#i have no idea how that warrants this response though

[naomis-daydream]

the panther’s prey // shuri udaku

summary: an argument has you questioning your relationship with shuri. due to your uncertainty and her duties as black panther, it’s been nearly two weeks since you two have spoken, but the Panther must make it known that she will not be ignored.

warnings: predator/prey aspects, oral and strap-on (reader receiving bc shuri’s a munch), scissoring, overstimulation, praise, and degradation if you squint.

a/n: i was gonna publish fluff…idk how we got here. again, i’m still new to writing smut so please be gentle. started as a short idea, lord this took so long to finish so show her love!

translations: ewe - yes, sana/sthandwa- baby, nkosazana- princess.

✧

The soft patter of the rain meeting your living room window matched with the low lighting from numerous lamps completed the relaxed ambiance of your apartment.

You were sitting on your couch, eyes glued to your laptop as your fingers typed almost subconsciously against the keys. You were trying to finish some notes so you could actually enjoy your weekend, wanting to spend your Friday night doing something other than work, but alas, here you were.

You took a sip of your tea, the liquid sending a comforting warmth down your throat. As you set the mug down on a coaster, turning back to your work, a rustle coming from your balcony causes you to jump slightly.

You sighed, hand over your heart to relax your nerves. You’d been really anxious since the attack on Wakanda, and though it’s been over a year since it’s occurrence, even the slightest thing out of the ordinary sparked caution.

You chalk it up to the winds, the Wakandan breeze having been particularly strong in recent weeks. When you attempt to go back to your work, another noise, closer, draws your eyes back to the door.

You lived on the fifth floor of your complex, so your suspicions about someone creeping along your deck weren’t too high. Nonetheless, you rose from your curled position slowly, inching towards the door. You flick the switch to turn on the balcony light, peeking through the shades. Seeing as no one a visibly outside, you sigh deeply before swinging it open, just to make sure. You quickly scan the area, your heart rate relaxing when you’re met with nothing but your outdoor furniture and a light breeze flowing through your hair.

You shut the door, locking it behind you before turning around. The small sense of security you regained left in a mere second when you’re met with a suit-clad figure standing a few yards away from you by the couch.

You jump back, hitting the door slightly with a hand on your chest as you gasp. One would think this reaction would warrant an explanation, a response, something from the woman across from you, yet she stood still, her gaze still felt underneath the metallic mask.

“Shuri,” you breathed, eyes widened in surprise.

The taller girl lifted her chin in acknowledgment, eyes still peering into you. You both stood there for a beat, seemingly waiting on the other to say something. Once you realized the small tilt of her head was the only response she’d give you, another set of words stumbled out of you.

“What are you…H-how did you-?” you uttered, looking from the door back to her frame.

Silence. Again.

The slight fear in your tone from her unannounced visit didn’t go unnoticed by her majesty. You exhale deeply, the frustration from her wordlessness causing you to drag a hand down your face.

“Look, you can’t just break in here and…”

“I’m not breaking anything.” she says finally, voice low and deep.

You scoff shortly. “Oh, so she speaks.”

The static between you two returns once more as you stand stoically waiting for a response. Again, you’re the one to break it. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to go ghost—well kinda, but I just…needed to think things through myself. Figure out what I want, what I need.”

“And it took you two weeks to figure out if I’m a want or a need?” She asked, retracting her helmet while taking a two steps towards you.

“That’s not what I meant, you know that.” you reply while shaking your head. “But that doesn’t warrant you showing up like this. If you wanted to talk, why not use your beads like a sane person?”

“Who said I came here talk?”

Your mouth closes as you swallow under her gaze, choosing to look at your kitchen cabinets rather that her hypnotizing eyes. “If you think you’re gonna seduce me after practically ignoring me for weeks, and not even reaching out to me when I left, you’re mistaken,” you reply, turning your head back to her.

“That’s what this is about?” She cocks her head to the right slightly, continuing to stalk closer, “I don’t give you enough attention, so you run away, knowing I’d follow?”

The roll of your eyes brings a smirk to her lips as she watches you fold your arms across your midriff, seemingly putting a barrier between yourself and her.

“Though you always loved the chase, didn’t you?”

You keep your eyes locked with hers as she continues, walking towards your hallway. “Let’s see if you enjoy running this time.”

That’s the last thing she said before her frame disappeared into your hallway, leaving you open-mouthed and alone in your living room as you contemplated what the hell she was doing.

“Shuri, I’m not playing these games,” you shouted, voice echoing in the absence of her response.

Your voice is the only one heard as you walk through the hallway, passing the threshold of the room she undeniably went to.

“Seriously, Shuri, stop messing around.” You call, walking to the center of the room, standing in front of your bed while looking around.

“But we haven’t had any fun yet, sana,” she whispers in your ear, causing you to jump for what seems like the fifth time tonight as she emerges soundlessly behind you.

You whip your body to face her, backing up slightly when your lips almost touch. She smiled feverishly, obviously amused by her antics and the reactions they draw out of you.

“Stop doing that.” You push at her shoulders. “If you’re just here to toy with me, you can go back to your precious lab.”

Your words make her step closer, you step back as she speaks. “Oh, I haven’t even began to toy with you, my love.”

Your brows furrow as she continues, her words matching her actions, strong and tantalizing. “You know what I think?” she begins, “I think you want me to stay.”

Your breath hitches as you step back further, the back of your knees buckling as they hit the bed’s edge.

“I think you want me to make up for the all attention I’ve been so neglectful in giving to you.” Shuri says lowly, voice soft yet stern as she rests her hands on either side of you. “Hm?”

This time, it was you who was silent, choosing to scan her face rather than utter a no doubt shaky reply. Her eyes were dark and inviting, irises so warm and enticing that it drew you into her, leaning forward ever so slightly. Her lips were parted as her warm breath tickled your skin, making you shiver. Shuri smiles as she studies you, the way you watch her every move. The sinful glint in her eyes only grows as she lowers herself in front of you, knees connecting with the wooden floor.

She sighs in feigned indifference. “You know, I’ve always known your body better than you do,” she begins, massaging your thighs intently. “As much as you attempt to be dishonest with me, she can’t,” she breathes, eyes dropping to your core.

The thumping in your chest is so apparent you feel it in your ears, embarrassment clouding your thoughts as you’re sure she senses it too.

The panther chuckles at your state, your racing heartbeat only amplifying her hunger to claim you as hers. She wants to take her time, to go slow, make you feel every inch of her desire for you, but she couldn’t fight the primal urge to absolutely ruin you.

She flexes her right hand, her claws emerging from her suit with a sharp noise. A gasp escapes as she leans over you, prompting you to lay down. Shuri props herself up with one hand beside your torso, the other dragging lightly over your leggings with enough force that the cool metal is felt against your skin, but not puncturing.

She kisses your collarbone gently, words breathed into your skin as she speaks. “We have a little disagreement, and you leave me. Running away like a child.”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips as you feel the claw of her index finger disrupt the seam on the side of your leg, running down from your hip to your ankle, the noise filling the room. She continues to mark you, nipping and sucking at your neck as she speaks.

“You think you’d find someone else to spoil you like I do, nkosazana, hm? Is that what it is?” she continues, repeating her previous action on your other leg. “I fail to attend to you for a few days and you go to find someone new?”

Your quickened breaths are the only response she gets from you, much to her dismay. “So quiet now, my love,” She taunts, standing to pull the ripped leggings off your body. “Let’s fix that, yeah?”

Your body ached for her, you’re sure she could tell by the way you lifted your hips to help remove the pesky fabric, even more so by the visible wet patch on the crotch of your underwear.

Laughter vibrates through the young monarch. She could tell you want her just as much as she wants you, but she still senses the hesitance in your obedience. Usually by now, you’d be begging her to touch you, and though your reaction was slightly unexpected, Shuri had a plethora of ways of opening you up.

You hold eye contact with her as she lowers to a kneel once more, retracting her claws before pulling your thighs to the bed’s edge as she smiles up at you.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. You knew it was inevitable that Shuri would come to you, look at you with those pretty little eyes, say those pretty little words that’d make you fall back in her embrace with little fight. You hoped it’d be different this time, that you’d get her to admit her wrongs before getting her in your pants, put up a little fight, just to show you could. Though the willpower you thought you had was clearly terrible as she hooks two fingers around your panties and pulls them down your silky legs.

“Fuck, sthandwa,” she breaths, taking in your soaked cunt. “All this for me?”

You don’t respond, a pitiful attempt at holding on to the little control you had over her—denying her your praise. Shuri noticed the chokehold your grip had on the sheets, wrinkling the fabric as to resist touching her.

Her finger trails lightly down your slit, brushing over your clit as a soft whimper leaves your throat. “There she is,” the panther purrs, locking your thighs in the crook of her elbows.

Shuri kisses up your thighs, stoping ever so often to nip at the pillowy skin. “You gonna stop fighting me, love? Let me give this pussy the attention she deserves?”

Her words make the pounding at your core intensify, aching to be taken care of. Like she heard your body’s monologue, she licked a long stripe up your entrance, eliciting a sharp inhale from you as she licked her lips at the taste.

Progress.

“I know you’re mad at me,” she begins, looking up at you with feigned innocent eyes, “but why punish her for my actions? Let me make it up to you both.”

You sigh hazily at her words, her mouth so close to where you needed her. Though you knew she wouldn’t continue unless you said it, gave her the satisfaction of verbalizing your need for her.

“Say it.” She whispers. “Say it and I’ll give you everything you desire, everything I have…I just need to hear you say it.”

“Panther…” you whisper. “Take me.”

That’s all she needs to lower her head to the heaven between your thighs. She swirls her tongue around your clit, moaning as she sucks gently.

“Bast!” you cry, throwing your head back with eyes glued shut.

Any attempt at hiding your need for her was long gone now. Shuri flicked her tongue rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves, admiring the way your legs clamped over her ears as she did.

This did little to stop the avenger, she simply pried your legs open, fingers digging into your flesh as you continued to writhe on the sheets.

“Shuri,” you whined, her name dragging over your lips.

“Yes, my love?” She mutters, kitten-kissing your clit. “P-Please, don’t s-stop.” you begged.

She opens her eyes to look up at you, scratching your hip to make you reciprocate.

“You’re going to regret indulging me, sweet girl.”

You barely sputter out a reply as Shuri drives her tongue into your drenched hole, curling it upwards as if she’s searching inside you, twisting the muscle to find that familiar spot that made you fall apart every time.

“Gods, baby, right there! Keep it right there!” You utter, releasing your grip on the sheets and replacing your grasp onto Shuri’s curls.

She leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your entrance before sticking her tongue out as your hips grind onto her.

That’s it, use me.

Your pants sped up, aligning with your hips as you fuck yourself on her face. You’re close, you both know it, from the way your legs are trembling over her shoulders to the pulsing of your pussy that leaked onto her chin.

“Yes, fuck! Shuri! Shuri!” You chanted, nearly prayer-like had it not been falling from such sinful lips.

Her name continued to vibrate off the walls when your release erupted through you, your body shaking as you rode it out.

The queen lapped up your essence, sucking every drop that threatened to fall from your center as she groaned at the taste. “Such a good fucking girl.”

You exhaled contently, beginning to sit up before a strong hand pushes your torso back down. Her name didn’t leave your tongue before hers was back on you, humming at the way your center throbbed at the stimulation.

Despite pushing her head away, you moaned, the lines of too much and too good blurring. “M-my love, please. Just wa-ait-” you stuttered, looking down to her.

Your words were cut off as she grabbed your wrists, pinning them on either side of your hips as she looked up to you with hallowed cheeks, sucking harshly.

Another strangled moan rips through your throat as your hands balls in fists, fighting a losing battle of breaking free from your highness’ hold.

“I can’t,” you say, eyes watering as she moves one hand off your wrist to push two fingers inside you with little resistance.

Finally, she pulls her mouth off you. “Aw, you gonna cry for me, pretty? Give me those cute little tears to match the way your pussy’s sobbing for me?” she smirks, pumping her lanky fingers steadily in and out of you.

“Fuck!” You sob, a tear rolling down your plump cheek as you feel that familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach.

“You gonna cum for me, Y/n?” she asks lowly.

“Yes!”

“Give it to me. Please, let me have it.” She begs, licking her lips while she curls her fingers up.

You practically yell incoherently as she guides you through your orgasm, a mix of moans and curses fill the air as you come down from your high.

A sigh leaves you as she slowly pulls her fingers out, you smile softly as she stands, lifting them to your mouth. You enclose your lips around her while holding her gaze, groaning at the taste of yourself while swirling your tongue between her fingers as she removes them, a line of spit trailing close behind.

Shuri’s eyes darken at the sight of you; locs messily splayed against the bed, eyes puffy and slightly red, neck full of marks of varying size and color no doubt worsening by the minute.

You looked absolutely beautiful.

She leans down to trap you in an intoxicating kiss, brushing her tongue against yours while cradling your face. Your lips dance with one another, going from slow and gentle, to quick and desperate.

She pulls back, chuckling as you chase her touch, to stand. You watch intently as her suit retracts into the toothed necklace laying fiercely against her neckline. You prop yourself up on your elbows as she removes her sports bra and underwear, dragging the undergarment teasingly down her leg.

Any hopes you had at ending at a mere two rounds died as her lustful gaze held you in place, unable to move as she stalked toward the bed.

She crawled beside you, laying on her side as you turned to face her. The two of you admire one another for a moment, the dips, curves, and everything in between on each others’ body. Shuri lifted two fingers to trail up your leg, eyes following as her touch tickled you.

She enjoyed watching you squirm, knowing it was her who made you this way. That’s precisely why she smiled as her fingertips grazed your shoulder, falling in the valley between your breasts. She could feel you shudder as her thumb tweaked your nipple. Your eyes remained on her face as you watched her play with you. It was common during sex with Shuri, she would often get lost in the action of touching you, seeing reactions she could get.

She treated you like a toy, meant to be played with and enjoyed for her own fulfillment, and you fucking loved it.

She reaches to flick your other nipple as she kissed you, soft and sweet, contrary to her movements. You moan in her mouth, relaxing into her touch. She places a hand on the back of neck as she rolls onto her back, wrapping a leg around your waist.

Your head drops into the crook of her neck as your feel your pussy brush hers. You roll your hips onto hers, rubbing your clits against one another.

Shuri groans, biting her lower lip as she matches your rhythm. She was so wet from eating you out, poor thing was rubbing her thighs together to ease the pressure growing inside her as she pleased you.

Your hand is above her head, holding you steady as you rock your hips together, the sloshing of your arousals mixing making you cry out as your third orgasm approached quickly.

“Shit, you feel so good,” she breaths, breasts rising and falling rapidly as she keeps your pace. Her hand reaches for yours above her, intertwining your fingers. She squeezes your palm with each connection of your hips. “I’m close, usana, so close.”

You both loved this position. It was one of the few with you on top, in control. It was more intimate than others because you both were so close, nothing else but each other making one feel this way. Panther and pantheress, holding each other until it became too much, picking up the pieces of one another just to chase the high all over again.

You grabbed the back of her knee that was previously around your waist, bringing it to lay on your shoulder as you rolled your pussy harder onto hers.

“Nnghh-baby, right there. You’re so fucking good to me. Ewe! Don’t stop.” She cried, hips nearly rising off the mattress in attempt to get closer. You bent down, connecting your foreheads as you breathed in one another, chasing that euphoric feeling creeping closely in the both of you.

“Cum with me, my queen,” you begged. “Cum all over this pussy!”

She rocked her hips up onto yours, groaning loudly as her body shook against yours. You came shortly after, collapsing on top of her as you both breathed heavily. She kisses your shoulder gently, muttering sweet nothings into your skin.

Though it took longer for you, your breathing slowed, heart rate returning to normal. Shuri sensed this, taking the moment to address the elephant in the room.

“So,” she uttered, hands resting on the curve of your ass. “I am forgiven?”

The slight uncertainty in her tone makes you giggle as you sit up slightly to see her face. You take in her features, while fucked-out, you could see the sincerity in her eyes. “Yeah,” you say after a beat, “I forgive you.”

Her smile makes your heart melt, the apples of her cheeks rising as she begins to speak before you cut her off with a finger raised. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.” You start, seeing her smile lessen.

“You can’t just shut me out for weeks, flake on our dates, and barely acknowledge me, then come over and and do this,” you gesture towards your sweating, naked forms.

“I need you to let me back in, talk to me, let me know what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.” she nods softly as you speak.

“I am truly sorry, my love. There’s no explanation that justifies my actions. I just…I got scared.” she admits, closing her eyes.

“Scared of what, Shuri?” you ask, tilting your head in attempt to get the girl to met your gaze. Once she does, you sense the hesitance in her movements. “If I don’t know, I can’t help, Ri.” She sighs, opening her eyes to meet yours—kind and curious as the day she met you.

“I-I just can’t shake the thought that one day you’ll leave me,” she begins, continuing when she sees your confused expression. “That you’ll find someone else to treat you the way you deserve, that you’ll realize I’m just this…broken girl who’s heart you can’t fix.”

“Hey,” you bring one of her hands to your lips, kissing her knuckles. “You are not broken, and you damn sure don’t need to be fixed. You’re human, despite having the strength of the Black Panther,” you teased, earning a light chuckle. “You’re not perfect, nor do I expect you to be. What I do expect, is for you to trust me, to communicate with me, to let me take the load off.”

Her brows raised at your statement’s implications, a smile growing on her face. Heat rises to your cheeks as you hit her shoulder lightly. “Stop! That’s not what I meant,” you say, fighting the smile rising on your features.

“That said,” you continue, “I’m glad you came over.”

“Really? I was getting the feeling you wanted me gone when you started screaming ‘Shuri! Shuri!’” she mocked, earning another smack on the shoulder.

“Ow! Hit me again, woman. See how much of a load you can take,” she warned.

You smiled sinisterly as you hopped off the bed, walking towards the bathroom. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Panther,” you smiled over your shoulder.

You heard her chuckle behind you as the bed creaked, her footsteps trailing close behind you and the door clicked shut.

-

The bath you had ran was sure to be freezing by now, long abandoned by it’s owners who were meant to be “saving water.”

Somewhere between you running the bath water and Shuri getting fresh towels led to you ending up bent over the countertop with her strap eight inches deep inside your cunt.

You didn’t even see her get the damn thing, much less put on the harness. You would’ve figured her sex drive was fulfilled by now, but as you leaned over to check the running water, you felt her wrap her arms around you, pushing you onto the nearest surface as she slipped inside. The panther was indeed still on the prowl.

“Look at yourself, see how good you look? How good we look? How could I ever think you were made to take anyone else but me, hm?”

Her questions feel upon seemingly deaf ears, because all you could focus on was the feeling of her. How right she was. How right it feels when she’s inside you, mercilessly pushing her hips into yours so hard you felt her everywhere.

The pain of your hips meeting the cold, hard countertop mixed with the pleasure of her dick repeatedly hitting that numbing spot began to be too much. Coupled with the overstimulation from previous orgasms, you were on the verge of cumming in minutes.

Shuri noticed this too. She look down to see where she disappeared and reappeared inside you, noticing the clench of your walls around her as well as the thick ring of your arousal coating her strap. She smirked, knowing you were close. She changed her action from bringing her hips to yours to harshly bringing your ass to meet her cock, reaching impossibly deeper inside you.

You let out a guttural moan, now uncaring and unashamed of anyone who might hear you, making the woman smile. This was the panther’s pussy, and she wanted your entire complex to know.

“Shuri, please!” You nearly screamed.

“Please what, sthandwa sami? What do you want?” she says breathlessly, her own release building as well.

“Please don’t stop.”

“Tell me. Tell me who does this pussy belong to? Ungokabani?” she replies, her pace unfaltering as you whimpered, her words only lessening the distance of your high.

Who do you belong to? How could she ask such a thing? From the moment she walked in, she knew your were hers, if you’d really wanted her to leave, she wouldn’t have made it past the hallway. You wanted her, nearly more than she wanted you. You wanted her to chase you, to catch you, make you know that as much you try to hide it, you existed simply for one another.

“You! I’m yours. I’m yours, my queen. I’ve never belonged to anyone, but you!”

The royal’s hips faltered at the statement, lost in the undeniable honesty of your words. She toke the opportunity to learn over, whispering in your ear. “That’s right, nkosazana. And you never will.”

That’s was confirmation enough for you. With the next thrust you were cumming. Your limbs grew limp as you squirted all over Shuri’s pelvis, moaning loudly.

You looked up at the mirror, lower lip caught between your teeth to see Shuri’s head buried in your neck as she continued to sloppily move inside you. Her groans were stifled by your skin, the vibrations making you shudder as you felt her bottom out, throwing her head back as your name left her lips.

She bends over you again, kissing your shoulder before meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“Ndiyakuthandana, sweet girl.”

You hummed, a lazy smile on your face, eyes low-lidded as you replied. “I love you too.”

She smiled at your words, standing before pulling out of you slowly. You sighed as she did, missing the feeling of being filled.

“Come on,” she said nodding toward the shower, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

You stood, wincing at the slight pain your back. Taking her hand, you limped slowly.

Her free hand went to start the shower, fingers running under the stream to assure a comfortable temperature for you. Once she was satisfied, Shuri steps inside, pulling you into her embrace as she does.

Your arms wrap around her necks as hers cage your waist. Your fingertips play with the growing hair at her nape as she hums contently, leaning her head back into your touch.

You tilt your head up to place a soft kiss on her lips. Shuri reciprocated, pushing her tongue into your mouth. She pulls away your bottom lip between her teeth as she growls deeply.

“Mine.”

You smile happily as you reply.

“Yours.”

[rinhaler]

Think Slow, 'Cause I Move Fast

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Since your recent attack, all Yuuji wants to do is keep you safe at home. But a letter from your parents makes that a little difficult...

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, exhibitionism, semi public, fingering, bullying, drugging mentions, bladder failure mention, vomiting mention, praise kink, brief fainting (ish).

WORDS : 4.5k

notes : the way i am SO invested in this all over again LMAO i sorta ate huh

        LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

You’ve never taken so many days off from your studies in your whole life. It couldn’t be helped, but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling guilty for taking the Tuesday off. Maybe if you went to class, your punishment from Megumi would have been a lot less severe. With what little time you’ve had to yourself since you awoke from your two-day long slumber, you’ve done nothing but think and overthink. He invited those two girls out from your class and planned the whole thing, knowing they’d do anything he asked. You’re even willing to bet one of those girls was who he was fingering upstairs outside of the toilets. Your memory is choppy, but you remember what they said to you clear as day.

