#the way i am always either sick or injured is a joke. like it sounds like im making it up. i really wish i was lmao

[solasan]

ok update on the arm even tho i know probably none of u were wondering: google has me thinking ive either strained or torn my rotator cuff, so that’s fun :)

[slytherweasley]

If you okay with it can you do fred weasley x reader hurt comfort

Maybe something happened and they got in a fight that ended off pretty badly but they work it out in the end

<3 thank you if you do end up doing this have a good day lovely

Is this the end? (Fred Weasley x reader)

Warnings: swearing, argument, angst

You’d waited around for Fred for hours after school, he had detention with Umbridge after he and George got caught trying to play a prank which ended up badly with injured students and a big mess for Filch. You’d gotten comfortable in his hoodie cuddled up in his bed reading a book.

The door swings open violently making you gasp, Fred walks in looking miserable. “Hi love” you jump out of bed to greet him with a hug. You wrap your arms around him but he shrugs you off after a couple seconds not even bothering to hug you back.

“How was detention?” You ask as he takes off his tie throwing it on the ground “Delightful” he replies his tone full of sarcasm. “Right sorry” you apologise backing away to give him some space, you’ve been through your fair share of detentions with Umbridge so you understand how much it sucks.

“You left your fucking clothes on the floor for anyone to trip over” he curses kicking them away “Sorry, I was just excited to read this book I forgot to put them away.” He chuckles ironically “Your nose is always in a book” he starts getting undressed out of his uniform.

You knew he needed space but he was seeking an argument and just leaving under any other circumstance besides a life or death situation would cause an argument about not caring about him. You need to tread lightly the rest of the night.

You pick up the book as he mutters angrily to himself. “You’re not even listening to me!” He catches your attention “Sorry, love I didn’t know you were talking to me.”

“I am so glad I’m leaving this shithole next week.” He wasn’t going to tell you he was leaving Hogwarts with George until the day of so you wouldn’t convince him to stay but he can’t handle his emotions in this moment.

“You’re what?” You ask “George and I aren’t finishing this year, there’s nothing here left for us” you raise your eyebrows. “Nothing here?” You question “Tell me what’s left for me?” “Me! I’m still here.”

You stand up angrily and he crosses his arms.

“Oh come on it’s almost the end” “So why can’t you stay?” “Because we have bigger and better things to be getting on with.” “When were you going to tell me about this?” “On the day” “You knew I wouldn’t be happy but you’re doing it anyway.”

“I can’t let you hold me back” “I’m not holding you back, I want to graduate with you by my side, is that too much to ask?” “Yes. I don’t want it and neither does George” “Let George go by himself” you suggest. “We don’t do anything without each other” “I thought we had that too.”

“Let’s face it, you want to go on to be a writer I want to open a joke shop. We want different things” “So what are you saying?” “You know what I’m saying.”

Your stomach flips and your heart pounds, you start to feel weak and lightheaded. The anxiety of it all ending that quick made you physically sick.

“I feel sick” you say making your way to the door and slamming it on your way out. You half expected or rather hoped he would run out after you but he didn’t, to you that meant it was truly over.

You lay there in your dorm for what felt like hours, you couldn’t do anything but lay and stare into the abyss. Your dorm mates hadn’t come back yet so it wasn’t curfew but they would be back and you would have to face people and reality.

A loud knock and the sound of the door opening snapped you out of our blank staring. You sit up just enough to see Fred walking in.

“I don’t want to break up” he says quickly before you have the chance to kick him out. “I don’t either” tears fall down your face, the relief sets in.

You get up and meet Fred in the middle of your dorm wrapping your arms around each other. “I love you so much” he assures you “I love you too.”

He presses his lips to yours his hands cupping your cheeks. You take him to your bed your lips unable to leave his as he gets on top of you.

He eventually pulls away getting off you and pulling your body close to his as you cuddle up together.

“I’m sorry, I have been under so much pressure lately and I don’t handle it well. And you’re not holding me back you helped me, you’re the one who encouraged George and I to keep going with the products.”

“You should leave here, go and do what you want, I’ll see you after graduation and we can go on with everything” “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you if you can’t handle it because I won’t be able to” “Go, Fred, I want you to be happy and staying here will make things worse between us.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, your hand finds its way to his hair slightly tugging on it as you kiss him again. “I love you so much” you whisper “I’m sorry and I love you.”

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Can I request HSP + depression reader (who thinks they are just weak and being crybaby) x Bucky, please? I understand you are super busy right now and I didn’t mean to rush you or anything but I'm just struggling with both HSP and depression and couldn’t help but send it right now. No need to hurry, just when you are free and maybe when you had nothing to write. Thank you and I love you!

Thank you for the request, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult time for you! I’m here if you need me and I hope that this helps!!! 

It’s called empathy

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1981

Warnings: depression, HSP (highly sensitive person), low self worth, negative self talk, swearing (that’s normal for me but this one’s a little extra), angst (more so internal idk if that needs a warning), fluff/comfort

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @buckys-blue-eyes @strawberrimae @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing

Taglist     Masterlist

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

Breathe in

Breathe out

In 

Out 

...in…

You felt a tear escape your eyes

Goddamn it

You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. It was stupid, it was just some shitty remark from someone when they were in a shitty mood, it wasn’t your fault, all that bullshit you tried to tell yourself. It never worked.

You were trying to control your breathing, looking up at the ceiling trying to will the tears away, biting your lip. You would not cry, not over this. Not over something that wasn’t worth your tears

Not when you didn’t even know what exactly you were crying over. 

Yet here you were, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink with white knuckles, looking up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay. And it wasn’t working.

Weak sensitive piece of shit. 

What good were you to the team if you cry in the bathroom like a baby every time something remotely stressful happens? People usually cry when they're in pain or when they’re grieving - the only excuse you had was you were stressed or sad. 

You felt another few tears escape and you angrily swiped them away, cursing yourself for being so weak. 

You hated this, you hated yourself. You were so numb most of the time, especially when you were alone. You found yourself alone in your room with racing thoughts feeling like you were falling apart. Yet when you were alone you could only stare at the ceiling wondering if it would get any worse. 

The answer was usually yes.

Whenever you would go on missions with the team, you were able to push aside your stress. You had a job to do and you would do it. But when the mission was over and you were walking back through the rubble - seeing all the blood, destruction, fear - then it would start to get to you. You would panic, you would feel tears cloud your vision. Tears for those you were leaving behind, and those who had nowhere to go, those who lost someone. That was understandable. 

It seemed to affect you more than the others though. It was understandable to be moved by so much destruction. But for you everyone felt like someone you had known and loved. 

You could feel the grief in those left behind, feel the sadness and pain that they were going through. 

The same was true when you weren’t on missions. When those who were on them would come back. Whether they were injured or their eyes were saddened - you knew when a mission was rough. You would listen, you would be there for people. It was easy to talk to you, and you were very wise. 

