#like i should be able to scream at a smoker for just moving to the garage

[femmesandhoney]

it should not only be punishable if they don't, but completely expected for any and all smokers to go outside when they smoke. idc if it's your house and you think the garage is "close enough" get the fuck outside and stop making the garage now just reek of smoke yall fucking suck lmao. smokers can freeze in a blizzard if they want to smoke that bad.

[penny00dreadful]

Written for @psychocatnerd for the @steddiesummerexchange

It's a body swap fic, baybeeee! I hope you like it! 🥰🖤

Rating: Explicit

Part 2 AO3

Steve slowly came to consciousness and immediately knew something was wrong.

Everything just felt off.

Like the world had been tilted one degree to the left.

Blinking his eyes open he felt just slightly more settled by the familiar sights around him. 

The various metal posters and leaflets tacked to the wall, the amp and guitar just in his peripheral vision and the feel of the room around him told him he was in Eddie’s bed.

He didn’t remember coming over to Eddie’s last night but clearly he must have.

It wouldn’t have been the most unusual thing in the world. The two of them were practically inseparable at this stage. Steve was trying and failing every day to douse the fire of his incredibly strong and incredibly embarrassing crush and Eddie probably just viewed him as a good friend.

Steve shifted around, staying in his comfy cocoon for as long as he could allow himself.

But as sensations came back to him from waking up, something else seemed off. And he noticed the second weird thing of the morning as he took stock of everything around him and turned his head towards Eddie’s side of the bed. 

Eddie wasn’t here. Eddie wasn’t lying next to him, in his own bed, a cloud of wild hair sticking up at all angles and the most atrocious morning breath and skin and tattoos and all elbows and knees.

Eddie never woke up before him.

The guy practically had to be dragged from sleep by multiple alarms and the smell of coffee like some kind of Pepe Le Pew, his nose pulling him from dreamland before his mind had caught up, but Eddie wasn’t here.

He wasn’t sprawled over Steve like a weighted blanket or curled into his arms like they so often were when they woke up, neither of them really talking about it but also neither of them really had an issue with it. 

Maybe he had slipped out to the bathroom or something?

But Steve couldn’t hear any other sounds apart from Wayne moving around the kitchen and he knew it was Wayne because of that grumbling smoker's cough.

What the fuck was going on?

Why was Steve cuddled up in Eddie’s bed without the man in question?

Dragging himself to his feet, Steve had only just managed to stand when he nearly jumped out of his skin because double what the fuck there was something tickling, something dragging over his back that was definitely not supposed to be there.

Steve slapped his hand behind him, curling his fingers around whatever the fuck it was and yanked, trying to put as much distance between it and himself as he could. But that only resulted in his scalp screaming in pain because whatever it was, was attached to his fucking head?

Still holding a fistful of whatever the fuck it was in his hand, it felt suspiciously like hair, what the fuck, he nearly fell on his ass as he tried to hurry himself over to Eddie’s mirror because since fucking when had he become so uncoordinated?

Looking up at the mirror hanging over his desk that was borderline unusable because of the amount of photos and more flyers and doodles and other shit stuck to it, not to mention the giant fucking guitar blocking it, Steve was nearly shocked out of his skin again because what the fuck… Eddie?

Eddie was standing there, blinking back at him through the mirror looking just as outraged and freaked as Steve felt.

Except Eddie wasn’t standing behind him when he turned to look and the Eddie in the mirror turned to look as well and then and then Steve finally took in the big glaring obvious thing that he probably should have noticed first.

Steve’s own reflection wasn’t there.

Was this… wasn’t that some kind of vampire thing? Not being able to see his reflection?

It was just Eddie blinking at him with his fist in his hair and and from the look in his eye, he was starting to panic like Steve was starting to panic because what the fuck was going on?

It could be the vampire thing or maybe Eddie was trapped in the mirror? Was this some kind of mirror dimension fuckery or something like that?

Steve reached a hand out to try and calm him because he was feeling pretty fucking panicked himself right now but he hated seeing Eddie this way and the guy must also be fucking freezing because, oh yeah, had Steve failed to mention that Eddie was stark fucking naked for some reason?

Eddie reached out at the exact same moment, mimicking his movements perfectly.

A little too perfectly.

Steve’s hand was in his eyeline now, except that that wasn’t his fucking hand. That was Eddie’s fucking hand attached to his body and Steve would know Eddie’s hand anywhere. 

He’d spent fucking long enough staring at them as they moved and gestured and rested on his thighs and Steve has had so many, so many thoughts about those fucking fingers.

Especially since Eddie had decided to lean even harder into the ‘Freak’ persona with more tattoos and more piercings and just somehow becoming all around fucking hotter than ever before, the fucking asshole.

Didn’t he know that Steve was only a man?

A weak, weak, bisexual disaster of a man?

Only it was even worse now because Eddie had apparently gotten far more tattoos and piercings than Steve had known about, the guy was still naked in the mirror and it was taking every ounce of willpower Steve had to not look down.

Point is, that the hand attached to his body is not his own hand and when he looked back up to see what the fuck Eddie was making of this, Eddie was following his movements again and was that Eddie in the mirror?

Could it be him? Like, Steve, him?

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shitfuckballs and ass.

Steve took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and finally took stock of everything, glancing down at the body he was in.

God, he was in trouble, he was in so much trouble.

Yup, that-

Fuck, that was Eddie’s body.

He was in Eddie’s body.

Fuck.

Why did he have to be so hot?

Steve felt like he was about to burst into flames. He had an eyefull of tattoos stretching across pale and scarred skin, a nipple piercing winking up at him, dragging his gaze like a moth to a flame and he refused to look any lower but he could feel it.

He could feel it.

Fuck, he needed to not be getting hard right now because that was like a… a violation or something.

He needed to calm down and figure out what was going on because the only two options he could think of were that he was having some kind of psychotic episode which would be not good or this was some kind of supernatural nonsense which would also be not good.

Okay, okay. Relax. Everything was fine?

Everything was fine. 

He would figure it out and everything would be fine.

Except hold on because everything might not be fine because if Steve was here, in Eddie’s body, then where the fuck was Eddie?

Okay, he needed… fuck.

When did he get so scatterbrained about everything?

He needed to find Eddie’s walkie. Where did he keep it?

Steve turned, dragging his eyes through the clutter around Eddie’s room, waiting for the familiar shape to jump out at him all the while trying not to pay attention to the fucking beast swinging between his legs.

Why was it always the skinny nerds who had the biggest dicks?

Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Get it together, Steve. 

He needed to fucking stop thinking about it and just find the goddamned walkie. 

Except he couldn’t. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to because knowing Eddie, he could have hidden it in a fucking lampshade or something for safekeeping because apparently Eddie’s mind refused to run in straight lines. 

Steve sighed to himself, giving it up for a lost cause. 

Next option, the phone.

Except… no.

Pants first and then phone. 

He didn’t want to scar Wayne. The man needed a break. 

Steve snatched up the clothes sitting at the end of the bed that Eddie had presumably shed the night before. Apparently when the guy was in his bed alone, without Steve, he slept completely naked.

“Could sleep naked with me if he wanted to.” Steve grumbled to himself, finally covering up all of that tempting skin that he wanted to taste and gaining some of his sanity back.

Just as he stepped out of Eddie’s room, the phone rang. 

Wayne was the closest from the two, picking it up while stirring the tea Steve had bought him to help him sleep better. It made something unbearably fond and a little embarrassed squirm in his chest.

After a muttered grunt of a hello, he looked up at Steve and held the receiver out.

“It’s your boy, son.”

Steve’s heart thumped loud and hard in his chest.

Eddie’s boy?

Eddie had a boy?

Eddie had a boyfriend?

Why hadn’t he told him?

Did he know about Steve’s big gay crush?

And how the fuck was Steve supposed to answer the phone to Eddie’s boyfriend and pretend to be him when he didn’t even know that Eddie had a boyfriend? 

He was gonna fuck up Eddie’s relationship and then Eddie would know and be miserable and oh fuck. Jesus Christ, this was all fucked. 

Steve swallowed as Wayne raised his eyebrows, still holding the receiver aloft and he took it with hands he was trying to keep from shaking. 

“Hello?” Steve said into the phone and oh wow that was trippy as shit, hearing Eddie’s voice come out of his own mouth, the same but different, being heard inside his own head.

“I know your secret.”

Oh fucking hell, double trippy as shit because that was his voice, Steve’s voice coming down the line at him. Steve scrunched up his nose.

Was that what he sounded like? All the time? Gross.

So, what the fuck did Wayne mean by ‘your boy’?

“What?” Steve replied, oh so eloquently. 

“I know your secret, Stevie.” And yup. That was Eddie. His familiar tone and intonation sounded very strange through Steve’s voice. “I found Miss Farrah looking at me from your bathroom cabinet.”

Steve sighed, the tension leaking out of his body at least with the knowledge that Eddie was safe, even if he was stuck in Steve’s body. 

“Are you telling me while I spent this whole time freaking out, you were just going through my stuff?”

Eddie hummed. 

“Not quite. Got a little distracted.”

“Oh?” Steve hedged, not really sure if he wanted the answer to that. Fuck, what did he find? “By what?”

But apparently Eddie wasn’t going to answer his fucking question. 

Typical.

“What secrets of mine did you find?”

Your giant fucking penis. 

“Nothing.”

Steve could practically hear Eddie light up over the line.

“Oh, so you did find something! What was it, sweetheart? Did you find my super secret porn stash?”

“No!” Steve snapped back but… maybe he could go back and look for it. 

Maybe just to get an idea… Just a little bit of curiosity-

“Did you find mine?” Steve asked in a panic, because fuck if Eddie had, he’d know. Steve’s porn stash was full of leather and tattoos and motorbikes and handcuffs and he’d know.

“I guess you’ll never know.”

Steve sighed in frustration and rapped the receiver of the phone against his forehead.

Okay, well, Eddie was still teasing him, still talking to him so he probably hadn’t. He probably had no fucking idea that Steve was just a little obsessed and a lot horny over him and Steve was going to do everything within his power to keep it that way.

“Okay. Just- just stay there, I’m on my way over. We need to figure this out.”

“Oh.” Eddie whined, probably pouting, the menace. “But I was so looking forward to getting behind the wheel of your baby.”

“Absolutely not.” Steve snapped. “Don’t you dare. I’m coming over, just sit your ass down and don’t touch anything.”

“Too late for that.”

Steve’s brain came to a screeching halt.

What… what… what? Did he? He couldn’t have. Would he? Would Eddie have indulged himself in a morning jerk off inside Steve’s body while Steve was denying himself that very thing. 

Well that just was not fair. 

“I can’t have this conversation with you over the phone. Do not go near my car. I’ll be there in twenty.” He didn’t give Eddie a chance to answer, just slammed the phone back down and tried desperately not to think of Eddie touching his dick, even if it was in his own hand in his own body.

Clothes. 

He needed clothes.

He needed to dress Eddie in appropriate clothes. Clothes that would say Eddie.

Steve shuffled his way back to Eddie’s room, threw open his closet door and was left just staring.

There was no organisation here at all.

There were jackets in with T-shirts and jeans and jumpers thrown in with no rhyme or reason, even though almost everything was black, there were still splashes of red or grey or white in between all of it which meant not only were they not organised by type, they also were not organised by colour.

Steve’s closet at home had a meticulous order to it, a colour out of place would have his shoulders tensing but strangely he found the lack of organisation here didn’t bother him as much as he knew it should.

Maybe just because it was Eddie’s space, he didn’t know.

Finding something that made Eddie look like Eddie was surprisingly easy, everything in there was just so him.

But even so Steve couldn’t deny himself the opportunity once his hand landed on a cut off t-shirt.

Sue him, it was hot outside.

But did every single pair of jeans Eddie owned have to be so damn tight?

Steve was stuck in between complaining and not complaining because while he was squeezing himself inside, it became abundantly clear that the pair he was wearing were way too fucking tight to wear underwear with which then brought up the question of, did Eddie go commando occasionally?

He must, right?

Jesus fucking Christ, Steve could not handle this right now.

He somehow managed to get Eddie’s body completely dressed without passing the fuck out and luckily for him, Wayne was already in bed by the time he flew out the front door to the trailer. 

Steve sat himself down in the driver's seat of Eddie’s van and could do nothing but stare.

Because he hadn’t thought about this.

Fuck.

It was a gear shift.

His Bimmer was an automatic.

Fucking hell Eddie could drive manual.

Why was that so hot?

Why was that so hot?

And why had he never fucking noticed it before?

How had he never noticed it before?

What the fuck was he going to do?

Steve shifted in his seat, trying to keep his heart rate in check. Despite the fact that he was in Eddie’s body, trying not to touch it all over like some kind of stalker creep, wearing Eddie’s clothes was still really doing something for him.

His jeans were tight. Steve was no stranger to tight jeans but Eddie’s were something else, and anyway, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to put Eddie’s body in the tightest thing he owned, though he was slightly regretting it now.

The seam at the crotch was digging and tugging against his balls and that fucking piercing, sending his blood rushing all over and he had to stop himself from rolling his hips up against it just to feel it again. 

He could feel the air against his knees and his stomach, his skin erupting into goosebumps, he was so completely surrounded. In Eddie’s clothes, in his van, in his fucking skin.

Jesus Christ Steve couldn’t handle this, he needed to go drown himself in the lake.

He glared down at the gear shift, trying to figure out what he could do before he huffed to himself and threw the van door back open.

Fuck it, his house wasn’t that far, he’d walk. He was not going to give Eddie the satisfaction of seeing him struggle to drive his van up the driveway. He’d probably destroy something in the engine if he tried.

And maybe the walk could do something to calm him the fuck down.  

Part 2 AO3

As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

[mondscheinprinzessin]

drunken tattoos

This post discussing Olli’s not visible BC tattoo didn’t leave my mind and I just had to write something stupid. So here are Joonas and Olli making a pact to get the BC logo tattooed on their asses.

I am dedicating this dumbassery to @drippinlou and @dream-thieves

(also pls don’t get a tattoo while drunk)

Playing in front of more than a hundred people was more exhilarating than Olli could've ever expected. The way they swayed and jumped to their music, sang along to the words and made them feel like the biggest band walking on earth.

It had to be celebrated. Selling that many tickets was a new high in their band life and it was steady but surely going uphill for them. Soon it was no more playing in shady bars and dirty clubs, they could get a bigger stage and invest in equipment.

Olli wanted to ride on that high forever, the beers he had downed helping him to keep him afloat on a cloud of adrenaline, excitement, and blissful joy. The wide smile on his face had been there for the last hour or so, but Olli couldn’t stop. Seeing his bandmates in each other’s arms and screaming to a Britney Spears Remix currently playing in the club would remain as a picture forever saved in his memories.

Joonas hooked arms with him and pressed a cocktail in his hands with the command to drink it up. And who was Olli to refuse such a charming smile on his fellow guitarist.

Not long after -or was it, Olli couldn’t tell- the both of them found themselves in the alley outside the club, still swaying to the music that could be heard through the open doors. They passed a few smokers that gave them disapproving stares but Olli couldn’t care less. He was having the time of his life.

Passing a corner Joonas suddenly stopped in his tracks, regarding him with wide eyes.

“What?” Olli asked, confused. “Don’t tell me you have to puke, go somewhere else for that.” Already on the move to march forward, Olli was once again held back by Joonas by a tug on his hand.

“No, I have an amazing idea.” He told him with shining eyes, the mischief was clear as day, but that was normal with Joonas and didn’t worry him.

When nothing else came Olli motioned with his hand to continue, looking at him expectantly. Now he wanted to know. The night was too early to kill off and he was in the mood for an adventure, which was guaranteed to happen with a drunken Joonas in company.

“Oh right.” Joonas said as if he had forgotten he was in the middle of explaining. “Tattoos!”

“Tattoos?”

“Yes, tattoos! We always wanted our band logo tattooed, don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Olli defended himself. “I’m not that drunk.” He said and promptly stumbled over his own foot, holding himself up by the wall next to him.

A giggling came from behind, but Olli found it funny enough to join in, already forgetting what reason Joonas had to laugh.

“Let’s do it now.”

Lifting his head, getting dizzy from the abrupt movement, he looked at Joonas, thinking hard about what they were talking about. “Huh?”

“The tattoo.” Joonas said urgently like it was the most important thing on earth right now. And...it kind of was in Olli’s opinion. Tattoos sounded great. He wanted one.

“Now?” he asked to be sure he understood the plan.

“Of course now. Now is the best time.”

Olli agreed and nodded with his head more forcefully than it was necessary, the world once again hiding behind a blurriness that he was unable to blink away.

“But we can do one better. Let’s make a pact!”

“A pact?” Olli felt like he was only asking questions this evening, his brain slowed down and unable to process any information Joonas threw his way.

Hitting him square over the chest Joonas grinned at him. “Dude, how drunk are you, keep up. A pact between brothers.”

Olli hummed and grabbed Joonas by the shoulders to pull him into a hug, simultaneously tousling his hair. They almost fell over from the force but Joonas was able to keep them upright.

“You’re the bestest brother.” Olli said and squeezed tighter, Joonas only chuckling into his shoulder, the sound loud in his ear but enough to raise his spirits even higher. The fun that came out of forming a band with his friends and touring together was the greatest thing in his life, enjoying the close bond they had and right now he had the most awesome fun ever.

Joonas weaseled his way out of his grip and jumped on his back instead, giving Olli only seconds to take a hold of his legs but they managed, going forward on wobbly knees and in a zigzag course, only swerving around a lamppost last second and when Joonas pulled his hair in the direction they were headed to.

Picking up from where they left off, Joonas said, “So, from brother to brother I say let’s put it on our ass.”

Coming to a halt, Olli tried to understand the strings of words and especially the combination of tattoo and ass in one sentence.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could stop.” Joonas let out and wiggled with his legs till Olli got the memo and started walking again. More or less.

“Why on our ass?”

“Uh...because that’s funny? And like the greatest idea ever. And funny.” He said as if it was obvious. Which- yeah okay Olli could see behind it. It was pretty funny. Hilarious even. Why didn’t they think of it before? Might be the greatest idea Joonas ever had. Or the one they could remember.

“It is.”

“Then onward my fair steed” Joonas said and began giggling again when Olli picked up speed and Joonas was swaying on his back like a ship on the high sea. It was a miracle they didn’t crash and kept lying in a ditch, waiting to be found by their bandmates in the morning.

Somehow, they managed to find their destination, or more like a random tattoo parlour that was mysteriously open at this hour. But why should they care as long as they would finally get their tattoos.

They wandered inside (Joonas by his side instead of his back), greeting the woman behind the counter who had a boring expression on her face. She raised an eyebrow, eying them from top to bottom but didn’t comment on their state.

When asked what she can do for them they simply said ass tattoo. That should cover all information needed.

The woman called for a Sarah and a blonde woman emerged from a room, waving Joonas over who had a flirty smile already on his face. Always ready to play with his charms. Who knows what could come out of this.

Olli eyed the woman, whose name he still didn’t know, but followed her willingly into another room, losing sight of Joonas. They would see each other soon enough. With a little extra on their bodies.

He laid down as instructed, his pants off over a chair and his underwear pulled down to bare his butt for everyone to see. Without the alcohol he may have been blushing more over the fact he was showing himself off so freely, but he couldn’t see what the woman was doing anyway.

He had given her the flyer of tonight's concert so she had a template for the tattoo, and it wasn’t like it was a big one, he would cope.

The first lines of the needle hurt nevertheless and reached his mind even in his drunken state, the alcohol only doing so much to fight back on the pain. After a while though the buzzing only made him tired, having to suppress the urge to close his eyes and just fall asleep.

He contemplated over doing just that when the woman swatted over his cheek not currently sporting a tattoo and that helped him getting awake again. He practically jumped up, refraining from pulling up his underwear as she needed to get over the aftercare stuff but then he was free to go.

He stumbled over the threshold into the colder night air, the alcohol level noticeably lower but not enough to keep his head from spinning. He could hardly make out Joonas leaned against the lamppost across from him, but that stupid hat was indicator enough it was his friend standing there and not some stranger with striking similarity.

Joonas put out his cigarette when Olli came closer. “Well, how was it?”

“Not liking getting my ass spanked but other than that I’m fine.”

Joonas let out a loud laugh from deep in his chest, probably waking every sleeping person in the street. “Sounds like you had a good time. Show me?”

“Are you stupid? Not here. I don’t want to get arrested for public nuisance.” Olli said and shoved Joonas away when he made grabby hands towards his belt. He was definitely not getting naked here.

“Tease.” Joonas whined disappointed. “Oh! But let me show you mine.”

“Joonas, no. I don’t wanna see your ass now either. Besides, we got the same motive?”

But Joonas didn’t make a move to open his pants, no, he only shoved his hand into his face, making him crosseyed.

Grabbing the hand waving before his eyes, he tried to focus. “Joonas, what? Hey! What is this?”

There was clearly a diamond shaped thing on the back of his hand, that suspiciously looked like their band logo, and then it dawned on him.

“There is one on your ass too, right? You didn’t make me do that alone? Right? Joonas?”

His questions fell on deaf ears though and there was only maniac laughter coming from Joonas, who upon seeing Olli’s eyes darken, got a good headstart and ran away before Olli could grab the hem of his jacket. Cursing, Olli could do nothing than follow Joonas and made sure they didn’t lose their way to the hotel and then he could wrestle him down long enough to tattoo that stupid thing on him on his own.

