouldn’t acknowledge you, it was as if a channel had been opened between you two, like you could feel his emotions as phantoms within you. 

Franticness. Vindictiveness. A thirst for vengeance beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

You sat watching this mysterious dark haired boy from the cobbled floor, feeling the wetness on the stones seep into your robes, climbing up and up until it soaked your skin. 

At precisely 4 in the morning, you’d shot awake so distressed that you hadn’t slept a wink after. Needless to say, you were hardly what you’d consider to be well-rested.

The remainder of the train ride and the welcoming feast went on without a hitch. You managed to keep yourself from falling asleep at dinner and even joined in on the cheering for new Ravenclaws. The first years seemed to look younger and younger every year, you noted dully as you cut into the roast on your plate. It was making you feel awfully old.

Sixth year was supposed to be exciting—the year of N.E.W.T.S and figuring out what you’d concentrate in during your final year and getting to go to Hogsmeade without permission. But you hadn’t quite figured out what it was that you wanted to study. Being a muggleborn from a modest upbringing meant that you couldn’t be too frivolous. There was no amateur art or sports or celebrity career in your future. You couldn’t even count on marrying well—or marrying at all, in fact. None of your halfblood or pureblood friends seemed to understand that your family hadn’t already had an engagement arranged for you from the moment you were born. It was hard to look forward to a life that was so cloaked in uncertainty. 

That being said, you had more immediate concerns to attend to. Though the journal was tucked safely away in one of your suitcases far away in the Ravenclaw Tower, you couldn’t help but feel its presence. You were itching to get back to your dorm so you could steal away into a corner and begin to inspect it. 

Dumbledore finally dismissed the students after a rather uninspiring speech about the importance of dreaming big and staying true to yourself. You all but ran up the stairs, rushing to unpack all of your things.

“Merlin,” noted Padma from her desk. “That excited to move in?”

“I just want to go to bed,” you said, relishing the feeling of casting a spell to quickly stow away your skirts and button ups into your dresser. “Long day.”

“And even longer tomorrow.” Lucy was sitting at her desk, her feet crossed at the ankles. She’d somehow unpacked even quicker than you. “Does everyone have their finalized timetable for the term?”

“I’ve got Potions with Slughorn and Transfiguration with McGonagall on Mondays and Thursdays,” you began, unzipping your last bag and flicking your wand to send your school supplies to your desk. “Divination with Trelawney, Arithmancy with Vector, and Runes with Babbling on Tuesdays and Fridays. And of course the extended lab section on Wednesday for Potions.”

“Which lab section?”

“Morning,” you said. The diary was levitating from your wand now, looking unassuming and very innocent under the golden light of your dorm room. “You?”

“Same,” said Lucy, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re taking N.E.W.T level Divination. Do you hate yourself?”

“It was that or History of Magic.”

She nodded emphatically, turning back to make a marking in her planner.

With the dorm settled into a comfortable silence, you brandished your wand again, peering at the diary in front of you. 

There was nothing outwardly sinister about it. When you’d gone over to Ishan’s manor over Easter break last year, he’d shown you some of the (potentially unlawful) darker artifacts that his old pureblood family had in possession. They’d felt dark. This journal didn’t have that syrupy thick feel around it. Its aura felt sparkly, magnetic. Surely it couldn’t have been dark magic. Because all dark magic felt dark, right?

You gulped. You wouldn’t touch it with your bare hands anymore, you reasoned. Just spellwork and using the tip of your wand to maneuver it. Just in case.

Your 5 years of Hogwarts education had left you sorely deficient in useful diagnostic spells, so you dug around in one of your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks from previous years and found a section on spells to examine magical objects. 

Revelo you whispered, feeling the slight jolt of magic as the charm left your wand. 

Nothing, It didn’t even glow blue, a sign of magically active objects. 

Huh. 

You frowned. The slightly more obscure spell you’d heard Snape use once on a student’s suspiciously well-written essay didn’t yield anything either. 

“Whatcha doing?’

You nearly screamed, clutching your wand to your chest. 

Lucy grinned wickedly as she leaned over your shoulder and reached for your journal. “Ooh, is this that thing you bought at—”

“Don’t touch!” You quickly batted her hand away. 

“Sheesh,” said Lucy. “Chill. I wasn’t going to read it or anything. I was just wondering why you were waving your wand at your journal. Secrecy spells?”

“No,” you said. Your heart was racing, “Er—not quite. I actually haven’t written in it, you see,”

“Oh?” Lucy’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Explain the theatrics then?”

A half-baked lie formed at your lips that was about to spill when you stopped yourself. Lucy was your friend. She’d been your best friend since the moment you’d met on the Hogwarts Express during first year. There was no reason to lie.

“It’s so weird!” You motioned towards the diary with your wand. “I buy this, right, because I feel this weird draw to it. And I take it home and try to write in it, and suddenly the book starts writing back.”

“A self-writing journal?” 

“Not quite. Maybe. Maybe not, I’m not sure. It’s just—something’s not totally right about it, but I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not.”

Lucy gave a good natured snort. “A journal? Dangerous? And from old Linda’s stand? Please. I see her going through everything in her inventory. The poor shopboy in charge of vetting items has to answer to her if he slips up. There’s no way anything actually powerful slipped onto the stacks.” 

You stuck the tip of your wand under the cover and carefully pried it open, pointing at the lettering on the inside. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” She frowned. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

“I don’t know,” you responded at the swooping lettering. “But the journal talked back like it was Tom. Like, it introduced itself as Tom and said that it was 1943. And it acted like an….I don’t know. It was like it was a real person talking to me.”

“Huh.” You could see the gears slowly turning in Lucy’s head,

“Do you know any detection or diagnostic spells?” you asked. “I tried all the ones that we’ve learned so far and it doesn’t even detect magic. But it has to be cursed, right? If the last owner of this diary got sucked into it?”

Lucy was just beginning to open her mouth when ink began to appear.

It is rather rude to be casting all sorts of spells in my direction without warning.

You jumped. “Jesus Christ. Do you see that?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Lucy, but her eyes were crinkled. “Girl. Don’t worry. If it was dangerous, you’d probably know by now. You’ve had it around you for, what, two months? And you’ve already touched it. It doesn’t feel dark. I don’t think there are any slow burning curses that gradually trap you inside an object. If you’re still alright, you’ll probably stay that way. Maybe you should just ask Tom how he got there?”

“If I start disappearing, do try to keep me in this plane.”

“Noted.”

Nervously, you dipped a quill on your desk into an inkwell, waiting for a moment before thinking up how to word your request. In the meantime, a drop of ink fell to the page. It was quickly swallowed up by the parchment.

Sorry you began. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to trap me in there with you or something

An understandable concern

“Just ask him the bloody question,” said Lucy, hitting your shoulder. “I want to go to bed.” 

“Right, right.” 

If you'd like me to stop with the spells, maybe you could tell me how you ended up in here in the first place

“Nice,” said Lucy. She was nodding thoughtfully. “Very smooth.” 

It took a long time for Tom’s answer to appear despite the fact that your writing had almost instantly disappeared. Finally, black ink began to rise. 

It was an accident. Nothing that can be replicated by you, however. There's no need to worry. I fooled around with the wrong book in the school library.

“School library?” Lucy leaned closer so that the locks of her hair dangled over your shoulder. “Ask him if he went to Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts? You wrote quickly. 

Yes.

In your sixth year?

Yes.

“Ooh.” Lucy hit your shoulder. “Maybe you can use this to get comfortable talking to boys, Y/N.”

You scoffed, blushing a hot red. “Excuse me! I’ve told you. I’m too busy for that.”

“Uh huh.” She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “Well, I think you should just keep it. It’s harmless. Like I said, it’s from one of the tamest parts of Diagon Alley. And you wouldn’t be able to get anything genuinely dark into Hogwarts. The wards would’ve detected it. Have fun with it.”

“Have fun with it?”

Lucy shrugged, bouncing once as she settled down on her bed. “I dunno. Think about it. I think a responding diary could be fun. Let’s say I’m not around to gossip one day. You have another outlet. Or maybe you could use him to help you study or something. Really, the possibilities are endless.” 

“True.” You mulled over the thought as you let your wand sit on its stand on your desk. Tentatively you grasped the soft leather of the journal and pulled it nearer to you. Tom was waiting for your response, after all. 

Me too you wrote.

And you still won't tell me your name?

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to tell him my name?” you asked Lucy, whipping around.

She set down her book and shook her head. “What’s he gonna do with it? He’s stuck in there.” 

Y/N. 

A splotch of black appeared on the other end, but it was quickly crossed out. 

How did you find me?

Antiques sale in Diagon Alley

I'm an antique?

Given that 1943 was over 50 years ago, yes

Nothing from Tom.

Is that not what you expected? You added. 

I'm not sure

Just as you were about to close the journal and head to bed, Tom wrote again.

And how are you liking your time at Hogwarts?

It's nice. Fall term starts tomorrow. 

You thought about leaving it there, but for some reason the words began to spill out of you. 

It does feel weird being so close to graduating, though. I don’t know quite what it is that I want to do yet.

Oh? But surely you must have some idea.

You pressed the end of your quill to your lips, debating whether or not to share it with this mysterious Tom. In the end, Lucy’s previous comment was what made the scales tip. What did it matter? Tom wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I would really like to go for a cursebreaking mastery abroad, but that hinges on what happens in my N.E.W.Ts this year. I need an O in Potions. 

I was taking N.E.W.T Potions at the time that I was trapped, Tom wrote. Perhaps I can be of assistance.

I can’t ask that of you.

Please do. It’s terribly boring being all alone in here.

You swallowed, watching the ink slowly sink back into nothing. 

What do you mean? What’s it like being trapped?

It took a while for a response to form.

Quiet. You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had. I’m still in Hogwarts, technically, but there’s no one else here. 

I’m sorry you found yourself writing before you could stop yourself. That sounds very lonely.

I don’t mind being lonely. It does get a bit dull, though. 

“Luce,” you said, leaning over the back of your desk chair. “He just offered to help me with Potions.” 

“See? Useful.” 

I've got to go to bed now. First day of classes and whatnot. 

Best of luck

Can you sleep where you are?

I don’t need to but I can

The words chilled you somewhat, but you pushed the feeling away. 

Well, goodnight you wrote. 

Goodnight

~

How were classes?

The ink appeared the moment you flipped open the journal. It was already two weeks into term, and you’d written to Tom nearly every night. You were curled up in bed, your blankets pulled heavy around your lap and your pajamas clean and smelling of lavender. A mug of tea lay steaming on your bedside table, its tendrils barely visible in the dim golden light of the candle you’d lit. 

As expected you wrote, yawning. How was your day?

Oh, you know. Thrilling.

You snorted.

“What are you giggling about?” Lucy’s voice snapped you back into reality. You looked up to see her peeking over the textbook in her lap, a smirk etched deeply into her lips. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but the way you slammed the journal shut gave it away.

“Talking to your fake boyfriend, huh?” teased Lucy. 

“I’m not even going to answer that.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a fucking journal. It’s not like he’s real.”

“Didn’t he say he was trapped in there?”

You huffed. “I guess. He seems to have accepted his position in life, though. It’s not like he’s begging for help.” 

“No,” agreed Lucy. “But just think about it. What if you did manage to get him out? How romantic would that be?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” 

Lucy ducked away from the pillow you lobbed in her direction, cackling maniacally all the way. 

There you are. I thought I’d bored you. 

The words reappeared within seconds of you reopening the journal. You tried to smother the way your lips turned upwards at the sight. 