But it still overwhelmed you. You couldn’t say no, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help but it would be so emotionally taxing for you. So behind closed doors, you would break. Be there for others, listen when they need to talk, others come first - you took their emotional pain onto yourself. 

You were grateful that you could help - but in the process it was hurting you. 

You allowed yourself to feel sad when you were alone in your room. No one could see you be weak in the dark of your room. But you never cried much just from the pure exhaustion of your thoughts. Sometimes you wanted to, just feeling so incredibly empty that you just wanted to have an ugly crying session curled up in bed.

But you didn’t get to make that choice.

The crying wouldn’t come until the absolute worst times. If you had messed up on a mission, if Tony said something a little too harshly because to him everything was a joke, seeing something gruesome on a mission- whenever it came to someone else getting involved, the tears would come. Hell sometimes even being overwhelmed in public would be enough to start the waterworks. 

You always felt so fucking weak for it. The slightest environmental stressor could stress you out too much and move you to tears. You had no reason to be upset most of the time. But you would get angry at yourself for being upset, which would make you more upset that you couldn’t control it, making it harder to control.

It was a vicious cycle.

Lately it had been popping up more and more recently. Smaller things were upsetting you more than usual. You were becoming more sensitive to external stimuli and as a result, you spent as much time as you could in your room. You were embarrassed by yourself. Both by your emotions and by your inability to control them. 

This time you were just upset that you were upset. It had been a long night the day prior, just a lot of paperwork to do. There had been a mission earlier this week that you hadn’t been assigned to, but it had been brutal for everyone who had gone. So far today had been a normal day by anyone’s terms, an emotionally exhausting one for you. One of those where you woke up tired and the thoughts of another day were enough to draw you to tears. Nothing had even happened, but apparently nothing needed to happen. 

Your emotions came and went without your consent. 

You knew deep down it was probably some sort of emotional build up - that whole quote about bottling things up until they got to be too much - it happened every time but you still thought you could handle yourself better than that. You didn’t want to vent or be a problem to anyone. But when you are the emotional support for most of the team and you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or take time for yourself - you didn’t have much of a say as to when the bottle overflows.

A few more tears fell and you slammed your hand on the counter, wiping your tears angrily once more. “God fucking damn it why can’t you just stop fucking crying!” you exclaimed, feeling a few more tears falling “Weak piece of shit!” 

There was knocking on the door, pulling you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You gasped lightly, wiping your face again. 

Knock knock

You jumped a little, gasping slightly. No one was supposed to be here, it was the middle of the night. 

“Y/n? What’s going on in there? Are you alright?”

You took a shaky breath. Of course it would be Bucky who heard you. Why would it be anyone else?

“I’m fine Bucky, it’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“Then why are you still awake?” Bucky responded. You heard him sigh a little outside the door. “Come out here and tell me you’re okay.”

“Really Bucky?”

“Unless you want me to come in there, but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me breaking your door.”

You took a small breath and walked over to the door, opening it. You crossed your arms and met Bucky’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, taking in your appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, your hair was messy - you were definitely crying. He hated when you wouldn’t admit that you weren’t ok. “You know you don’t have to be, right?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep fresh tears from clouding your vision. “What?”

“You say you’re fine, you always say that you’re fine until you break. I heard you crying, I can see that you’re not feeling okay yet still you try to keep a brave face. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to always be okay.”

You let out a breath. “I - i…” you looked down and shook your head, lost for words. 

“Y/n, I’m not here to judge you. Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you said looking up at him “It’s literally so stupid, Bucky.”

“Y/n, nothing you say right now is going to sound stupid. 

You shrugged your shoulders, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just get so worked up sometimes, but it’s stupid. I tell myself I’m not going to be bothered and then I freak out again. The smallest things bother me and I get stressed out and then I cry like some stupid weak bitch. People have it worse than me, God, you have it worse than me. Everyone here has some sort of traumatic awful thing happen to them and then there’s me and I get sad because I see other people sad,” you were crying again and you wiped at your face, covering your eyes. “God Im so fucking stupid I -”

Bucky pulled you into his chest as you let out a sob. “You’re not stupid, y/n.”

“YES I AM. I get worked up over the smallest shit, I don’t listen when people tell me to take breaks, I take everything too personally and I can’t stop fucking crying when I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong!” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself away, ashamed.

Bucky held you tightly, not letting you go. “That’s not your fault. It’s not up to you how your feelings show up.”

“But I cry at the most stupid shit and I can’t control it.”

“You’re not supposed to know how to control it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Emotions can’t be controlled. They just happen and it’s rarely convenient.”

“Then why do I feel so weak? If this,” you gestured to yourself “is so goddamn normal then why isn’t everyone else breaking down every other day?” 

Bucky brushed some hair out of your face. “Your emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response either. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.”

You shook your head. “I just feel so weak all the time.” 

“And I’m here to remind you that crying isn’t weak. You are not a weak person, you are not a bad person, you’re not any of those things your mind tells you. You’re a kind and thoughtful person. You put your heart into everything you do. You help everyone you can. Mourning someone else’s loss isn’t weakness. It’s called empathy.”

You took a small breath. “Then why does it hurt so goddamn much?”

“”I don’t know. And I can’t say for certain that you won’t always feel that way. But I know I can tell you that you aren’t weak, and I’ll be here every time you feel that you are.” 

You nodded your head slightly. “You don’t think I’m weak?” you asked quietly.

He pulled you back into a hug. “Not in the slightest, y/n.”

[guardianofrivendell]

Reckless

Meludir x gender neutral reader

Requested: Yes! Anon asked: “Hello, can i please get a oneshot between meludir and reader where reader is injured from an orc attack and meludir is looking after them?”

Warnings: I tried to write something fluffy, I really did, just a normal fluffy kind of oneshot but the force of sarcasm and sass is too strong! 

A/N: I didn’t know Meludir that well, and there isn’t much information about him besides that he’s from the Mirkwood guard, so I just went with my own interpretation of his character. This was also a request that was long overdue (by now all of my requests fall into that category, I AM SO SORRY).

“I can’t believe we’ve waited so long,” Meludir chuckled, gently wiping the hair out of your face.  

You were both relaxing together at the edge of the forest, right at the other side of the bridge where the trees stopped and the palace grounds began. It was one of the more quieter spots in the kingdom, away from all the hustling and bustling of the palace, but still close enough so you would notice if something was wrong. Your sense of duty as a member of the Mirkwood Guard was never far away, even if you had some time off.

Meludir was sitting with his back against a tree, your head resting in his lap, your eyes closed. One of his hands was intertwined with yours and the other one was now lazily going through your hair. For a moment it felt like it was just the two of you, and time stood still. 

“Maybe we were a little too blind to see what was right in front of us,” you said in response, and brought the hand that was going through your hair to your lips to kiss it, marveling at the softness of his skin. “But I’m glad our eyes finally opened, Meludir. I don’t think I could have gone another day dancing around each other, meleth nin.”

