#i listened to it like 8 times in a row while holding back tears

[kimjunnoodle]

last song you've been obsessed with? 🖤🖤🖤

Promise Me by Badflower!! It's so good and oh boy the first time I heard it was when i was reading and it went so well w the story and I took permanent damage :) 10/10

Honesty Hour!

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Chapter 8

GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER That's right, after being out of commission for a couple months, chapter 8 is FINALLY finished.

AND I HAVE SOME GOOD NEWS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO'VE BEEN ASKING FOR IT:

Where the Stars Don't Shine is finally posted on ao3! The new chapter is here!

I am so so so sorry about the wait, so I made it extra long just for you guys! As always, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly, welcome back to the slumber party, I saved yall some front row seats! (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!) Anyways, hope yall enjoy this, and without further ado-

On with the show!

Word Count: 4,962

-------

All your excitement during your encounter with Sun vanishes when it becomes clear just what sort of day it’s going to be.

You had a bit of a mixed bag in attendance today. All your regulars, plus a couple new faces here and there. It started out okay, really.

And then one new kid in particular showed his hand and cemented his legacy as one of the most spoiled children you have ever had the dishonor of meeting.

You try not to dwell on it and just move on, but this kid…this kid is awful . Pushing other kids around, turning his nose up at snacks and eating off other kids’ plates, ripping the heads off toys…

(You really have to remember to bring your sewing kit next time.)

You know it’s not the kid’s fault for his behavior, more of the people who raised him, and you try not to hold it against him, you really do. By the looks of it, Sun is trying, too, but both of your patience is drawing thin.

You draw the line when he tears out a page of your books that one of the other boys was reading.

You remind yourself repeatedly that you are not allowed to punch a child. 

You do put him in time-out, though. And you can guess by this kid’s behavior that their parents are going to raise hell about it.

You discover some hours later that your assumption is completely correct when said parent comes in later to pick up their child and you confront them about the brat’s behavior, to which their response is an offended gasp and a rant about how awful your work ethic is and you’re not providing enough care this is why people like you are in jobs like this you’re lucky you’re even employed that makes the brick walls behind security desk that you have the strong urge to slam your head into all the more appealing. You stand there with a polite customer service smile and take it like the valued employee you are while trying to remember what temperature human flesh burns at before chastising yourself, until you’re thrown back into reality and catch the tail end of what she says. 

“-and are you even listening to me right now? Ugh, you’re even denser than the robot, at least it can do its job right. You’re supposed to be the competent worker and you’re being beaten by a walking junkyard pile-”

Yeah, nope, not this again.

You bristle at her words, gritting your teeth slightly and forcing your smile to maintain itself. If it looks slightly more manic than intended, that can’t be helped, but you had always been good at playing the part of someone weaker than you. “I’m so sorry you feel that way, ma’am. I’m sure you can leave a review regarding our services on our website if you’d like. However, Fazbear does not tolerate abuse and slander of any of its staff. Thanks for stopping by and have a Faz-er- iffic day!”

You slam the door in her face just as she opens her mouth (likely to respond with another offensive remark) and dust your hands off in satisfaction. It’s not the first time someone’s come to complain about you and your coworkers. In truth, the company probably couldn’t care less how the clients treated their workers and their ‘property’ as long as they got paid. Slander against you, you could understand; you signed a contract and sold your soul away. One of the agreements was to deal with annoying clients. But the other two? They had been built for this, any complaint against them was the fault of the company itself, and besides, you couldn’t see them as anything other than people since the moment you’d spoken to them. After all, a company probably wouldn’t leave a prerecorded message expressing immediate hostility towards its employees on their first day of work, now would it?

They had to have some level of sentience to make that decision.

You mark off the last child with a pleased grin. At least with the way she’d reacted you could guarantee that neither the harpy woman nor her little satan spawn son ever set foot in the Daycare ever again.

You do unfortunately still have to clean up the carnage left behind, though. You grab a broom and a dustpan, ready to sweep up the crumbled play-doh and ripped stuffing from earlier, back straightening with a sharp inhale when the lights cut off. Not terribly uncommon, but it still left you uneasy. Moon didn’t get to do his little song and dance during naptime because you were preoccupied punishing a rulebreaker, and you’re pretty sure he’s fixing to dish out his skewed idea of justice one way or another.

Lo and behold, the tell-tale click of a wire descending directly behind you gives away his intentions. 

“ Aww , thank you for defending our honor so nobly , little knight,” he croons mockingly. You don’t even have to turn in his direction to know he’s fanning his faceplate and fake swooning in a ‘my fair maiden’ pose. You say nothing, just sweeping stiffly under his suspended shadow and inspecting the floor. You’d have to bring out the vacuum for the carpet, plus a mop.

You miss his frown at your evident disinterest. 

“So brave, to come to our aid when we were utterly defenseless ,” he continues, picking a small bit of clay off your shoulder and flicking it aside. “But you know, you seemed to have forgotten what I told you earlier…”

He pauses, seemingly waiting for some response of probing to continue. If he is, he’ll be sorely disappointed. Though you’re usually the one after them for conversation, you’re in no mood for it after the day-no, the week, the whole damn month , really- you’ve had. You just want to go home, take a shower, and sleep for an eternity. 

His frown grows further in distaste, and he decides to grab your attention by gripping your shoulders tightly and lifting you a few inches off the ground. Your previously unfocused gaze now snaps to him, alert and on guard.

Wuh-oh.

That’s more like it.

“We do not need your help ,” he sneers, shaking you by the front of your shirt. You blink and gulp nervously, unsure as to where this is coming from. You feel the worst of your nausea as he starts to raise you towards the ceiling with you hanging onto his wrists tightly.

“Moon…” you speak warningly, a shot of nervousness streaking through you as the ground grows further away. His only response is a sadistic chuckle, and the delicately crafted facade over your sickness accumulating from over the past few weeks worsens exponentially. Your stomach lurches and you hazard a quick glance down. You’re hanging a good thirty feet above the ballpit and still steadily climbing, and judging by the glint in your captor’s eyes, you’re not going to like where this is headed.

It’s safe to panic now.

“Moon, stop it, that’s enough,” you tell him, voice wavering. After no response, you try again. “Moon, that’s enough, put me down.” Silence. “That’s enough , drop it!”

He stops for a second, grin falling a little before returning full force. “Well, if you insist ,” he laughs darkly. 

Your eyes widen and for a moment, nothing happens. Then he yanks your hands off him and lets go, watching you plummet to the ground with sinister glee.

Then, you’re falling.

You think you scream, you can’t tell. You crash into the ballpit right after, but it doesn’t cushion your fall. You hiss immediately on impact, clenching your fists and curling in on yourself. The plastic balls dig into your spine, sending waves of pain throughout your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you don’t dare open them lest you see that face looming over you. You do a quick check-over, wiggling your toes and bending your joints weakly. Somehow, nothing is broken, but you can’t tell over the searing pain in your side. You thought it was bad before, but that was nothing compared to now. The dull ache is burning, setting your nerves on fire with as much as a twitch. Your back is in a similar shape, as are your legs. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that before Moon’s shadow looms over you from the side of the pit. He makes some stab at you that you don’t really process over the ringing in your ears. Existing hasn’t taken such a toll on you before. His voice still carries into the white noise. You manage to get your mouth moving again and whisper, voice crackling, “Knock it off, Moon.”

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t let up on his teasing, and you vaguely register his response. “Oh, poor little worker can’t take a tumble. Too weak to pick yourself back up again? Not that I see much of a difference. You’ve always got your head down, ballpit or that desk you laze at. Best to let the ‘bucket of bolts’ do the work, hm ?”

You say nothing, not finding the idea of lifting your head and entertaining his little act worth it in your state. You remain limp in the ballpit, knees hugged to your chest in fetal position.

You hear him step closer to you, and jerk slightly when blue digits dig into your shoulders to pull you up. A cry of pain erupts from you at the fingers embedding themselves in your shoulder blades. They retract quickly as if burned by a pot sitting too long on the stove, as if this was the first time they’ve ever felt such heat before. Your severe pain and slightly depressive state dissipates momentarily and is instead replaced with white-hot anger that threatens to bubble over.

You slap his hand away and shout, “It’s not funny, Moon, knock it off! ”

He freezes, hands twitching in the air. His optics flicker, narrowing as he reaches back out to capture you once out. You smack his wrist again and ignore the added pain of striking metal. 

You stagger out of the ballpit, standing on shaky legs. You don’t give him a chance to speak before you start up again. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, man? You dropped me from 50 feet up, I could’ve died ! What did I even do to you?”

His faceplate turns in a silent half-rotation before he shrugs.

Oh no he did not . 

You explode, gesturing wildly as his simple movement spurs you on. “So what, you just don’t like me and decided to fucking throw me off the balcony like some- some doll for you to mess around with?! Pfft, yeah sure, that makes sense! Let’s just drop someone from 40 feet ‘because we don’t like them’! Wow, Moon, I can see how you guys got your position with that logic !”

“Oh wait! ” you spin around sharply, a manic grin on your face that seems to twist every meek and modest feature on your face as you continue on. “That’s why I’m here! Because for all your hard work, Management still decided to shove me into this hellhole! And it doesn’t mean much, it’s Management, they don’t mean anything, but hey , guess what? I never wanted to be here, but surprise-surprise, no one wants to hire a nobody who didn’t push through their degree except a shady company with a world record in OSHA violations and an even bigger death toll! So here I am, getting paid 30 dollars an hour to deal with your ungrateful asses for five hours a day, not to mention the ridiculous amount of unpaid overtime of three to five EXTRA hours I dedicate to this sorry place, all without a single day off in the past six months that I have worked here, each of which have been filled with your non-stop harassment and shitty attitude, which for some bizarre reason I haven’t reported yet! So why, pray tell, have you been dead set on punishing me for a crime I have yet to commit? What did I even do to you?” 

It’s a trap. Moon knows it’s a trap, but he refuses to let you get away with such slander on his turf. He rolls his eyes and huffs, “ Oh, please , you aren’t nearly as victimized as you make yourself out to be. You slack off during playtime while Sun handles everything, you’re constantly snoozing away at your desk unless you oh-so graciously decide to grace us with a moment of your time, and sometimes you don’t even show up at all. I think we have much more of a right to type up a report than you ever will.”

Alright, that’s it- “Oh, really ? Alright, buster, don’t give me that shit, I know damn well what I’m worth. For the record, I do play with the kids - which, if I may remind you, is not in my job description- until sweet lil Sunny starts giving me a death stare for daring to intrude on his precious playtime. And I do pitch in around here, just as much if not MORE than you do! Guess what, cheesehead? I clean the ballpit. I order the food, I buy the supplies, bring the books, put the kids toys back together, organize a monthly schedule AND deal with your sorry asses,  so don’t be telling me how to do my job, got it ? And don’t start up about my breaks, cuz, huh , I wasn’t aware that a two minute break in the place of an hour’s worth of free time was against my contract! I take time off when I know I’m not needed so that I don’t keel over and leave you to deal with over 40 kids! And even with that, I’ve still never taken an actual sick day off the entire time I’ve worked here because I know this is how you’ll react! When was the last time I didn’t show up to work, huh?”

Moon is swift with his reply, almost anticipating the question. “Last month, you took nearly two weeks off without telling your supervisors,” he states triumphantly, as if this had somehow won him the argument.

Oh, this absolute idiot . 

His victorious grin falls slightly at your disbelieving laughter. “Two weeks?! I’ve been working here for six months and you’re hung up on two weeks ?! I’ll have you know that I did tell my supervisors-which you are not , by the way- that I would be out on unpaid sick leave. And I know they didn’t tell you about it because I knew exactly what would happen, and it did! I thought you could respect it and let it go , but apparently not, cuz  you can’t handle not sticking your obnoxiously pointed nose up someone’s business! And now I’m the nosy one!” Your voice grows louder, and you throw your arms out with a wide, dangerous gleam in your eyes. 

“You wanna know where I was? Why I was gone? Well guess what, Craterhead, I was in the hospital making sure my brother didn’t drop dead ! I had to make sure he didn’t flat line halfway through a surgery !”

Oh.

Oh no.

Moon’s eyes widen, regret flickering across his face for a second. He takes a small step back, retreating as you advance. A jab to the chest pulls him back to the present, and his optics narrow.

“But you don’t care about any of that, do you? All you care about is your stupid reputation and oh no, Sunny and Moony can’t have a human ruining everything, because that’s all this meatbag knows how to do! Oh no, poor Sunny and Moony!”

You watch his expression drop like a thermometer exposed to subzero temperatures, red optics pinpricks in a sea of black that threaten to overtake them, contracted pupils tensed like a rubber band about to snap. A spark of something, perhaps vindication, ignites within you, overshadowing the voice in the back of your mind that quietly warns you of what to come, to back down before it’s too late.

A pity your brother isn’t here to hold you back. 

Your voice drops dangerously low for a moment, a deathly whisper that somehow seeps fear into Moon’s systems more than your uncontrolled rage.“I bet you tried to break me, didn’t you, wanted to see me all battered and bruised with my tail tucked between my legs as I ran out of this godforsaken place. Oh, don’t act so surprised, we both knew you never liked me. You never liked me or the idea of someone coming along to jeopardize your position, your life’s purpose, the only thing you have ever been good for, and so you pushed, even when I went along with all your orders, all your demands and your stupid checkpoints and your stupid, stupid rules, pushed and pushed and pushed until I couldn’t take it anymore, and here we are. Well, no more ! You knew there was a breaking point, you both did. Well, here it is, the final straw! Your hard work finally paid off, you’ve made me even more miserable than before, and for what? Is this what you wanted, Moon, Sun? Are you finally satisfied? ”

Moon is still in front of you, hands drawn to his chest, pupils watching fat drops roll down your cheeks and leave stained rivers on your skin as you smile that angry, heartbreaking, defeated smile that cuts through their wires like glass shards, words stabbing through his central processors and sending a jolt through them both. He wants to respond, wants to say something clever and leave you sputtering and defeated, but nothing comes to mind. He always has a retort, a comeback, a witty remark or a snarky comment to make you bend to their will, and yet this time he’s the one left grasping for straws. He’s speechless, voicebox pushing out low static as he struggles to formulate a reply. You don’t give him the time to, resuming with a steady confidence they’ve never seen in you before. This is a side of you that is unfamiliar to them. They don’t quite know what to make of it, and so they stay unwillingly silent as you answer your own question with an air of finality. 

“No, you’re not. And I’ll tell you why. This perfection that you’ve tried so hard to pin down? Hate to break it to you, buddy, but perfect is something even machines can’t accomplish, no matter how advanced or well-built they think they are. It never will be. You and Sun both think you’re oh-so-great and so far above lil ol’ me and my stupid human brain, but I think you forget that you’re just as bad as I am. I’ve seen the daycare reviews, boys, and trust me, they are not pretty. Our sweet little ball of Sunshine scared kids so bad with his pushiness that a good deal of them just didn’t come back, and you? Oh, you scared the shit out of kids, didn’t you? You left them shivering in their sleeping bags in fear of the very thing that swore to protect them. 

“So tell me”- you tilt your head, smile growing sickeningly sweet as your eyes squint upwards, hands poised together as you punctuate every syllable that leaves your lips - “What exactly do you think gives you any authority over me? How do you think you can protect anyone from me when you can’t even protect them from yourself?”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment, the manic grin not leaving your face as you turn around to sweep over the daycare after the prolonged eye contact with burning red optics begins to sting your eyes. 

 “But hey!” you call out behind you with a laugh like shattered glass left on cold tile. “Don’t take my word for it. I’m just the dumb worker you had to boot cuz you didn’t want someone to steal the spotlight.”

You whip back around to give a final comment before catching a glimpse of Moon. His pupils are near non-existent, eyes dark and empty. His static grin is too wide, fingers too sharp, curling and uncurling. You freeze, words cutting to a halt, and you swear his grin grows wider.

“ R̶̻̘̃͂̈́͋́ ̶̢̛͇̠͔̤̥͉̜̖̫̰̬̬̝̓͛̾̅̓̑̌́͆̅̇̿̎͂̈́͘̕͠Ǘ̸̡̻͖̅̄̄̚ ̵͖̱͕̫̋̈́̀́͊̇̐̀̒̒̋͑̅̀͗̊́́̚̕͝N̵̘̰͓̹̖̘̦̪͂̓̎̅̊̀͘̕͜ ̶̡͕̙͖̟͍̼͙̠̺̹̦̘̙̘̠̏̾̿̏̂͜ͅ," he growls. 

It sends a chill up your spine, dousing your anger in fear. You don’t waste time waiting for him to start chasing. You’re already booking it across the Daycare and to the exit. 

You’re maybe 10 paces in when you hear him behind you, wire clicking and shooting him to the ceiling. You know it’s a losing battle, he could easily take you if he wanted to. He doesn’t though, not yet. It’s the chase he’s after.

You dare not turn to check behind you, instead running blindly in hopes of somehow managing to hide. Your logical reason tells you to just leave, but it’s drowned out by pure instinct to run, get away, danger-

Moon has a severe advantage and you both know it. He knows the area. Still, you foolishly blunder on, making a hard right that almost makes you trip before you stumble back up again. You’re lucky he doesn’t do this more often because man you are out of shape. He hasn’t chased you since the first two months, you’d thought these games were behind you.

You wheeze as you bump into a wall, barely managing to dodge a wet floor bot. You can’t keep this up much longer. Your heart’s been kicked into overdrive, beating at a rate you know isn’t normal. Distantly, pain tingles in your elbow, muffled by the adrenaline pulsing through you. You’re surprised you haven’t bumped into any of the GlamRocks. They may not like you, but it’s better than this. 

Maybe they’re patrolling different floors? They could be charging.

All at the same time.

Yeah…

You skid to a sudden stop. You were just here, weren’t you? Ugh, these hallways all looked the same. Your eyes dart around wildly, spotting the familiar Daycare entrance. The faces of golden statues are smiling down at you.

You can’t recall a time where that’s happened to you before. 

Your eyes dart around for some place to hide, landing on a closet. You hear jingling bells in the distance.

You silently pray there aren’t any spiders before shutting yourself inside, leaving the door open just a crack for a sliver of light. 

It’s not a terribly big closet. There’s maybe enough room for you to stand upright. You sit with your knees tucked under your chin, eyes never leaving the door. Just in time. The wire descends and detaches, two feet coming into view. They pad softly on the cold tile, making no noise as he prowls for his prey. 

A shadow in front of the door.

You hold your breath, freezing and throwing a hand over your mouth.

A pause.

His attention is shifted elsewhere. He grumbles and stalks off, leaving you in  the dark. 

You wait maybe thirty seconds for the footsteps to grow silent before exhaling softly and taking stock of your situation. You’re stuck in a broom closet at work and the only other worker here tonight just left. 

Not that Moon would be of any help , you thought bitterly. He just wants you out of the way.

You can’t really blame him for that , though, can you ?

The thought almost sets you off the edge, but you reign yourself in, letting go of a self-deprecating laugh and wiping the tears that form in the corners of your eyes. It doesn’t help. New ones replace them and you let your hands fall back into your lap.

No. No, you couldn’t blame them for it. You invaded their space and made a mess of things. You have a habit of doing that.

That’s why you left, after all. You couldn’t handle messing that up , either.

A shaky sob escapes you, and you press your palms to your eyes to stop the flow of tears trickling down your face. You need this job, you can’t lose it. If you lost it, you’d have no other options. You’d be out of house and home, and then what? Go back with your tail tucked between your legs?

No. You couldn’t go back.

What other choices did you have?

It didn’t matter, anyway. At the end of the day, nothing would change. You were still you, and something always goes wrong no matter what you do. Didn’t matter how hard you tried or how fair it was, it’s always the same.

Sometimes you wonder if everyone would’ve been better off had your brother been an only child.

A soft buzzing in your pocket snaps you out of your episode. You fish your phone out in surprise. That’s right, you’d put it there after this morning.  It vibrates in your hand, the caller ID flashing across the screen. It’s your mother. You stare at it dumbly, making no move to answer it. You’re half tempted to just let it ring till she gives up and drops it as always, but…

You need something to keep the quiet at bay right now.

Swiping to start the call, you hear shuffling over the static and put the speaker close to your ear. A short “hello?” is heard and repeated as she tries to figure out how to use the brick in her hand.

The act is familiar and you manage a watery smile. “Hi, mom.”

“Can you hear m-oh, good, you’re there. Your brother said you messaged him this morning and we just wanted to check in.” Her tone shifts. “You okay there?”

You don’t think you can pull off pretending that you’re fine at the moment. You sniffle into the receiver, curling further in on yourself. “I’m okay, I just…I just had a bad day at work.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”she sighs, and you wince slightly, not really feeling up to whatever questions she has to ask. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head before remembering that you’re on the phone, instead muttering a quiet ‘no’ into the speaker. She stays uncharacteristically silent on the other side of the line, her subtle shifting of the phone the only indicator that she’s still on the call. You know she wants to pry further, force an answer out of you. Sometimes, you almost wish she did, wish she pushed just a bit harder so you could finally break and let it all out.

She doesn’t this time though, puttering out a soft sigh. “Well…alright. Just remember, we’re always here if you need us. Your brother’ll probably check on you anyway, you know how he gets. Just don’t let him burn the building down for your sake.”

A wet snort slips past you before you catch it, imagining your anarchist brother expressing his rage against the machine and corporate capitalism by burning down a rip-off Chuck-E-Cheese. You didn’t think your mother was capable of creating an image like that, either. She hadn’t exactly been very invested in either of your interests. You wonder if she’s been taking pointers from your brother. 

You wave the thoughts aside, realizing you’ve let the conversation taper off and…

You suppose you can let this phone call end on a higher note. You both sort of need it anyway.

“Thanks, mom,” you whisper coarsely, leaning against the stacked boxes and letting your head fall back.

“Of course, dear. You just call us back when you’re ready. Oh, and try to tag along with your brother sometime, it gets lonely without you there. You were much better at listening to his mechanical jargle than we are.”