[mymoonagedaydream]

tony’s house is on fire and it’s literally in flames so u run in and get morgan and bucky thinks ur dead as steve just holds him back as he screams ur name sobbing. but ofc u come back out and let morgan run but u drop to the ground from too much smoke inhalation. :)) ty mama

Ablaze

Summary: In an instant, your relaxing housesitting break turned into your worst nightmare

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I will happily be mama to any of you beautiful people I love that

---

Tony and Pepper were finally taking a much-needed holiday.

No work, no business, no phone calls.

Pepper kept chanting it to Tony in the days before they left, probably trying to condition him into accepting relaxation like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

To be honest, it was a bit of a surprise when they approached Bucky, Steve and yourself about house-sitting and looking after Morgan while they were away. You assumed he’d just get Happy to take care of it all, but you definitely weren’t complaining, because you loved Morgan to absolute pieces and you were pretty stoked to get some time away from the compound.

You arrived at the Stark residence early afternoon on the day they were flying, getting a comprehensive list of dos and don'ts shoved into your hand and a quick smile from both of them, before they said their long goodbyes to Morgan and hopped into the car.

She was a little upset after they’d left, so you did everything you could to make the rest of the day fun and distracting for her.

The three of you took her for a long walk in the afternoon, Steve and Bucky taking turns to let her ride on their backs and jumping in puddles on her command, then you made a home cooked dinner before all settling in to watch Morgan’s favourite Disney film for the rest of the evening.

She rested her head on a cushion in Steve’s lap while you and Bucky curled up together at the other end of the couch, your head nestled in the crook of his neck and his cheek resting on your crown.

Only an hour or so into the movie, you noticed Bucky’s head begin to gradually become heavier, and you realised he was probably nodding off. For as long as you’d known him, he’d never managed to make it through a whole movie.

You glanced over to Morgan, seeing that she was battling to keep her heavy eyelids open as Steve gently stroked his fingers through her hair.

‘Alright.’ Bucky’s head shot up at your sudden announcement. ‘I think it’s bedtime.’

Steve looked over to Buck, chuckling at his sleepy disorientation before jumping up and scooping Morgan into his arms.

‘Come on little miss, I’ll tuck you in.’

She frowned slightly as Steve carried her towards the stairs. ‘But we didn’t get to the end.’

‘We’re not going anywhere squirt, we’ll finish the movie tomorrow.’

When their half-hearted arguing had moved out of earshot, you clambered onto your feet, standing in front of Bucky and waiting for him to do the same.

A look of complete bewilderment spread across your face when he threw his arms towards you, silently requesting that you hoist him up off the couch.

‘You’re aware of how insanely heavy you are, right?’

He just pouted.

You took a deep breath and gripped both his hands, bracing a leg against the couch and yanking him towards you as hard as you could. He didn’t budge an inch. When you shrugged in defeat, he pulled back, bursting into laughter as you collapsed in a heap on top of him.

Eventually gathering his last morsels of energy, he hopped up and flung you over his shoulder, clumsily carrying you upstairs to the master bedroom.

---

You were abruptly woken by Bucky shouting your name inches away from your face and frantically shaking you.

When he was satisfied you were awake, he jumped off the bed and dashed over to the window, jerking it open with one powerful movement. 

You sat up and took a deep breath in, all of your senses immediately flooded by the overwhelming amount of smoke pouring in through the cracks in the door.

‘Come on.’ He grabbed your wrist and led you towards the window. ‘We can’t get out into the hallway, it’s too dangerous.’

You pulled your arm out of his grip. ‘What about Morgan?’

‘Steve’s in the room next to her, he’ll get her out.’

‘You can’t be sure of that Buck!’

‘Look, if there was any way to get to her, I would’ve. The door is completely blocked.’ Anger and frustration were leaking into his voice. ‘We don’t have a choice.’

You thought for a second before reluctantly conceding, lowering yourself from the window and jumping down to the ground. Once Bucky was out safely, the two of you sprinted around to the front of the house, your heart stopping when you saw Steve emerge from the front door on his own.

‘Steve? What the fuck happened?’

‘I don’t know, I was in the kitchen when something crashed through a window upstairs. Before I knew it the whole second floor was in flames.’ He paused, scanning the space around you. ‘Where the hell is Morgan?’

All three of you were still in silence for a second.

You didn’t even think, you just turned and ran as fast as you could through the open door. There was some vague shouting behind you but you didn’t look back. 

Nothing was going to stop you getting to her.

You buried your mouth in the crook of your elbow, trying to get your bearings in the unfamiliar, smoke-filled house.

The stairs were completely ablaze, but the upstairs hallway was open and lined with bannisters. You backed up a little, propelled yourself forwards and jumped, just about managing to grab them and climb over onto the landing.

You crashed through Morgan’s door, breathing a huge sigh of relief when you saw her sit up in bed and stare at you wide-eyed.

‘It’s gonna be alright, come here.’ You pulled a blanket off her bed and wrapped her up tight. ‘You hold on to me and don’t let go until I say, understand?’

She nodded, throwing her arms around your neck as you pulled her to your chest.

The fire was advancing quickly towards her bedroom. You just about managed to beat it to where you climbed up, but there was no time to scale the bannister and carefully lower yourself onto the ground floor. You just gripped her as tight as you could and vaulted.

You jarred your knees as you landed, but Morgan had already started coughing into your chest, so you kept moving through the pain. As you sprinted towards the exit, piercing sirens started in the distance and the room began dancing with flashing red lights.

Finally emerging through the door, you set Morgan down and collapsed onto your knees.

Your head was swimming. You’d been running on adrenaline up until this point, but now you could really feel the swelling in your throat as you struggled to gulp in raspy breaths.

Your vision started clouding, the only thing you were able to focus on was the sound of Bucky hoarsely yelling your name. It sounded distant but it couldn’t have been, because the last thing you remembered was the unmistakable feeling of his arms wrapping tight around you.

---

A harsh, sterile light penetrated into the slit of your slowly opening eyes, burning your retinas and making you wince.

You felt your hand being squeezed, and you just about managed to peel your eyes open wide enough to see Bucky sitting beside you. His free hand moved up to rest on the top of your head, his thumb gently stroking your forehead

‘You are some other kind of stupid.’

The corners of your mouth curled up as you fixed your misty gaze on his face. ‘Is she alright?’

Your own voice shocked you, it sounded like it’d come from an elderly lifelong chain-smoker.

‘She’s good. She’s with her parents, they got the first flight back.’

You opened your mouth to ask him more, mainly about why the fuck the house burst into flames, but he cut you off before you could get the words out.

‘The doctors said you should try to not talk too much, your throat needs to rest.’ A mischievous smirk spread across his face. ‘So not a bad result overall.’

You tried to smother your smile and throw a scowl at him, but you just ended up bursting into gruff, scratchy laughter. His grip on your hand tightened and he leant forward, holding your gaze as he moved his face to hover over yours.

‘You can’t be doing stuff like that, I thought you were a goner.’

You brought your hand up to his cheek, feeling him settle into your touch.

‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’

---

[sleepingcrisis]

@brokengem

I had zero plan for this... soooooo 😎

*****

"I didn't expect you to be so hot."

Kojiro’s passenger woke up about ten minutes ago, didn't say a thing for those ten minutes, and then called him hot. Maybe he had died as opposed to him.

"Im wearing a cloak and you haven't seen my face," Kojiro mentions. Usually he speaks much more formally then that, Tadashi scolds him if he doesnt, but he can't help himself. He hasn't had a passenger do anything but scream or cry in years, not since that dark blue haired male (who also called him hot, maybe this was a cycle).

"You have broad shoulders, nice hands, and I just found out your voice is very hot. Besides you didn't disagree."

"Am I supposed to?" Kojiro asks as he pulls his hood off and turns to look at the male in his boat. He chose a boat because it is hilarious when people knock it over (Tadashi doesn't approve of his reasoning).

"Disagree? Well absolutely not now," the man says once he has seen Kojiro’s face. Shokichi Oka, he died in a car crash. He had a decent life, he should not be this casual about everything.

"Mortals are getting weirder and weirder every year," Kojiro grumbles as he uses his staff to push them away from a log.

"Oh just wait until the kids get here. I would tell you there names but it would be embarrassing if they freaked out once they got here."

"Reki and Langa?" Kojiro suggests.

"Yeah... them," Shokichi sighs softly as a small smile covers his lips. The realization that he won't be seeing them again finally settles. "So where are we going? Is this like purgatory? I feel like I haven't been that shitty of a person, but I certainly never prayed to a God... well aside from when Reki nearly skated off that cliff."

"It isn't purgatory. This is just your ride to the other side."

"Is there an other side? You better not lie to me," Shokichi mutters.

"As if you would be able to stop me," Kojiro scoffs.

"So there isn't," he says it like he knows.

Kojiro rolls his eyes and shifts to sit down in the small boat. Despite his bulk he moves with a certain level of grace. "This ride will end when you want it to. The destination is your choice. Meeting me will be the closest you get to meeting a God."

"And what are you?" Shokichi asks.

"A grim reaper. One of many."

"Do they all look like you?" Shokichi asks.

Kojiro assumes he is asking if they are all 'hot' but he also knows that Kaoru and Tadashi wouldn't want to be compared to him in any capacity even if he thinks they are both beautiful. So instead he says, "No."

"That is unfortunate for others, but I guess I'm lucky," he has a smirk on his lips as he brings a leg up onto the board between them and crosses his arms.

"They say fear and arousal go hand in hand," Kojiro mentions.

"Are you asking if I'm scared? Compared to the pain I felt earlier... this is easy," Shokichi whispers. He glances down to his legs. They had been crushed in the incident, had he lived he would have been paralyzed. People live with life long disabilities all the time though, but the pain of being in that crash and the suffering that lasted until he died? That was what Shokichi was referring to.

"So does that mean you are horny?" Kojiro asks teasingly.

Shokichi just shrugs and leans back a bit against the arch of the boat, "It wouldn't be a waste of time."

"Well whatever you want, you have all the time in the world," Kojiro says with a shrug. Of course he doesn't really mean sex. Although Shokichi was a smoker. So he summons a pack of smokes in his hand and offers him one. He can feel that they are sitting still in the water now. It is his job to make Shokichi want to go to the other side, right now it is obvious he doesn't want to even if he hasn't expressed any opinion on the matter.

The brown haired male accepts a smoke and when asked for a light the cigarette lights itself just as the remainder of the pack disappears.

"So have you been doing this forever?"

"Pretty much," Kojiro shrugs.

"If there are people dying all the time, how do you have time for this?" Shokichi asks. Kojiro isn't usually asked questions, but he supposed it is nice to talk.

"I make time for every person who needs it. The boat won't move until you are ready. There are others to deal with other souls that I can't handle right now," Kojiro tries to explain. This could all prove to be far too overwhelming.

"I wish it would start moving again, if only to get this over with," Shokichi whispers. There is a bitter tinge to his voice and Kojiro can see the tears forming in his eyes. Despite that the boat doesn't move. It stays perfectly still in the water.

"Well if you genuinely wanted it to move then it would," Kojiro assures. It does nothing to sooth the other’s frustration.

"What is the longest you have stayed here with someone?" Shokichi asks.

"In human time? Hard to say. People who are angry and bitter and screaming — those are the ones who are ready to go. I had a man in my boat awhile ago and he was kind and calm. Given his life I'm sure he was thrilled to be here too... we stayed here for years. He wasn’t actually ready despite what he said."

"Why wasn't he ready?" Shokichi shifted to look at the water. There was no reflection, just an endless bottom that was perfectly clear yet led to nothing.

"He never got the chance to experience love," Kojiro said honestly. "So his mind and body and soul all decided he wasn't ready to leave until he fell in love."

"With you?"

Kojiro offers a small smile, "I have been told I can't feel love... but I felt loss when he vanished from me."

Shokichi nods slightly before yawning. He stretches slightly and rubs his face. Well he is pretty sure he has been in love before, so it can't be that. When he tries to pin down a person he loves he thinks of those two brats, but that clearly isn't the type of love Kojiro was talking about. "Well I liked my life... I can't see myself being here longer then him."

Yet he was. The boat didn't move and due to no longer being alive Shokichi never felt uncomfortable. He was there for years and he chatted about his entire life to the grim reaper. Of course Kojiro had an endless amount of stories to share and Shokichi loved to listen. He was sure this was annoying, being here for so long... but Kojiro never expressed any need to hurry.

"How did you come to be?" Shokichi asks one day.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I was born, so what about you?" He grins as he asks the question.

"Hm... I was a mortal once, and then I died. When I died I woke up next to a man, he said he was tired. He asked if I would take care of things while he rested. When he ceased to exist I became what I am now."

"That is incredibly vague," Shokichi mutters. Kojiro chuckles softly, seemingly in agreement.

"I suppose it is."

They sit there for an eternity, but nobody ever told Kojiro what to do when his guest isn't ready to leave and he isn't tired.

***

"He is far too nice," Kaoru whispers with a small scoff as he watches a display of Kojiro and his latest soul.

"You two know nothing of love," Adam says with a fond smile. He always had such a fond look when he saw Kojiro. He knew why, but he knew he would never remember why.

"Love? Being alone for years isn't love," Kaoru scoffs.

"Oh yes, you would have had them choose a weapon and you, Tadashi, would have poisoned them."

"It is their last meal," Tadashi shrugs indifferently at Adam’s words.

"We are much more efficient," Kaoru says.

"That is very true, but without someone like him I wouldn't be here," Adam starts with a small smile tugging at his lips. "So let him fall in love again and then let allow him the same grace you showed us?"

"You don't even remember that," Tadashi mentions.

"No. I don't, but the feelings — despite you two saying we don't possess them — they are still there. So he will fall in love," Adam spoke firmly before disappearing.

"Are we going to leave them be?" Tadashi asks.

"I guess. There is nothing else for us to do," Kaoru says. "Besides... his emotions may be foolish, but they certainly exist. He certainly does fall in love."

****

Ahhh this was long 😅 I didn't know where I was going with this 😭 I like it though!!! Sprinkled in some matchalove for those who want that :)

[aesthbaby]

Ghost

Summary: Do you remember the episode Demonology where we learned of Emily’s past? What if I told you, you were apart of it. After years of silence on her end, you end up meeting her again.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Prompt: here

Warnings: Cursing | Sadness | Typos

Word Count:

Masterlist

An: Dedicated to my hundredth follower. Ahhhh I'm too hype about this! I also made a slight change to the prompt but everything else is the same :)  Anon, I hope you enjoy.

Indignation

The screaming crawls up the walls of her oversized, child hood home to shake her ear drums. The thunder only adds fuel to the fire that is the rage possessed by both Prentiss’ as they continue their screaming match.

“Don’t you dare walk away when I’m talking to you!” Elizabeth’s voice matches the rain. The way she stomps behind her daughter looks almost comical.

“Back off mother.” She mumbles this more to herself than her mother.

She stops walking, planting her feet firmly on the Brazilian Chestnut flooring. “I will not ask you again.” She comes to a stop, takes a breath, and slowly turns to her mother. Not meeting her eyes, of course, because it’d hurt too much to see the hate in her eyes. “Look at me.” The mother growls. She slowly moves to meet her mothers eyes and finds nothing but rage there; energy matched to the thunder and rain outside. “You will not see that-” The derogatory term gets caught up in her throat.

Taking a step towards the elder, “What?” Daring to ask the question to which she already knows the answer. “What do you want to say mother?” Her jaw tightens, a sign that Emily knows all too well. “Spit it out.” Its taking everything in her not to raise her voice again and spew the word out for her mother.

Elizabeth takes a breath of her own before replying. “You are not to see that girl again or so help me, I will make sure she goes back to where she came from.” Before Emily could object, she speaks again. “That is final Emily.” Her voice holds strong, and suddenly the storm ceases its assault. 

All is quiet in the Prentiss house yet the tension remains; so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Disregard

The next morning you arrive to school earlier than usual, but for good reason. Some random college hoodie wrapped loosely around your torso and a dainty neck tucked under it. Your school uniform has never fit you quite right because of how late in the year you transferred, you know...left overs. Phone is going absolutely crazy in your shirt pocket but now isn't the time, you’re looking for somebody. You’re looking for her. Mr. Ricci’s voice can be heard on your left, telling a group of guys its time for class. Emily...where the hell are you?

As the day progresses you still see no sign of the brunette until now. “Emily!” Running up to her you deliver a swift punch to her shoulder. “Where the hell have you been?” When her eyes meet yours they puffy, like she’s been crying. “Em- I-”

“First of all, ouch. Secondly, I can’t right now.” She turns to walk off with her lunch in hand, but you quickly pull her back by her elbow.

“You ‘can’t’ right now? What the hell is wrong with you?” Its taking everything in you not to become overtly emotional. “And where have you been?”

“Y/n I’m sorry but I really can’t right now.” She pulls away from your grip. Leaving you more confused than before.

You scuff at her wording. “You never calls me by my first name...” Its always been her thing, starting with a joke about how she has another friend by the same name as you so she had to call you something else. The next day was the same, avoiding you at all costs.

But it didn’t stop there.

It felt as though you were left on a physical manifestation of ‘read.’ Her name with the red heart emoji attached, did not pop up on your phone for what seemed to be months but in reality it had only been a few weeks. If she were to simply pick up the phone you would have been able to tell her about your unforeseen departure time. Due to sudden changes in international studies, you had to leave and the academy needed their student back. The one of which you exchange places with in January. Tears spring to your eyes at the thought of leaving. Not only are you leaving her, but also leaving this city you got to call home.

Sunny days always seem to appear at the wrong time, your departure day. She’s not here to see you off, hasn’t been around for a while. Can you really blame her? She doesn’t even know you’re leaving because she wont pick up the fucking phone. It doesn’t matter anymore, your time is up and so is her’s. A line of black and white kittens sprint across the cobblestone streets and that right there is what makes you break down in tears. Seeing the delicate kittens run after a mouse while tripping over their own feet. Random yellow flowers peaking through the stone which you’ve never known the actual name of. That one girl in Chem that would bake cookies for the class on Fridays. Your host dad taking you to his favorite café that served an increasing number of Cuban smokers. Going to eat gelato after homeroom with that one guy who would always make Golden Girls references. Then there was Emily, the girl that gave you a dainty gold necklace for valentines day. The girl that got a random jock to stop harassing you. The person whose lap you’d lay in on Saturday mornings at the park, is the same person who randomly started to ignore you. Maybe you could have fixed things with her if you had more time. You were supposed  to have until June but suddenly everything shifted and all you were told is that you needed to come home, promptly. You couldn’t wait for her any longer, not even sure why you thought she’d come in the first place. Casting one last glance over your shoulder before stepping into the buzzing airport.

At least meet me half way.

Hereafter

"I don’t think so.” You laugh at your friend’s proposition to set you up on a blind date. “I am absolutely content with the way I choose to live my life.” Shifting a bit on the new couch that hasn’t been broken in, resulting in the stiff cushions.

He lets out this weird scuffing noise. “No you’re not. Remember last weekend when we tried to pull an all-nighter but your sleep deprived brain betrayed you?” At your nonchalant shrug, he continues. “You started rambling about just wanting to find some well educated, fun loving, female in this world full of bureaucratic straight men. Your words, not mine.” You throw a pillow at him but he swiftly doges it. “But you couldn’t have said it better.” These recent years have been a series of unfortunate dates that have ended in you lying about having to leave early for something.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend you should be getting home to?”

“Not tonight, I’m all yours. Apparently she has her knitting circle tonight.”

“That's what you get for dating an older woman.” 

“Its a five year age difference! What is wrong with you people?”

You hold your hands up in defense. “Nothing, as long as you’re both legal and she’s good to you, its fine by me.”

“Shut up!” He screeches. “Oh shit, don’t you have a meeting in the morning?”

“Yes sir.” He stands to take your glasses and plates in the kitchen but you object. “Leave it,” At his confused expression, you continue. “Cleaning helps me relax so I figured I’ll wake up early so I can do that and reduce my stress levels by at least ten percent.”

“Dude, you’re seriously weird.”

“Say another bad thing about me and I'm sending you home.”

Throwing him a few pillows from the hallway closet and a comforter just for him to scream, “Its too hot in this cottage core apartment!”

Its not even cottage core themed?? Its just cozy with a plant or two. Am I expected to live in an ice cold home? I feel like he’s just saying this because I’m gay.

Your prepared outfit hands on the back of your bedroom door, mocking you. Making you reconsider the entire thing and simply not go but it feels as though you’d regret it if you didn’t. Maybe not, who knows?

And with that as your final though, you drift off to sleep.

You wake at the amazing time of 6 A.M to see your guest gone with a note on the couch:

I cleaned up the mess from last night and I also did the dishes in your sink. Not sure how u slept through all of that...I made a fruit salad for ur breakfast and a normal one for lunch.

Good luck with your meeting!

And one of those old fashioned emoticons at the bottom corner. Idiot.

You eat the food he left from the fridge, brush your teeth with the news playing in the background, and continue on with the normal morning routine.

Gathering your lunch and the little items you feel like you’d need, phone, charger, paper work, and keys; you know, the works. Finally heading out to your destination with nothing but ambition, you run into a slight problem. 

Overlapping breakfast with an old friend of yours. “Hey, babe, I am so sorr-”

“Absolutely not, I don’t want to hear your excuses.” The positive voice rings through the phone like velvet sheets after a cold shower. “You missed our reservation!” Have to admit hearing them whine is pretty entertaining. “You had one job. One!” You guys met some years ago over some random online forum, arguing over some random movie. You don’t talk as much as you’d like but breakfast is always on the menu--mostly in February.

“Quick question, am I allowed to apologize?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, “Yes you may, but only in fruit baskets and coffee.”