Meludir hummed softly and placed a kiss on your forehead. “I could not agree more. Gi melin, mîr nin. An uin.” (I love you, my treasure, forever)

He then started singing to you, his voice soothing and barely above a whisper. You focused on the caresses of his thumb on your hand, and when his fingers started gently scratching your scalp, you felt yourself slowly slipping away. 

“Sleep, meleth nin. Sleep, my one true star.”

The high-pitched scratching of a chair dragging across the floor pulled you out of your more than pleasant dream. 

You desperately tried to focus on the last images which were still lingering in your mind but alas, the loving words sung by Meludir were slowly replaced with the soft thumping of a massive headache and your head was no longer resting on his comfortable lap but on a fluffy pillow instead. Which was also nice but, you know, not the same. 

Someone took your hand in theirs, followed by a soft squeeze. No, no, no, you weren’t ready to wake up yet! You weren’t done with that dream! Who needed the cruel reality where your best friend was just that, your best friend - with the emphasis on friend - while in your dreams he was your intended? So hello dreamworld it was! 

You tried to turn on your side so you could try and go back to sleep, but as soon as your right leg shifted just the tiniest bit, a shot of pain went through it, setting it on fire and making your body go rigid. 

Okay, so moving was a big no no. What happened to you?

You inhaled a little deeper to try and breathe through the pain, when the scent of herbs and starched linen filled your nose.  Wait a minute... The pain in your leg, the smell of herbs and linen…  This was not your own comfortable bed you were lying in! 

You were in the healing wing! 

Okay… Maybe you should open your eyes and check? Just to be sure?

But you were rather comfortable if you were being honest - if you didn’t count the slight throbbing in your head and your leg that was still hurting - and as long as your eyes remained closed, you didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of whatever happened to you. 

Better make the most of it and try and sleep some more! 

But alas… there was no rest for you when flashes of what had happened shot through your head, making you forget about the pain for a moment. 

You had been on a patrol through the deeper parts of the forest with your friend Meludir and a few other guards when you’d stumbled across a couple of spiders. Despite being far outnumbered by the vile creatures, you came out victorious, but you couldn’t prevent some of the less experienced guards from getting hurt. While you were taking care of their injuries, Meludir had spotted an orc pack in the distance. 

So of course you had to go after them… By yourself, leaving a very upset Meludir with the wounded. You’d deal with him afterwards. He will come around eventually, he always did. That’s why you were such good friends. 

You were all about impulsive decisions. It’s what made you join the Mirkwood Guard in the first place and usually that turned out for the best. This time? Hmm… not so much. 

You were caught off guard during the fight and suffered a stab wound in your leg because of it, there were simply too many Orcs for you to face alone. Oh you could almost hear Meludir’s ‘I told you so’! While you were distracted trying to get the dagger out of your thigh as soon as possible - afraid it was poisoned - one of the remaining Orcs saw its chance and charged at you. Your reflexes were too slow and you failed to deflect the hilt of his sword. That’s when the lights went out. 

“Y/N?”

Another squeeze in your hand. 

Seriously, how impatient can someone get? You were sleeping! Or trying to, your leg was still hurting after all. Didn’t they teach them how rude it was to wake a sleeping, injured person? Not good for the healing process! 

But the sounds surrounding you were getting louder, reverberating against the insides of your skull and making your head throb even worse. Guess that blow to your head actually did do some damage there. Better keep those eyes closed for a while longer, you thought. 

But you were also curious, and you couldn’t help trying to concentrate on the sounds closest to you. You could hear a voice talking softly to themselves, it sounded oddly familiar, it had sung to you in your dream not ten minutes ago. Meludir…

You suddenly remembered who exactly you were dreaming of a few moments ago. Oh Eru, you didn’t talk in your sleep right?!

“I know you’re awake, Y/N.”

Yeah, that was Meludir alright. You could almost hear the smirk coming through his voice. The hand covering yours was probably his too. 

Oh, he was not going to like this. He’s probably worried sick, or angry. Or both. Either way, you were in trouble. 

You opened your eyes a little to take a small peek. If there was even the slightest hint of anger on his face, you were going to pretend to be asleep for a little while longer.

Meludir seemed relaxed at first sight, his elbows were resting on his knees, his hands holding onto your left one. He was still wearing his uniform, covered with blood stains from the encounter with the spiders, and you noticed some black Orc blood as well. But he was unharmed, thank the Valar. 

His dark eyes were already staring at you as soon as your eyes met his, boring into yours with such an intensity that you couldn’t help but look away in shame...  Busted.

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” you tried to joke, trying to assess his current mood. He looked like he was relieved to see you awake. This might not be so bad after all.

Oh how naive could you be...

“Now that you’ve finally opened your eyes...” he began. 

The relief that was etched on his face slowly turned into anger. Uh-oh. 

“What were you thinking, Y/N?!” he whisper-shouted, smacking your arm. 

“Hey hey, no assaulting the injured!” you protested, grasping your arm.

“Your arm is fine! Wish I could say the same about your leg and your head,” he huffed.  

You rolled your eyes and let go of your arm. 

“Both are still attached to my body so clearly you are overreacting, Meludir!”

“I am overreacting? Who exactly went after an entire Orc pack by themselves?! You! And without even telling me, you just ran off!” he ranted, seeming to forget he was in the healing wing. “You could’ve died, Y/N!”

“But I didn’t,” you countered. 

Meludir rushed to stand, his swift movement unbalancing the chair. 

“But you could have! I could have lost you!” he snapped, his hands going through his dark hair in frustration. 

You didn’t know if he said that last sentence to himself or not, but this was the first time you saw him in such a state and you didn’t know what to think of it. 

You hated it when Meludir was angry at you. He just had to get it all off his chest, you knew that, but that didn’t mean you liked it when he yelled at you.

One of the healers nearby reprimanded him for raising his voice, and that seemed to calm the Mirkwood Elf a little. He looked at you apologetically.  

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, I was just- Never mind…” He took a seat on your bed this time, carefully as to not hurt your leg. “Tell me, how are you feeling?” he asked, taking a deep breath. 

Oh. Okay, we finally have worried Meludir. That’s a good thing. You could work with him.

“Killer headache and as long as I lie still, I should be fine. I’ll be back up in no time.”

“You had me- and us, you had us worried there, Y/N.”

Meludir’s hand wrapped around yours again. Weird, since when did you guys start to hold hands this much?

“Awww, you were worried about me?” you teased him, trying to ignore the strange feeling in your stomach when you looked at your joined hands.  

“Y/N, I found you unconscious and bleeding on the ground with Orcs leaning over you. Of course I was worried!” he raised his voice, his eyes wide in concern. “You were out for several hours!”

After a few seconds Meludir let go of your hand and sighed. 