That pill Megumi told us to slip in her drink was really strong, huh?

Every time those words play in your mind you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. How could someone be so evil? You don’t know what you did to warrant this, any of this. It was extreme, it was heartless, and you felt stabbing pangs in your heart as you thought this might be happening until you graduate.

Maybe you should transfer.

Maybe you should leave him, Yuuji, your studies, everything behind.

You finally woke up on Friday, and didn’t know a minute of peace. The police interviewed you, telling you the girls could face up to a maximum of ten years for drugging you. It was sick, however, that it wouldn’t be the case. You were an unreliable source because of your intoxication, and nobody else had witnessed them spiking you.

Of course Megumi got off scot-free since he didn’t actually do it and there was no way you could prove he masterminded the whole thing. The authorities were sympathetic, but it was out of their hands.

Yuuji has barely spoken since the incident. He knows you're too frightened and upset to talk about it for now, but he's at least thankful you were being honest with the police. Even though it came to nothing. He wants to murder Megumi with his bare hands. That is why he didn’t speak. Because all of his energy needed to go into taking care of you, making you feel better. And if he starts talking, if he starts asking questions, he’ll lose all rationale.

He won’t be responsible for his actions or what he would do to his former best friend.

Your insides are raw, you can’t eat, all you can do is sleep. Fragile is the only way to describe your body; each and every movement you make feels like a gargantuan task. Yuuji is running around after you; he's everything in his power to help you through this.

Although he was slightly intoxicated himself when you returned from the club, he managed to sit you in the bathtub while he showered you. He did his best to remove the paint from your body, but his priority was clearing you of vomit and urine, and the vile word that had been smeared across your skin in lipstick. He immediately put your clothes (save for the t shirt that he threw in the bin) in the washing machine and dressed you in loose comfy pyjamas before carrying you to bed. He made sure to keep you on your side with a sick bucket on the floor next to your bedside table.

Gojo stayed for a while, wanting to make sure you were okay, and he wanted to keep an eye on Yuuji . He had no idea what to tell him since he didn’t know what had happened. He managed to keep it together while the pair of them speculated. All he could see in his mind was your frail body being carried by those wonderful women who chose to help you. Your shirt had been cut open with precision, telling him it was a premeditated attack. Somebody brought scissors into a nightclub, they knew they were going to do this to you. He had a niggling sensation that it was Megumi, but he wasn’t sure since he hadn’t seen him at the club. So, the only other people he could think of were those girls, the girls who claimed to be your friend.

He tortured himself for leaving you. He didn’t want to fucking leave you, but he did, because he’s an idiot. He knew he should have stayed with you, something was nagging at him to protect you, but he didn’t. Itadori couldn’t possibly feel any worse, because he should have known better. He did know better, but he ignored his instincts anyway.

He did feel worse again, though, when he woke up the next morning and you were still fast asleep. He didn’t notice the previous night, but in the glittering morning sun peeking through the blinds he saw your neck. He saw the blushing blue blooms, unmistakable finger marks etched into your poor throat. Not only had you been publicly humiliated, but you’d also been outright attacked.

Yuuji encouraged you to tell the police about the attack too, you were sober then, you remembered that Megumi did it to you. But again, it was your word against his. They couldn’t find anyone to corroborate your story. As far as they were concerned there was nothing more they could do.

Everything was hopeless. The system had failed you. You wanted to escape, to leave and never look back. Forget about this whole incident, the worst few days of your entire life and it was all his fault.

It was all Megumi Fushiguro’s fault.

The minute you found some energy, you got yourself out of bed to discover your boyfriend in the front room. He immediately jumps to his feet and to the kitchen so that he could make you a drink. You sit down in the armchair, bringing your legs up and crossing them over one another.

He’s never seen you like this. You’re normally so happy and full of energy, and you're the most glamorous girl he’s ever met. Priding yourself on your fashion and appearance has always been important to you. But Yuuji barely recognises the girl in front of him today. Despite him washing your hair, it was wiry and almost greasy looking. You were paler than pale, he wouldn’t dare say it, but he thought you looked like you’d just been dug up. Your eyes are so bloodshot, he could barely stomach looking at them. There isn’t a patch of white in either of them. The bags under your eyes were so black, he asked you a few times if you remember anyone punching you. You shook your head insistently; you're just so damn tired.

He sets two drinks down in front of you. A green tea and a glass of ice-cold water. He isn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so he decided to give you options.

“How are you feeling?” he asks stupidly, knowing the answer.

How were you feeling isn’t a stupid question, because even you didn’t have an answer.

You're happy, happy it seems like you were finally getting over the worst of the drug you’d been spiked with.

You're sad, sad that this had happened to you, and you aren’t sure how much worse things could get.

You're terrified, terrified that despite doing the right thing, despite telling the police what had happened so they could deliver justice to the perpetrators, they’d gotten away with everything and were free to continue making your life hell.

“I’m tired, Yuuji… so fucking tired.” you sigh, resting your forehead in one hand and rubbing your temples.

He knows you're tired, of course he fucking knows.

But your boyfriend feels helpless, he wants to lash out, to yell, to scream even. But he can’t, he can’t because he knows you wouldn’t want any of that. You wouldn’t want him taking the law into his own hands and getting in trouble.

The whole situation is a fucking nightmare.

As your eyes remain shut while you cradle your aching head, a memory pops into your mind. Not about the night, you're sick of remembering that night. But you lift your gaze to find Yuuji’s, and he looks back at you inquisitively.

“Yuuji could you—” and before you’ve even finished talking, he's on his feet, ready and waiting for your instructions, “could you get the letter my parents sent… I forgot to open it.” you request.

Yuuji rushes back with the fancily sealed envelope in record time. He placed it delicately in your hands before returning to his spot on the couch. It feels like a punishment to hold it in your hands. Albeit impossible, you considered whether Megumi had been behind this too. Had he somehow managed to find out who your parents are and mastermind another situation to make your life hell?

Deep down you knew it could only be one of two things.

A cheque, or an invitation. There were two conditions your parents gave you if they were to let you attend a public university rather than a prestigious (pretentious) academy.

You were forbidden from living on campus. They didn’t want to run the risk of anything happening to you in your dorm room or dealing with uncouth roommates. You weren’t sure what concerned them so much about living with other students, but you wonder if they were concerned they’d get you hooked on drugs or perform premarital sex.

At least you’ve never willingly indulged in the former.

But the second condition was they got to choose your place of residence. So that is how you are an unemployed student who can afford to live in a house of her own.

Your rich parents pay for it.

They weren’t too pleased to discover you almost immediately let Yuuji move in with you too, but they didn’t really have a say in the matter. And as far as your sex life was concerned, if they wanted to believe you were still a virgin and weren’t fucking your boyfriend, that was on them.

Peeling off the pretty pink seal seems to take an eternity. You don’t want to know what's inside, Yuuji looks like he's about to burst any minute if you don’t open it quicker. He's on tenterhooks, practically hanging off the edge of the sofa as he waits for you to open it. Once the seal is removed, you look into Yuuji’s eyes. You take a massive gulp as your fingers begin to convulse with fear.

“Do you want me to open it?” He asks, you shake your head.

You softly move the envelope flap upwards, frightened fingers poke inside to grab whatever it contains. Your eyes are screwed shut as you pull it out. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, your brain is pulsing against your skull in anticipation. The dread you feel at the thought of what was on the piece of paper is too much. But before Yuuji can intervene and read it for you, you find the courage to look.

You exhale disappointedly flipping the paper over for Yuuji to see and read.

An invitation.

“So, your folks finally bought a second manor home huh? Must be nice…” he trails off.

“I should have read it sooner, we’re going to have to start packing so we can set off early tomorrow.” you explain as you stand to your feet. But before you can retreat upstairs to your bedroom to begin packing the essentials, Yuuji grabs the flesh of your upper arm and stops you.

“We aren’t going.” he tells you. You look at him curiously, unsure of how he came to that conclusion. It isn’t optional, you would never avoid attending a family event no matter what and he knows that. “You’re still recovering, you get that right? There’s no way we are going.” he adds, earning a smile from you.

“It’ll be fine Yuuji, it’s only for the weekend.” you attempt to alleviate any tension or concerns from him, but he simply shrugs you off and brings your body closer to his so he can stare down into your eyes.

“We aren’t going. I’m saying this for you. It’s too soon, I’m sure if you explain what happened they’ll understand.” he tries to reason with you, to make you see sense. But all you could offer in return to his words is a cruel scoff.

“You’re not serious? If I tell them, they’ll enrol me into a different school, they just need one excuse. I don’t want anyone to know, I’m embarrassed enough. I don’t want this, want him to rule my life Yuuji. I want to go to my parents’ housewarming party and forget the whole thing.” you tell him sternly, freeing yourself from his hold and continue your journey to the bedroom.

“But—”

“I mean it Yuuji. We are going whether you like it or not,” you spit as you turn to face him once again, “I’d appreciate your support right now. I just want to feel normal, so please, come and help me pack.”

You look at him as his face droops. He looks devastated and you truly feel for him. He's beating himself up over what happened, and you couldn’t do or say anything that would ease his guilt. He's doing everything he can to make it up to you, to make up for his own self-appointed shame, all he wants to do is protect you, but it seems he can’t do anything right. So, he relents.

“Okay."

The car ride to your parents’ new address is painful. You set off ridiculously early so that you’d be there on time. And by on time, you mean early. Because being on time would in fact be being late.

The biggest reason Yuuji doesn’t want to attend is to protect you after your attack. But it certainly didn’t help matters that he hates going to see your parents. He’s only met them a handful of times, and they are nice enough, but he knows they look down their noses at him and don’t think he's good enough for you. It shouldn’t matter that he isn’t from a wealthy family, he loves you and would do anything for you.

He’d probably die for you.

And that should be enough to prove that he’s worthy of your love.

It’s enough for you, and that’s all you care about.

You opt to wear a black and white pinstripe pantsuit. You know no matter what you wear your mother will have something to say about it, so you do your best to dress comfortably yet sophisticated.

Yuuji is dressed nicely too, he thought the comfy, yet sophisticated look was the right move too, and since he knows your parents disapprove of him it wouldn’t matter what he wore.

He's dreading the snide comments all weekend, it would never cease, but as long as he has you by his side, he knows you can both get through it.

He has one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh, he's gripping awfully tight. You suspect a combination of nerves and an overwhelming desire to protect you. When you’re right around the corner of the entrance of your parents’ house, you decide to apply a fresh layer of gloss. You don’t expect Yuuji’s fingers to begin wandering their way towards your sex, so you yelp at the feeling of his pinkie finger slowly tracing over your clothed clit.

“Take em off,” he demands.

Your heart is racing, you aren’t sure what you should do. You want it, you want him. You love his touch, you love him, you want to be with him and feel normal. But you’re right outside of your parents’ house. You don’t have time and it isn’t wise. But before you can answer him, he’s delved his fingers down your pants and is awkwardly rubbing your clit with the irritating obstruction in the way.

“Off.” he tells you again. You ask him to pull over, so he does. It isn’t anywhere hidden, but he doesn’t have time for that. He just wants to make you feel good before you go inside.

You lower your trousers and underwear just enough to give him access. You do your best to keep the volume down, but he feels so good. These few days have been the longest you’ve gone without being intimate with Yuuji. And you’re tense, fuck you’re so tense. He can feel it in the way you’re holding back, the way you don’t want to let yourself go. Because all he’s doing is lightly tracing your sensitive bundle of nerves and you’re already dying to cum.

“Yuuji…” you half gasp half moan at him, screwing your eyes closed as one of your hands grips the arm he’s using to pleasure you and the other is digging nails into the back of your head rest.

“You wanna cum? ‘m not stoppin’ you baby. Cum for me.” he instructs.

And it’s humiliating, really, how submissive your cunt is to its owner. You’re gushing around his gentle fingers as more and more slick pumps out of you. Your chest is heaving, but he leans over to you to kiss your cheek.

He demands that you face him so he can kiss you through your orgasm.

He wants to swallow your moans and remember what a good girl you are for him.

When you finally relax, you’re almost furious. Furious that you’re dripping wet and you’re going to have to ruin your panties and probably your trousers too. Furious that you won’t be able to clean up instantly because you’ll have to socialise for a while with your family, and furious that Yuuji was stupid enough to think any of this was a good idea.

But when you see him sensually lick his fingers clean, you can’t deny the way your pussy jumps at the sight. He’s so fucking perfect. His innocent face performing such a lewd act excites you. You’re so lucky to have him. Because after he finishes cleaning his fingers, he opens the glove compartment on the passenger side and reveals a packet of baby wipes for you to clean yourself up with. He cups the crown of your head and brings you closer to him, leaving a simultaneously hard yet soft kiss on your forehead, and whispering sweet nothings into your hair.

“Such a good girl f’me baby. Y’look so pretty when you cum for me. ‘m so fuckin’ proud of you.” he murmurs into your scalp.

It takes everything inside of you to not unzip his trousers and suck him off to show him just how much you fucking love him. But instead, you hurriedly clean the slick from your folds and Yuuji finally turns into the driveway of your parents’ new estate.

And holy shit.

You didn’t think a house could possibly be bigger than the first.

They deemed the previous butler worthy of staying, apparently. He's a nice man who shows you and Yuuji to where everyone is located. The house is baron, which seems ridiculous to you. What’s the point of having a housewarming party if no one is going to be in the house?

Instead, everyone is situated in the garden. You can’t spot your parents immediately. But there are a lot of familiar faces. Not family friends, although that’s what your mother and father will claim they are.

No, they were nothing but names.

Big names to spread the word about what a beautiful new home your parents have. There is no point in having a new manor house unless your parents can brag about it.

But you do eventually spot them. And a man who you could only see the back of. He's tall, likely around 6’4” in height. He's moving his arms while your parents look at him with an intense gaze, he's story telling. He's well built, extremely large and muscular. It's unusual to you that he's dressed so casually.

You're curious as to how your parents know him, he doesn’t look like the type of person they would allow into their social circle.

And you didn’t recognise him at all.

They all reposition themselves onto a nearby table, Yuuji stands with you as you watch the conversation unfold. You're totally enraptured by the way they converse with each other. And then the stranger sits down. He sits down and gives you the perfect view of the right side of his face.

When you see his profile you just about fainted. Yuuji catches you in his arms as other party goers look concerned. Your parents have finally noticed you, now, and rush over to see you, the man follows, and there's no mistaking him.

While your parents approach with a hastened pace, he almost dawdles behind them. Yuuji lowered you to the ground while everyone fusses around you, asking what was wrong and if you need some water. But you have a clear view of him as he carries on coming towards you.

His hair is black as the night sky in a small country town. It isn’t awfully long, but longer than any other respectable guest who is here today. It looks soft and shiny, but it knew to settle and not move around too much. His green eyes glisten in the sparkling sunshine, and you can see another set of green eyes so vividly in your mind. A pair of green eyes that made your heart race and send sheer terror through your entire being. But what gives it away, what really gives it away, iss the scar.

That fucking scar on the right side of his mouth. It looks old, like he’d had it for years. It's so striking, and that is how you knew there was no mistaking.

It was him.

It was the man from Megumi’s sketchbook.

It takes you a while to calm down after everyone had been fussing over you. But Yuuji had hooked his arms underneath you so he could carry you to a nearby chair.

Your mother snaps her fingers and demands a member of staff instantly get you a drink. Your father dismisses everyone and tells them to continue enjoying the function, he towers over you while your mother crouches on the balls of her feet and strokes your hands.

Yuuji is behind you, circling your shoulders with his thumbs in an attempt to soothe you.

And then there's him.

He's sitting on the same table as you, not paying too much attention to you but wanting to stick around to see that you were okay.

When you have a glass of water in your hand, you down it in just a few seconds and request another. Water dribbles down the sides of your mouth which your mother quickly dabs with a handkerchief.

You were breathe so heavily and so gravelly.

Your mother looks furious at your lack of manners but didn’t want to make a scene in front of the guests. Your gaze is fixed on the man you’d only seen in drawings, he put his phone into his pocket as he decides to give you all his full attention.

“Nice to see ya again kid,” he smiles, the little scar on his lips pulling so deliciously.

You’re certain you’ve never met him, so you were dumbfounded that he claimed to remember you. You didn’t have the energy to speak, it was like something had robbed you of your words.

Your lips open wide enough to speak, but whatever words you’d planned on forming died dead in your mouth when you heard words coming from behind you instead.

“Yeah it’s been a while Mr. Fushiguro, didn’t expect to see you here, sir.” Yuuji replies.

Of course.

Of course Yuuji would know who the mystery man is in the drawings. He’s Megumi’s best friend after all, or he was. Mr. Fushiguro, the name alone made your skin crawl.

Another one of him.

Your mouth is agape, your eyes finding the unknown relative of Megumi’s. He waves his hand around, totally brushing Yuuji off.

“Cut that crap out now kid,” he begins, “call me Toji.” he tells him. Yuuji nods, acquiescing to his request. And then Toji’s eyes find yours. You felt so small under his gaze. “And I haven’t seen you since you were… Four, maybe?” he tells you.

“I- uh…” you clear your throat, “I don’t know you.” you admit.

He laughs, really laughs. You guess he appreciates your honesty. He crosses one leg over the other as he begins to swing back in his chair.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m not one to remember someone’s name either.” he confesses, studying you. He does know you; he really knows you. He’s so comfortable to stare at you and examine you. You want to know how he knows you; you want to inquire as to what relation he is to Megumi, but before you can speak Yuuji talks from behind you once again.

“Are the rest of the Zen’in clan here?” he wonders, his grip of your shoulders tightening.

“Unfortunately,” he responds, your father jostles his elbow into him playfully which makes Toji grin. “They’re around somewhere, more are probably on their way.” he explains. Yuuji nods before leaning down to you, his mouth close enough to your ear that his breath alone forces goosebumps to pinch and form across your whole body,

“We have to go, now.” he buzzes to you.

He doesn’t wait for you to answer before he grabs your hand and drags you away from the table. You both say your polite goodbyes before heading through the manor again. Your parents are dumbfounded, and worse, disgusted at Yuuji’s abrupt rudeness.

“What’s going on Yuuji?” you ask. But he ignores you, pulling you in the direction of the front door.

He swings it open, and you’re both as still as statues. Of all the places, of all the places in the fucking world…

You’re both staring out of the door, and now that you’ve seen Toji in person, the resemblance is striking.

Megumi’s finger is rested on the doorbell he’s holding in. When the three of you break out of your trances, the raven-haired man in front of you clears his throat.

His face doesn’t change. He looks bored, and you hate him for it. It’s that same static facial expression he always has. It’s the way he somehow manages to keep getting away with murder. Because no one would ever believe that this quiet, almost silent person keeps making your life unbearable. His vision rolls between staring at you and then staring at Yuuji. But finally, he’s settled on you.

His eyes are almost as intense as the other Fushiguro’s out in the garden. His lip’s part, and his words make your skin crawl.

“Well well. What do we have here?”

© 2021 fuwushiguro | © 2023 rinhaler

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 03)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): pregnancy, brief talk of abortion, stalker behavior, kidnapping, curse words (this shouldn't even warrant a warning at this point lol) pls lmk if I miss anything

Word Count: 2000-ish

Author's Note: told ya the pt 3 would be here sooner than you'd expect! as always, LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG cause these give me the motivation I need to finish the parts sooner and maybe upload more frequently 👀

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You always took pride in your ability to predict things correctly. It was one of the best traits that made you a great profiler.

Not this time, though.

This time, your ability to conjure correct predictions just seemed like a big joke that the universe purposefully played out to torture your ass.

The ringtone of your phone's incoming call snapped you back to reality. Without looking at the caller ID, you pressed the green button and brought the device to your ear.

"(Y/L/N) speaking."

"Hey, Beets. Where are you?" came the voice of one Penelope Garcia. "Hotch is looking for you. Are you coming in today?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm coming in. Sorry, it was an emergency. Tell the others I'll be there shortly."

After ending the call, you rushed through the rest of your morning routine as quickly as possible. The three opened boxes on the bathroom sink were thrown into the garbage can in no time. Their contents sitting on the counter, however, required you to pause and contemplate what course of actions you would want to do to deal with the problem at hand.

Upon realizing that this was not the kind of dilemma you could solve in a matter of minutes, you decided to fuck it before dumping the items into the same garbage can.

The three tests with two little pink lines would have to wait.

You had a serial murder case to solve.

If five months ago someone had told you that you'd someday end up carrying the child of Derek Morgan, you would have ordered a psychological evaluation for them right then and there.

The past few days had been a catastrophic turmoil. At first, the irrational anger had devoured you whole. You were this close to calling the company who produced your pills for claiming that they had 99% chance of preventing exactly the kind of mess you were going through from happening. Granted, they had put the minus 1% up there to save face in case anything like this were to ever happen. But what were the chances of you being one of the outliers in that small percentage?

Apparently, a pretty good one.

Then, the panic quickly had taken control and messed up with your head. The endless anxiety of having to bring a child into such a cruel world and bearing the responsibility of raising it, while having witnessed what kind of evil lurked underneath its facade, almost threw you to the brink of insanity. During those moments of fear, you had even entertained the idea of possibly terminating the pregnancy, even going as far as calling the nearest facility to question more about the procedure.

But once the fog had cleared, and you were able to start thinking rationally again, realization soon dawned upon you.

You wanted to keep the baby.

In some curious plot twist, you discovered that the idea of having this baby wasn't as scary as the knowledge of having to face Derek and inform him of the news.

And that was exactly what had been occupying your entire mind: how to break the news to Derek.

You barely even had the guts to talk to him directly anymore. Yet somehow, you had to find a way to tell him that you were pregnant, right to his face, as if you were bringing the news of a new movie that had just premiered in your nearest local theater.

How the hell were you ever going to do that?

And it wasn't like you were worried that Derek wouldn't be supportive about your decision to keep the baby. Even if he was unsupportive, there was nothing he could do to persuade you to change your mind. But Derek--sweet and kindhearted Derek--would never do such a thing. Having lost his father at a very young age himself, there was no way anyone could keep him from taking care of his child, no matter how they came to be in this world.

So, before you could gather your thoughts--and yourself--you had decided to put off telling Derek about your current condition.

"Still nothing, Garcia?" Hotch asked from his place in front of the board.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I've tried everything, but there was nothing else I could uncover from that tape."