“I got you, next time though. I’m on my way to something right now.”

“Something...” In comes the teasing undertone. “Does this ‘something’ have a name?”

Bursting into a fit of laughter at what is implied and replying, “Definitely not, its a work thing.”

“Speaking of work, I have to go. Ciao!”

Just in time to end the call, you pull into the designated parking deck from the email. Going through all of the security procedures was hell but blatantly necessary; the rest was gravy. Floating through the rest of the building gave you a slightly stressful feel because of all the men walking around with perfect suits and casting no glances your direction. When the glass doors labeled BAU appear, you take a deep breath and walk in with confidence. Taking in the buzzing sound of agents at work all around you. Agent Hotcher’s office is glaringly obvious: higher up than the rest, perfect overview of the hive, and in direct eye sight of the entryway doors.

Delivering a swift knock to the office door you hear a faint invitation from the inside. Walking in with a smile and straight back you are greeted with a man in a dark navy blue suit and a stoic look to attached to him. It first starts with the small talk of your experience, early life, skill sets, and what not.

“Agent Hotchner, might I speak out of line for a moment.” He gives you a skeptical look before nodding. “I understand the nature of this meeting but I am not completely sure why it was conducted.” His furrowed brown is not a good sign, making you correct your structure a bit. “Right, well,” God his stare is fucking intense. “What I mean to ask is, why am I here?”

That was bold.

“Agent, are you not aware that this is a Career Analysis Assessment?” As it slowly sinks in an O-shape forms with your mouth. Now you feel like a complete idiot in front of this prestigious, tight suited, man. “You were unaware? Its fine if you were,” You let out a sigh at the confirmation. “I have a tendency to write my emails with an excessive amount of four syllable words so one could see where the confusion originated.” You let out a nervous laugh at the realization that this is basically a job interview.

“I see that you’ve spent time studying abroad.” Indicated by the recommendations from your Italian Psychology teacher. “Why not join the CIA?”

“Dare I say, they make me nervous?” He cracks a small, very subtle, smile at the admission.

“What made you want to leave Human Resources?”

“I got tired of analyzing decisions with nothing but dead bodies and messy crimes and having my primal focus be the agents and not the victims or perpetrators. Using what I’ve learned as material for agents in training when I could have prevented it from happening.”

“Well said, but I need to be completely transparent with you.” This can’t be good. “I will admit that I have serious reservations about adding a Human Resources officer to my team.”

Shit let me stop him before this spirals. He thinks I’m a spy. “Sir, with all do respect, I have no intentions of being a bureaucratic spy. I’d also like to point out that I wasn’t that high on the HR totem pole to the point where I had an explicit say on what happens to agents, who is hire, fired, or how they’re trained. I analyzed and compromised while expressing my findings to an unbiased extent. If I wanted to be a spy I would have joined the CIA.” Besides, Head Quarter’s is the one that does all of that internal investigation stuff, not HR.

He doesn’t say anything or make any sudden movements for a good minute. I fucked up. That spy line was too far. “I’d like to offer you a position on this team, so long as you can start immediately.”

“Yes, of course I can! I don’t have much office supplies besides a pen or two and-”

“Its fine,” He stands from his seat and straightens the dark blazer. “I’ll have one of my agents show you around.”

From across the bullpen you spot a familiar blonde. “Oh my god!” The file in her hand falls to the floor. “Its you!” She practically squeals.

“Penelope, I didn’t know you work here.” You give your old friend a tight, unapologetic hug. She said she worked as a tech analysis but you always assumed it was for an activism group or a tech firm, not the FBI out of all things. Despite having such interesting jobs, you never talk about work with each other. She knows you work for the government but not which. Although knowing how good she is at uncovering people’s secrets, there’s a good chance she already knew you work for the FBI too.

“What are you doing here? Like physically here. I thought you were in Florida.”

“I have to get back, can you take care of Agent Y/L/N for me?” Hotchner says before rushing off without an answer.

And there she goes with the snooping. “Actually, I left the Florida office and went to California.”

“Oh.” Her face twists a bit. “And now you’re here?”

“I thought you were the woman behind the curtains, the all knowing.”

“And wonderful!” She points with her perfectly painted finger.

In comes a slim man with a messenger back, making a click in your mind. “Now where have I seen him before...” Turning slightly to follow his trail.

“That’s our resident genius Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Unbelievable. “He’s twelve.” The young agent’s head snaps toward you and Penelope, “Does he have super human hearing too?” She introduces you to the Doctor who is, as expected, socially awkward in many ways. A man named David Rossi of whom you’ve met at least once during a few Bureau seminars; last you heard he had rejoined the BAU after retirement. Jennifer Jareau is gorgeous with a nurturing nature about her, she immediately recognizes your name from exchanged paperwork but that’s about it. The introductions are brief, everyone seems to be busy with their own things. “Penelope your team is kind of small.” You quietly mention to her.

“Oh!” Guess the realization that two people are missing, finally clicks in her head. She starts walking in the direction of a staircase so you automatically follow her. “This is Derek Morgan.” Standing in front of a round table is a tall man with a really toned body. “Derek, this is Agent Y/n L/n from Human Resources.” His eyebrow arches up in suspicion.

“Oh no I’m not here for anything bad, I’ve actual been transferred into the BAU. Working behind a desk and watching as others do the work I can’t, wasn’t working out for me.” Definitely won’t trust me until I save his life or something. “I’ve heard of you, one of the Academy trainers has shown a few videos of you.” He smirks at the implied compliment and finally holds his hand out for you to shake.

“Where’s...” Pen trails while looking around.

“Oh she’s getting coffee.” The darker man points behind himself.

“Who’s getting coffee?”

Reconciliation

Maybe we wouldn’t be so short handed if they sprung for better coffee. Emily thought to herself while stirring the flavorless, dark liquid. What if they attach a coffee shop to the building? Imagine how much money the shop would make off of overworked agents. But then I feel like we’d start developing a true addiction to this stuff. Her thoughts are interrupted by the approach of foot steps. She meets Derek’s figure and smiles at the resident goofball of the BAU. Followed by Penelope’s pink centralized outfit with feathers. Then there’s you, just as beautiful as the last time you saw each other. If not more. Your hair shines amongst the florescent lights, paired with the perfectly tailored outfit and jewelry. The same eyes that would brighten her day as they met. An almost unnoticeable bounce in you walk, same as it were years ago. As you step towards her there is a flash of gold on your wrist that sends a ping to Emily’s heart, its the necklace I gave you in high school.

Intersect

You would have know about Emily’s transfer here from a few years ago, had her paperwork gone through the HR department but apparently it went straight to the top because this is definitely a surprise. Once you realize its actually her you stop dead in your tracks. Can’t be.

“Y/n,” She stutters out your name in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Emily, I work here.” Ripping the band-aid off like this is an every day encounter; seeing your unofficial ex who you were never actually with in the first place but had the same characteristics as a high school couple. Yeah...that.

She also blurted out a ‘no you don’t’ before Garcia interrupted. “How do you two know each other?”

You both snapped your heads to her simultaneously. “We don’t.” Also said that part at the same time.

“Right.” She drags. “I’m sensing some unresolved tension...”

“What are-” Em tries to object.

“So we’re going to go.” The tech analysis grabs the sleeve of the darker man and practically sprints off in the opposite direction. Morgan having a dumbfounded look on his face.

It feels like you’re at a stalemate, who will make the first move. What will the emotions be? Are they going to fly? Because I’d like to throw a few verbal punches her way. Who does that to someone? I thought I was over it but clearly the wound is still open. Great now watch her blame me for X, Y, and Z,

“I’ve missed you.” She barely whispers, sounding a bit broken yet insincere. Its like she’s detaching herself from the narrative. So unexpected that you almost think you’re imagining this. Why would she say that? This is not the Emily you remember.

Anger bubbles up in your throat ready to unleash upon her entirety. Instead of bursting into flames right on the spot, in the middle of your new place of employment you take a deep breath. Words of disbelief  dance on your lips before speaking. “You did not.” She tilts her head like a curious puppy. Who am I even talking to?

“What do you mean?” And just like that she’s whisked away by a guy in a suit of whom you do not recognize. Your jaw clinches in a desperate attempt to keep your cool, wondering what the hell is going on.

Realization

Besides the surprise of seeing Emily, your first day went great. Everyone kept checking up on you and you couldn’t tell if it was because they were trying to be friendly, excited to have a new teammate, or nervous of your background. “She used to work for the FBI Human Resources Branch.” You heard the skinny one tell Morgan when they thought you weren’t listening.

JJ and Penelope invited you out for drinks but all you really wanted to do was lay in your bed with a face mask and a bag of chips. Waving a farewell to the blonde women and head to your car, but a few feet away you feel a presence. You quickly loop around in search of the energy with your hand on the top of your gun. “Woah woah.” Emily holds her hands up in surrender.

At the realization of who it is you take a breath and clip your gun back in place. You give her a “what the hell look” before straightening your outfit.

“Were you going to shoot me?”

She’s met with wide eyes from your end. “Maybe?! Who sneaks up on someone with a gun?”

“I didn’t ‘sneak’ up on you.”

“Emily, you wear all black and walk like a feather. What were you expecting?” The buried anger is starting showing through.

“Okay,” She does a weird hand movement that kind of looks like she’s trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry. I just thought we could talk.”

“Talk...” You’re not really following.

“Yes, I’d like to talk.”

“Emily what are you asking? I’m lost.”

She take a moment to figure it out before answering. “For a second chance, I’m asking for another shot.”

You uncross your arms at the admission, letting them lazily fall beside you. “Em- I-” She can’t be asking what I think she is. “Its been years. More than a decade has passed since-” The words suddenly die on your lips

“I know,” And it looks like there’s a slight glimmer in her eyes, implying the presence of suppressed tears. “I’d just like to explain.”

“Explain?” You bite, tasting the bitter flavor of annoyance.

“Yes, I at least owe you that.”

And that’s how you ended up here, with her. In a cozy, minimalistic loft at nine in the afternoon with a coffee table separating the two of you.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing to break the silence, and this time it actually sounded sincere. “If I could have explained everything to you back then, I would have.”

You lean forward, closer to her and push the rather large vase off to the side so she has to be vulnerable with you. Nothing to help her hide from herself. At her confused face you lean back in your seat and nod for her to continue.

“My mother was always a difficult woman and although she has gotten better over the years, things were at their worst when she found out how much time I had been spending with you.” The brunette takes a minute before admitting the next part. “She was responsible for your early departure. I tried to stop her, give you more time but she’s relentless.” She waits for your reaction but when met with nothing, she continues. “She threatened me by putting our connection on the line, which in retrospect I now realize was impossible to save. She had already made calls to get you out of the country by the time I could sever what we had. I never wanted to hurt you or end what we shared.”

“And what did we share, Emily?”

Her tongue darts from between her lips, doing that weird little biting thing she’s always done since we’ve known each other. It sparks something in you that you haven't felt in a while. “I think you know. The fact that you still wear the necklace I gave you, bracelet, means you never really forgot.”

“I liked it where I could see it, but Em you could have called, texted even.” 

“I couldn’t I was scared. Then after you left I started to distance myself from everyone and everything was really going downhill.”

“How so?”

“I got mixed up with peer pressure and boys.” This doesn’t sound good. “At one point I did anything I could to fit in.”

“What does that mean?” There’s a moment when a tear wells up on one of her eyes, but not dropping. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I-” She tries to speak but nothing comes out. “I couldn’t tell my mother and the church wasn’t happy with my actions.” It suddenly dawns on you, like a smack in the face. You want to make her stop and just hold her but this needs to come out. “I couldn’t call you because it would hurt too much. I hated myself at that moment more than I ever have.”

“And you haven’t dated since?”

She sniffles and lets out a little laugh at that. “God no, I’ve dated people but I haven't dated another female since. It felt wrong, like I was replacing you or something.”

“You owe me nothing. You were just trying to protect me and I see that now.”

“I knew better, its been so long and when I heard you joined the academy I-”

“Wait, you knew and didn’t say anything?”

“Y/n I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other that attempt to move on.” Silence fills the room and its not the comforting kind. Its the tense, I need to do something, kind.

“Do you feel anything?” You dare to ask.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Were your feelings lost in transit?”

“They froze the day you left, and thawed the day I saw you again. Today.”

“So its not over.”

She appears to contemplate your statement. “No, its not over. We have a chance to start over.”

What now?

.｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*★*･ ･*･'･*:..:*･゜ﾟ･*☆*:. .｡.:*☆

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[justkending]

One Night Flame (Epilogue)

Series Summary: Y/N is a 3rd grade teacher, who had a really bad breakup. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does now a day, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets, and later has a one night stand with, may be harder to get rid of than she thought.

Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester

Word Count:  2200+

A/N: Pretty sure I wrote this series last year, and I’m just now getting around to writing a epilogue... OOPS! Anyway, finals are this week, so as soon as Friday comes... I’M FREE FOR 6 WEEKS BEFORE THE NEXT SEMESTER!! Which means, hopefully I can sit down and write:) So, enjoy the little I can write right now, and if you haven’t read the series yet! Please do! It’s a good one;)

Epilogue:

“The turkey Dean! The turkey!”

“Right! Right! I’m getting it…” Dean came from the living room, running through the backdoor as the timer went off for his experimental smoked turkey he was trying out for thanksgiving this year. 

“How do you think it’s going to go?” Sam asked, grabbing his wine glass that you had already refilled twice since he’d been there. 

He was helping you with the side dishes as Jess and her grandparents were in the living room, playing board games, waiting for dinner to be ready. Mon and Benny were also there for your feast since you and Dean had introduced them to each other about a month ago. They had really hit it off actually. Hence, spending thanksgiving with friends this year since they didn’t have really close family. 

“Honestly, pretty good. As soon as he got that damn smoker, he hasn’t stopped researching and finding recipes to use it. Even did a few practice rounds with brisket and pork,” you replied, putting the last bit of the deviled eggs on the platter in front of you before setting it up nicely. 

“Ok, but a whole turkey compared to brisket?” Sam questioned, raising his glass with an eyebrow just as high. 

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I doubled up on the sides, and I have a ham in the oven,” you chuckled, placing your hand on your belly unconsciously. 

Sam looked down at the motion. Everyone close to you knew. You told them pretty soon once you found out everything was healthy and on the right track in the pregnancy. 

“So… When do you guys figure out the sex?” Sam said, stepping closer and with a smile. “It’s getting close to that time right?”

It was. You were a little over 3 and a half months pregnant. You were the tiniest bit showing, but as soon as the bump became even a little visible, Dean couldn’t keep his hands off of your stomach. It was like he had magnets connected to them. You actually had gotten the results back yesterday, but were waiting to tell the whole family. Dean wanted to wait until his parents were in town, but as soon as you got the letter he almost ripped it open in excitement. Lucky for you, you hid it and convinced him to wait one more day like you planned. 

“Yeah actually. We, um,” you leaned in making sure no one snuck into the kitchen while you told him the little secret. “The letter came yesterday. We’re planning on opening it with all you guys after dinner.”

“After?!” Sam shouted, getting a hush from you. “Aw, come on. You’re going to make us wait?”

“They don’t even know their waiting,” you giggled, turning to the rolls now. Making sure the butter and silverware was out for final touches. 

“But I do, and now I have to wait,” Sam kinda pouted reminding you of Dean. 

“Hey, you asked, and I answered. Plus, you’re going to be waiting 45 minutes max. Who’s to say Dean can even wait that long,” you laughed again rolling your eyes. 

“Ok, turkey is done, and boy do I have a good feeling about it,” Dean said coming in with a proud smile. 

“Have you finally mastered the smoker?” you asked, placing a hand on you hip and the other on straightening your shirt. 

“Oh sweetheart, can’t you smell the victory. I’ve more than mastered it,” he winked walking over and placing that magnet of a hand on your belly without even thinking twice. 

“It’s not just in the smell. We have to taste it too,” Sam snorted. 

“Shut up bitch,” Dean huffed. 

“Dean,” you groaned knowing Jessie was in the other room. 

“Jerk,” Sam retorted instantly. 

“Children!” you interrupted. “Dinner smells amazing, and we should probably invite our guest to eat it before it gets cold. Hmm?” you said poking Dean’s side. 

“Ok, ok. I’ll start carving the turkey. Sam go get everyone,” Dean leaned in giving you a peck on the cheek before moving to the giant bird wrapped in foil. Once Sam was out of the room Dean pulled you close to where he was. “So, you have the envelope?”

“It’s still tucked away from you, you little sneaker. I’ll grab it once we finish dinner.” You maneuvered to where you leaned your cheek on his shoulder and a hand around his back as you watched him carefully begin to carve the turkey. He wasn’t wrong, it did smell amazing. 

“I was thinking maybe before dinner, and then we eat in celebration,” he said bargaining with you. “I mean, I was just thinking…”

“Just thinking? Like thinking all night, just thinking?”

“Maybe…” he dragged out. 

You let out a sigh with a little laugh as you squeeze his bicep. “Ok you impatient man. I’ll go get the envelope. We can do it before dinner if that’s ok with everyone.”

Dean pumped a fist in the air before giving her a big kiss on the cheek. “You go grab that, and I’ll finish carving up this bad boy. Hey Sam, you got everyone?” he shouted toward the living room as Y/N walked out. 

A few minutes later, everyone was in the kitchen looking at the buffet style of thanksgiving goodies scatter across the counter tops. Mashed Potatoes, rolls and biscuits, turkey, gravy, vegetables, stuffing, sweet potato and green bean casserole, the list went on. Y/N walking in last with the envelope in her hands discreetly. Dean saw her slightly wave it at him and he smiled before clapping his hands together. 

“Ok everyone, first off, thank you for allowing Y/N and I to host this year and bring you to our house. We are so very thankful for each and everyone of you, and could not ask for a better group of people in our lives.” Dean smiled as Y/N came and positioned herself into his side. Reflectively, his arm wrapping around her waist pulling her as close to him as he could get her. “We are also very grateful for another thing that happened to us this year,” he grinned, moving a hand to her belly. 

“Immensely,” Y/N smiled at him. The crowd in front of them happy to see their love. “Because of that, we thought why not have some of our favorite people here to share the next step in our news.” She turned back to them. 

“Wait, what next step?” Mary asked, standing next to her husband.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Sam cheered, getting a small slap to the arm by his mom at the language. “Sorry.”

“Wait, do you guys know the gender?” Smart little Jessie spoke up.

“That we do,” Dean grinned all proud. 

“Hey Jessie,” Y/N said, bending down some to her level. “The results are in this envelope. Do you want to open them and read it for us?” 

“I don’t want to mess it up,” she said, slightly nervous. 

“That’s ok. I’m sure your dad would love to help you,” Y/N encouraged.

“Yeah, come on over here Jay. I’ll help ya figure it out,” Sam said squatting with open arms. 

She nodded, taking the envelope and Dean helped Y/N back to her feet before they stood next to each other ready for the reveal. 

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Monique jumped up and down. The rest of the room balancing on their toes in excitement watching Jessie and Sam open the little white paper treasure chest. 

“I’m going to have another grandbaby!” Mary cheered her hands held tightly together as John laughed. 

“Ok, let’s see,” Sam said, scanning the paper for the information, and then pointing it out to Jess. “You ready?”

The excitement for the parents caused them to hold each other tightly in anticipation. 

“Can I say it?” Jessie asked, waiting for confirmation as she looked at her dad. 

“Yeah, go for it.” 

“It’s a girl!” Jessie jumped up and down as Sam smiled. “I’m going to get another girlfriend!”

“Oh my God!” Dean shouted, turning to Y/N and picking her up off the ground gently. The rest of the room cheered and jumped with joy as well. “We’re having a baby girl!”

“We are!” Y/N laughed holding onto Dean.

Once everyone had had their moment to jump and scream, they went around hugging and congratulating the couple. 

“I say we dine to that,” Dean said, raising a beer. 

“I agree with that,” Y/N nodded, raising her sparkling cider. 

Everyone dug into their meals and conversation went around the table. Some about school, some about the fire station, some about John thinking of adding on to the garage he ran. But the main topic of interest… Baby names? Nursery ideas? Who do you think she’s going to look like? When is the wedding again?Are you going to take off extra time at work? Have you gone dress shopping yet? How about babysitters? Do you know any around the area? 

“Oh, don’t worry about babysitters. That’s what the grandparents are for. And since I work from home, I’ll gladly take her off your hand when the time comes,” Mary winked. 

“We’ll definitely be calling you sometime mom. Don’t worry,” Dean laughed leaning back after a full meal. “Now, where’s the pie?” 

______

Later that night.

“So a girl? You think you can handle that?” Y/N smiled as she pulled the covers back and maneuvered to her side of the bed. Her nightly routine was all done as Dean brushed his teeth in the connected bathroom. 

“Of course I can handle that. I helped Sammy raise Jessie. What? You think I can’t do it? Think of me as a boy dad?” Dean wrinkled eyebrows after spitting the toothpaste out. 

“Dean, no one said anything about you not being able to do it. I’m just saying, and even Jessie hasn’t got to this age, girls tend to grow up and-” she started. 

“No, no. I’m not talking about growing up and starting dating, if that’s what you’re getting at. Cause she’s still a little bean in your belly, and even after she comes out, she’ll be a little bean forever,” Dean started.

“I was going to say that I feel like teenage angst with girls is a lot harder, but you just skipped right to the dating part,” Y/N laughed, grabbing her book on her bedside and gently running a hand up and down her stomach. 

“Either way, I’ll take care of it,” Dean said as he flossed in the mirror. “By the way, any of those names mentioned at dinner sound any good to you?”