You exchange a few more quiet answers before wishing her a good night and hanging up, squinting at your brightly lit phone in the dark space. The time reads a little past 10. Moon’s first round of patrols is likely finished, which means it’s finally safe to leave this cramped compartment. 

The door remains shut when you turn the knob.

You try for the handle again, rattling it with greater and greater intensity as your panic begins to build up to no avail. Your hands form fists, soon beginning to bang on the door, eyes wide and breathing erratic. Try as you might, it’s sealed like a tomb, effectively locked inside. 

No, no, no , this can’t be happening, not here, not now. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be in this dark, cramped closet at the end of some forgotten corridor, stashed with all the boxes and cleaning supplies. 

Your brother had locked you into a closet once. Flipped the switch on the outside and left you alone to battle the demons you couldn’t see. It had been funny, back then, until you started screaming and begging to be let out.

It wasn’t funny now.

You drop to the floor, hands sliding down the wood to lay limply beside you. You can feel yourself shaking, bones rattling as you tremble. Your lungs burn with the force of the rapid inhale-exhale pattern you struggle to keep stable, your heartbeat pounding at the front of your head. Inhale, exhale, thump, thump, inhale, thump -oh, weren’t you supposed to exhale first- thump -and your heart’s not pumping, you can’t breathe, you need to breathe -

You gasp, head reeling, nails digging into your palms and leaving red marks. You struggle to ground yourself, forcing your eyes to focus on the sliver of light from under the doorframe. You inch back, still trembling lightly, staring blankly at the floor as the cold reality dawns on you.

You’re trapped.

No one is here to save you now.

Aaaaand that's a wrap! Hope yall enjoyed that lil chapter, seems like our y/n's gotten into quite a pickle! It's okay, though, they needed some time to process anyways. Speaking of which, Sun and Moon have a LOT to think about... Not sure when I'll post chapter 9, sorry! I have a couple of short snippets planned out already, but typing and connecting them is a whole other matter, so I dunno when I'll get back to this. Until then, however, I hope this is enough, and unfortunately...

The theater is closed...

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 14)

getting back to the grove of writing and updating this on a reg. And look at that - an update in 2024! (jesus where did time go)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 next: Part 15 | ao3

After startling himself awake for the third time in a row, Jeff groans in defeat as he kicks the blankets off him and makes his quiet way downstairs. He pauses once at the front of his parents’ bedroom door, wondering if he could sneak in under their covers like he used to do when he was little. Instead, he listens to his dad’s soft snores for a bit before continuing on.

The kitchen is quiet. Usually, the liminal solace eases him. This time however, it makes Jeff hyper aware of every sound in the house. Any tap on the window and back door spikes his heartbeat up to eleven. The darkest corners where he can’t see manifest the faintest shapes of teeth. His mind is starting to convince him that the monster is hiding right behind the kitchen island.

He quickly flicks the light switch on and the shadows retreat to their abyssal homes. Jeff does a swift lap around the island, sighing in relief when he finds nothing.

Jeff goes over to sink and fills up a glass of water. He drinks, drinks, and drinks.

After his throat feels no longer dry, Jeff places the glass down, a finger tapping on the rim. He’s too worked up to go back to bed and sleep. Thank god it’s the weekend. He can’t imagine trying to trudge his way to class and lunch while every empty seat that should have Eddie in it continues to haunt him.

“Fuck.” Jeff huffs, rubbing the side of his temple. Because right. While he had just found out alternate dimensions with man-eating monsters exist, Eddie’s still incognito.

He just wanted to find his best friend. How did Jeff’s life come to this?

Another realization strikes him. If Eddie doesn’t come back, then what will happen to the Hellfire Club? Neither Jeff or the other members are as great at DM’ing as Eddie. There’s also no chance of someone else in the high school with the same skills to bother joining. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be the same with Eddie’s love for dramatics and methods of setting the scene to further engage them. A club without their leader wouldn’t last long even with the members still onboard.

Hellfire would be gutted out of Hawkins High. Every brick made of Eddie’s blood, sweat, and tears would be smashed into dust and swept into the dumpster. It would be like Eddie had never existed at all.

Jeff buries his face into his hands, leaning over the counter. He breathes in and out as slow as possible. He is not having this breakdown at whatever-o’clock at night-

The floorboards creak behind him. Jeff spins around, his hand about to throw the glass at the noise. He manages to stop himself at the last second when he sees it’s just his grandmother.

“Jeffery?” She squints at him, her accent more clear with her apparent sleepiness. “Why, why are you up? You should na koimásai, óchi?”

Jeff chuckles, wiping his eyes in case a few tears welled up. He walks over to her, gently holding her arms. “Kala, Gigi. I was just thirsty.”

His grandma studies his face briefly before she tutted, “Trouble sleeping. Óchi kala.” She waves him off as she starts heading over to the cabinets, the kettle already set to boil. “Tea would make you better.”

Jeff’s not sure if his grandma’s famous dandelion-honey tea will be enough to erase the shadowy monsters and existential dread from his mind. But hey, what not?

—

El wakes up to the sun. It’s nice and warm on her face. She sits up from the ground, keeping her head up to have the sun still shining on her. But a cold breeze hits her and the nice warmth is gone. She shivers, sinking her head further into her jacket.

The pretty blonde hair gets into her nose and mouth. She spits it out but now it sticks to her cheek.

El stands up and walks over to the large water, close to where she had slept. She looks down and sees the same Pretty Girl. Except that her eyes are puffy-red and her face is dirty.

El takes off the hair and Pretty Girl does the same. Now she looks just like Eleven. A monster. Papa’s failure.

El’s face twists, remembering how scared she was the night before when Mike and Lucas started yelling at each other before Mike hurt him. While they had all ran into Mike’s house after she Felt Will and Eddie, she had ran away from them.

She doesn’t want to hurt them anymore. Staying with them will bring Papa to them. Or turn Mike into someone like that boy Troy.

She still has the walkie radio in her hands. She hasn’t turned it on in case Mike starts calling her. But she hasn’t checked in with Will and Eddie either yet. She’s scared of hearing the monster again.

Something dark and hazy flashes in her mind. For a moment, she’s at the Room and someone - not Papa - leers down at her. Eleven, what have you done?

Somehow, it terrifies El to her entire body that she screams. The water parts away in a rush as if it’s scared of her too.

—

The first thing Nancy does after waking up is flicking her eyes to the bedside lamp. She expects it to turn on and off by itself like some sort of morning alarm. But nothing happens. Nancy shuffles over and twists the tiny knob to the side, but still nothing. Seems that the power is still out.

Nancy looks down at Jonathan. He’s still sleeping where he lies on the floor next to the bed, a thick duvet over him with his jacket as a pillow.

After the combination of the Poltergeist-esque communication with his brother (the reality of that situation is now hitting her wow) and the hectic post-blackout assistance (which involved many candles and hurried transport of food in the fridge), Jonathan had been drained enough that he had just dropped to the floor like a stone. Her mom had only allowed him to sleep in Nancy’s room because he literally couldn’t budge. 

Nancy watches him for a moment while his shoulders rises gently up and down. It gives her deja vu, bringing her back to that morning in Steve’s bedroom. 

Oh god, Steve. Nancy didn’t mean to say any of that to him. It was just supposed to be a way to convince him to leave so Steve wouldn’t see Jonathan and get the wrong idea. But she got too stressed by his questions that her emotions got the best of her. 

Now, after seeing Steve’s crestfallen expression, Nancy will know better than to hurt him again. 

She rolls over to her back and stares up at the ceiling. Her mind buzzes with the renewal of every emotion from the past twelve hours. Fear. Curiosity. Irritation. Regret. All of them fill up the new hole in her chest.

But none of it is enough to drown her worries for Barb.

Tears sting her eyes again. Nancy quickly rubs them away, not wanting to dissolve into a sobbing mess again. It hurts when she demands herself not to think about Barb for a minute. She needs to distract herself. Preferably something safe. Like, like-

Checking on Mike.

Nancy slips out of bed, tiptoeing past Jonathan and into the sunrise-lit hallway. Mike’s door is closed but she hears a faint rustling sound on the other side. When Nancy lightly knocks, it stops.

“Mike?” She calls, quiet enough to not wake up Holly or her parents.  

She hears her brother groaning. Nancy rolls her eyes and lets herself in, expecting Mike to yell at her as usual. Instead, she’s taken aback by his silence as he stuffs his backpack with something that looks like an extra set of clothes.

“Mike?” When he doesn’t look up at her, Nancy steps closer. Mike’s hunched over and the corner of his eyes look red. Either from last night’s craziness or his emotional outburst. Maybe both. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Totally not because I can’t find Will.” Mike snaps with a swift zip of his backpack. His tone sounds too tired for a twelve year old. And something his answer confuses Nancy. Can’t find Will?

She thinks about to last night when the flashing lights in her room expanded to the rest of the house. Nancy had been terrified and too focused on Jonathan holding her that she’d barely missed Mike’s frantic calls. At first, she thought he was calling for their parents, but then she had heard him shout out Will’s name. After all the lights blew out, Nancy had nearly forgotten it.

Now that she thinks about it, she wonders if Mike had also found a way to talk to Will too. That might explain the behaviour of him and his friends from the past few days.

“Hey, if there’s any-” But just as Nancy sits on the bed next to him, Mike hops off. That’s when she notices that he’s already changed out of his pyjamas. 

“Wait a second. Mike, where are you going?” 

Her brother stops at the door’s threshold. He turns around and says seriously, “I’ve become the fugitive of the state. Tell Mom I love her.” 

“Wh- Mike!” Nancy jumps up to her feet but Mike’s already dashing down to the stairs. Frankly, she’s too taken aback about the sudden scene of normalcy to chase after him. 

She groans in exasperation as she returns back to her bedroom. This time, Jonathan is awake, rubbing his eyes and asking, “Whatz th’ time?”

“Morning, that’s what we know.” Nancy drops back on her bed. Her hand coincidentally lands on her notebook, left alone on the corner. She picks it up and flips back to the pages where she had transcribed Jonathan’s conversation with Will and Munson.

J: Munson? How are you here? EM: TAKEN TOO. DEMOGORGON. SCARY MOTHERFUCKER.

(At that, Nancy couldn’t help but laugh. That’s one way to describe the monster she and Jeff had fled from.)

J: Okay, did the demogorgon took you too, Will? WB: YES. J: When? WB: BIKING BACK HOME EM: IT HIT MY VAN

“What should we do now?”

Nancy glances up. Jonathan’s still sitting, picking at the skin around his thumb, not looking at her. “I mean, we know Will’s somewhere that’s not really here and Eddie Munson’s with him. But something happened-” he gestures to the nonfunctional lights, “-and now we can’t talk to them and find out.”

Nancy bites her lip. She doesn’t like this either, but it would be laughable to go to the police. Because what would they really do, even if they somehow believe the story? Shoot the monster and bring those two boys back? Yeah, very unlikely.

Thumbing through the pages with last night’s conversation, Nancy tears them out of the notebook. She hands them over to Jonathan, who finally looks up and slowly takes them. “Your mom is probably the only person who knows what’s going on. Give those to her. She’ll believe us.”

“And then what?” Jonathan mutters, staring down at the pages. “Knowing my brother’s alive is not enough.” He pauses, “Does Munson’s parents know about him?”

Nancy blanks. She doesn’t know Eddie Munson that much, save for his habit of walking on lunch tables and shouting at the popular students. Nancy used to find it funny, but eventually it turned into background noise.

Shaking her head, she asks, “Don’t you know Munson better?”

Jonathan sighs, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “Just because we’re both freaks at school doesn’t mean I’m friends with him. I know nothing about Munson other than he lives in Forest Hills trailer park. I don’t think he even has parents.”

He pauses, turning his gaze back at Nancy, “Wait, what about the demo-monster? We know nothing about it.”

“We do.” Nancy gets up, walking over to her bookshelf. “I’ve only seen the monster for a minute, but even if it’s not from our world, it’s still an animal. A predator. If we can at least guess its strengths and weaknesses,” she pulls out her animal encyclopedia. She hasn’t touched it since eighth grade, but it should still do, “then we hunt it and kill it.”

Jonathan stares at her. “How?”

“We can get hunting equipment. That should work.”

“But will that guarantee getting Will and Munson out?”

Nancy doesn’t know how to answer that.

—

Jim wakes with a startled gasp and a hand clamping over his neck. The side of it still pangs with the needle suddenly stabbing through the skin. Catching his breath, he takes in his new surroundings. He’s back in his trailer, now sitting upright on the couch as the morning beams through the curtains. Which means that, in between now and his baffling discovery at the Hawkins Laboratory, Jim had somehow made it home and blacked out.

Motherfuckers.

Jim rushes out of the couch and starts tearing through every inch of his place. Cuts through the pillows. Breaks more plates than necessary in the cabinets. Digs through the trash. Ruffles his bedsheets. The whole shebang.

It’s while he starts unscrewing the bulbs of his lamps that a knocking bangs on the front door. Jim freezes for a second, a sheet of sweat and fear dousing him. His gun is lost somewhere in the mess. If that’s the Lab folks again with that Brenner man again-

“Chief! You coming out?”

Jim shakes out a relieved sigh. It’s Cahallan.

He eyes at the lamp, wondering if he could still check it. He decides to leave it for now. Let the Lab listen to him like they want.

Jim finds his gun and checks through the peephole. Then he pokes his head out, glaring at Cahallan.

“Whoa, Chief,” Cahallan starts but Jim cuts him off with a (hopefully) very relaxed, “What’s up?”

As Cahallan stares at him, Jim notices two other men behind him. He relaxes when he recognizes Powell - who’s looking down like the dead leaves around his shoes are the Niagara Falls - and Conrad Smith, another officer at the station.

Cahallan snaps out of his stupor, shaking his head. “Remember Barbara Holland? A couple of those rangers went out and got a eyewitness who said she hitchhiked with a trucker somewhere west. Guess she did ran away after all.”

Jim nods, but his mind is already split between completing his search of the house and the goddamn state getting their hands all over Hawkins.

“There’s something else too, Chief.”

Jim barely resists an impatient sigh, “What?”

The men look at each nervously before Cahallan takes a breath and quickly says, “Will Byers’ grave was desecrated last night.”

Jim almost falls over at that, but he catches himself at the last second. He doesn’t hide his shock and disbelief though. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“We got the call just around ten last night.” Smith takes the reins to explain, “The grave was dug down to his coffin and the robbers broke it open.”

Oh sweet Jesus.

How Jim hasn’t collapsed to the ground yet, he chalks it up to his sheer force of will and the way his hand still grips on the edge of his door. He sucks in a deep breath, “Please tell me the kid’s body isn’t violated.”

Cahallan winces again, “Yeah, uh, we don’t exactly know.” At Jim’s bewildered glare, he quickly backtracks, “When we came over, the graveyard was swarmed by the state guys! They told us this was their ‘point of interest’, whatever the hell that means other than we should stay out of their business.”

A cold sweat drips down Jim’s neck. This definitely sounds like a government coverup in the making. Not to mention that if Joyce catches a wind of what’s going on… Jim’s not sure if he should pray for the state rangers from their inevitable fates.

Then another cold thought strikes him. What if the Lab already bugged her house? And Wayne Munson’s?

“Okay.” Jim feigns casual interest and clicks his tongue. “Well, if the case is going to be resolved by the state, then so be it. Now scram.”

Before he shuts the door, he hears Powell calling out to him. He glares out again, “What?”

Powell shuffles from foot to foot before finally piping up, “Am I still fired after the Munson kid is found?”

Jim slams the door.

He stays long enough to hear their mutterings and crunching footsteps as they walk away. Then he stomps back over to the lamp, digging his hand inside the cover. Something plastic touches his fingers. Jim immediately curls around it and pulls it out, barely catching a small snap as he does.

He examines the device closely. It’s a small black object that looks like some Lego pieces glued together with a couple exposed wires on the side. Jim doesn’t think twice about opening the window and throwing the thing out as far as he could without pulling a muscle.

—

It’s the crick in his neck that wakes up Wayne first. He slowly sits up from his uncomfortable position and rubs a hard thumb on the knot. As he does, Wayne presses a palm over his eyes, taking in the room with bleary eyes.

The living room’s the same as last time. The lights Joyce had reattached to the wall were sprawled across the table to the wall above the couch. Part of the old bedsheet, the alphabet hastily painted in black, had somehow fallen on his lap. Joyce herself is also sleeping, now lying on the couch instead of her stiff seating position from the last time Wayne had checked.

It’s surprising that either of them had slept after their grave discovery (no pun intended), especially after a frantic but thorough washing of their dirt-covered hands and disposal of the shovels.

He reaches over, nudging Joyce by her arm. It takes a couple tries but she jolts awake.

“Oh god…” She yawns with a crack of her jaw. Then she peers over at Wayne. “Had they said anything yet?”

Wayne shakes his head, picking up a string and letting it go so it clacks against the cloth. “I’ve actually fell asleep too, so I might’ve missed it.”

Joyce stretches her arms over her head as she sits up. She clears her throat and calls out, “Good morning, Will! Morning to you, Eddie.”

Wayne watches every lightbulb but none of them flickers. Joyce gives out a huff of frustration before she glances back at Wayne. “Coffee?”

“Best way to start the morning.” Wayne smiles. Joyces returns it, though smaller and strained. But just as she stands up, there’s a sudden knock at the door.

They freeze. Wayne whirls his head back to Joyce. Her face is pale with fear. When she catches his eye, she mouths questioningly, “Police?”

Wayne really hopes it’s not.

We got out of the grave fast. We ran back to my truck fast and quiet. I drove us out without a hurry just several minutes later so the ‘keeper won’t question it.

..Actually, looking back at it, Wayne might’ve been an idiot.

The knocking comes again. Persistent, louder.

Wayne stands up slowly. Joyce grabs onto his arm. “What do I do?” She whispers. He can already see her hand twitching towards a nearby hammer.

“Answer it.” Wayne continues when Joyce gives him a baffled look, “Whoever it is, they probably won’t leave until you open the door. Might be the police. Might be Lonnie or somebody else.” His hands goes on her shoulders, squeezing them assuringly. “But the second they start bringing harm on you, I’ll break their teeth.”

Joyce nods, sucking in shaky breaths. She pats his hands, letting Wayne to drop them as she strides over to the knocking door. Joyce pauses to shoot another look at him. Wayne nods back. Go ahead.

She jerks her chin up with a defiant glare. Joyce calls out as she opens the door. “Alright, I’m here! No need t-”

Chief Hopper immediately steps inside, silencing her with a finger to his lips and a notepad aimed at her.

Wayne blinks. Well, he fears the police would come, but not in this kind of manner he’s seen before. “Chief?”

Hopper turns to him, holding his shushing gesture while shaking his notepad at Wayne. They’re written in black pen, large letters saying DON’T SAY ANYTHING!

“Hop-?” Joyce starts to speak, but Hopper shushes her again.

Wayne and Joyce soon stand at each other’s sides, watching in complete bewilderment and dismay as Hopper methodically turns the house inside out. After what feels like hours later, Hopper finishes his bizarre inspection as he nods at them.

“You’re good, Joyce.” Hopper sighs, dropping to the couch.

“Hopper, what the hell?!” Joyce throws her arms up, stomping over to him. “You come in here, tell me and Wayne to stay quiet, and you tear the rooms apart? At this point, I might as well move out!”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Hopper rubs his eyes wearily, “I just needed to make sure they didn’t bug you.”

At Joyce’s sound of confusion, Wayne steps in and asks, “‘They’?”

If he’s puzzled by Wayne’s presence, Hopper doesn’t show it. Instead, he answers simply, “The lab.”

“You’re losing us, Hop,” Joyce crosses her arms, “What lab?”

Hopper tells them. For the second time, Wayne thinks that he’s just hearing a ghost story. Only this time involving a reckless breaking and entry of the Hawkins Lab and discovering something in their lower floors that sounds more like a newfound gate to hell.

“It was glowing red?” Joyce interrupts. The horrified disbelief on her face probably matches with Wayne’s.

Hopper nods, “Yeah, from the inside.”

“Like my wall.” Joyce murmurs. Catching Wayne’s confused glance, she explains, “That night when I spoke to Will and he told me Eddie’s name? Something came out of my wall in the room and, well, I couldn’t see it probably but it glowed red and scared me out of my house.”

“Eddie’s name?” Now it’s Hopper looking confused.

Wayne blows out a soft breath, “We- well, Joyce here had spoken to her son. Turns out wherever he is, Eddie’s with him too.”

While Hopper processes that info, Joyce frowns at him, “Do you think that, because of whatever the Lab has in their basement, it’s why Will and Eddie are not here?”

“Not to mention the state taking over Eddie’s case.” Wayne remarks pointedly.

Hopper runs a hand down his face, muttering curses under his breath. “Yep.” He makes a short but bitter laugh, “Actually, I figured that they had to be covering for something when I tried to get to the morgue, but too many rangers were posted there.”

“Because Will’s body is fake.” Joyce says.

“Exact-” Hopper starts to nod before shooting his head towards Joyce. A sharp pang of panic shoots through Wayne as he whirls at her. Joyce immediately clamps a hand over her mouth but the damage is already done.

The silence loads into the living room like bullets in a gun chamber.

“Joyce.” Hopper says slowly with a careful tone. His hands are carefully outstretched and open. “Joyce, what did you just say?”

Joyce looks at Wayne with barely-hidden panic and apologies in her eyes. He just squeezes her hand comfortingly. It’s okay, I’m not mad, He hopes she understands his silent message.

She squeeze his hand back.

“Joyce, I promise you’re not saying anything incriminating. I just want to you repeat what you just said. Just as a friend.”

Screw it, let’s rip the Band-Aid off. If the Chief of Hawkins Police can handle sneaking into a government lab by himself, then what’s worse than grave robbing with good intentions?

Wayne clears his throat, getting Hopper’s attention on him, “We already know about Will’s grave because Joyce and I dug it up last night.”

He keeps his own head up as Hopper’s snap towards him with saucers for eyes.