Sorry you wrote back, hoping that Lucy was sufficiently distracted with her textbook and would give you a rest for the night. A friend wanted to talk.

Does this friend know about me?

You held your quill to your lips for a moment before you wrote back.

Yes. She loves to tease over how much time I spend writing to you 

I take it she doesn’t understand

Quite the contrary. She’s the one who encouraged me to write to you in the first place, in fact.

How so?

Something about how it would be nice to be able to tell my secrets to someone who could never tell anyone else

Tom’s response took a bit longer to appear this time around. 

Oh? Any you’d like to share now?

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the drying ink. 

You first.

For a minute, you thought that maybe Tom had disappeared. The parchment remained blank and clean. Maybe he’d gotten bored with you and had gone off to…whatever he did in his empty version of Hogwarts. 

Then the lettering appeared again. 

I used to have a pet snake when I was a child. I was an orphan, you see, and the other children thought that I was too strange to play with. I was terribly lonely. The matron took us to the beach once, and I found this little grass snake in the weeds. I stuck it in my pocket and took it back to the orphanage with me. 

You lived in a muggle orphanage? 

Yes. Obviously. Once I was amongst magicfolk, people did find me quite charming. 

Why’d you pick a snake?

I liked having someone—or something, I suppose—to talk to. 

You stared as the ink sunk back into nothing. Talk. Snakes. Talking?

Are you a Parselmouth? 

I’ve already given a secret Tom wrote. Your turn. 

Will you answer if I give you one?

That’s only fair. 

Secrets—you barely had those. You’d grown up sharing nearly everything with Lucy since you’d been paired up in first year Charms class. 

Not losing your nerve, are you?

I’m just thinking you quickly wrote back. I don’t have many secrets. 

Surely you do. 

This isn’t a very exciting secret. Heat rose to your cheeks as your quill scratched against the paper. But I haven’t told anyone this. 

Go on.

I can’t tell anyone this because they’ll think I’m annoying. I do really well in classes. But I feel like I’m never going to be smart enough. It seems like nothing that I ever do will be enough to stand out 

I understand more than you know

What do you mean?

I was sorted into Slytherin. Coming from such a modest background meant that I had to prove that I was worth the space I was taking up 

A swell of…something rose in you as you stared down at the paper. You tried to imagine this mysterious Tom in the familiar green robes that you saw every day in Potions, scrunching his nose up over a book and studying hard. All alone—motivated by the knowledge that no one was rooting for his success—knowing that there was no name he could depend on to cover even one misstep—

You blinked. Whoa. That was some serious projection. 

I can’t really tell this to anyone else. All of my friends come from influential pureblood families, so they just don’t get why I don’t get to make mistakes or slip up. They think I’m so uptight

Exactly. They all have safety nets. The grades, the house points, the prefect badges—those are all just surface level. It’s your name that gets you anywhere important 

“You’re looking mighty serious over there,” said Lucy from over her textbook. “Trouble in paradise?”

You laughed tightly. “Er, no. Just talking.” 

“Uh huh.”

I always feel like it’s evidence that I don’t belong when I don’t immediately understand something in class you add into the journal. To your horror, tears started pricking at your eyes. None of your friends were muggleborns. You’d never been able to voice these things out loud—or on paper, in this case. Writing it all out seemed so sad now. Like today in Runes. It took me longer than usual to understand a translation technique for this ridiculous slate from the Middle Ages. I had to talk myself down from believing that I’m faking it and that everyone else doesn’t even need to try

Is Babbling still there?

Yes. She’s still teaching 

She was already too old to be coherent when she was teaching me wrote Tom. Tell me, do you have to rennervate her throughout the lesson to keep her present?

She was old back then??? 

Ancient. 

I can’t believe she’s still alive. You chewed on your lip as you thought. She’s practically a fossil.

Do you think of me like that? Old?

Would it make you feel better if I said I considered you vintage? 

I’m wounded

“Fucking get to the library and start researching ways to pull that poor boy out of there,” said Lucy from her bed, “Or stop giggling like that. Merlin. You’re killing me. You’re practically twirling your hair.”

“Shut up!” Slowly, you opened the journal back up after slamming it closed.

Your friend again?

Yes you scribbled back. She’s teasing me again about how I should try to get you out of here. Which I’m assuming is impossible, since I’m doubtful you’re even a real person

I’m very real

Your blood cooled. 

Then why haven’t you asked me to get you out? 

A pause—just long enough for you to feel suspicious. 

I’ve gotten quite used to my little home in here wrote Tom finally. And forgive me if I believe it a bit forward to immediately demand the first person to which I speak to orchestrate my extraction. 

Extraction. Interesting word choice, you thought. 

How polite. Part of you was beginning to feel the slightest bit uneasy. And what would this so-called extraction entail? 

That I haven’t quite figured out yet. The response was instantaneous. Ever since we’ve met I’ve been returning to the library in hopes of finding an answer.

Which book trapped you in here?

Another pause. 

I sincerely doubt it’s still in print wrote Tom. It was a very dangerous book with dark, terrible magic. I had no business digging around in it. I paid the price dearly. 

He refused to elaborate.

You spent the entire weekend digging through the Restricted Section, paging through every book you could imagine that had anything to do with Tom’s situation.

Nothing. Nada. Zero. You tried every querying spell you could think of. You were desperate enough to recruit Madam Pince by telling her that you were writing a paper for a class and needed to find anything there was on getting yourself trapped in magical objects. What she did dig up was at best irrelevant—tales of ill-executed Animagi rituals that resulted in the wizard getting stuck in their animal form and reports of interactions with cursed objects sending the users into a different dimension, never to be heard from again. 

But as you were leaving the library on Sunday night, feeling downtrodden and profoundly disappointed, you saw something that caught your eye: the Alumni section. 

It was one of those things that you always passed by without another thought. No classwork required students to reference previous Hogwarts attendees. It existed largely to appease the old families by nodding to their longstanding presence in Hogwarts, and the only friends who you had ever seen in this part of the library were purebloods curious about their ancestry. As a muggleborn, this was predictably unrelatable. There’d been no person of interest waiting for you in the old, dusty books that were shoved neatly into chronological order, no long-lost ancestor or namesake. 

Not until now. 

The click of your oxfords against the dark hardwood echoed as you came to a stop in front of the stacks. Every yearbook was the color of that school year’s House Cup winner, and the one with 1943-1944 on the thin spine was a rich, loud red. It slid easily from the shelf—which was a relief, because occasionally older books required permission to handle and were thus unremovable—and settled gently in your hands. 

For a second you pondered leaving the aisle and finding a table to crack it open and savor the moment, but the thought of having to explain why you were looking at the 1943 class yearbook would be embarrassing. Doubly so if Lucy found you—she’d never let you hear the end of it. So, case closed. You’d open it here. 

Oh god. You swallowed and used the cuff of your free sleeve to wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on your forehead. This was a terrible idea—or was it? Maybe he wouldn’t be your type. Yes, maybe he’d look just like someone who annoyed you in class or he’d have poorly kept hair or he’d have a creepy smile. Then you could stop thinking about—that.

And that shouldn’t even matter! You squeezed your eyes shut to dispel the thought. It was all Lucy’s fault for teasing you so much about him being your sort-of-weird-ghost boyfriend—part of you was starting to pretend like that was real. And it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that no boy before had managed to make you this excited to talk to them. It didn’t matter that he got you like no one else in this castle seemed to. It didn’t, because as of present he was actually a journal and not a corporeal being.

In short, you reminded yourself harshly, you were checking this yearbook to verify that a Tom Marvolo Riddle did in fact exist and attended Hogwarts during the time period he claimed. That was it—nothing more. 

Nervously, you let the cover flip open and began to card through the thick pages. Moving pictures of entirely unfamiliar students greeted you, flashing past your eyes. First years, second years, third years, fourth years…

You paused before turning from the fifth year page to the sixth, overwhelmed with the thought that whatever you saw was going to change the way you saw your interactions with the diary. If he wasn’t there, you’d need to re-evaluate how safe this whole diary scenario was. You’d need to go back and reconsider if anything you’d heard from him was ever the actual truth. And if he was…

You swallowed. You couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t been imagining what he’d look like on nights that you struggled to fall asleep. There was never a face you could settle on. Whenever you’d spin up something in your mind’s eye, the features would shift and morph into something entirely different before you could enjoy it. 

But it didn’t matter—it couldn’t matter, because it was crazy that you’d even been fantasizing about a potentially make-believe boy who only existed in a worn diary. 

You turned the page, and Tom Marvolo Riddle stared right back at you.

Tom looked every bit of what you’d expect a Slytherin prefect to be like. Everything about him was neat, orderly, and intentional, from the tidy robes to the obediently shaped dark waves atop his head that looked tragically soft. The only thing out of place was a single piece of black hair, dangling temptingly in the middle of his forehead. 

His lips were drawn into a polite almost smile, his image almost entirely still save for the slight bob of his throat that repeated as the image replayed, over and over again. 

Tom was pretty—much prettier than you ever could’ve thought up on your own. He looked unreal, like he’d been sculpted by some higher being’s hand with the express purpose of being devastatingly ethereal. 

And he’d been talking to you. Connecting with you. And he was real. The weight of your satchel over your shoulder reminded you that he was right there. All it’d take was a quill and some ink to speak to him again. 

The picture had repeated its loop one final time before you closed the book shut and pushed it back onto the shelf, hearing the pounding of your heart the whole way.

When you wrote to him that night, you tried your best to keep yourself imagining how he’d look writing back. Would he smile when he saw that you’d opened the journal? Would he laugh at your (admittedly stupid) jokes? 

September turned into October which tilted into November with such speed that you could barely breathe. Time barreled ahead as classes sped up, assignments piled on, and each day became just another challenge to survive. 

Tom remained one of the few constants in your life, alongside Lucy and Ishan. It was concerning how much you’d come to confide in him, telling him things that you’d never dare to share with anyone else. You told him about the little accomplishments that you could never bring up to your friends, like Professor Snape insulting everyone’s potion except yours and what McGonagall wrote on your most recent paper, calling it one of the most well-researched essays she’d gotten from a N.E.W.T level student. You even told him how Lucy occasionally got on your nerves and how it made you feel like a bad friend. 

He was a good listener and an even better conversationalist. When he wasn’t being your confidant, he was more than happy to indulge any academic topics of interest. You spent hours going back and forth, debating the content of the news headlines that you’d tell him about each day. 

With time, the memory of Tom’s face and intimidatingly good looks faded to the back of your mind. You’d barred yourself from going back into the Alumni section in the library lest you felt inspired to crack open his yearbook again and remind yourself just how attractive your imaginary friend had been when he’d been alive. If you did that, then you’d start fantasizing about a future where you invented some sort of way to pull him out, and that was just silly. You had exams, and Tom didn’t seem particularly rushed in leaving his journal—or he’d at least come to accept that he’d never leave.

Despite this new normality you’d built around the strangeness of the journal, some things still felt tense. You’d grown comfortable with Tom—arguably more comfortable with him than nearly anyone else, save for maybe Lucy, since you couldn’t ever imagine opening up the journal and telling him all about the fact that it was your time of the month and detailing exactly how your cramps were making you feel—but there was this underlying sense of anticipation. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. You just knew that things couldn’t be like this forever. Something had to give. 

In the end, it was Professor Snape who started it. He’d looked down at your cauldron and said something about how your Draught of Living Death base was the most elementary thing he’d ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon and that you were lucky to even be allowed into the class, and something inside you broke. 