“Although I love your mom, I don’t think Bertha is going to be up there…”

“Yeah, I don’t know where she got that. I think it was a family name way back when, but I’m not even so sure about that,” Dean cringed coming back in the room. “What about Daisy? That was Jessie’s, wasn’t it?”

“Eh, not bad, but I feel like there is something better. No offense to Jess.”

“Yeah, agreed,” he said, sliding in the bed and making himself mold into Y/N’s side as she read her book in one hand, and played with his hair in the other. 

“What about Winona?” Y/N offered. 

“Like Ryder?” Dean perked up.

“Well I guess, but that wasn’t who I was thinking of. Just liked the name,” she chuckled.

“What about Ryder? That’s badass,” Dean said no in his own world. When he didn’t get a response he looked up to see Y/N with a bitch face. “What?” 

“Nothing, dork,” Y/N sighed. “But let’s keep our options open. 

“Ok, hit me with another.”

“I like Reese…”

“Not bad, not bad. What about Dakota?” Dean countered. “I have a really good friend that lives up there in South Dakota.” 

“Who do you know in South Dakota,” Y/N shrugged, going back to the book in front of her. 

“Same person who was able to pull some strings and get me your address when I first met you,” Dean admitted. 

“What?” Y/N said looking back at him. 

“Her name’s Jody. She’s in the police force up there, and she has some outs and ins with the big people,” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. 

“You little rascal. You really went above and beyond to bring me that scarf back,” Y/N laughed. 

“I had to see ya again darling. Can you blame me?” Dean leaned up kissing her cheek. “Hey, let’s talk about all this tomorrow. Cooking up Big Bird himself made me tired. Then you add in-”

“The 3 slices of pie you ate on top of your thanksgiving plate? Yeah, you’re about to have a carb and sugar crash.”

“You guessed it.”

“Get some sleep Dean-o,” she smiled as he cozied up into her while she read her book. Within minutes his soft snoring took up the room. Like every night, he had to fall asleep with at least one of his hands on her stomach. She woke up with him doing the same thing too. “You’re going to be an amazing father, Dean Winchester. Glad I’m doing this with you.”

One Night Flame Tag:

@a-magey @thatgirl1456 @marvelfansworld @shadowkat-83 @death-unbecomes-you @closetspngirl @perpetualabsurdity @deansyahtzee  @vicmc624 @classydreamerprofessorpeanut @sisterslytherinog @carryon-doctor-lock @spndeanlover1967 @akshi8278 @jjlevin @parinarain @capsiclehan @word-scribbless @kind-im-gedankennebel @camillechan @larpandtherealgirl @winchestergirl82 @i-am-a-mes @atomicloverdonkeyperson @tranquility-or-chaos

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @hobby27 @sucker-for-dean @deans-baby-momma @squirrelgirl67 @death-unbecomes-you @snffbeebee @larpandtherealgirl @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @spnbaby-67 @akshi8278 @musiclovinchic93 @vicmc624 @carryon-doctor-lock @perpetualabsurdity @herscrunchiehairtie @spnwoman @shamelesslydean @monkeymcpoopoo @winchestergirl82 @luciathewinchestergirl @deansyahtzee @thatgirl1456 @sucker-for-dean @atomicloverdonkeyperson @screechingartisancashbailiff​ 

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @traceyaudette @kakakatey @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @snffbeebee @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted

[writingtantrums]

big spoon || remus lupin

Pairings: Remus Lupin X Reader

Summary: You’ve been captured by Death Eaters for a few weeks, recovery is hard but at least Remus is there for you.

Warnings: Torture, panic attacks

Screams ripped out of your throat as a curse rippled through you. If you could have moved you’d be trembling but, you hadn’t had that privilege for a few days. The last thing you could remember before they took you was his green eyes, wide in horror and the start of your name on his tongue. Another red flash and you were consumed in pain again, black dots appearing in front of you as you felt yourself losing consciousness. You knew if you just opened your mouth, answered their questions, it would all end. You wanted it to end so badly, you wanted to tell them what they wanted but you knew that you’d rather die with the information then live as a coward. As your eyelids drooped you heard a loud bang. Flashes of light suddenly exploded all around the room, a warm hand cupped your bruised cheek. Green eyes were the only thing you saw before you passed out.

The next thing you were able to process was a dull ache in your head and the sound of hushed whispers. A soft groan was all you were able to manage at the moment and the voices immediately stopped.

“She’s awake, go get him.” A familiar voice whispered loudly and a trampling of footsteps immediately thunder away.

You open your eyes slowly and it takes a second for things to focus, with a happy start you realize you can move your body again. You hold your hand up to your face and wiggle your fingers, a dopey grin and a choked sob show how relieved you are to be able to do that again. You barely register the way that the ground has started shaking until it’s right outside of the small room. In a second the door is flung open and he’s standing there, chest heaving and eyes wild. They calm for a second when they meet yours and suddenly you are enveloped in his arms. His shoulders shaking as he openly sobs. You lay there a little shocked, you haven’t had kind human contact in so long that you can’t help but freeze.

“Remus?” You croak out, your voice has only been used for screaming and telling people to fuck off for the past few weeks so you suppose it’s okay that you sound like a 90 year old smoker for a little.

“Y/N,” His voice trembles, and he pulls away from the embrace to look at you.

You watch the way that his brow furrows in distaste at the state of your face, he carefully runs a thumb over your raw skin and you suck in a quick breath as it stings. His fingers flinch away from your face and he sighs. You notice the way that the skin under his eyes, always a little tired, seemed to be stained with dark circles. You frown at him, struggling to sit up so you can get a better look at him. You don’t like seeing him like this.

“I’m okay,” He assures you with a watery chuckle, running his fingers through his greying hair. “Though I feel as if our roles should be reversed.”

“I’m okay too.” You say, wincing as he pushes you back down into the bed.

“You shouldn’t be moving.” He says sternly, “We would have taken you to a real hospital like Saint Mungo's but...Well you know. Molly’s done her best but she isn’t a professional healer so you’ll need to stay put for a while. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nod, a little annoyed but too tired to argue. Even this little interaction has left you drained. Your eyelids flutter shut despite your desire to stay awake.

“Sleep.” Remus whispers, brushing his lips against your forehead.

You think you nod but you can’t remember if you actually do or not because you find yourself slipping into a deep sleep.

.....

A week of sitting in a bed and you’re finally allowed to walk around. The first few steps of your new freedom are wobbly but you manage, flipping Remus off whenever he tries to help.

“You should sit down.” He frets, tugging lightly at your arm as you make it up the stairs. He stops nagging at the nasty look you give him, hands raised in surrender. You’re tired of being babied, all anybody has done since you’ve been back is treat you like an invalid. You were lucky if you could grab a cup of water on your own without someone taking over.

“I’m perfectly fine making it up the stairs Rem,” You huff though you can feel your body becoming tired. You’ve lost a lot of muscle over the past few weeks, what used to be easy tasks now leave you wiped out.

He hums and raises his eyebrows, doubting your words. You make a face again but move in to give his shoulder a light kiss. You feel his arm wrap around your shoulder and you sigh happily, leaning into him slightly. You pout a little when he moves away, but he ignores you as he leads you to your old room at the end of the hall. You push the door open and suddenly you’re nervous. Remus has been at your side every second of the day but at night you force him to go sleep in an actual bed and not the much too small chair next to your sick bed. You mostly do it because you know that his body, already sore from transforming every month, would protest greatly to sleeping in a chair but you also do it because at night, the quiet let’s you think about what happened there.

“Are you alright?” His hand is at the small of your back, fingertips pushing you slightly in the direction of the bed. You shoot him a look to let him know he isn’t being sneaky and he gives you a slightly embarrassed smile at being caught.

“Fine.” You say, clearing your throat and walking over to the bed. He sits next to you, knee lightly knocking against yours.

There is a silence that falls over the two of you, it comfortable but you can feel a lingering sense of sorrow.

“I was so worried about you.” Remus says, breaking the silence. “I saw you get hit by one of the Death Eaters, I tried to get to you but…”

“It’s okay Remus.” You coo, grabbing his hands in yours and squeezing them tightly. You watch him shake his head and furrow his brow.

“It isn’t.” He swallows thickly and you can feel the way his hands are shaking. “I should have gotten to you in time. If I was better maybe I would have gotten to you in time and you wouldn’t have had to go through that. I can’t...I couldn’t function with you gone. Everytime I closed my eyes I could see them and you and….”

“Remus, it wasn’t your fault. If anything it was mine.” You sigh, suddenly annoyed at yourself. “I lost focus for just a second and he got me. Mad-Eye would be so damn mad at me if he knew, you know how much he makes us practice.”

“Well if it can’t be my fault it can’t be your fault either.” He says with a deep sigh.

“Deal.” You say with a soft laugh.

.....

He falls asleep before you that night. Soft snores as you’re brushing your teeth tells you that he’s really out. You brush some hair out of his face. You love watching the way his face becomes peaceful when he sleeps. It’s as if the years of trauma and difficulties just slip away and he’s just a young man again. You wish he could always look like that, peaceful and unworried. Sighing, you lie down and look up at the ceiling until you swear that it’s been hours. With a loud snort Remus rolls over and wraps his arms tightly around you. At first it’s fine, you enjoy the warmth that it brings but after a minute you realize you can’t move.

“Rem.” You whisper, struggling to wake him up so that your heart can stop pounding so fast. He mumbles a few incoherent words but doesn’t wake up.

You’re trying not to remember the way that the spell bound your arms to your side the way his arms are and how claustrophobic you feel. Quick gasps pepper your breath and you use all of your strength to shove him away from you. You need to be able to move, you need to get away from him now. With a second shove he rolls off the bed and jumps up immediately when he hits the floor, eyes wide. You make eye contact for a second, tears spilling from your eyes and chest heaving for air before you flee to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

You feel his body hit the door right after you close it but you can’t let him in right now. You lock the door quickly and you hear him fumble with the door knob.

“Y/N!” Remus calls your name.

You feel yourself shaking violently, a panicked laugh bubbles up and spills out from your lips before becoming heart wrenching sobs.

“You need to breathe love.” Remus says, his voice softening as he hears you choking on tears.

“I literally can’t.” You manage to pant between quick gasps.

“Can you let me in?” He begs, jiggling the doorknob again. You want to let him in but you also want to be alone to have a mental breakdown.

“No.” You stutter, should your heart be pounding so loudly all over your body like this? You’re starting to feel light headed, hyperventilating is definitely not helping.

“Please?” He coos, quiet requests for you to let him in and calming sentences that you can barely register.

“I think….I’m having a….fucking heart attack.” You gasp, clutching at your shirt and trying to pull it away from your body.

“No darling, it’s a panic attack.” Remus answers quietly. “You need to try and breathe or you’re going to faint.”

“I’m...trying.” You force yourself to focus on your breath. You can hear Remus counting and breathing loudly, instructing you to do what your body should be perfectly good at doing all on its own. You focus on the way his inhales sound, imagining the way his shoulders would rise and fall, and how the tiled floor feels on your bare feet. In a few breaths you no longer feel like throwing up and you stop leaning against the wall.

“Can you please let me in Y/N?” You hear him beg again.

You slowly unlock the door and look up at him. His face is tense, eyebrows drawn together and jaw clenched tight.

“Sorry for pushing you out of the bed.” You try to joke, but a look at his face shuts you up.

“Y/N, what happened?” Remus gently clasps his hands around yours and pushes his lips to the top of your head, mumbling into your hair he asks “Did I do something?”

You shake your head but then you sigh realizing that it isn’t completely true. “You were cuddling me.”

He pulls away from you, hurt evident on his face but he says nothing as he waits for you to continue.

“I couldn’t move Rem, I felt like...I just couldn’t move.” You hear your voice tremble and you  shove your face into his chest as tears slip from your eyes.

“Oh.” Realization in his voice, wrapping one arm loosely around your head he kisses your hairline and mumbles soft apologies that you shush away.

After that night you become the big spoon as you learn to accept the comfort of his arms once again.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Daddy Cant Save You Now, Princess

Summary- 3.8k Robert (Mr.Softee x Y/N) Robert Pronge is a Hitman for hire, and his target, well it's you. He's supposed to kill you, dispose of the body, earn the payout. But he's got a better idea for you. Written for @jtargaryen18​ 30 Days of Chris challenge. 

Warnings- Triggers, abuse/torture, Non Con, Oral, Male Receiving, Erratic behaviours, launguage, Listen this whole thing is just dark and evil. He wasn't a good person, you will find nothing good in this fic. 

The man stood over your body, his foot giving your unconscious body a rather hard nudge against the ribs and nothing. He had knocked you out cold. Robert had no trouble weaseling his way into your apartment. His guise as a repairman worked, you so trusting and innocent opened the door to him. The sweetest smile on your face when he told you that your father sent him to repair the sink. You gave him a funny look as if you knew him before opening the door further to let him in. Silly little cunt. 

“Of course, I was just telling Daddy that it kept clogging up.” You would flash that soft pink smile of yours that made his cock twitch, and well fuck if it hadn't been a while. His son's whore of a mother had cut him off a while ago. And he didn't feel like shelling out the cash for a hooker. Especially one he had to 'restrain' himself with. Robert made the decision a couple days ago you wouldn't die. Bodies are always just disappearing all the time, would be easy enough to say you were cut up, disposed of all over the fucking place. Well... Wouldn't Daddy shell out a fortune for his little girl, the course would he give you back? Fuck no. You were his. Till your body was no longer satisfying. Or used up. 

“Yes, Daddy sent me.” Robert took on a menacing look, cold, killer, his hands itching to wrap around your sweet bird-like neck to feel how brittle you were. Normally it wasn't his style, but you sweetheart made him feel feral. You made it so easy, a rag from his pocket over your face when he locked you in his hold. Once you collapsed in your arms, he took a dragging breath of your hair, and shuddered while rubbing himself against your ass. You were gonna be fun.  

And now you were unconscious, for the time being. Robert got you dragged out, how fucking easy was that? Not really. Thankfully you had a fire escape out the back of your apartment, and with some maneuvering, he backed his Mr.Softee Ice Cream truck up to it. It was good and dark when he brought you down the escape, stuffing you in the back like someone might toss in a rug they were pissed off at. Your body thunked against the metal of the floor of the van, and he paid no mind to it. Minor, oh so minor for what he wanted to inflict on you. 

When you were waking up on a cement floor, you groaned. A weird taste in your mouth had you smacking your lips, and your tailbone was sore like you had fallen. “What is going on?” you question yourself, rubbing the back of your head as you twist to a sit. And you come face to face with the man who you let in your apartment, his face was literally inches away, you could have rubbed noses with him. Huge wire rim glasses frame his face, and his heavy hair hung around his face framing it. His breath hot and sour, you yelp and try to pull away, but he grabs a fistful of hair, twisting it viciously to keep you from being able to move. “Well look at the Princess, finally awake. Enjoy your beauty sleep Doll? Cause you look like fucking shit.” He laughed darkly, pulling himself to a stand, and dragging you up to, not very graciously, you swore you lost half your hair, making you cry. 

“Who are you? What do you want? Daddy will-" 

Robert's other hand popped you in the face, mimicking in a high pitched sweet voice. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Come save me Daddy.” he sneered in a way you could have sworn the man had fangs, so deviously looking at you as you struggled, which did nothing to loosen his hold. “Oh please. Daddy ain't seeing you ever again Princess. So you might as well give that up. You're my little fuck toy now. Should have learned not to let people into your apartment.” He yanked on your head again, sending you sprawling forward onto a dirty mattress in the corner of the room. Your face planted in it, muffling a cry and making you inhale against the unimaginable dirty fabric. It was brown spotted with what you feared to be blood, and you rolled quickly to see him shucking clothes, talking to himself. 

“Break her in, yes sir. Ain't had my dick sucked in some time, but right now I want to see what she's got under that skirt of hers. Oh Mr.Softee, you've earned this.” And that's when it clicked, the ice cream truck across the street you visited the other day, standing in line till you got to the window, and out popped the driver's head, long hair resting just over his shoulder and huge sunglasses covering half his face. 

“Whaddya want sweet thing?” He grinned, his teeth slightly off yellow, like that of a smoker. It was slightly off-putting, but he seemed nice none the less. 

“Do you have any of those rocket pops?” You asked with some excitement, all this well it brought you back to Summers on the beach. Right down to the ice cream truck. The familiar logo on the side of the creemee with a face, arms, and legs. An oddball cartoon character of an ice cream cone. 

“Sure we do sweetheart, give me just a second.” And he disappeared, you played with your coins, feeling like it was taking a bit longer then it should, a line forming behind you when he came back to the window, the all familiar red, white, and blue ice looking extra cold, extra tasty on this hot day, licking your lips with expectation as you held up your change to him. 

“No no, a pretty thing like you, Nah. My freebie of the day.” He pulled down his sunglasses enough to wink at you, and a shiver ran up your spine as you gave a little wave while leaving. Was that the ice cream or the man that caused that.  

Robert smirked as you walked away, crossing the street with a sweet little away to your hips under your flowing skirt, the way you would bring that popsicle up to your lips to suck on the ice. Cursing with an appreciative groan thinking of those pretty pink lips sucking his cock in just the same way, the next person in line spoke up. “Are you giving away free ice cream today Mister?” 

Robert immediately snapped his eyes to the kid looking hopeful. “What? Fuck no, what the hell do I look like a charity? If you ain't got money, git outta here brat.”  

You blanched hearing him, and look wildly around the room, for any way out. Scrambling across the mattress and pulling yourself to a stand, you bolt to a steel door, grabbing at the meat locker style handle and yanking on it. There's a menacing laugh behind you, followed by snorts as you look over your shoulder to see Robert in just a pair of boxers descending on you. You bolt to the right, looking for windows. Maybe you can crawl out a window, and you balk at the wall when you see, all of them, boarded up except for ones ten plus feet up, letting in the morning light. “Where you going, Princess? My little sweet treat? Awww, you think you get to just say no to me? You get to leave? Your such a stupid little cunt bitch.” His voice taunting. You whipped around to face him, on your toes as you shifted towards another door, one that looked regular. He grinned when he saw your plan. 

“Do it, Princess, if you can get out that door, I will let you go.” He winked at her, this was the face of the devil, and you spit at him when he lunged, racing to the door, wrenching it open you fall into a closet-sized bathroom, screaming in fear and frustration when he now really does have you cornered, laughing shrilly as he yanks you out, and stuns you with a blow to the head. Not enough to make you pass out like before, but stunning you enough so when he yanked you into his chest, licking the side of your face like you were an ice cream cone, you didn't try to stop him. 

“Oh fucking hell Princess, that was good. GOOD. I love it when you bitches do that. Think I'm fucking stupid or something.” This time your heart is sinking and bile is rising in your stomach making you gag. Robert rolls his eyes as you stumble along. Your mind process all he's saying, what is going on. He's had other victims in here before, other women locked in this room. Where he's god and your nothing. This time you try tearing at his hand. “Let me go! LET ME GO!” Your screaming now as loud as he could, and he whips you around to face him, again your face gets it, hard enough to whip your face back and forth and he pinched your cheek in a hold, snarling at you. “Fucking keep it up, and I'm gonna shove something so far down your throat, your fucking little voice will break, Ya Hear Me? Disrespecting little cunt, probably the pussy won't even be worth this effort.” 

Shoving you down, he was just as quickly over the top of you, catching your hands and twisting you till you were on your stomach, screaming and calling him every name you could think of in the book. It wasn't many, you were proper good girl cause your daddy expected it, and Robert, will he found that fucking stupidly cute. His cute little dumb Princess. “Please! Daddy will pay anything you ask for, just give me back to him!” 

Robert leaned over you, your hands pinned at your back, and his knee shoved hard between your thighs to rub against your core. It hurt how hard he was pressing against you, crashing down on your back so dragging in the air was damn near impossible, pushing your face back into the mattress, he gave a fucking little giggle of delight, you shuddering when his hair dragged across your face you twisted to the side so you could breathe. “Daddy is gonna pay my employer. Everything he asks for, cause he's already got the news.” He ripped your panties off and hiked that skirt up over your ass. Robert pinched it with his free hand, making you arch to get away, but he yanked your hips back up for his access. “His little princess pride and joy is Dead. Killed and disposed of, never to be seen again. Gotta protect your sisters, right? Oh, he's coming up with the money right now to keep your other little snot-nosed brat siblings safe. Your fucking dad has more kids then fucking brain cells.” 

Tears fell, and fell and fell as he fucked you right there on that dirty mattress, taunting you the whole time, whipping you around, covering you in bruises and bite marks. They fell when he rolled away, satisfied he 'broke in his new toy' as he called you, and they fell as he got his coat and left you all alone with nothing more than a sore body, dirty mattress, and a single chair table set. This was now your life, your entire existence. 

The time he left you alone, you searched the entire room high and low. Trying to pry the boards off the windows that were close to the ground, but when you chipped away at one, heavy bars were blocking anyway out, and you looked, nothing but a desolate lot facing some train tracks. Which you studied for hours. Not a soul passed through, not a train whizzed by. You pulled back and looked around the room again, to find nothing but the giant steel door. Your only way to escape. You stomp over to it, and wrench on the handle, yank and tear at it till your nails are bloodied stubs of what they used to be. Your feet try kicking at it in frustration, crying out when your toes smash against it, and you fall in front of it, sobbing. 