You finally got a good look at him and you noticed his hair was messy, some strands sticking to the side of his head. He looked tired, you didn’t think you ever saw him tired before. He was a complete mess. Very unlike him.

The poor Elf had probably been at your side the whole time. Guilt started settling in your stomach.

“I’m sorry I made you worried,” you apologised, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

Meludir chuckled. “Yeah, we both know that’s not going to happen.”

You lifted your head a little to look around, and you were surprised to see the other beds empty. Where were the other guards?

“How are the others?”

“Some scratches and minor injuries, a few spider bites. Nothing the healers couldn’t fix. You were worse off than them,” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

You let your head drop back into the pillow dramatically, relieved to hear the others were fine. But something still bothered you.

You rolled your head to the side to look at him and pointed at his chest.

“Why is there Orc blood on your uniform?”

“Well, someone had to finish what you started.”

Is that a smirk you saw? The cheeky bastard!

“Oh, just you wait until I get back on my feet, I’ll happily remind you who’s the better fighter,” you challenged him. 

“That’ll take some time, the healers said you can go to your own chambers once you wake up, but…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead looking at you in apprehension. 

“What? What’s with the dramatic pause?”

“You have to stay off guard duty for at least two weeks. Orders from the healers and King Thranduil.” 

“What?” you gasped, and you winced when you sat up a little too fast and careless, hurting your leg in the process. Your hand flew towards your thigh and you saw Meludir’s hands doing the same. 

“Don’t hurt the messenger! Or yourself!” he joked, but you didn’t miss the slight hint of fear and worry in his eyes. Good.

“Meludir,” you whined, dragging out his name, “you don’t understand! I’ll die out of boredom!”

“Your wound needs healing, Y/N. You cannot use your leg and you need your rest.” 

He grabbed your hand and traced your knuckles with his thumb. 

“And in the meantime I’ll be there to take care of you.”

Oh. Oh.

Well in that case...

He squeezed your hand again, and smiled at you. It lit up his entire face, and you couldn’t help but mimic his expression. Maybe with him as your private nurse it wouldn’t be so bad after all. The prospect of being carried around by Meludir all the time made it all seem almost enjoyable. 

“But before I carry you to your chambers, I need you to explain something to me first, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course, what is it?”

The corner of his lip twitched and his entire demeanour changed. 

“Why did you call me ‘meleth nin’ in your sleep?”

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[jordankennedy]

what are your fav tma quotes?

okay these are not romantic or anything like that my favorite quotes are the ones that are either very harrowingly worded or very entertainingly descriptive of something freaky

“It’s hard to really describe the sound that came from the bedroom. The closest I could come would be to say it sounded like… an egg being dropped onto a stone floor; a sort of wet, cracking thump. Then silence. Harriet was no longer making any noise at all.” (06)

“I began to pray again for protection, not for the place this time, but for me. As I did, I felt… something answer me. And yet, I cannot stress this enough: what answered was not God. It wasn’t Him. Something else answered my call for protection.” (19)

“I mean, I only did it for a few months, but you kill enough things that don’t want to be killed and you start to look at a person’s head and wonder where you’d need to place the bolt gun.” (30)

“It feels odd to consider the fact that you will no longer exist some day, but you didn’t exist for billions of years before your birth, so, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to conclude that you will not exist afterwards in much the same way. I try to see life as a pleasant holiday from non-existence.” (36)

“Even the bulb seemed to be covered with [ants], causing the light in the room to be covered with twitching shadow. The house itself didn’t look much better. Wherever there was a gap in the ants I could see that same oily rot, and I couldn’t escape the idea that the building was somehow sick.” (55)

“Humans have existed for the smallest sliver of a fraction of a moment in the existence of the universe, and we will be extinguished just as widely. And when we are at last gone forever into the quiet emptiness of death, there will be nothing left but the cold universe. And nothing shall mark our passing because there is nothing to do so.” (57)

“He told me he had come from the concentration camps, that there were many among the Boers that shared his state, and that he longed to touch me with all that we had visited upon them. He talked of disease, putrefaction and the writhing creatures of filth. He breathlessly talked of his revelation. Then he died, as did the man who came to bury him.” (68)

“He looks at me, his face impassive… if I even see a face. He tells me that I look terrible. I try to focus, but his body shifts and undulates like so much else when I try to focus. I tell him I haven’t slept, and he nods and tells me that’s ok. He is lying, and it makes me very afraid.” (74)

“Ah… I hate explaining jokes, but, um… Imagine you’re, um… a butcher, and one day an injured little lamb walks into your workshop, and strides right into one of the mincing machines, but when you go up to it, knife in hand, it shakes it’s head and tells you “I’m not stupid”. Do you get why that’s funny?” (89)

“I don’t know if it’s the most painful thing that can happen to the human body, but… beyond a certain point trying to quantify and measure pain, it becomes pointless. That point is being struck by lightning.” (91)

“She’d discuss her dissections with me, I think just to watch me squirm a bit, and talk about how hungry she always got at the smell of preserved brain. Apparently, it’s exactly like tinned tuna.” (94)

“When he was in school, he lost a friend to something like me. His friend was named Ryan, but those in power simply called him schizophrenic. I don’t know if he was, but it doesn’t matter. He was so dreadfully afraid his world wasn’t real that to make it so was almost nothing.” (101)

“And I wonder if there might not be consciousnesses out there so far beyond our comprehension that we could not properly recognize them as such. Minds so strange and colossal that we would never know they were minds at all. Perhaps, out there in the endless vast, they would not notice or recognize us in return. And I wish that I could convince myself that ignorance was the same thing as safety. But then, how many weeds have you unthinkingly stepped on in your lifetime?” (106)

“The passenger is there, though she is, as always, stationary. Dry dirt trickles between her teeth as she smiles mirthlessly, seeing the Archivist has returned. She is relaxed, suspended from a dozen broken handrails and shattered, jagged seats. They cut her flesh, but she does not bleed. There is no pain in her eyes. There is nothing except the certainty of her fate.” (120)

“Before him rises an incinerator door, the glowing light of the flames curling around the cracks. With a wailing shriek, the door opens, and the burning silhouette that stands within is ingrained upon the Archivist’s racing mind. They smoke and sizzle, but still the worms crawl through her charred and pockmarked flesh, her now-singed red dress shifting with the movement beneath it. the exterminator looks to her, then to the Archivist, and it is not certain which he fears more.” (120)

“Every single shriveled ashened face was contorted in a scream of agony, every sharp and jutting jaw cracked and twisted in an expression of horror. Of understanding not just of their death, but the end of everything they knew. It was clear that they had been this way for years, if not decades. Bernadette says she was sure nothing had moved in that dead city for a hundred years. She was mistaken.” (134)

“There are terrible things coming, things that, if we knew of them, would leave us weak and trembling, with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us. We all made them, and their course is already plotted. You can see them in the numbers, if you only learn how to read them.” (144)

“Perhaps she is no more active than Terminus, simply sitting and reveling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia, as those who hold her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory. Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear in order to ensure you behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. Perhaps I have never even seen a beach. Don’t come to Hill Top Road again.” (147)

[ashbrea381writings]

Flying Blind: Chapter 2, Meeting the Bats

“Bunnyx? Should I be concerned?” Ladybug asked, turning to look at the person behind her. Bunnyx was obviously a good five or so years older than the rest of the team, and Batman would have shrugged it off if it weren’t for the next words from Bunnyx’s mouth.