The rest of the team was seated around the round table. It had been two weeks since the BAU received the video tape from the UnSub, and Garcia had finally revealed that there was nothing more to be analyzed from the tape despite having only obtained insignificant details out of it.

It also didn't help that the UnSub had been lying dormant since that video was delivered.

"It just doesn't make sense," Rossi said frustratedly. "Why would he stop now? What is he waiting for? This guy gets off on attention. Stopping his theatrics at a time like this doesn't fit his profile at all."

"He must be looking to get his attention from somewhere else," Derek chimed in.

"Yeah, but the question is where?" Reid interjected.

"And what is he planning to do to make sure he gets it?" Hotch let out a long sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, we're not going to stop just because this guy has. Emily, JJ, try interviewing the victims' families, friends, and the witnesses again. See if they suddenly have something useful for us. Morgan and Rossi, follow up on our other leads. Reid--"

"The case files. I know." Reid nodded.

"Right. And (Y/L/N)--" Hotch pinned his stare towards you, "--I need to talk to you. Thank you, everyone. Dismissed."

"Are you in trouble?" Emily leaned in as the rest of the team scattered out of the room.

"Not as far as I know," you whispered.

As you walked the path to Hotch's office, your mind began searching for the possibilities behind Hotch's sudden request to see you privately. You didn't get to guess for too long, though, as you finally arrived in front of his door almost in no time at all.

"Come on in, Agent. Close the door behind you," he commanded. You turned around to nudge the door closed. "Have a seat."

You didn't spend any time beating around the bush once you had sat down.

"Can I ask what this is about?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Hotch looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "I heard you requested a half day off today."

"I, uh... yes. Yes, I did. Is that why I'm here?"

"No. That is not why you're here." Hotch leaned back against his seat. "You've been distracted lately. You're coming late to work, and you can't seem to focus when you're around."

"I-I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"You should know that I've received concerns about you from the other members of the team."

What?

"Was it JJ?" you asked. "Because if this is about what happened in the bathroom--"

"It was Garcia, actually."

"Oh."

Hotch looked at you curiously. "What happened with JJ in the bathroom?"

"Nothing, sir. It was nothing."

The next few seconds were drowned in silence. The ticking clock on Hotch's desk became the only sound echoing against the walls. Hotch was examining you as if you were a suspect in the interrogation room, and with how much scrutiny was sizzling inside those eyes, you might as well have been.

"They're not the only ones concerned about you, (Y/L/N)," he spoke carefully. "I've also noticed that you haven't been yourself lately. You seem tired all the time. You look paler every single day." Hotch readjusted his tie before continuing, "I know that what we do here isn't easy. This job, it's not for everyone. Sometimes our limits are much smaller than what we thought it would be, and that's okay. If you'd like to put in a request for a transfer, I'm sure I will be able--"

"Sir," you stopped him before he could go on any further. "I don't want to transfer. I like working here."

"Just because you like working somewhere, it doesn't mean--"

"Hotch," you cut him off once more. "I'm pregnant."

The priceless look on Hotch's face at the sudden drop of your announcement would forever be ingrained in your brain.

"What?"

"I found out two weeks ago." You smiled tentatively. "I've been having severe morning sickness, and my appetite has also not been the best. Probably why I look tired all the time. I didn't mean to let my condition affect my work, I'm sorry."

"No, no. That's... wow. You're pregnant." Hotch started to nod as if the news was just beginning to fully settle upon him. "Congratulations, Agent. That's wonderful news. You are... happy, right?"

You smiled at his considerate question. "I am very much. Yes."

"How far along are you?"

"My guess is eight to ten weeks. I'm not so sure. Today is my first ultrasound, hence why I requested for half a day."

And then, by some unknown piece of miracle, Aaron Hotchner started to laugh. A real, actual laugh that had both of his eyes wrinkling in the corners. You didn't even know that he could do that without Jack around.

"When I called you in here earlier, this isn't exactly how I pictured the conversation would go," he admitted.

"Neither did I."

"Well--" He cleared his throat, "--there's, of course, a few things we need to go over in rumination of your current condition, but I'm sure we can manage that some other time."

"Of course, sir."

"And (Y/L/N)?" You stared at him expectantly. "You can come to me if you ever need anything. You know that, right?"

The sincerity in Hotch's declaration nearly brought you to tears. You immediately tried to blink back the emotions before you could make a mess of yourself in front of your boss.

"Of course, Hotch. Thank you."

You got up from the chair and began walking towards the door. Before your fingers could touch the handle, you decided to turn around once more.

"Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"I would appreciate it if we kept this between us for now."

"Of course, Agent." He nodded. "You have my word."

And with that, you exited Hotch's room before heading back straight to your desk.

A few hours later, you were finally returning home after attending the doctor appointment.

Confirming your earlier prediction, the doctor had put the estimated age of your fetus at around ten weeks. According to the internet, your baby was not larger than the size of a mere apricot. It was nothing more than a tiny blob in the sonogram image, but the sight of it alone somehow made you want to break down in tears.

Before you could turn into a sobbing ball of mess, you decided to put the picture right on the front of your fridge.

"Alright, I think that's--"

Thud.

Your head instinctively whipped around at the mysterious sound.

Without wasting another second, your hand immediately reached for the gun tucked safely in your holster. The tiny footsteps you took sounded deafening in the silence of your apartment. You first checked the bathroom, finding it empty with nothing out of the ordinary. The two bedrooms were pretty much the same. Quiet and a little messy just the way that you had left them that morning.

Sighing, you brushed off your paranoia as a result of your overactive hormons and creeping exhaustion.

When you reemerged from taking a shower nearly an hour later, the feeling of dread once again washed over your entire being.

At first glance, not a single thing in the apartment seemed to be out of place. But somehow, the feeling of another presence in the room was indisputable. Your wet feet slowly moved along the floor, careful as to not make as much sound as possible.

Once you arrived in the kitchen, you took in your surrounding, making sure that things really were staying in the places they should have been in.

You were about to sigh in relief until you saw it.

The sonogram image you previously had glued to the fridge.

It was now lying on the floor.

Before you could have a chance to grab the nearest weapon, the door to the second bedroom behind you suddenly began to creak.

"Boo."

That was the last thing you remembered before everything went dark.

[eddies-house]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Ten - A Chemistry Lesson

W/C: 8.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

And for once, you let go Of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much But it said enough

You Are In Love - T.S.

A/N: so i decided to split the chapter up, I started moving into another scene and it only felt right to give it it's own chapter as it opens up the night. i hope you guys love this chapter as much as i love this chapter <3

Masterlist

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“Dustin Henderson!”  The younger boy shoves past both of them confidently, his hand shaking yours impressively.

“We have heard so much–”  Robin begins though she’s cut off by Steve lightly smacking a hand against her stomach.

Frozen.  You’re frozen in time, an influx of information and new faces rendering you a speechless idiot.  Each one stares expectantly, awaiting some kind of a response, more than likely drawing their own conclusions about your silence and lack of communication.  They were going to be so disappointed in your shyness should they even have the patience to wait around.

Before you can humiliate yourself, Steve saves the day as an offended Robin glares at him, rubbing her stomach rather dramatically.  “Donnie.”  He states, only creating further confusion.  Several people stood before you and Donnie was not one of them, you were now struggling to keep up with the current interaction at the mention of her.  Overstimulated.  You were definitely overstimulated.  You can’t even imagine the dumb face you were sporting, the silence too loud as you struggled clinging onto words.  Any words in the English language at all at this point.

“Donnie has told us all about you.”  Steve elaborates finally.  “All good things, I promise!”  He chuckles, seemingly attempting to ease your anxieties that had made themselves evident in your wide eyes and worried forehead creases.

“Oh.”   

“Yeah, yeah!  And she’s told us all about how you’re Eddie’s new babysitter.”  Robin chimes in again, earning a pointed look from Steve.

Eddie’s reaction is lost on you, his existence temporarily vanishing as you take in the current conversation.  The idea of being perceived was one thing, it was entirely another to be perceived by four strangers who had apparently already been made aware of your existence.

“What she means is that we’ve heard you’ve been a good friend.”  Nancy softly smiles.

Friend.

You didn’t quite know why but the word felt insulting.  Not on any account of Nancy’s, there was no malice detected in her tone though you were still intimidated by her and figured with her being the prettiest girl in the room, she must at least be on Eddie’s radar.  The word ‘friend’ was starting to feel vulgar the more it played over in your head.

“Yeah, ‘friend’.”  Dustin uses air quotes, a wild grin on his youthful face.

At this, Steve delivers a harsh smack to the boy’s abdomen, more aggressive than he had done to Robin seconds ago.  

“Henderson.”  Eddie reprimands.

His voice lures you in despite your inner protests, your gaze traveling over each unique face until it settles on his.  That familiar distress showcases itself in the form of a frown; there was no telling what reaction you had expected of him but something about it makes your heart drop, your stomach feeling as if it was free falling in the worst way possible.  Were you really that repulsive?

It was obvious Dustin had only been joking but the disgust on Eddie’s face only forced your tear ducts to strain, your eyes becoming glassy in seconds.  It was a long shot, thinking that there could be any semblance of interest on Eddie’s part and you suppose you should be to blame for your hurt feelings.  He owed you nothing and here you were mourning over something that never was, all because he had let you see a piece of the inner workings of his mind.  It didn’t warrant a one way ticket into his heart.

“What!?”  Dustin shrugs, unbothered.

Robin steps forward, an apologetic smile gracing her features as she addresses you.  “I promise we’re not all gigantic dinguses.”

A flood of complaints spills from Dustin and Steve, Nancy only rolling her eyes at the interaction before taking the initiative in pursuing the conversation with you as the others bicker, Eddie only spectating the whole scene playing out in front of him.

“Dustin doesn’t always know when to keep quiet.”  She giggles, subtly pulling you to the side, her hand gentle as it rests on your forearm.  It almost repulses you, although your logic kicks in and pieces together that this woman has never done anything to elicit such a response from you.  “But he always means well.”

The heat was dying down, the unsolicited jealousy now tame within the confines of your body, not totally gone but no longer raging just beneath the surface.  If it were up to you you’d ball up the lingering feeling and burn it, if it were only so easy.

“Are they brothers?”  You ask, recalling that night you drove him home.  He only spoke of his uncle, Wayne.  He did also mention Dustin but never insinuated that they were related.  Based on the way they were interacting, you’d assume they were brothers in some sense of the word.

“Where’s your family?”  Eddie suddenly mumbles, eyes still glued to the scenery outside.  

The question is out of the blue and the last thing you would expect from him.  Although he had taken somewhat of a liking to you, he’d never taken an interest in something so personal.  And you offered him that same respect.  

“What?”  You ask, sneaking a glance at him, your hands squeezing the wheel.

His focus shifts from the window to you, his body turning inward as he leans his cheek against the headrest, waiting for your response.  The way his lips pucker from his cheek squishing against the seat only makes your heart clench.  His large awaiting eyes reflect the moon and you find it hard to change the subject when they appear so patient and attentive.

“Um, well, they’re back in…back home.”  You answer simply.

“Where’s that?”

He looked the most inquisitive you’d seen him, body turned toward you, his attention not once wavering.  Instead of the usual knit brows he often wore, his features remained softer and full of wonder.  Lips parted and eyes twinkling, who were you to deny his efforts?  Even if he was slightly under the influence.  Worst case scenario, he doesn’t remember this conversation.

“California.” 

“Oh.”  

You didn’t know what kind of response you were expecting but for some reason, the one word was a bit too vague, self consciousness kicking in.  

“What about yours?”  You shift the spotlight over to him.

From what you can tell as you keep your focus on the road, his gaze drops while he collects his thoughts, his breathing going shaky for just a second before he regains his composure.  A hum deep in his throat notifies you that he’s ready to begin speaking again.

“Uh, don’t really have one.  Never really have.  Or, uh, I just don’t remember them?  Other than my uncle, Wayne.  He’s back…”  Eddie hesitates.  “He’s in Indiana.”

Nancy’s gaze follows yours, locking in on the two boys catching up.  “Dustin and Eddie?”  Her puzzled expression already grants you your answer, though she continues.  “No, no they’re not related.  You’d think they are, with all the fantasy stuff they talk about and what not.”

“Fantasy stuff?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.”  Her perfectly plucked brows raise.  “My brother used to have me play with them, thank god Eddie stepped into the picture.”  She mutters.

“Eddie did mention Dungeons and Dragons.”  You nod. 

“And Dustin’s little drawing.”

“And the drawing?”

Your grin along with Nancy as you simultaneously speak, a few giggles filling the air between you.  

“So your brother is…Dustin?”

Amidst the calm conversation, Steve and Robin are cheering a few feet away, both of their arms now slung around Eddie.  It wasn’t clear what they were celebrating and it even seemed that they were just trying to embarrass him in that true friend fashion.  It was sweet, how much they cared about him, the lengths they went just to surprise him.

Nancy gracefully shakes her head, brunette curls bouncing with the movement and freckled nose scrunching playfully.  “No, no.  Dustin is one of my brother’s best friends.  Mike is my brother, he’s back at home in–”  Before she can reveal where ‘home’ was, her bright blue eyes widen.  “Back in Indiana.”  She corrects herself.

“I think Eddie’s mentioned Mike a few times.”  You recall the conversation, how he took Mike and Dustin under his wing in highschool.  “He couldn’t come?”

“He’s studying for midterms.”  She shakes her head.  “He really wanted to come but…you know between his girlfriend in California and college it’s just all…a lot.”  Her eyes are kind, probably the kindest you’d ever come across.

“I’d love to meet him one day.”  You smile, only hoping that you were reciprocating the same compassion she was radiating.  “And Max, and Lucas, and Wayne…”

Nancy’s eyes seem to brighten, ears perking up at the names.  “He told you about everyone?”  She asks softly, her baby pink lips upturning slightly.  

You nod.  Another eruption of laughter and shouting forces your attention toward the rest of the group, a proud grin displayed on Dustin’s face only hinting that he had just made a joke that even had Eddie hunched over in laughter, Steve’s arm still draped over his shoulder with his head thrown back.

“That is not funny.”  Robin pouts, arms crossed.

“I think it’s pretty funny.”  Steve smirks.

Nancy politely excuses herself from your one-on-one conversation, joining Robin’s side.  “What’s not funny?”

“When Robin swallowed an egg whole–”

“It’s not funny!”  Robin continues to protest.  “I almost died!”  

This only makes the boys cackle more, pulling an eye roll from Nancy.  

“C’mon Nance.”  Dustin grins.

“Yeah, c’mon Nance.”  Eddie chimes in.

Nance.

Why did it rub you the wrong way when he said it?  You assessed Nancy’s body language and nothing conveyed to you that she had any interest in him, however your mind continued it’s unruly torture.  Even so, Eddie had made it clear what he thought of you, that you were ‘too busy dry humping’ Jett and that even though that couldn’t be further from the truth, he would still lose respect for you.

Heat burrowed deep in your belly once again, the kind that wasn’t yet uncontrollable but should anyone add fuel to the fire would result in your own self destruction.  All because Eddie had to go and cause a scene.  All because he had a temper that never rested even when it appeared dormant.  

“I-um, I’m gonna go get the drinks–what did–what did everyone want?”  You manage to pitifully scramble the sentence together and eventually get your point across.

“Stevie!”  Donnie interrupts, crushing the poor guy in a tight hug.  It makes you question her disgust for physical touch.  

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, a twitch of his eye only projecting a smidge of discomfort but other than that he contently hugs her back.  They begin catching up, everyone completely ignoring your request for their drink orders.  It’s not their fault you were so invisible, it was just your nature, you were always meant to be put on the backburner until further notice but for some reason it causes an extra deep pang in your chest this time.  Especially since Eddie had completely disregarded you as he jumped into the conversation.

With the tiniest huff, you quietly step away to make yourself useful behind the bar.  A pair of blue eyes follows you, considerate blue eyes that you attempt to ignore.  If you looked carefully enough, you’d see that pair of ocean blue eyes making connections between yourself and a certain brown eyed man.  You were in no mood to act as a detective though.

–

It was irresponsible.

Your track record so far was evidence enough.

But as you stared down the bottle of tequila sat in front of you, howls of laughter and echoes of inside jokes entering your ears even from the other side of the bar, it seemed like more and more of a good idea.  Or like the only idea.  

You could have one shot, just to relax the nerves, make you more approachable.  No one would notice.  You could come off as the friendly stranger in the background instead of the miserable mouse in the corner.  It was for your benefit.  Your thoughts would become less intense, your bitterness would melt away.  Eddie would temporarily become the dream boat he had previously been in your eyes rather than a mouthy douchebag, your hazy mind would erase his wrong doings if only for a few hours.  

You hope.

Or maybe you’d open your eyes and see what Eddie was seeing, had you really shown any interest in Jett at all?  Maybe a shot would be enough to introduce you to the narrative.  Maybe you should let loose and throw yourself at Jett for the fuck of it.  Bad decisions were starting to sound more appealing the harder you stared at the bottle of liquid courage.  Until your careful thought process was interrupted.

“We doin’ shots?”  

The deep but soothing voice catches you off guard, calm brown eyes and concerned brows gaining all of your attention.  They weren’t the brown eyes you secretly hoped for, even if they were the most infuriating sight you could possibly be faced with at the moment.  No, they were a lighter hue, the overhead light casting golden flecks within the irises that regarded you with genuine interest, his lips pressed together tightly as he awaits your answer.  In his hand he holds what looks to be a scotch on the rocks though it could also be whiskey, you were no expert quite yet.

“Uh…no.  I dunno.  Maybe?”  You squint your eyes painfully.  “Forget I said that.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others.”  Steve takes a seat at one of the vacant stools directly across from you.  “But…”  He clicks his tongue.  “If you are going to, count me in.”  He smiles charmingly, finishing off his drink.

“I…”  You’re about to take the sensible route, you’re so close to making the right decision.  Then again, bad decisions were far more tempting.  Especially with the help of an unaware acquaintance.  “Okay.”  You sigh, offering him a friendly grin.

Without further consideration, you pop the bottle cap off, pulling out two sparkling shot glasses and setting them on the counter confidently.  At least you didn’t have to drink alone.  

“Munson giving you a hard time?”  Steve suddenly inquires.  Your eyes nearly pop out of your head which you assume is why he elaborates.  “I know he’s kind of intense.  The first year he moved out here he was…he was so fuckin’ unhappy y’know?  And I know what you’re thinkin’: Why is this guy, Steve, who I just met, going on about Munson?”  He begins to ramble.

Slowly, you start to pour the foul smelling alcohol into one of the glasses as you listen intently.  A few drops trickle down the side but it goes ignored as you watch Steve’s every move.  He toys with the glass he’d just finished off, spinning it over and over again in circles atop the bar, a ring of condensation following.

“Don’t–fuck how do I say this?”  He pushes a weft of voluminous hair back.  “Don’t give up on him.”  Steve practically pleads.

You stop pouring the tequila, pausing to chew on your lip and look at him in confusion, which encourages him to continue.

“Look, Donnie was talking about how–how you’ve been really good for him.  And I don’t know–I just–I could sense that…you were mad at each other–you and Eddie, I mean.”

He takes your silence as a means to further explain and god, he could feel a migraine coming on just by the way he was stirring things up but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.  Not when Donnie had been so adamant about Eddie being in such good spirits since you showed up only to come face to face with an almost seething Eddie, and Donnie wordlessly conveying to him that something was wrong.

“The point is, I know that he’s an asshole, okay?  Whatever he did, I’m sure he deserves a slap to the face.  Just–don’t give up on him.”

Steve’s words sink in.  You aren’t sure what has been said but it’s apparent that the tension between you and Eddie tonight was obvious among his friends.  You ponder his request–to not give up on Eddie as you fill the second shot glass and slide it across the counter.  If anything, Eddie had given up on you by accusing you of messing around with Jett.  It was insulting and humiliating.  Dehumanizing.  

“I think he’s the one who gave up on me.”  You admit, tossing the shot back with teary eyes.

The sting spreads down your throat, the potent smell filling your nostrils as you slam the glass down.  Your eyes are glassy though you only hope Steve can gather that it's just from the alcohol and not the idea of Eddie essentially throwing whatever you had in the garbage combined with the burn of tequila.

As if caught off guard, Steve quickly throws his shot back, apparently an expert as he doesn’t flinch, only widens his eyes as he slams the glass down as you had.  He exhales heavily, nodding, thinking to himself.  You await more wise words, more advice that he had no business giving although you appreciate the sentiment anyway.

“What are you doing?”

The world feels distant and not because of the alcohol.  Your blood runs hot, most definitely because of the alcohol.  The question is asked with such outrage that it almost has you shaking.  Getting caught was more embarrassing than any outcome you could’ve imagined though you didn’t even try to hide the evidence, didn’t even go as far as to take shots in the back.  Did you subconsciously want Eddie to catch you?

“Nothing.”  You mutter, quickly capping the bottle and setting it on its designated shelf.

“I just saw you.”  Eddie grits, hands splayed out on top of the bar, his arms spread out as he attempts to keep quiet so as not to interrupt the customers scattered throughout the bar. 

Eddie’s glare burns a hole into you and maybe it’s because of Steve’s sudden advice, the fact that he felt the need to stick up for Eddie even when he didn’t know the whole situation, but you refuse to give in.  He holds a fire in his eyes that you hastily reject as you begin cleaning out the shot glasses.  It was your goal to come off as unbothered but you fear you’re coming off more as guilty.  Like a dog that had been caught chewing up the family couch.

“It was my fault.”  Steve chimes in nonchalantly.

Eddie glances over, brows knit together in irritation.  “Your fault?”

“Yeah, we were getting acquainted.  I insisted, it was–”

“Steve had nothing to do with it.”  You fess up.

Eddie’s face reveals a whole other level of rage, his eyes nearly glazing over with black.  You fucked up.  That much you could admit to yourself.  Steve appears to be panicked, his gaze glued to the bar top, his hands gripping the edge, nails threatening to dig into the wood.

“Meet me in the back.”  Eddie demands, pushing himself off of the bar.  

Terrified doesn’t even begin to explain the list of feelings coursing through you.  You’d never seen him as angry as he was tonight.  You were drinking on the job, something that in a small town usually isn’t a big deal but with all of the tension hanging in the air, you could only assume it would add to his irritation.  It would only give him more ammo against you.