Joyce drops her hand from her mouth and almost-yells, “But that’s to check on who they actually buried! And you know what we found, Hop? It was fake. They literally made up Will’s body out of plastic!”

“I accidentally kicked the head off.” Wayne adds with a casual shrug. Not the best attempt to have the atmosphere light again, but sue him, he’s trying. “Bless the almighty above that there was only cotton stuffings instead of blood coming out.”

Usually, he doesn’t like watching the light be drained out of people’s eyes in real time. But this time will an exception because it’s actually kind of funny seeing Hopper go into some sort of existential crisis on the spot.

“Please don’t report this, Hop.” Joyce claps her hands together in a prayer gesture. “At least don’t tell anyone Wayne and I did it.”

“Oh, don’t worry…” Hopper barely mutters, his gaze now blankly staring at the table as if the object had just sucked his soul out.

“Hop?” Joyce leans in as if to poke him, but Wayne gently stops her. Shaking his head lightly, he says, “How about we fix ourselves some breakfast? I don’t remember the last time I ate, to be honest.”

They both stand back up, leaving Hopper on the couch. Wayne notes Joyce’s carefully-steeled face and nudges her. “You’re allowed to laugh, you know.”

Joyce quickly shakes her head, but he can see a smile already cracking through her face while she rubs over her arms. In fact, she looks almost a tad too gleeful, “I’m glad that I got to actually say that out loud.”

Then her face falls again to the chronic worrying expression, “I just hope our boys are doing okay right now.”

—

When Will stirs awake, the first thing he feels is Eddie’s heart beating against his ear from where his head had at some point moved on top of Eddie’s chest. Relieved, Will keeps his eyes closed, ready to continue sleeping.

And then he hears the raspy breathing.

Will sits up so quickly that, for a second, his vision turns black around the edges. Even in the dark, he sees Eddie rapidly blinking up with glossy eyes.

“Eddie?” Will places his hand on Eddie’s forehead, only to immediately pull it back. His skin is so hot that it burns through all of Will’s fingers. Oh no.

Will moves so he’s kneeling right beside Eddie’s head, already carefully brushing his hair away from his sweating face just like how Mom does it whenever he gets sick. The older boy trembles violently, either from the touch or the fever, Will doesn’t know. He tries to remember what Mom had always said on those sick days, finally settling on the most important question - “Are you feeling okay?”

Eddie answers with a small gurgle before throwing up over his jeans.

-

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @hellion-child @steves-strapcollection @sidekick-hero @penny00dreadful @hbyrde36 @mmmmwaffles94 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost @niniel-karenine @tinyplanet95

[drippingviolets3]

Sooooo, a lot has been happening with me recently and since I might be sick (and desperately need my medication adjusted-) I’m going to do a part two to that one thing where I rated danganronpa characters based on how they would comfort me after that one instance where I got bullied for being 💅

Hajime: 6/10: His free time events low key make me want to strangle him sometimes for his attitude, and I’m STILL traumatized by that one nut scene, but he’d still do more then the bare minimum despite being awkward about it.

Chiaki: 6/10: I know she would never say this, but for some reason she’s giving me Zuko’s “Thats rough buddy” response from ATLA 😭. I don’t think I would be able to tell if she’s actually listening or caring, so I’d be discouraged, but Chiaki would definitely try to find some way to distract me.

Nagito: -10/10: Mf would deadass look me in the eye and tell me it was a necessary stepping stone to achieve the brightest hope or some shit he can gtfo.

Twogami: 8/10: For the sake of staying in character he would pat me on the back with a broom, but would definitely have some words of wisdom to share with me, maybe share his food, idk.

Teruteru: 7/10: Here me out, since Teru is canonically bisexual, coming from one queer to another, he’d know when to drop the pervert shit and actually help. His advice would be shit but hey at least he’d make me something to eat.

Mahiru: 3/10: I can’t stand this bitch I gotta be real with y’all 💀. While she would agree that it was bad and such, she’d still get onto me for how I reacted and tell me to stop crying. We know she doesn’t really do anything to stop bullying so she’ll just do slightly below the bare minimum and dip.

Peko: 12/10: MY. WIFE. Okay I might be biased but I do think she’d just slowly draw her sword out to kill the mfs but would retract it the moment someone said “Peko, no.” Would she know how to comfort me? Probably not. But will she make sure that karma is delivered and that it hurts like a bitch? 100% yes.

Ibuki: 5/10: I think she’d also canonically queer, but she’s obnoxious and is weird in a way that kinda feels forced to me tbh? Idk how else to describe it, but I do know that while she would do her best to help, she’s not the person I want to be around in that kind of mess.

Hiyoko: 4/10: It depends on if we’re friends or not. If we were she’d probably tear the bullies a new one before promptly getting curb stomped, or she’d just make fun of me and tell me to get over it 💀.

Mikan: 2/10: She’ll want to help but would probably make it worse by tripping, crying, and apologizing.

Nekomaru: 9/10: He’d be such a dad about it, give the bullies a firm talking to and maybe yell at them if they catch an attitude. Overall he’d be bodyguarding me around that bitch 24/7

Gundham: 7/10: He’d give me a hamster to hold and would go off on one of his tangents about being a demon lord and how he’s make them burn in hellfire and shower the underworld in brimstone, but I won’t be paying attention because I’m holding a hamster and that makes life better 💞

Akane: 5/10: Similar to “Peko, no” but instead it’s like swiper the fox where you gotta scream “AKANE NO!” Three times in a row to prevent her from going on a rampage.

Sonia: 6/10: The sweetest and gentlest thing omllll 💞💞💞. She’d make sure I’m in a safe mental space so I won’t hurt myself and brings me pillows and blankets and such. But if she gets really pissed, home girl will deadass threaten the group to leave me alone. If they catch an attitude they’re gonna have to throw hands with her whole fucking country (and it is mentioned that everyone in her country learn how to work army machinery in elementary school so 💀)

Kazuichi: 5/10: I don’t know if he knows what a bisexual is 😭. He’d try to support me but his confusion would be so evident that it somehow makes me laugh enough to where I’m less sad.

Fuyuhiko: 20/10: This man has access to an entire fucking yakuza and you think that bitch will get out unscathed? He isn’t good with words, but actions speak louder than words so he gets straight to work. By the next day that bitch would be in the hospital and get PTSD by looking at babies, knowing it was a baby gangster who knocked her teeth out

[variousqueerthings]

ALRIGHTALRIGHT OK LOOK MAYBE SEASON SIX IS GOOD ACTUALLY

Or rather, ignore the main plot and enjoy your single episodes which is where the real plot is happening, because The God Complex is still so gooooooooood!!!

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 9/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored): 10/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 8/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 9/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 7/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 9/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 6/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 9/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 10/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 9/10

FULL RATING: 86/100 (if I can count….)

LISTEN THAT IS THE SECOND EPISODE IN A FUCKING ROW TO GET THIS RATING! IN! A! ROW! AND LISTEN THIS IS THE EPISODE FOR ME THIS IS MY ELEVENTH DOCTOR ERA EPISODE OF ALL TIME

Rita: Hows it going? Amy: Don’t talk to the clown!

OBJECTIFICATION: Yes Amy is back in a short skirt, but I am accepting it because it's off the back of the previous episode, so it's no longer as egregious as back in s5, when she was just wearing stuff like that in whatever weather and episode. she is indoors, and it's not a joke people make where they're paying attention to it (like back in the episode where it was funny that she "dressed for Rio")

the other lead female character in this episode is Rita, my beloved favourite Rita, my everything, and she is perfect in every way! like Mary Poppins

PLOT-POINT: this whooooole story is about interiority! it's built so that it can explore the faith Amy has in the Doctor, which deserves to be shaken! she needs to grow up! the continuous mantra of "the Doctor will save me/will be here/will sort things and I just have to wait" is finally broken, and it feels so correct after last episode to see this!

and of course Rita, my lovely Rita! the cruelty of this episode is that it holds up the whimsy and the wonder and then tears it all away, both with Amy and with Rita, and those stories echo on one another -- Rita as a potential future companion, refuses to take on the Doctor's need to be everyone's saviour and dies on her own terms, and Amy who believed in the Doctor so hard, had to stop and leave

and while it's the Doctor setting up that leaving (buying her and Rory a house), they have a conversation, they figure it out together, he tells her he's afraid of her dying or being broken, and she understands, because she already let go of her faith of him

COMPLEXITY: ohhhhhhhh I love it. if you didn't know. I love the setup. I love the mystery. I love how unsettling it is throughout! I love how well the plot serves the emotional narrative! ARHGGHHGH

see all the other points!

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: OKAY SO ALL OF THE ABOVE OF COURSE!!! but let's go through it

the way this story follows on from the girl woman who waited and perfectly rounds out that storyline, giving me the trajectory I've been wanting for Amy and her relationship with the Doctor!

the fuckn! rooms of fear! the fear rooms! THE ROOMS WITH BAD DREAMS IN THEM ARGHHH YES! what does the Doctor see? we still don't knooooowwww but it's a Tantalising mystery

and Amy, after all this time, of course, it's still the same thing in her heart, waiting all night for someone that never came back after promising to do so, this childhood visceral haunting

also the little tidbit that Amy had about thinking the Angels in the room were for her

gosh, this is just a thing that happens that idk where to put, but when Rory says "every time the doctor gets pally with someone I have an overwhelming urge to notify their next of kin," when the Doctor is chatting with Rita AND THEN SHE DIES!!! SHE REFUSES TO BELIEVE IN THE DOCTOR SHE GOES OUT WITH HER OWN FAITH!!!!!! LAYERS!!!!!!!

and of course! at the end of all of that Exploration! the Doctor buys Amy and Rory a house and a car and goes (after a heartfelt, much-needed talk with Amy) and she recognises it for what it is! "he's saving us." and the Doctor is once again alone in the Tardis

COMPANIONS MATTER: they doooooooooooooo, they do, they help out in the narrative, they support the other characters, and while it's the Doctor who figures out why things are happening, they provide bits of the clues... the paper that Amy found, Rory knowing about Howie's stutter, and Rita also tries to protect Amy

it's just an episode where it feels like the other characters are the point, they're not revolving around the Doctor, the Doctor (with the exception of glancing into his own room) is revolving around them

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: this is like... the anti-Godlike Doctor. this is literally calling out the Doctor (textually) on having a God complex and the Doctor saying stop believing in me, and it's that stopping that saves Amy and Co.

one slight down-rate, is that it's got this line at the end, the Minotaur is part of a species that settle themselves on planets to be worshipped and feed off that energy and then prison ship and ancient and that faith being poisoned and the Minotaur wants to die etc (love it) and it's obviously giving some metaphor/parallels to the Doctor, we see it

and then this line is talking about an ancient being, trapped in an endless maze and how death would be a kindness, and you're like ah yes, this is giving us added parallel, but then the writing lays it on even thicker by making the line textually about the Doctor and I was like, I get it, but it's... laying it on a taaad too thick, the whole episode is already making this parallel, it's okay, we... we got it. can lose that line!

otherwise

Rory (sadly): "You know, Howie was in speech therapy, he’d just gotten over this massive stammer. What an achievement, I mean can you imagine? I’d forgotten not all victories were about saving the universe"

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: it doesn't give us much on previous DW on the whole, it mentions Daleks, there's a Sontaran image (nu!who design), but on the whole quite light. which is fine, this episode is already doing a lot of heavy lifting

+ who knows what the Doctor saw in that room....

“SEXINESS”: WE'RE FREE FOR THE SECOND FUCKING TIME! THREE FOR THREE AGAIN ON THE OBJECTIFICATION/SEXISM/SEXINESS STUFF!

one thing is there are two jokes about Amy hitting Rory. the first is very silly and feels more like Rory is just trying to make Amy laugh in a tense situation by making an overblown joke (and it works and on its own in that context it's quite funny)

the seeecond one was just kinda there after Rory got knocked to the floor briefly and was dazed. I just don't think the undercurrent of "haha Amy is angry and violent and I have to watch out" is funny generally, but this episode doesn't do it as much as Some Others I Could Mention, and it's very obvious here, because otherwise this episode is relatively free of Nonsense

INTERNAL WORLD: OHHH MY BELOVED SPACE PRISON/MINOTAUR MAZE/80S WEIRD ENDLESS HOTEL! YOU'RE SO CREEPY! YOU'VE GOT MYTHOLOGICAL ROOTS! WHOEVER THOUGHT OF A HOTEL DESERVES MY ETERNAL THANKS! THE WAY THE CORRIDORS TWIST AND STRETCH IS SO EVOCATIVE AND UNSETTLING!

AND the internal world of the people as well, these little tidbits into their lives that let us understand why they're afraid of these exact things -- Howie the conspiracy freak and his speech therapy sees a group of beautiful girls mocking him for his stutter (probably a mainstay of his teen-years), Rita and her "take-charge" competent attitude and her deepseated religion, who's afraid of her father's disappointment, even the other two you get a sense of to some extent

it's so well-rounded in its emotional plot as evidenced through its location! glorious! and the added factor of seeing bits of others' fears (the Sontaran image said "defeat," another said "Plymouth," we meet a sad clown in one of the rooms etcetc)

they must have had so much fun thinking of this and putting this together!

POLITICS: this is one of the strongest for politics because it both has them and they work for the episode format, and they come through very naturally from within the characters emotions and the plot

that is, obviously the big thing in this episode is Rita and her faith, and the discussion of faith generally, but mainly through her! and they make it clear, she's Muslim and people have clearly been Islamophobic towards her in the past and she's nervous about the Doctor's reaction when he finds out, but she's also being very clear about it and it's what makes her powerful

Rita: This is Jahannam The Doctor (delighted): You’re a muslim! Rita (joking nervously): Don’t be frightened The Doctor: You think this is hell? Rita: The whole 80s hotel thing took me by surprise though

and

Rita: I say that without fear. Jahannam will play its tricks and there’ll be times when I want to run and scream, but I’ve tried to live a good life and that will keep me sane, despite the monsters and the bonkers rooms

it makes me really want to see the Doctor travelling with a person of faith! make it so DW!

and it's the tragedy of weaponising someone's faith like that and the respect of faith that underpins this story. we haven't had Faith like this since Satan Pit, and it wasn't as much as here. I think people don't talk about faith enough, especially multiple forms of faith, how it affects the way you live your life, and DW in some ways is quite an atheistic show, in that yeah it's literally called The Doctor a god, but it's kind of to the left of actual discussions of faith, like it'll have the Order Of Headless Monks, but they're not really grounded in anything real, they're just spooooky

it also takes us back to, what is the Doctor's belief? because only people who held deeply onto these beliefs had rooms (Rory comes out as the most bobbing-along person of all time, which is so funny to me)

the fact that the Doctor has so much respect for Rita, and also never disputes that Jahannam exists, only that this specifically is it, and respects Rita's wishes to not be seen as her faith is despoiled

can you tell I'm so into this episodeeeeeee???

FULL RATING: 86/100 (if I can count….)

CAN YOU TELL???? THIS EPISODE IS MY !!!!! EPISODE OF THIS ERA!!!!!!!!!! arghhhhh!!!!!!!

I am genuinely come around to s6 in the sense that I think you could watch s5 and be like ahhh ok whatever it was..... eh, but let's see what happens next and then watch

Curse of the Black Spot The Doctor's Wife Night Terrors The Girl Who Waited The God Complex

and have a fully rounded development of Amy and Rory and their relationship with the Doctor (I know they come back, so we'll see how they do on their next round, but these five episodes work so well together)

I have nothing more to add I think, I just. oh Rita. Rita Rita Rita. companion in my heart

[jackrrabbit]

Clean /// Sakusa x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [College dorm AU] Sakusa can’t stop thinking about you in the shower.

A/N: Indirectly inspired by @seita​ and @bakatenshii​, who made me think about soap and Sakusa’s cum in conjunction…thanks guys :P

Tags/warnings: masturbation, mild cleanliness fetish if that’s a thing?, Sakusa wants you and is in deep denial about it

It’s not like he started doing it on purpose. Not at first.

On weekdays, you wake up at the same time that Sakusa gets back from the gym: 7 AM exactly. He timed it that way because they clean the dorm bathrooms at 6:30—they’re still revolting, but they can’t be as bad as the ones at the gym. He can avoid touching the stall walls if he has to, and…he has to. 7 is the perfect time—even the students with 8 AM class can’t be fucked to wake up that early, so he gets the row of mirrors and stalls to himself.

Except for you.

Your room is right next to the stairwell; when Sakusa jogs up the stairs (two at a time, blood still pumping from his workout even though the sweat is already cooling on his back) he can hear your alarm through the thin wall. Always 7 on the dot: your phone blares an obnoxiously loud ringtone, there’s a muffled protest from you and your roommate curses at you to turn that shit off, it’s seven fucking AM. By the time he’s standing at the bathroom sink brushing his teeth, you’re usually pushing through the door in your pajamas, holding your towel in one hand and rubbing your puffy eyes with the other.

So it’s not like Sakusa plans this. It’s a coincidence. Mostly.

“G’morning…Kiyoomi.” You interrupt yourself with a yawn in the middle of the sentence. Your voice sounds heavy with exhaustion and he wonders, not for the first time, why you bother waking up so early. You don’t seem like a morning person.

The toothbrush is still in Sakusa’s mouth, so he just nods to greet you. You smile sleepily and then bend down to reach your bathroom locker, and—fuck, fuck, you’re wearing the shorts again, the threadbare cotton ones you wear whenever the weather gets a little warmer. They’re thin (so thin he can see the high cut of your panties underneath when they’re stretched over your ass, not that he’s looking), and they’re short.

Do you know how much you’re showing off when you bend over like that to rummage through your locker? You’re basically showing your ass off, the smooth muscle of your thighs rising up into those perfect cheeks, and between them, the dingy cotton stretched tight over your mound—

He’s not looking. He shouldn’t be looking. Sakusa lowers his gaze in the mirror to spit the toothpaste into the sink.

“Hey, can I borrow some of that?”

You’re standing at his elbow now, blinking up at him. Pleading. When he wordlessly hands over the tube, you grin, eyes crinkling up at the corners like he just offered to take your hand in marriage rather than letting you have some toothpaste that he wasn’t going to miss anyway. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

You barely know him. Sakusa’s pretty sure that these early-morning bathroom encounters are the only times you two interact.

“How was your workout?” you ask when you’re done brushing your teeth.

Sakusa has to grip the edge of the counter to tear his eyes away from you when you spit it out—white foam dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin—but that’s beside the point. “It was fine.”

“Yeah? Did you run or go to the gym?”

“Gym.” Why are you so curious? You’re too friendly.

You hum appreciatively, rubbing foamy circles of cleanser into your skin. The smell of it is light—floral, but barely. Lavender, maybe. That’s step one of your morning skincare routine, which Sakusa’s pretty certain he knows as well as you do by now. Next will be toner, and then you’ll save the rest for after your shower—but before you reach for the next little bottle in the row you’ve lined up on the bathroom counter, you turn toward him. “I should get back on a regular gym schedule too. Maybe one day I’ll go with you?”

“If you can wake up that early.” The remark must come out harsher than Sakusa intended, because you raise your eyebrows and your mouth drops open—but a second later you’re smiling again, turning back to the mirror so you can pat the toner into your skin.

“You’re probably right. I don’t know how you wake up at six in the morning every day.”

5:45, he wants to correct. But if he keeps talking to you, you’re going to notice he’s staring. So he just finishes washing his face without answering, puts his stuff back into the locker, and makes his way over to the shower stalls, leaving you and the scent of lavender behind.

There are five stalls. All open, of course. Second from the left has the best water pressure, and the one on the far right has a removable shower head and heats up the quickest. But Sakusa chooses the middle stall. For no reason. Not because he knows exactly which stall you’re going to pick, and he wants to be sure he’s in the stall next to yours when you do. He takes his time—undresses slowly, folding his dirty gym clothes even though they’re going straight into the laundry; sets his shampoo and conditioner and body wash out on the bench in the order that he’s going to use them; turns the knob to just the right angle to get the right temperature and waits for it to heat up until he can see the steam saturating the air.

By the time Sakusa’s under the water, massaging shampoo through his hair and feeling the sweat slough off his skin along with the shower spray, you’re done with your pre-shower skincare, padding over from the sinks to the stalls and picking—predictably—the one next to his. He has to strain himself to hear it over the sound of splashing water but he does hear it: your cheap pink flip-flops slapping against the tile floor, the relieved yawn in your breath as you stretch (you always stretch) and the soft rustling of fabric as you take off your clothes and deposit them in a heap on the bench.

Sakusa tilts his head up into the shower spray and feels the stray drops clinging to his eyelashes and wonders how much he’d be able to see if the walls were made of glass.

Today is Wednesday, and that means you’re going to wash your hair today because you always wash it on Wednesdays. Sakusa can already smell the shampoo you use filtering into the air. What is it? Sharper and more bitter than mint, medicinal almost—he’s considered asking you a few times what it is, but he can’t figure out a way to phrase the question.

Hey, (Y/N), tell me what product you use to wash your hair. Ever since I started jacking off in the shower to you, I can’t get off unless I’m smelling it.

That probably wouldn’t go over well.

Fuck, he’s already hard. The heat of the shower is nothing compared to the heat of his blood pumping down to his cock. Sakusa rinses through his hair quickly, freeing up his hands so he can palm his shaft and give it a tentative stroke.

Through the shower wall you give a light, soft sigh of appreciation, and Sakusa feels his cock jump in his hand. You prefer your showers hotter than he does—white puffs of steam are rising up over the gap between the stall divider and the ceiling, and you always come out flushed. The heat must feel nice, hm? He can almost see you, standing naked under the shower head in just your stupid pink flip-flops, letting rivulets of water drip down from the crown of your head to flow lower…over your shoulders, your back, your tits; your fingers lathering the shampoo through your hair, soap bubbles washing the grease away from you, draining away yesterday’s grime so you’re all fresh and squeaky clean.