You’d tried so hard on that potion. You’d followed the instructions to a T. You’d diced everything evenly and stirred it with the precision of a muggle performing brain surgery. Potions had never been your best subject, and you tried to make up for it by trying harder than everyone else. Normally it worked, but N.E.W.T potions was something else.

Tom was taking longer than usual to respond to this particular soliloquy that night, a few letters surfacing before he scribbled them out.

I know this might seem scary he finally wrote. I’ll understand if this frightens you too much. But I think that I may be able to help. 

What do you mean, scary? Are you a mean tutor or something?

I mean that I can show you how to brew that Draught Tom replied. 

Show me?

If my research is correct, it’s possible that I can temporarily cross you over into my world. 

Your heart thudded, your hands suddenly clammy. 

“Lucy?” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Lucy tossed her book onto her desk and turned to face you. “Oh no. Did something happen? You look awful.”

“Gee. Thanks.” You swallowed. “Er—sort of? I was writing to Tom about how crazy Potions class was today and he told me that he could help me. Like actually tutor me.”

“Is that not a good thing?” 

Your mouth was dry. “No. That’s not it. He means like, tutor me tutor me. In person. He says he can cross me over into his world temporarily.”

Lucy froze. 

“I have to say no, right?” It was so, so stupid that you were asking that. Of course you had to say no. There was no telling what he could do to you if you said yes. Maybe he was actually a demon that was attempting to possess you. Maybe he was going to eat your soul and use your body as a husk to feed on the other students and—

“I mean, probably not.” She thoughtfully pressed the top of her quill to her mouth. “Think about it. You guys have been in contact for months and nothing supernatural has happened. We already came to the conclusion that the journal isn’t dark magic because the wards would’ve kept it out.”

“But what if I get stuck with him? I haven’t been able to find anything about this type of magic before. I don’t know how it works.”

Lucy hummed. Then realization flickered across her features. “Hang on. I think I have something that might help.” 

She dug around in one of her desk drawers until she produced a small spool of half-used thread. It was golden in color but so thin it was nearly iridescent. 

“What’s that?” you asked, squinting at it. 

“It’s Invisible String,” said Lucy, already rolling it out and pulling it around your wrist. It was pleasantly warm against your skin, like it’d just been sitting out in the sun. As soon as it made contact with your body, it disappeared. “It used to be used for Ministry Employees who used Time Turners. Whoever is on the other end of the thread is able to pull the wearer back to this reality and this timeline. It’s very useful in avoiding nasty time related incidents. My dad took home a bunch of spools when Time Turners were officially outlawed. He taught me how to apparate with them since it can also work over long distances in the same reality—just in case I did something stupid.” 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring down at your wrist. There was nothing to stare at, of course. It was already gone. But it was an ingenious little contraption, probably charmed so many times with such obscure and rare spells that it would go for thousands of galleons if you tried to buy it yourself.

The perks of having a rich pureblood best friend, you supposed.

“As long as I’m holding the other end, I’ll be able to bring you back,” explained Lucy, holding the spool up demonstratively. “So, go for it. If that’s your only hold-up, I think you should go meet him. If anything, at least it’ll help your Potions grade.” 

You turned your attention back to the journal, worrying your lip for a second before you dipped your quill in the inkwell and wrote out Ok. 

“This is so exciting,” said Lucy from over your shoulder. “You have to tell me everything when you get back.”

“If I can come back.”

She dangled the spool in front of you. “I’ll make sure of that. If you’re not back by curfew, I’ll yank you back to this reality by myself.”

“Right.” Anxiety began to build in your middle, bubbling up until you were sure you were trembling. 

This might feel a bit uncomfortable was all Tom wrote before you were suddenly falling into a void.

When the inertia faded and light slowly bled back into your vision, you were sprawled on the floor of a Potions classroom that you’d been in when you were a second year. Tom Riddle stood tidily a few feet away from you, wearing the same formal school robes you’d seen on him in the yearbook. 

“Hello.” His voice was proper and measured. It fit him perfectly, but the fact that you were finally hearing him speak for the first time made you feel something that was highly inadvisable. 

“Hi.” 

For a moment, you just stared right back into his eyes as the silence closed in around you and the gravity of your situation sunk in. You’d really done it now, hadn’t you? As if to comfort you, the thread around your wrist warmed against your skin. 

“Don’t worry,” said Tom, like he could already tell what you were thinking.“You won’t be trapped. It’s me who’s bound to this world.” 

“And how are you so sure of that?” 

“This is a prison for my soul,” he said casually. “Not yours. You have nothing keeping you here.” 

“Right.” You slowly made your way from the ground to your feet, brushing off your robes and casting a few cleansing charms to dispel the dust clinging to you. At least your magic seemed to work fine here, you noted. It was a small comfort to know that you’d be able to defend yourself if shit went left. 

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” Now that he was speaking more, you couldn’t help but admire the way he sounded—silken and smooth and entirely unbothered, like he did this every day. “I was sure that I’d scared you off.”

“You underestimate how much I want that Potions O,” you offered. 

“Never,” he said dryly. “Now that I see that you’re a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t endeavor to make such ill-informed assumptions.”

You blanched, your head whipping down to take in what you were wearing. You weren’t sure why you were so shocked to see that you were wearing exactly what you’d had on moments ago at your desk—a midnight blue jumper with the Ravenclaw emblem stitched into the left breast, pulled on top of the white button up with the bronze and blue tie tucked underneath. That, and the standard-issue Hogwarts skirt and tights. Hardly dungeon attire—if you didn’t start brewing something soon, you’d be shivering. 

It all looked very silly compared to how many layers Tom was wearing. His prefect pin glinted under the dim lighting of the Potions classroom, and you tried your best to keep your heart from swooning. 

“Did I not tell you that I was a Ravenclaw?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I don’t believe so. I would’ve remembered.” 

“Are you surprised?”

He cast his dark eyes up to the ceiling and scrunched his nose in a way that you thought was meant to convey a serious bout of thinking. “Not quite. I was stuck between that and Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?” You couldn’t stop the way you grimaced at this.

“I thought we had enough in common for it to be plausible.” 

A thrill shot through you. “I’m sorry to disappoint.” 

“I suppose I can't be too taken aback,” he said mildly, stepping neatly back and conjuring a cauldron to appear on the tabletop to his right. “You are a muggleborn. I don’t know of any who have been sorted into Slytherin.” 

This wasn’t news to you, but Tom’s delivery stung more than usual. The implication hung heavy in the air that you were somehow in the inferior house, only placed in Ravenclaw because of your blood. As an afterthought—as a convenient place for you to be put away. 

“That’s true,” you said, stepping closer until only the brewing table was in between you two. “But I doubt that I’d have been sorted there, even if I had been born a pureblood. The whole glutton-for-knowledge thing about Ravenclaw has always been me.”

“I disagree.” Tom summoned over a few jars of ingredients with a nonverbal wave of his wand. “If you’d been born with purer blood, you wouldn’t be so desperate to find a way to compensate.”

You flinched. Ouch. 

“I’m very aware of why I feel the need to work so hard,” you snipped. “But I really don’t think that has anything to do with my genuine academic curiosity. If I was so single-minded in using knowledge for compensation then perhaps I would have been a Slytherin.”

For a moment, his dark eyes flashed with something that you couldn’t quite catch before his face ironed itself into something impassive once more. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You frowned, watching as he placed familiar ingredients on the table and began lining them up. “It’s fine. Just a bit of a sore spot, that’s all.” 

He gave you a look that made you feel like you’d just pointed out the obvious. Which you had, clearly. But it was offensive regardless. 

“I’ve assembled all the ingredients for a Draught of Living Death,” he announced, stepping back from the table and waving one pale hand at the spread in front of you. “You said you had trouble with brewing the base. This makes sense, since more complicated potions require more stable bases. I’m not wrong in assuming that you’ve always been adept at following instructions and brewing perfect potions before this year?”

He waited for your nod to continue.

“N.E.W.T Potions is different in that it challenges your intuition. Before this, you’ve been able to coast by relying on the guidance of others. But with potions like the Living Death, you need to be able to think on your feet. Even the slightest variation in your ingredients—the age, the quality, the place of origin—can be what ruins an otherwise perfectly good brew. Every potions recipe you see in school textbooks makes implicit assumptions about the quality and age of your ingredients. If, say, it’s an unusually hot day when a supply shipment arrives and the gillyweed oxidizes, the instructions for a more difficult potion won’t anticipate that you need to temper it with volcanic salt.

“That’s where you come in. When you’re preparing your base, you need to have an intimate understanding of the properties of each ingredient and how they interact with each other. This way, when you notice something isn’t quite average with your supplies—as is common in a school where ingredients are shipped in bulk—you can adjust.” 

Tom paused, his eyes meeting yours. You blinked once, then broke the contact to look at the cauldron.

No one had ever explained that to you before. No one had ever taken the time. Snape certainly hadn’t been interested in lecturing about why so many students were incapable of  producing viable potions—he was far more content with insulting his pupils for being inadequate. 

“I never knew that,” you admitted, finally looking back at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “That makes so much sense.” 

Though your words were far from creative, honesty dripped from your voice.

“Right then,” said Tom, nodding tightly and stepping back to gesture to the ingredients. “Try to prepare the base again. This time pay attention to the state of the ingredients.”

You got the work, thinly dicing the beetroot while you set the moon water to simmer in the cauldron. 

“This was bruised,” you noted, motioning to the cubes you’d just cut. 

Tom nodded, looking at you rather expectantly. 

“...which means that part of it has already oxidized,” you continued cautiously. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time learning about the different chemical properties of the ingredients. That felt too concretely muggle, too blatantly biological. “Which means that the enzymes have, uh, had their bonds ruptured?”

“And…?” 

“And that means I need to…” You squinted down at the vegetable, trying to conjure up any knowledge you had about enzymes and potion making. It probably wouldn’t be volcanic salt. Would it? “I don’t think that I can use volcanic salt as a binding agent this time. If my memory serves correctly, moon water becomes unstable in the presence of pure minerals. So that means…acid? Lemon?”

Tom slid a vial over to you, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Mix a little into the beetroot before adding it.”

You uncorked it and let the citrus juice sink into the purple cubes, running slightly down the cutting board and pooling in the wooden crevices. 

The rest of your base preparation went just as smoothly, with Tom offering up the odd helpful comment while you nodded and committed it to memory. 

You finished with a base that looked nothing like the disaster you’d created just hours ago. You were just barely able to keep yourself from grinning and throwing your arms around Tom’s neck as you both began to clean up and vanish the contents of the cauldron.

“Well done,” said Tom, spelling the cutting board clean. The vibrant pink marks from the beetroot vanished. “Consider me impressed.”

You nearly exploded with giddiness. 

“Thank you,” you said very normally. He was standing so close to you now that if you reached out, your fingers would skim his robe-clad arm. But you wouldn’t do that, because that was weird. Because he was living in a journal and he was somehow bound to this strange alternative reality. Because you weren’t even sure if it was possible to touch him. Because even if it was, Tom Riddle did not seem like the type of person who would be partial to physical affection—especially not from someone like you. “Do you—have you found anything out about how you can escape?” 

Tom’s fluid motions as he tidied the table only stuttered for a moment. “Some. Nothing concrete, though.”

“If you told me exactly what it was you did to get stuck in here, I’d probably be able to offer a lot more help,” you pointed out in a way that you hoped didn’t sound too cajoling. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“Come on,” you pressed, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ve aired out all my dirty laundry to you. You can tell me. I don’t think there’s anything you could say that I haven’t already guessed.”