A couple of days later he returns, a paper bag in his hand. He whistles as he comes in, shoving the door to lock behind him and looks at you sitting on the corner of the mattress, staring off at nothing, then snapping back at him. “You came back... I didn't think you would.” He snorted as if you were being ridiculous and rolled his eyes with an exaggeration. “Fucking drama queen much Princess? Course I'm coming back. Fucking stupid as you look.” He set the bag down, and you didn't dare move, dare approach him. He yanks out some bags of gas station chips, beef jerky, snack cakes, and a few bottles of water, dumping them on the table. As well as a bottle of soap. “I expect you to stay clean" He tossed the bottle at you that bounced on the mattress. “I ain't fucking no dirty whore. Did that enough with my son's mother.” 

He chortles as if amused and you kick the bottle away from you. “Fuck you.” That made him snap ramrod straight, peering over his glasses at you. “What. Did. You. Just. Say?” 

“You heard me perfectly clear, Fuck off you fucking dick.” 

“Oh your gonna wish you ain't never said that.” and before you could even try to get away, he straddled you onto the mattress, shoving your hands under his knees, he rolled forward to put all his weight into your wrists, making you cry out and screaming even louder. “I told you before, I like my bitches loud. Keep screaming, gives me a fucking hard on.” And he was right, staring you right in your face was a tent in his uniformed pants. wrenching your mouth to open with the use of pressure against your jaw, and using his teeth, he pried the bottle top off. 

“Think you can talk with a filthy mouth princess? Gotta clean out all that shit you be spewing with soap.” And he tipped that bottle, squeezing the blue soap to fall into your mouth, slipping to the back of your throat, and tossing the bottle aside, he used the heel of his hand to snap your jaw shut and covered your mouth and nose. “SWALLOW IT!” You start gagging underneath him, tears brimming and falling, heaving as if you were going to puke. Last second he released you, and you rolled spitting up the blue bubbles soap, already starting to get activated. 

Of course that wasn't the end of it, he taught you all sorts of things he enjoyed that night. Making you choke on his cock, making you gag and lungs burn like they couldn't breathe, waiting until you were starting to turn red and fought to pull off him to take that breath of air. “You ain't never sucked cock before? all bitches need to know how to handle dick in the mouth.” He shoved you back on him, and you were praying he would finish soon. Tearing you apart from the inside out, leaving you broken again. 

After he's sitting on the edge of the mattress, yanking on his pants and grunting as he got up, twisting to look at his back “aww shit, Princess you did mark me fucking up. Just blame it on a whore when the wife asks. Not that she fucking cares.” You try to move, but it just hurts, all of you hurts. He leans down and pops his hand against your cheek and you open your mouth to protest, him grasping your chin to keep your mouth open for a lewd kiss. “Mmmhh, you taste all squeaky clean. Too bad we know your not. See you soon Princess, foods on the table. Better make it last, might be a few days.” 

And with that he left, your second time with Robert was just as horrifying as the first. After several hours you nibbled on the cakes and sipped on the bottle of water, grimacing whenever you felt the soap taste in your mouth. You could feel yourself breaking just a bit more with each second passing. You tried to convince yourself that your Dad would save you, he just had to. But you knew deep down he would just take you as a lost cause. He still had your other siblings to worry about. 

Your life became routine. He would come for a night or a day, fuck you in all brutal manners, some times afterward he would shove you away from him when he was done, usually along the lines of “Get off me you filthy cunt. Don't you ever clean yourself up? Not even worth the effort fucking you good and proper anymore.” Other times he would have you lay your head on his chest, and he would be... kind and gentle. Talk about his latest hit with his partner Richard. It would make you grimace in horror how he described the use of the poisons when they would freeze the bodies, packing the ice cream he would sell to innocent little kids and there stupid dumb ass parents. Bodies kept the cones more solid he claimed. How you envied those people. They got to have a painless existence with him. Nothing more then shells gone from this world. 

You hated them more then you should, and you always felt guilty for it. 

The only other constant thing was the gas station food. You would give anything for a piece of fruit, a sandwich, anything that was real. Not beef jerky, and chips. He even limited the bottles of water when he caught you drinking the dirty tap out of desperation. That day when he was shoving shit on the table, he seemed to be fine, even pulling out a hair clipping kit and yanking the chair out to sit down. “Get over here, you any good with cutting hair? I need it shaved off, fucking all gone.” He plopped in the chair. “Come on Y/N, ain't got all fucking day.” Maybe, just maybe if you are good, you can ask him for a favor. You put on your sweetest smile, the one you knew he liked and approached him. Looking down in his lap, was a cocked pistol. He caught you looking at him. “You know, in case you decide to do some stupid shit.”  

You sheer off his matted hair, trim it up best you could with what he gave you, and underneath it all, there was not a bad looking man. You were taken aback at feeling that way looking at him, but you were. His hand came up to brush through the bristles, and yanked you in his lap, grinding you against his erect cock. “Good Girl Princess, look at you finally learning to not be a little brat and be good for once.” 

“Really Robert?” You bite your lip, and you see his eyes flashing at you, his hand hiking up your skirt and rubbing at your bare pussy, working to make you slick for him. It was distracting, but you wouldn't forget, couldn't forget, and he claimed you were a good girl after all. “would I fucking say it if I didn't mean it? Why do you say this stupid shit?”  

He kept fingering you, so far gentlest he's ever treated you and you contemplated waiting, but he was smart and sensed your hesitation. “You should probably just tell me, what the hell is it?” He twisted his wrist and hit that spot he once in a while would have you falling apart for him. “Oh...I... wondered if maybe, you could...” You panted and fisted your hands in his shirt. “would bring me an apple?” 

“Your kidding, you want a God damn apple?” Robert's lips curled up, and you knew you made a mistake. He wrenched his fingers out of you and shoved you off his lap to the floor, wincing as you tried to get away from his boots. He managed to plant one, right on your ass to send you skittering across the floor. “I work my ass off to keep you taken cared of up here, your daddy has given up on you. And you aren’t even fucking grateful! I bring you food and company.” He ripping into the bags, and you're crawling across the floor, clutching at his leg. “Please! No, I'm sorry Robert! I appreciate it, all of it!” 

“Too late, if I wasn't too tired I would do worst.” He spitting in everything, smooshing it all together and breaking it. “You can eat the soggy crumbs, remember who gives them to you when you eat my spit, Princess. All a cunt bitch like you deserves. Get on the mattress, face down ass up. All your fucking good for.” 

At this point you don't have any fight left in you, you do as he tells you, and as he's pounding you from behind, hand fisted in your hair to keep your head tipped back so he could lean over easier and spat in your face, he's having you tell him 'Thank you' over and over, how bad you were, how worthless you were, how loving and kind he was. He jizzed all over your back when he was finished. “Think about what you are worth to me Princess, cause one of these days I might not come back.” 

You just stare at him while laying on your side, watching him dress, nodding to him. “Yes Robert, I understand.” 

“Do you? Do you fucking understand?” He leaned over and spit in your face one last time to drive his point home before he grabbed his jacket. “Cause I don't have time for you to be a cunty bitch all the damn time. Somedays I'm tired. Tired of the attitude Princess.” He strides towards the door. “See you in a couple of days. If I feel like it.” 

A couple of days passed and you don't see him. You figure he must still be mad at you, and punishing you in another sick twisted way. More days pass and madness starts to set in. Another fear, was he serious this time? You pass your days prying off the wooden boards, praying someone will pass, but no one ever does. This is a warehouse, no one comes to look at warehouses, they are the eyesores of the city. 

More days pass, your food is gone, your resulting in drinking as much water as possible to keep your hunger pains from making you feel sicker than you already do. Panic, cold and sharp has started to set in. His thread rattling in your brain. Think about what you're worth to me Princess, cause of these days I might not come back. Had you pushed him that far? You cried while banging on that door, listening, praying someone would hear you. And each day there was nothing but silence. 

How much longer could you last?  

[lloydskywalkers]

call the police and the fireman

I have zero explanation for this except that during the rare occasion of me working on my original novel, it occurred to me that out of all the dragon characteristics Lloyd could have, I’ve been short-changing him on of the coolest ones possible. Also @ninjawhoa did not talk me down so here’s Lloyd ignoring his one brain cell. 

In his defense, Lloyd most certainly had not been trying to completely eviscerate the inside of his throat. That hadn’t been like, anywhere even remotely near the end goal. Was it something he'd wanted? No. Was it something he’d planned? Of course not, his plans aren’t that bad. Was it something he probably should have expected?

….well, maybe, but it’s too late now.

Way too late, Lloyd thinks to himself, as he finishes hiding the last specks of the incinerated fire alarm in the bathroom trash and immediately retreats to sticking his head beneath the running faucet again.

The thing is, though, smart as he normally is, Lloyd’s had it — well, he’s had it not so great, lately. It hasn’t been the easiest of times in his life, which is saying something, compared to the rest of it. So maybe he’d gotten a little too focused on the barest shred of good news he’d received during the entire thing, sue him.

You try being told you’ve actually been part-dragon your entire life, what would your first move be? And having grown up with dragons as a normal staple in his life, Lloyd’s had a whole lot of inspiration on that front.

In hindsight however, Lloyd thinks, as he tries not to cry over his poor, mutilated throat — he probably should’ve stuck with like, trying to give himself claws, or something. Or even the flying thing. The flying thing would’ve been way better.

The worst part is that it actually looked so stupid cool. Kai would lose his mind over how cool this is, and Lloyd can’t even show him, because he might lose his mind in an entirely different and much less enthusiastic way.

Lloyd tries for a tentative “hey guys”, and immediately doubles over in a bout of wheezing gasps, wishing he’d tried for the sweet bliss of unconsciousness-via-head-bashing instead.

Stuffing a towel in his mouth so the rest of the team doesn’t hear him hacking like a chronic smoker, Lloyd wonders 1) how long it’s going to take the green power to fix his throat, 2) how long he’s going to be able to get away with not speaking, and 3) how much of this he can blame on his great-grandmother before she vaporizes him.

He comes to the conclusion that he’s just gonna blame the whole thing on her.

******************************

Despite the circumstances they’d met under, Lloyd likes his great-grandmother. She’s pretty cool, as far as family members go, and he enjoys talking with her, even if ninety percent of their conversation ends up devoted to lecturing him about what “an absolute scumbag your great-grandfather was, child, truly the spawn of *garbled dragon curses*."

Actually, all their conversations tend to end that way, but Lloyd doesn’t mind too much. It’s kind of like if his great-grandparents has just divorced like normal people, instead of being otherworldly, immortal god-like beings who went to war with each other.

He hasn’t been talking to her for that long — it’d taken a lot of finagling the means of reaching the First Realm from his uncle, for one, and then he’d had to make sure he could get back home, of course. The whole thing ended up being pointless anyways, since his great-grandmother ended up coming to visit him, because he’s the only family member she hasn’t considered barbecuing at some point, apparently. (Yet.)  

“—and you do look just like your father, back when he didn’t take after your thrice-cursed *garbled dragon cursing* of a great-grandfather,” she had said, inspecting him with her large eyes. “I was quite fond of him, you know. He was a true terror, as I’m sure you are. Or perhaps not, you have a sweeter look in your face. It’s the cheeks, I think, you’re not nearly as threatening as he ever looked.”

“Um, thank you,” Lloyd had awkwardly replied, as he’d had little to no reference point of whether or not she genuinely liked him at the time, and was being extra-cautious, because certain recent familial encounters had left him with the mindset that it was best to believe everyone related to him probably wanted to murder him.

Fortunately, his great-grandmother was not one of those types.

“I don’t know about the wings, little one,” she’d informed him as he’d dangled upside from her tail, eyeing him mournfully. “You seem to take too much after your mother’s side.”

Lloyd had been less than thrilled with that response, but he’d swallowed his disappointment the best he could.

“Now the teeth, though,” she’d said, her eyes gleaming. “Those, we can work with.”

That was how the fire-breathing had come to be in the first place — which, as you should note, was entirely his great-grandmother’s idea. She’d reasoned that since Lloyd not only appeared to have manifested most of his dragon characteristics in his mouth, but also had a direct connection to the element of fire, he might be able to both successfully breathe fire and survive the attempt.

“Wait, there’s a chance I wouldn’t survive?” Lloyd had asked, blinking.

“You’re exhaling fire through your little mortal throat, hatchling. Of course there’s a chance you wouldn’t survive. A very small one, mind you — I happen to like you a good deal, and it’d be a terrible shame if all I was left with in the world was the rest of your *garbled dragon cursing* family.”

She had also reasoned that since Lloyd seemed to have an excellent handle on both languages — even if Dragon did sound like butchered yowling in his accent, she bemoaned — perhaps there was a connection with the throat there. At any rate, they had both agreed that Lloyd would be far more likely to breathe fire from his throat than he would be sprouting wings anytime soon.

Lloyd had deliberately mentioned absolutely none of this to his team. If Kai ever learns that he’d been warned dying was an option and continued to try it anyways…

Well, it’s breathing fire. Lloyd’s staking his hopes on Kai being so impressed with how cool it is that he totally forgets about all about murdering his reckless little brother.

******************************

While his great-grandmother gives him all sorts of throat exercises he’s supposed to do — apparently the actual fire’s supposed to come from his chest, but the throat will take the worst of it — he doesn’t get the chance to actually test it out until a week or two later, when he’s walking home alone from the grocery late one night.

All he’s picked up is an extra-large bag of M&M’s and like, four things of cereal, so Lloyd’s in good spirits as he crosses one of the older alleyways. He’s also relaxed enough for the first time in about three months to let his guard down a bit, so it’s a real shame that he immediately gets jumped by thugs the second he does.

“Hands up, kid, nice and easy,” the biggest guy says, waving his gun at him. “We don’t want any trouble, just your money.”

Lloyd bites back a retort. Yeah, sure, they can have all fifty of his cents he’s got left. Lloyd’s a real billionaire here, in his training shorts and Zane’s old sweatshirt, who’s even teaching these guys how to pick targets—

“He said hands up, kid!” the second guy barks at him, his own gun leveling out somewhere wildly above Lloyd’s shoulder. “And drop the bags, too!”

That has Lloyd scowling. He spent the last of his junk food money on this, he’s not leaving it on the city streets, gross. He sighs, shifting his arms and beginning to call up his power, when an idea hits him. Lloyd’s mouth curves into a deliberate smirk.

“Hey kid, we said — hey, stop that creepy grinning, we’re pointing a gun at you—”

Lloyd just grins wider, opens his mouth, and breathes an explosion of streaming flame toward their faces.

If he were his father, Lloyd would call out something terribly impressive, like “may my hellfire vanquish you back to the eternal pit of misery you crawled out of, foolish scum” — but he’s not his father, so he’s been figuring he’ll end up saying something along the lines of “stop right there, sucker” because he was raised by a bunch of teenagers with the combined schooling level of mid-high school.

Unfortunately, all he ends up actually saying is a bunch of strangled screaming, because he’s currently forcing a miniature bonfire through his throat, and wow, he definitely did not calculate how much this was actually going to hurt—

It does the trick, at least. The thugs’ faces lose all their color faster than he can blink, and they jump back screaming in terror, dropping all their guns in their haste to escape.

Lloyd would be cackling like he hasn’t since he was about nine, but he’s too busy trying not die inhaling smoke through his scorched throat.

“Son of — hngh—”

Smoke is billowing out from between his teeth now, and Lloyd sucks in a strangled wheeze, his eyes tearing up as the smoke stings against them. He feels like he’s swallowed a blast from Kai, his throat hurts so bad, but it doesn’t feel deadly. He can already feel the buzz of green power doing it’s job, and the pathetic whining noises he’s making reassure him that his vocal chords are still there, even if it feels like he’s flambéed them.

“Worth it,” Lloyd croaks through his abused, raw throat, before collapsing on the street and nearly passing out.

******************************

The next morning is awful. If Lloyd hadn’t developed such a high pain tolerance as he has, he’d be in serious trouble right now.

Not that it makes it any better, he thinks to himself, trying not to whine as he accidentally swallows, his throat vengefully reminding him that he tried to charbroil it last night.

“Morning, Lloyd,” Cole says cheerfully. Lloyd gives him a weak smile in return, adding a little wave for flair, and hopes it’s enough.

“How would you like your eggs?” Zane asks him. Lloyd jerks a shoulder up in a shrug, trying to look as tired as he can. If he can convince them that he’s just exhausted, instead of slowly dying inside because he breathed fire through his throat last night—

“I want scrambled,” Jay says through a yawn, saving Lloyd from Zane’s quizzical gaze. “Make ‘em all scrambled, Zane, with that cheese you use.”

“A ‘please’ would be appreciated once in a while,” Zane mutters, but he’s already reaching for the fridge again.

Lloyd grits his teeth, trying desperately to ignore how much his mouth tastes like ash. Like, actual ash, which is disgusting. Lloyd’s never gonna be able to eat burnt marshmallows again, which is a true tragedy.

The price you pay for being a badass, Lloyd thinks to himself mournfully.

Kai comes in about then, still scrubbing at his eyes, yawning as he sits next to Lloyd. “Sleep alright?” he asks, words mangled through the yawn.

Lloyd nods, then tries to hide the wince that runs through him as his throat twinges. He’s apparently unsuccessful, because Kai narrows his eyes at him, suddenly looking much more awake.

“Hey, are you okay?” he says, sounding concerned. “Talk to me, bud."

Lloyd bites his lip. If Kai keeps asking, the others are gonna start looking over, and then that’ll be more suspicious. Maybe he can just tell him he’s got a cough? Yeah, he can do that. Just one small sentence, a few little words. He can handle that.

“I’m—ngh—”

Lloyd’s voices catches on the first word, squeaks like a broken recorder, and then coughs a burst of bright fire across the breakfast table.

A chorus of high-pitched screaming rings out across the breakfast room, Cole and Jay jumping back from the flames as Nya and Zane rush toward him, quickly putting out the fire that’s caught the wooden table. Kai’s dancing around Lloyd as he doubles over in hacking coughs, sounding two seconds from a panicked breakdown.

“—coughed up fire, that was fire, Lloyd what the FSM was that?!”

“M’a dragon,’member?” Lloyd wheezes, as he’s stared down by his family’s terrified faces. He coughs again, waving at the tiny puff of smoke that comes out, before giving them a shaky grin. “S’cool, right?”

He’s met with five blank stares.

“Oh dear,” Zane finally says, looking like he’s come to the conclusion that Lloyd is going to kill himself with this. Which is rude, Lloyd can’t be cool as heck if he’s dead.

“This is worse than the lightbulbs,” Cole says, faintly.

“Lloyd, how,” Nya breathes into her hands.

“Dude that’s sick!” Jay bursts out in excitement, immediately cementing his place as one of Lloyd’s favorite people ever. “You can breathe fire, what the heck!”

Kai shakes his head at him in awe, his voice reverent. “That’s so cool, that’s not eve—ennn oh my god he’s dying—!”

Kai’s excitement turns to a horrified shriek as Lloyd coughs up a mouthful of blood.

“S’okay,” Lloyd croaks, waving everyone off they crowd him, wiping at his mouth. “S’normal too. Throat’s just raw. It heals up after a bit.”

He’s met by five of the most unimpressed stares he’s seen all month.

“I’m making you a doctor’s appointment,” Zane sighs, tapping at his phone. “And you’re going over this with Sensei Wu.”

“And you’re not breathing fire anymore,” Cole scolds, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Without us,” Jay adds. Cole elbows him, and he scowls. “What? C’mon, this is super cool.”

“Jay,” Nya says, a warning in her voice.

Jay laughs nervously. “I mean, super dangerous, haha! Real, uh, really dangerous. You’re coughing up blood, that’s bad.”

Kai hovers by his shoulder, still looking torn between dreadful concern, overbearing overprotectiveness, and most importantly, an vicious kind of curiosity.

As Lloyd had hoped it would, curiosity wins out. “D’you think it’d work with me?” he finally asks him, a gleam in his eyes. “Since I can control fire, do you think I could breathe it too—”

“No,” Zane says, quickly.

“Absolutely not,” Nya says flatly. “Not a chance. Neither of you are going to try anything else with fire. If I catch you coughing up smoke, you’re both toast.”

Lloyd and Kai both nod dutifully.

“Of course,” Lloyd assures her, through a creaking rasp.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kai echoes.

******************************

Nya storms out of the monastery at one a.m. that night to find both Kai and Lloyd in the middle of the training field, half the dummies burning down and both sprawled out on the ground. Lloyd is still hacking smoke up, having been responsible for the flames on the right side. Kai is on his hands and knees, his face pale and sweaty, responsible for the fires smoldering on the left. In terms of breathing fire, he’s only been able to trigger his gag relax about seven times, but in terms of enthusiasm, he’s contributed to the blaze on the whole by boosting Lloyd’s flames by eighty percent.

Nya spends about forty-five minutes alternating between yelling at them and dousing them with twin jets of water from her hands. Neither Kai or Lloyd mind getting sprayed by that point, but the yelling definitely doesn’t do wonders for the headaches they’ve both got from smoke inhalation.

******************************

After that fiasco, Lloyd is officially banned from breathing fire, influencing anyone else to try and breathe fire, or even mention breathing fire.

Lloyd declares that this is a prejudiced offense against him being half-dragon.

“You are a prejudiced offense against the entire health world on the whole,” Zane glares at him, tying off the last of the bandages he’s been wrapping around his throat. Lloyd makes a face at him. The bandages are overkill, and Zane knows it — all the damage is on the inside, anyways.

Next to them Nya is still chewing out Kai, who’s steadily chugging at the glass of water Cole forced on him. “I don’t care if you think you’re fireproof, and I don’t care if you—” she stabs an accusatory finger at Lloyd. “Have special elemental powers that’ll heal you eventually. If I so much as see a spark of fire from either of you, anywhere near your mouth, I’m going to super-soak you with the illegal water gun Jay built last summer.”