Steve offers you an apologetic stare, clearly also taken back by Eddie’s irate mood.  And then, he half nods as if to wish you good luck before standing and making his way back to the rest of the group.  As you timidly step out from the bar and round the corner, you catch Nancy’s sapphire eyes before they disappear, your legs carrying you into the narrow hallway where the office was located.  Except Eddie wasn’t in there and you could only conclude that he was outside.  ‘Meet me in the back’ meant ‘meet me outside’.  Which could only mean he was about to unleash hell on you if he needed to completely remove you from the building in order to reprimand you.

You don’t let yourself prepare, you need to face him without any thoughts clouding your judgment, only further shoving you into the hole you dug yourself.  With a push to the metal door, you’re met with an aching cold, the kind that stings the surface of any exposed skin.  Immediately your cheeks burn, a few snowflakes landing delicately among your eyelashes.  You should have grabbed your jacket.

Leaning against the hay bales stacked like a Tetris game, is Eddie.  A cigarette hangs from his lips while he struggles to keep the flame on his lighter alive, the wind fighting his every attempt.  He grunts in annoyance, his head tilting toward the sky as if to personally ask it ‘why?’.  Already, his cheeks and nose are tinted pink, borderline red.  You contemplate asking if you could talk inside but you quickly bite your tongue, you didn’t want to be the one to initiate the conversation.

“What’s your problem?”  He asks simply.  As if he were asking for the weather forecast.  It’s insulting, quite frankly.

“My problem?”

Suddenly the fear that had consumed you seconds ago dissipates, no longer plaguing you and being replaced with a wrath you’re convinced no one else on the planet could pull from you.  Even worse, he refuses to look at you, keeping his stare on the cloudy evening sky.  

“Are you trying to get fired?  ‘Cause I should fire you right–”

“Oh yeah, go ahead.  Fire me.”  

He’s quiet, attempting to light his cigarette once again.  This time he succeeds, the stick catching the flame as he inhales and tucks his lighter into his back pocket.  You begin to question if he even cares about the cold until you see the goosebumps pricking across his arms.

“I should.”  He mumbles, taking another drag.

“Great!  I’m glad we’re on the same page.”  You reply, sarcasm dripping from each syllable as you rub up and down your exposed arms.  It didn’t help that you decided to wear a skirt and tights tonight either.  

Without time to process, he takes a large step toward you, his breath hot as it fans across your face.  A sense of softness flashes in his eyes before they return to the fiery nature they previously exhibited.  His cigarette idles in his hand at his side, his jaw clenched and visibly tensing before he scowls.

“Same page?”  He bites.  “The same page.”  His free hand rubs along his jaw in thought.  “Okay, if we’re on the same page then explain to me why you’re doing shots with Harrington?  If we’re on the same page then we must be reading completely different languages because you started this.”

You scoff, his statement on replay in your ears.  Each time it plays again you find yourself even more enraged.  “I did?”  You’re smiling but there’s not an ounce of happiness in your features or your tone.  

Eddie backs away, the heat from his breath is missed, no matter how mad you are and no matter how strongly it smelled of smoke.  He paces, turning around before coming full circle and facing you again, another deep drag from his cigarette indicating that he’s stressed.  Then he nods, bangs falling into his eyes as he does.

“You did.  You just–you start ignoring me, start acting like I’m not even a person?”  He points the cigarette at you and you’re starting to believe that in the midst of his rage, he’s completely forgotten about the cold whereas it was the only thing you could focus on.  Regardless, you fight through it, even if your teeth chatter.

“And, and–hold on.”  He shakes his head, curls following his movement as he rushes inside.

Great.

He left you out in the cold, literally.

You weren’t going to wait, his disrespect wasn’t going to keep prodding at you, not if you had anything to say about it.  He didn’t get to storm off and leave you outside in the freezing cold, even if you did do something you weren’t proud of.  He was probably going to wait and see how long you would hold out, how long you would sit in the cold before inevitably running in and looking for him, how stupid you would look–

The door squeaks open again, smacking against the wall as Eddie comes racing out, leather jacket in hand.  Well, if he was allowed to grab his jacket then so were you.  His cigarette hangs from his bottom lip as he begins muttering around it.

“You started treating me like I didn’t exist, I don’t know how normal people react to that but–”  He adjusts the jacket, flattening out the material before draping it over your shoulders, encouraging you to put your arms in the sleeves.  “I assume any normal person would be fuckin’ pissed so I guess I’m not–I’m just not understanding.”  He says a bit harshly.

You don’t react, frozen as he waits for you to put your arm in the sleeve.  While he’s still visibly aggravated, his eyes also communicate something else to you.  The deeper you look into them, the more his pupils dilate, a nervous gulp noticeable as he awaits your reply.

“C’mon, you’re freezing.”  He whispers, a large contrast to his previous tone.  It’s warmer, it’s familiar, it’s like home.

“What about you?”  You mumble, staring dumbly into his big brown eyes, his lashes heavy against his cheeks, unlike how they were seconds ago when he was wild-eyed and riled up.  He was still riled up, that was for sure but now…now it was diluted with something else.

“Don’t worry about me, Bambi.”  The term of endearment slips from his tongue effortlessly.  Like it was meant to fall from his lips directly into your ears.  Like it was meant for you and only for you, always.

With parted lips, you can see your breath escape into the night.  You know he can hear your labored breathing and you should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in yourself to care when his gaze softens, the sturdy exterior he had built up again crumbling just as it had that one night.

“I do worry.”  

It falls from your lips quicker than you can contain it.  You shouldn’t be offering him such compassion, not when he was so okay with insulting you hours earlier.  But pools of melted chocolate never left you any other choice but to get lost in them.  He moves in closer, ever so slightly, only enough that you feel the familiar warmth of his breath on your cheek, so that you can still make out his whole face.

“Don’t.”  He says breathily.

“Why?”

He only shrugs, his focus trailing down your face, reaching every inch.  It makes you want to shy away but you can’t, not when he looks so sincere.

“‘M sorry.”  He whispers, reaching up to brush a rogue strand of hair from your face.

Your instinct is to ask ‘for what?’, but you know better.  You don’t need to play dumb, both of you are aware of his nasty words and your tendency to take things to a level they should have never gotten to.  You’re both to blame.  But you don’t need to pretend to not know what he’s apologizing for.  There’s no pretending with him.  So you can only hope that he’ll see through to the deeper meaning of your initial question. 

“For what?”

For what?  Would he say that he’s only sorry he hired you in the first place?  Or that he’s sorry he ever met you.  Would he understand your words and be in tune enough to decipher them?

“Everything.”  He whispers.

It’s quiet, almost eerily but not.  No, it’s too peaceful to be eerie.  The first snowflakes of the season are still falling and you’re standing outside the bar with Eddie Munson, a man who was so stubborn he seemed almost impossible.  Almost, but not.  Never for you.

“Everything.”  You repeat.  And he knows he owes you more.

“Everything.”  He swallows the lump in his throat that was preventing him from saying the necessary words.  It goes down smoother than he expects.  “Every second I was ever an asshole to you.  Especially my stupid ass comment about Jett.  I-I was mad and I took it out on you.  I tend to do that pretty often don’t I?”  He laughs humorlessly.  “I don’t think less of you if you’re actually…y’know.”  He gestures vaguely.

“What?”  You ask, genuine confusion taking over your features.

For a moment, his eyes shift back and forth, as if to beg you not to make him say it.

“With Jett.”  He mumbles, gaze now avoiding you.

“With Jett.”  You repeat in disbelief.  “I have done nothing to suggest we are at all together.”  You scoff.  

“I know.”  Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s bracing for more choice words from you.  They don’t come.  “I know.  I just, he got in my head and–”

“Got in your head?” 

“It was nothing, he got in my head and got all, I dunno protective?  If that’s even the word.  He just seemed jealous, okay?”  Eddie explains.  “I know that’s not an excuse for what I said.  I’m really sorry for saying you dry hump–”

“Don’t ever use the word dry hump and Jett in a sentence where you’re referring to me again.”  You laugh.  This time humor floods through you.  His whole demeanor relaxes, shoulders less tense.  “It’s happened one too many times.”  You cringe jokingly.

“Okay, that’s fair.”  He smiles, that boyish grin returning to his face.  The one you hadn’t seen in days, the one you missed every time, the second he directed it toward you the first time.  His dimples deep, eyes shy, he still lingers close to your face, neither of you protesting the invasion of each other’s space.  “Now put your arms in the sleeves.”  He demands, tugging on the collar of his jacket still laying over your shoulders.  “Please.”  His face only inches closer to yours as he convinces you to shove your arms into his jacket.

“We’re about to go inside, I won’t need it.”  You argue, crossing your arms in front of you, a hip jutting out with sass.

“Oh okay, we’re back to this then?”  He smirks, finger grazing the button at the lapel of his jacket, almost scorching the skin of your neck.

That familiar spark ignites in his eyes, the fire that showcased so much unexplored emotion, so many uncharted territories within the man before you.  You wanted to explore them all, you wanted to hold his hand and trek across each foreign feeling.  You wanted to bathe in the sparks and light yourself on fire to speed up the process.  You didn’t just want to burn for him, you wanted to burn with him.  Your soul was drawn to him, you wanted to melt into him, melt into his touch, even if it was just his fingertip.  You’d take what you could get.  And you were really convinced that he wanted the same things solely based on the way he was looking at you with heavy eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m not done addressing my grievances with you.”  You joke.

At this, he lights up even more, his entire face exhibiting pure fondness.  His lips are so perfectly pink, a little chapped, but the sweetest pink you’d ever seen.  They were pillowy and plush and as he licked them you blinked, falling out of your trance.  Then, his hands travel down the zipper of his jacket, only touching the worn material and not at all forcing his touch upon you though he longs to feel your warmth.  

Instead, he pulls you forward by gripping each side of the jacket, leaving you no choice but to come flush with his chest.  You welcome the heat, the sudden warmth that engulfs you like a cozy blanket calms your chattering teeth.  

“Yeah?”  He whispers, nose nearly bumping against yours.  You wish it would.

“Yeah.”

Your lashes just barely flutter against his cheek, only teasing him of what he actually desires, and you don’t even know it.  He’s glancing between your eyes and your lips and your internal reaction is to scream at him to just do it.  But is that even what he’s hinting at doing?  Maybe there was something on your face.  You weren’t going to assume his intentions and make yourself out to be a fool.

He hums in response, his hands still tightly clutching the jacket, the damn jacket that you were now wishing he never put on you just so you could feel his skin, the heat of his hands against your arms.  The ache was becoming too apparent in your chest, you needed him and there was no way to express it.  You couldn’t.

He smells of tobacco and a hint of pine.  Even a tiny bit of spice from some kind of cologne you’d grown used to smelling on him.  There’s a waft of beer falling from his breath as well, not too obvious, but obvious enough that you can gather that he had at least had a beer before work or during his break.

“Do me a favor?”  He asks.  And in that moment, you would do anything.

“Mm?” 

A quick finger pokes your nose playfully.  “No more tequila.”  

You can only laugh along with him, almost burying your head in his chest but refraining as you enter your body again.  This was not a daydream and he was not someone to call yours.  Fooling yourself was only going to get you hurt.

“I’m serious, it fucking stinks.”  He scrunches up his face in mock disgust, plugging his nose, you giggling along with his antics.

With that, he pulls away, leaving you feeling frigid, already missing his presence even if he was still right in front of you.  Opening the door, he gestures for you to go ahead of him.  The atmosphere had been flipped upside down, all hostility left outside in the cold to be swept away in a snowstorm.  

–

“And then Eddie fucking jumps off his roof!”  

The bar fills with laughter, unfiltered, stomach grabbing laughter of five friends and yourself.  The regular customers had long gone and paid their tabs, leaving the bar empty and the possibilities endless as everyone shared treasured stories over beers and drinks.  Steve appears to be pleased with himself as the laughter carries on for over a minute.  The image of Eddie drunk and jumping off of his roof as a means to prove he can ‘fly’ only to face plant into the ground and be driven to the ER was somehow the best entertainment you’d been faced with in a while.  

It was mentioned that he didn’t get injured too badly and only required a few stitches above his eyebrow where you could now seek out a scar and remember this night.  The night Eddie’s friends accepted you into their circle.  Even if only for the night.

“Well what about when you got a lampshade stuck on your head.”  Eddie points at Steve with his beer bottle.

Steve only offers a disapproving expression as the giggles erupt once again.  Robin sits to your right while Nancy sits to your left.  The pair had immediately taken a liking to you and moved chairs just so you could sit between them.  It felt nice, you felt welcome.  You had no worries and nowhere to be.  And for once that made you feel alive rather than anxious.

“Okay, but can we talk about you babysitting Eddie on Halloween?”  Nancy attempts to hold in her laughter.  She had said it quietly but not quietly enough as Eddie deadpans her.  

Robin lets out a shriek of laughter, clearly intoxicated.  You can only grin at everyone’s reaction.  Steve and Dustin had gotten into some kind of a ridiculous argument and throughout the night, you noticed it was a regular occurance.  They paid no mind to embarrassing Eddie further but Nancy had no issue with it even if she wasn’t outright talking to the whole group in the first place and only you and Robin.

“What, Munson?  You got plastered and she had to save the day.”  Nancy giggles.  She had obviously been a little wine drunk, a tiny bit tipsy.

“Yes, it’s very funny.”  He says monotone.  “Can we find a new joke now?”  He asks, rolling his eyes although you know he’s only playing around, his lips threatening to pull themselves into a smile.

“It’s okay to get white girl wasted every once in a while.”  You banter.

“Oh, it is?”  Eddie raises a brow.  “It’s okay to puke all over me after getting white girl wasted?  Off of my tequila?”

The table erupts in a series of ‘oh’s’.  You could take offense.  But it was so much more fun to mess with him.

“I’m not the one who got puked on at least.”  You shrug, unbothered.

The table gets loud again, siding in your favor based on their volume.

“Yeah?”  He asks.  As if you two were suddenly the only people in the bar.  As if his friends had disappeared.  As if you were back outside behind the bar just a few hours ago.

“Yeah.”  You answer, a certain softness in your tone that only he could understand.

Nancy’s gaze flits in between you, mischief crossing her features for a brief second, you swear you see it.  But nothing comes of it as she turns her attention to the argument that Dustin and Steve had started up again.  Robin chimes in every now and then, hiccuping dramatically.  You and Eddie, though a little buzzed, can’t stop staring at each other from across the table.  His gaze is heavy and yearning but for what you’re not sure.

His bottom lip continues to get tugged in between his teeth, abusing the already chapped skin as he unknowingly communicates his nervousness.  The only thing you’re sure of is that he won’t tear his eyes away from you.  Not for Steve’s request to aid in the argument, not for Dustin’s screeching voice demanding he take his side, and not for Jett who was making it known that he was leaving for the night.  Eddie only mutters in response, something along the lines of ‘see you tomorrow’.  Steve and Dustin are too caught up to even pay any mind to Eddie’s ignorance to their debate.  Robin is in her own world, curling her legs up to her chest in her chair as she becomes fascinated with the wood grain in the table while Nancy pretends to be preoccupied with swirling the wine in her glass and acts as if she’s listening to Dustin’s reasoning, nodding every now and then.  But you notice the way her diamond eyes take in the scene before her.  And now you’re sure that she has no interest in Eddie nor has she ever shown it.  

But she does have an interest in whatever was happening between you and Eddie.  She was studying the chemistry.

–

It was 4:00 AM, the sun would be emerging just on the Horizon within hours.  An exhausted Steve lays his head on the table over his folded arms.  Drool threatens to fall from the corner of his lip onto his sleeve, his mouth hanging open as he sleeps almost like a newborn.  Every other breath a deep snore rumbles through him.

“This isn’t even the weirdest place he’s fallen asleep.”  Dustin snaps a polaroid, the flash doing little to make Steve stir in his slumber, his eyelids only twitching as he navigates his dreams.  “One time we found him under his bed.”

You chuckle at the sight, Steve had been completely hammered off of several beers and a few shots of vodka that Robin had convinced him to take with her.  The second he wakes up, he’s in for a rude awakening, you’re sure.  

“Do you take a picture every time?”  You ask as Dustin hands off the developing picture to you, only to continue getting just the shot he wanted as he crouched down to get a better view of Steve’s face.

“Of course.”  He laughs, stating it like there was no other option.

“Steve’s reputation with drinking isn’t necessarily…the best?”  Nancy speaks, setting a fresh glass of water on the table in front of him.

You’d learned throughout the night that Steve and Nancy dated in highschool and although it was a nasty breakup, they remained friends and it never was weird after that.  They respected each other as they did their other friends and it showed.  

“I mean…I don’t think it’s that bad.  He’s just sleeping.  I’ve dozed off while drunk a few times.”  You defend.

“Yeah but have you dozed off in places people couldn’t even find you until we tore the house apart?”  Dustin counters with raised eyebrows.  “He also used to reign under the title ‘King Steve’ if that tells you anything.”

Showing your hands in surrender, you begin collecting the remaining glasses from the table.  Several dozen shot glasses that had provided a good night but would surely bring on a rough morning for those that had participated.  You’d taken two shots throughout the night and had half of Robin’s Dirty Shirley that she couldn’t seem to stomach.  And she wouldn’t quit until it was gone so you humbly volunteered seeing as she was already almost obliterated, stumbling around anytime she got up and slurring every word.

Robin was now talking Eddie’s ear off as she sat at the bar, narrating every piece of her life that he’d missed since she visited and last updated him.  You could vaguely make out her explanation for still not getting her driver’s license, stating that Steve was more than okay with being her chauffeur for the foreseeable future.  Then she insisted that should she get her license, she’d be an even worse driver than Eddie used to be so it’d be in everyone’s best interest to keep her off the roads.  

Eddie hums along to the conversation, letting Robin steer the topic as he leisurely polishes the glasses he hadn’t gotten to earlier, his friends occupying his full attention a majority of the night.  An impressive pile of glasses and cups are building up on your tray, Nancy assisting in collecting what she could as she follows you toward the bar.  

“Nance!  Tell him!”  Robin whines.  “Tell him how I’m a danger to the roads of suburbia!”

“You are most definitely a danger.”  Nancy smiles softly, moving Robin’s bangs out of her eyes with her free hand before delivering the glasses she’d collected onto the counter.

“See!”

“No need to convince me, Buckely.”  Eddie throws his rag over his shoulder.  “Although I’d probably have the time of my life with you behind the wheel.”  He grins, scooping up the tray you were having trouble setting down.  “But I’d also prefer to live a little longer so you avoid that DMV for as long as you can.”

Nancy nods in agreement, taking a seat on the stool next to Robin.  As you rush around the counter to assist in washing the remaining glasses, large brown eyes follow you, as if they missed you.  Like they’d never been happier to see you.  You still shy away from them, only because you’re not sure how long you can last until you melt, until your knees collapse beneath you and you’re a puddle on the floor.

“So what’s our game plan this time for getting Steve to the car?”  Nancy asks.

“Leave ‘em here.”  Robin slouches in her seat.

“Rob–”

“I second that.”  Eddie chuckles.  

“You guys are awful!”  Nancy proclaims.

You can only giggle to yourself, bubbles coating your hands as warm water leaks down to your elbows as you scrub each glass.  A sudden hip jabs into your side, creating enough room for Eddie’s lean frame to partake in the chore.  

“What’s so funny, Bambi?”  He questions, quiet enough for only you to hear.

You shake your head, still tuning into Robin’s scheme to leave Steve behind.  She had obviously been joking, the two constantly bickering with one another throughout the night like siblings only proving so.  But she seemed to enjoy pressing Nancy’s buttons as she persisted in her idea of abandoning the poor guy.

“Nothing.”  You mutter.

Your backs are facing the two girls, neither of them able to sneak a glance at Eddie’s wandering eyes that you could very clearly spot just out of your peripheral vision.  His hands continued to concentrate on the task at hand though not very well as he scrubbed the same tiny shot glass for at least two minutes too long.

“Y’know, you’re not being very helpful.”

With a click of his tongue, he finally sets the overly-clean glass atop the drying rack, reaching over you in the process.  It only made you aware of his comforting smell that you had basked in out in the cold earlier.  You’d never imagine wishing to do dishes for the rest of eternity but here you were, hoping that an eyelash would fall onto your cheek just so you could wish on it to stay in this very moment.

“‘M not?”  He smirks.

“Nope, you’re just making more work for me.”

“Oh, you tell him!”  Dustin suddenly peaks over both of your shoulders, quiet as a mouse until he had made his presence known.  It startles you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“Henderson, don’t sneak up on people like that.”  Eddie holds a hand over his chest.

“Look alive.”  He shrugs, snooping around at the shelves that would otherwise be obscured from his view on the other side of the bar.

“Nothin’ for you back here, you’re not even twenty one.”  Eddie turns around, leaning against the sink and crossing his arms.  

“Wha-oh don’t be like that!  I only have like two more years and that’s rich coming from you of all people, Eddie.”  Dustin points a finger, sticking it harshly into Eddie’s chest.  

“Do as I say, not as I do.”  Eddie mumbles, returning to his task, snatching up the last two glasses that remained before you could, swatting your hands away.

“What’s he talking about?”  You dare to ask.

Dustin brings an arm over your shoulder, the other over Eddie’s, a huge grin plastered on his face as if he’d been waiting for you to ask the question.  Eddie only offers him a side eye, nothing malicious but a light warning.

“Eddie here used to have a big reputation.”  He explains, patting him on the back.  Eddie only rolls his eyes, clearly indicating that he didn’t have any real issue with Dustin revealing pieces of his past.

“Oh?”  You wipe your hands on a nearby rag, turning toward Dustin, intrigued.

“Yeah, he used to be the friendly neighborhood drug dealer.”

Your face doesn’t shift, only making it more difficult to gauge your reaction.  Eddie starts to fear that this was going to be your wakeup call.  Your revelation as to who he really was.  He knows Dustin meant know harm in it and to be fair, the kid had probably snuck a few beers away from Steve.  There was no ill intent, only playful banter although Eddie hadn’t anticipated how you might have felt about his previous endeavors until after Dustin spoke those words.

“Dustin!”  Robin calls for his attention, chewing on a cocktail straw.  

Without a second thought, the boy turns his attention toward the two girls sitting at the bar, making his way around to take a seat next to Robin only to assist her in some kind of party trick she had been trying to work out with a napkin.

“How’s it go?”  She mutters around the straw.