“Really?” drawled Tom, his eyes locking on yours. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” you affirmed. 

“So why don’t you tell me what happened?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Men could be so frightfully dull sometimes. 

“There’s a book,” said Tom with a deceptive casualness, “That should be in the Restricted section. It’s called ‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts.’ Read that. If you’d still like to know afterwards, I’ll oblige.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” 

The work table was all cleaned up, no trace of your previous potion brewing except for the lingering scent in the air. 

“Well,” said Tom. His hands were folded neatly behind his back as he remained a respectable distance away from you. “I suppose I should be sending you back.”

“I suppose,” you echoed. “Will I—do you think I’ll get to see you again?”

You regretted it the moment the words left your mouth. Hopefully the blush on your face could be written off by the excuse that you were just brewing. 

This time when he looked at you, it felt like he was re-evaluating something. “Whenever you’d like. I’m not especially occupied.”

Before you could stop yourself, your face was splitting into a bright smile. “Of course. I was definitely asking because of your busy schedule.” 

He blinked twice. Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and fidgeted with his tie. It was the most obvious sign of discomfort you’d seen from him the entire evening. 

“Right,” he said stiffly. “Ehm—yes. It was pleasant to have you here.”

“Pleasant?” you echoed, your eyebrows raised. 

“I mean that I’ve enjoyed the time that we’ve spent in correspondence,” he said, waving a hand like that made what he said any less awkward.

“Tom, I was teasing you,” you said. “I don’t need some sort of confession about how you can actually stand being around me. I can tell.”

“Right,” he said again. “I’ll send you back now.”

Before you could add another remark about how weird he was being, you were catapulted out of the dungeons and back into your desk chair.

“Merlin’s Beard!” gasped Lucy from behind you. 

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the bright lighting of your dorm. 

“You literally came out of nowhere!” said Lucy, coming around to put her hands on your desk and stare at you. “I was getting worried, too. Padma is coming back soon. I thought that I’d have to devise some sort of plan to keep her out of the room so she wouldn’t ask why you materialized out of thin air.”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes unfocused.

“So what happened?” 

“I—” You exhaled. “Lucy, I’m so fucked. He’s actually really cute.” 

“I knew it,” said Lucy, shaking your shoulders. 

“He helped me brew the base for the Draught of Living Death,” you elaborated. “He’s a really good tutor. He spoke for like 5 minutes about the properties of different ingredients, and I swear I’ve learned more from him than from 6 years of Snape’s lectures.”

“And did you guys talk?”

“A little.” You frowned, thinking back on the interactions you’d had. “He was really odd when I asked him about what I needed to do to get him out. Even weirder when I asked if I was going to see him again. He made some comment about how he wasn’t exactly busy and I said something that implied that I knew that but wanted to know if he liked seeing me, and he was super awkward.”

Lucy cringed. “Well, I mean, if I’d been stuck in a diary for 50 years without talking to someone, I’d probably be a little strange too. Tell me how he is when he talks—or writes, I guess—to you next.”

The next time Tom responded to a diary entry, you had news.

Tom you wrote. Are you there?

Yes.

Can you bring me back to you?

Why? Do you need another Potions lesson?

You rolled your eyes. Not quite.

Well, no. I won’t let you back until you’ve read the book I told you about.

That’s why I’m asking! I’ve tried looking for it everywhere. When none of the querying spells worked, I went through the entire Restricted Section by hand. Nothing! I asked Madam Pince and she told me that that book had been banned since before she’d gotten the position as librarian. I’m probably on some watch list now

That is troubling. 

So if you’ll be so kind, please let me back in so I can use your library. Thank you in advance

There was a long pause that you imagined Tom took to sigh and run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. Then:

Very well. 

You were falling through space once again.

final a/n: thank you for reading! let me know how you feel about it! this is my first time writing for tom so im kind of nervous or whatever

[akiswife1237]

AMORALITY

chapter 2

recap: Sukuna's plans go amiss when the priestess he is planning to slaughter puts him in a simp-like trance

Sukuna was snapped back into reality when he suddenly heard you speak up, your voice wavering as you tried your best to smile up at him. 

"H-Hello, Sir... Are you here to visit the church?"

 

You were so scared yet willing to talk to him; usually people would cowar just at the mere sight of him, but here you were, standing your ground without bowing to your feet.

And, Sir? Did you not know who you were talking to? The once cannibalistic man turned curse who was responsible for countless slaughter? The one who was given the title, "the disgraced one" purely because of all the evil he'd done?

Quite frankly, you had no idea who this man was. You kept to yourself most of the time, not interested in the chitchat that was going on in your community, so you never heard of the awful stories people had spread around about the man in front of you.

 

As the duty of a priestess, you had fully opened your heart to whatever walked through your doors, even if they looked a little different from you. 

It took a while for Sukuna to respond- but his scowl slowly transformed into a look of mere disdain as he retreated his arms back to fold over his chest.

"I was merely passing by. I heard of a church that was recently established, but I see it's nothing too spectacular."

His words were harsh, but somehow, that actually eased you. At least he was willing to conversate. Instead of responding with the same energy, you continued to be patient.

"I see, well, the church is always open, feel free to have a look around inside, maybe your opinion could change!"

Sukuna cocked an eyebrow at your optimism. Were you dumb? Letting someone like him into the church? What would the other priestess' think? 

He scoffed as he simply walked past you and entered the church, blinking in surprise when he saw it was empty—save for the decor and altar, but 

Where were the other priestess'? Were you the only one here?

There wasn't much to explore around the church since it was relatively small and soon enough, you came back inside to see Sukuna staring intently at the altar, his face anything but amused.

Well, you couldn't please everyone.

As you tidied up around the seats and aisles, you could still feel Sukuna's eyes watching you like a hawk, though he pretended like he wasn't.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was having a battle in his mind about what to do next. All of his plans had practically been thwarted, and now he just can't seem to take his eyes off of you. Had he been cursed?

 He'd never felt this way before; everything you did, even the smallest things, captivated him greatly. You moved so elegantly as you cleaned, and he couldn't deny that you were attractive.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, his eyes followed your figure as you walked over to place the flowers you planted into their respective pots.

As you picked up the pot, you sighed with frustration when you realized you had to place it back onto the high place it was before.

Sukuna had noticed your pout, and amusement flickered within him when he saw how cute you looked when stumped. 

He blinked in surprise, though, when you turned to him with a small smile- What now?

"Will you help me lift the flowers up top? Your arms look like they can get the job done..~"

You were gentle as you asked this, and Sukuna couldn't help the jump in his heart as you spoke to him once more.

He tried to act indifferent to your request, responding to it with a scoff as he walked closer to you and grabbed the pot.

"Very well, little priestess, I'll lend a hand..~"

"Thank you, big demon~"

You responded wittily with a small giggle and watched as he pushed the pot up onto the high surface.

You pouted when you realized the pot wasn't quite where you wanted it to be, and you gave a sheepish smile to Sukuna, who raised an eyebrow at you.

"Could you move it a little to the left?"

He scoffed; he thought the placement was perfect, but it wasn't his church, so he obliged, moving the pot slightly to the left. 

"Mm... actually, a little more to the right.."

You suddenly mumbled, and Sukunas eye twitched at your indecisiveness. Nevertheless, he still moved the pot to the right.

"Actually, a little more back to the left-"

Sukuna suddenly groaned with annoyance and pushed at the pot. He expected you to get scared of his sudden outburst, but to his surprise, you wore a happy smile as you clasped your hands together.

"That's perfect, thank you so much!"

He was nearly at his limit- maybe he should slaughter you-

Those quick, murderous thoughts soon came to a halt when you suddenly raised your hand and smiled up at him. You were trying to give him a high five, and he scoffed at the mere idea. Though he found it absolutely adorable, he couldn't indulge in this... feeling.

He crossed his arms and simply looked off. You didn't mind the rejection, though and you gasped when you checked the time displayed on the clock above the altar.

"I'll be heading back home now, it was nice meeting you! Feel free to visit anytime!"

The pink haired man glanced back in your direction and simply gave a nod, a small smirk on his face as he decided to tease you.

"We'll see, little priestess~"

You hummed with a smile and a nod before rushing out of the church, leaving Sukuna dumbfounded when he realized he had a fond smile on his face. Just what the fuck was happening to him?

Though he couldn't figure out his emotions, one thing was certain.

He'd most definitely be back tomorrow.

an: chapter two is here aaa! i have a lot planned so stay tuned and ty sm for all the reblogs !!

tags: @getossluttt @scarasluvrr @unknown5029 @koshii-meji @genderfluidnuggettt @sterzin @nyahctrl @gabriiiiiiii

[talonabraxas]

“Walpurgis Night was when, according to the belief of millions of people, the devil was abroad—when the graves were opened and the dead came forth and walked. When all evil things of earth and air and water held revel.” Bram Stoker, “Dracula’s Guest”

“There is a mountain very high and bare…whereon it is given out that witches hold their dance on Walpurgis night.” Jacob Grimm, 1883

In the Germanic countries of central Europe, there is what is essentially a second Halloween, Walpurgis night, or as it’s often referred to in its German form, Walpurgisnacht, falling exactly six months from All Hallow’s Eve, or Samhain.

Many of the ancient cultures divided the year into just two seasons, summer and winter. The dividing line between the two seasons were Beltane and Samhain, with Beltane being one of eight solar Sabbats in the pagan calendar, its date based on the sun.

In Britain, Wales, Scotland and Ireland, Beltane often begins at sunset on April 30 and continues through May day. Since the medieval era at least, it was believed that the veil between the world of the living and dead is thinnest on both the night of Halloween and the night before Beltane.

As a result, not just the ghosts of the dead, but fairies, shapeshifter and in regards to Walpurgis, witches were at their most powerful and could more easily cross between the two worlds.

Walpurgisnacht and Beltane

Despite sharing the same date and many customs, there is a distinct difference between Walpurgis and Beltane. At its most basic, Beltane is primarily Gaelic and celebrated on May 1, whereas Walpurgis is Germanic and often celebrated the night before Beltane. If you were able to go back in time however, you’d realize you’re dealing with rural customs, in areas quite often cut off from much contact with the outside world. From that perspective you’d likely see little difference between the two holidays.

The primary difference between the ancient times and more modern history, is Walpurgis has developed a distinctly witchy flavor. Walpurgis in the Middle Ages concerned itself with protecting yourself from or driving away witches.

Today, as the fear of the craft fades slowly into the past, it’s all about celebrating witches.

“Walpurgis Night” Lavestalu

[luna-writes-stuff]

If I Knew, Nikolai Lantsov

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Hurt/comfort, some angst

Word count: 3405

Tw: I used Y/N like three times (I know, I deserve to go to hell). Mention/descriptions of injuries, losing consciousness, battle and blood. You go into very light shock (fanfic authors aren’t medical professionals!! At least, this one isn’t). Nikolai worries, cries, then worries some more. Naked Nikolai but doN’T GET ANY IDEAS. This is hurt/comfort only.

Summary: A sudden attack on the Volkvolny renders you unconscious, and Nikolai and his group rush to a safe place, doing their best to keep the survivors alive. You wake up in one of your and Nikolai’s shared quarters, and come face to face with Nikolai’s worried state. He’s there to gently help you wake up.

Requested by @notoakay

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Loneliness seems like an evil dream. Reality is life and life is here.”