You sigh again, and your voice is pushing out behind the breath. A moan, almost. Do you ever touch yourself in the shower? He’d be a hypocrite to think you shouldn’t be able to take advantage of this rare moment of privacy…it’s so hard to get time to yourself in the dorms, he can sympathize… So maybe you let your hands dip lower while you wash, shift your thighs apart so you can fit your fingers between them. Pet that puffy little cunt, push your fingers inside, feel your slick wash off in the water just to be replaced with more.

Sakusa wraps his fingers around his cock and slides his hand up the shaft, moving slowly so he can savor the light friction. Your hands would be soft, wouldn’t they? Softer than his. You don’t have calluses like he does—all that lotion you use must be doing you some good. And your hands are a lot smaller than his are…you’d probably have trouble getting one hand all the way around. You’d have to use both hands to hold him, hold his cock and pump him, jack him off…

If your hands are too small for him, what about your mouth?

The shower is so warm and you’re so close. Sakusa closes his eyes so he can breathe in that sweet medicinal smell and imagine you in here with him.

Your mouth. Soft lips, no makeup, just your natural color dampened from the water and your spit and his precum, closed around him, stretched around him to accommodate for the mass of his cock sitting in your mouth. Little pink tongue flicking out to tease the tip, lapping flat at the underside and then kissing it. You’d be a tease, a fucking tease. Looking up at him with those eyes, batting your eyelashes over your dewy-wet cheeks as you try to swallow him a little deeper. He’d tangle his fingers around the back of your head, push the strands of wet hair away from your face, pull your mouth up and down on his cock while the water splashes down around the two of you—

There’s a click of a cap popping shut and your shoes smacking wetly against the floor while you reach over to grab another bottle. You’re humming to yourself—a song Sakusa’s heard on his friends’ playlists and at parties but he doesn’t know the lyrics. Sometimes you sing in the shower (always softly, under your breath, so quiet he’d barely be able to hear if he wasn’t listening) but today you just hum. Maybe you’d sing out loud if he wasn’t there?

You’re probably being considerate to him...you do seem like the type. After all, you must be as aware of his presence three feet away from you as he is of yours. You probably think about him in the shower too.

Sakusa’s hips buck forward, pushing his dick through his hand as he pumps it with no real technique or rhythm, just trying to match the pace of his breathing to what he can hear of yours. The heat of his impending climax is coiling low in his belly, even though it hasn’t been long—it never takes long when he’s thinking about you. You’ve practically become a part of his own morning routine, to the point where he couldn’t even get off when he went home for spring break a few weeks ago. When the two of you move out of the dorms and go your separate ways, it’s going to be annoying. He should really stop this, wean himself off you while he can…not that he really wants to.

Your voice isn’t bad when you sing, but it’d be a lot better moaning his name.

People fuck in the showers. Sakusa knows that, he’s heard them himself and always been acutely disgusted at the filth of it all. Dorm bathrooms are notoriously foul—there’s a reason people wear shoes when they’re showering, and the thought of people actually fucking in here makes his skin crawl. But with you? He can see it, he can feel it—the soft fat of your thighs in his hands, skin dimpling under his grip as he holds you up; your arms twisted around his neck hugging into him; the hot water streaming over both of your bodies as his cock slaps into your pussy, burying into that tight wet heat.

Sakusa grits his teeth to stifle a groan and wonders if you heard it, and then he’s feeling around for the memory of your sleepy “Good morning, Kiyoomi” and warping your voice in his mind until he can almost hear your lips wrapping around his name, panting it, whimpering it, choking it out between pleas for him to fuck you harder—Kiyoomi, please, fuck me fuck me just like that, fuck my little pussy til I can’t walk straight Kiyoomi I need you!

God, he wants to hear it, he wants to say your name, wants you to know he’s jacking off to you. Sakusa’s hand speeds up and his hips are thrusting into his fist, the water making wet clicking noises every time his cockhead moves up past his fingers as he imagines fucking you right here in this shower. He’d make you cum, make you clench and tighten around him, make you wake up the entire goddamn floor with your screaming, and—fuck, he’s mouthing out the syllables, and then he can hear his own voice out loud and he’s saying your name—

“K-Kiyoomi?”

Your actual voice—lifted, high and clear as a bell ringing even stifled by the stall and the rushing water hits Sakusa and he flinches—and cums, cock jerking under his grip as the sticky white fluid shoots out to coat his hand. It’s good, so good, so fucking good, you said his name, you said it, fucking perfect—the release passes over him so forcefully that he has to hold his breath to bite back the stuttered hiss of pleasure from deep in his throat.

“Kiyoomi?” you ask again from the other stall, voice uncertain. “Did you say my name? I thought I heard you…”

It takes him a long moment to catch his breath, and another to work up enough control to straighten and raise his hand to the spray, letting the cum wash off his skin and down the drain in cloudy white trickles. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, sorry! Guess I imagined it.” You’re back to your cheerful self, humming that brainless melody and soaping yourself up without a care in the world. So gullible. Like always. And it’s not like Sakusa wanted to get caught, but…he can’t help wondering what you’d do if you knew.

Maybe you’d hate him. Maybe you’d call him a creep, stop showering when he does, avoid his gaze when you pass each other in the halls.

Or maybe you’d be into it.

Sakusa finishes his shower at the same time you do, so he can catch you just as you step out of the stall. “Oh—“ you start, barely keeping yourself from bumping into his chest. “Oops!”

Your face is stained pink from the heat of the shower…or maybe it’s the way you’re staring at his bare chest that’s making you blush. Sakusa’s not flattering himself—he knows he’s good-looking, knows what the years of athletics have done for him, and you are staring—but just for a moment before you catch yourself and right your gaze back up to his face, absently watching him towel off his hair. The fact that you let your eyes stray a little gives him permission to do the same, so he takes a moment to examine the lines of your shoulders, your soaked hair sticking to your neck, the dip of your cleavage under the fluffy white robe you’re wearing.

You smell good, all soft and wet and clean. Sakusa can’t help imagining if you taste that good, too.

“Um…s’cuse me,” you say after a moment when he doesn’t move to let you pass through the walkway. You could try to skirt around him, but he’s so big.

“What shampoo do you use?”

You blink and pat your hair self-consciously. “It’s, uh, tea tree oil? It has peppermint and lavender and stuff too I think, it’s really good for waking up in the morning—sorry, I know some people don’t like the smell—“

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” Sakusa’s eyes narrow before he steps out of the way to let you walk past.

I like it, he wants to add. But he doesn’t.

[gisachi]

Better late than never?? Supposed to post on the day itself but of course I couldn’t. This is my rushed contribution to the prompt: domestic mixed with black knight&princess.

ShinRan Week Day 6

Prompt: Domestic (+ Black Knight&Princess)

Words: ~2.5k

.

.

“Not just once, but twice! Who was it that saved my life again? Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what, uh, the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrow- sorrowful? - face under this moonlight. Oh wow this is cheesy.”

Ran leans on the arm of the couch, bound script covering her resigned face. If she had a hundred yen for every single complaint coming out of this detective’s mouth, she’d have enough to buy two entrance passes to Tropical Land for each day of the week, plus snacks and drinks.

“I went here because I thought you’d be a more immersive practice partner than ‘tou-san. You are worse.”

“I’m sorry, princess, if my mom being an actress ruined your expectations of me.”

“Oh, for sure. And otou-san doesn't destroy the scene by dropping nonsensical comments. And lie on the couch while reading the script. So he’s better by a lot.”

Shinichi props his body up, eyes rolling sarcastically before throwing a look at the lady on the edge. “To be fair, you came barging into my house so early on a Sunday. This is justified.”

“Shinichi, eleven in the morning isn’t early.”

With a stubborn grumble, the detective flops back into the cushions, script on his lap sliding to the floor. “ ’M tired Ran, long case last night, let me sleep.”

“Please, you’re my last option! School festival is in less than two weeks, and I can’t possibly ask Araide-sensei to spare time on a weekend outside of our rehearsal schedule when he’s busy working—”

The lightning speed Shinichi jolts upright causes Ran to cut herself short. “Araide-sensei is the cloaked knight?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Really? I-” she pauses, delayed in taking in the curt iciness of his response when he was so apathetic five seconds ago. On anyone else it’s clear what that tone implies, but she’s never heard it on him.

“Do you have a beef with Araide-sensei?” she asks.

“A beef?”

Ran arches an eyebrow, skeptic. Shinichi meets her gaze, eyes slightly thinning before glancing away, cheeks crimson.

“I mean— Why Araide-sensei? Shouldn’t he be busy, I dunno, being a doctor, than being a fictional knight or something.”

“All the guys in our class were too shy and declined, so Sonoko asked Araide-sensei when he happened to come in for a checkup. He agreed so easily! Would you believe he’d taken a lot of lead roles in plays when he was a student?”

“And that was fifteen something years ago.”

“He’s also good at things like emphasizing lines and handling a woman!”

“Anyone can- What?!”

“Stop being a sourpuss Shinichi, especially when you’re the first to decline.”

He looks at her quizzically. “I did?”

“You don’t even remember?” Amidst the faint pink on her cheeks, disappointment etched on the way Ran’s lips curve to a small pout. “You were the first Sonoko asked... You were so quick to turn her down, she said.”

Astounded by the revelations docking in his brain all at once, Shinichi struggles to recall the conversations he had exchanged with Sonoko the past weeks. None stands out. If she had included Ran’s name in there, he would remember instantly. But Sonoko didn’t. Suddenly, the floodgates in his mind open.

If he finds out later on about the plot and the cast, he’ll definitely find a reason or two to sulk, if not object. Whether Ran is partnered with someone else or Araide-sensei doesn’t matter, for as long as it isn’t him. Him who she’s positive would outright reject her offer to act as a prince because why would he? In any case, god knows Sonoko omitted Ran’s name on purpose for this.

The sly woman has stirred something up, and she will proudly take the front row seat on his reaction she was so sure he’d make.

Not saying Sonoko’s predictions are right. This is just how she thinks. And he won’t react the way she expects he will. She is not right.

Not. Right.

Sonoko, yaro...

“Stand up, let’s do this.”

“Huh?”

“You want immersive? I’ll give you immersive.”

Left with little time to process as Shinichi pulls her by the hand, Ran drops her script on the floor. The sudden shift in character is unbelievable. How can someone so sleep-deprived turn into someone this enthused in a span of a breath?

“But first, let me…” He leaves the room, and Ran picks up her script, still quite lost. Whatever she said earlier must have triggered something, and she’s torn if she’ll ask once he returns but considers the possibility that he may break character. Not gonna risk that. He said he’ll give her an immersive practice, and it’s oddly unexpected, but she’ll take it. This is good. After all, she needs him as the knight.

Wants him as the knight.

“Sheesh, Ran, stop…” Shying away from her own maidenly thoughts, Ran flips to the designated page, scene, and line, rehearsing as she waits.

Some minutes later, Shinichi reappears, holding his script and something else. Of all things she would expect him to own, a blue fancy Columbina mask adorned with elegant silver and royal patterns wasn’t one of them.

“Mom has these things, okay,” he explains, putting it on. Ran isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or tease, but she does neither when she gets a glimpse of him with half of his face covered, and she catches her breath at the sight.

Standing against silk red curtains and brilliant glow of afternoon sunlight, he really does seem like a mysterious knight…

“Don’t laugh, idiot. After doing this for you. Wear this,” he says, and Ran zeroes in on the line of his lips because she has nowhere else to look at as he places a small barrette tiara on her hair. Doesn’t matter what he says, what they wear, even if they fail to match the daintiness of the mask and tiara. Shinichi with this on makes Shinichi as the knight much more vivid now. And Ran as the princess...

“Sorry!” She claps a hand on her warming cheek, pulls back a dumb smile she doesn’t notice she is wearing. “And I— I wasn’t laughing!”

“Still smiling creepily though.”

“I wasn’t being creepy! Geez. Anyway! Page-”

“Page 27, Scene 8, Line 10. Got it.”

After some short blocking instructions, they drop their scripts on the couch, and begin.

“Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrowful face under this moonlight.”

Two steps forward and he removes the mask, and time slows down. She’s seen the same face a million times yet this time, her heart leaps like she’s laid eyes upon the most handsome face in the universe.

“Might—Might you be Spade?” She carries on, taking everything she can to maintain composure. “Long ago, you were banned from this land by my father… but now you’ve become the prince of Trump Kingdom...”

It’s nerve wracking, the way he’s strikingly still, eyes laden on her, either waiting for her next lines or admiring how beautiful she is with the tiara, she isn’t quite sure. The mask is gone, but he isn’t breaking character. Meanwhile, she’s trying her darned best to stay as Princess Heart of Bridge Kingdom.

“If you have… not forgotten about our childhood promise, then please…”

A nervous lump forms in her throat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and his hands find her waist, and she nearly gasps but holds it in because right now, she’s Princess Heart, not Mouri Ran asking this of Kudou Shinichi. “Please, show me on these lips.”

“As my princess so desires...”

It should be ‘the’, not ‘my.’ And there’s supposed to be another line after that, but nothing stops him as he leans in ahead of time and her eyelids flutter to the erratic beat of her heart. It’s better to be partnered with Araide-sensei in this after all. He will not mess up his lines, and she will not lose her mind the way she’s losing it now.

Two parted lips are a pucker away when the doorbell chimes, making both jolt.

Ran is first to snap out of character, as if she hasn’t had the urge to earlier.

“That—That must be Sonoko. I forgot to tell you...  I invited her in.”

“Oh, great,” Shinichi says.

Forcing her limbs into working order, Ran disentangles slowly, drawing a distance. Shinichi glances at the mask in his hand, then at her, before tossing it to the couch and turning for the door. From the window, she watches him walk to the front gate, scratching the back of his head in an annoyed manner like she just woke him from sleep, but grumpier. She hasn’t seen him display much emotion on a Sunday noon the way she’s seeing him now.

Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered him, she sighs, her turn to slump onto the couch this time.

-

“As I was saying, the prod already scouted the finest material for the costumes, and I decided, pink suits Princess Heart— Hello? Are you listening?”

Ran nearly drops the knife she holds if not for her inhuman reflexes. “Of course! Princess Heart in pink! Yes.” Like nothing happened, she resumes slathering jam and butter on the toast she’s preparing for the three of them. She doesn’t need to look at her side to know Sonoko’s eyeing her from head to toe.

“What happened to her?” The woman turns to Shinichi who sits at the high stool by the kitchen island.

“Dunno,” he says, sounding as noncommittal as he probably appears. Her back is turned against him, but she can see his face, and god why is she blushing?

“I just helped her rehearse. For the play,” he adds.

“Oh?” Sonoko’s brow perks up her forehead, hair whipping as she turns between her and the boy across them. “Did you?”

“Yup. Page 27.”

The dramatic gasp that tears from their friend’s throat is exactly the kind of gasp they expected; even so, Ran still flinches as Shinichi’s stool rakes the floor. “You kissed and I didn’t see?!”

“Hah?!”

“No!”

The two yelp in unison.

“That’s sly! You have to do it again! I’ll judge.”

“Excuse you! It didn’t happen, what you’re thinking!”

“Sonokooo!”

“Oh, shush, Ran, this is good practice. Good practice.”

“But—”

“Relax, rehearsal is rehearsal! In the actual play, once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job—”

“I’m going to the toilet,” Shinichi gets off the stool, jaw stiff, out of the kitchen.

“—with a hug than a kiss. Right?” Sonoko ends, once Shinichi is out of the room.

“What?” Ran’s expression is inscrutable as she faces Sonoko completely, the flush across her face befitting embarrassment or ire. “You’re losing me here!”

“Oh, you’re not going to kiss, Ran. The lights will dim before your lips touch.”

“Then why—” she puts down the bread and walks in haste to the island to flip through the script, “Wh— That’s not in here!”

“Sonoko-sama hereby deems the script revised now that we have Araide-sensei.”

“Eh...?!” Ran cannot explain the play of her reactions. On one hand, a cloud is cleared from her mind, having to worry no more about doing something she has no experience with in front of watchful eyes. On the other, bunch of half-formed thoughts whirl through her mind that goes, Shinichi and I almost kissed for nothing, for nothing we almost k-kissed, an almost kiss with Shinichi, almost—

“That won’t do! I mean— That’s so not you! T-To choose a hug over a...”

“Duh, Ran! Even if it’s just a play, I won’t enable a kiss scene between a student and a staff member. We can fake the kiss. That, or switch to hug. Or better yet, change the male lead.”

“Change the male lead? In two weeks? Who will agree?!”

“Easy.” Just in time, Shinichi returns, hands in pocket and long face worn all the way to the stool.  “I know someone who will.”

-

‘Once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job…’ What? Kissing Ran? Shinichi wants to puke. Sonoko needs to think things through. If this is part of her plan, it’s unacceptable, it sucks.

There’s no way, no way anyone can do a better job kissing Ran than…

“Aaaargh, what are you thinking!” He ruffles his hair in dismay, curses here and there. He only wanted to help Ran yet he almost went for it. Not as Spade but as himself. The audacity. It’s part of the script, sure, but—

If it is part of the script, then have Ran and Araide-sensei rehearsed it before?

“That’s it,” Shinichi huffs, storming out of the bathroom. If this is the kind of reaction Sonoko wants from him, she’s in for a show. Not just a show but a lifetime of curses and mental stabs. For her to go this far is unbelievable. Did Ran even agree to that? Will such a scene really happen in the play? No matter how despicable Sonoko’s methods are, he has faith she respects Ran’s preference as the female lead. No offense against Araide-sensei, but he cannot take Ran’s first kiss, whether as Spade or not.

That is not to say he knows Ran’s preference, especially when it comes to a first kiss, but… it’s not... Araide-sensei... is it?!

He cannot ascertain, not when Ran did nothing when they were about to kiss…

Okay, halt there, self. I said immersive. That’s immersive. She was acting.

All was but an act. She’s a great actress. I suck. No need to make this a big deal.

Shinichi is a pitiful mess once he’s back in the kitchen.

“My offer still stands, you know.” Sonoko sits beside him, munching a toast, while Ran is busy returning the jam in the cupboard, back against them.

“Your offer?”

Shinichi glances at Ran, then at Sonoko, with that feral grin on her lips and Shinichi does a bad job looking pissed, and it’s maddening because he is pissed, just not obvious with the blush forming across his cheek.

Reprimanding Sonoko is what he intends to do. For doing him dirty, him and Ran dirty, for dragging a staff to be the male lead, for imploring Ran to give her first kiss she’s probably saving in a different setting. All invalid reasons, when he cared less about the play before. He’s a full-time idiot, and Sonoko knows it clearly that’s why she’s offering the role again. He doesn’t want to fall into her trap, the same way he doesn’t want anyone else to be Spade when Princess Heart is Ran.

But Ran looks over her shoulder and they accidentally lock eyes, and pink blooms across her cheeks before she turns around, and suddenly the words that leave his mouth completely betray the thought process he underwent in the bathroom.

“If Ran agrees, yeah,” he says.

.

.

[secondhand-trash]

Lost in Blues

A/N: this is a rewrite of the Oikawa drabble I posted last year. To me, it was one of the things I written that I had a lot of ideas for but ruined because I was rushing it so I really want to give the idea another chance. This does not have nearly the same vibe as the old one and I think I am glad that I decided to rewrite it. I’m still debating whether I would private the old one or not but I’m definitely way happier with how this turns out than the last time round.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x reader

Description: You gave him the most reckless, carefree days of your life and you did not expect to meet him again at a wedding of all occasions after those days were long over.

Word count: 2140

(more lines I like from things I like as prompts for people I like)

-

“Is it ‘running through the airport’ kind of love?”

“The only person I’d run through an airport for is you.”

Season 2, ep6, Fleabag

-

There was nothing you could think of that was possibly worse than sitting next to your ex at a wedding.

The nicely-tailored jacket on your shoulders felt more restrictive than it had been before you looked up when you heard someone asking if it was alright to sit next to you and it was him. Your eyes widened (just slightly, very slightly and you hoped he didn’t catch it) when you saw him, giving a curt nod before shifting farther away from the empty seat so that there would be a bit of distance between the two of you after he sat down.

You were dressed to the nines, putting in way more effort than you normally would into your appearance which turned out to be a brilliant decision on your part. He looked great, as he used to be and probably always would be, with his dress shirt and polished leather shoes. You would hate to admit that you stole a quick glance at the person you knew so well when the string quartet started playing, losing to your curiosity to know how much he had changed and how much was the same. His hair got shorted, the bangs he had cared for so meticulously before now gone and pushed to the side in a way that finally stopped screaming ‘teen idol’. His jaw grew stronger, the boyish roundness of his cheeks gone without a trace. But he was still loud, even as he sat there in silence and listened to the band. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone, which was already too flamboyant as a wedding guest for your taste. The golden buckle of his belt shined far too bright with each shift of his body and you could not ignore the ring of a matching tone on his thumb as you turned your focus away when you realised you probably shouldn’t be staring at your ex’s belt of all places.

You knew you probably wouldn’t look better or even as good as he was, but you sure was glad that you were at least looking like you had a good life after exiting out of his.

You hoped he would pretend that he does not know you for the rest of the ceremony, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t.

“It’s been a while,” you had to bite back the sigh that nearly slipped from your lips when you heard him, “how have you been?”

See, spot on.

You tried to not make your exasperation too obvious as you turned to his side slightly, putting on a smile that was friendly enough to be polite but also enough distant for him to know that you were not particularly thrilled for this conversation.

It wasn’t that you two ended on bad terms, but the way you slowly drifted apart was nowhere near satisfactory either.

“Good,” you said, “you?”

His throat tightened at your clear disinterested. The more logical thing he should have done when he walked through the door and saw you at the end of the row all by yourself was to sit at the other end of the room, one that made sure you two would not be in each other’s view until the whole ceremony was over. But it had been so long, and his legs were moving before his mind could stop him until he was standing right next to you.

“Doing good too,” he replied, trying his best to keep the conversation going, “are you here with anyone?”

“No,” you swallowed the lump at the back of your throat and kept your smile on, “I’m on my own.”

“Oh?” his voice slightly sharpened, tilting his head in both interest and in shock, 

You shrugged, “My boyfriend doesn’t work here so he couldn’t make it.”

There was a brief pause.