“Nah, I wanted to be at this meeting since current me wasn’t.” Bunnyx pulled up a chair and flipped it backwards to sit on it that way. “To explain, Batman, I can’t tell them too much or the timeline would become unstable, and that really isn’t good. I help where I can and where they are going astray from the correct timeline.”

“Who is to say the correct timeline?” Robin asked. “Couldn’t you nudge it into a more favorable outcome?”

“Not without disappearing. Back to the Future style.” Bunnyx commented bitterly. “Been there, almost disappeared, it sucked. But I can tell you this, LB, it’s okay to trust them with the info you’ve got so far. They’re very helpful.”

“Thanks Bunnyx. Sticking around?” Ladybug asked, handing them a plate with some pastries.

“For the best pastries in Paris for free? Yes, for sure.” Bunnyx started laughing as they took the plate and took a few steps back. “I’m probably gonna let you all strategize without me though, I just wanted to hear the convo I missed the first time ‘round.”

“Oh please, you know they would feed every one of you guys for free if you asked. Unless you’ve had a falling out in the future I don’t currently know about?” Ladybug teased, loosening up more than she had so far.

“Nah, but at the point I’m at, I’m trying not to drain them, you have no idea how much time travel makes you hungry.” Bunnyx chuckled. “Besides, with the rest of these guys stopping by constantly, I’m surprised they even manage to make any money.”

Ladybug shook her head but didn’t comment, turning back to Batman and sighing. “We also have a friend who cannot always help out in battle for civilian reasons. That is Tempest, who has the ability to transform into three different forms; lightning, air, and water.”

“And you’re all about the same age?” Batman asked, his frown deepening.

“More or less, within about a year and a half from oldest to youngest.” Chat confirmed as Ladybug nodded. “We try not to advertise our real ages for both identity reasons, and to try and control just how many people don’t want us doing this due to our ages.”

“And you have no mentor? No Adult to pull you out if things get rough?” Batman’s voice was incredulous, and he sat up even straighter in his seat.

“Unless you count Bunnyx who jumps back from the future now and then to check in.” Chat joked, poking said hero in the ribs.

“Watch it, Kitty-Cat, I can and will send my younger self something embarrassing about you.” Bunnyx slapped his hand away, but sounded bored.

“Who gave you your powers then? You said before that you got your abilities from items?” Robin asked, leaning forward and bracing his arms on the table.

“Like I said, he gave up his memories to protect more of the artifacts.” Ladybug sighed, “The items in question are individually called the Miraculous. There is a box that I have custody of that usually holds them. I won’t say how many there are. Right now I’m letting each person here use one, Chat and I were picked by the former Guardian. When Hawkmoth found out the identity of the former Guardian, he attempted to find out our identities too and wanted to steal the box for himself.” Ladybug stood and began to pace slightly in the little room there was. “During the battle, Chat and I were able to retrieve the contents, and the former Guardian transferred his title to me. The magic of the Miraculous wiped his memories to keep the secrets of the Miraculous from ever being taken from him.”

“So not only are you a superhero as a teenager, but you guard a set of ancient artifacts that each hold incredible power?!” Batman stood abruptly. “If there is some sort of title involved, who gave that title to your mentor?”

“People who are a combination of long gone or not welcome here due to antiquated ways.” Ladybug snapped harshly. “Do not presume to know what is going on with us. Age does not mean wisdom, just that you assume you know what is best for other people.”

Batman took a step back and sighed. “I am angry on your behalf that you were put under this amount of pressure.” He took a moment to calm himself and shook his head. “Am I correct to assume that Hawkmoth is of a similar age to me?”

Ladybug studied Batman for a few moments, sharing glances with a few of the other teammates who all made some sort of gesture or facial expression that they understood among themselves. “Roughly, yes, we cannot be precise but I would judge you and him to be within 3 or so years of each other.”

“What other information do you have? We might be able to help figure him out.”

“It will be difficult, the magic of the Miraculous makes it difficult to pinpoint an identity, and tends to make you want to drop the search. Although, there are some exceptions. Rena figured Carapace out after meeting him in the mask twice.” Ladybug pointed out. At that comment, Rena chuckled and elbowed a blushing Carapace.

“Not fair, LB, you know why it was that easy for her to figure me out.” Carapace muttered, pulling his hood lower over his face.

“My point is, maybe someone with an outside perspective would be able to push past it.” Ladybug shook her head at her friends. “Here, this has everything we’ve observed about Hawkmoth, and information that will help you to identify him more easily. Some of that information covers Miraculous holders in general from our own observations about ourselves. Don’t look into our identities with this, just Hawkmoth.”

“What kind of information?” Batman asked, taking the flash drive.

“How much of a height difference we have when we transform, how much things like hair and eye color change, Chat is an exception for the eyes part.” Chat gave a bow as Ladybug said his name. “It also has Hawkmoth’s approximate measurements from what I’ve been able to figure out the few times we’ve seen him in person. He’s a very tall, slender man.”

Batman handed the flash drive to Robin, who plugged it into a screen on his glove, asking quietly, “Hmmm, how accurate are these measurements and how did you get them?”

“I’m good at sizing people, there’s a civilian reason for it that I won’t name. I could probably give you yours if you wanted.” Ladybug chuckled.

“She’s nearly dead-on, actually, I’ve seen it in action.” Chat added, smirking. “Like that time she figured out who was who at a costume party.”

“That was one time and it was a bet, King Monkey should have known better than to challenge me, he’s known me for years.” Ladybug sniffed. “Besides, it was a good team-building exercise for me to identify you guys in the crowd while you switched costumes.”

“Team building exercise?” Batman seemed unconvinced.

“We’d only just decided that we all needed to know who each other were. So we went to a big costume party with several quick change outfits and tried to identify each other so we’d always know who was who even if we switched Miraculi.” Ladybug explained.

“You all know each other as civilians?” Robin asked, looking shocked.

“After what happened with the former Guardian, I was rather… Stressed and didn’t have a way to tell anyone why it was so bad, so I confided in Rena, and she basically told me that it was time we all knew each other. She’d known Carapace from the start and he found out about her shortly after, so it was something that just made sense. We coordinate better now and know what’s going on in each other’s lives and can adjust for it.” Ladybug shrugged. “We know if one of us is sick, or busy, or can’t get away from civilian life long enough to handle Akuma’s now. We’re more coordinated in our plans and can cover for each other both as heroes and civilians.”