Kai and Lloyd pale in unison. Kai speaks up hesitantly, “Wouldn’t it just be easier if you hit us with your powers—”

“No,” Nya hisses, her eyes flashing murder. “Because it’s making a point. It’s the water gun of shame.”

Kai and Lloyd exchange commiseratory glances.

Cole and Jay don’t say much until Nya and Zane have wandered from the room, at which point they surge forward, eyes gleaming.

“Tell me you got video of it,” Jay whispers.

Kai grins. “Duh. Wait ’til you see what he did to the balance beams.”

******************************

After that, unfortunately, Lloyd really does have to stop breathing fire. Mostly because he’d like to be able to speak again without doubling over in wheezing coughs, but also because Nya’s legitimately terrifying with her water gun.

Also because Kai’s too scared of Nya as well, so Lloyd’s lost his claim to a bad influence.

Ah well, Lloyd mopes to himself. It’s a nice card to have up his sleeve in a pinch, he guesses, but clearly it was never meant to be a natural thing. He’s just too human. (Or too Oni — maybe that’s influencing it? He’ll have to ask his great-grandmother, next time she goes off on another rant about them.)

The important point is, he has every intention of not doing it again. Every intention.

But then he visits his father in prison again, because his dad’s chatty like that now, apparently. Which isn’t a terribly bad thing on its own, because Mr. Self-Proclaimed (or was it Harumi-proclaimed?) Emperor Garmadon has at least mellowed out a bit since the whole “wreck half the city in a rage” thing. And Lloyd’s been called here in person to check out the new security measures they put up, so he does have a good reason.

No, the breaking point comes when Lloyd’s trying to leave in peace, and his terrible dad of a father decides to make some snarky comment about how “boringly quiet you are today”, like Lloyd’s supposed to be his entertainment, or something.

Normally Lloyd would just ignore it and storm off, but his throat’s been killing him this whole time, and the vein in the upper right corner of his forehead is throbbing just a little too much. So instead of leaving, he whirls on his father, eyes flashing as he growls. Garmadon’s teeth bare, prepared to snap at him, and Lloyd opens his mouth to snap right back—

And promptly breathes a campfire’s worth of bright flames at him instead.

Lloyd claps a hand over his mouth in horror as the flames blossom out against the glass barrier, before doubling over in ragged coughs, smoke streaming through his fingers. A clamoring of alarms goes off, and that’s the only warning Lloyd gets before the emergency sprinklers come on, soaking both him and his father. At least they’ll hide the brimming tears from the smoke in his eyes, Lloyd thinks miserably, watching as his gi soaks through.

Garmadon is dead silent. He stares at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. He closes his mouth, blinking twice, his jaw working. Then, finally— “That is undeniably unfair,” he growls. “She taught you how to do that? I’ve been begging her since I was six.”

Despite the intense agony his throat is in, Lloyd beams. “It’s so cool, right?” he says, his voice sounding like a malfunctioning blender. “Totally awesome. No idea why she wouldn’t teach you. Must suck to be—”

Lloyd doesn’t get to gloat much more than that, because he starts wheezing again and the security guards come drag him out “for his own safety”, but for the look on his dad’s face?

So worth it.

[the-delta-42]

Fallen

Based on This Post by @nerdasaurus1200

Fallen

Marinette scowled at the sky. Ever since Lila came back, everyone’s IQ had fallen to single digits, Max included. Alya had brushed Marinette’s concerns off a jealousy, but Marinette didn’t have any proof, aside from her own word and Adrien, who wanted to go with the high road approach.

Marinette inwardly snorted, Adrien had a heart of gold, but he seriously needed lessons on social skills. Marinette glanced down at the stub in her hand, if her parents found she had started smoking, they would flip. Marinette didn’t actually intend for smoking to become a habit, but another one of the class presidents had noticed she was stressed and given her a cigarette, it happened a few more time and it eventually stuck, Tikki always tutted and gave Marinette a disapproving look. Thankfully, no one came on to the roof to look for smokers, they always looked on the ground. Marinette stubbed the cigarette out and put it in a disused flower pot.

“Well, well, well,” Crooned a sickeningly sweet voice, making Marinette spin around, “what do I have here? Why, if it isn’t Marinette, breaking a school rule.”

Lila smirked smugly at Marinette, Marinette looked behind Lila and spotted Alix, Kim, Chloe and Sabrina.

“Can I help you?” asked Marinette, tiredly.

“You weren’t at lunch.” Said Lila, faux sweet voice lacing her words.

“Well, here I am,” Waved Marinette, “you can go now.”

“Oh, but, Marinette,” Said Lila, sweetly, “I don’t want to go.”

Marinette sighed, hauling herself to her feet, “Okay, but I don’t want to know what you’re doing up here.”

“But, Marinette,” Lila’s smirk went cold, “I want to talk to you.”

“How unfortunate, because I don’t want to talk to you.” Said Marinette, plainly.

Lila took a few steps closer, “I told Alya that I could help you start your fashion career, I told her I could introduce you to so many people.”

“I’m not interested in your lies, Lila,” Said Marinette, folding her arms, “your stories don’t work on me, it’ll only be a matter of time before everyone else cottons on.”

Alix went to advance toward Marinette, but Kim held his arm out.

“Let’s see how this ends.” Kim whispered his voice quiet.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lila grit out, fuming.

“It means, stop lying, once everything comes to light, the class, hell the school, will turn on you like a pack of dogs,” Said Marinette, “And believe me, they will tear you apart.”

Marinette stopped at the edge and looked across the City, for some reason, she felt oddly calm.

Lila let out a yell and charged at Marinette, her hands pushing Marinette’s back away from her, causing Marinette to topple over. Marinette let out a scream as she fell, abruptly cutting off as she hit the ground with a sickening crack-thud.

“Marinette!” Screamed Alix, as she ran past Lila and gawked over the edge of the roof.

Alix stood still for a moment, before she rushed back down the stairs, the others following after her, leaving Lila alone on the roof.

*/*

Adrien laughed as Nino imitated an elephant.

His father allowed him to have lunch at school, which gave him the opportunity to introduce Kagami to his other friends. Kagami had brought some of her classmates with her, Adrien presumed for moral support.

“Didn’t you say Marinette was going to be here?” Asked Kagami, looking around for the blue-eyed girl.

“Yeah, I think she’s caught up in something.” Said Adrien, making Alya snort.

“The girl is turning into a workaholic, one day she’s going to run herself into the ground.” Commented Alya, “She said someone wanted to speak with her and she’d join us as soon as she was done.”

Kagami hummed in response.

Alix suddenly burst into the courtyard.

“Lila just pushed Marinette off the roof.”

*/*

She was dead.

Lila could only stare at the body of the class representative that she had pushed off the roof. In hindsight, the push had been a bit much, she hadn’t meant to push her off the roof.

Lila could see her classmate slowly gather around the body, someone screamed and there were more than a few wails. Adrien looked up and made eye contact with Lila. She had never seen such hatred before and now she was witnessing it, all because Lila Rossi had murdered Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She didn’t think she could lie herself out of this one. She knew she couldn’t lie her way out of it when the class began hunting her down.

Lila started frantically looking for a way to get down without having to use the stairs she used to get up here. She spotted a fire escape, and ran for it, hastily rushing down the steps and into the alley that it let out into. Lila wasted no time in running home and hiding away in her room, she needed a way out of this mess without getting arrested.

*/*

They’d moved Marinette into an empty classroom. It had been an hour and the whole school had heard, and everyone was quiet when they were informed. Everyone was told that it was probably planned by Lila, as Kim, Alix and Sabrina had told the staff. The Art teacher had donated a sheet so her body could be covered. The Police and Ambulance were arriving, paramedics being taken to Marinette’s body.

An officer was questioning Marinette’s classmates when one of the Paramedics rushed in.

“We have to move her.” Said the Paramedic, gasping for air.

“Why?” Asked the Officer, “The Coroner’s van will be here in a minute.”

“She’s still alive, she’s being loaded into the Ambulance now.” The Paramedic then rushed out of the room, the Officer looking back at the class, before following her.

The classroom was silent, before Alya made a shuddery gasp.

“She’s alive.” Gasped Alya, her arms wrapped around Nino, “She’s still alive.”

“But for how much longer?” Came Adrien’s response, his tone dark.

No one wanted to give a thought to that possibility.

*/*

Tom and Sabine were in the middle of the lunch rush, when Police cars and an Ambulance arrived at the school across the road, one of their usual patrons entered, babbling about how someone had been pushed off the school roof.

The poor person left without collecting their change. Shortly afterwards, a Police Officer walked in, quietly asking to speak with them.

“I think you should sit down.” Said the Officer, as soon as they were somewhere private.

“Is something wrong?” Asked Tom, as he closed the door.

“I am afraid something has happened, concerning your daughter.” Answered the Officer.

“What’s wrong? Has she been arrested? Is she hurt?” Sabine threw a fast flurry of questions.

“No, she hasn’t been arrested,” Said the Officer, “at 13:47 today, one of her classmates had lured her up to the roof of her School and pushed her off. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the chances of your daughter dying is more likely than her survival.”

Neither spoke, before Sabine let out a shuddering gasp.

“Where is she?” Demanded Tom, his tone a mix of grief and rage.

*/*

The doctors were rushing around when the trolly came in, a doctor rushing over to them.

“Okay, what’ve we got?” Asked the Doctor, matching the pace of the paramedics and trolly.

“15-year-old female, Caucasian-Asian, was pushed off her schools’ roof.” A paramedic listed off, “The Police will want to question her if she wakes up.”

“When she wakes up.” Said the Doctor, looking down at the girl, “Anything else?”

“Severe trauma to the head and spine, possible punctured lung, her right arm is broken.” Came the response, “There’s also suspected internal bleeding, so there is a chance of there being other punctures.”

“Right,” Said the Doctor, before calling out, “Can someone prep her for surgery?”

*/*

By the time class had been released Marinette had been released from surgery, with Tom and Sabine sitting by her bedside.

“How is she?” Asked Alya, as she entered the room, Nino and Adrien trailing along behind her.

“They say she’s stable, but they don’t know if she’ll wake up or not.” Came Tom’s reply.

“Who did this?” Came Sabine’s quiet demand.

“Mrs. Cheng, I don’t think we’re allowed-” Sabine cut Adrien off mid-sentence.

“Who did this to my daughter?”

Everyone was quiet, before Alix piped up behind them.

“Lila pushed Marinette off the roof.” Said Alix, quietly pushing her way to the front.

“The girl with the lying disease?” Questioned Tom, as Adrien shifted slightly.

“Mr. Dupain, I don’t think that was a disease,” Said Adrien, “the only thing that would remotely match that is a compulsive lying disorder, which isn’t a disease.”

The room was silent, before Tom got up and muttered about how he needed to get outside. No one stopped him from walking out of the ward, while Sabine was gently stroking Marinette’s head.

*/*

Lila cowered under her desk in her room, she had heard someone knocking on the door to her home, Lila was desperately trying to think up something to get her out of this mess. She couldn’t fall back onto the lying disease, because there had been witnesses to Marinette’s murder and they all saw her push Marinette. She couldn’t claim self-defence, because Marinette was facing away from her. Lila was stuck in a corner, both figuratively and literally.

Lila stopped. She could say Marinette jumped and her push was actually her trying to save Marinette. Yes, that should work, it would take a few well-placed lies to get the class to believe her, but she might be able to get it to work.

Lila nodded to herself, she could work with this, and maybe, she could ruin Marinette as well.

There was a splintering sound as the front door was kicked in.

“Lila?” Came the voice of one of Paris’s heroes, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Lila clamped her hands over her mouth to prevent ant sound from escaping.

“Come on, Lila,” Whined Chat Noir, his claws scraping against a wall, “I only want to talk.”

Lila was breathing as quietly as possible, unwilling to remove her hands, lest she makes a noise, tears were streaming down her face. Lila’s door was kicked open and Chat Noir walked in.

“There you are.” Grinned Chat, as Cataclysm glowed in his hand.

Chat then rushed towards her, his cataclysm hand outstretched.

Lila woke with a gasp, sweat rolling down her body. She was in her bed; how did she get here? Then it all came crashing back to her. She pushed Marinette off the roof of the school and she planned on twisting it to make it seem Marinette was the aggressor.

Lila was drawn from her thoughts by the front door slamming shut.

“Lila!” Yelled her mother, making the girls heart sink.

“Y-yes, Mum?” called Lila, hoping her mother hadn’t already heard.

The sound of her mother stomping towards her room put a dull feeling of apprehension in her. Her door slammed open and her mother looked livid.

“What’s this I hear about you pushing someone off a roof?!” Demanded Lila’s mother.

*/*

“She’s lucky, I’ll say that much.” Said a Doctor, looking over Marinette’s file, “She’s going to need to rest to get the bones in her arm and leg to heal properly. Although, we’re going to want to keep an eye on her lungs for a while.”

“Why, was one of them punctured?” Asked Sabine, making the Doctor frown.

“Yes, but they’re just showing signs of smoking damage.” Said the Doctor, “It might be an idea to see if she has been smoking, just to be safe, since it could be smoke inhalation.”

The doctor finished up and left the room.

“Well, now we know why she was on the roof.” Said Sabine, looking over at her daughter, “Do you think we’ve been pushing her too hard?”

“I think it’s been a gradual thing, she started to struggle with things, and someone gave her a stress release.” Replied Tom, watching Marinette as she breathed in and out.

“We’ll have to talk to her about it when she wakes up.” Said Sabine, as Marinette shifted a little.

Both adults went silent as they watched Marinette wiggle around, before rolling over onto her side, her broken limbs resting on top of her non broken limbs. Marinette gave a little sigh and soft snores started coming from the bed.

“Well,” Said Sabine, her eyebrows raised, “at least we know she’s not in a coma.”

There was a flash and shutter sound at Tom took a picture.

*/*

A couple of weeks passed since Marinette woke up and was forced to come clean about her new habits, now she was sitting awkwardly, trying to take down notes from Ms. Bustier’s class. Her classmates tried to do it for her but stopped after Marinette made it clear she could manage. Marinette was avoiding Adrien’s gaze, she didn’t want to look at his smug face.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Marinette?” Asked Adrien, leaning towards Marinette, “It’s not to late to ask for help.”

“Bite me, Dracula.” Retorted Marinette, before swearing as she dropped her pen.

Ms. Bustier stopped and sighed.

“Adrien, please take Marinette’s notes for her, that’s the twenty-sixth time she dropped her pen.” Said Ms. Bustier, before continuing with the lesson.

Adrien looked beside himself, while Marinette pouted.

[cakers-2000]

How about a Celeste x Reader?

I hope you enjoy the outcome! I’m pretty happy with it 😁

~Gambler’s Blackjack~ (Celeste X Reader)

Word Count: 2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, are you finally awake (Y/N)?”

Your head was pounding. The pain equivalent to that of a thousand hammers simultaneously hitting your skull. You had to wince at the feeling. Your vision was somewhat blurry, you’d compare it to a slight fog. Despite this you could still make out what appeared to be hair. Hair in the form of two drill pigtails. You could recognize the voice clear as day. It could only belong to Celeste.

Though it took a few more seconds for your eyes to adjust back to normal you couldn’t find a trace of anything familiar. You couldn’t place where exactly you were, you could barely see in front of you.

The only light you could seem to find in the room was coming from Celeste herself. Or more so it was coming from directly in front of her, sitting in between her lips. While it did take some time for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room you could still see the red of Celeste’s eyes glowing in the dark. Normally you weren’t afraid of her, you were friends. You had been for years. But the darkness her eyes emitted mixed with the aura of the room around you made your stomach churn.

You weren’t too far away from each other, there was only but a small table in between you. The only light was being emitted from the cigar in her fingers, just bright enough for you to see the deck of cards laying face down on the surface in front of you. It was difficult to see the cigar in the almost black room. It seemed to be on the bigger side, surrounded by a fancy gold trim. There was no doubt that it was an expensive cigar, probably from a rather luxurious brand. But since when had she been a smoker?

Though your head was still pounding you sat yourself up straight ever so slowly and spoke as calmly as you could to her. “Celeste… What’s going on?”

A smile found its way to her lips and she removed the cigar. She leaned her elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her palm, head slightly tilted as she watched you struggle to comprehend the predicament you were in.

She took a drag on the cigar in her hand. Long and slow, you could hear her inhale. When she was satisfied with the drag she blew out the smoke in beautiful rings. They floated ever so gently in your direction, only separating into particles when they hit your face.

You tried to hold in your cough as you inhaled the smoke but you had unfortunately gotten too much in your lungs and took a few seconds to cough it out. Your coughing fit made her laugh. A sweet, sultry laugh that reverberated in your ears and bounced off the walls of the room around you.

“(Y/N) dear, do you recall what my Talent is?”

It took you a couple of seconds to remember, your head was still pounding, you were still trapped in a daze like state you could barely think straight. “It’s… Gambler or something right?”

There was a slight look of shock on her features but it quickly disappeared into a sweet smile. “I’m surprised you can remember.”

“Where are we right now? It just seems like you’re dodging my questions and-”

“Let’s call this place… purgatory.” There was a slight pur in her voice as she spoke to you and took another long drag on her cigar before letting it out once more in your face. Thankfully you expected it this time and quickly waved it away, slightly glaring as she was sent into fits of giggles.

“Purgatory?”

“We’re on the cusp of the living and non living world. The only way to escape is by playing a game with me~”

“A game?”

You were so confused. This wasn’t Celeste. You hardly recognized the girl in front of you. She placed her chin on her hands, cigar in between her fingers and slightly nodded.

“A game. The winner gets to leave, the loser… well… they get to meet an untimely fate.”

“Y-You mean death!?”

“Precisely.”

“No way! Why would I ever take part in a game like that!?” You were quick to shoot up out of your seat, fists pounding onto the table. “I’m not staying here any longer!” Your back turned to her and you attempted to walk forward, hoping and pleading that the exit was somewhere close by. There was a small sigh behind you followed by the sound of her inhaling once again with the cigar. She slowly blew out the smoke, lingering for a few seconds in silence before answering your frustration.

“You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

You were quick to turn back to her. She was quick to cross her legs and place her hand on her knee, a small smirk spreading across her features. “What?”

“If you try to leave or decide that you don’t want to play, you’ll only guarantee your end.”

You weren’t sure what she was talking about. Should you even believe her at all? She could be lying, she didn’t have any type of weapon to strike you down nor was there anyone else in the room with you… right?

As if able to read your mind she leaned forward, head in her hand. “But of course if you don’t believe me the door’s to your left.”

Strangely, you did believe her. Something in your gut told you to stay far away from the exit. With reluctance you sat back down in your chair and crossed your arms over your chest. “Fine. What are we playing?”

“That’s the spirit~” Her free hand rested on top of the deck of cards and she drummed her fingers on the cool material. “We’re playing Blackjack. You do know how it works correct?”

You thought for a minute, racking your brain to remember all of the card games you had learned from Celeste herself. “You have to add up your cards to reach 21, right?”

A sweet laugh escaped her, it was like music to your ears. But you shook that thought away. You couldn’t think that way about her anymore. She was forcing you to play with your lives. This wasn’t right. Her hand fell to cover her lips, stifling her laughs. “Correct.”

“So then this is a game based entirely on luck?”

“Correct.”

“Why Blackjack?”

She gave you a quizzical look and you elaborated. “Well you’re talent is gambling, why would you choose a game based entirely on luck? You could win easily with any other card game.”

“Think about it (Y/N). A gambler has to have a good amount of luck to win, don’t they?”

You chose not to answer. Truthfully that’s what you feared. This was a game based entirely on luck. Who’s to say that wasn’t a part of her Talent? Who’s to say her luck wouldn’t outshine your own. Letting out a shaky sigh you tried to steel your nerves and leaned yourself back on your chair, watching her take another drag on the cigar. “What are we waiting for, let’s go.”

She let out one last puff and allowed a smirk to creep onto her lips. “Wonderful. I’ll be dealer.”

She placed the cigar back in between her lips and grasped for the top two cards of the deck, placing one face down and another face up in front of you before doing the same for herself. You were starting with a simple 1 while she started with a 3.

“My it seems you’re luck is already greater than mine isn’t it (Y/N)~”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up. Hell for all you knew this entire set up could be rigged against you. Your demise could be right on the horizon. With shaky hands you flipped the card in front of you to reveal a 2.

She hummed in approval and flipped her own card, letting out a dainty sigh at the number though it was muffled by the cigar in her mouth. “Oh my, a 2. That brings me up to 5.”

Your hands were shaking so bad you could hardly move them. You were threatening to hold back your tears. You couldn’t think of any way to escape your predicament. You were going to be forced to sit here until one of you won and the other perished. Why was she doing this to you? Your voice shook as you stared at the cards in front of you and finally mumbled a quiet, “Hit me.”

“With pleasure.”

She grabbed a card from the pile and flipped it to reveal a 7. With caution you told her once more, “Hit me.”

Her dainty fingers slid across the cool material, the smile never wavering from her lips as she flipped another card for you. An 8. 18. You were already so close to 21. Should you risk it and go for even closer to 21? But if you went over that was it, lights out. Should you stay and hope, plead and beg a higher power that she lost.

What were you saying. You didn’t want her to lose. You didn’t want either of you to lose. She was your friend. You had both been so close. You didn’t want either of you to perish. You couldn’t place your trust in some higher power. You had been put in this situation, no higher power had decided to help you out of it. You had to do this by yourself.

“Celeste why don’t we just stop this? Please?”