“Oh,” he said, feeling a slight bitterness well up at the back of his throat at how ironically similar it sounded like.

He gulped, debating in his head whether it was worth risking it to say what he wanted to say.

The side that wanted to know how it was different this time won.

“Did you run through an airport for him too?” he said, trying to put on the most charming, non-offensive smile he could manage.

He was relieved that the gambling paid off when you actually let out a snort.

“No,” your shoulder pulled back slightly as you shook your head, your eyes dropping when you felt a hint of fondness welling up at the recall of the piece of memory that had been tugged at the back of your head, “I don’t run through airports anymore.”

You ran through an airport for the man who was now sitting next to you and even though it was an utterly stupid decision on your part, the reminiscence of your naïve romance brought a bitter-sweet sore to your chest. It was 8 years ago but almost felt longer, when he was about to leave the country to go to the other end of the globe. He did not tell you, that asshole who always decided everything for himself and just ran straight ahead for it. You wouldn’t even know he was leaving if you did not get your phone bombed by frantic calls from his best friend who yelled at you when you finally picked up.

“That shithead is leaving for Argentine in a few hours,” Iwaizumi sucked in a breath, sounding out of breath as he spitted words out of his mouth before you could ask him why he was telling you that, “and I know both of you are too fucking proud to say anything but if you come now, you can still make it in time before he needs to board his flight.”

“So just come, just-” you barely heard the last of his call and the sound of boys hollering from behind him when you threw your phone down onto your bag and grab the nearest shirt you could reach, “come.”

You barely made it in time to the airport and almost got lost because, hell, why was Sendai Airport so god damn big for no good reason at all. You had to run just to get there when he was about to walk past the glass walls of the departure hall, his friends holding him back by the arms when his mouth hung open in shock when he heard you call out his name from the far end of the hall.

You almost knocked him down when you crashed into him, his arms waving around aimlessly before he realised he should be holding you back instead.

"Why are you-”

“You’re an asshole and I hate that I’m doing this,” you muttered, fighting back the tears that were welling up at the corner of your eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he let out a soft gasped, but allowing the burst of warmth in his chest to take over when you let out a laugh through the sob that broke through.

It was reckless, it was embarrassing and people were probably staring but you honestly didn’t care less. You were so in love with him and for reasons you could not believe, he was so in love with you.

And at that moment when he ignored how ugly you probably looked with tear and snot running down your chin and kissed you like he had been waiting for this, it seemed like every piece of the puzzle had clicked into the right place at last.

But the fairytale ended right after the climax, when the story had to continue past the point when the prince finally kissed the princess and everyone rejoiced.

At first, the distance didn’t bother you at all. You were okay with calling him every evening to say “good morning” to him, and he gladly did the same when he was walking home to his empty one-room apartment after another rough day at practice. He told you he was tired but he felt energised again when he got to hear your voice and you made fun of him for being cheesy on the tongue while smiling ear to ear. You believed that your love could win against time and distance, he believed that you two could definitely find a way. 

The question of what would happen if this lasted and who should make sacrifices for who hung over the air, but you didn’t care. You were still so young, you had time.

Until waiting for the call to come only to get nothing but a text many hours later saying that practice held him up started to make you feel frustrated and you were tired of being expected to be the considerate one because he was the one with big dreams you should support. The insecurities he thought he could push down turned ugly when you started to have more and more friends that he wouldn’t be notified of until they appear in your pictures, some standing far too close to you that his bitterness seeped through when he couldn’t stop himself from talking about how happy you seemed to be when he finally had time to sit down and take your call.

“And what is wrong with that?” you gritted, and felt even more aggravated when you remembered seeing his teammate tagged him in a picture where they were out clubbing only moments after he finally texted you saying he was too tired and needed to rest instead of having your weekly video call, “Why am I not allowed to be happy with people who are around me?”

And you also had your insecurities, and he was young and in a place where everything was new to him, and you knew he could be having a much more reckless time if he didn’t have to think about whether it would upset you when you found out, and he knew he could not give you a good enough reason to not feel unsafe, and he already made a choice on where way he wanted to head towards when he boarded that plane.

A way that you felt would be better for the both of you if you turn back while you could still think back on the times you did love him with a fond smile.

Running through the airport was so much easier than the rest that came after.

You were still smiling but quiet until you slowly parted your lips and looked up.

“The only person I’d run through an airport for is you.”

He shared the most reckless, the most carefree days of your life but you grew up now, and now you wanted someone who you did not need to run after.

He seemed like he wanted to say something, but the stop of the strings also put a stop to the moment.

“Dearly beloved…”

“It’s starting.”

You did not talk again for the rest of the ceremony.

-

“Are you free?”

You paused your hand that was shoving your phone back into your bag after pulling it out to check what time it was when Oikawa turned to your side. The ceremony ended and it was almost 6, not too early and not too late. The sun was sinking outside and the golden rays shined through the stained glass windows of the ceremony hall. 

You blinked, “After this, you mean?”

“Yeah,” he toyed with the thick gold band on his thumb, “do you have time?”

He regretted it the moment he asked. It had been seven years since you last talked and if he had never once wanted to contact you again then he sure shouldn’t have done it now. You also had someone else, to add to it, someone who you could do long-distance with and not looked distressed when you bring it up, what type of person would he looked like now after he asked his ex if they were free after a wedding?

To his relief, you did not seem too taken aback. You only looked down, pulled your phone out again to unlock your screen and look at the time before locking your eyebrows together, putting it away when you finished calculating. 

“Nah,” you shook your head with a tiny smile, “I have a call with someone later.”

You said ‘someone’ but he caught the hint from the way the corner of your lips lifted up just a little higher. 

Oikawa Tooru laughed, something he did not expect himself to do. 

You were doing well, like him, even though in separate places and with separate people.

That was good.

So he said it, smiling without knowing that he was, “That’s good.”

He meant it.

“Yeah,” you nodded and smiled back, this time at him and with ease, “it is.”

And so did you.

[neoheros]

how would haikyuu boys react to you hitting them up at 3 am? feat. gym three squad !

tsukishima kei

listen LISTEN

i know everyone thinks he’s the punctual kid who got his shit together and has a nice bed time and stuff

but like ??? tsukki is just a lil boy who collects dinosaurs and has a crippling addiction to tiktok

this boy is awake at 3 am because he cannot for the love of god put his phone down 

he’s basically bouncing back and forth from twitter to tiktok, he’s TIRED OF IT

at this time he’s got a pretty picture of you cozily asleep in bed cause it’s like almost the crack of dawn and he’s chill with the fact that you’re healthy and taking care of yourself

so imagine how betrayed he felt when you snap him a picture of yourself holding up a peace sign with a silly grin at 3:36 am captioned “wanna get ice cream w/ me? 😗✌️”

he doesn’t reply but he does leave you on opened

and you were low key hurt cause 3 am do be the time you’re on your feels

he snaps you back though after a minute or two

it’s a video of him rolling his eyes at you but then flipping the camera to show you that he’s already on his way out the door with car keys in his hand

he’s gonna pretend that he’s annoyed but cmon guys let’s be real

he wanted some ice cream too and his fyp was showing the same stuff over and over again

plus he missed seeing you ok 👉👈

once he arrives at your door, he’s all grumpy but you don’t buy it !!! nah you see right through his act !!

tsukki: we’re buying ice cream and then we’re going to sleep or so help me i’ll lose my mind and never function again 😤

you: so i’m guessing you wrecked your sleep schedule too this quarantine huh?

tsukki, on the verge of a meltdown: if i see the sunrise without sleeping again for the eight morning in a row i’ll cry

you pat his back and you enjoy your ice cream together in his car while you both scroll through tiktok again

kuroo tetsuro

ok so contrary to popular belief, kuroo is in bed by 11 pm and wakes up at 8 am

like have y’all SEEN that man !!

y’all think he’s staying up til 4 am with THAT figure ?????

he’s got the body of a 6’2 nordic god and skin that is smoother than a baby’s bum

this boy takes care of himself and it SHOOOOOOWS !!!!!!

so anyways it’s 3 am and you’re still awake because who the hell isn’t these days like please

you knew that your boyfriend was most likely asleep by now but if you knew anything and i mean anything about kuroo is that he never puts his phone on silent

so you weigh out the pros and cons on asking him to come eat out with you and it didn’t take you that much time to decide tbh

pros: he gets to see you and it’s been so long since he has

pros: think of all the hugs and forehead kisses you both are missing out on

pros: you can ask him to bring his grey sweatshirt which always smells like his cologne that you forgot to take from him

cons: bro after thinking of that last one, the cons didn’t even matter at this point, you just missed your man like damn :(

so you facetime him and it takes numerous of rings before the call got dropped

you: oh so he’s SLEEPING sleeping :/

but then like before you could ring him up again you’re already getting another call from him

you take a second or two cause your heart was just so warm like !!! that’s my baby 🥺👉👈

you answer and he’s so pretty y’all it’s unfair like how did this man just wake up

his hair was all messy and he’s rubbing his eyes and stuff but also you can clearly see his silver chain on his exposed collar bone and NGJEJDKSKZKA

you, out of breath: h-holy shit

and his bed voice !! it’s all deep and groggy like who gave you the right ??

you swear you felt your heart stop when he went “babe, it’s 3 am,”

sir we are supposed to be social distancing please do not make me act up

kuroo, half asleep: did you need anything baby 🥺

you, on the verge of tears: i wanted mcdonald’s but instead i’m getting attacked 😤

and you just watch him stifle a yawn before his face erupts in a goofy ass smile as he goes “mcdonald’s it is.”

KENSKWNS I LOVE KUROO

bokuto koutarou

BABIE !! HE IS !! AN ACTUAL BABIE !!

i’m just gonna be flat out honest here, he’s the one who hits you up at 3 am to hang out

bc it’s quarantine and social distancing has taken so much from him already and he just wants to see his babie ok is that too much to ask

so it’s not a surprise to anyone when it’s 3 am in the morning and he finds himself in his feels cause both you and akaashi fell asleep on him and he’s just !!! 🥺

he’s nowhere near falling asleep too cause every time he tries to sleep his messed up body clock is just like nah bruh it ain’t 9 am yet 💀✌️

so he’s contemplating either going out to get starbucks alone or dragging you or akaashi out of bed

he goes with the latter cause you know what it’s what he deserves !! 😤😤

he calls you in a heartbeat after making up his mind and his heart falls to his stomach when you don’t pick up

but two minutes later you snap him a photo of you in bed rubbing your eyes with the caption “this is the earliest i’ve woken up in 3 weeks”

he laughs aloud at that and his heart is doing jumping jacks cause you’re so cute and it’s like YOU !! WERE !! MADE !! FOR !! HIM !!

he snaps you back with him in his hoodie, a wide smile and his keys brought up to his face with the text, “starbucks w/ me?”

the two of you end up falling asleep in his car on a parking lot and you wake up to see that he took off his sweatshirt to cover you from the cold 🥺👉👈

akaashi keiji

akaashi keiji is the most perfect boy in the world

so y’all can bet that the latest he’ll stay up is 11 pm with the ensured fact that he’ll wake up at 7 am

he’s a pretty light sleeper though but he never puts his phone on silent because what if he’s needed and there’s an emergency 🥺

yes he is That kind of person

he tells you everyday to try and have a better sleep schedule to train your body clock but do you listen? no 👉👈

so he’s kinda alarmed but also not really when his phone lets out a consecutive amount of notification pings

they’re all from you and at first he’s worried because woah that’s a lot of snaps and texts

but then he remembers that oh they’re all from you

anyways he wakes himself up, running his hand through his hair as he goes through the span of messages you sent him

basically ranging from “hey keiji in the tiny TINY chance you’re still awake do you wanna play imessage games with me” to “i’m so upset look how pretty that cat is,”

he had a smile on his face the whole time he read through them

he sends you a snap of his sleepy face with a soft grin and captioned it with “are you still bored and awake?”

and it takes you a minute and a second of tearing up over having the most amazing boyfriend ever before responding to him

you send him a snap of you with your hand over your chest saying, “i’m hungry now too 🥺”

akaashi, already on his way out the doorway with an extra hoodie and a bucket of ice cream: omw ❤️👍

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 16: 6PM Walks

[prev] [next]

[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

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

“What did you call me a while ago?” Kiyoomi asks Kia, not listening to what you’re saying.

“Kiyoomi, this isn’t our issue right now.”

“No, it is. She has to call me that again.”

“She won’t.”

“She will. She did it a while ago.”

“Kia’s probably playing with you,” you mumble to yourself, but you leave the two of them to continue making breakfast before the whole fiasco. You figure that Sakusa is too excited being called papa that he won’t listen to anything you will say at the moment.

“Kia say it again. What you called me a while ago,” Kiyoomi asks Kia. They are on the couch in the living room, Kia’s eyes stuck on the television screen. She ignores Kiyoomi. He takes the remote and turns the TV off. The little girl looks at him in disapproval. “Say it again and I will turn the TV on.”

“What?” Kia asks, obviously not hearing Kiyoomi’s pleads a while back.

“What did you call me a while ago?” Kiyoomi pushes, his eyes piercing through hers, begging.

“Kyo,” Kia deadpans.

Kiyoomi pouts, turning the TV back on. He leaves Kia on the couch, then goes to you at kitchen. You don’t notice him so he just leans his back on the counter, admiring you from behind. You looked so cute with his shirt and boxers on, the apron you’re wearing is the cherry on top. He’s trying his best not to jump on you especially that Kia is just there.

You, on the other hand, are slicing the apples, Saki in your mind. “That fucking bitch,” you mutter, slicing rougher than needed. “She better not show up here again.”

“Have mercy on the apples,” Kiyoomi chuckles. He wraps his arms around your waist, his chin on top of your head. You continue to slice, Kiyoomi carefully watching your hands. “Where’s the ring I gave you?”

“It’s in my bag. I took it off when we were in Universals since it was slipping off my finger. I was scared I’d lose it,” you reply. His hug feels comforting so you slow down in slicing. “Have you given up on Kia calling you papa?”

“No,” he huffs, his chin now on your shoulder. You giggle at his determination. “You’re probably shocked about what happened.”

“Didn’t know your fuck buddy was psycho,” you respond. He starts leaving small kisses on your exposed neck, so you put the knife down and turn to him. “Kiyoomi, why are you so touchy today?”

“What do you mean? I was also touchy yesterday,” he corrects you. His hands intertwine with yours as he brings it close to his. He gives all your fingers soft kisses, completely calming you down. “You seem so stressed. You should get a massage or something.”

“That sounds nice.” You smile at the thought of simply relaxing. Ever since you had given birth to Kia, time for yourself was impossible.

“Then take a day off from being a mom today,” Kiyoomi mumbles, planting a kiss on your forehead. You look up to him in confusion. “I’ll drop you off at the mall. I actually booked you an appointment at a salon and spa a week ago.” You stare at him in suspicion but he seems solely genuine about wanting you to relax.

“What about Kia?” You ask hesitantly.

“I’ll take good care of her,” he responds. “Get changed. I’ll continue making breakfast.”

After eating breakfast with Kiyoomi and Kia, they send you off to the mall. You are so excited to relax. “Me time” is rare as a mother. You shall cherish it without questions on how and why you got to do it.

As you left the car, Kia and Kiyoomi drive to another street in the city of Osaka. They leave the car, and go to a small cafe that doesn’t have a lot of customers. A woman waves at him and he goes to where she’s seated.

“Kyo who’s that?”

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

You finish your appointments at around 5:30 PM. Kiyoomi really wanted you to relax. He had appointed a full body massage for you, a hair treatment appointment, manicure and pedicure and lunch at a 4-star sushi place; he’s spoiling you.

You see his car at the driveway outside the mall. You enter his car, then you sanitize your hands. Kia is asleep so you keep quiet. You take a look at him and he looks nervous.

“Are you okay?” You ask him and he nods. You eye him warily as he starts driving off without a word. “What did the two of you do today?”

“We went to a cafe, then met up with my nutritionist. Kia is also gave him a checkup. Apparently, Kia is taller than most of her peers. She’s 8 centimeters away from 100cm and she’s only 30 months old...” Kiyoomi states in a stressed manner.

“Are you afraid she’ll get bullied by other kids for her height?” You look at him and he seemed upset about it. “On the brighter side, with her height she can be a volleyball player like you.” You reassure him, he still looks like he’s on the edge.

“It’s the flower field Kia and I went to a while ago. Do you wanna take a walk?” He suddenly suggests, looking out the window of his car. You hum as a yes, then he parks his car somewhere near the flower field.

“Baby...” You coo at Kia, taking her seatbelt off. Her eyes slowly flutter open and she smiles when she sees you. You lift her off her chair then close the car’s door.

You look around, and notice that there aren’t a lot of people. No wonder why Kiyoomi wanted to take a walk. The place is peaceful and breathtaking. Rows of different kinds of flowers, but mostly roses and tulips. You look down to Kia and see that she is staring at the sun setting over the flower field.

You finally sense Kiyoomi beside you, but the energy he’s giving is off. You take a glance at him and he isn’t wearing his mask on. Now your suspicion has risen to the highest level. You want to ask him about it but Kia suddenly wriggles out of your hold. You run after her but stop when you see two familiar boys.

“Mu-chan! Ki-chan!” She squeals in excitement, running towards the said boys. You greet them with a wave as they are standing from a far. You watch Kia run to them before walking towards them too.

“Mama! Turn around!” Kia shouts but you don’t hear properly.

“Turn! Around!” Atsumu shouts this time, signaling you turn with his hand. You raise an eyebrow at them before turning around.

3rd Year, Itachiyama Academy

August 19

“Omi... I suddenly thought of something,” you spoke, watching the sunset. You two were at his backyard, enjoying your first anniversary in the comfort of his home. “How will you propose to me?”

“Are you really thinking about marriage just because we’ve been dating for a year now?” Sakusa squinted his eyes at you. You shrugged, leaning on his shoulder.

“I’m just curious since you hate surprises. You might tell me to get my nails done a week before so it’d look good in pictures,” you joked. He let out a chuckle in agreement.

“I might do that.” He saw the excitement in your eyes. Now, he’s curious about your dream proposal. “How do you want me to propose? Do you want a grand one or a simple one?”

“I want you to propose just like this,” you replied, eyes glued on the setting sun. “You, me, on our anniversary, with the sun setting.”

“Do I have to be on my knee? The ground might be dirty,” he rambled so you pouted.

“How is it a proposal if you don’t go on one bended knee?!”

“Then I’ll do that,” he replied, determined. There was no hesitance in his response so your heart beat faster.

“Really?” You asked, hopeful. You were now looking at him and so was he.

“Yes.”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi, why?!” You exclaim as you cover your face with your hands, tears already falling from your eyes.

The Sakusa Kiyoomi who well known as a germaphobe is on his knee in front you, with a ring in his hand. You check your phone to see the date, just to make sure. August 19. You cry even harder, not able to process what’s happening. Your heart is about to jump out of your chest. How does he remember even that?

“Will you marry me?”

Unable to answer due to too much emotions, you pull him up and kiss him deeply, hooking your arm on his neck, pulling him close to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up the ground in excitement. He puts you back on the ground, then gives you another chaste kiss before slipping the ring in your ring finger. He gives it a kiss, before kissing you once more.

“Mama!” You hear Kia run to the two you. Kiyoomi lifts Kia with one arm, his other arm not leaving you. “Look! Kyo proposed to me too!”

“Kyo who’s that?” Kia asked as she and Kiyoomi sat in the same table with a strange woman.

“Is this your daughter?” The woman asked Sakusa. He nodded. Kia was still looking at her weirdly. “Hi, I’m Nako. I’m a jewelry maker. I make necklaces, bracelets, and rings. Do you wanna see?”

“Sorry, I’m late,” a familiar voice spoke, catching Kia’s full atention.

“Mu-chan!” Kia greeted him with a kiss. He sat down beside her, greeting Nako and his teammate with a smile and wave. Nako was Atsumu’s classmate in high school that has become a famous jeweler in Japan.

“Here’s the ring and necklace you have requested to custom made,” Nako told Kiyoomi, handing him two black velvet boxes. “Just as requested, a palladium engagement ring with a 2.4 carat round cut diamond. And in this box we have a 14k white gold ring attached to a 14k white gold chain. I also made sure that this won’t choke your daughter. But to be extra careful, take it off during her sleep or if she’s playing without you or your wife around.”

They finished their transaction and Nako left, leaving the boys with Kia in the cafe. “So we’ll wait for at the flower field near your house and Kia will run to us, then you’ll propose?” Atsumu clarified.

“Yes. That’s right,” Kiyoomi approved. “Please thank Kita-san for me.”

“I will. I will. We’ll meet you there.” Atsumu bid his good byes, leaving the father-daughter duo.

“Papa what’s the rings for?” Kia asked, staring at the shiny jewelry set in front of her.

“Baby, I’ll propose to your mama,” Kiyoomi started to explain. “I’ll give her this ring so we can get married and we’ll be together forever.” He tried to explain in simpler words so the child could understand.

“Why do you want to be with mama forever?” Kia questioned, which made Kiyoomi smile.

“Because I love your mama.”

“How about Kia? Do you love Kia?” Kia tilted her head to the side, her hopeful eyes peering at his. He cupped her cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“So much. I love Kia so much,” he replied. “That’s why I’m giving you this.” Kiyoomi took the necklace out of the box, presenting it to her.

“You’re proposing to Kia?” She asked in an excited manner, her hands clasped together, pressing them close to her chest. “You wanna be together with Kia forever?”

Kia started crying in joy so Kiyoomi picked her up from her chair, giving her a tight hug. Her sobs quiet down so Kiyoomi put the necklace on her. She hugs him again, giving him a lot of kisses.

“I love papa, too.”

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

Facts:

The idea and tradition of engagement rings dates back to ancient Egypt. The Egyptians believed circles were symbols of eternity.

The truth is the most popular engagement month in a year is December. 

In all, about 70% of brides wear their rings on the fourth finger of their left hand; a tradition that comes from the Roman belief that the vena amoris, or vein of love, was located there.