“Do your families know you’re all doing this?” Batman asked quietly, seeming to think about the situation.

“One of us has parents that know, I won’t say who.” Ladybug crossed her arms and stared the Bat down.

“And what do they think?”

Chat chucked, “They’ve basically adopted everyone who wasn’t their kid already and told everyone to stop by anytime. They also keep an eye on the news and give excuses for the one that’s their kid to make sure they get to be at Akuma fights when they’re needed for it.”

“They also offered to patch us up if there’s ever an injury that the Cure doesn’t fix. We haven’t run into that problem yet though.” Honey Bee added, making a gesture like she would start touching up her manicure before being stopped short by her gloves. “By the way, Bug, you need to teach us how to adjust our suits manually, you said there was a way.”

“That’s an entire Saturday on it’s own, Bee, save it for the next girl’s day.” Ladybug waved her off casually.  “Now, I’m sure you guys have what you need to start the investigation with you?”

“Yes, we’ll keep you posted.” Batman held out a comm unit to Ladybug. “The batteries last three days, if it takes longer than that I can meet you here to switch out. It’s also undetectable while you’re wearing it and muting it and turning it on and off is intuitive.”

“MmmmHmmm, I’m willing to bet it’s also a tracker. Pegasus, take a look?” She passed the device to said hero and he plugged it into a small tablet he pulled out of a pocket.

“There is the ability for it to track movements, but that was disabled before I even touched it.” Pegasus handed it and Ladybug tucked it into her ear, testing the settings a bit before leaving it muted but on.

“I know how important secret identities are, the tracker is only in there because it’s the same type as what Robin uses and I’d rather not have him injured somewhere and not be able to get ahold of him.”

“I still don’t like the tracker either, B.” Robin muttered, causing the Miraculous holders to chuckle.

“We can track each other when we’re suited up.” Ladybug swept a hand around the group. “It’s useful to know when each other is on the way or where someone is when you need to meet up.”

“Anyway, we all have places to be, so we’ll check in once and a while through LB to see how it’s going.” Chat said, cleaning off the table and tucking the dishes back into the baskets they came from. “Bee, here’s yours, I think you’ll be missed sooner.” He passed one off the Honeybee who promptly zipped away on her top, waving as she passed over the building. “LB, delicious as always, I need to convince them to teach me their ways.” He sighed, handing Ladybug a basket.

“Don’t be shy, if you ask I’m sure they’d show you. They don’t have anyone willing to take over when they retire, and it might be good for you to have a job like a normal person.” She laughed, taking the larger basket and setting it on the ground before wiping down the table with a cloth she’d pulled out.

“Don’t think I won’t… Next time I’m home alone for the weekend, I’m there.” He laughed and collapsed the table after she wiped it. One by one, the other Miraculous holders put away the chairs and helped Chat wrangle the table into it’s storage shed.

“How often do you guys do this?” Robin asked, watching as the other heroes took off in separate directions.

“As often as we have the time and can get away from our civilian lives. Since we all know each other, it isn’t as hard as it was.” Ladybug shrugged, ruffling Chat’s hair.

“We keep it to a reasonable amount of time and not everyone is always able to make it, but it’s always a nice way to get in some bonding time with the team.” Chat added, pushing Ladybug’s hand off of him. “We’re basically family to each other at this point, so we don’t see a reason why we shouldn’t spend time together. I gotta run, it’s almost time for my next thing.” He sighed and launched himself up with his stick, waving at them and running across the rooftops.

“We’ll be in contact, and I’ll be listening on the comm.” Ladybug pointed to her ear where the device was invisible to any who didn’t know it was there.

With that, the rest of the remaining heroes left, leaving Batman and Robin in a closed-off alley with a beautiful garden and a small shed. “Want me to check what else is in the shed?” Robin asked after making sure his comm was muted.

“No, there was nowhere to hide anything, it’s only big enough for the stuff that’s in there and they left it open the whole time we were talking.” Batman sighed and looked at the sky that was going pink with dusk. “Let’s get to the hotel.”

[charrwybie]

(I've seen this interview meme floating around the tag and it looks super fun so here it goes! Wyatt is not my Commander, but he's still a fun character who WOULD have fans bc he's in a band! Used to do ballet!)

INTRODUCTION

- Can you introduce yourself?

I'm Wyatt Epping - Wybie for friends! I play bass in a rock band with my friends.

- What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

I'm a guy, bi, and not... availa-bly. That was Awful, sorry about that. Not looking to be in a relationship right now, either, I have some healing to do before I'm ready to try again, found that out the hard way.

- Where and when were you born?

We - mom and me that is, assume in Lion's Arch because that's where she found me as a newborn cub some twenty years ago.

- What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

I prefer to not fight, but when I have to, I prefer my staff or greatsword, and an axe for when things get close. My aunt calls me a powerhouse and I'm usually last still on my feet so I guess I'm good at dancing around the danger and hitting hard when I need to.

- Lastly, are you happy?

Yeah. Yeah. Getting there at least! I've gone through some shhhhoot that made me not happy for a long time, but I'm getting there again! Feels good.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

- What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

(Wyatt laughs) I have a big and weird family by a lot of standards. I'm sure you're thinking that Epping doesn't sound like a charr name and you'd be right! I was raised by my mom, Norma, a human woman, in Lion's Arch so I definitely don't have like a charr upbringing, or a charr name even. I also have another mom who's a charr but not the one that birthed me, and a step-sister who's about the same age as me. Then there's my dads who aren't really my dads but kinda are -- it's a long story, but we're happy. Close! I love them very much and am definitely a momma's boy and a family boy.

-Have you ever ran away from home? 

No. Well yeah, when I was like four and mad about something and I got all the way to the other side of the street before running back to hug my mom and cry that I missed her.

-Would you consider marriage or having children? 

Marriage, definitely, with the right person, I -- think I want that, but it's also scary right now. Kids? No thanks. Thought I wanted some, but nah, turned out to be some misplaced emotional shenanigans. Kids are great, but not for me.

-Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

I wouldn't waste time being their friend if I did, I don't think. I can be a polite boy and act civil in any company, but I'm not gonna be friends with someone I don't like. What's the point?

-Which friend knows everything about you? 

Ordell, who is also in the band - he grew up with me and my sister and we were like an inseparable triple trouble trio, and he was kinda like our little brother but not really. Still is the same. He's the kind of friend I can talk about anything with, or just sit quietly, and it's just... comfortable. Cozy.

ASKED BY FANS  

-Are you literate? Have you been to school?

Is this a joke about bassists being dumb? Yeah I'm literate, have been to school in Lion's Arch, and did real good there. I liked school and studying and would work on ballet flexibility while doing my homework; hobbies, no matter how serious, never were more important than learning.