“Oh~” There was an almost purring sound coming from her throat as she spoke to you. She leaned her face closer to your own and spoke with an almost teasing tone in her voice. “Are you afraid you’ll lose kitten?”

“K-Kitten!?” Your cheeks flared at the nickname and you leaned back in your seat, trying to get your face further from her own out of sheer embarrassment. “I-I’m not afraid of losing! I just don’t see what you gain out of this! I mean… I thought we were friends Celeste.”

“We are friends dear,” Her hand fell to your cheek, caressing your face as she spoke in a soothing manner to you. “But just like a romantic relationship, friends need a way to spice up their relationship don’t they?”

“But not by Murder! I thought you cared about me!”

She let out another sigh and grabbed instead for your hand that was trying to push her away. “I do care. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! None of this makes any sense!”

You were almost panicking as you screamed at her. You were so frantic. So exasperated. So scared. You didn’t want to die, not yet.

At seeing your panicked state she used her other hand to hold your head, a reassuring smile on her face though it did nothing for your frazzled nerves. “It’ll all make sense when it’s over.”

You steadied your breathing and she slowly moved her hand away from your face. She finally took her turn, hand holding reluctantly onto her own card before flipping it over, slowly revealing a 5.

She piled it with her 3 and 2 before letting out a small sigh. “Oh my, already at 10.”

A small laugh escaped her and she drew another card. She was quick to flick her wrist upwards. The card made a clean slice on the cigar. You watched as the ash of the cigar sprinkled down onto the surface of the table into a neat pile.

Your eyes were slightly widened at the pure actions she made. She was so calm, so confident that she could win. You were in awe. She rested the card down onto the others and let out an almost inaudible gasp. An 8.

“That makes…”

“18. We’re tied.” Your tone was snarky, your hopes for winning had fallen greatly and you just wanted to escape and go home.

She laughed, slightly covering her lips with her hand before taking a drag on her cigar and blowing out the smoke in a beautiful heart shape. “It appears I have no choice but to draw again.”

She seemed hesitant to grab from the cards but clutched onto one tightly and flipped it over with a loud thud sound.

It was a King. A 10.

“N-No… I… I lost?”

The cigar slowly fell from her lips out of shock and hit the table. Once it hit the surface the light extinguished and you were engulfed in darkness. It was nerve racking, not able to see a thing in front of you. She seemed to regain her composure and grabbed for the cigar. Your eyes could barely see but you could make out her form moving in the dark.

The cigar was placed directly between your lips, you didn’t dare move. Were you going to die now? Was this it?

With a flick you could see light, seeming to be coming from a lighter. Another cigar had been placed in Celeste’s mouth, being held up with a beautiful black holder with gorgeous and intricate designs covering the handle. She brought her face closer to yours, the cigar head touching hers until the one between your lips lit up in beautiful flames. A smirk fell to her lips as she sat herself backwards, leaning on the chair.

“Congratulations dear, I guess your luck was greater than my own.

“Celeste…”

“Which means my time has come.”

She slowly sat herself up but you spit out the cigar in your mouth and reached for her. Your hands were desperate and you clutched onto her sleeve tightly. “No, please, no one has to die. J-Just say you were playing a joke. Please.”

She smiled at you, a warm and inviting smile and brought her face closer to your own. “I can’t dear. It has to be done.”

“Then why did you do this Celeste? I just can’t wrap my head around it!”

You were crying, sobs racking your entire body. She grabbed onto your face with her hand, cupping your cheeks in her palm and smiled warmly at you before placing a sweet kiss to your lips. You didn’t want to kiss her back. You were so angry and upset, but you couldn’t help yourself. Even after what she had done to you, you still loved her.

She pulled away from you, keeping her mouth inches from your own before letting out a dainty giggle.

“The answer is simple (Y/N). If I can’t have you, nobody can~”

[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 5 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Wanted Posters

I know, I know, two updates in one day but the encouragement I’ve been receiving has given me WRITER SUPERPOWERS so I decided that if I finished another chapter today that I’d upload it for you darlings! I’m also uploading this on Wattpad too if any of you are interested! Love you all and please enjoy!

Warnings - lack of gifs, I couldn’t find any for this part I’M SO SAWRY :’(

♡♡♡ 

Tom’s eyes watered from the smoke as he slowly forced himself up into a sitting position. His lungs screamed from the new chemicals being introduced to them, causing him to cough like a smoker. Once the clouds of smoke finally cleared and his vision finally returned to him, he looked to see if the two kids were okay. 

...it was the exact opposite.

Amidst the burning dried grass, Y/n and Sonic lay facing each other, unconscious. They had some soot and chemicals from the explosion still on their skin and Y/n had dirt in her hair, their mouths slightly open and limbs strewn about in unnatural angles. Tom’s heart stopped beating as he ran over to his daughter, pulling her head into his lip.

“Y/n,” he shook her body, checking her pulse. It was weak, but it was there. He checked Sonic’s next. It was the same. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes as he brushed the hair out of his daughter’s face. Sure, they had had some rough times… but she was his kid. “Come on, you guys are alright… get up.” For once in his life, his voice sounded weak and desperate. He didn’t want these kids to die! Who would? He quickly scooped up Y/n into his arms, hating the way that her body hung limply to the sides. 

“...you’re going to be okay.”

♡♡♡

It had taken quite a lot of convincing for Tom to be able to make it past the foyer of his sister-in-law’s house, even with Maddie trying to convince her. Once the poor unconscious Sonic was revealed from underneath the sheet Tom had been hiding him under, Maddie’s skepticism only grew. The two watched as her sister fell onto the floor, unconscious. 

“Where’s Y/n?” She asked in concern.

“In the car…” Tom’s expression fell to rock bottom. “She’s in no better condition.” 

His words kicked Maddie into gear as she burst out the door in search for her daughter, leaving Tom standing there with Sonic. She ran out to the truck as fast as she could, having to hold back a scream once she realized that the top was missing. There Y/n was, just as Tom had said, lying down in the backseat with her hair in a mess and her clothes covered in dirt. Her hands had cuts and bruises on them and while she could still see the rise and fall of her stomach, they came in very short, very rapid breaths. Maddie quickly picked her daughter up and hugged her to her chest, begging herself not to cry. 

“Hey there, sweetie,” she whispered to the body as she picked her up bridal style and began to carry her back into the house. “You’re going to be just fine… I promise.”

About a half hour later, Maddie finally returned from upstairs where she had tended to Y/n’s wounds and set her up in her bed to rest. Ozzy was in there keeping watch over her while her sister remained tied to a chair in the living room. Tom and Jojo stood over Sonic’s unconscious body as he lay as stiff as a board on the kitchen island. As Maddie came over carrying her vet kit, she gently pushed her husband aside and did her best not to let her inner emotions of disgust show. 

“Is he going to be okay? Can you help him?” Tom asked worriedly, trying to do his best to keep his cool in front of his niece. Maddie shot him an annoyed side glance and sighed.

“Tom, I don’t even know what I’m looking at right now-”

“He’s a hedgehog,” Tom frets. “Or at least that’s what he says.”

“He talks?” Maddie’s eyebrows raised as she began to get ready to test his pulse. Tom nodded. 

“He never seems to shut up. He’s grown really fond of Y/n.” The last part came out a little more bitter than he had intended, but it was just his good father nature to be snippy about boys. Maddie slowly processed the information as she pressed her fingers against Sonic’s wrist, glancing at her watch. As soon as she felt the blood pumping through his veins, her eyes widened.

“H-his pulse is insanely fast,” she muttered.

“Maybe that’s normal for him, he is sort of a speed demon,” Tom tried to reason. She nodded slightly and then proceeded to feel about his body for any broken limbs or torn ligaments. Once she was decently satisfied with that, she began to take off his tattered shoes, revealing socks with holes in them that were doing their best to protect his adorable hedgehog feet. Jojo grabbed a hold of one of the shoes and disappeared into another room while Maddie turned back to her husband.

“I don’t feel any broken bones. I think he’ll be fine, he’s just a little beat up. Poor little guy has some pretty rough feet,” she sighed. Tom finally exhaled for the second time that day, the first being after he found out Y/n was going to be okay. He took the nail he had been chewing on out of his mouth and sighed.

“Wait, don’t you have any of those smelling salts for pets?” He asked hopefully, eyes wide. Maddie furrowed her brows and did her best to accept her husband’s slight stupidity.

“I have HUMAN smelling salts,” she chuckled. He nodded rapidly, a sign that she should grab them. The second that she snapped the smelling salt and held it up to the blue hedgehog’s nose, his dreamy green eyes popped open. 

“Gotta go fast!” Sonic yelled, leaping off of the counter and zipping around the room so fast that you could barely even see him. Maddie’s eyes widened in horror as Tom stared in awe, amazed at how the little guy could come out of this with barely a scratch. Sonic finally came to a stop to stand on the counter and smiled at the two.

“Oh, hey Pretzel Lady!” Maddie gave him a small wave, the horror beginning to show in her eyes as she stared at him. Sonic opened his mouth to continue when he suddenly froze, counting the heads in the room. There was a Donut Lord… but someone was missing. The gears quickly clicked in his head as he remembered the explosion.

“Where’s Y/n?” He asked, panic beginning to rise as his green eyes looked around frantically for the girl he was growing very attracted to. Tom quickly held up his hands to help calm him down.

“Don’t worry, she’s safe. Maddie took care of her, she’s just resting upstairs.”

“She’s okay? Thank God,” Sonic breathed a sigh of relief. Maddie couldn’t help but smile at how concerned this creature was for her daughter. It was heartwarming to see someone else hold such a deep regard for her than she and Tom did. But the smile soon faded as she grabbed onto Tom’s sleeve and tugged on it forcefully.

“Uh, Tom, sweetie, can I talk to you for a moment? Without the, um, alien hedgehog?” Tom nodded slowly, following her out of the room. She closed the white sliding doors behind her, leaving Sonic alone in the kitchen. He let out a soft groan as the pain in his head slowly came back, still throbbing with every pulse. He hoped that Y/n was doing okay. 

Sonic’s eyes slowly made their way towards the stairwell. 

Upstairs, she said?

♡♡♡

Buried underneath a sea of covers lay a very beat up teenage girl. She had bandages wrapped around her arms and her hair had been brushed out of her face in order for her mother to clean the dirt off of her skin. Her eyes remained closed as her mouth was parted slightly, the steady rise and fall of her chest barely seen from the comforter she was under. The metal box that had been resting beside her in the truck was resting on the nightstand next to her, practically staring at her while she slept.

Y/n was having the strangest dream. 

She was much shorter than she remembered being, and she seemed a lot more hairy than usual. She’d have to buy a new razor. And she was with someone, but it was so blurry that all she could see was the color blue. Green was all that she could see for miles, filled with amazingly exotic waters and plantations and-

Wait. What was that noise? Y/n strained her ears as she heard that eerily familiar tune once again. It was the singing she had heard in the car. It was back.

Ah~, ah~. High and low, then high and low again.

She twirled around, e/c eyes searching for the source, but everything was so blurry that she couldn’t see. Like a camera that simply refused to focus. She stumbled around, listening to the song. It was beautifully mysterious, and she felt like… like it was meant for her to hear. Like it was trying to tell her something. It contained that same feeling she felt whenever she looked at Sonic - like she had heard it, seen it all before. 

But where?

Y/n woke up with a start, gasping for air as she sat up in bed. A thin layer of sweat coated her forehead as she moved the loose strands of hair out of her eyes. Her pulse began to rise as she looked around the room, recognizing it as her mother’s room from her aunt’s house. Her e/c eyes closed as she tried to steady her breathing. What was that all about? 

Ah~, ah~.

She gulped. There it was again. The music that only she could hear, it seemed. But even though she wanted to be afraid or worried about it, the idea only seemed to draw her in with curiosity. Even though she tried to tell herself not to, her gaze slowly drifted from the sheets over to the box sitting on the nightstand. The song sang softly to her, a little quieter now that it had gotten her attention, like a shy child. But still it called. 

Y/n slowly moved the blankets aside and swung her legs off the side of the bed. Her socked feet gently tapped the floor, creaking in uneasiness as they hadn’t been used in a couple hours. Her curious e/c orbs watched the little box closely, head tilting slightly to the side as she listened to it sing. Did she dare? She never did promise not to touch the vials or inspect them closer, so it wouldn’t do any harm to take one more peek without Sonic or Tom… right? 

Y/n very cautiously reached her hand out to the box, gently wrapping her bandaged hand around its cold surface and lifting it over to her lap. The singing quieted down even more as she flipped open the lid. Interesting, she thought. How hadn’t she noticed that the vials glowed in the dark before? Maybe because it had been in the day when they found them, she figured. And it was dark in the room because of the blackout curtains on the window. 

She lifted out Sonic’s vial, the bright yellow one and held it up to her eyes. It really did look like nothing but pee, so what was it? Her eyes scanned over the label once more, searching for anything that didn’t feel out of place. There had to be something here she was mis-

Oh. Oh, wait. 

Sonic’s vial wasn’t singing. Her brows furrowed in confusion. But… both of them had been singing, right? At least, something in the box had been singing. She held it to her ear and waited for what seemed like forever for the mystical tune to come floating out of it like magic.

Silence.

Huh. That was weird. She carefully set Sonic’s vial back into its rightful spot next to hers, watching as the liquid sloshed around in the tiny glass. Well, there was only one other thing left in the box. Her vial. Y/n bit her lip as she raised her own vial out of the box, eyes wide open as she watched the icy blue liquid glitter in the darkness. She twirled the vial around in her hands for a moment, inspecting every inch of it as she grew accustomed to holding it. But what was it for? 

She flipped the vial back over to the label on the back. Emergency reversal… emergency reversal. Why would there be something needed to be reversed? Was it for her? Y/n spent what felt like hours just sitting there, wracking her brain for an answer to the seemingly impossible question as to why these vials were here. And then it finally clicked into place.

Had someone… done something to her? To Sonic? Something that they didn’t know about? 

I mean, it would explain a couple of things. Maybe that was the reason why she and Sonic felt such a strong connection to one another and they only met a couple days ago. Maybe that was why Y/n had amnesia, a case that no one could solve. The dream that she just had… maybe it meant something. But who would have done this? Did she and Sonic know each other before? But how could that have been possible? She was a human and he was… Sonic! He was a hedgehog, for crying out loud! Unless…

She wasn’t always a human.

Dear lord, even the idea sounded insane. What else would she have been? A slug? A cat? But why else would they have their names on these vials? How could Dr. Robotnik had known about them beforehand when he didn’t even know their names? Was that why Robotnik had gotten all weird once she had told him her name?

But then again… why would Dr. Robotnik, of all people, have this? It made no sense. But if the label was telling the truth, then maybe whatever the contents of this vial were… perhaps it held the answers she had been looking for.

Ah~, ah~. The singing… was coming from her vial.

Well… only one way to find out if she was right.

Her fingers slowly found their way to the cork, removing it with a satisfying little pop. It didn’t smell like anything, didn’t look like it would taste like anything. It just stared at her from its home, waiting for her. Y/n’s heart pounded against her chest as she lifted the vial closer to her face. She needed answers. She needed to know.

The vial met her lips, and she drank. 

♡ a.a.

[daughterofanarcissistwoman]

So how do you know if your mom was a narcissist?

Here are the some of the signs.

She’s the center of the universe and everything in your family revolves around what she wants. My mom decided everything— what clothes we would wear, who we could be friends with, what activities we would participate in, what we should enjoy doing, eating, reading, watching on TV, and on and on. She controlled the purse strings despite not earning any money or working outside the home, and she was a real tight wad.

You felt invisible. In my family, both of my narcissistic parents saw their children as clones of themselves or their spouse. Our dreams, wants and needs were not recognized or validated. In order to be loved, we had to do and like everything that our same gender parent did or liked or recommended, because their narrative was that we were exactly like them. To this day, the stories that our parents tell about our childhood doesn’t sound at all familiar. For example, for years my mother told a story about how I wanted a horse when I was a girl. I never wanted a horse. I was afraid of horses and I was allergic. In fact, it was my mother who proposed that I should get a little pony several times. I wasn’t interested. I wanted an aquarium with seahorses like a friend of mine had. I even researched the care of seahorses and picked out their names—Napoleon and Josephine. After months of talking about an aquarium, my dad got me a small aquarium with goldfish— which was fine! Because I never wanted horses. And of all the stories she could have told about my childhood, I never understood why my mom was so fixated on my wanting horses, but she told this story at least once a year — always with me in the room. I denied it every time— and every time she insisted it was true. When she was in her 80s, and dying, she even told her hospice nurses that I always wanted a horse. I felt erased, for lack of a better word, as if I never existed, and this imaginary child who always wanted a horse existed in my place.

She doesn’t listen to you. I am quiet. I didn’t notice until I was an adult that my parents dominated conversations. I began to realize that was probably why I am so quiet. They talked for hours, without letting anyone get a word in, and I am not exaggerating. I timed it once -- over three hours with my husband and me just nodding our heads. It would have gone on longer if I hadn’t cut them off. This was at a time when I had some major things going on in my life, and they were the kinds of things family talked about. It was this that led me on a quest to find out why my parents weren’t interested in anything that happened to me—good or bad. We couldn’t talk about things that mattered, because if it didn’t involve them, it didn’t matter. I was used to this as a child, but when I became a parent, their lack of interest in my life hurt. I realized just how dysfunctional and devastatingly empty my relationship with my parents actually was, compared to my relationship with my children and my husband’s relationship with his parents.

She didn’t respect boundaries. My mom went through my stuff, used my things, kept them, ruined them, and gave my things away to other people without asking me. She also volunteered me for things I didn’t want to do. For example, she gave my beloved collection of Dr. Seuss books to my cousin when I was a little girl. When I was twelve, she volunteered me to take care of a neighbor boy for the summer without asking me. Worse, she arranged it so that this boy’s mother would pay her, and I never saw a cent of the money I made babysitting. This was a forty hour a week commitment! When I got married, my husband and I left our wedding gifts at my parent’s house while we were on our honeymoon. When we got back, I learned that she had unwrapped everything, looked, then rewrapped our gifts so I wouldn’t know. But she just couldn’t contain herself and had to brag about her cleverness in rewrapping the gifts afterwards. It was a big joke to her. To this day, I don’t know if she kept some of our gifts for herself or not— but I assume she did. My parents moved out of state after we had been married several years. When they moved away, they expected to be able to visit and stay at our house indefinitely— which ended up being months sometimes. Often my mother took objects from our home when she left. I would only realize later that she had taken these items when I went to visit her in her home, and saw my bowl, windchimes, books, family pictures, etc. Occasionally, she took my things and gave them to my brother.

Gaslighting. Though she admitted to opening my wedding gifts at the time, years later she totally denied it and said I was making it up. I must have imagined it, she said. She would never do such a thing. She also never admitted to taking things from me. She insisted I told her she could borrow these things. I probably would have let her borrow them if she had asked, but she didn’t. Much of my childhood has been misremembered or imagined according to both of my parents. I have brought up some of the events on this list over the years, but they only denied everything. In most cases. I’ve let it go, because it’s a waste of time. They won’t admit anything. They get offended and accuse me of imagining it.

She couldn’t control her temper. My mother took offense easily and you never knew what might set her off. Her temper tantrums were monumental and legendary within our family. When she flew into a rage, it was scary. She would scream, swear, slam doors, mock you, and call you names. There are too many to recount here, but one of my earliest memories is of her throwing food at my dad and him ducking to avoid being hit. She also had total meltdowns in public with onlookers.

She criticized you constantly. My mom often told me that I was ugly, sassy and whiney, and that I was stupid. If I cried during the verbal abuse, she would mimic my crying and tell me how ugly I was when I cried, or she threatened to really give me something to cry about. When I was little, I didn’t get regular baths—because it is a parent’s job to bathe their children or to teach them that bathing is required—which didn’t happen in my case. She often told me that I stunk. She said she wished she never had me. She wished I was a boy. She compared me to my brother, my cousins and her friend’s children, and I always came up short in some way. Even after I became an adult, the criticism continued. She would notice that I was getting wrinkles or that I had put on a few pounds, or that the color I was wearing made my skin sallow. When I was an adult, her criticism was always couched in what she thought of as helpful advice, but it was meant to hurt.

You were neglected. In my case, the neglect was subtle. We usually had clean clothes to wear and were fed—not nutritious foods, but we weren’t starving. We weren’t poor, but I remember eating crackers for breakfast because there was nothing else to eat. It wasn’t unusual to run out of food and toothpaste. I often went to school hungry. My dad made a good income, so it wasn’t because they couldn’t afford food. It was because buying food wasn’t as much of a priority as buying alcohol and cigarettes. Where we lived you could only buy alcohol at the liquor store and it closed early on Fridays. My parents made a weekly trip to the liquor store to stock up on the booze on Fridays because that was my dad’s payday—and it was always a rush to get there before 5pm. A grocery store was in that same strip mall. As an adult it is hard for me to understand why we often ran out of cereal midweek, or toothpaste, but never gin or vodka. We had a second car and Mom didn’t work outside the home. The grocery store was within walking distance. Also, our parents left my brother and me home alone as young as eight and three while they went out drinking. Three is the earliest I remember, but they might have left us home alone younger if we were asleep, for all I know.