Wedding rings were traditionally made of gold because it was considered the most pure and valuable metal, and was thought to perfectly symbolize marriage.

[prev] [next]

Taglist:  @elianetsantana​ aoi-turtle ptv-hades  aquzairus a-applepi justoneofthefangirlsarianna-r13 morenabambinii chaelysian loser-keiji mxngy ne-kuroon1fangirlsblog d-efendmissalicebaskervillemarvelousbakugou @agaashesmilktea​ bonkyandloki kimi09 ntimacy @mkazuyuh  ushi-please minty-mangos-world @dearest-kiyoomi​ yeehawslap  onlyshinji obsessedwhxre

[ezwhump]

Russell & Lennon - Bath  - pet whump, injuries, vague-ish nudity, trained response

Steam lifted from the water in the tub, cloying the air in the bathroom. Russell dipped his hand into the water to his elbow, testing the temperature at the bottom and pushing some of the hotter water to the other end. He didn’t want to add any bath salts or scented bubble bath to it just in case it irritated Lennon’s wounds. 

Lennon stood by the sink, eyes darting around the bathroom, chewing on his lip. He’d done a decent job getting from the car to the bathroom, only occasionally stumbling and whispering hoarse apologies. Russell was slightly taken aback when he heard the kid speak, and then again when he picked up on the soft southern accent. 

“Should be alright. There are towels in the cupboard, and all the soaps are in the wall.” He gestured to the row of bottles and pumps hooked into the tiling above the tub, searching Lennon’s face for any sort of sign that he understood. 

“Do you need help with anything?” 

Lennon shook his head furiously, swaying a little, seeming coltish standing on two feet, like he wasn’t used to it. His knees were a patchwork of fresh and healing bruises, and it made Russell's stomach turn just looking at them. It was tame, comparatively, to the angry red tearing at Lennon’s throat from the collar. Russell wanted to crush that thing under an anvil the second he had time to spare, but for now it was still sitting in the trunk of his car.

“Right. Well, I’ll be just outside if you need anything, my office is down the hall. Just yell.” 

Lennon nodded, his fists knotted into his shirt, twisting and pulling. 

Russell lingered.

“Are you sure?” Lennon nodded again, and Russell took that as a solid enough cue, leaving the bathroom door ajar.

“Thank y’sir.” 

--- The cursor blinked on the screen.

- No birth records / ID 

- Age: looks around 19? Not sure. 

- Diet: unknown. Not fucking kibble.

- Allergies: unknown

- Injuries: neck, knees, scarring, wrists. Haven’t checked anywhere else. Schedule a doctors visit. A vet? 

- Set up a bed. Probably in your room 

- Cancel tomorrow’s meetings 

- Show Lennon around 

- Double check legality/paperwork 

- Call Pete 

Russell wiped a hand over his face, pushing away from the desk. Listening. He’d left the office door open  so that once Lennon was done he wouldn’t have to knock or get the wrong room. Occasionally, he’d hear the echo of a splash, or water dripping into water, and it assuaged him some. He wanted to give Lennon privacy, but the paranoia was grating as the hour passed. 

Another hour went by, and around 8:30 Russell cracked, getting up from his chair and trying not to run the few feet to the bathroom.

The light was out. Russell searched for it, flicking it on. Lennon was shaking in the tub, his head tipped back against the taps, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut. The water was murky and cold, the soaps untouched.

“Jesus.” Russell pulled out the towels and held it up. “You can come out, it's okay. Shit, I’m so sorry. Why the hell were you in the dark?”

Lennon got up out of the water, practically falling into the outstretched towel, and Russell wrapped him in it, picking up another and palming it over his wet hair. It was still matted, reeking of the trailer. 

“Hold on, I’ll drain it out and run another one.” 

It took all of fifteen minutes, while the water ran and the tub filled, for Russell to cut out the mats in Lennon’s hair. He moved gently, carefully, sectioning each piece out, occasionally petting down the back of Lennon’s neck when he got too nervous about the noise the scissors made. Lennon seemed to like that, the petting. 

He probably hasn’t had a single kind touch in years. Especially not with that godawful collar on. Not in that trailer.

He also seemed more comfortable on the floor, Russell noticed. He’d dropped to his knees on the rug when Russell took a seat on the toilet and gestured between his legs for Lennon to sit. The easy obedience made Russell prickle.

“All done. Let's get you washed.” 

There wasn’t any room to be bashful, and Russell tried to take it in his stride, using a fresh cloth and soap to wipe most of the grime off the kid, visoring his eyes with a hand when it was time to wash and rinse his hair, and only using clean, colder water to clean the cuts and tears. After a few run-throughs, Lennon’s hair was clean, and when Russell dried him over again, he noticed it was wispy. Soft and downy like feathers. Other things came to his attention; moles dotting Lennon’s neck and chest, a few on his forearms. Piercing holes, two in each earlobe. A tagging number on his neck. 

Russell brought in clean clothes as quickly as he could, tugging an old college shirt over Lennon's head, finishing with the boxers and sweatpants. They were huge on him, puddling around his ankles, the shoulder seams half-way down his arms. Russell would take him shopping tomorrow, then. It was the easiest thing in the world to toss Lennon’s old rags in the trash.

“Looking good, kid.” Russell grinned, running his fingers through Lennon’s hair again, just to check for any more matted pieces. Just to touch it again, really.

Lennon pushed into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, and he made a soft, unwilling noise in his mouth. Russell dropped his hand and Lennon snapped to attention, automatically dropping to his knees and dipping his head till it touched Russell’s bare feet. Prostrated and repentant.

Russell took a few staggering steps back and knelt down in front of Lennon, checking his face. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? You didn’t do anything. Hey.”

Lennon was whimpering a little, shrinking into himself and breathing hard. Like he was bracing himself for something. 

I should’ve set that trailer ablaze. 

“It’s okay.” Russell took Lennon’s face, so small between his hands, and rested his forehead against Lennon’s, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing so the kid had something to focus on. 

Once Lennon was matching him, breath for breath, Russell moved back slowly, dropping his hands to his lap. Lennon stared at the tile, and Russell could see the pulse in the kid’s throat. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.” 

Lennon nodded solemnly, twisting his hands up into his shirt again. Clearly he wasn’t convinced. Russell couldn’t blame him. He stood up, helping Lennon up onto shaky legs.

“You hungry?”

“No, sir.” Lennon seemed resolute, grimacing slightly.

“You tired?” 

Lennon shook his head, but it was more sluggish than before. He wasn’t supposed to admit to it, Russell realized. 

“Christ, c’mon. You can stay in my room tonight, and we’ll figure something out in the morning.”

--

tags: @deluxewhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @highwaywhump

thank you for all the love on my last post, it means the world to have such talented people read my stuff ;-; <3 hope you enjoy this one!

[mochiusagifanficchaos]

Sherlock x Mute!Reader •Part 7•

Metal crashed against metal as you yanked wildly at the handcuff around your wrist until you felt warm blood running down your ice-cold hand.

Silently sobbing you sank back on the bed. The sudden lack of noise made the dark room even scarier.

How have you ended here? What happened and why the hell can't you remember?!

These thoughts got stuck in your head, drove a rollercoaster, and made you feel sick.

Helpless you tried to remember what had happened, tried to puzzle everything together but the last thing you remember was going to bed alone in your flat.

Alone.

The word echoed in your head.

Something in the back of your mind told you that this wasn't right.

There was this feeling, this feeling of being watched. You had it right before you fell asleep.

Suddenly you remember that something was being pressed on your face. You couldn't breathe anymore and smelled something sweet. Panicking you had woken up and saw someone standing next to your bed. He was pressing you down and covered your mouth and nose with a piece of cloth.

It was Jonathan.

You screamed inside your head, wanted to punch yourself for your stupidity of trusting a man you barely knew instead of trusting Sherlock.

Your eyes darted to your left as a door was opened with a loud squeaking sound and bright blue light fell into the room.

A man was standing in the frame and threw a large shadow on the ground.

"Finally awake?", a deep voice asked with a sarcastic undertone and his heavy steps resounded through the room as he walked towards you.

"Oh, it was so easy to twist you around my little finger", he hummed as he tugged on his black curls, pulling down the wig from his head and revealing short blonde hair.

He chuckled as he saw the scared look on your face.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not gonna harm you.", Jonathan pulled a phone out of his pockets and stood there for a while, typing something, before he sat beside you on the bed and turned the camera on, holding the phone away so that you both were visible on the screen.

"As long as Sherlock does what I want."

"Let's play a game, Sherlock.", the man in the video said and grinned evilly.

Watson heard this sentence for at least the 20th time in a row now since Sherlock kept restarting the video which he received 10 minutes ago on his phone.

"Watching it over and over again won't get (y/n) back here.", Mycroft said, trying to bring his little brother back to his senses but Sherlock completely ignored him, restarting the video again.

Annoyed Watson stood up from his chair and snatched the phone out of Sherlock's hand: "That's enough now."

"I should've stayed with her.", Sherlock mumbled under his breath and ran his hands over his face, his black shirt stretched over his back and arms as every muscle in his body tensioned.

Suddenly he stood up and threw his hands in the air: "For god's sake I should've stayed with her!"

"It's not your fault.", Watson tried to calm him down, shook from his unusual behavior.

"Don't fool yourself, Watson, of course, it is! That lunatic is just kidnapping her because of me."

On Sherlock's phone popped up a message from an unknown number and Watson gave it back to Sherlock. He swiftly opened it, just to nearly drop it as he saw the content of the message.

It was a picture of you sitting on the bed, a blanket half over your shoulders and your right hand was laid over the left. It was dark but Sherlock still noticed the handcuffs and the bloody strains underneath them on your skin. Your hair was parted to both sides of your face and you had a smile on your face. A forced smile, your lips were curled up but your eyes showed fear.

The phone rang loudly and Watson jumped.

Sherlock answered the call with a cold expression.

"Such a pretty girl, don't you think?", the man on the other side chuckled darkly.

Sherlock's hand tightened around his cellphone: "Don't you dare to touch her.", his voice had a deadly sound and even Watson needed to gulp since he never heard him talk like this.

"Oh, I won't, what are you thinking of me? But you should hurry.", the man made a dramatic pause. "It's getting really cold in here."

He chuckled again before he hung up.

Slowly Sherlock lowered his hand with the phone and stared blankly out of the window.

Watson didn't dare to speak and waited for Sherlock to tell him what was up, but he stayed silent and the only noise was the beeping of the disconnected phone call.

Without a word, Sherlock turned around, threw his coat over and rushed with fast and heavy steps past Microft and Watson and down the stairs. Watson followed him to the street and just about made it into the cab in which Sherlock had hopped in.

"Where are we going?", Watson asked as the car started driving.

"The national gallery."

Your shaking ice-cold fingers were wrapped around each other, your knees were tugged under your chin and your arms were pressed at your body to keep the warmth inside.

Your teeth silently chattering was the only sound in the room, beside the rattles of your handcuffs around the bed frame sometimes when you shifted your weight.

Jonathan had left you alone hours ago, he said that he needed to prepare something for Sherlock and you were scared of what he had planned, scared of what he might do to him.

His evil laugh still echoed in your head and made you shiver more than the cold air around you.

"If you're ever scared, my love, then count to three and think of me, count to ten and think of a friend, count to a hundred and your fear will be tamed"

You remembered your mum saying this to you whenever you were scared after what had happened to you as a child. After you lost your voice.

Warm tears rolled over your cheeks as you counted to three and thought of her smile and laugh, her warm embrace and her soft voice.

More and more tears rolled down your cheeks and you began sobbing as you thought about Sherlock.

1

Thought about him taking care of you on the day you had burned your hand in the café.

2

Thought about this proud smile he had on his face when you kept the keys for the register.

3

You remembered the day when he got you out of the hospital to eat some chips together.

4

And then took a ride with you on the London Eye. You knew that he had watched you and had a smile on his face as he saw you being so amazed by the night view.

5

You thought about the days you had tried to ignore and allure him since he wouldn't talk to you about the case and ended up being followed by a slightly sad and jealous Sherlock. Now you were sure that he hadn't understood his own feelings at this time and probably was really confused why you made him feel like this.

You chuckled slightly. When you would get out of here alive you would try to seduce him even more, you loved the look on his face when he was too confused about his own feelings.

6

The picture of you sitting on Sherlock's lap, both of you sleeping, popped up in your mind.

This was the moment you got aware of that you really loved him. You never felt so safe and like home before, then in his arms.

The thought of this brought a warm feeling back and you noticed that you had stopped sobbing and shivering.

7

You remembered him entering the café after not having seen or heard from him for over three months and that smile that crawled on his face as he saw you.

8

He had pulled you in this tight hug instead of saying hello and made your heart melt.

9

A loud bang ripped you out of your thoughts and brought you back to the dark and cold reality.

You held your breath and listened to if there were any other noises but everything remained silent.

Just as you gave up on listening a bright light suddenly flooded the room and you had to cover your eyes, pressing your face into the stinky mattress.

Blinking you tried to get used to the lack of darkness and it took you some seconds to see the big tv on the opposite wall.

It showed Sherlock and Watson who just came running into a big white room with paintings on the walls and you immediately noticed that it was a room from the national gallery.

"Will you tell me now why we needed to go here?", Watson asked out of breath as he watched Sherlock examining every painting in the big room.

"The picture.", Sherlock just answered and walked into the next room. "He made her look like the Mona Lisa and where do we usually find paintings?"

"The national gallery", Watson sighted.

Suddenly Sherlock's phone rang and he hesitated for a second to pick up.



"Where's (y/n)?", he asked straight out.

"Oh Sherlock, I'm not gonna make it so easy for you. Don't you remember that I wanted to play a game?", the voice on the other side said with amusement.

Sherlock tried hard to keep a straight face: "I already solved your little puzzle to get here and I don't want to keep on playing."

A loud laugh suddenly echoed out of the speakers from every corner of the room and Watson whirled around.

"If you don't want to play the game then you won't be able to safe (y/n). Aren't you having fun? I thought you liked puzzles, Sherlock."

The voice filled the room with a dangerous atmosphere.

Sherlock remained silent, grinding his teeth.

"I see, good choice.", the voice chuckled. "You know, I'll give you something to think about: she's here, somewhere, and I already told you where."

Sherlock narrowed his eyebrows, he couldn't think of anything right now, the feeling of fear for you had crawled into him and wouldn't let go anymore.

He took a deep breath and placed his hands in a praying position to his lips.

His eyes darted fast over the paintings on the wall to find anything that would show him where you were captured.

But he couldn't find anything.

"There got to be something!", Sherlock muttered and ruffled his hand through his hair in frustration.

A chuckle echoed out of the speakers again: "Oh Sherlock, don't make it so hard for yourself. I said that I already told you where she is."

Sherlock stopped in his actions and his eyes widened.

"Stupid!", he suddenly scoffed. "My god, Watson, why didn't we notice that earlier?"

"What? What didn't we notice earlier? Sherlock!"; Watson shouted after Sherlock who already ran down the hall.

A swear escaped Watson as he chased after Sherlock's flapping coat...

Next chapter will be up next weekend!

Thank you all so much for reading and your nice comments 🥺 ❤

Tag list ❤

@misselsbells06 @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @a-paper-cut @viviace

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of jake and amy hand holding before dating (i’m convinced they did a few times before they ever dated) and also in the beginning of their relationship + getting teased by the squad 🥰

(this has definitely turned out far more emotional than you’d probably thought, anon, but I don’t make the rules when it comes to fic inspiration)

Amy Santiago is sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, laughing at something one of her friends has said, and she feels a warm hand slip into hers under the table. Jake Peralta is laughing next to her, too, but then he’s also smiling at her only, and his hand wrapped around hers squeezes three times. It hits her like a brick to the face, those three little squeezes. She finally understands them.

-*-

He’s lying in a hospital bed, and Amy thinks she’s never seen something more unsettling than a quiet Jake Peralta. The only sound in the room is the beeping of some monitors he’s hooked up to, and the only movement is his chest rising slow and steady. Something it didn’t do about two hours ago, when she was kneeling over him in some alley and screaming while the medics finally arrived and brought him back. It was a fairly ‘minor’ injury in the end, one bullet wound that the doctor’s had to close up, but it had hit some sort of vein that was important and that lost a lot of blood and that stopped his heart for the few moments she remembers stretching like hours in her mind. She doesn’t remember much else, especially not the medic’s or doctor’s explanations. They’d taken her along in the ambulance, because she was his partner, and she was allowed to sit in the hospital room he was recovering in now, because she was his emergency contact, too. She could’ve been nothing after today. Because the bullet from that gun wasn’t aimed at Jake before he pushed her to the side.

Amy looks down at her hands, folded in her lap, pinching each other to remind her she’s awake, she’s here, and so is Jake. Not awake, but here. Still here. They’re squeaky clean, her hands, because she’s spent a good fifteen minutes in the hospital public toilets scrubbing them free of his blood after he was rushed into surgery and she was left behind, alone in the waiting room, her sensible grey pantsuit coloured red all over her arms. She had a list of things to do in her head - contact Captain McGintley to follow the chain of command, and Terry so something would actually get done. Figure out how and who can transport Peralta home and take care of him, if he gets to go home. (He will. He has to. She will take him.) Call Rosa to find out if they booked the perp properly, and that they add assault with a deadly weapon to his rep sheet (not murder, although that’s what he did, that’s what happened). But she couldn’t do any of that, because she was still shaking, her heart was still racing, and all she could see was his blood on her hands, warm and sticky and dark and drying into a rotten brown shade already. So she washed them clean, and then scrubbed some more, and some more, until she felt as red and raw as the wound in his chest had looked in the ambulance when they got his shirt off. (The jacket of her suit is rotting away in the toilet trashcan now, and she’s shivering ever so slightly in only her short-sleeved blouse, but it is clean and there is not a hint of Jake’s injury anywhere anymore, except in his gaunt cheekbones and the pale colour of his face, and the silence of the room.) His hand twitches while she’s staring at her own, and if it’s instinct or reflex of whatever that makes her reach out and grab it immediately, she doesn’t care. His hand is warm under hers, and it twitches again and then wraps its fingers around her and holds her, steady and calm. He blinks awake, a little disoriented, but then he focuses on her and - smiles.

“You’re okay.” He says, and that’s what breaks her in the end.

She doesn’t outright sob or anything, but she does let her head drop so her hair is hiding her face, hiding the tears he doesn’t need to see first thing after waking up from literal death. She feels his hand pull on her to make her look at him, though, and she can’t deny him, even if her tear-streaked face is probably not a good view.

“Hey, no- don’t-” He rasps, his voice still coming back, “I’m okay too.”

She laughs through her tears, a short little snort, but it helps calm her down - and him too, it seems, because he smiles again.

“You’re far more than just okay, Peralta.” She smiles back, and feels his hand tighten around hers, three little, but distinct squeezes.

-*-

She shouldn’t feel this nervous. She’s a cop, a detective. A good one. She’s done this before, and it’s never been nice, but it’s always something she’s gotten through.

But she fears tomorrow’s court date more than anything else in her life right now, which is why she’s trying to drown the thought of it at Shaw’s. The hangover will probably not be helpful with her witness statement that could possibly make or break this ruling, but her panic demands more alcohol. However, the next beer she orders at the bar is intercepted by a larger, more calloused hand than hers.

“Alright, Santiago, that last one was your sixth, and I really don’t need to deal with Seven Drink Amy tonight.” Jake says as he settles down next to her, hands the beer over to Rosa, who leaves them alone at the bar before Amy can whine and complain.

“I need that drink, Jake. It’s my only friend right now.” 

“We both know that’s just Six Drink Sadmy speaking.” He pats her arm as she spreads out over the slightly sticky bartop and whines some more.

“You’re worried about tomorrow.” He continues, reading her thoughts like he sometimes does, which is such an annoying thing he can do. His hand is still on her arm. “You don’t have to be.”

“That girl’s entire life is at stake. And the gang boss is going to kill me and her if he gets off-”

“He’s not going to get off. Not if you tell them exactly what you told the lawyers taking your written statement.”

“Says you.”

“Says Sofia.” There’s a weight to those words that hits her stomach, and it’s only partially the fact that a damn defense attorney is on her side. The other part of why those words from the woman Jake started dating just recently hurt her, she doesn’t want to think about. “Look, I’m gonna drive you home, you’re gonna take a hot shower to detox, then you’re gonna get your perfect 8 hours of sleep, show up at court tomorrow in your best, darkest pant suit, and rock this like you rock everything else.” His hand has wandered down her arm to her hand, now, flips it over to hold it, and it’s pure coincidence that their fingers spread and interlock, surely. “Okay?” He asks one more time, and she sighs.

“Teddy can pick me up-”

“Teddy’s at that conference, remember.”

Oh, right. Something that had been lost to memory between drink three and four, the fact that her boyfriend had booked himself into a seminar the week the court date was announced. It’s a really good one, he’d said, if she wasn’t already busy he would’ve asked her to join, too. Already busy. Regular Amy doesn’t get punchy a lot, and maybe it’s her closeness to Seven Drink Amy right now that makes her want to knock him out for that, but she felt that way when she helped him pack his luggage two days ago too, and she was stonecold sober then.

“Okay.” She nods and tries to get off of the barstool, wobbles quite heavily. “Take me home, Peralta.”

He snorts a laugh and obviously swallows down some sort of joke as he pulls her into a standing position, their hands still locked together. She thinks she imagines it at first, but even after she’s sobered up the next day, she remembers those three short, tight, almost painful squeezes before he let go and steered her to his car.

She doesn’t have much time to think about it, or about how she basically held hands with her best friend while both of their partners were out of town, either. Or how he helped her into her apartment and waited until she was showered and had downed some water and aspirin before tucking her into bed. She can’t think about any of that, because she has to get ready for court.

And when she sits down in the witness’ chair, the gang boss on the bench before her staring her down with murder in his eyes, she notices a set of dress blues in the otherwise thin crowd of people who were allowed in to watch the trial. Three rows down, Jake gives her a silent thumbs up when their eyes meet, and she feels the phantom of his hand again, squeezing hers three times before she begins to speak.