Eddie stares at the bubbles in the sink like they’re the only thing in the room, his eyes following each one drifting toward the drain and idling at the bottom of the basin as the remaining water drains.  Sparkly little bubbles created reflections in his eyes that could resemble stars.  And he waits.

He waits for your reaction, waits for you to detach yourself from him because god, he didn’t know what was happening between you two since stepping back inside the bar all those hours ago but he didn’t want it to end just because his past put you off.  It was inevitable that the single good thing happening to him would come to an end.  That this night would end.

He doesn’t expect you to shove your hip into his just as he had done to you earlier, twirling a rag in between your fingers, offering him a smirk.  

“Big reputation, huh?”  You playfully raise your eyebrows up and down.

Relief washes over him.  It doesn’t have to end.  This night isn’t over, maybe he can have whatever this is for a few more minutes, an hour if he’s lucky.  He’d delay going home if it meant you’d keep toying with him, teasing him over silly little things that his friends had told you about.  He didn’t mind, not when your face would light up at every tiny ‘secret’ you were let in on.  Eddie knew very well that his friends had been enlightening you with small details about his life back in Hawkins, about every time they’d visited Knife’s Edge, all the big moments and embarrassing drunk shenanigans.  He didn’t mind.  Because it meant that they’d already accepted you as one of their own.

“Shut up.”  He gently nudges your shoulder with his.

~end~

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[shegeekery]

Reparenting Loki

I want to talk about a dynamic in the Loki/Mobius relationship (in the Loki TV-series) that I've seen touched on but not really discussed in depth.

Note to Lokius-lovers: nothing I say here in any way precludes a healthy romantic relationship. They're both consenting adults, after all, and this wasn't a formal therapist-client relationship.

There's a technique in therapy called "reparenting". The idea is that trauma and behaviors caused by bad parenting can be addressed to some extent if the therapist assumes the role of a "good parent".

I think we can all agree that the "All-Father" was crap as an actual father. Odin knew that Loki took after him even more than Thor did, but many of those shared traits were things that he tried to hide from everyone, while Thor better represented the image he wanted to project. The result was a cruel favoritism, which was picked up by Thor and the rest of the Asgardians. Frigga's love and support wasn't enough to counteract that cruelty, particularly in a strongly patriarchal society like Asgard.

Side note (because I'm that kind of geek): there were so many similarities between Odin and Loki (Odin's friend and blood-brother rather than his son) in the old Norse myths that some scholars have suggested that Loki was at one point simply an aspect of Odin. There's also evidence that the stories as they came down to us were manipulated by the Christians who committed them to writing to shoehorn Loki into something more like the Christian Devil.

Anyway, getting back to our guys... Within the context of the TVA, Mobius represented an authority figure to Loki, who had a long history of rebelling against (or betraying) authority for obvious reasons.

I think the first turning point in the relationship for Loki was:

Loki: I am smart!

Mobius: I know. Loki is rarely left speechless, but his only response to Mobius's simple affirmation was a very un-Loki-like "Okay..." He didn't know how to respond because he wasn't used to that kind of thing, particularly from someone who had power over him. It happened again with:

Loki: A villain.

Mobius: That's not how I see it.

The dynamic between these two people throughout Season 1 was like that. Mobius's genuine love (whether you read it as romantic, platonic, fatherly, brotherly, or a mix of any or all of these) for and non-judgmental acceptance of Loki was apparent from the start, but of course Loki's experiences during his very long lifetime made it nearly impossible for him to trust that until Mobius's actions convinced him that it was real. Learning to trust Mobius also allowed Loki to see himself in a new light.

For his part, Mobius consistently modeled what a good father would have been: loving and accepting, yes, but still able to apply "tough love" when that was warranted. Mobius didn't put Loki into the bad-memory loop to punish him because he was angry (though he was angry, or at least a bit hurt and disappointed). He was just trying to force Loki to acknowledge a truth about himself so that they could move forward — and it worked!

Mobius's instincts and experience as an actual father to two boys, one reasonably well-behaved and the other a mischievous troublemaker, served him well in this, even if he didn't consciously remember his life on the timeline.

Mobius all but confirmed this when he said:

Mobius:  I see a scared little boy, shivering in the cold... 

It's also significant that when Loki brought this up later, he called it "patronizing", which we usually use to mean "condescending", but can also mean "supporting" and has its root in the Latin word "pater" (father).

I see the hug in episode 1-5 as a sign that the reparenting had taken hold, and that Loki, while not completely healed (it would take a lot more than that!), was at least in a place where he could trust someone, accept love/friendship, and think beyond his own wants and needs.

By Season 2, the relationship between the two men was evolving into one of equals, but even then Loki still occasionally looked to Mobius for guidance. Mobius's approval had become important to him. When Loki witnessed the firm but compassionate way in which Don dealt with two boys who were so like himself and Thor (despite being a stressed-out single dad rather than a god-king with tremendous resources at his disposal), he had to have seen that this was at the core of who Mobius was. Moreover, Loki — and any viewers who had similarly survived a traumatic childhood full of emotional abuse and neglect — probably guessed that Don himself was a survivor who was determined to see to it that his boys would never have to deal with that. If that was the case, then Mobius didn't just see his own son in Loki. He saw himself and couldn't help but empathize.

Don wasn't perfect. His frustration with his younger son was very evident, but Loki, observing, could see the love that lay under it. He may even have thought of times when Odin was driven to anger by Loki's actions and realized that the anger didn't necessarily mean that Odin didn't really love him. Learning to forgive what can be forgiven is another aspect of recovering from childhood trauma.

It's worth remembering that Mobius knew Loki in much the same way we do. We got to see the things that Loki never let anybody see: the fear, the vulnerability, the pain, the longing, and the sadness. (Doesn't hurt that TH can turn a simple reaction shot into a freakin' soliloquy!) The difference is that, while we only get to see the highlights (and lowlights) of Loki's life, Mobius had access to all of it and he had centuries to study it.

Mobius literally knew Loki better than anyone else in (or out) of the multiverse. How could he not love him? And for Loki, knowing that somebody who knew him that well genuinely cared so much for him (same with Sylvie, who understood him in ways that only another Loki could and vice-versa) had to have shaken him to his core and made him rethink a lot of things. The fact that it was Mobius to whom Loki turned in episode 2.6 when he thought he might have to kill Sylvie shows how much he still looked up to Mobius in many ways.

This was a show about redemption, yes, but also about healing from childhood trauma. They did an amazing job with it.

[imthepunchlord]

The Marinette Swap

Adrien version

I should wait for the Paris Special to come out first, but man, I can't help but ponder the potential dynamics and fun there could be just shuffling up the two Marinettes and fun it could've brought being in each other's own reality.

Like, Special!Marinette actually being in the canon world, and she's this way between Chloe's bullying and no one stepping up to help her, so she helped herself. She went punk/goth/emo, largely to piss Chloe off. And she's petty, jaded, spiteful, and cynical. Despite all this, she's still Marinette at the core. She's not going to turn a blind eye to those in critical need.

So she still rushes out to go help Fu, but she tells him off afterwards cause wth was he thinking. But hey, that warrants her getting the earrings. Maybe she just needs a bug to soften her up.

I don't know if Alya will become her best friend, as I don't see this Marinette backing down when Chloe tries to scare her out of her seat. It could be that Chloe begrudgingly backs down, shoos away Alya who goes to sit with Nino (or Marinette, liking her spitfire; though if Alya sits next to Nino that leaves Adrien to sit next to Marinette), or maybe Bustier intervenes and forces Marinette to sit elsewhere. Which maybe she sits either by Alya or Nino (or maybe Ivan?).

Idk, what happens in the classroom is up in the air.

Either way, Stoneheart happens, Marinette nopes out, and finds the earrings and there's Tikki telling her she's got to be a hero!

Only it's a lot harder getting this Marinette going cause no, is she crazy? What the heck even is she?

It takes the damage in the city to get worse to convince Marinette to go out and see what she can do, though she makes it clear she's not going to be a hero. She's going to pass the earrings on. Tikki will take it, desperate and pressed for time. So Marinette heads out a lot more prepared, internally panicking still, but having a better idea what she needs to do. She saves Chat, and gets Stoneheart resolved in just one setting.

Chat likes her efficiency and thinks she's cool, but man is she cold. He does call her Ice Queen or Red Queen occasionally, just to be teasing.

And responsible Marinette wants to pass the earrings onto someone she knows could be a good hero, only there's no one she really knows that she can pass the earrings onto and take this off her hands. So she's kinda stuck with it.

So this jaded Marinette is stuck working off the optimistic Tikki and playful Chat, with the former trying to help Marinette heal and embrace the role to be a hero while Chat is trying to get her to smile and loosen up and have some more faith in humanity. And she does perform her duties and she does help people, even if she's standoffish and doesn't have a lot of patience for people.

And their whole dynamic is just summed up as:

Now, Canon!Marinette in the Special's world is a little harder as we don't have a lot of info or seen much of it yet (outside leaks/rumors, but I don't know how true those are, the few I've seen anyway). So this is a little more creativity/headcanon territory.

But, Marinette's pretty happy in a Paris cared for and protected by the Butterfly hero, though she thinks he kinda looks like a loser, but hey, she appreciates what he does. She'll just keep those criticisms to herself.

So she's surprised one day when a curious pair of earrings show up and a little bug thing is like "Hey, you're chosen to be a hero!" and she's just so confused cause they already have a hero? But, if he needs help, Marinette wouldn't mind lending a hand, cause he's done so much, and it's not like she's going to deal with the heat of things, right? Either way, she's uncertain but she'll give it a shot.

And the hero is surprised, but he's open and welcoming, a tad controlling but she can tell he means well.

And she soon learns why she was out, as the "villain" they face is more powerful than even their Butterfly hero: Claw Noir.

Now, Marinette wouldn't call him a villain. But he certainly liked causing problems and taking his destructive power out on the city. If anything, he was more the city's... prankster. Just with destructive power.

And at worse, he was obnoxious, especially when he wanted to be petty and try and trip her up. It's getting to a point she's now carrying spray bottles, cause she's a busy hero and she doesn't need this. Her mentor has a lot of high expectations and the last thing she needs is Claw Noir turning the sidewalk to liquid cement and making her stuck for a few minutes.

And the biggest factor that assures her that Claw isn't a villain is the pure fact that if she's ever in a tight spot, he literally pops up out of nowhere and helps.

He is a good guy, probably just lashing out for some unknown reason. He just needs a few more squirts in the face.

[charmac]

Hi! Do you have any thoughts on Mac and Mrs. Mac’s relationship? I find the whole McDonald family dynamic so interesting, but especially after season 16/frank shoots every member of the gang I’ve been fascinated by those two. You always have such impressive, well thought out answers!

Thank you!

I do have a lot of of thoughts regarding Mac's upbringing, especially in terms of his relationships with his family and how they clearly affect his current-day relationships and misconceptions of love, but I'm not sure I've really fleshed that out so, great question.

First of all, I have a gripe with Frank Shoots Every Member of the Gang, as it really insanely retcons Luther's age. Mac Kills His Dad established that he was 59 at the time, which would have made him a teen when he had Mac. Shoots establishes that Luther's dad served in WWII and wrote him letters during that time, which means he had to have been born before 1945, and would have been at youngest in his 30s when Mac was born. It's not like it's a huge issue, but it does change some previously-thought dynamics. (Though, the fact that they weren't younger-cast in A Sunny Christmas does better-align with the idea that they were in their 30s when they had Mac.)

There was/is always kind of the vibe that when they were together, pre-Luther going to jail, Ms. Mac did really love Luther and vice-versa, and Mac was more kind of like a by-product of unprotected sex more than he was a part of the family. (I mean, they named him after the Hamburger Clown). Luther clearly love(d) him as the idea of having a son, someone who could carry on his bidding and his name, but doesn't love him as the child he actually has. I think Ms. Mac didn't love him as the idea of a son and doesn't love him as the child she has, and never did. BUT she did love Luther, and Mac observed that as a young kid, his parents loving each other but neglecting him. Looking at Christmas, we can kind of assume the order of anything in Mac's childhood home was Ms. Mac > Luther > Mac. So for his early development he was kind of sidelined, saw no love from his parents toward him, but did see love between his parents (in a definitely not healthy way, as it goes).

We know in the deleted scenes of Sunny Christmas that Mac's dad is going to prison probably right after the events of the video tape... I honestly think it's reasonable to assume that Mac's screaming that woke up the residents of the house they were robbing might have been probably was what led to Luther being arrested (with whatever warrants he had hanging over him catching up with him once he had been detained). So, does Ms. Mac blame her son for her husband being locked up for the next 25 years? Probably. She didn't even want him, didn't care for him, and then his obnoxious behaviour was their downfall.

Back to Shoots, I did really like it for what it gave us in terms of (Char)Mac childhood lore. I think it definitely wasn't a shock for them to drop the cigarette lighter line, but it was a hit to the chest for me. Everything I kind of assumed before, re: didn't want or care about having a child equated to strictly-neglectful, Mac clawing for the love he saw his mom give his dad, now with his dad gone even more-so, and being brushed off, now escalated to retaliation in response to Mac failing to be brushed off. Sometimes the dismissive, grunting and not moving from your chair approach just doesn't work on a hyperactive little bastard like Mac, sometimes you have to make him shut up by giving him something else to fuss over. I think Ms. Mac probably hoped that would be what breaks through his skin, makes him realise she doesn't love him, but Mac only sees it as a warning, a pause, a try-again-later, mom's just in a bad mood.

Presently, what we see of Ms. Mac is almost always the same: completely indifferent. Shrug, cough, I don't care at all about you. Mac's a serial killer? Yeah. Mac's dead? Ok. You're gay? Meh. She'll fuck with him though, sure: your dad is actually Dutch. You wanted these letters that meant something to your father? I needed toilet paper. Who cares. She doesn't love him, never has, never will, and Mac has no ability to understand that.

Based on his upbringing and the past 20 years, I think he has a complete misunderstanding (and at this point inability) to recognise and understand what love is, mostly because of his mother. Because she just, doesn't love him, never did, but Mac thinks that parents have to love their children, that's a fact in his mind. If he has a mom and a dad they do love him, they have to, especially when he was a little boy, right? His dad loves him, he's just in jail so he can't show it, but his mom is here. And mom did love dad, he remembers that, he saw it, so he just has to make himself known, she can love him too because she's capable of it and she's his mom. He loves her, he says it over and over, she never says it, but she just doesn't see him because she's busy, working, or making a home for him, or just for some reason she's not paying attention... So love for Mac is fighting neglect, love is refusing to be ignored, love is pestering over and over because if you can get away with your bombardment without a finger being raised, without being scored by a cigarette lighter, they must really want you to continue... they must be waiting for you to really prove yourself before they show or admit their love for you. There are people in his life who have to love him, it's like a law, so they'll admit it as long as you keep asking, keep making yourself known, keep trying to prove yourself... and if it comes to the point where you're getting burned, stop for a minute, take a step back, and reevaluate how (or when) you can try again...

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Bloody Love Letter

The overdue fluff (I tried, okay?) snippet for @thelazywitchphotographer

TW: Blood, murder mention, knife mention

To most people, the sound of footsteps padding across asphalt in the middle of the night would have been worrying, but Villain didn't exactly fit into the category of 'most' people. Besides, these particularly heavy footsteps were dragging across the street slowly, probably belonging to a drunkard, all the more reason for her not to give a damn.

Still, she decided to humour her unfortunate stalker, turning around to face them, the expression on her face something between irritable and smug, one dark eyebrow arched and a very slight upturn of her lips.

The familiar mask that she was so used to wearing seemed to practically melt into nothing as she realised who the footsteps actually belonged to: Civilian. The man was dressed in his usual business casual, a pair of jeans and a white shirt, except this time, it was more of a shredded rag of blood-stained fabric than a shirt.

Scratches and bruises littered his face, dark crimson encrusted on the corner of his lips, and he was also sporting a black eye. Except the civilian was unfazed in the slightest, as though this was some sort of everyday occurrence. "I'm sure you've seen a lot worse," he remarked casually in response to the look of utter shock the villain had failed to hide, her eyes going wide.

"What happened?" she questioned, as the muscles of her face worked to pull it into a neutral expression.

The civilian snorted incredulously. "I skipped my skincare routine, so I don't look as pretty as usual," he retorted, his lips stretched into something between a smirk and a dark scowl.

This was the kind of insolence that the villain would kill people for, but Civilian had been sharp enough to notice he was an exception, an idea that was frankly poisonous to the villain. She wished to remind him exactly just how dangerous the game he was playing was, but in his current state, it really didn't seem like the time.

So, she simply ran a hand down her face exasperatedly, "Who did this to you?" she demanded, a slight edge of well-concealed anger to her tone that she knew the man would catch.

"What I did to him. You should've seen the other guy." He grit his bloodstained teeth in a feral grin, an expression the villain had never known he was capable of, thanks to his usually mild-mannered nature.

The villain sucked in a sharp breath, folding her arms across her chest. Whatever had warranted this kind of reaction from the civilian was definitely terrible.

Or maybe, if his words and cocky attitude weren't misplaced, this was an indication that the man was a lot more dangerous than he'd seemed, and she just wasn't entirely pleased with that conclusion.

"Alright, hotshot. What did you do?" she challenged, her own piercing blue eyes trained on the civilian's sage green ones, trying to stare through him as though he was no more than a sheet of paper, as though something in his resolve would crumble.

It was the civilian's turn to take in a heavy, measured breath, his gaze refusing to meet the villain's. He seemed almost lost, for lack of a better word, worrying his lip between his teeth, his smug attitude crumbling incredibly fast. "I- killed him," he admitted, trying hard to hide the solemness in his tone with a matter-of-fact intonation, a poor cover-up he failed to paint over the nervousness.

The civilian was never the type to take risks. Before he'd met the villain, he was as cautious as could be, a normal man with a normal job who lived in a very normal neighbourhood. Or that was what the criminal had took him for at first, until she'd found out that this was merely the tip of the iceberg. The civilian had gotten tired of trying to glaze over every side of him with well-fabricated normalcy.

But to confess to murder? That was lightyears away from "trying to change things", from driving a little faster than he was used to or any of the new things he'd done after he'd known her. If there was any shred of his old self, of any basic common sense, he should've already noticed by now that there was a great chance he'd ruined his life, shredded it to pieces.

"Why?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper, instinctually feeling like she would despise his answer.

This time, there was no hesitation in the civilian's tone. "He said he'd go after you. Said he'd hurt you, and I wasn't giving him that chance. Consider it my bloody love letter," he half-snarled, his fists clenched and the muscles of his face taut with conviction.

The villain tried for a few false starts, only for nothing to come out, her lips left parted in surprise. 

At that, the civilian's expression softened into something she'd never seen before, into something she realised she wished to see more often, something that lit up his features beautifully. 

The civilian was a good-looking man, in a strangely dishevelled sort of way. Dark, wind-ruffled hair with very slight flecks of grey and unwaveringly bright tourmaline eyes that never seemed to dim no matter how exhausted he was. Surprisingly, the crimson streaked across his face seemed to highlight the high-set cheekbones; somehow rendering his current frazzled state even more beautiful than what he usually looked like.

And the realisation that she found the civilian attractive seemed to hit her like a freight train, as did any wave of strong emotion she wasn’t accustomed to. Still, the lingering tension in the air as he crossed the distance between them was very palpable.

“I love you.” The soft smile he gave her at her expression of surprise was equal parts cruel as it was kind. The villain had never been the oblivious one, the shocked audience of a plot twist. So openly vulnerable with someone who downplayed his own cleverness more often than not as a protective tactic.

But she wasn’t exactly sure she hated it. Quite the contrary. She’d evaluated their relationship as that of two unlikely friends aware of each other’s attractiveness and no more, something surface-level and entertaining, but she’d come to realise in that moment, that she’d been wrong. 

“I love you too,” she offered as the civilian’s surprisingly warm fingers skirted across her hand, and Villain tentatively got closer, her lips pressed to his jawline, almost fitting there perfectly. She didn’t mind the blood on her mouth, she probably didn’t even notice as the civilian pulled away for a moment, her breath catching in her throat until he got closer again, a soft, almost high-pitched laugh of euphoria escaping his lips as they made contact with the crown of her hair, velvet-soft and blissfully cool against her skin.  

“Do you trust me enough to let me take you home so I can fix you up?” she asked.

He pulled away again, a wild, wolfish look in his eyes. “You know, I didn’t even need a knife to kill him,” he answered cryptically, except between the two of them, this was a clear enough response.

✨Timeskip✨

"Just one more left," she said placatingly.

"Well it burns," he hissed, pulling himself away from the cloth soaked in antiseptic near his face, and yet he made absolutely no effort to stop her from pushing him down on her lap again, unless you considered a petulant mock-pout an effort.

"I'm sure you've seen a lot worse," the criminal replied swiftly, quoting him from earlier with her lip curling upwards subtly as she wiped away the last of the blood and dirt on him. The civilian looked significantly younger with all the gunk off, the white hairs seeming to have shown up prematurely, with him being so stressed half the time.

Except right now, he sported a lazy half-smile, looking at her admiringly through half-lidded eyes, lashes so enviously long they fell against his cheek when he blinked. He lifted himself upright, easily pulling her into his lap and tracing the shape of her cheekbone with his finger and then slowly kissing it. "It's never been fair, how gorgeous you've always looked, but now that you're mine, maybe it is, only slightly more just," he crooned, kissing the other cheek with a haunting gentleness that made it seem impossible that he could've killed someone, but with enough passion to prove the previous assumption incorrect.

The villain hummed thoughtfully, pulling him even closer somehow and running her fingers through his hair, smooth like strands of silk now that he'd showered. She felt him shiver, knowing full-well he was touch-starved, "It's alright. You'll get used to it."

"I will," he replied with a smirk, except he leaned further into the touch as she ran her hands through his hair and down to his shoulders, still unaccustomed but the small smile on his lips as he closed his eyes indicated his approval of the touch.

Love is not as concrete as we like to believe. It is certainly senseless to try and learn the exact mechanisms of it because only a fool would wish to learn of something that does not exist and never could. And sure, it is a terrifying product of fate, an outcome of a game where you can only control half of the moves, but still, love is such an awfully human quality; just as wild, just as unpredictable and just as beautiful. It holds the power to draw blood, to start fires but also to bring the taste of euphoria to your lips better than any drink or drug could ever hope to.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @whatiswhumpblog @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[rendy-a]

Can I get a yandere Silver or Sebek during the dance? (Or any of the other prompts if you have more inspiration for those)

Congrats of 500 followers! Very much deserved.