You felt unsafe or responsible for your own safety. Something I will never forget is watching my mother vacuum the carpet, moving a chair and finding a burn hole in the carpet about the size of a dinner plate underneath the chair, with a cigarette butt in the middle of it. Why the chair didn’t catch on fire and burn the house down was a mystery, but it apparently burnt itself out. My dad was a three pack a day chain smoker and it was clear that he fell asleep while drinking with a cigarette in his hand at some point during the previous week. Beyond that, there were too numerous to count times that my dad drove us while drunk and times he abandoned the family to go drinking. One time in particular, I remember being with a friend at a fair at closing time. We were about ten, and too young to be left alone at a fair at night. Dad had dropped us off and was supposed to pick us up. A security guard tried to kick us out and finally tracked Dad down at a nearby bar after I suggested he might be there. This isn’t a “mom” story, but it could have been, because moms who are narcissists can be equally neglectful, putting their children in danger, which begs the question --- Since my mother knew my dad was an alcoholic, why did she allow him to take two little girls to the fair, knowing that he would disappear into a bar somewhere while we hit the tilt-o-whirl? Remember SHE was the one who decided everything that happened in our family. If it was that obvious to me where he went when I was only ten, shouldn’t it have been obvious to my mom that he would spend hours in a bar, and then drive us home while intoxicated?

You felt unloved. My mom never told me she loved me until I was an adult and she overheard my mother-in-law telling me she loved me. Then— if my parents happened to be around when my in-laws were around, she would say she loved me in front of my in-laws, as we said good-bye. But she never said it when we were alone— and not ever when I was a child. She didn’t hug me, read to me, play with me, or cuddle with me when I was little. Her “loving” was conditional on having an audience.

You received no encouragement of any kind. My behavior was largely ignored—good or bad. I don’t recall ever being noticed for a job well done, good grades, winning a spelling bee, doing well at a piano recital, or anything positive. Mostly, I was left unsupervised. By the time I was a teenager, I started becoming promiscuous, drinking alcohol and taking drugs. I began stealing from stores. I gave up trying to please my parents, because none of the good things I ever did got any recognition. Not that I could have articulated it that way as a child, but looking back, I know that’s how I felt. Unfortunately, none of the bad things I did were noticed either.

You were made to feel like a burden. Everything I ever wanted was too expensive. My clothes and school supplies were too expensive; my shoes were too expensive; going anywhere was too expensive. My glasses were too expensive. Medical and dental care was too expensive. Because I heard this so often, one time I commented to my mother, that if she and Dad didn’t buy alcohol and cigarettes all the time, they could probably afford some of these other necessities our family needed. I was nine, and I was truly trying to be helpful, thinking that maybe they had not thought of this. She slapped my face.

You witnessed cruelty. We had a little dog, a mutt, and when we moved away, we had to leave our dog with my uncle. A few weeks later, after we got settled in our new home, my uncle sent our dog to us by train— which took about a week. But the entire time the dog was away from us was about six weeks beginning to end. Within the first week of the dog coming to us in our new home, she peed on the carpet. To be sure, it is frustrating when an animal pees on your carpet, but this dog was really stressed after spending so much time in a different home with my uncle, and then traveling across the country alone by train to a new home. I watched my mother literally throw our dog about ten feet outside onto a cement patio while screaming, “Your days are numbered, little bitch!” The dog limped around the rest of that night. The next day, our dog was put down. Mom told us the dog had become sick and the vet recommended putting her down. I never believed my mom, because of what I saw. We had several cats disappear over the years too. They always “ran off” while we were in school. The one cat my mother “loved” was left to fend off raccoons and wild animals outside during the winter, while my parents traveled for months at a time after retirement. They basically abandoned it. If I could have caught the cat, I would have taken it in. I tried but it was scared and hiding somewhere.

She lied. To make herself (and the rest of the family) look good, she told her friends lies about us. For example, she told them I was a concert pianist. She told them I had a good career and was management level. She told them my son was gifted and that he got a scholarship to a competitive university— “a full ride!” She used to keep this piece of pottery that she bought on her windowsill, and she told them that I made it. There was always just enough truth to whatever lie she told that it could seem plausible to others— if they didn’t think too hard or look too closely. For example, I did play the piano as a child but wasn’t a concert pianist. My son did go to college but didn’t get a scholarship and he wasn’t a genius. I did take an art class and learned how to use a kiln, but not how to throw pots. I worked part-time. I wasn’t in management. The lies were endless. I didn’t even know about some of these lies until after she died.

More lies. She told a bunch of weird little lies that had no point, such as the horse story, but also being able to get from point A to point B in record time—which was impossible unless she took a helicopter. When presented with facts, she would become enraged. The only reason I used this lie as an example was because it was so easy to prove wrong, and it was so ridiculous and pointless. Showing her the facts in black and white led to a three-hour tirade and meltdown.

Everyone loves her. One of the more frustrating things about having narcissistic parents is that they are the most charming people— in public. Most everyone loved my parents, especially my mother. They had many friends and threw many parties. But the friendships were all mostly superficial. A normal friendship, for them, would begin with them being impressed with someone who had more money, more success, more status, intelligence, humor and creativity. . . than they, and that person could do no wrong. This was Mom’s infatuation phase. Eventually the bubble burst. Then the ugly phase began, which entailed vicious gossip and complaints behind their backs, while Dad continued to enjoy their company and drinking with them. This second phase sometimes lasted decades. A few of their friends “ghosted” them over the years. They just disappeared never to be heard from again. Mom would imagine all these wild, elaborate stories about what might have happened to them. More than once, she was certain different friends must have died in plane crashes. But that wasn’t the case, because I Googled them and it turned out they were still around. Knowing how my parents were, I am sure that some people caught on that she was a pathological liar, and a gossip with with a really bad temper, and that he had a drinking problem, or that they were both the most self-absorbed people anyone could ever meet. The bigger surprise to me is that most of their friends remained true to the end, and never knew how much my mother couldn’t stand them.

https://www.quora.com/How-do-you-know-if-your-mother-is-a-narcissist/answers/174878844?ch=10&share=c2fb4810&srid=C7yPi

[omnivorousshipper]

Finally Friday!!! It’s a little early but how bout a sick fic with Luke finding out Deckard has a terminal illness? Thanks!!

Never too early friend! Hell, I as so excited, I could barely sleep! And omg, just a warning now, this won’t be a death fic, but I will try to make it angsty 😉

Knocking on Deckard Shaw’s apartment door for the third time, Luke could feel his patience dwindling.

He and the Toretto crew were back in London, tracking down a dangerous international criminal. They had tried calling up Deckard to ask him for help, but the Brit hadn’t answered any of them. Pissed off, Luke declared that he would go check on the Brit and bring him back, kicking and screaming if he had to

“Breaking down doors is illegal if I don’t have a warrant,” Luke mutters to himself, glaring at the door. Ramsey had checked God’s Eye and told him that Deckard hadn’t been spotted outside of his apartment in two weeks. He should be home

About to knock on the door again, it flung open to reveal a glaring Hattie

“Would you knock it off!” She hisses at him, teeth bared.

Luke simply blinked down at her. Normally, he might have been intimidated by her, but when her hair was sticking up, sleep lines were across her face, and she was wearing Godzilla themed pajamas, well. She wasn’t really intimidating

“Where’s your brother? I want to talk to him.”

“No. Fuck off.”

Luke’s just barely able to kick his leg out and stop the door from closing with his foot. Hattie opens it back up and looks like she wants to shoot him

“Look, I don’t know what your problem or your brother’s is, but I just want to ask him for his help.”

“The answer is no. He won’t be able to. Now, go away.”

“I think I want to hear him say it.” Luke says dryly. “What is your problem, Hattie? Just let me talk to him.”

Hattie’s glaring up at him, but then they both hear a shuffling noise from inside. Looking away from Luke, Hattie waves her hand towards something.

“You said you wanted to talk to my brother, here he is.”

Suddenly, Hattie’s pulling someone closer to her and Luke is face to face with Owen Shaw. Who blinks at him in surprise and then immediately starts glaring at him. Huh. He never realized Hattie and Owen looked so similar, especially when they were both pissed at him

“Wrong brother.” Luke almost growls

“You didn’t specify.” Hattie sneers at him. “Now that you’ve seen him, you can. Go. Away.”

“Not before I talk to Deckard.”

“Tough shit, arsehole.” Owen snaps at him. “He’s not seeing anyone at the moment.”

“And why’s that?” Luke narrows his eyes at the younger Shaws. “Why the hell are you two being so protective of him? You know I’m not going to hurt him.”

“None of your business.” Brother and sister snap at him at the same time

“I don’t know what has you two acting like the twins from the Shining, but-“

“Oh. Hatts. Just let him in.”

Peering over Owen and Hattie’s heads, Luke finally lays eyes on Deckard Shaw. And nearly flinches in sympathy.

Deckard looks dead tired. Even from this distance, Luke can see the deep, black circles under Deckard’s eyes. Hi shoulders are slumped and his arms seem to almost shake from simply holding a mug. Just like his siblings, he was wearing pajamas, which consisted of a baggy shirt and sweatpants. Both making Deckard seem much smaller than he was

“But, Deck-!” Hattie starts

“Hatts. Just stop. I’m too tired for this. Let me talk to him.” Deckard says quietly and even Luke feels an urge to put the Brit to sleep by how exhausted his voice is

Both Owen and Hattie move out of the door, letting him in, but Luke can feel their eyes tracking him as he walks over to Deckard, who sinks into a couch

“When I said I wanted to talk to him, I meant alone.” Deckard calls out to his siblings, who look like they’re about to argue. But after one more firm look from Deckard, they’re both shuffling away, promises of pain in the looks they send to Luke

“What the hell is their problem? They acted like I was sent here to assassinate you or something.” Luke complained to Deckard

“Don’t mind them.” He sighs. “They’ve been like that since I got diagnosed.”

“Diagnosed?” Luke asks, concerned. “Are you ok?”

Deckard shakes his head

“First stages of lung cancer.”

“Oh shit.”

Deckard hums in agreement.

“I- but- how? You’re not a smoker or anything.”

“No, but I’ve been around enough smoke and fire in my life. Throwing grenades and being too close to the aftermath probably didn’t help.”

Luke nods in understanding.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a truck and then electrocuted by Brixton. Five times in a row.”

Luke winces

“And how’s your treatment?”

“It’s going well, but it leaves me tired. That’s why Hatts and Oh are here. They’ve been helping me out.”

“Playing nursemaid and bodyguard. Weird siblings you got there.”

Deckard let out a small chuckle at that, and Luke could some tension he didn’t know he had leave him. He hadn’t realized that his whole body had gone so stiff when he had seen Deckard. But now, here the smaller man’s voice, Luke felt relieved. Deckard might be sick, but he still had life in him

“Well, if those two aren’t enough, feel free to call me.”

Deckard stares at him

“Do you mean that, Hobbs?”

Reaching his hand out, Luke gently wraps his around Deckard’s and feels his stomach twist when he feels how small and fragile Deckard’s is

“Luke. And yeah. We might argue a lot, but I do care about you, Deckard.”

“Thanks, Luke.” Deckard smiles at him and squeezes his hand, his eyes full of appreciation.

Smiling back, Luke leans back on the couch, and steers the conversation away from Deckard’s illness. He can see how happy Deckard is that they’re no longer talking about it and Luke’s treating this as normal.

As they talk, Luke keeps their hands entwined, only releasing Deckard’s hand to wrap an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. It’s not too long after that Deckard falls alseep, exhaustion finally coming over him.

Looking down at the Brit, Luke makes a silent vow to himself and Deckard. He would be there for him, no matter what. Even if that meant having to get through both Owen and Hattie, who were inching their way back into the living room, sending Luke death glares

Thanks friend! Hope you enjoy this angstiness!

[wholeanimal]

Quietly Shitty Men

“There is a specific type of person who will siphon the gas right from you because they’ve never learned how to shine their own light.” My ex is engaged.  That shouldn’t bother me, should it?  Oh, but it does.  It bothers me because I saw it coming.  Tell me, what makes a woman “crazy”? Is it when she follows her own instincts? Or is it when she suppresses them? Is she crazy for sensing something is wrong, or crazy for acting like it?  It would be one thing if this was someone new. Good luck and God bless.  It would be another if he said, at any point in the relationship, how he felt. That he was anxious or nervous or angry or scared or hurt or apprehensive or lost. You know, feelings.  I can’t blame a person for having feelings. Had he stepped up and said “you know what, I can’t stop thinking about my ex, I want to give it another try with her.”  That would have been fine. Not in the moment, but nine months later, I wouldn’t be feeling like this. Feeling like I’ve just clicked the last piece of the puzzle into place. 

It wasn’t me. It was, obviously, never me.  I wouldn’t still be putting myself back together after riding the world’s shittiest, least exciting roller coaster.  I wouldn’t be having nightmares that I was somehow still dating him, still subjected to his unfortunately not unique brand of emotionlessness and quiet disdain. Like I was the freak for feeling.  When things were really, truly over, that’s when I learned the most about who he was. I remember sitting at the kitchen counter, having a silent panic attack, wondering where I was going to live, what I was going to do, how I was going to make this all work. The pandemic and riots had hit my neighborhood hard, and I was trying to imagine starting life over when everything else was figuratively and literally crumbling.  Granted, I can’t remember the conversation word-for-word, but this is my best attempt.  “What’s going on?”  “Nothing, I’m just freaking out.” “Why?” “I have to move. I have to start over. I have to figure out so many things.” “Yeah, well...” “What?” “I just don’t know why you’re so upset.” “Are you fucking serious?” “Yeah. I don’t know why you have to have so many emotions.”  “Do you mean now, or in general?” “In general.” I was about ready to fly apart.

“You don’t...understand...why I have EMOTIONS?”  ”Yeah. I guess I just don’t see the point.” I don’t remember much after that. I remember going back upstairs and crying so hard I vomited. So much made sense: it wasn’t that he couldn’t empathize with me. It’s that he saw no value in it. Only his emotions were valid. Anything beyond that was simply not worth caring about. It was chilling, and nauseating, and heartbreaking. My heart broke many times over the course of the month I spent living there after we decided to part ways. I had several conversations like this, where I realized just how long I had been having a one-sided relationship. It also made me feel white-hot, clench-fisted RAGE. How DARE he?  NOTHING about his daily life would change. He would wake up in the same bed, go down the same set of stairs, putz around his merry fucking way. He wouldn’t have to spend a dollar or dime sorting out what came next. Me, on the other hand? I lost my job the same day I found my apartment.  I wanted to claw the paint from the walls I had meticulously restored. I wanted to splinter the floors I had paid to have refinished. I wanted to take all this hard work with me, somehow, to show that I had not truly given up everything. That I had something left. I’m not writing this for you to feel bad about me. I’m more than fine.  I’m not looking for words of encouragement. I don’t need them.  I want him, and other quietly shitty men, held accountable.  Nothing my ex did was actually abusive. It was juuuuust under the line, just enough for him to be able to walk away with his hands up, all “Guess it just didn’t work out!” And I know, I KNOW I’m not the only one.  He made me feel crazy and stupid and weak and small and pathetic. I contorted myself into impossible shapes, trying to make the relationship work. I did things he would never do, that I would never do again. I moved across the country. Twice.  I downplayed all the porn he watched. I pushed the fact that he had an active FetLife account out of my mind. I ignored my dealbreaker about being with a smoker - something he claimed he quit, then started up again in secret, then held against me when I called him out. Making me the bad guy.  It got so bad, I suspected I had R-OCD, or relationship-based OCD. That was my only explanation for how I was always so anxious and he was always so calm. It was MY fault that something felt off. He was aware of my tendency to blame myself, and used it against me. Then, he would get to be the patient, understanding boyfriend while I broke down again and again, hating myself for being so “weak.” I wasn’t weak. He was keeping me in the dark on purpose, because it was easier to do that than to, I don’t know, be fucking honest?! 

Every time I got really bent out of shape, when the little slights and coldness and disdain had built up to a breaking point, he would let me say (or scream) my piece, and respond: “You’re right.”  Wow. Thanks!  I see now that you don’t have to do much work on yourself when you just agree with the person who is upset with you.  I’m also not writing this to paint myself as an angel. Yes, I was frustrated and confused and upset, which came out in outbursts of tears and anger. But the difference is, I was trying to connect with him in everything I did.  He was trying to push me away. it dawned on me, during one of those horrible post-breakup conversations, that he had fully checked out many months ago. I finally asked him to define a phrase I had heard him use during couples counseling (another suggestion of mine). “What do you mean by ‘I’m deeply invested in your happiness?’” “What?” “Well, like an investment, do you mean time, money, emotions? Or do you just want me to be ok?” “Yeah, that.” “Ok. so you just want me to be “okay”.” I’ll take “Performative Allyship” for 200! I’ve told myself I should have known. Should have left sooner. Should-ing myself to death, sparing him from any fault. Remember, he’s the long-suffering partner of an overly sensitive woman. Another wince-worthy excerpt from couples counseling: Our therapist asked us, at the end of a session, to each tell the other something we loved about the other person. I turned, with tears in my eyes, and told him I appreciated how consistent he was. I was always able to count on him being stable and calm.  He told me he liked how nice and clean I kept the house.  Cool! He could have saved himself about six months of this bullshit if he had just spoken his mind. I wonder, now, if he even had the capacity. But no, he preferred to wait and let me figure it out on my own, until I was so depleted that I was having almost nonstop migraines. But, just like the sibling who can’t get into trouble because they’re “NOT ACTUALLY TOUCHING YOU!!!”, nothing he did was exactly abusive.  But it was plenty shitty.  Mr. Social Justice. Mr. Feminism. Mr. Don’t Comment On That Topic Or I’ll Shut Down Emotionally. Mr. We Have To Move Away From Montana For Vague Reasons Including Racial Tension Which I Never Actually Experienced But That’s Reason Enough For Me!  And when we got to Philadelphia, it was Mr. Why Don’t You Take More Walks Outside Even Though You Get Harassed and Followed? You’re In The House Too Much (Yeah, Even Though It’s a Pandemic).  He’d spend hours on the phone talking to the nurses he helped at work. But when a woman in need lived in his own house, ew, gross! Too close to home!  There’s a line in a very funny Chris Fleming song called the “Grad Student Shuffle”, which takes the absolute piss out of white male graduate students. A few of the lines apply, but these especially: Call yourself a community organizer Even though you’re not on speaking terms with your roommates! Stand tall and look mindful Even though you're addicted to porn! C'mon! Now close your eyes Say fair enough "Fair enough" Now you are doing the Grad Student Shuffle I’ve gone back and added to this post a bunch of times since I wrote it. I like having a record, even if it’s one-sided. I realize I’m writing this as much for myself as I am for anyone else. To put my story down somewhere, and not to be too concerned if it’s fair or balanced. What happened to me wasn’t fair or balanced.  Which reminds me of the worst confrontation we ever had.  It was just an hour or two after we decided to break up. It was a sad, but quiet conversation. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. I went upstairs to let the new reality soak in, and asked if I could steal a puff from his vaporizer. Not weird, right? What was weird was that I felt like a guest in his room. We kept separate bedrooms, which I highly recommend to any couple who can spare the space. But there is a difference between having the option of separate spaces, and feeling relegated to separate spaces. I didn’t feel welcome in his room, and he made no secret of it.  So, as usual, I asked to go in.  He had left his laptop open on the bed, and I stared off into space as I waited for the vaporizer to heat. I must note, here, that I am not a person who digs. I will run circles in my own brain, but by and large, i leave stuff alone. So I didn’t go looking for what was already on the screen, which was a conversation between him and his best friend.  I read maybe a couple sentences before realizing, oops, probably shouldn’t. It was enough to see one exchange, less than two hours after we had officially broken up. “That sucks, man. How long do you think til you’ll be back on Tinder?” “I don’t know. Probably before she moves out.”  I’d like to say I don’t remember what happened next, but I do remember. I marched down two flights of stairs, yanked two giant plastic bins out of basement storage, and rage-packed everything I owned outside of my own room in less than ten minutes. 

He, of course, had no idea. Nuanced as a fucking turtle, he told me he was going out for a walk, and then asked if something was wrong.  I let him have it. Everything that had been building inside of my body came spewing out, all at once. I stumbled over my own words, laughing-crying-screaming-asking him what the fuck he was thinking, who the fuck he was, and what the fuck was this relationship? Was any of it even REAL?  He had nothing to say.  And that, my friends, was my main mistake. Thinking anything I could ever do could ever get a reaction out of him. Could ever draw the sort of love or support or attention that I used to get from him, before he decided to turn off the tap. 

I spent another month there until I could finally move out. I could tell he was annoyed that I was still there. I remember telling him people aren’t disposable. They don’t disappear when you decide you’re done with them. Thirty days was the absolute minimum I could manage, and even that was an incredible feat.  He asked me to watch the dog, the one he adopted only a couple of months before, while he went out. I remember thinking, “Am I watching this animal so he can go out on dates? No fucking way.” I still don’t know, and I’m glad I don’t. 

He’s not the only quietly shitty guy. There are many. I’m sure bunches of them are being congratulated on their engagements or promotions right now, by people who have never dated them. Have never had the soul-wrenching realization that oh, this person who told you you were their dream and their angel and their moon and stars actually decided like a year ago that they just weren’t feeling it and didn’t have the balls to tell you.  But, feel free to question reality in the meantime! 

Women reading this, beware. There are men who hold up their hands and shrug and say shit like “I wish her the best” and know to use phrases like “emotional labor” to fake enough self-knowledge to start a relationship that they don’t know how to finish.  I encourage you to ask questions. Find out how much they know about themselves. How long their relationships tend to last. If their friends really know them. If they change jobs frequently. If they move states frequently, and why.  But most of all, know yourselves. Know that you deserve to have your questions answered, your emotions validated, and your opinions heard. There are plenty of quietly shitty men to choose from.  You don’t need to choose one.