-*-

They’re gonna die. She’s certain. They’re gonna die in here, in this cramped little closet, wedged between some industrial shelving and a broken down sink.

Jake had pulled her in and locked the door behind him, squished her against the wall and himself against the door, and killed the radio on her shoulder as well as his own. The last thing they’d heard crackling through it was “four officers down”. Someone had fallen behind her when she ran for safety, and for a second she thought it had been Jake. That he was standing here now, almost pressed against her in the tight space she would usually panic in, that she could feel his erratic breath on her ear, his racing heart under her hands, was pretty much the only comfort she had left.

She wonders how long it’ll last.

The mission had been an absolute bust. They had expected a gang. They had not expected a well-armed mafia. And now officers were wounded, or dead, and they couldn’t use their radio to find out anything, for fear of being discovered. She can hear gunshots and shouts from further away, and it’s only her paranoia that make them sound as if they're getting closer, but Jake is listening just as intently. Amy thinks of Rosa and Charles, who were on the other side of the building. She thinks of Terry, who’s probably trying to reach any of them by radio from his station in the surveillance van. She thinks of Holt, and can’t see where he might be right now, still next to Terry or commanding whatever backup might be coming in or-

She feels Jake’s hand wrap around hers, still pressed against his chest, and realises that she’s been hyperventilating. If she gets any louder, she’ll give away their position. His forehead against hers is cold, colder than he usually is, clammy with sweat, but the simple pressure of it helps her focus. She can hear him breathe deep, slow, exaggerated, and understands that he’s doing it for her. He probably thinks she’s having a panic attack because of her claustrophobia, or maybe all things at the moment combined. He’s not that far off. She breathes with him, feels the air from their exhales swirl between the few spaces were they don’t connect. There aren’t many. If she looks up, she could kiss him. She’s not quite that sure that she’s going to die in here anymore, but she would definitely hate herself if she did and never found out what that felt like, or if her last kiss on Earth was really from Teddy the night before they broke up. But when she moves her head, she meets his eyes instead, pupils blown wide in the darkness around them. He looks scared and terrified, and his heart under their combined hands is still racing, and the last thing he needs is for Amy to confuse him before they go out in a hail of bullets, action-movie-style, which he’d probably love if it wasn’t so real right now. She wants to say something, anything to calm him down, but she can’t speak, and not just because there are footsteps approaching outside their door.

She feels his hand tighten around hers, three times, faster than before. And then he pulls her into a close hug when the door behind his back opens to reveal blinding light, and she realises he’s shielding her, has been ever since he pushed her first into this storage space. He only lets go when they both hear Terry’s voice, and the Captain’s, the first telling them they are safe, the second immediately trying to update them on the situation with the SWAT team. He holds her hand a second longer than the rest of her, and the three squeezes that follow are far softer and slower than the ones before.

-*-

Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta are sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, laughing at something one of their friends has said, and she feels his hand slip into hers under the table. For only a split second, she’s tempted to pull her hand away. It’s still so new and shaky and unsure, their whole thing, yet at the same time it isn’t. It’s been growing for so long, between them and around them, it feels like it’s always been there. But the rest of the squad is still pulling excited faces whenever they get a little closer, Charles still squeals at every mention of their ‘evenings together’, and Rosa has rolled her eyes so hard she almost strained a muscle the first time she heard Amy refer to Jake as ‘babe’ in front of her. It’s all a little bit embarrassing, and sometimes she wishes they’d stuck to just one of their rules, of not telling anyone until they figure it out. But then she wonders, what was there left to figure out? She was with Jake, and she wanted to be with Jake, and deep down, she could see none of that change at any point in time. Forever, possibly.

Charles is still talking, riding the wave of getting their laugh, but then Jake’s smiling at her only, and his hand wrapped around hers squeezes three times. It hits her like a brick to the face, those three little squeezes. She finally understands them. She remembers them from before, from tense moments and situations of fear, from where he’s been there for her at the worst parts. Holding on tight and feeling the three little bursts of pressure, only wondering a long time later if he did it on purpose, or if it was some sort of reflex.

She feels it again now, and she can finally hear it.

I. Squeeze. Love. Squeeze. You. Squeeze.

[pascalscenarios]

THE ONE (Frankie Morales x Reader)

THE ONE

Frankie Morales x Reader  

Summary: Today’s your big day, your wedding day.

Warning: None

Words: 2746

Authors Note: Buckle up!!! This one… I cry. I hope you are all doing well! Please take care of yourself and stay hydrated. I’m finally on spring break thank god lol. If you are in school and have midterms I wish you luck! The school will be ending shortly, We’re almost there! Keep pushing! 

We have one more chapter left! :( Enjoy!

- K

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 5.5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 |

Chapter 9

Today was your wedding day. You had a sleepless night, tossing and turning. You were kept up thinking about what Santiago had said to you. You laid in your bed on your side. All your bridesmaids were up already, gathering everything they needed to start getting ready. You were getting married in a beautiful garden there was across the street.

“Let’s go! Today’s the big day!” One of them said happily as they pulled the covers off of you.

“Come on, I have to start doing your hair!” one of them shouted from the bathroom.

You groan, setting up in bed. You yawn, shaking and running your fingers through your hair.

“Gosh, you look tired! The bags under your eyes!”

“Don’t worry I’ll cover it up!” one shouted from the bathroom

“Gee thanks…” You rolled your eyes and rubbed your face. “I couldn’t sleep…” You say.

“It's probably just nerves, but it’s fine! Today is going to be one of the happiest days of your life! Now come on out of bed, we only have a few hours!”

“Can’t we eat first?” you groan.

Your maid of honor shoves a Donut in your face. You huff taking it from her, taking a bite. She drags you out of the bed, leading you to the bathroom, plopping you down in the chair in front of the vanity.

“Alright let's crackin '!”

All your bridesmaids were ready, their hair and makeup had been done. Yours was done as well. You were in the bathroom changing in your outfit.

As you slipped on your outfit. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You felt different compared to the first day you had but it was in the bridal shop. You were beaming, happy and so excited. You felt amazing. Looking at yourself now, you felt none of that. A scared and unhappy person stared back at you. That excited person was long gone.

You couldn’t call off the wedding now. You were getting married soon. You couldn’t do that to everyone, to Alex.

“You alright in there?” Your maid of honor asked through the door

“Yeah, I’m coming out.” You quickly pulled yourself together, putting on a fake smile. You walk out and all the bridesmaids gushed.

“Oh my god, you look amazing!” They helped you fit your outfit and zip up the back.

You walked over to the full body mirror continuing to stare at yourself.

There was a knock on the door, the bridesmaid opened the door. “People are arriving! It’s almost time! We’re heading down to the lobby” One of the groomsmen said peaking in the room.

“You guys go, I’ll meet you down in the lobby.”

“What? No! We have to-”

“Just go! I’ll meet you down there! I just need to do something real quick.”

“O-okay” The girls were confused but listened to you. They left the door open for you as you left.

You stared at yourself in the mirror trying to pull yourself together. You were freaking out, hyperventilating. You walk over to the window, pulling back the sheer curtain. Across the street, you could see the garden, the white tents set up for the wedding. You could see your and Alex’s friends and family walking and wait around.

“Oh god,” you signed. You shake your hands trying to get the nerves out, you walk back over to the mirror, staring at yourself.

You heard a knock on the door. You groaned, “Seriously, I want a few minutes alone is that too much to-”

“Wow” you hear a stunning voice call out behind you, you look in the mirror you were standing in front of noticing Frankie standing in the doorway. “You look beautiful Smiles…”

“Frankie” you breathed, quickly turning around to face him. “What are you doing here?”Although you invited him to a wedding a while ago, and after everything you two had been through, you thought he wasn’t going to show.

“I told you I wouldn’t this day for the world.”

Your heart began to race, your chest began to heave. “Y- you're not supposed to be in here, you're not supposed to see me, you do not suppose to be up here-”

“Pff that’s the groom.” He chuckled. You weren’t laughing. You just stared at him with wide eyes.

“Look I know I shouldn’t be in here, but I needed to see you.” He walks up to you, grabbing ahold of your hands.

“I just wanted to tell you, I’m happy for you. You deserve to be happy, and I know Alex will give you that, give you all the things you ever wanted in life. Alex is so incredibly lucky to have you.”

You continued to breathe heavily as I stared deeply into his eyes. You didn’t want to cry, but you were on the verge of tears. Your lip begins to quiver. “Frankie-” you croaked.

“Woah, hey it's okay.”

You began to sob. He places his hands against your cheek, his thumb rubbing just below your eyes, wiping the tear that fell.

“I-I can’t do this- I gotta leave-I can’t go out there-” you said quickly between sobs. He spins you around, walking you back to the bed so you can sit down.

He crouches down in front of you, still holding your hands, his thumps running on the top of them trying to help soothe you.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Smiles. You’re gonna walk out there a-and you’re gonna marry Alex. Everythings gonna be great, you’re gonna be fine-”

“Things aren’t fine Frankie…” you wailed.

“Please don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry…What’s wrong? Talk to me…”

You stared down at him. He looked up at you with worried eyes.

Listen to your heart. “...Frankie, I-”

“Come on we gotta-” Your maid of honor walked in catching you and Frankie.

Frankie drops your hands from his and quickly stands up. You stand up too, quickly whipping your eyes to cover that you’d been crying but your eyes were puffy.

Your maid of honor stands there awkwardly, not knowing what you say.

Frankie turns to you. “It’s gonna be okay. I wish you the best. I love you, Smiles.” he whispers, leaning in planting a kiss on your cheek. He quickly walks out of the room.

“Frankie!” You called after him. Your hand touches the spot on your cheek where he had kissed you.

“What was that all about? Was that him? Was that guy your ex-” She gives you a look.

“Can we not talk about it please…” You say walking to the bathroom quickly fixing your makeup.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Nothing happened” you walked out of the bathroom. “Come on let’s just go.”

…

You made it down to the lobby, the rest of the bridesmaids and Santiago stood waiting around.

Santiago could tell that something was wrong with you.

“Alright ladies, just start walking over I got, Smiles” Santiago announces. All the girls headed out the sliding glass doors of the hotel.

Once they are all gone, he turns to you.

“I saw Frankie come down. Was he up there with you? He just ran out of here so fast, he didn’t even stop to talk to me.”

“Let’s go.”

“But-”

“Santiago, please just drop it.”

“Okay,” he says, putting his hands up in defense. He bends his arm, signaling for you to take it. You look your arm around him walking out of the hotel and across the street to the garden.

“Alright Smiles is here, lets go!” One by one your bridesmaids walked down the aisle.

You felt numb as you and Santiago walked down the aisle. You spotted Frankie august the crow of family and friends. All eyes were on you, but you only seemed to notice those brown eyes you adored. You both couldn't take your eyes off each other. Your gaze was supposed to be in front of you at Alex, but Frankie was your main focus.

Alex stared at you, wondering why you weren’t looking forward to him. He looks in the direction you were looking in, noticing Frankie in the crowd of family and friends. He noticed Frankie was looking at you as well.

Frankie was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, his mouth gaped open. Frankie quickly closed his mouth, swallowing hard. He needed to leave. He thought he could sit through the ceremony and watch you get married, but he couldn’t.

As you make it to the front, you take Alex’s hand, smiling up at him, but he gives you a frown, his eyes sad.

Frankie moved through the row, excusing himself as he walked by people. When he got to the end, he started to stealthily make his way to leave.

As you stood in front of everyone, noticing Frankie leaving the garden. Watching him walk away, you knew you needed to go after him. You loved him. You loved Frankie. You could deny your feelings any longer. Frankie was the one you wanted to be with. You didn’t care about anything else. All you knew is that you loved him and you desperately need to run after and tell him before it's too late.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today-”

“Stop” you announce to the officiant of the wedding as they stare deeply at you. Everyone in the crowd gasped and whispered, confused as to what was going on.

“Go,” they say.

“W-what?”

“Go after him” he motions down the aisle. “I know your heart isn’t in this. It’s not with us.”

“Alex, I’m so sorry, but I can’t marry you...”

“I know...I saw the way you two were looking at each other when you were walking down the aisle. You love him and he loves you. Yeah, not gonna lie, this hurts, but I’m letting you go. Your heart was never mine, to begin with, because it’s his. It’s always been him.”

“Alex I’m so sorry for everything, I truly am...I’m sorry for stringing you along like this, I’m sorry I couldn’t amid what I truly felt earlier...Deep down I’ve always known that I was still in love with him, but I tried to deny it because of us. Part of me wanted to be with him, but I was scared of getting hurt again, but you... You’re such a great person and are so kind. I- thought I could make it work, but this isn't what I want. I’m so sorry for everything Alex and know that I do love you and you’re going to find someone who loves you so much more than I ever could.”

Alex smiles sadly.

“I just want you to be happy. I hope things work out for you and Frankie.” He kisses your forehead.

“Now go get him!”

“Thank you, Alex” You smile. A commotion started in the crowd as they watched you run down the rain down the aisle. You heard some people yelling angrily, cheering you on, or confused.

You ran out to the garden, stopping as you made it to the sidewalk right outside the entrance. You look around to see if you find Frankie around. He shouldn’t have gone far.

“Frankie!” You shouted as you turned, desperate trying to figure out what direction he had gone in.

“Smiles!’ Santiago says quickly running up behind you.

“Santi!” You grab his arms.

“I gotta find him! I gotta find Frankie! I gotta tell him I love him!” You say quickly.

“Come on, I park my car in the parking structure at the hotel!”

You quickly slip off your shoes, the two of you dash to the hotel parking structure across the street. You both hopped in the car, Santiago, swerved on out of there. “Here take my phone, try to get in touch with Frankie!” He placed his phone in your lap and she drove like a maniac.

You quickly pick up his phone dialing Frankies number.

It rang and rang, and rang. No answer.

“Ugh, come on Frankie!” You groan in frustration.

You tried calling several more times, but they all went to voicemail.

“Voicemail again”

“Try calling Lilah!”

You look for the Lilah number under contacts and dial her number.

“Hello?”

“Lilah!” thank god she answered.

“Smiles?”

“Do you know where your dad is? Is the home? I’m trying to get a hold of him!”

“No...I’m over at my friend Rehma’s- oh my god, are you going after him?” Lilah gasped. You hear her friend gasp as well.

“Yeah, I am.” You could help but smile.

Shrieking and hollering of the girls came from the other end of your phone, you pulled the phone away from your ear, you and Santiago laughed listening to them scream.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy right now-Um I'm gonna go home and see, if he does come home I’ll let you know

“Thank you!”

“Yes, of course, good luck!” The girls shout happily.

You hang up the phone.

“He’s not home, but she’ll call back if he comes back,” you tell Santiago.

You sat there thinking. Where would he have gone?

Then you remember. The lake.

“Santi, the lake. He might be there. I remember when he took me, told me he likes to go there to think.”

“We’re driving in the wrong direction then,” he quickly turns the car, making an illegal U-turn.

…

By the time you got to the lake, the sun was setting. Slight orange remained in the sky. Santiago parked right next to Frankie’s pickup truck. He was here but you didn’t know where. You get out of the car, Santiago comes to your side, learning again his car.

“I’m gonna stay here...Go get him.” He smiled.

You smiled at him and walked a few yards towards the dock on the lake. You look trying to see if Frankie was somewhere out on the lake.

Off in the distance, you notice a fire near the campsite area. You quickly walk towards the light source. As you make it closer, You see Frankie sitting on a log, in his tuxedo, roasting a marshmallow.

Frankie saw someone walking towards him. He looks up, seeing you making your way towards him.

He stood up from the log, staring at you. His face was in shock. You were supposed to be getting married. He had to be dreaming. You were quickly walking towards him.

“Smiles? What are you-”

Before he could finish the sentence, you rushed up to him, tightly gripping his loose tie, yanking him in for a kiss. He was taken by surprise, dropping the marshmallow he was roasting onto the ground, his hands grabbing your hips, pushing you closer to him. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pushing your body closer to him as well.

You pull away. “Francisco Morales, I love you.” you begin to cry.

He’s waited years to hear you say those words again. This time he pulls you into a kiss.

“Please tell me this is real..please tell me I’m not dreaming” He rests his head against yours

“It’s real…this is real.” you sobbed. He pulled you tightly into a hug.

“Say it again..”

“This is re-”

“No, that you love me...I need to hear you say it again…please say it again” he desperately moans.

You giggle through your sobs “I love you, Frankie. You and only you. It’s always been you. I’ve tried so hard to deny and ignore my feelings for you since you came back into my life, but I can't keep pushing it away. I’m crazy about you. I want to be with you, spend the rest of my life with you... I’m yours, I’ve always and forever been yours, you have my heart.”

He sighed in relief, laughing. You giggled as well, as you rested your head in the crook of his neck.  

“I’m sorry for everything, smiles. I really screwed us over all those years ago..”

“I know you are,” You say running your hands through the back of his hair.

“ and I forgive you, Frankie. The past is the past. We’re focusing on the present, right now, this very moment, we love each other, that's all that matters.”

“I love you so much, Smiles”

“And I love you”

“...So...You want a s'more?” He says as he continues to hold you in his arms.

You laugh looking up at him.

“Yes, I would love one.” You say planting a kiss him.

tags // @icanbeyourjedi @im-an-adult-ish​ @sara-alonso​ @lydiascottage​ @eternalkara​ @back0nmybullshit​ @wifeofdindjarin 

[my-unmanageable-mischief]

Love Triangle

For the Anon who requested : Can u write something like the james/lily/snape thingy but with harry/draco/reader where the reader ultimately ends up with harry?

When you were sorted into Gryffindor, you felt like your world had ended. You were going to disappoint your father, you were going to lose your best friend, Draco, and you weren’t going to be a lonely outcast. At 11 everything is the end of the world. However, you were lucky, unbelievably so. Your parents eventually came around, “At least we know she’s brave,” he had said. And while you spent the first few months of school without Draco, he had come around as well. You were still best mates, thicker than thieves. A shining example of inter-house friendships. Even if you did tease each other mercilessly. You even found friends and a home within Gryffindor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had become your best friends- despite Draco’s protests. 

Years later, you were a 6th year now, one more year until you graduated, and you were content with everything you had in your life. But change was on the horizon. Draco wasn’t acting himself, and frankly, neither was Harry. You worried about both of them, worried for them. Draco had missed two of your Friday study sessions in a row, a tradition since you were 11. And Harry was so caught up in that book and his own head when you were with him, he wasn’t even there. 

You were sitting in the common room, Harry and Hermione were bickering about his potions book and Ron was sitting by the fire ignoring them. You were lost in thought. The mention of your inner thoughts brought you into the current conversation. 

“Draco is a death eater, I know it.” Harry barked at Hermione, who glanced quickly at you then back to Harry. 

“Harry…” She started but you cut her off. 

“No, he isn’t,” You snapped, and Harry’s gaze turned to you, souring. 

“Of course you’d say that,”

“Because he isn’t.” You held his gaze with your own, “You’re overreacting, a habit really.” 

“I saw him in Knockturn Alley this summer, Y/N, what respectable wizard goes there?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“His father is one,” 

“And everyone is exactly like their father? You don’t know him.”

“And I don’t care to, how you're his friend I’ll never know,” He scoffed, and you continued to glare at him. 

“It’s cause he’s got a crush on her,” Ron added from the carpet below them. “She likes the attention,” 

“Ron!” Hermione snapped, and you turned your glare from Harry to him. 

“I like the attention?” He merely shrugged, looking away again. “I see. Fine. I’ll leave you lot to it then.” You gathered your books, shoving them into your satchel before huffing and storming towards the girl’s dorm. Hermione continued to glare at both boys. 

“Why would you say that?” She questioned, Ron shrugged again. “You two are impossible.” 

“You birds are always annoyed by something,” Ron shook his head. Hermione let out a huff similar to yours and followed your actions, gathering her own things. “Hey, what about helping me with charms?” Ron asked, Hermione, shook her head, still glaring. 

“Do it yourself.” She, too, stormed towards the girl’s stairs. The boys sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other. 

“You didn’t need to say that,” Harry finally mumbled, Ron sat up, looking at his friend. 

“It’s true, she likes the attention he gives her, it’s a girl thing.” 

“Maybe she likes it because she likes him,” Harry suggested and Ron made a face. 

“How could she?” Harry simply shrugged, looking down at the cover of his worn-out book. “You should tell her mate,” 

“Tell her what?”

“That you like her, and that you can give her attention.” 

“She doesn’t want that,” Harry stood up as well, grabbing his bag, “I’m going to bed.” Ron hopped up as well.

“Yeah, I’ll come too.” 

In the girl’s room, you and Hermione sat on her bed, both steaming. Hermione sat up straight, ranting, her hands flying a mile a minute, as you lounged back against her pillows, arms crossed, head nodding in agreement. 

“They’re both terrible! I don’t get it, Harry, with his book, and his head up his arse, doesn’t even see what is really going on around him, he just talks, he’s clueless! And Ron, don’t get my started on Ron, he’s a thick-headed git, he-”

“I’d hate to see you started.” You joked smirking slightly and Hermione chuckled, dropping her hands. 

“I’m sorry they were being rotten to you,” You shrugged, playing with the hem of her duvet. 

“Draco isn’t a death eater, I’d know.” You murmured and Hermione nodded. “He isn’t, Harry just hates him for no reason,” 

“They hate each other,” She corrected gently, “It’s mutual, they always have. Harry is... jealous.” 

“Jealous?” You laughed, rolling your eyes, “What do you mean?” 

“Draco does like you-”

“Hermione not this again,” 

“Come on it’s obvious.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes, “He’s always loved you,” 

“Okay? So? Maybe? But why on earth should Harry care about who does and does not have a thing for me?” You questioned and Hermione looked at you pointedly. “No,” You shook your head wildly, “Hermione, no,” 

“He likes you,”

“No, he does not,”

“Y/N, come on,”

“Hermione! You come on!” She nudged you gently, and you slumped down further into her pillows, “Come on, you’re taking the piss,” 

“I’m not.” She looked at you seriously, “He likes you, and he knows Draco does too, and he doesn’t like it.” 