It was hard to choose between them. I had started thinking I'd write for Silver but somehow Sebek stole the fic! I nearly wrote a whole parent trap scenario where both try to set you up with Lilia but thought that was getting a bit too crazy. Here you go, hope you like it!

If Sebek could write you a sonnet, he’d whisper it sweetly in your ear once for every breath you took.  Sadly, as he watched you dance with another, he knew he was not yet worthy of such attention.  Not from you.  Until that time came, he’d merely observe you and your perfection from a reasonable distance.  Or at least, that was the plan until he saw the rude behavior of the rest of the hooligans you’d chosen to interact with at this so-called dance.

You were laughing at Ace’s prank, even though it wasn’t that funny.  What a night, you didn’t recall when you’d last had so much fun without something terrible happening shortly thereafter.  Perhaps that should have warned you, but you were unprepared when Ace was suddenly jerked off his feet and pulled away from you.  “Waaa,” Ace shouted as you stepped back quickly in surprise.  From behind the struggling first year, you found a gruff Sebek holding Ace by the collar. 

“Sebek!” you shout in surprise, “What are you doing?”  He moves his disapproving gaze off Ace and gives you a guilty look, “I’m only trying to protect you!  I saw what this ruffian was doing!”  Ace give another squirm in Sebek’s grip but the knight in training proves to be far stronger than he, “It was just a joke man, lighten up.”  You look pleadingly at Sebek, “Yeah, it was just some ice.  I know it wasn’t really funny but getting ice on the back of your neck is just a dumb prank, it doesn’t warrant all this.”  Sebek continues to look at you, eyes wavering, as though greatly upset at your dismissal of the injustice.  Finally, he sighs and sets Ace back on the ground, “If that is what you wish, I can hardly go against your desires.”  Then he turns to Ace and scolds him sternly, “LISTEN HERE!  I don’t want to tell you what will happen if you continue to cause difficulties for the Prefect!”

Ace gives you a look that says, ‘Sorry but this is too much for me,’ and leaves with a shrug.  You smile in resignation as you watch your friend depart, now left alone with the imposing Sebek.  You turn your awkward smile to the tall fae and ask, “So, how are you finding the dance?”  A smug expression forms on his face, “It’s a rare opportunity, so I’m enjoying it to my fullest.”  You look at him surprised, “Really?  I didn’t picture you as someone who enjoyed dancing that much.”  He scoffs in response, “Dancing? Harumph!  I mean observation.  I’m honing my skills and taking in meaningful sights at the same time.  THIS IS THE BARE MINIMUM FOR A KNIGHT TRAINED UNDER THE GREAT LILIA!” 

“You dancing or just shouting,” Jack asks as he appears at your side.  You don’t know when he joined you, but you are grateful for his arrival.  “Dancing, hopefully,” you answer your friend, “Ah, but Sebek said he isn’t dancing tonight.”  Jack puts a lopsided grin on and holds out an arm, “Well then, I guess that’s my cue.”  You sigh in relief at the easy opportunity and link elbows with the beastman.  “Sure thing.  See you next time Sebek.”  When you go to move away, you feel a hand tug on your garment.  Sebek is holding it firmly as his mouth works silently, producing no sound.  He looks as though this turn of events has taken him by complete surprise and he has no idea how to deal with it. 

Jack frowns sternly, “Let go.  You have no right to stop the Prefect from dancing with me.”  At this comment, Sebek finds his voice, “No right?  I HAVE NO RIGHT?  YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!”  Perhaps he would have kept going if Lilia had not chosen this moment to appear at his side and lay a hand on his arm.  “There, there now.  Let’s keep it friendly,” then he squeezes Sebek’s arm as a small warning, “This is meant to be a goodwill dance, after all.”  Sebek looks at his mentor in dismay before setting his mouth in a resigned grimace and releasing you.  You feel slightly guilty at how relieved you are to be pulled away by Jack but the eager intensity of Sebek sometimes makes you feel slightly on edge.

Your dance with Jack is uneventful and he leads you to the opposite side of the dance floor from where you were prior.  Here you dance an enthusiastic quick step with Floyd before he returns you to his clubmate Ace.  Ace bashfully rubs the back of his head as he hands you a drink, “Hey, if I made you uncomfortable earlier, I’m sorry.  I was just joking around.”  You give him a small swat on the arm, “Maybe it was a bit much, but I know you were just trying to have fun.”  You marvel to yourself at how quickly the rambunctious boy had come to apologize and know you that you have, in some way, Sebek to thank for that.  Although he often goes over the top, his earnestness and upright behavior occasional inspire even the troublemakers of NRC.  For that reason, you found yourself mentally forgiving the gruff fae for his questionable behavior once again.

You tip your drink back, letting the last trails of liquid slide down your throat.  Ace nods at your empty drink, “Want another glass?”  You shake your head, “Nah, one was enough for me.”  He nods in agreement before excusing himself to check in on Deuce and Grim, who are having some manner of argument near the dessert table.  You lean against the wall, cradling your empty glass in your hand and smile at the chaos that you, for once, needn’t be a part of.  It was a nice feeling to not be responsible for everything Grim gets into.

“Hey,” says a voice to your side.  You turn your head and find a student from Royal Sword holding out a glass of punch to you.  Although you did know a few students at RSA, this one was unknown to you.  You hold up your empty glass, “No thanks, I’m good.  I just had some.”  The student frowns, “Geeze, that’s rude.  I’m just trying to be nice.”  Your eyes open in surprise at the unexpected response.  For a moment, you just stare at him, speechless.  Then he grabs your hand and tries to forcibly take the empty glass from it.  You tighten your grip, not wanting to accept a drink from someone you don’t know.  This only causes him to tug harder and, when you feel your hold slipping, both glasses end up crashing to the floor and shattering.

The noise attracts the attention of what feels like everyone in the ballroom.  Your instinct is to apologize but that is the wrong move.  As soon as the words, ‘I’m sorry’ leave your lips, the RSA student scowls at you and declares, “What’s wrong with you!  See, this is why you should have just taken the drink!”  You stammer, unable to decide what to do when, for the second time in the evening, your conversation partner is hauled off his feet by the collar. 

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH THEM?  WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!” Sebek shouts at the RSA student who seems to become visibly less confident as he dangles in the air.  “Sebek! Stop!” you shout as you grab his arm, begging with your eyes for him to not make this situation any bigger.  You wanted the student to leave you alone, but this was going too far.  “You made your point.  Let’s just move on.”  Sebek sighs and sets the trembling student down with a scowl.  As soon as his feet touch the floor, the student throws you a look that is a mixture of embarrassment, disgust, and anger before he runs off. 

“Pathetic,” Sebek mumbles while subtly studying you, as though making sure you are ok.  You don’t meet his eye, searching for an excuse to avoid this sudden scrutiny.  “Ah, I better get this broken glass cleaned up,” you mumble.  Sebek grabs your elbow to prevent you from stooping over, “Bah, you’ll only get in the way.”  Then, he grimaces and kneels to start sweeping the broken glass into a pile with his hands.  “Oh!” you exclaim, “Don’t do that!  You’ll get cut.”  He gives a sudden intake of breath and pulls a hand to his chest, hiding it from your view.  “You did get hurt!  Let me see!” you scold him as you try to pry his hand open to observe.  He finally relents and you discover several small cuts from the broken glass.  “This is nothing.  I can easily handle this level of pain.  If it protects you from getting hurt, it’s a small price to pay.” 

“This is not ok!” you tell him sternly, keeping a gently hold on his injured hands, “We’ve got to get you to the nurse’s office to patch this up!”  You pull him carefully, urging him to follow you.  With a shy bashful smile, he does.  It was not often that you found your interactions with Sebek so easy, so you felt thankful he was in such a cooperative mood.  You chalk up his newfound mellow behavior as just another string of strange occurrences that happened this night.  Although it was a strange dance, you decide it wasn’t all bad.  You’d had some free food, enjoyed some jokes with your friends and even gotten to see Sebek pick some jerk off the floor by his collar and, if that wasn’t entertainment, you didn’t know what was.  You smile and hum absent mindedly as you walk hand in hand with Sebek to the nurse’s office, ending your eventful evening.

Sebek doesn’t speak again, choosing to bask quietly in your simple joy.  Your humming was like a soothing melody to his soul, proving all his efforts had been rewarded.  Yes, he’d had to purposely injure himself on that broken glass but now he was able to walk by your side.  He’d suffered a trial and finally earned a small amount of your attention for himself.  He cradled his wounded hand like a trophy, proof that today he was worthy. 

[iosagol]

second time watching OTGW and I might be losing my mind

I'm just rewatching this masterpiece most certainly NOT on internet archive and certainly probably not silently dying because the first time I saw this I only saw the way Wirt's selfishness was being pruned out of him by the Fae world, and I only saw the grief on the Woodsman's side, but there's so

There's so much else to see on the second time through

Like the frog? George Washington? Being able to speak English when all the other frogs can't and yet not being able to speak English when it's just him and the humans? He's sort of a look into Greg's point of view? And he's this point of weird messed up communication because he's something Wirt and Greg were supposed to find together, hunting frogs like bros n stuff

But it was kind of half done; Wirt didn't want to be a part of that adventure and he was focused on Sara for all of the duration of it. Greg did most of the work, so that's why Washington reflects him most (he can communicate to everyone, but those of his own species speak a different language than him and seem to miss his points)

I'm sorry I'm thinking too hard into this but BUT IT WARRANTS THIS

AND THE WAY THAT UH

THE BELL GIRL

SHE'S KIND OF A FORESHADOWING TO THE WAY THE LAMP HANDLES PEOPLE

HOLDING ONTO HER ILLNESS AND TRYING TO DROWN IT WITH WORK ONLY MAKES THINGS WORSE, JUST AS HOLDING ONTO GRIEF AND TRYING TO DROWN IT WITH WORK  MAKES IT WORSE

SHE AND THE WOODSMAN ARE HORRIBLY ALIKE BUT WIRT TRUSTS HER MORE BECAUSE SHE RESEMBLES SOMETHING MORE HUMAN

AND THAT NEEDS TO BE SLAPPED OUT OF HIM, THE FAE CANT OPERATE UNDER THAT

Also I didn't realize how much Wirt actually seems to love Greg

Like yeah he's selfish

But that's very much towards the back half of the episodes, and by then he's genuinely had his trust shattered and he's struggling to carry burdens and Greg doesn't get that because he sees the world completely differently, he's got zero preconceived notions burned into him

Wirt has notions, he's old enough for it

And he's kind of hampered by them

Only looking at this twice did I actually see the fog that he steps into in the eighth episode, the genuine fog, and how he kind of shuts down

It's... depression?

And Greg's response is that of a kid who doesn't understand depression in the least because he just isn't old enough to have run up against it yet

I get the sense that Greg asked the lady of dreams to make him take Wirt's place, or something like that, but he has no idea what he's stepping into

Greg is so much smaller and it's really not his role to be the big brother

The beast (who could represent a whole host of stuff like depression? Fear? Self-flagellation?) demands he do impossible things and reach impossible goals and Greg does them at first but then he gets so worn out because it's so hard to sustain a beast like that

So he ends up completely immobilized by these vines of atrocious levels of fear? And he's so tiny? and he's never been through something like that

While Wirt, for all his faults, is hardened by his failures and fears to the degree that he can look his grief in the face and say "I'm not indulging you; your move."

Faerie changes Greg in a sense because it exposes him to realities that he doesn't fit, but he really doesn't seem to retain the effects of these negative realities. That or they simply don't affect him back in the human world. I mean Greg is a champ at seeing eldritch terrors and going "aw hey there, Barnaby! :D" and moving on with the retention span of a happy cucumber so maybe he just did that again. Maybe he still doesn't necessarily get the line between a bad dream and a deep truth. But I kind of get the sense he wasn't as deeply affected because the trip into Faerie wasn't for him.

Wirt, though, went through the classic Faerie-story process of being taken down to his lowest point in order to find himself, and that experience absolutely stayed with him.

I just remembered that Wirt and Greg jump out of a cemetery as the first step to get into the Unknown and the way it goes is Wirt cries "that's it, this is the end" like the drama queen he is and Greg immediately interprets this and jumps off the wall a moment before Wirt does

Greg knew a moment before Wirt moved that Wirt was going to jump, so he jumped first

He never ever hesitates to follow/lead his brother into deep trouble because he

Greg just

He has no concept of fear

Sssssssssaaaaaaaaa

They enter through water, and when they go back, they're returning through water.

It reeks so hard of baptism/rebirth symbolism and I'm scrambling to grasp all of it

Also the fact that Quincy Endecott has a gravestone in that cemetery

So he really is a ghost, humanly speaking ❤️

Mm

Yeah I just really love this show to my bones and I cannot wait to look into more of it and scrape more thoughts together

[maddstermind]

Hey there, howdy, hello! Welcome to my writeblr that I am going to try real hard to be active on!

I'm Madd, they/them, and while I might not post it all here, I am a very active writer hoping for publication in the near future! I'm hoping to become part of the community, so feel free to tag me in things/shoot me asks/anything of the sort!! I'd love more writer friends :>

(Also, this is a sideblog! My main is warriorblood1, so if you get random follows/likes from that account, that's me!)

Want to know more details? Keep reading!

What do you write? I write all kinds of things! I have ideas in honestly too many genres and whatnot at this point, and I hope to someday write them all!

Right now, however, I have two main focuses: spooky short stories, and a novel series! (Though I do have a couple other novel things.)

Tell me about the short stories. My short stories tend to be 3k to 5k on average, and most wind up being horror or horror-adjacent. I tend to describe them as being "Twilight Zone-esque," but most would fit as being called gothic horror.

I have previously published some short stories, but my full legal name is on them so I hesitate to link them here. Regardless, I hope to publish a collection sometime soon!

Tell me about the novel series. Auberon Academy is a four-novel series told through a rotating POV of four main characters. It is a fantasy setting (though a bit more modern fantasy; more or less 1950s tech-wise), but the plot is more of a mystery/thriller.

I'm querying the first novel and have the first draft of the second one finished, and am now starting to draft the third book! You can learn more about the first book, Manifestations and the Missing, here in this funny slideshow I made. Update: Here's a slideshow for book two, In Pursuit of Knowledge!

What do you do besides writing? Not much. Just kidding.

I'm bad at video games, but I love to play them. A favorite hobby of mine is tabletop role-playing games, my favorites being Call of Cthulhu, Blackbirds, Dungeons & Dragons, and Vampire: The Masquerade! I also love to draw, and several of my story ideas are actually comics!

But lets be honest. Torturing my characters (canonically or otherwise) is my favorite thing to do. What kind of writer would I be if I said anything different?

How do you tag things?

General writing: #madd writing

Prompts: #prompt response

Tag games: #tag game

Ask games: #ask game

Asks: #questions

Resources: #holding

Short story work: #short story

Novel work: #novel work

Auberon Academy-specifc: #boberon

Soulbearer-specific: #sogbog

DIIE-specific: #DIIE

Conspiracy Gang-specific: #nerdy prudes

My art: #madd doodles

Other writeblr-related things: #writeblr stuff

Also, this post has the list of character tags for Auberon!

I'll also try to tag anything that feels like it should warrant a trigger warning!

Anything else to note? I'm very nervous about posting my work to Tumblr (fear of theft really gets to you), but I'm trying to overcome it. That being said, you might not see too terribly much of it here - if you're really interested, please reach out to me! I'd most likely be happy to share more on a more private level.

Also, I have ADHD! I tend to hyperfixate on my own work (which is a nightmare but also useful), but if you're ever confused by something. That's probably why.

Thanks for being here, y'all!

[agentrouka-blog]

I think Arya was too young to quite understand that Jon being a bastard meant her father cheated on her mother. When she first realizes that, she is so angry she 'others' Jon, by thinking of him as a 'Snow', not a Stark. She doesn't even understand the concept of cheating, for her the mere idea that her father ever loved anyone other than her mother is enough to warrant this reaction. Keep in mind that this was the sibling Jon was the closest to. Now imagine how it must have felt to Sansa, who is the ultimate romantic. Arya's knee jerk reaction is quite similar to Sansa's in that regard, distancing herself from Jon, even in just thoughts for a moment or two (then she decides to never think of it again, its probable her response would've been even more visceral, had she not been undergoing such trauma alone and they all were at Winterfell, happy). It is clear that the children, though they loved Jon, struggled with their father's supposed infidelity, when they came to understand it: Bran and Rickon were too young to realize it, and we see Arya's reaction when she understands it, we know Sansa distanced himself from Jon when she understood it and we don't have Robb's pov, but we see him marrying Jeyne to avoid another Catelyn and Jon situation with his own wife and child. Jon's existence was an emotional conflict, not only for Catelyn and Jon, but for the entire family. I love RLJ because it resolves this issue.

I very much agree with you about Arya and how this is a traumatic realization for her, about Ned and about the idea of what her family truly is. It's a form of family trauma, especially because Ned made it impossible for any of them to form context for it. It's shrouded in forced silence, a dark dirty secret they are not allowed to work through by talking about it. So it comes out in indirect, sometimes damaging ways.

On the other hand, I don't think there's much evidence that Sansa reacted in necessarily the same way (deliberately othering Jon or being angry at him), since all we have to go on is that she called him "half-brother" when she understood what "bastard" meant. In all contexts she actually expresses sympathy for Jon in a way that contradicts blame or contempt. It's unlikely she would have had no understanding of him having a different status at all before this realization hit home, so I think Sansa's greater focus here would always have been Catelyn and Ned specifically. The power imbalance between her parents is made brutally clear. Sansa would have trouble coping with that contradiction to their otherwise loving marriage, and be seeking refuge in an idealized, better future for herself through the idea of true love and romance.

[runnning-outof-time]

A Day At the Races | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - part of @look-at-the-soul ‘s 500 followers celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy decides to spend a day at the races and meets a woman who reminds him of who he used to be.

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking

Word Count: 4013

A/N: this story takes place after the events of season 6. There are no direction mentions of what happened, instead I’ve only alluded to them. Also I envisioned a slight age gap between Tommy and (Y/N) but it’s not explicitly mentioned so you don’t have to read it like that.

A/N 2: this was so fun to write ... I’ve had the idea of showcasing Tommy at the races for a while but had no idea what direction to take it in, so thank you for this inspiration, Mar! Congrats again on 500! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

For the first time in a long time, maybe even ever, Tommy Shelby was going alone to the races. He always had somebody with him; even though the reason behind the accompaniment differed based on who it was.

Sometimes it was Charlie Strong, who'd come along to see how the competition fared. Sometimes it was Arthur, who'd join to make sure that the trackside bets were still coming in steady...after all these years, the Shelbys still held a firm grasp on the races. And then other times it'd be Lizzie. She'd come when they'd decide to use the event as a sort of a date...where they could go and try to reminisce on days gone by. Key word being 'try'. A handful of times, he even brought Charlie and Ruby...he wanted them to see one of the ways their father made his livelihood, and he hoped that having them around the tracks would make them want to venture into working with horses someday.

But now everyone was gone and Tommy was alone. The situation wasn't a complete lost cause though. There was some sort of thrill of attending the races alone after all of these years. It'd be different than the past times, and he didn't want to admit it, but he was excited for the event. It was a chance for him to get in touch with his roots once more...to go back to a time when he was just a bookmaker from Birmingham and no one knew the man who had a determination in his heart and a fire in his eyes.

"Mr. Shelby," yet another younger man greeted him with a subtle nod of the head as he walked past. Tommy only nodded as he continued on his way through the concourse. This was commonplace at the track now; he'd been around long enough to gain the respect of practically every derby-goer.

"Mr. Shelby!" his name was called out again, but this time it was said in a way that warranted a response.

Tommy turned on his heels to see an older, stout man approaching him with his arm outstretched, like he was trying to get his attention. "Yes?" Tommy questioned, racking his brain but coming up with no possible names for this man.

"Mr. Breckenridge," the older man introduced himself, extending his hand for Tommy to shake, "you have a horse running today?"

"I do not," Tommy shook his head, his hand falling back down to his side, "just here as a spectator."

"That's a shame," Mr. Breckenridge said with a shake of his head, "Sunny certainly earned her fair share of winnings. She was a favorite of mine."

A bit of a frown formed on Tommy's face at the mention of the horse...the horse that Ruby had named. "She certainly did," he agreed with the man, trying to keep his composure as he nodded once more, "and she was liked by many."

"Oh she sure was," the man agreed with him, the grin on his face showing Tommy that he did a good job at hiding his shift in emotions. "Say, have you ever..."

"Please, I just want to go in. I could have sworn that my name was on that list...could you please just check again?"

"I'm sorry, miss, but there's no one by the last name (Y/L/N) on this list."

The conversation Tommy was having got interrupted by another, one that was coming from the closed doors that led to the exclusive suites. Mr. Breckenridge stopped talking at the sound of it and merely glanced over in the squabble's direction before going back to speaking. Tommy, however, kept his focus on the younger looking woman who was trying her hardest to get past the two bouncers; who were not hearing any of her pleas.

"Please?" she tried again, the slightest bit of desperation ringing in her voice.

"Excuse me," Tommy then said to Mr. Breckenridge, suddenly feeling the desire to go and learn more about this woman's predicament for some odd reason. Breckenridge nodded and that was all Tommy needed to leave the conversation and walk towards the problem. "Oi!" he called out as he got closer, his voice stopped one of the bouncers from telling the woman to leave yet again, "what’s the problem here?" he asked as he came to a stop in front of the three.

"This woman's insisting that she be let into the suites. She's not even on the list," one of the bouncers spoke as if the woman wasn't even present, holding up his clipboard for further measure.

Tommy glanced between the three people before his eyes fell onto the woman. She had a pleading look in her eyes as they hooked onto his, and as she stared at Tommy, he started to feel something inside of him. "She's with me," he then told the bouncers, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"Oh...Mr. Shelby, we're so sorry. We...we didn't know," the bouncer with the clipboard immediately went into damage control.

"Just let us in, ok?" Tommy ignored their apologies, nodding to the door that was quickly opened for him and his new acquaintance. His hand softly touched the woman's lower back; his way of telling her to enter first. "After you, love," he told her, and she finally got over her initial shock of the situation and walked inside.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly as she took in the room that she never thought she'd be able to get into. Her pale yellow dress and overly-simple plumed feather hat looked raggedy compared to some of the things that these people had on. She kept looking around in awe until she felt a hand on her elbow. "Huh?" she asked, her gaze being pulled away from the grandeur to look at the 'Shelby’ man that had managed to get her into the room.