Mere seconds ago you had on the deck of the Volkvolny, getting your drinks as you talked with the crew members. Only seconds ago you were comfortable and at ease. And then suddenly, you were clutching the balustrades for dear life.

The attack had come out of nowhere. You knew the risk that came with offering the sun summoner transport, but you hadn’t expected the darkling to find her as quickly as he did. The shadows came before you could even see the sky darken. Innocent men and women who you had talked to only minutes prior had fallen torn in parts upon the floor, their dead eyes staring straight into yours.

“Mal!” You heard Alina’s voice carry over the darkness, trying to summon just a little bit of light. Over her voice, you heard Nikolai’s, calling out your name. You remained frozen in place, unable to speak, sheer shock coursing through you. You wanted to shout back at him. Assure him you were fine and that he should stay put. But you couldn’t.

“Once my heart was ruled by emptiness. Harmed because of being too sincere.”

“Y/N!” A second shout bore through the darkness, now closer. A rough jolt rocked through the ship as your back harshly collided with the balustrade you were holding onto. A ragged breath tore through you upon impact, your arm now clinging in an uncomfortable manner.

A gentle hand was laid upon your shoulder, followed by a second one that reached up to your cheek. Turning it slightly, you were faced with Nikolai, concern laced within his eyes. Looking at your hands, he grasped them slowly, untangling them from the balustrade as you let out a hiss.

“I know, darling,” he tried to shush. For a second time, the ship shook heavily, sending Nikolai against the balustrade as well. His arms wound around your waist, clutching to you tightly. One of the darkling’s nichevo’ya swung out to hit the pair of you, only narrowingly avoiding you when a burst of light seared through the air. A loud explosion was heard as the ship suddenly began to turn on its side in the air. Shouts and yells were heard all around you as your hands refused to let go of the fence behind you.

Now dangling above utter darkness, you could hear Nikolai shout commands. More light emanated from the ship as it was turned back, now descending rapidly. You didn’t know if the darkling’s army was still there, or if there even was any other threat lurking around the corner. You were focused on the floor below you, coming closer with every incoming second.

“But now that you've crossed my way. Could it be we found it again?”

Nikolai shifted slightly beside you, still holding onto you as the commands kept flowing from his mouth. The muscles in your arms had nearly atrophied from the amount of pressure you were putting them under. They felt red hot, your hands shaking wildly, almost losing its grip.

Before you could spare a second look to the panicked crew, a final explosion was heard, blowing the ship in half, violently falling to the floor. You braced upon impact, your muscles hardened as you failed to resist the scream tearing from your throat.

A loud ringing was heard in your eyes before you felt your body jolt against the floor. The tension in your muscles snapped suddenly, your arms falling down limply as you let out another shout. The back of your head harshly collided with the balustrade, a dull ache settling in before white spots danced around your vision. A bitter taste filled your mouth as your head fell against Nikolai’s chest. It was only then that you realised he had fallen onto the floor as well.

The last things you recalled was your call for aid, the pain in your limbs and the rough pounding on your head. Then, you collapsed beside him.

“If I knew that I'm your only one I could live and make it through time.”

He had been awake during the entire endeavour. Having had his fair share of accidents, he managed to relax during the fall, limiting his injuries to a handful of bruises, a terrible headache and two potential broken bones.

He had heard your call for aid, and the panic laced within your words. He had tried to assure you, his hands still tightly on your waist, but your full body weight had already fallen on top of him. Initially, it had torn a slight chuckle out of him - a sign of relief. But when you failed to respond to it, he was quickly silenced.

“Darling?” His voice was filled with concern as he slowly lifted his head. “You okay, there?” When you failed to respond yet again, he immediately sat up straight, taking care in handling you accordingly. “Hey, Y/N?”

It was then when he saw you hadn’t been awake to begin with. Your entire body hung limply around him as your head felt heavy against his shoulder. A deep, unnerving feeling entered the pit of his stomach, an inexplicable emptiness suddenly filling him. He felt his heartbeat speed up tremendously as he copied your earlier cries for help. Arms clung to you in a desperate attempt to keep you close, words of reassurance muttered through his pleas, his eyes running from the left over crew to your unconscious figure in his arms.

“But if one day you just be gone I wouldn't know how to ever get by.”

Nikolai considered himself patient most of the time, but the wait for help had felt too long in his eyes. In truth, he had sat there for a handful of seconds, no longer than a minute, but it felt as if he had been waiting for at least half an hour. He didn’t dare move any more than he already had, still unaware of the extent of your injuries.

When a heartrender managed to steady your heartbeat, he should have felt relief. Instead, he just felt dread. Yes, you were alive, but the state of your well-being would remain a question until you woke up. There were people out there who needed him more than ever, but all he could do was stare at you as two healers leaned over you, exchanging hushed whispers and silent gazes. You were stabilised, but how far would that even get you? He had no way of knowing. And the not knowing was what scared him the most.

He was always on top of everything. What could go wrong and what could be done to avoid that? These were questions he offered solutions to daily. Of course he had thought of a possible attack of the darkling, but he hadn’t truly anticipated it. He had tried to run his crew through the whole emergency landing protocol, but through panic, most abandoned logical solutions and resolved to fighting that which could barely be fought.

“How can I make you feel secure? We're both the same, I'm king and you are queen.”

When the army found him and the remainder of his group a couple minutes later, his full attention had been on you. You had to be safe, that was his priority now - sun summoner be damned. The whole trip to safety couldn’t be short enough for him.

When the group had finally found a safe haven, you were transported to your room immediately, the guards followed by four healers, which had already been waiting at the entrance. Anticipation grew heavy in his features as he followed them swiftly.

“Sir, we will need a complete-“ “Not now.” He muttered over his shoulder, not halting his footsteps as Tolya and the captain of the guards ran after him. “Nikolai, do you want me to-“ “Not now.” The prince repeated, stopping quickly to turn around and face the others. “Get everyone cleaned and bandaged up,” he spoke to the captain, then turned to Tolya: “And take over until I’m back. No one leaves or gets out until they have gotten proper permission.” The man nodded back at him, before turning around, his hand on the back of the guard as he forced him to leave with him.

As soon as the two had affirmed their order, Nikolai continued to follow the group of Corporalki, opening the doors to your room for them as they placed you on top of the bed. As they worked on the full extent of your wounds, he paced the floor, his mind racing a thousand miles an hour. His entire childhood he had learned to remain calm under any situation: put on a smile and a wave. No one needs to know the struggles of a prince. But at this exact moment, all of that knowledge had flown out of the window.

“Understand you make me breathe again Tell me all your thoughts and I will see.”

It wasn’t until one of the healers finally rose, wiping a bead of sweat off of her face, when Nikolai stopped. “She will be fine,” The woman spoke, trying to reassure Nikolai. “Her arms need rest and she will have one hell of a headache, but all major injuries have been sustained.” With those words, the other three rose as well, bowing their heads in respect to their prince before walking out of the room.

When he was finally alone, he collapsed onto the empty space in the bed next to you, a heavy sigh escaping him as a shaking hand ran through his hair. “Thank the Saints.” He muttered quietly, leaning forward as his elbows rested on his knees, his head falling in the palm of his hands.

Trying to calm his breathing, his leg bounced, getting rid of all excess energy. A choked sob left him as his head fell deeper. Only now, when all adrenaline had faded, the urgency of the situation had begun to dawn on him. He could have easily lost you had he not found you prior to the fall. Had he not been next to you, your landing would not have been as soft as it had been. He had been prepared, but you hadn’t. You always travelled with him. Why had he not prepared you?

His eyes trailed to your sleeping figure, tears welling up in his eyes as he finally realised the close call. Nearly falling off of the bed, he fell to his knees, his hands finding yours as he rested his head against it, a second sob escaping him.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled against the bruised skin. “I’m so sorry.”

“Take my hands and we'll be there. Together someday somehow.”

He stayed like that until he couldn’t cry anymore. Until all apologies had left him and all he had was exhaustion. Even prior to the fall, it had been a busy day. He remembered standing atop the Volkvolny and awaiting the moment until he could return to his bed and just rest for a while. And now with the adrenaline being gone and the tiring travel he had just gone through, all he really needed was some rest. He could recognize that easily. But he wouldn’t give into it.

If you would wake up and he would be asleep, he wouldn’t forgive himself for that. He had fallen unconscious many times, just to wake up alone in an empty room. It was terrifying: no one to tell you what happened or to comfort you. And he refused to let that happen to you.

So, he sat on the chair beside you, forcing himself to sit upright to make the desire to sleep less appealing. He had tried to read, but his mind wouldn’t allow him. He simply sat there, peeling at the scabs of wounds that had dried blood all around it. He should probably get cleaned. Might be a fresher sight. The bathtub was only a short call away. He could easily hear you if you woke up. It was in the same room to be completely fair. There were two guards outside who would be there if anything were to arise.

He really did not want to leave your sight, but it had become difficult to fight the fatigue in his body. Being submerged in water might be a good method to stay awake. And all the dirt and blood had begun to feel uncomfortable on his skin, almost begging to be removed.

A short moment wouldn’t hurt.

“If I knew that I'm your only one I could live and make it through time.”

Your skin had been cleaned by the healers, thankfully. They had even taken the liberty to change you into fresher clothes, before gently tucking you in. Besides the dull pull on your arms, you had been extremely comfortable. A familiar scent washed over you as you felt the weight of a warm blanket over your figure. You could faintly hear the exchange of people outside your room and the splashing of water. Opposed to your latest memory, this was a pleasant place.

You turned under the blankets, carefully testing your surroundings. A shot of pain soared through you as you tried to use your arms to shift. An involuntary hiss was let out upon the feeling as you peeled your eyes open carefully. Faint light luminated the room, giving you a view of your personal room. The curtains had been drawn shut - the light came from inside.

The more you found yourself waking up, the more you were able to recognize and identify. The splashing hadn’t come from the gardens, it came from the tub. As was the painful groaning of a familiar voice. As you took your time to observe all of it, a harsh pounding was felt against your head, the feeling forcing you to close your eyes again, forgetting everything you had seen seconds prior. Dizziness filled you as brief ringing was heard in your ears.

Blindly trying to reach for your nightstand, where you would usually keep a glass of water and painkillers, the strength in your arm failed, forcing it down as you knocked the empty glass off of the cabinet. You could hear it shatter on the floor, causing you to groan in annoyance and pain, the sounds only amplified.

“But if one day you just be gone I wouldn't know how to ever get by.”

You forced your other arm to cover your eyes, attempting to shield you from even more sensories. You could hear the splashing stop from the other room, before quick, wet footsteps made its way over the floor. A sigh of relief was heard as the bed dipped beside you

“Good morning, darling,” He tried to cheer, gently laying a hand on top of your arm. You let out another groan, this time in recognition. There was silence for a short minute, assumingly to observe the mess on the floor. Then, he spoke up again. “How are you?”

“Head.” You just mumbled, hoping it was enough for him to understand. Having known each other for as long as you had, he thankfully did, rubbing your arm in assurance. “I’m going to get you some water.”

The footsteps faded slightly, water falling apparent from the other side of the room before Nikolai returned. The bed dipped beside you, his leg now resting against yours. “You need to sit up,” He encouraged, placing the new glass on the headboard. His hands carefully slid under your body, lifting your upper half up. You tried to help him, but your arms crumbled underneath your weight. “It’s okay,” Nikolai soothed, noting your struggle. “I got you.”

“I wouldn't know how to ever get by. If I knew that I'm your only one I could live and make it through time.”