“Why not, I don’t know, talk to me about it?” 

“They’re boys,” You both chuckled at that, then there was silence for a moment as you processed it. 

“Really?”

“Really.” 

“I didn’t think you were coming.” You looked up at your friend as he approached your usual table in the library. He looked down at his hands as he sat, he felt guilty. Good. “You’ve stood me up three weeks in a row. I almost didn’t come myself.” 

“I’m sorry,” He sighed, looking up at you, “I really am,” You nodded, reaching over to put a hand on his arm, to which he flinched. You retracted your hand. 

“Draco, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You looked at him pointedly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugged, “Nothing,”

“That might work on someone else, but I know you a bit too well to buy that, talk to me,” You prodded, and he sighed. 

“You wouldn’t understand.” You nodded, placing your hands flat on the table in front of you, looking there instead of at him. 

“Are you upset with me?”

“What? No, of course not.” You nodded again, shrugging. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” 

“I’m sorry,”

“You mentioned,” You glanced up at him, trying to catch his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at you either. 

“I’m just stressed with school and stuff,” 

“Stuff?”

“I can’t talk about it, Y/N,”

“Can’t or won’t?” You questioned him, and he finally looked up, his grey eyes were dark and heavy, and he looked more serious than you had ever seen him. 

“Can’t.” You nodded, holding his gaze.

“Okay,” it came out in a whisper, and it felt appropriate somehow. “I’ve missed you,” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he reached over to grab your arm this time, squeezing.

“I always miss you, trust me, I think about you constantly.” You thought back to your conversation a few nights before with Hermione and your cheeks began to heat up. Draco tilted his head, catching it immediately, “What?” 

“Nothing,” It was your turn to be invasive. Draco frowned, squeezing your arm again.

“Is that so?” You didn’t answer, you looked down at where his hand was on your arm, swallowing thickly. “Y/N?”

“Do you like me?” You asked, suddenly, looking up at the boy who was turning into a man before your eyes. Sometimes you still saw him, 8 years old, and so carefree. Those were different times. You watched him, his own thick swallow, his eyes looking around, his cheeks slightly rosy. He did. But would he tell you? 

“Why?” He questioned you back, and you smirked slightly. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“What if it is,” He removed his hand, scratching the back of his head nervously. You paused. What if?

“I don’t know,” He nodded, face closing off, you frowned, reaching for him. “I don’t know, Draco, but it’s not bad. Okay?” He glanced up, smiling slightly. 

“Whatever you say.” 

You couldn’t see through your tears, you were furious. You entered the common room like a storm, looking around wildly. Where was he? You didn’t see him, so you stormed up the boy’s staircase and into the boy’s assigned room. 

“What the fuck did you do,” You yelled, coming into the room and stopping in front of the boy, “What did you do!” You came up to him, pointing a finger at him, shoving it against his chest, he had the decency to look scared. 

“Y/N,” Ron got up off his bed, trying to sound soothing, but you were too mad. 

“He’s in the hospital wing half dead because of you!” You yelled, and Harry stood up, taking a step towards you, so you were in each other’s faces. 

“Does it matter that he attacked me first?!” He asked his own voice raising. 

“Guys,” Ron interjected. “Please,” 

“Shut up,” You both yelled. 

“You could have killed him!”

“Why are you protecting him, Y/N, he’s a death eater!” You pushed your hand into his chest and he grabbed it, pulling you closer, “Maybe you’re one too,” You shoved at him, backing away. 

“You’re insane, you’re... you’re... the worst!” You couldn’t even formulate words right now you were so angry. “Never speak to me again!”

“My pleasure!” You stormed from the room as quickly as you had come in, going back towards the hospital wing. Harry continued to seethe, and Ron watched him, worried. 

“Mate?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

A month went by with little to no communication between you and Harry, and it hurt you more than you would like to admit. You could see he was struggling, and you wanted to be able to go to him, to ask him what was wrong. But you were still so mad. Hermione came to you one morning, looking worried, she grabbed you from the common room and took you to somewhere you could talk privately. 

“I need you to talk to Harry,” You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off continuing, “Please, whatever differences you have, you need to. He won’t listen to anyone else.” 

“Hermione? What’s going on?” You were worried now, watching her in panic. 

“He’s going... somewhere with Dumbledore, somewhere dangerous, he won’t talk about it, but it’s something to do with You Know Who,” You nodded, glancing around to make sure you were still alone. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell him not to!” She cried, grabbing at the front of your robes, “Please, I have a bad feeling, he won’t even talk to Ron about it.” You nodded, placing your hands over her hands and squeezing. 

“Where is he?” 

“Harry?” You knocked on the slightly ajar door of an empty classroom before letting yourself in, closing the door behind you. 

“I thought we were never speaking again,” He didn’t even look up, you shrugged, coming to sit on a desk a few away from him. 

“Ron and Hermione are worried about you,” He scoffed, looking out one of the large classroom windows.

“And why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend, even when I’m upset with you, and I care about you.” You answered honestly. “Because I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He shrugged this time, before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m fine,”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He snapped. You were quiet for a moment, before getting up to move closer to the boy.

“Talk to me, please,” He tensed slightly, and you could tell he was trying not to look at you, “Where are you going with Dumbledore?” 

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, Harry, it does.” You touched his arm gently, trying to get him to look at you, “Please.” 

“We’re going to destroy a Horcrux.” He finally whispered, “It’s... a piece of Voldemort, he can’t die until we destroy them all. That’s the short version.” You nodded, squeezing his arm. Finally, he glanced over at you, “and you’re not going to talk me out of it,” You smiled sadly. 

“I didn’t think I could.” He returned the small smile.

“You’ve always known me best,” You smiled more, tilting your head. 

“It’s my job.” He chuckled slightly, “When do you go?” 

“Tonight.” You nodded, before removing your hand from his arm and wrapping them both around him in a tight hug. It took a moment, but he returned it, holding you close. 

“I’m sorry,”

“For?”

“Everything mean I’ve ever said to you,” You chuckled, resting your chin on his shoulder as you embraced. 

“I forgive you,” You assured him, squeezing him tighter, “Just please be safe, I want you back here in one piece, you hear me?” He nodded and released you finally. 

“Y/N...” 

“Hmm?” You asked, looking at him as his hands remained on each of your arms. They went from your biceps down, before eventually, he was clasping both of your hands in his. 

“You mean the world to me, you know that right?” You smiled softly, meeting his eye. 

“I do now,” You joked, and he laughed softly.

“I know you like Draco-”

“I... don’t.” You assured. You had tried to, really tried. He was your best friend, your soulmate even, but it was not meant to be romantic. Not in this life. Harry paused at that, and you watched him, watched him lean in before placing a soft kiss on your cheek, when he pulled back he was blushing deeply. You smiled and squeezed his hands before leaning in yourself to place a small kiss on his lips, “Just come back, okay?” 

The castle was finally quiet, after hours of chaos. Dumbledore was dead. Rumors flew on who killed him; Draco Malfoy. Your head spun, your stomach lurched. You didn’t want to believe it. 

“Y/N?” Hermione whispered, her hand finding your hand, “Are your parents coming to get you?” You shook your head, you wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. Ron stood on her other side, and Harry was a few feet away from you. Everyone wore blank faces. Death eaters in Hogwarts. Nowhere was safe. Dumbledore was dead. No one was safe. 

“No, they’re in Italy.” You spoke but it didn’t sound like yourself. You didn’t want to see them right now anyway. 

“Come to the Burrow,” Ron offered easily, “Mum and Dad won’t mind,” You nodded, not really hearing him. You were looking at Harry. 

“I’ll be right back,” You walked away from them without looking at them, going to stand beside the boy. You both stood in silence for a few moments before you choked back a sob, and he looked down at you.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, unable to look at him, as you were wrecked with guilt, “I’m so so sorry, I-”

“For what?” He asked, turning to face you, hands going to your shoulders. 

“I didn’t believe you, and you were right,” You cried, and Harry pulled you into a tight embrace. 

“It isn’t your fault,” He assured you, and you clung to him, continuing to cry into his chest. 

“He was my friend, I didn’t think... I never thought...” Harry nodded, smoothing your hair back, shushing you gently. 

“It’s alright, I know, I’m sorry.” You continued to hug for a few moments as you cried it out, Harry rubbing your back through it all, “It’ll be okay, we’re gonna be okay.”

[official-weasley]

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 8, Ch. 12

PART 8: WHERE IT ALL ENDS Chapter 12 - Now, Then and Forever

Charlie

“And then I looked him in the eyes and he just backed down.” Dominik slammed his beer bottle at the table, laughing so hard, finishing his story. Andrei almost fell from his seat and I brushed a tear away, laughing so much.

“Dom, there is no way the Ukranian Ironbelly just gave up when you didn't give him food.” I said, still laughing. His story was ridiculous and unbelievable but the way he was telling it was too funny not to listen.

“If that was true mate, you wouldn't be sitting here in front of us.” Andrei followed.

“You bastards, never believing me.” Dom rolled his eyes, knowing full well he was full of it. “You'll see when...”

But he didn't finish the sentence. His eyes widened as he looked at something behind Andrei and me. We both turned around and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Bill's Patronus, moving towards us.

“Charlie. Gather everyone you can. There is a battle at Hogwarts.” Bill's voice said and we all stood up at once.

“Alright!” I clapped my hands together. “For all we know they can be fighting for hours already. Get everyone and send out as many messages as you can, we need to go now!”

“There won't be time to set a Portkey, Charlie.” Andrei said.

“We'll apparate and hope for the best. We can't lose any time.” He nodded and we started gathering people around.

All across the village people started apparating, nodding at me or looking taken aback by the sudden change of atmosphere. I was just hoping we weren't too late and the people we have been getting to join us in all these years will be of help during the battle, no matter how many we will be able to inform on such short notice.

“Good luck, mate.” Andrei pulled me into a hug before apparating. We agreed that we should all apparate into Hogsmeade and go to the school from there since we didn't know what was happening and where the reinforcements will be needed most.

When I got there, everything was quiet. It looked like it was half abandoned. As more people appeared, the windows and doors of Hogsmeade houses started to open.

“C'mon! There's a fight going on at Hogwarts. Grab your wands and let's go!” I started running from door to door, shouting at the confused villagers.

“Who are you?” I turned around to see a rather large man standing there.

“Charlie Weasley. We brought more people. We heard there's a battle. Who are you?” The man looked astonished and frightened at the same time.

“Horace Slughorn.” He introduced himself. “I came here to get more people.”

“Good.” I nodded. “Then you can start pointing them to the direction where they should enter the School Grounds.” He didn't say anything, just nodded and hurried past me.

I waited a bit longer, for more people to appear but when I saw that several older villagers, unfit to fight, were shouting from their windows where they should go, I joined the group, marching towards the school.

Once we reached the barrier, we stopped. There were so many of us that I was certain we were going to win this without even knowing what was going on. We listened for a bit but couldn't hear anything. Then a few rows in the front started shouting literal battle screams. The rest of us joined as we wanted to let the fighters inside know that we are coming to help.

Once we got to the Courtyard, I didn't have time to look for any familiar faces or my family. Everything was in pure chaos. I needed a moment to focus and distinguish between our fighters and the enemy.

Before I knew it, I was throwing spells and jinxes in every direction. It was much worse and much more intense than the battle in the Sanctuary but I didn't lose focus. This was my moment to get revenge. To make as many of them fly in the air, losing their breath and getting hurt as I could.

It felt good to fight again and the pure adrenaline in my veins didn't allow me to get tired even though I felt as if I was fighting for hours. I saw Bill fight for a split second with the corner of my eye. And mum and dad as I turned around. There was a moment when I thought I saw Ginny but mum wouldn't allow her to fight, would she?

Before I could think twice about it, I already had two new Death Eaters standing before me, missing one's green light coming from his wand by millimeters. I was able to stun one and disarm the other and there was a new one making his way to me.

Before he could raise his wand at me, someone that I didn't know, hit him with a jinx from behind, and as his eyes widened, he hit the ground. I nodded to the person who saved me from the enemy and looked around to see where I should go next and who should I help to fight.

I felt something sharp hitting my back and my vision darkened. When I opened my eyes, I was still at Hogwarts but everything around me was white and blurry. I saw a tree in the distance and something shimmering and I knew I was by the Lake where I proposed to Nova. I carefully stepped forward, not knowing what is going on or why am I seeing this. I didn't feel any pain from the blast. My heart started racing and I felt like I always did when I held Nova in my arms. Warm, calm and loved.

“Hi, Charlie.” Tears blurred my eyes and I felt my whole body get numb. I turned around.

“Nova?” She was standing in front of me as real and as healthy as I had her in my memory. She was wearing a long white dress and the Dragon necklace I gave her for her 12th birthday.

“Am I dead?” I was lost for words. There hasn't been a day in 3 years that I didn't wish to see her face again.

“No. You're going back.” She smiled gently as she stepped closer.

“What is this, why can I see you?” My voice was shaking. I didn't believe I would ever see her again and here she was.

“I brought you here.” She was still smiling. “You are hurt, but you will be fine. I just took this opportunity to talk to you.” She explained.

“Is this real?” I took a step toward her, not really knowing what would happen if our bodies met. “Will I remember this when I wake up?”

“It's real and only if you want to.” She nodded.

“Can I touch you?” I asked desperately. I knew I was hurt, probably laying on the floor while different colors of spells, jinxes, and curses flew around me but I couldn't help to think that this was the best thing that happened to me since she died.

She took a step closer and grabbed my hand. My whole body started shaking when I felt her touch. I pulled her in a hug and buried my fingers in her hair.

“I missed you so much!” Tears started pouring down my face. Embracing her felt so real as if she never left.

“I know. I miss you too, Charlie.” I felt her chest shaking and I knew she was holding in the tears.

“Char.” How I longed to hear her say my name like that just one more time. “I brought you here for a reason.” She gently pulled away from me but I kept my arms around her waist.

“You broke your promise to me.” She sighed.

“What?” I didn't. I promised her I will be what I always wanted to be before I gave her my heart.

“You promised me you'll be happy.” She couldn't hold back the tears anymore. “This,” she placed her hand on my chest, “is not being happy.” It felt as if she was touching my soul. A certain heat radiated from her, keeping me calm and I felt content after a long time.

“I can't, Nova. I can't get over you. You are the love of my life and...” My voice broke completely and I felt as if I couldn't breathe, my throat tight. “...I know it's been almost three years but there isn't a day that I...”

“I know.” She stopped me as she cupped my face.

“Can you go to our...” She stopped me, putting her hand over my mouth, shaking her head. I was curious what this place was. Was it connected to the real world? Could she still be there?

“No, but I can feel you all the time.” Another tear marked her face. “Charlie, I didn't die so you could be unhappy. I want you to live your life not do your job and beat yourself with guilt over me.”

“Nova...” I tried steadying my voice. “You know me. You know I can't.” I pulled her into a tight embrace again. I didn't know how long this was going to last and I wanted to savor every second of it.

“Charlie...” She pulled away and lifted my chin. “You have to forgive yourself. What I did was my decision and I don't regret it. If I would have a chance to do it all over again, I would save you every time and there was nothing you could do to stop me.” She pressed her forehead to mine.

“I wanted to do it and you beating yourself over it is not worth it.” I opened my mouth but she stopped me.

“It pains me every day when I feel how you torture yourself. You can't live like this, Char.” She whispered.

“Then let me stay here with you.” I blurted out. “I don't want to live without you, Nova.” We were both crying but I felt so calm. I knew if I was back in my world, I would feel my chest ripping but I think her presence was keeping me calm. She was keeping me from falling apart.

“I can't let you do that.” She lowered her head, shaking it. “You have to live your life. Move on. Find a girl.” I winced at her last words. I could never do that. “Settle down. Have a family like you told me you wanted.” She looked me in the eyes but I looked away, it was too painful to think about things like that without her in the picture. “Remember, 2 girls and a boy?” She let out a small chuckle.

“But I wanted that with you. You don't understand...” I completely shut down. I couldn't believe I was talking to her again knowing I will soon open my eyes and never see her again. “I never wanted anything other than work with Dragons and then I met you and I fell in love and I had something I never even thought imaginable and I saw a different future for myself. Everything that I told you that day was created in my head because of you.” I couldn't stop crying and I didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse. I never wanted to let go of her.

“You know...” She started after a long silence. “There was a moment when I was considering coming back as a ghost.” I pulled away and looked at her. “But I knew it wouldn't be fair to you. I was hoping you would move on. It pained me knowing you would be with someone else but it would be better than this...” She pressed both her hands against my chest. “Charlie, I don't want you to be so sorrowful.” She started crying again.

“And what would you do if the situation was reversed?” I asked with a shaky voice. If she was going to tell me she would've moved on, I would promise her to try and do the same.

“That's not important.” She shook her head, I could barely hear her. “It is to me.” I cupped her face and kissed her. Her lips were as soft as I remember. I pressed her tighter onto my body. It was just as I recalled; tender but with so much hidden passion. I tried to memorize the feeling of her touch because I never wanted to forget it.

“I wouldn't.” She said very quietly almost as she was ashamed of her answer. “I could never...” She stopped talking when her voice broke. I knew she would feel the same as me if the situation was reversed and I knew she tried her hardest to lie to me just to convince me to move on but I couldn't blame her for failing. I wouldn't believe her anyway.

“Then how do you expect me to do so?” I kissed her again, feeling like I will never be so lucky again, to hold her in my arms. “It comforts me to know that even though you're gone, you can feel my emotions but my love for you will never go away. One moment we were fighting together and the next you were gone and I knew at that moment that everything I ever wanted with you, will never happen for me. It's not worth it without you.”

I buried my head in her shoulder, the look in her eyes, the understanding which told me she knew exactly what I was talking about because she would feel the same if it was the other way around. Her look pained me more than anything and after all these years, I have never wished so much to have her back.

“At least promise me you will forgive yourself.” She said softly after a long moment of both of us crying. It made me look at her. “Promise me, Char.” I didn't know what to say but I did feel different. I felt like something was lifted off my chest. I finally got the closure I needed all these years to know she was somewhere safe and peaceful.

“I promise.” I whispered, my voice rough. “Will I ever get to see you again?”

“I am already breaking a lot of rules by being with you for so long.” She chuckled.

“Tonks and Tulip would be proud.” I said, smiling. I still couldn't comprehend how this was happening to me and where exactly were we.

“Just remember that I am with you at all times.” She smiled reassuringly. It made me feel better, knowing that she was, in a way with me, even though I couldn't see her or hold her.

“Char.” I closed my eyes as her voice filled my ears and I wanted to remember it. “It's time to go back.” She was crying but her lips were curved up. She hugged me again and I closed my arms around her as tight as I could.

“You will be okay.” She whispered in my ear. “I promise I will be waiting for you when it's your time.” I felt much better about going back, knowing that one day, we would be together again, like we were meant to be. I could live with that.

“I love you, Nova. There are no words...” I felt my throat tighten again.

“I know. I feel it.” She tried smiling. “I love you too, Charles.” She buried her fingers in my hair as she pulled me closer and kissed me. My whole body was shaking, shivers down my spine and I could feel my heart beating just like the first time we were standing under this tree and I told her how I felt about her.

I suddenly felt as if the wind was blowing me away, I heard noises that I couldn't define and I felt my whole body ache as I opened my eyes, I knew I was back.

“Thank you, Nova.” I whispered to myself and wiped the tears from my face. I felt her everywhere. I felt her on my chest, her breath on my ear, her fingers in my hair. I felt her last kiss as if it never stopped. Something filled my chest and I felt hopeful. It was the first time since she passed away, that I knew, I will be okay.

THE END

A/N: I can't believe I just posted the last chapter! This is it! My first story is now officially fully on the internet. I don't know whether to smile or cry, it's kind of overwhelming, not going to lie! 🥺

I want to thank every single one of you that read it. Honestly, it means so much. I decided to post this story to get over my fear of being rejected and I wanted to prove to myself that I can commit to something and post every day no matter the consequences. Truth be told because I am new to Tumblr and still don't know how exactly it works, I thought I will just publish a chapter per day and have this blog as a sort of private library for my stories. I had no idea anyone would find it and read it, let alone comment on it and send me such nice messages about it.

I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed publishing it. With everything that is going on in the world right now, waking up and looking forward to posting the next chapter and reading through it one more time has brought me so much happiness and my love for writing has been at least doubled and I can't wait to read more stories and write and publish new ones!

I have always seen the internet as this negative space of bad criticism and negative energy but Tumblr has proved me wrong on an almost daily basis. Everybody is so nice and amazing and encouraging and I think we need more sites like this because a lot of people would love the internet more.

I don't even know what else to write, I can't find the words to express how thankful I am for everyone who interacted with me during this story. It's been so fun and made me laugh so many times, so thank you again! ❤️

With that being said, I have a secret...

I might have done something that I didn't quite expect I would do but I just couldn't help myself!

Part 8 of this story has been so overwhelming. From the beginning to the plot twist, to everyone freaking out about Nova dying. I have finished writing this story in February and publish the first part on 16th March. I knew back then what happens in Chapters 6 and 7. I knew how everything turns out and how the story ends. But once I published it, once it was finally “out there” I felt so bad and so sad for Charlie. My characters grew on me after so many months and when I published those two chapters I needed something happier. I needed some fluff, a happier ending. I started reading different stories but nothing helped. I figured I needed a happier ending for Charlie, for MY version of our Dragon lover.

So...

I did a thing...

I wrote myself a happier ending. An alternative, if you will. It's more of another chapter with a plot twist, I guess. My dilemma now is...should I post it tomorrow? Should I make it see the light of day or should I put it in a folder on my computer and never speak of it again?

Don't get me wrong, I love the ending. I LOVE Chapter 12. It's one of my favorites. But I love the other ending just as much. I want you to decide if I should publish it. I don't want to ruin anything for anybody in case you liked the ending and you are content with how the story ends.

I will be happy either way because this has been a lovely journey. So thank you again and have a nice day! ❤️