"Act like you're supposed to be in here, come on," he told her before nodding his head in the direction of the bar that was situated further in the dining area of the room. (Y/N) only nodded before she let him lead her deeper into the suite, which now looked more like a banquet hall to her. "Would you like a drink?" he asked her once they were standing at the bar.

(Y/N) leaned herself against the bar top and looked at the man who'd brought her there with widened eyes. She was still trying to process how she managed to get in here. Then she realized that he'd asked her a question, so she snapped herself out of her thoughts and nodded slightly, "yes, a uh...a gin and tonic I guess," she answered him. The man nodded before he waved over a barman and promptly put his order in. "Who...who are you?" she then asked him, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Tommy chuckled at her question, just now thinking of how confused she may be by all that had happened. "I'm Tommy Shelby," he introduced himself as he fished his cigarette tin out of his pants pocket, "you?" he figured he'd ask as he went about rolling one against his bottom lip and lighting it with his lighter.

(Y/N) blinked a few times, his name processing in her mind. "(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she then answered his question, "your horses have raced in this derby before. Are you running one today?"

He shook his head at her statement, "no. Just came to watch," he then grabbed the whiskey he ordered and brought it up to his lips, taking a drink before setting it back down on the bar. (Y/N) also took a drink from her glass before deciding to keep it in her hands. "Any reason why you were trying to get into this section?" he questioned her after a few moments had passed.

She thought about her answer for a moment before shrugging her shoulders slightly, "not really, no. You always hear about the exclusive suites and the things that happen inside of them. I figured I'd try and experience it all for myself."

Tommy couldn't help but chuckle at her statement. He liked the confidence that she had. "I guess I'm happy to be helping you then," he stated, stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar before he downed the rest of his whiskey.

"That was a real nice thing you did for me back there, Mr. Shelby," she smiled at him, truly thankful for him giving her this opportunity. If it weren't for his interference, she probably would have been kicked out of the event altogether.

"Don't mention it," he shook his head before looking around the room that was starting to fill up with other rich derby-goers. He then looked back to (Y/N) and raised his eyebrows slightly, "you're in here now...is there anything else you want to do?" he asked her before even thinking about what he was saying.

(Y/N) pursed her lips and looked around, thinking about the offer for a few moments. Then a smile formed on her face, "I've heard that the food served here is much better than what is served anywhere else in the event."

"It is," Tommy nodded. He didn't know that because he'd tried it, but instead because every person he's dined with had raved about the food.

"Would you like to get something to eat before the races start?" she asked him, her eyebrows raising slightly.

"Sure," he nodded again before motioning for her to begin walking. She smiled at him and stepped away from the bar, feeling tingles shoot through her body as his hand landed on the small of her back again. She couldn't shake the feeling, even though she knew it was just so that he could lead her through the people with ease. She quite liked it. "Table for two," he then told the maitre d who was standing at the reception podium.

The man looked at the two of them, his eyes focusing on (Y/N) for slightly longer as he looked her up and down with a hint of disgust in his eyes. "This way," he then waved them along before walking into the dining area. "Does this table suit you, Mr. Shelby?" he asked as he motioned to a table in the middle of the room.

"Something more private would be better," Tommy voiced his opinion and within seconds they were walking again.

"Of course, Mr. Shelby, I'm sorry," the man apologized as he then brought them to a table that sat right up against the windows that faced the track. "Is this better?" he then asked, a hopeful look on his face.

"This'll do," Tommy nodded. (Y/N) didn't miss the relieved breath that left the maitre d's mouth as he nodded and then told the couple that someone would be over to wait on them shortly.

"Why was he looking at me like that?" (Y/N) couldn't help but ask once they were both sitting.

"Like what?" Tommy questioned, his brows furrowed slightly.

"He was looking at me with disgust," she told him, trying to stop the frown from forming on her face.

"It's probably because you don't look like you're supposed to be in here," he answered her in a candid tone.

(Y/N) glanced down at her dress, which looked normal at best, and let his words sink in. "You're right, I guess," she then shrugged her shoulders as she looked at him again.

"I think you look fine...couldn't fuckin' care less about what you're wearing," Tommy stated, "people in here hold everyone to a higher standard though."

"I understand," (Y/N) nodded in agreement with his statement, "and thank you, Tommy," she added, smiling at him. Tommy gave her a closed-mouth smile as the waiter came over and took their order. "You're not getting anything?" (Y/N) asked him once it was just the two of them again.

"Not hungry," he shrugged his shoulders.

"But you've ordered another whiskey," she pointed out.

"Guilty," Tommy raised his hands in surrender, his gesture making (Y/N) giggle, which in turn made him smile. Silence fell between them as (Y/N) looked around the room in awe. Everything in the room had an Art Deco style to it and there were hints of gold and black everywhere. It looked exactly like what she pictured Gatsby's home to look like from F. Scott Fitzgerald's book.

"Isn't this beautiful?" she couldn't help but ask after she'd been looking around for some time.

Tommy glanced around the room before his eyes settled on her. "It's fair," he shrugged slightly. His tone wasn't exactly uninterested, but it certainly held less marvel than hers did.

"You're used to all of this I bet," she pondered.

"I guess," he shrugged his shoulders again, "you get used to it after awhile." The food was brought to the table then, and (Y/N) graciously thanked the waiter before she eagerly began eating. "Where're you from?" Tommy asked her after a few moments passed. He had his drink in his hands, his finger absentmindedly tracing the glass's rim.

"Some no name town," (Y/N) responded, wiping her mouth with the napkin, "I don't have much to my name. I bought this ticket with my last week's wages and decided to come and pretend like I was living a different life," she then told him some of her backstory.

Tommy nodded along as she spoke, once again noticing the spark of confidence in her eyes; the same spark that he remembered himself having...before all of the money and the status that came with it.

"Is there anything else I can have brought to the table, Mr. Shelby?" the waiter asked as he glanced between (Y/N) and the man he was addressing.

Tommy looked at the woman sitting across from him before giving his answer. She smiled back at him before gently shaking her head. "We're good, thank you," he then told the waiter.

"Shall I bring the bill to your table?" the waiter asked.

"Put it on my tab," Tommy waved the man's question off, watching as he nodded before leaving the table.

"Thank you for this, Tommy, really," (Y/N) thanked him yet again for how gracious he was being, "it means a lot to me that you'd sit here while I ate...even though it was obvious that you wanted to go."

"Obvious, eh?" Tommy quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes," (Y/N) nodded her head with a slight laugh and a smile.

She was going to say something more, but an announcement rang out through the room's speakers. It was one of the track officials saying that the main races were about to begin.

"Just in time," (Y/N) clapped her hands together as happiness spread through her body, "I'll let you go now and return to my seat for the rest of the event. You've been so unbelievably kind to me in letting me join you here."

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows at her statement. Was she saying goodbye to him? "You're going?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she answered as if it was obvious, "I figured that you'd want to watch the races by yourself."

"You can't come into the private boxes and not watch the races from here," he told her, speaking like she had committed some type of crime.

A surprised expression formed on her face as she took in his words. "Are...are you saying that you want me to watch the races with you?" she practically gasped.

"Why not make the most of it, eh?" he sent her a smile as he held his hands out to the sides to physically make the 'why not?' expression.

If she was excited before, now she felt like she could scream out in happiness.

"Shall we go?" Tommy then asked her, making her realize that she hadn't said anything.

"Yes, of course!" she responded, trying to keep her cheeks from heating up as she stood from her chair.

"Follow me," he told her, nodding his head in the direction he wanted them to go. She nodded before moving to his side and allowing him to lead the way. Somewhere in their trek, he placed his hand against her lower back again. There was no surprise that jolted through her this time; instead, she'd grown to be comfortable with the feeling. And she still liked it.

"Oh wow," (Y/N) gasped as they came to a stop at the balcony of the private suites. It had a beautiful view of the track, and she could clearly see where the horses were being brought to the starting gates. "I would come to every single one of these if I had a view like this," she stated, her comment making Tommy chuckle.

"It is a good place to watch the races from," he agreed with her as he fished his cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He placed one between his lips before offering one to her. She politely declined, but watched as he lit his. "You have any bets placed?" he asked her after taking a long drag and blowing the smoke away from them.

(Y/N) laughed slightly at her question, "goodness no. I have no money, remember?" she reminded him jokingly. Her expression told Tommy that it was ok to chuckle at her words. The two then leaned against the balcony and watched on as the last of the horses were brought to the gates. "Have you?" she asked him after a few moments had passed.

"Placed any bets?" Tommy checked before answering. She nodded so he continued: "no. My men are the ones taking the bets...and I know which horse will be winning."

"Tommy Shelby, are you fixing races?" she asked him in a hushed tone as she turned to look at him. There was an excitement in her eyes that Tommy noticed instantly, and he felt himself getting sucked into her gaze. He couldn't stop the feeling that was rising inside of him.

"I may be," he answered her, staying mum on the topic as a grin formed on his face.

(Y/N)'s grin only widened as she heard his response. "Then maybe I should have placed a bet," she said, then knocking his arm with her elbow. Only then did he manage to rip his eyes away from her and focus on the track as he brought the cigarette back up to his lips. "Who's winning this one?" she asked him, curiosity evident in her words.

"Golden Gate," he answered nonchalantly just as the gun fired.

(Y/N) kept her eyes glued to the track and watched as the horses galloped as hard as they could. In the end, the announcers are going crazy over the fact that the horse named 'Golden Gate' had come from behind to win the race. Amidst all of the fanfare, she turned to look at the man standing next to her with wide eyes.

"Told you," was all he said, his grin still present as he kept his eyes focused on the track. (Y/N) only shook her head and silently cursed herself for not having any money on her...for if she did, she'd be leaving this place rich.

They stayed out on the balcony for some time and watched several more races go off. Before some of them, Tommy would discreetly tell her which horse would win, and then (Y/N) would look over at him in shock when it did. She then questioned him on why he only knew some, to which he told her that his men had only fixed some of the races in their favor.

It then got to a point where there were only a couple races left. (Y/N) turned to Tommy and leaned up against the railing before she spoke: "we should go have a dance."

Tommy was taken back by her sudden suggestion. "I don't dance, love," he told her, hoping that she would get the hint and drop the idea.

But she was persistent. "Come on, Tommy...everyone dances at the races," she was starting to resort to begging, the puppy dog look in her eyes.

Tommy pursed his lips as he thought about the suggestion. He'd given up dancing a long time ago, when he realized that nothing good came out of it and that it’d be better just sitting on the sidelines. But something felt different now. After spending most of his day with this woman, he felt that there may be something good to come out of it. So with that in mind, he nodded his head.

“Yes?” (Y/N) asked, checking to make sure she saw correctly.

“Yes,” he affirmed, watching as her smile grew larger.

“Oh that’s perfect,” she cheered. This time she was the one to lead him to the dancefloor and instead of his hand being fastened to her lower back, it was now holding hers. The smile was still present as she turned to face him and assumed the proper dancing position. They swayed to the slower-tempoed song being played; effectively feeling like they were in their own world despite being in a crowded room. “There’s nothing better than a parting dance, isn’t there?” (Y/N) softly questioned as she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him once more.

“Where will you go after this?” Tommy asked her.

She sighed at the thought of going home. “I’ll try to catch a cab and hope that the driver is nice and spares a ride for me.”

“You can stay with me,” he offered, then wanting to kick himself for how quickly he’d responded.

“Really?” she asked him, her eyes sparkling from the lights overhead.

Tommy took a deep breath and nodded his head. “Really. You can stay the night with me and then I’ll take you home tomorrow...free of charge.”

“Oh I couldn’t accept that,” (Y/N) was quick to say, her heart swelling at his offer.

“‘S not a big deal,” he waved her off, shaking his head slightly.

“Tommy...” she sighed, wanting to pull her eyes away from him, but she was unable to.

“You’ve made my day unexpectedly better. My plan was to come to the races alone, but then I found you and...shit, (Y/N), I don’t think I want you to leave just yet,” he told her, his hand squeezing hers gently as a smile threatened to pull the corners of his lips upwards.

Unsure of what to say, (Y/N) decided to let her actions do the talking. She held his stare for a moment longer before she managed to slip her hand from his and bring it up to his cheek. Before anything could be said, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. She pulled away before Tommy was able to deepen it, making him exhale a soft grunt as his abandoned hand fell to meet the other on her waist.

“Should I accept that as the answer to my offer?” he asked her in a soft voice.

“I think you can,” she responded with a smile, her hand caressing his cheek as she watched his eyes flit down to her lips.

A slight grin formed on his lips as his eyes met hers once more. Without saying anything else, he leaned in and kissed her again. This kiss was more passionate than the last one and it worked effectively in sucking them deeper into the trance the other created.

“Should I accept that as your reaction to my answer?” (Y/N) mimicked him once they pulled away.

“You should,” Tommy answered definitively, his hands squeezing her waist as she giggled at his words.

He never would have expected it, but Tommy knew for a fact that he’d never have to attend the races alone again now that he had (Y/N) by his side.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @easilyobessedbutflighty @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

MASTERLIST

[art-blogge]

Unscheduled Update

"You'll be traveling by Warp Train," had been Vergilius' entire explanation before kicking everyone off of the bus. No one seemed bothered by this, but Dante couldn't help but hesitate. They'd spoken to the team's W Corp identities- They had a reason to be concerned. Didn't monsters roam those trains?

They grew even more concerned when Faust stopped them before boarding.

"Faust needs you to wear something, Dante," she stated. When Dante leaned down, she flipped open the panel on the back of their head and plugged something in.

"Consider this mercy, Dante. The last thing Faust needs is you overloading your memory card and brain."

<"Huh? Huh??"> Wasn't this a ten second trip?! If Dante was concerned before, now they were downright terrified.

Don Quixote eventually dragged Dante onto the train, being the only one actually able to catch Dante when they attempted to flee the situation. She was unfortunately Very Fast, and Dante was Not. They continued trying to escape as Faust handed some paperwork to a nearby W Corp employee before boarding the train. Everyone involved completely ignored Heathcliff's repeated attempts to playfully shove Meursault onto the tracks.

Yi Sang lightly patted Dante's shoulder and said something to them, but Dante processed none percent of it in favor of dreading the trip. They could only manage to weakly tick <"Okay…"> in response to whatever Yi Sang had said.

"I shant wait for our due arrival!" Don cheerfully announced, dragging Dante into the waiting train. There was nothing Dante could do to stop her- They had the Captivity debuff and couldn't take action until they were released. Around them, the other Sinners picked seats and sat down with far less concern. It was only a ten second trip, why would seating partners matter?

"Faust has something important to say," Faust plainly stated, turning around in her seat to see the other Sinners, "Faust hopes you are prepared for what is to come."

Well, now Dante felt even Worse™. Whatever was coming was bad enough that it warranted Faust warning not only them, but the other Sinners too. They couldn't help but shudder in their seat.

"Why is my seat glowing?" Sinclair quietly asked.

"What the hell is this glowy shit?" Heathcliff loudly asked.

As general unrest rose among the Sinners, Dante glanced towards their own glowing seat, which soon enough died down. They didn't get to comment on it themselves though- The train began to move.

"Ten seconds!! Count!!" Don exclaimed, and Dante opted to humor her by counting down. When they reached zero, they looked around. The train was still moving. Had they miscounted? How embarrassing for a clock to miscount. Dante opted to try again, pushing the idea of things going wrong out of their mechanical head.

"Thirty seconds now," Meursault stated, preventing Dante from making a third attempt, "We have not arrived."

"We aren't going to for quite a while," Faust stated, standing up from her seat and smoothing out her coat. "It's ten seconds in our world. WARP Corporation uses an alternate dimension. Faust recommends getting up and meeting other passengers. It is going to be quite a while. Faust knows this, of course."

Faust then ignored all other questions and left the train car, leaving the other Sinners scrambling to figure out what was going on. Dante opted to tune the Sinners out in favor of gripping their own head in panic. Dante should have paid more attention to the W Corp identities whenever they spoke to them! Why else would Meursault's W Corp identity speak about personally collecting body pieces?

"M-Manager Esquire, wh-while I am impressed with thy feat of strength, please do release me..!!"

Dante hadn't even realized that they'd started clinging to Don like their life had depended on Don suffocating and immediately released her. Oops.

<"Whatever you do, Don…">

Dante didn't get to finish speaking again, fully due to Don running out in excitement to meet other passengers (and probably start a fight). This needed to stop happening. What kind of Manager doesn't even get to finish their own sentences? At this rate, they wouldn't even be able to finish their own thou--

----

--ghts. One moment everything had been fine, the next there was a large splattering of blood on the wall in front of them. Dante blared in alarm and jumped out their seat, wildly looking around. They hadn't SEEN anything happen, so where had that come from?!

"Faust predicted this as well. Welcome back, Dante."

Dante whipped around (a little too fast) to spot Faust leaning against the opposite wall. She'd been injured in the.. What, past ten minutes? That Dante hadn't been looking, and her hair was a mess.

"Do not attempt rewinding here. That may interfere with W Corp's technology." Before Dante could even consider responding, Faust added "Faust feels it necessary to inform you that it has been a full year."

A brief pause for Dante to numbly nod. A… A whole year? Just like that?

"Faust's device is working as intended. Full prevention of memory card overload. Faust originally wanted you in first-class so that you could sleep though all of this, but your head is incompatible with the pods."

Dante could feel the clock hands starting to spin with their own mounting confusion. There was a time and place to panic and this was not it. This was not it. This was absolut--

----

--ely not it.

<"Wait.">

They were staring at a bloodied ceiling now, the only sounds being the train moving and the dripping of blood. Dante didn't want to look away from the ceiling. If the CEILING was covered in blood, how was the rest of the train car?

"W.B.," Ryoshu hissed from nearby, and Dante couldn't help but jump again. Again with the being startled by someone speaking to them! This was already getting old.

"I have created true art, Dante. P.W.I." (Please Witness It.)

Okay, they were about to see gore.

<"Thanks for the warning,"> they ticked, before turning their head to the side to peep the horror.

It was far more gore than Dante had been prepared to see. A mess of moist entrails and limbs were carefully pinned to the wall and nearby seats, matching a Ryoshu that was primarily a walking mass of fresh meat. The worst part? Everything pinned to the walls and seats were still very much moving. Hands were trying to free themselves and each other from oppressive nails. Organs pulsed rhythmically, glistening in the flickering florescent light. Ryoshu simply grinned. Dante felt their stomach swirling and quickly looked back at the ceiling.

<"Very nice, Ryoshu,"> was all they could manage before needing to repress the urge to vomit- Not that they could. Could the next year come any faster?

----

Apparently, yes. The ceiling was suddenly clean again, and the nausea had subsided like it had never been there to begin with.

<"What this time…?">

Sitting up and looking around, Ryoshu's makeshift art exhibit had vanished and been cleaned up- and so had any other blood and viscera in the train car. A welcome relief, but that managed to only concern Dante more. People had definitely been here and Dante hadn't been aware of it… Had anything happened to them during that time?

Dante very carefully inspected themselves and their clothes. Beyond the dried bloodstains on their uniform, nothing seemed off. Good. That's how they liked it. The little bit of dried blood was tolerable and could be dealt with later. Dante then thought about leaving the train car. They hadn't seen outside of this car yet, but this seemed like the safest place to be. Combined with them repeatedly fainting, it was probably for the best that they stayed put.

They could get used to this. It couldn't be much longer-

----

-Pain pain pain pain pain PAIN!

Dante failed to hold back a blaring scream of agony. This was worse than anything they'd felt before. Even reviving all twelve Sinners from complete annihilation didn't hurt this badly! Fearful, Dante attempted to sit up and look at themselves.

Guts and gore were familiar to Dante, but not… Not their own.

They'd been torn to shreds. Only some of their torso and left arm were still intact. The various organs Dante couldn't name were still moving, even with some of them scattered about the floor. Their own heart started beating faster and faster, speeding up with their own mounting horror.

<"HEEELLLP!!"> Dante screamed, alarms blaring so loudly that it hurt.

They couldn't see it, but they heard a door open. Okay, good, help had arrived…

----

Their vision was suddenly assaulted by all sorts of colors. Something was in front of them, unmoving. The pain had not ceased, either. It had actually gotten Worse in the interim and Dante couldn't help but make a pained whine.

Everything shifted. More colors and oddly enough, chunks of meat. Another shift, and they realized they were being carried. What kind of Abnormality had them?? Where were the Sinners? Smeared on the walls of other train cars, probably. Either way, things were not getting better. It's not getting better! It was now worse!

Dante shuddered, and things painfully shifted yet again. They hurt so badly that they couldn't even process the voices they were hearing. They were dead. They were so, so dead….

--------

"-Nine, ten!" Don cheerfully counted, and the train came to a stop.

"That wasn't so bad," Sinclair muttered, worming his way out of Rodion's arms. Don turned to Dante to tell them the ride hadn't been so scary, but Dante had either fallen asleep or fainted within those ten seconds.

"Faust figured this was a good time for a system update," Faust stated, calmly reaching around to pull her device out of Dante's head. "My fault."

Several Sinners complained about this, not that Faust really cared. She knew the device had done its purpose, amd she had no intention of explaining its real purpose. Instead, she gave a single order.

"Meursault, could you carry them?"

Without comment, Meursault went and picked up their Manager. No response of any sort. They really were out cold. Meursault took a few moments to consider the best way to carry Dante, extra consideration being given towards their head and neck. In the end, Meursault opted to just carry them in his arms, their head against his upper arm.

"Could you take any longer?" Heathcliff teased, not expecting an answer.

"This is the safest way to carry them in their current state," Meursault began, watching Heathcliff carefully to gauge if he should keep speaking. No negative response, so he proceeded to explain his thought process. It was too late to stop him now.

--------

Dante woke with a start, half-prepared to scream. A sharp inhale and... This was a different ceiling.

Still deep in Panic with negative sanity, Dante flung their arms around whoever it was sitting next to them. A Sinner was alive! Human!!

"Good morning Manager Esquire!!" shouted Don Quixote from her place on Meursault's lap. She thought absolutely nothing of the situation and moved to hug her beloved Manager Esquire. Meursault himself didn't move, currently being held captive by his Manager. He also stayed quiet to let Don Quixote keep yelling.

"It truly hath been a ten second journey! We were tasked with observing thy reaction to thee upping of dates?"