Placing himself behind you, he allowed you to rest your back against his chest, his arms underneath your armpits as he held you upright. He reached out to grab the glass from his side of the bed, placing it in yours. Clumsily, he reached over to your side of the bed, grabbing the pain killers. Again, he placed them in your hand.

You recognized the tablets in your hand and was able to lift it just enough to properly take them. The water glass, however, still appeared too heavy, and almost tipped out of your hold. Nikolai’s hand fell under your elbow, keeping it upright as you finally swallowed the pills down. You let out a heavy sigh once they were all gone, handing the cup back to him. As he set it back, you reopened your eyes, scanning the room again. Nikolai’s hands connected with each other around your waist, allowing you to take everything in individually.

“When did we get here?” You finally whispered, turning your head to the side, now able to hear the steady beating off his heart. His chest heaved slightly at the question, a sigh escaping him simultaneously.

“Just today,” He answered. “You were out for a couple of hours.”

You hummed at that, silently grateful that you hadn’t been out for a couple of days. You knew Nikolai worried. You didn’t need him absent from his position for a week. Be that as it may, you were thankful to find traces in the room that pointed to his presence: the three empty cups that had likely contained tea, the pile of books with Nikolai’s bookmarks between them, the dirtied clothes of him haphazardly strewn over the desk chair, the half eaten plate of food. All traces of silent worrying.

“But if one day you just be gone I wouldn't know how to ever get by.”

“You smell nice,” you whispered, not fully comfortable in the quiet ambiance that had begun to grow. A low chuckle reverberated through his chest as he placed a kiss in the crook of your neck. “Well, I was cleaning until someone smashed an expensive glass to the floor.” “‘m sorry,” You apologised half-heartedly, forcing the pounding in your head down. It was only then that you realised Nikolai’s chest had still been damp with the water he had been in previously. He must have left immediately after hearing the glass shatter. The thought of it made heat rise to your cheeks, regardless of the amount of times you had seen him without anything on.

“You should get dressed,” You offered, your voice sluggish as the active part of your brain decided to slow down. “You’re trying to get me to put clothes on?” He put emphasis on ‘on’, the innuendo not going unnoticed by you. You dismissed it.

“I interrupted your bath,” You stated, your eyelids falling shut again. “Yes,” he agreed. “But I was already clean. It was a simple distraction.” “Distraction?” You repeated tiredly.

He was quiet for a while, a lone hum coming from him. You didn’t think you would get much out of him now. Judging by the state of the room, you figure he hadn’t slept either. He must have been exhausted as well.

“I wouldn't know how to ever get by. I wouldn't know how to ever get by.”

“They were working on you for hours,” He then spoke. "I needed to find some distraction or I would combust out of worry.” Though he tried to laugh it off, you recognized the sincerity in his voice.

“‘m sorry,” you apologised again, but - once more - it was dismissed: “Don’t be,” He muttered against the skin on your shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay now.” A silent ‘me too’ escaped you as you nuzzled closer to him, relishing under his touch. His arms left your figure briefly, fiddling with the ends of the blanket as he pulled them to cover him as well. “Would be quite a sight for the guards.” He tried to joke, before returning his hold on you, getting comfortable as well.

“Get some rest,” he urged through a whisper. “You’ll find sleep does wonders.” You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you slowly, painfully turned in his hold, making sure you would wake up without any muscle aches besides those you already held.

“‘Night, Kolya.” You mumbled, your hand lazily finding his as he entwined them together. He held them up to his face as he kissed our knuckles lovingly.

“Goodnight, darling.”

“I would simply break down and cry.”

[lloyd-007]

Summary:

Spider Socorro gets shot instead of Neteyam. But he lives, part 1. @ele-sme from what we were talking about. Also sorry for any miss spelling or grammar.

Spider didn't remember jumping into the sea, one second he was at the bay escaping with Neteyam and Lo'ak when one of the avatars failed his gun towards them, Spider remembers the adrenaline kicking in at the moment when he saw Lyles egg-headed ass firing at his bro- friends his friends. Spider forgot everything in that split second, everything happened so quickly yet so slowly. Spider still feels how his heart tightened when Lyle shot at the with no mercy in his eyes. During the months Spider spent with them in the forest Spider thought that he managed to at least get to know him, the others and his clone dad but now he can see it was all a sick evil lie.

He'd never gotten to know the true them, they had lied to him, just like everyone else. A horrified expression appeared on his face, Spider's eyes widened his mouth shot open as he yelled at them to get out. Then... nothing. Nothing comes to his mind.

Spider was now all alone. Or so he thought.

His mind was very vague but every few minutes he'll catch something, like a glimpse of someone or hear voices- no. Crying. Yes crying. Slowly his mind focused on his surroundings, he was laying down on something hard. It was cold, very cold. Spider swore it felt like spikes. His breathing clenched while his senses came back for just a second. His eyes open a bit. His face instantly became distorted from it.

"SPIDER! Hold on oh shit shit-" he knows that voice, suddenly a massive hand, bigger than his face cradles his head. Spider hissed back in pain due to the action.

"Fuck! They used one of their big guns! NO' Oh fuck-"

More scenes came back at that moment. Someone else was there- no a few more people were there.

" Dad, please tell me he's gonna make it! Oh great Mother oh no". Kiri. That was kiri. Spider looked up at her, his vision clears up enough to see her eyes all teary and scrunched up, her mouth was trembling. Her hand was over his wound trying to stop the bleeding, while another one, Neteyam was there his hands were trembling. His face was nothing like he's ever seen before, his once brother was frantic just like kiri. He was numbing little "nos" to himself while fat tears fell from his eyes which were full of regret. Spider didn't manage to hear much of what he was saying but he did her one thing.

" oh please great mother, I'm sorry I'm sorry for being a bad brother just please don't take him".

"LET ME GO- MAMA LET ME GO!".

He didn't need to look up to see who was yelling he recognises that voice anywhere.

"Lo'ak please-"

"NO, THEY NEED TO PAY LET ME GO- I"

Spider couldn't focus on what he was saying next. His breathing suddenly became faster, more raspy. His eyes shot open, Kiri sprung into action her face leaning down while her hands tried to cover his wound. Neteyam jumped in as well. His hands stroked his left hand. He didn't realise it before but Jake was talking to him. Spider didn't notice him before, he didn't even notice he was right in Infront of him. It was his hand on his cheek, gently stroking it, whispering to him.

"Hay! Look at me! Okay?! Your gonna be alright ! Everything is fine, we're gonna call norm and he'll have you all better in no time and..".

Spider knew he was lying. He watched as Jake struggled to say anything. Jake looked away for a moment, guilt covering his face. Spider felt his breathing tighten at that moment, his eyes were beginning to close them. Spider squeezed Neteyams hands and he squeezed them back.

" I want to go home" was all he could say. Jake looked back at him. His eyes were teary.

"yeah, yeah of course kid. We'll take you home."

Spider didn't remember what happened next when his vision became blurred, his head was spinning, everyone around him became fuzzy, and his world began to turn black. Spider didn't want to go, he didn't want to leave, unfortunately, now he has no choice. As his world slowly crumbles into the dark endless void he looked up past Jakes alert eyes into the sky his ears vaguely picking up what they were saying.

“ Spider!-“

His eyes closed.

me after traumatising Spider again^^

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: Three Is Company

Frodo calling it “Our Birthday” is making me feel things. Oh would you look at the time, it’s Crying About Bilbo and Frodo O’Clock again TT~TT

It’s honestly such a mood that Frodo says to himself “I’m following Bilbo!” so he doesn’t have to think about “I’m carrying a thing of great evil into danger and unseen ends”. Me too, Frodo. Me too.

“And see that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him into a toad.” 🤣

“Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back again; but I go to lose one, and not return, as far as I can see.” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME—

Also “and not to return” is so heartbreaking, especially knowing that by the time he gets to Mordor Frodo is fully expecting to die at the end of his journey TT^TT

“It may be your task to find the Cracks of Doom.” JUST DROP THAT FORESHADOWING RIGHT THERE LIKE IT’S NOTHING, HUH, TOLKIEN??

Also teehee crack

Yes I am a twelve year old boy on the inside, moving on

The local shade towards the Sackville-Bagginses is HYSTERICAL

“Ah yes Merry is looking out for a house for me in Buckland.” INSTANCE #2 OF MERRY BEING ORGANIZATIONALLY GOATED

I’m honestly very impressed by how neatly Tolkien crafted Frodo’s backstory and interwove it into the story. The idea that he’s going back to Buckland where he grew up really does seem credible! None of the hobbits would suspect a thing! I almost have to wonder which came first in Tolkien’s mind, Frodo’s backstory or the fact that he’d need a good excuse to go East. It’s so well-crafted and it makes my writer brain happy.

F in the chat for Folco Boffin; we know your name and nothing else about you

Frodo draining the last of the wine like “lol at least the Sackville-Bagginses won’t get THIS!” is very funny to me

I have said it before, I’ll say it again, Frodo looking in the mirror and going “geez I’ve gotten fat” will NEVER NOT BE FUNNY

“Frodo did not offer [Lobelia] any tea.” I hereby name you Frodo Sassville-Baggins.

Aww, the Gaffer agreed to Sam going to Crickhollow to work for Frodo!

If only he knew just how far he was really going

“…though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia as a neighbour.” o7 for the Gaffer, everybody

And they had tea by themselves and left the dishes for Lobelia 🤣 FRODO SASSVILLE-BAGGINS

“‘Coming, sir!’ came the answer from far within, followed soon by Sam himself, wiping his mouth. He had been saying farewell to the beer-barrel in the cellar.” LOL

Also I can’t blame him, knowing what he’s walking into

“He waved his hand, then turned and (following Bilbo, if he had known it) hurried after Peregrin down the garden-path.” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE—

Frodo, whining: "My bag is so heavy" Sam, lying: "I could carry more, sir!" Pippin: "Oh no you don't, let him suffer"

Honestly the dynamic of this trio is super underrated LOL

I'm honestly not sure whether "well, we all like walking in the dark" is meant to be sarcastic or genuine—the way it's repeated later on makes me think it's genuine, but I can't be sure—so just to be safe I'm bringing the Frodo Sassville-Baggins score up to 2.5

I'm taking the time to read the walking bits slowly now, and honestly, the way Tolkien describes the countryside of the Shire is so beautiful. I want to go there, and I want to walk there, and I want to see what the hobbits are seeing. Every little piece of nature and topography elicits an emotion; from the enclosed safety of Hobbiton, cradled in its cozy little valley, to the great fir tree standing guard over the hobbits as they sleep, to the road winding endlessly on before them, promising still more work and beautiful scenery and adventures to come. Is this slow reading? Yes. But I love it so much.

Frodo wakes up and the first thing he does is grumble to himself about his back and neck. He really is an old man. I love him.

Honestly this entire scene is comedy gold

Frodo: "Wake up, hobbits! It's a beautiful morning." Pippin, a literal teenager: "What's so beautiful about it?" ROFLOL

Pippin, literally out in the middle of nowhere: "Sam, draw a bath!"

And for that, Frodo steals his blankets and makes him roll over. Frodo Sassville-Baggins score: 3.5

Pippin: "Water! Where's the water?" Frodo: "I don't keep water in my pockets!" SASSVILLE-BAGGINS SCORE: 4.5

And then he makes Pippin come get the water with him, since he wants it so badly. I love Exasperated Older Sibling Frodo and I wish we got to see so much more of it.