-The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

Hmmm. I don't know if anything like that's happened? My mom used to call me Stormlord because I used to predict thunderstorms and lightning strikes as a kid; does that count? She was amazed that I didn't become an elementalist.

-What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

You know what, PROBABLY a lot of things, but I can't think of an example.

- Do you have mental health or physical issues?

Both, haha... I have seasonal allergies, a permanently injured knee that ended my hopes of dancing professionally, depression that came with THAT, aaaand PTSD from a different kind of trauma. I'm healing, though!

- What is your current main goal?

Just... To have fun! And to get a griffon, that's what I'm working on right now. We'll see, a lot of animals don't like me, and I really don't know why. I think I'm cursed or something. Let me tell you, it's not fun out there when seemingly every animal ever seems to have a personal beef with you, specifically. And I'm not talking about wildlife, I'm talking about cows and chicken and like generally friendly things.

CHOICES:

- Drink or food?

Food, unless my sister made it, in which case probably neither.

-Cats or dogs? 

Both! I grew up with both and currently have both - I have a cat called Silly - Cilantro, really - and a dog called Potato.

-Early bird or night owl? 

A little more of a night owl, I guess, though not really that either. I like sleeping.

-Optimist or pessimist? 

Optimist. Trying to be real hard at least! Mostly it's working!

-Sassy or sarcastic? 

Depends on the day and company I guess. Not a lot of either.

HAVE YOU EVER:

-Been caught sneaking out

No, but sneaking back in, yeah! (Laughs) I'd come home too late from parties or something drunk before I was supposed to be drinking and inevitably mom would catch me because I'd always get sick, or be way noisier than I thought, or, you know, both. I try to not drink enough to get that drunk anymore.

-Broken a bone

Kneecap, yeah, when I goofed my entire knee. Some toes, I think? Amazingly not anything bigger than that though.

-Received flowers

Yeah! From friends and family and dates, and fans too. I like flowers, am very allergic to some of their pollen though, haha!

-Ghosted someone

Well, yeah. Sometimes deservedly, sometimes it's been me panicking and being shitty as a result-- aw rats, there goes a coin in the swear jar... But yeah, I have.

-Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get

Oh for sure. Sometimes I don't have to pretend because I'll just laugh at myself not getting it!

[elyvorg]

So… I was talking about aspec V3 headcanons? Well then, let me lay down the facts.

Maki Harukawa is on the aromantic spectrum. Yes, even though she explicitly develops a crush on Kaito, and no, I’m not trying to dispute that part.

This is basically canon. Let me tell you why.

Maki is aro

For this, we need to consider the conversation Maki has with Shuichi in the first training session in chapter 4, while Kaito has temporarily disappeared to the bathroom. On one level, this conversation exists to be the only actual meaningful indication* that Maki has romantic feelings for Kaito until she goes and confesses them. Someone like Maki wouldn’t care about asking Shuichi if he “liked” Kaede (in that annoying loaded meaning of the word “like” that specifically refers to romantic attraction) unless she was trying to come to terms with the idea that she also “likes” someone else in the same way, and the only plausible candidate for that is Kaito.

But even more striking about this conversation, far more so than the general implication that Maki would only bother asking this if she happened to be crushing on a certain spiky-haired space dork, is the way Maki approaches and thinks about this whole topic in general. Take a look:

Maki:  “Well… I assumed you didn’t, because that would be weird. […] Liking someone you just met… especially in a situation like this…”

Shuichi:  “… Then tell me… under what circumstances is liking someone *not* weird?”

Maki:  “…Huh? I… don’t know. I don’t… really understand what that is.”

I, as an aromantic person myself, fully agree with Maki that it just seems weird to start romantically liking someone you’ve only just met, especially in a life-or-death situation where surely there’s way more important things to be focusing on. But apparently, most people do not find this thought weird at all – love at first sight is supposedly a real thing that can happen, and something something dangerous situations can bring out more hormones and passion???? sounds fake but okay – and so opinions like mine and Maki’s here are very much outliers.

And not only that, not only does the thought of crushing on near-strangers bewilder Maki to the point of disbelief, but she also can’t even come up with an answer to when crushing on someone would ever not be strange and bizarre. Like the whole concept is just alien to her. She can barely even wrap her head around how “liking” someone in that way even works. The very reason she’s even asking Shuichi about this is because she doesn’t understand why she’s feeling this way about Kaito.

This is how an aromantic person would view this kind of thing. It doesn’t sound even slightly like something an alloromantic person would say in this situation. That’s not up for interpretation – that’s just the truth about these views that Maki is expressing. Again: I’m aromantic. I would know.

Even from a character who then does turn out to nonetheless have a crush on someone, these statements are pretty much as canonically confirmed arospec as you can get short of them straight up using the word "aromantic" or a variant.** And, well, obviously Maki isn't about to go calling herself that. From the way she’s questioning this, she clearly doesn’t realise that her perspective is the outlier, so she’s probably never even heard of the term. Besides, she most definitely has way bigger hurdles to be getting over first in terms of her self-acceptance before she's ever going to particularly care about figuring out labels for her orientation of all things.

Aros with trauma are still aros

Now, granted, I severely doubt that Maki being arospec is what the writers intended to convey. Haha, deliberate aro representation in mainstream Japanese media, especially something more complex than vanilla aro, that's a funny joke. What the writers probably meant by writing this conversation I just discussed is to suggest that Maki is viewing things this way a result of her trauma.

But hey, guess what? Even if it is because of her trauma - and I'm not denying that it probably is - that doesn't make Maki any less aro. Some people are arospec because of trauma, and that's equally as valid a reason to be arospec as without. Maybe Maki would have grown up alloromantic if she hadn't been scouted as an assassin, but that's irrelevant, because that's not the Maki who exists now.

In writing this conversation, the writers were presumably attempting to communicate that Maki is so messed up by having been manipulated and abused and moulded into a soulless killing machine that she can no longer comprehend the idea of how or why anybody (especially not herself) would fall in love with someone when they'd only just met, or even really in any circumstances at all. …And in doing that, the writers unintentionally wrote a character who, as a result of her trauma, is aro(-spec). This is an objective fact about the canon story that does not change just because the writers probably weren’t aware enough about aromanticism to actually realise this.