She seemed unsure about that last part, so Meursault took over explaining.

"Faust stated you were given a data update during our trip and that you needed to be watched in case of negative effects. You do not seem well."

Dante stared at them, still shaking. What? What?

<"What? That can't be what that was….">

They ignored Meursault repeating what he'd said. It'd been far too real to just pass off as a side effect from some update. Anyway, Faust had never given them an "update" before!

<"Faust said it was to stop my head from getting fried…. And that if I'd b-been in first class, it wouldn't have worked right…">

The slight stutter in their ticking betrayed how scared they still were.

"Correct."

Faust had leaned into the room, her face neutral as always. Dante whipped their head around to look at her so fast it hurt their neck.

"Your current head did not play well with the Warp Train. You are unharmed and the Sinners are unharmed."

Dante didn't respond to that. They knew what they saw. They knew what Faust had said thirty seconds into the trip. But did Faust?

Perhaps not. They'd have to ask the W Corp identities more questions later. More detailed questions. Perhaps they could try asking that poor W-Corp employee Abnormality the next time they saw it. It couldn't hurt to try.

"I do believe we shalt use this Warp Train again!" Don Quixote announced cheerfully, and Dante couldn't help but immediately blare that they refused. Absolutely not! Never again!

[mycenalucentipes]

Ghosts || Draco Malfoy x Reader - Part 2

summary: Although your tragic ending lead you to being a ghost of Hogwarts, you managed to befriend Draco Malfoy. He would spill all of his secrets and worries to you. You would tell him little stories of you time alive. However, now that the Battle of Hogwarts is beginning, you have no idea what will happen to the two of you.

warnings: swearing, violence, war, explosions, mentions of death, rape, abuse, blood, ummm just lots of angst and sadness :)....

word count: 3,390

a/n: Idk how to summarize lol. I know I've title it as a Draco x Reader, but I don't really see them in a romantic sort of relationship? It would be too cruel to make them fall in love for each other I feel lol. There's going to a third part. I'm not sure how long though

Ghosts: Part 1

As Snape’s brisk footsteps echoed through the bathroom, you instinctively hid behind one of the stall doors, still a little afraid of the stern professor. When Snape entered, seeing your lifeless form, his gaze softened as he sighed and kneeled down for further inspection.

“That unfortunate girl,” he murmured with a deep tone before standing up again. 

“Professor Snape?” You poked your head around, slightly startling the potions master. 

“Ah, Miss L/n. You’re still around,” he replied, trying to play it off as if he wasn’t startled by your sudden appearance. “I offer my condolences for your… unfortunate fate. May I ask what happened? Mr. Malfoy merely informed me that a Gryffindor boy was responsible for a murdered girl.”

With a solemn nod and a pained expression, you mustered the courage to tell the horrors of your ex. “It was my ex, Evander Gallo, he strangled me to death. He was an abusive bastard that wouldn’t let me go. I’m not really sure why.” You left out some more of the explicit details, not wanting to fully share that with a professor. Perhaps you might’ve still been alive had you managed to alert a professor of the ongoing situation. Your ex never let you get by with anything, therefore deeming it impossible to try. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Why didn’t you alert a professor? Surely one of us could have helped. Such reprehensible actions would have warranted immediate expulsion.” Snape sighed again as you looked away, feeling ashamed all of a sudden.

You shook your head sadly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t. He had his eyes on me 24/7. Anything I did, word got back to him. I would’ve been dead much sooner had I told anyone.” Snape didn’t quite know what to say to this. 

“There’s no need to apologise. You did nothing wrong.” Snape spoke in a soft and apologetic tone, not meaning to make you feel ashamed of the situation. “Miss L/n. I will come by later with Professor McGonagall. Please tell her as much as you can about this boy. The more evidence we have, the easier it will be to expel him.” With that, he gently levitated your body, taking it elsewhere for proper care. 

“Thank you professor!” You called out as he was halfway out the doors already. 

That evening, you spilled everything to Professor Snape and McGonagall. They stared back, horror in their eyes. How could they not have noticed? Your ex was incredible about not showing any signs of it in public. He kept you in his grasp for far too long that he left you without a fighting spirit. You were sobbing by the end of recounting your time alive with him. 

In the end, they both agreed expulsion was the best possible action. You felt as if a ton of bricks were lifted from your chest. You were so overjoyed that there were others willing to take your side and believe in you. You felt free. 

–==--==--==--==--==--==--==--

About a week later, late in the evening, Draco comes into the bathrooms, seeking your company. This time, he just wanted to catch up and hangout, an escape from the troubles going on in the school. 

“Oh! Hello, Draco. What brings you in at this hour?” You inquired, gracefully floating towards him from your perch on the mirrors. 

He offered a slight smile. “I figured I would come in and check on you.” You felt warmed at this action. He actually wanted to come back and talk to you! You smiled brightly at him and he felt his own heart swell with warmth at your cheerfulness. It was the first genuine, happy smile that decorated your face. Given your first meeting circumstances though, it made sense. 

“Thank you for alerting Professor Snape last time. He and McGonagall came and helped deal with my circumstances. They were so supportive, McGonagall especially. Now he’s expelled!” You cheered excitedly. “I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest. I would hug you if I could, haha.” Draco softly chuckled back.

“That’s good to hear, Y/n. I’m glad that prick won’t be around anymore. He really was a wretched git, wasn’t he? Figured he was just another annoying Gryffindor.” Draco smiled back at you, “When they announced his expulsion, the loudest cheers actually came from the Gryffindor table… I wish… others would have spoken up for you.” He added with a hint of disappointment. 

You gave a sympathetic look this time.

“I assume he was probably a prick to the other students, but he kept the abusive, predator side out of the public eye and only with me…So there really was no hard evidence for his expulsion.” You sighed. You seem to be sighing a lot, maybe one day you wouldn’t.

“I just wish it didn’t take the death of you for him to get expelled.” Draco mournfully replied back. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright now, we can’t change the past events. We’ll try to move on from here I suppose.” You said, trying to change the tone of the conversation. Of course, you would take a while to heal from 5 long years of torture, but this week was a joyous one for you. “So, what’s been up with you?”  

“Not much different from the same situations,” Draco hummed, reluctant to sour the mood again with problems you both already knew about. 

During Draco’s time spent with you, he talked freely and without hesitance. He would trust you until the end of his time. He quickly learned how you loved talking about the candies from Honeydukes and the feasts served in the Great Hall for holidays, usually the desserts. You certainly had a sweet tooth. You expressed with bittersweetness that you would miss being able to taste the sweet flavours of Honeydukes’ treats. 

He loved hearing you talk and ramble about the small joys you had managed to find out of life. It was like a breath of fresh air for him. He asked if you had ever been able to travel before. You excitedly described your time on the east coast of Ireland. 

You talked of how dawn’s sunrise kissed the water, offering it a soft hue of pinks, oranges, and golds. Wisps of scattered clouds brushed the horizon with gentle shades of blush and apricot. Then there lie the tranquil rolling hills and the verdant valleys. The rays of sunlight gave the emerald green vegetation a soft, golden glow. The luscious grass swayed gently with the ocean breeze, glistening as the dew clung to the blades. 

You whispered that it was the only family vacation you had been on, but it was one of the most beautiful places. You wished to go back there someday. 

In exchange, Draco would tell you of his family's travels. They had been all over England mostly. You loved hearing his stories and was always astonished at how much money really could buy you. You asked him about his favourite foods from each place he visited. Then asked about their pastries and candies. You would then sigh saying how you wished you could drink a nice warm butterbeer. 

Another time he visited,he inquired about your time alive at Hogwarts, but not pushing for you to tell about your ex. You still had at least a few fond memories. 

Most of your favourite times were the times you spent alone, enjoying the little beauties the castle had to offer. You often roamed the halls in the early morning, brushing your fingers across the old stone walls, watching the sunrise seep through the windows and getting lost in your own thoughts. The mornings before breakfast were always peaceful. Very seldom did students wander around that early, opting to stay cosy in bed longer. 

You also spoke of how you loved sitting out by the Black Lake while reading a good book. The wind would gently blow against your face and the sun kissed your cheeks. Sitting in the soft grass, you would imagine your life as if it were going how you wanted. Or would make up your own fantasy scenarios that would put a small smile on your lips. It was your form of escapism. It was the only coping mechanism you knew would make life just a little more bearable.

In the middle of reminiscing, Draco interrupted with an abrupt question. 

“Are you able to move on? Um– I mean, from the ghost life?” 

You sadly shook your head. “I don’t think so. I did not think that I chose this life, but before I knew it, I woke up here, staring at my dead body.” You sighed quietly and huffed with slight amusement. “Though, if I could leave, I would definitely move on. I don’t want to be a bitter ghost here forever like Myrtle.” 

Draco was unsure if it were an appropriate time to be chuckling, but nodded along anyway. “If I find a way to send you off, I will make sure to come back and release you.” He offered a small smile. You looked to Draco knowing these chances were slim to none (he knew as well), but still comforted by his words nonetheless. 

“Thank you, Draco. That means so, so much to me.” 

–==--==--==--==--==--==--==--

The last time during that school year that Draco visited the bathrooms, he was in a panic. Just like the first time you met him. (This time, no new dead body to greet him). He briskly walked over to the sinks, breath heavy, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

He stared into the mirror for what felt like seconds, he felt like a serpent was constricting his chest. Ripping his sweater over his head, he threw it to the side, not caring where it landed. By now, you had wandered out from a cubicle, wondering if it was Draco again. 

“Draco?” You called out with a wobbly voice, “What’s wrong, Draco?” You asked in a clearer voice this time. He wouldn’t respond to you. He rubbed his forearm hard against his tears before bringing it back down to the sink. He gripped the edge of the sink so tightly, his knuckles turning white. 

Just then, you hear more footsteps slowly approaching. In the mirror, you could see that the approaching figure was Harry Potter.  Draco didn’t notice as sobs wracked his frame.

“I know what you did, Malfoy…” Harry said in a low tone, “you hexed her, didn’t you?”

Draco’s head shot up and snapped towards the source of the voice. His eyes were frantic and fearful for a second before turning angry.

Before you knew it, Draco quickly drew his wand, firing off a wordless spell. You gasped in horror, not wanting anyone to duel and get hurt or worse. Harry managed to dodge the spell, only to throw one right back at Draco. He also managed to dodge the spell, running towards the cubicles. Harry followed suit. 

You let out a cry of fear, wanting to help, but feeling so useless. You were but a ghost, you couldn’t really do anything, couldn’t protect either of them. Spells kept getting thrown back and forth. Water was bursting from the now broken pipes. 

“Sectumsempra!” You watched in horror as Harry landed a hit on Draco. Without thinking, you tried to step in the way of the spell. Though it hit you, it still went right through your misty form, sending Draco flying back. You winced at the sight of a spell being thrown at you, but only for a split second as you heard Draco’s body hit the ground.

Fearing the worst, you made a dash to go find the nearest professor should anything happen. Professor Snape happened to be heading in the direction where the duel happened. 

“Professor! Please, I need help! Draco and Harry, they– he��, in the bathrooms, please help!” You frantically cried out, so panicked that forming sentences was difficult. Only short bursts of panicked words fumbled out of your mouth. Snape understood though. His pace sped up as he took longer, quicker strides to reach the bathrooms. 

Frantic sobs escaped your lips as you watched the blood pour from Draco’s body, a pained expression painted across his face. Harry stood there, just staring at the scene unfolding. Snape rushed to Draco’s side, kneeling down and whispering the counter spell. 

As his low voice chanted vulnera sanentur, the blood that once marbled the water on the bathroom floor began returning to the cuts on Draco’s body. Draco’s whimpers and groans of pain soon quieted as he fell into unconsciousness. 

“Ms. L/n, I will be taking Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing now,” Snape muttered while carefully lifting Draco’s unconscious form. You quietly thanked him as he walked out of the bathrooms. 

With a blank stare, you perched yourself atop one of the sinks, thinking back to the events that just happened, the fear, the violence, it couldn’t possibly become any worse, right? 

You sat like that for a while, listening to the water drip and flow from the still broken pipes. Eventually another professor had come in and repaired the broken pieces, paying you no mind as you still sat on the sinks. You weren’t really sure how long you sat there, but it was very dark outside when your mind finally released you from your spiralling thoughts.  

“I think I’ll go visit Draco,” you whispered to no one in particular. You braved leaving the bathrooms to fetch help, you could make it to the hospital wing, couldn’t you? The other ghosts of Hogwarts–minus Moaning Myrtle– could all roam free, so why not you? 

Cautiously, you peeped your head through the door and slowly, but eventually slipped your whole figure out. Once you were out, you peered down at your misty form, smiling that you had left the confines of the bathrooms. 

Everything was calm, night time was always so peaceful. It was almost serene to just float around the empty corridors. The moon shone brightly and the stars twinkled in all of their glory. A soft breeze blew every now and then, making the leaves quiver and the grass sway. Oh how you wish you could feel these little things again. 

Before you knew it, you were hovering next to Draco’s bedside, his expression looked so peaceful. You assumed Madame Pomfrey provided him with potions to help any pains and for a peaceful rest. Looking at the clock on the table, it showed it was nearly four in the morning. The dark blue night was not so deep anymore, but fading into a purple hue as the time ticked by. 

A couple hours had passed by the time Draco’s eyelids fluttered open. He was a bit dazed as he tried to gather his surroundings, unsure of where he was. Without turning his head, he let his eyes slide over to the right of him. He was met with your silvery form, deep in thought, not paying any mind to him. 

“You came.” He said, though it came out as more of a question than anything. 

You startled from your thoughts, “Oh! You’re awake! Are you alright now? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt still? Shall I grab Madame Pomfrey?” You couldn’t help yourself as questions fell from your mouth. Though you quickly slapped your hands over your mouth, squeaking out a muffled ‘sorry’ as Draco slightly smiled at your embarrassment. 

“I’m alright now I suppose. Thank you for coming. How did you leave though?” Draco asked, his brain finally processing that you had actually left the bathrooms. Over the weeks he got to know you, you had not once left the bathrooms where you met your tragic fate.

“You know, I’m not actually bound to that bathroom, right?” You giggled at his question. “I suppose I was just afraid to leave… or maybe I wasn’t ready to face the rest of the world and accept my fate.” You looked down, feeling a little embarrassed about your hesitancy to leave. 

“Oh, I–” “No, there’s no need for any apologies! I feel much better about my situation now though. I feel lighter. I feel more free. Now I’m wishing I actually was free and not stuck here on Earth like this.” You cut Draco off before he could begin any sort of apologies. You had enough of those and didn’t feel like hearing more. You laughed a bit as you expressed your thoughts out loud though, “I can go play with the other ghosts of Hogwarts now. Maybe that will be alright.” 

A genuine smile dawned on Draco’s face as he gave an airy chuckle. “Yeah, go and make some ghost friends. Oh how they grow up so fast!” You punched him in the arm, though your fist went right through, but the gesture made Draco laugh harder. He was glad that things were turning brighter for you. 

–==--==--==--=The Day the War Started=--==--==--==--

Draco was back in your bathroom, ranting, rambling, pouring his heart out to you again. Though you had the option to leave the bathrooms, it was your home base for now. You figured eventually you would choose somewhere else though. Eventually the horrific memories would plague your mind and you would need to escape them, but for some reason, you felt drawn to the bathrooms still. Perhaps, because you died there, your soul and body were somehow connected to the location. Who knows though?

“Y/n, there’s a war coming. Voldemort and his army are already on their way. Y/n, what do I do? I don’t want to face this. I don’t want to have to choose between the innocent and then my parents. I can’t–” Draco would cry if he hadn’t used all of his tears up in the days before. He couldn’t sleep, barely ate, and did not attend his classes since he was stuck at the Malfoy Manor. 

You were at a loss for words, unsure of how to help. The war was coming, there was nothing you or anyone could do to stop it. So you silently sat on your sink, listening to Draco with sorrowful eyes, wishing you could help ease his worries. 

Just as he was going into another rant, a loud explosion startled the both of you into complete silence. Dreading it wasn’t what you thought was happening. 

“Draco, you have to go.” You whispered sadly. He searched your eyes for any reassurance or hope or anything that might give him a clear answer. 

“Will you– will you still be here?” Draco’s voice, raspy from sobs and screams, wavered as he asked in a quiet voice. A sad smile formed on your lips.

“Of course silly. I don’t think I can just disappear,” you laughed slightly and reached for his arm. He felt goosebumps form where your fingers grazed through his arm. “Go, you’ll find your way.” 

He nodded at you, fear, panic, sadness, all mixed into his expression. His stormy grey eyes watered as he looked at you one last time before turning to head out and join the oncoming war. 

Only moments later, you heard what sounded like Death Eaters swarming the hallways, throwing violent spells at anyone and anything in their way. 

Then only a minute later, half of the ceiling and wall came crashing down next to you. Though you were a ghost, you still jumped away, the rubble startling you as it came crashing down. 

The once repaired pipes were now burst again, water flooded the floors once again. You could see out into the hallways now, watching as students swarmed in panic, trying to escape the grasp of Death Eaters. There were students duelling adults twice their age with more magical experience than them. Spells were flying, more walls came crashing down. None of it sparing students and adults alike. 

Everything was so brutal and cruel. The world was cruel. 

Unable to bear watching more death and injury, you fled from your half destroyed bathroom. It was just wishful thinking, but you hoped Draco would come find you, to show you that he was still alive and fighting. It was just wishful thinking though. You didn’t have the bravery to go watch the battles yet. Without being able to help, it was unbearable to watch students sacrifice their lives like this. 

Just wishful thinking.

[fallingwaynes]

chapter 1 of my fic!!

“the pact of our youth”

yes the title is based of achilles come down by gang of youths hehe

Growing up in the circus was a challenging task, especially with the amount of performances and training everyone was expected to do in a day. It was especially challenging for a child, for you and your only other friend. Dick Grayson.

He was the circus’s golden child, being the only child acrobat. You were a golden child as well, being the only child with tarot reading abilities. It was highly likely that the only two children in Haley’s circus would become friends. And you two became best friends.

If anyone was to ask Dick about you, his little face would light up and he would explain excitedly about how amazing you were. He especially pointed out the times where you did your tarot readings on him and they came true. And if anyone was to ask you about Dick, you would nod shyly and talk about how his acrobatic powers would soon outshine his parents. You truly believed he would be the best acrobat in the circus.

When you weren’t doing tarot readings for paying customers or for other circus members, you were spending time with Dick. If your mother needed to find you, all she had to was visit the Grayson’s caravan or in the close area. You would always be there, giggling at a joke that the other eight year old made.

That’s where she would find you today, holding his hand as you stared at his palm. She knew, as well as you did, that you had no ideas how to read palms. This was just a simple way to humour the young acrobat; he giggled as you ran your finger in circles on his palm.

“It says that you’re have the most amazing best friend ever.” you spoke, nodding all serious like. He widened his eyes, before erupting into giggles.

“Does that mean I’m going to get a best friend?” he was teasing you, and he giggled as your face scrunched up in a frown. “Kidding, you’ll always be my best friend.”

You dropped his hand, crossing your arms with a huff; you smiled though. “Good, we should always be best friends, Dick.” Then you giggled at his nickname, he giggled too only because your laughter was contagious.

Your mother cleared her throat, turning the attention of both of you to her. “Mom!” you scrambled to your feet, and wrapped your arms around her waist. Dick stood up also, waving at your mom. She smiled sweetly at the boy, sending him a wave back and then wrapping a single around you.

“Hello, Richard.” she was one of the few people in the circus that refused to call Dick by such a nickname, and he had grown accustomed to it. She frowned apologetically between the two of you, and looked over at the approaching figures of his parents. “I hate to break you two apart, but there’s another performance tonight.”

Dick nodded understandably, turning around just as his parents reached where you all stood. They nodded at your mother, she returned the gesture. “Bye, see you later!” Dick smiled brightly at you, before placing his hand in his mom and dad’s and retreating back into his caravan.

〰☽◯☾〰

That night was the worst, you couldn’t even have used the tarot cards to read an event like this happening. Your mother had sent you to fetch more cards so you hadn’t seen it happen but you had come back to everyone crowding around the acrobat area. What could have happened to warrant such a response?

You made your way over to see what had happened, your mother was too shocked to even notice. Dick was kneeling on the floor next to two bodies. His parents’ bodies. You gasped, running to hug him; he sobbed into your shoulder and a few of Gotham’s elitists cooed in adoration.

“My parents.” he sniffled, resting his head against your shoulder and grabbing onto your hand. At this moment, while he was devastated about the deaths of the two most important people in his life, he was glad his best friend was there.

“I’m so sorry, Dick.” you whispered, running a finger in circles on his palm. You knew it wouldn’t make him laugh like earlier, but you at least wanted it to bring him some comfort for now. You stared up at the crowd, most of them were being ushered back to their seats by the Gotham police.

Dick continued sniffling, but some of his sadness had turned to anger. “Someone murdered my parents, and I’m going to make them pay.” he muttered, before glancing once more at the corpses of his parents. “Make them pay.” he repeated, just as a cop approached the two of you.

“I’m sorry about your parents, kiddos.” he looked between the two of you, and you shook your head quickly. The cop, the Commissioner you guessed by the badge pinned to his jacket, nodded understandably and crouched next to Dick. “I’m sorry about your parents, son.”

Neither of you knew the best course of action in a situation like this. Would someone in the circus be willing to take on Dick, so that he could continue to become the best acrobat in Haley’s circus? You didn’t want him to leave the circus, but you knew deep down that it was most likely the best idea for him after such an event.

You turned as your mom called out your name. She stared down with pity at the crying state of Dick, and you rushed into her open arms. “Mom, what’s going to happen to him?” you whispered, watching as the cop placed his jacket over your best friend’s shoulders.

Your mom sighed softly, it wasn’t easy having to admit that Dick would have to leave the circus and enter the foster care system. “He’s going to have to live with someone else, my little fortune teller.” she whispered to ensure that the grieving boy wouldn’t hear it.

Judging by the way he placed his hand into the Commissioner’s, the news had been broken to him and he had accepted it easier than it was expected. If the Commissioner and Dick had stayed a moment longer, they would’ve noticed Gotham’s richest playboy staring at the young boy with a frown.

You noticed however, and you began to wonder if Dick would at least be in the hands of someone who could afford all of his needs and wants. You just hoped you would be able to see your best friend before he left the circus forever.