Pippin, after Frodo randomly bursts into poetry: "Wow, was that Bilbo's poetry, or yours? It's kind of a downer."

I'm so glad they kept the "it's dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door" line in the movies, because it really is so good.

Sam's canonically good hearing returns!

Frodo suggesting they prank Gandalf for being late is honestly so cute lol

Twice in this chapter we get the eucatastrophe of Frodo just barely not putting on the Ring, right at the last second. The first time, the Black Rider just walks off on his own, and the second time the Elves show up and scare him off. I will praise Frodo's virtues 'till Spring turns into Winter, but I think this is clear evidence right from the beginning that Frodo was not, and could not, be saved from the temptation of the Ring by any virtue of his own. He is saved; he does not save himself. All of which is honestly very Christian of Tolkien.

Pippin, to Frodo: "All right, keep your secrets!"

I love the walking song. I might do a revised recording of it, if you guys will tolerate my singing voice again X-D

Can we just acknowledge how bad*ss it is that Frodo sneaks up and spies on a Black Rider, just out of curiosity?? Like, I know this is more a feat of stupidity than it is of courage, but given everything we know about them by the end of the book, that is honestly WICKED cool.

Sam, having to be dragged back by his arms: "ELVES! ELVES!"

GILDOR!!

GILDOR MY UNDERRATED BESTIE

I can't wait to draw Gildor. He's gonna be so PRETTY

"But we have no need of other company, and hobbits are so dull" is so funny tho

The Elves, with all the love in their hearts: "You can't sit with us, you're boring!"

FINROD MY MAN

I have not read the Silmarillion, but I know enough about it to know that Finrod is the G.O.A.T.

The Elves: "You're being followed by Black Riders?? Okay you're coming with us now"

Frodo speaking the High-elven tongue like a NERD

I love him

And Gildor immediately like "LOL y'all watch your language, the babies can understand us!" I love him dearly

....Okay wait I have a thought about the hobbits walking with the elves until they nearly fall asleep on their feet. A thought about soldiers and Tolkien's experience in war. Wait. I'm gonna have to make a post about this.

Eyyyy it's the Turin constellation!

Something about the Elven hall did indeed become a core memory for young Lady Glasses. I spent quite a few years building a fantasy world that would capture that sense of mysticism and wonder. Just like Sam and Pippin, I never really remembered the details, but the emotion stuck with me, and it enchanted my imagination.

The Elves bringing out a Thanksgiving feast and saying "sorry we don't have better food" is like going over to your friend's immaculately cleaned house and them saying "sorry for the mess"

Frodo speaking the Elves' language and charming them all is so cute

Sam falling asleep at Frodo's feet as he talks to Gildor is SO CUTE

“At last Frodo asked the question that was nearest to his heart: ‘Tell me, Gildor, have ever you seen Bilbo since he left us?’” OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT—

"My faithful Sam" UGH THE FEELS

Gildor: "But it is said: 'Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.'" Frodo: "And it is also said, 'Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes.'" HAHAHA GETTIM FRODO

SASSVILLE-BAGGINS SCORE: 5.5

Gildor saying "you don't need to understand the Black Riders, just stay away from them" is honestly very Christian of Tolkien too. The best spiritual warfare advice I've ever heard is "don't try to understand demons; just get as close to your Protector".

Anyway Gildor complimenting Frodo is very cute and that is all

[becca-e-barnes]

Sub!bucky is so needy for you after you denied his orgasm a few days (he is so whiny 😩🥵)

And at night he’s having a wet dream of you and he doesn’t know that’s part of you evil plan… while he grinds his clothed dick at your palm you whisper some sexy things in his ears. When he cums he wakes up and you made his look like he was not your good boy 🥵🥵🥵🥵

I've actually been thinking about something similar recently! I just really love subby men eugh 🤤

I like to think you could make it a little more intense though because I prefer to imagine that you've been making him edge for a few days. You don't let him edge inside you, you both know he'd struggle too much. Instead, you lube up your hand and stroke him for hours, letting him fuck your fist until he's dribbled so much precum over you, your hand is unbearably slick and then you kiss his forehead before you tuck his aching cock back into his underwear.

No matter how much he whines and begs and pleads to be allowed to cum, you don't give in. He's not just being denied his orgasm, he's being worked towards it until he's right on the edge and then you give him absolutely nothing. Repeatedly. It's torture but fuck, he gets off on knowing his dick is yours. He doesn't cum without your permission. You completely own him.

He breaks after the sixth night of being relentlessly edged. You'd stroked his cock nice and slowly for hours that day, swirling your tongue over his tip and reminding him that he's the best boy. He was practically shaking by the time you both made it to bed.

His little whine of "Oh fuck, please." was the first thing you remember hearing when you woke up, quickly followed by "O-oh, oh yes."

At first you thought he must be touching himself; giving in to his own slutty thoughts when he thought you wouldn't find out.

As your sleepy brain slowly wakes up, you realise he's grinding against you, rubbing his throbbing cock against your bare ass, gripping your hips like there's no tomorrow. "Gonna cum. F-fuck, gonna cum." He's frantic, his head tucked in against your neck, his breath hot and erratic against your skin.

You can't have that. Absolutely not. You shuffle away from him, determined not to let him have what he needs and the second the contact between your bodies is broken, you hear him whine pathetically.

"Did you really think that would work out for you?" You tease quietly, turning to face him but that's when you realise his eyes are still closed. His brow is furrowed, very clearly still asleep.

You can't help but pity him. He's so desperate to cum, he's grinding against you in his sleep. He's done his very best to do as he's told but his body can't take it. He's been the best boy for you all week. The least you could do is grant him a little relief.

"You're such a good boy, Bucky." You whisper, pressing him gently onto his back, grasping his cock and letting the tip glide between your slick folds. Nothing feels better than this. You've missed it more than you thought you would this week.

"Such a pretty little slut." You line his tip up with your entrance and ever so slowly lower yourself down. "You're a mindless little fuck toy for me when you're like this. So horny, you can hardly even think straight. You've been like a needy fucking puppy for me all week. You just let your dick think for you, isn't that right? You know I could tell when you were zoning out and daydreaming about fucking me? You're so cute."

As you start to really fuck yourself on him, Bucky seems to moan himself awake.

"Please." He begs, and it sounds so pretty when he says it. "Please, I'm so close. I'm gonna cum. I can't cum inside you. There's gonna be so much."

"Oh sweetheart, that's what I want. I want you to fill me. Stuff my cunt full of cum. I thought I told you how badly I want a baby."

[divine0rdainment]

I feel like we are missing out on the potential of Yandere Eden Adam x Angel Lucifer

Because, imagine Adam being born and the first angel he sees, (outside of Sera) is this cute little angel with a beautiful singing voice sitting by a pond playing with the ducks on his time off of being an angel and Adam becomes obsessed at first site. Cuz it's the beauty of a pure innocence and power Infront of him. At first he just wants friendship, cuz that's all he understands before Lilith is born, he emotionally manipulate Lucifer in to coming back every day even tho he knows it could get Lucifer in trouble. He will cry if he's gone for too long, he will get grumpy and not talk to Lucifer if he hears Lucifer is spending time with other angels. He will hold on to Lucifer a bit too tight when he comes back and sniff his hair cuz he smells like nothing Adam has ever smelled in the garden. Lucifer calls it stardust. Adam calls it perfection.

And yeah, what Adam is doing is creepy and a bit weird, but Lucifer doesn't mind it! He just assumes that's how humans are supposed to act. After all, Adam is the first of his kind! He's just lonely and humans were ment to be social creatures according to Michael. He's lonely when Lucifer isn't there, ofcourse he's desperate to have someone there. It's his natural instinct.

Things change, however, when Sera comes and asks Adam what he would like in a wife. And of course Adam basicly describes Lucifer. Sera does notice but assumes it's fine because Lucifer and Michael's and quite a few other angels have blond hair, white skin, and blue eyes. It's probebly just something Adams seen on the angels and it looks very different from himself so he found it pretty on people. So Sera brings this info to the angels in charge of making Lilith, and they get to work. When Lilith is actually introduced, Adam is... Disappointed to say the least. And soon easily infuriated when Lilith and Lucifer meet. Lucifer is his angel after all, NOT Liliths.

So his rage grows slowly as he watches Lilith and Lucifer get closer. Lilith is smarter then Adam, figured things out faster, is more empathetic, she makes friends with the animals easier, she keeps TOUCHING LUCIFERS HAIR without asking! And Lucifer doesn't even CARE!!

Yeah, he's not ok with this, infact, he's far from ok with this. So he starts thinking about ways to get Lucifer alone, ways of chasing Lilith off with arguments before Lucifer even gets to Eden on his time off. He even went so far as pushing Lilith in a river on "accident" just to make sure she was gone by the time Lucifer gets back. The day he did that however got the angels involved. He had tried to HURT the other human, and Lilith was now scared of him, and worst of all, Lucifer was being blamed for interfering in the twos bonding. So now, Lucifer was grounded in heaven, and Adam and Lilith are being watched very intently by Michael, who, in Adams opinion, was an uglier version of Lucifer at best. So of course he had no care in dealing with him or his 'wife'.

Adam avoided them both for a bit, missing Lucifer, missing his laugh and his touch. He wanted Lucifer to be his wife. He wanted to hold him and kiss him like the expected him to do with Lilith. But how?! How could he get Lucifer back...

As he contemplated this he stumbled across a tree with a golden fence around it, and as Adam looks up, he's reminded of something he was told on his first day of breath... Do not touch the apples of knowledge... Knowlege, isn't that how you get smarter? Like Lilith? If he ate one, could he be smart enough to get Lucifer back and be with him instead.

So, of course, he takes an apple, and right before Michael could stop him, took a bite.

Eden broke that day, Michael quickly grabbed both humans as darkness descended upon the garden, releasing true evil in to the universe, but Adam didn't seem to care, or was even scared like Lilith. His mind filled with knowledge of how to get what he wanted

When the humans were brought to heaven as Eden is consumed, Lucifer and the other angels come to see the damage. Only for Lucifer to be grabbed by Adam as the angels are freaking out. He's easily dragged off by Adam in to the deeper parts of heaven where no other angels where. Lucifer is trying to talk to Adam, figure out what is happening, get an explanation for why the garden was crumbling, but Adam didn't answer any of the questions, too focused on making sure Lucifer would be corrupted, be ruined beyond what heaven could handle. If he mated with a human, he knew he and Lucifer would fall together... And that's exactly what happens. He dragged Lucifer somewhere alone, confessed his feelings and pushed Lucifer to take his first time. Lucifer, confused, but enraptured by the humans desire, dreams of freedom with Lucifer by his side, and his clear undying love, gave in to his demands. Lucifer sinned, Adam sinned, and by the time they were found, it was already too late. And once again, Lucifer was blamed for the humans didn't know better, and Lucifer should have...

The worst part is, Lucifer didn't notice how Adams eyes changed from the beautiful amber to a dark brown that resembled a void...

((I may make a part two of this later UvU for now, I have stuff to do~))

[ladyelissarose]

——————— ☠️

“*gasps*!”

Panting heavily you looked around you hesitantly, terrified at the thought that you were back in the dark dungeon in Moscow.

The place where the evil soldiers held you in for days and tortured you none stop for hours on end. Scars littered on your skin everywhere, and it angered you knowing they were the markings of them- the beasts.

Now your chest heaves as your clawing for air, desperate to get that deep breath to calm you down or settle your racing heart beat. Chills ran up your spine as awful memories swarmed in your head, it made you want to vomit it all out till it was gone and forgotten.

This has been happening very often, ever since the attack, and the cause of this erratic behavior at night...

Nightmares.

Vivid dreams of your worst days and nights, you could almost feel it all happening again while you laid in your cot, eyes shut.

Tonight was no better, the screams you let out in your dream took your breath away enough to the point you gasped for air- waking up from it. Tears dared to prickle in your eyes as you calmed a bit down and realized it would be the 12th night in a row with no good sleep.

Restless and scared you slowly sat up and took in your surroundings, mentally telling yourself that you were safe and back at the base, with your team- the 141.

You could see the blanket Soap gave you laying at you feet, turning your head to the little table beside your bed you saw Gaz’s cap that he had gifted you, and the tactical gloves Köing had also given up for you. You let out a breath of relief as you knew you were in your room- ‘your’ room.

While you swung your feet to dangle off the edge of your cot, your eyes caught the black slippers Price had let you keep after you kept taking them to wear on colder days since he never wore them, and on the corner of your bed, laid Ghost‘s large black hoodie that he lent you for one day but in the end told you to keep it when he saw it suit you well and that you liked it very much.

These things were clear evidence that you were back at base, safe and sound. But you felt like you needed more- you needed to see them or at least one of them?

Maybe Soap or Gaz? Those two were always up for conversation or helping you feel better. Köing was also good company, his sweet accent kept you interested on trying to catch up with his mother language that sometimes slipped out.

Price- can’t go wrong with the Captain, he was a teddy bear at heart and had the most comforting smile and words to say.

And Ghost.. his silence was comforting and comfortable to tolerate, but right now you needed to feel and hear something more than such right now.

It took a while to shake the creeps off of you, and much convincing to yourself that there weren’t any traps on the floor, or that your mind wasn’t tricking you into thinking you weren’t really home.

Finally, after much minutes and reassuring, you slowly walked out of your room, and looked around for any signs of an awakened solider, clutching your hoodie to your body closer as your frowned,

‘Why can’t someone be up? All the lights are off..’

Pitch black covered the hallways. From one end to the other... everyone must be asleep at once for once. It made you feel lonely and lost for a moment, but tonight you had to try and be strong, make it out on your own, maybe you’ll find something good in the end?

So with all the confidence you could muster, you headed for the little kitchenette that was on the farther end, perhaps you could make a warm tea or find a little snack. Köing always had something good laying around for someone to taste.

You felt tense while taking baby steps, as if you were in a minefield, heart hesitant to pull you to make the next move, like if there was danger on every corner and edge in the hall.

After walking across the hall so slowly, you finally made it passed the ‘no man’s land’ and padded your feet into the kitchen. Sighing in relief and a sense of pride that you made it on your own.

Thoughts about probably being the only one up vanished, when you saw the kettle up on the tiny stove, smoke still slowly coming out, but you replaced your thoughts right away,

‘Might’ve gotten a quick drink and went to their room, I should serve my self a bit-‘

“Sergea-“

You jumped at the unexpected deep British accent calling out to you from behind,

“Oh God-“

Crash!!

“*gasp*agh!!”

The cost of that was you dropping your served tea cup and letting it crash and break by your feet, hence burning you a bit with the hot tea spilling out and all over.

Immediately you ducked down to pick up the glass, breath picking up at the burning sensation in your foot, and at the mess you had made all over.

‘How could I be so fidgety and stupid?’

Simon felt immensely guilty at what his stupid voice did to you, he should’ve made himself known from the moment he saw you, or at least approached you differently and while you were empty handed. He watched for the first few seconds still unable to necessarily grasp the situation, until you moved a bit in the dark and stepped on a scattered piece of glass.

“Ow ow ow!- oof!!”

Unexpectedly Simon had somehow made his way to you without being seen or heard by you until you felt his large hands grasp at your sides firmly yet gently, picking you up and settling you on the counter. You choked up on your words as he calmly commanded,

“Don’t move Sergeant.”

You sat quiet and still on command, eyes growing watery while you nibbled on your finger, unsure of what to do as you were worried you’d probably set off another mistake. Fear still crawled on your skin from the feet up, and of course your foot still had an awful sting to it, causing your head to start to pound.

But a cool touch met your poor foot, along with a warm hold to your ankle, Simon had gotten a hold of it.

“Hold still.”

Another soft command, and again you listened attentively, watching him move to take out the piece of glass in your heel, holding your knee down to stop bouncing it in nervousness. You locked eyes with him for a brief moment as he muttered,

“hold still.. it’s gonna be alright.”

You nodded at his words, still unable to speak, but it was enough for Simon, he understood you. When you watched him make the move this time to take it out, you planted your hand on his that rested on your knee, and sucked in a deep breath.

You’ve literally been shot before and Simon’s seen you walk miles like that and not breaking down, so seeing you being a little extra shaky, made him be extra gentle and sorta communicative, even if it was unlike him.

“It’s almost out, a very small piece it is.”

Eyes on his hand like a hawk you waited, though your mind slowed down on running thoughts as you heard his little comments and praises,

“Just breathe slowly, it’s ok.”

“Mmm.. I like this... this nail polish, grey suits your foot.”

“I’m not foot fetish.. but you got some nice ones Sergeant- oh.. its out, let me wrap it up. Hold on.”

You didn’t even feel when he had pinched your heel to take out the rather large piece of glass (the one he called ‘tiny’). He had successfully distracted you from the pain and your thoughts.

Watching his broad back walk away for a moment left you alone, the memories flooding back faster than you wanted. Breathing picking up fast as well as your imaginative mind with thoughts and nightmares.

‘You’re alone.. they’re coming for you. And you can’t move- how do I move? where do I go?? what do I do? I need a knife- where my gun why isn’t on me!?! The blood-‘

“Sergeant-“

“LET ME GO- please!! Ugh!-“

Simon had already wrapped your foot and had been calling you to snap out of it. But he could imagine your head spiraling while he saw your eyes looking around erratically and you mindlessly reaching for the knife behind you in the kitchen set.

That had him reaching for your arms and shaking you awake, hence your crazy reaction as your continued crying,

“Please- agh!! Let me-“

Leaning his legs onto yours to stop them moving and grabbing both your hands into one of his, he used his free hand to grab your face and hold it up, to see him as he spoke harshly,

“It’s Simon! Simon Riley. You’re back at base with the 141. You are a Sergeant here and are safe.. you’re safe.”

Like a switch you snapped awake, or back to reality, and when your eyes came to a focus you saw the infamous balaclava before you, and the warmest brown eyes behind them. A strong grip was still on your face, but through squished cheeks you mumbled,

“Lieutenant Simon?”

Simon sighed, his gaze no longer tense as it softened, as well as his hold on you, glad to see you back on earth,

“Yeah... it’s me Sergeant.”

Knowing your Lieutenant Simon Riley was the toughest and deadliest man out there, would probably scare you, but since you were on his good side, he was in your team and led you, you felt immensely safe.

Without second thought, you threw your arms around him, your hands far away from one another as his wide back made him bigger compared to you. But nonetheless you cradled him as close as possible, unwilling to let him go.

Shock was written on Simon’s face as he watched and felt you hold him tighter and snuggle your head close to his chest, breathing him in. His arms were in mid air around you, unsure of what to do.

He wasn’t used to affection, as he had never gotten it. Had it been anyone else he would’ve immediately pushed them away, but with you? How could he.. when he felt the desperation for love and peace seep out of you, hoping to find it in his broken arms and scarred self.

Whatever good he had left in him, you happened to only see that, while all the bad he had ever done was unknown to you- as you had refused to see him that way.

He felt your rapid breathing go down to a much normal pace, and your hands loosening their hold on him. Maybe you were ready to let him go- perhaps because he hadn’t reciprocated the hug.

It made him feel a tad awful, he couldn’t take those seconds back to hug you in the beginning, but when he heard you take a short deep breath, and sink into him with dead weight, Simon came to realize you had actually passed out.

“oh Sergeant...”

Redeeming himself from the first time, he this time took his chance to be vulnerable, and hug you back, his large arms encircling around your tiny frame, bringing you close to his chest, even letting himself go so far to be like his mother, and kiss the top of your head through his mask softly while whispering his mother’s words,

“Such a sweet angel.. you don’t deserve this, but you’re a strong one.”

When you didn’t flinch or move at his tight grip on you, Simon decided to carry you out to bed, the hard counter must not be very comfortable, although your exhausted self didn’t probably care... but he did.

Taking a deep breath and telling himself he got this, Simon picked you up rapidly and at your first shift he was quick to utter,

“Shh shh.. it’s ok, lay your head here.”

Holding up your bottom he used his other hand to lay your head down on his shoulder now, sleepily you snuggled into his neck and let your hands curl up against you, legs dangling under you as he began to walk out.

(It didn’t matter how big or small you thought of yourself, Simon was always bigger than you)

Now it was his turn to walk through the minefield, all to make sure he didn’t trip on some random object- or god forbid his own feet or shadow! More than anything he wanted to get to your room safely, make it his mission to get you under your covers unshaken.

You’ve been through enough hell already, why have you suffering more when he could give you peace, comfort?

He knew it wasn’t his best trait, being kind and all, but he’d spare to leave Ghost out of the picture and be the best Simon he could be, as long as that meant you were happy.

Ever so gently he placed you back on your little bed, sighing in relief that he had actually carried through with this mission and succeeded. It made his heart grow warm at the sight of you curling up into the fluffy blanket he had draped over you, he almost swore he saw your lip curl up softly.

Simon scratched his neck and stood to his full height, looked around your little room seeing you didn’t have much, yet with the little you had it was enough to show him all about you.

From the small stack of books you owned that were originally Price’s, the tiniest plush cow Gaz gifted you on your window seal, the broken frame with the picture of the whole team you snapped with Soap’s Polaroid, the skull mask Simon had given you when you all were in ‘Ghost Team’ mode, and other items from the team... you had seen them as family and home, you treasured what little you had from them.

Simon was about to turn around and walk out, leaving you to sleep so he can perhaps grab some shut eye too- though he knew he couldn’t sleep, but at least rest- but the smallest tug on his hoodie’s sleeve had him looking back at you with wide eyes. He thought you were asleep.

“Please stay LT...”

The softest whimper coming from your lips was barely heard, but listened to by Simon as he didn’t hesitate to reply,

“of course.”

You didn’t have a chair in your room, so he decided to perhaps stand by your bed, watch over you like a guardian angel until you fully knocked out, but seeing you move to one end of the bed and gently patting the free spot, showed him you wanted him close.

“righ’ here Ghos’..”

Simon was a bit dazed for a moment, before you tugged on him again, so he took your offer and sat on the bed, leaning against the back wall and planted his feet on the bed after he took off his boots.

Your forehead found his thigh as you cuddled close to his leg, your hand resting on it as your breathing immediately turned soft and deep, you had fallen back asleep.

At seeing this, Simon laid his hand on your head and caressed it gently, while he used his other hand to wrap around his waist, resting it on his knife’s pocket, ready for attack at any moment, he was a prepared soldier that way.

Knowing you were safe, as much as he was in that moment, it gave Simon the confidence to shut his eyes, and maybe doze off. And soon he felt his body sink deeper into the bed and his back resting against the wall more, his head eventually laid back as he too had finally knocked out.

And for once, you two had a good nights rest, it was perhaps short... but it made up for all the restless nights you both had encountered on your own.

Without saying it or admitting it somehow, you both knew, that you, the Sergeant was the little lamb, and Simon the Lieutenant, was the lion.