Aros who feel romantic attraction are still aros

So, of course, Maki does in fact come to romantically love Kaito despite this. That fact becomes very important to her, and me lengthily explaining here that she’s actually arospec is not remotely trying to diminish that. But it’s also very important to me that people realise that Maki’s romantic love for Kaito comes from an aromantic perspective. She eventually chooses to embrace those feelings not remotely because it just feels to her like the natural way things should go, but despite every single conscious part of her insisting that this is weird and illogical and doesn’t make any goddamn sense to even be happening at all. She is not going to suddenly fall into all the boring romantic cliches and stereotypical alloromantic approaches to love just because she does in fact happen to be experiencing romantic attraction. There’s nothing alloromantic about Maki’s crush on Kaito.***

As for the specific flavour of arospec that allowed Maki to fall in love with Kaito anyway? This part is somewhat more up for interpretation because there’s no real explicit indication of this in particular, but I personally like to go with the idea that Maki is demiromantic. It feels appropriate for Maki’s character and trauma to imagine that she can only begin to potentially feel romantic things towards a person when she has an emotional connection with them – when she trusts them and knows that they trust her. It doesn’t necessarily have to take very long – she’d only been friends with Kaito for a handful of days before that telling conversation with Shuichi – and she may not even have to have consciously admitted to herself that she trusts them, but she needs to have that bond. She’s normally so guarded and has such strong automatic barriers up during her interpersonal interactions that seeing most people in a romantic light literally isn’t even an option in her brain.

Maki’s confession of her feelings for Kaito does read as rather strongly demiromantic, I think. She makes a point that this is about who Kaito is and what he’s done for her, before even getting to the part where she admits to having fallen for him. And she says she “fell for” him, not that she was always in love with him or anything to that effect. This happened somewhere along the way during their friendship, because of their friendship, and because of Kaito being his incredible trusting supportive self towards her when she needed it most.

Maki Harukawa is demiromantic, and she’s wonderful.

  ---

[some grumpy Amatonormativity and Aro Erasure 101 footnotes, can you tell I am bitter about this kind of thing]

(* When I say “actual meaningful indication” of romantic feelings, I mean something that isn't just the narrative infuriatingly pointing at things that are actually perfectly platonic in nature and going “ooh look how romantic~!”. Newsflash: worrying about somebody and wanting to rescue them when they're sick and injured and have been kidnapped by someone you think is an evil sadistic mastermind is not somehow proof of romantic feelings. That is a thing that friends do. And on the same note, teaching somebody how to build a crossbow is not some kind of deep metaphor for romance; it is literally just a lesson in how to build a goddamn crossbow. Maki would have done both of these things in exactly the same way if her crush on Kaito didn’t exist.)

(** It's exactly like how characters can be considered canonically confirmed same-gender-attracted when all they've done is show attraction to the same gender****, without them actually needing to explicitly refer to themselves with the word “gay”, or “lesbian”, or “bi” or whatever else. Anyone who tried to insist that was necessary in order for it to “count” would instantly be written off as homophobic. So if that’s the case, then a character explicitly saying something such as “I don’t understand what it means to like someone that way” equally constitutes them being confirmed aro, and trying to argue that it doesn’t “count” without outright hearing the word itself is, guess what…?)

(*** This also inherently means that there’s nothing straight about Maki’s crush on Kaito either, since societally-expected “straight” attraction is allo as well as hetero. I gather that some people in this fandom like to devalue and erase Maki’s crush (and potentially also Maki herself) because they feel that it’s an Obligatory Forced Straight Romance and don’t like that, or something along those lines. Well, good news! It’s literally not that, actually, because Maki isn’t straight.)

(**** …This only applies so long as it actually is very clearly romantic or sexual attraction and not just people deciding platonic affection is totally romantic thanks to the disease that is amatonormativity. Because, you know. That happens. Literally all the time. (Even from V3’s narrative itself; see footnote 1.))

[nhlandotherimagines]

Matthew Tkachuk always seems to be around when you injure yourself, fall over or break something. He never lets you forget it either. So the endless chirping leads you to have a meltdown because you think he finds any reason to pick on you and it makes you feel like a child (who he would never be interested in). The dumbass with his stupid smirk would just be like, "oh so you want me to be interested in you?"

This took me WAAAAAY too long and I apologize! I hope you enjoy this one, it is certainly not the greatest, but it is something! I would love to hear everyone’s feedback on it thanks! Thanks @bigboigritty for the request

The Tease - Matthew Tkachuk x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, and some angst

Notes: (Y/l/n): your last name Also this isn’t very long I am sorry!

You weren’t exactly what one would describe as graceful. In fact, you were down right clumsy. It’s as if your body did everything in it’s power to work against your mind, forever making you look like a fool.

It probably wouldn’t bother you so much if your best friend, Calgary Flames defenseman Noah Hanifan, and his teammates weren’t around every time you managed to make a fool of yourself.

Today had been a good day so far, but as you made your way up the stairs to Noah’s apartment your luck caught up with you. Missing a step, you stumble forward catching yourself before you smash your face into the stairs.

Sure your face was saved. Your white shirt and iced coffee however? Not so much.

“Oh for f-“

“Easy there (y/l/n)! That’s why we save the coffee for the adults.”

Rolling your eyes, you glare at the man coming up the steps behind you.

“And I suppose you’re supposed to be one of those adults?”

Matthew Tkachuk sure knew how to get under your skin. Every chance he got to make you feel small he took. He never failed to comment about your clumsiness, and your child-like behaviours. The worst was the more upset you got about his teasing the easier it was for him to tease you.

Matthew chuckled lightly as he placed his right hand on your arm and his left on the small of your back, helping you to your feet. You can’t help the blush that creeps onto your face from the feeling of his hands against you.

See the thing is, ever since you first laid eyes on Matthew you knew you were screwed. I guess you just had a thing for intimidating hockey men with beautiful blue eyes and curly hair. It was very clear though, that he didn’t look at you like that at all. To him you were like that annoying little cousin your mom would make you hangout with at family gatherings. His teasing was relentless.

“Ugh my shirt!” You wine rubbing at your new white shirt now stained with coffee.

“It’s just a shirt, don’t be a baby about it.”

You scoff at Matthew, pulling away from him and finishing your ascent to Noah’s apartment. As you push through the door the party has already started.

“Noah please tell me you have a shirt I can borrow!” You whine. Foregoing any formal greetings when you find your friend leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Nice to see you too,” Noah chuckles taking in your appearance. He throws his hands up in surrender at the look you shoot him. “Go take your pick!” He smiles motioning to his bedroom with the beer bottle in his hand.

You mumble a quick thank you, and run into his room closing the door behind you.

After pulling your shirt from your body with a pout you begin searching Noah’s dresser for a shirt that wouldn’t look completely ridiculous on you.

You’re so focused on finding the perfect shirt, you don’t here the door open.

“Jesus kid put some clothes on!”

You jump back clutching a random shirt over your chest.

“Matthew what the hell!?”

“Easy there tiger! Just came to see if you were alright.”

“You’re not my babysitter Matthew, so if you could just leave me the hell alone that’d be great” you spat, turning away from him and pulling a shirt on over your head. Trying to steady your breath, cheeks bright from embarrassment, you turn back towards him and start moving towards the door.

As you try to storm past him without making eye contact, you fail to notice the shirt you dropped on the floor when Matt startled you. You fly forward rolling your ankle, but instead of hitting the floor Matthew steps forward and you fall into his chest.

His hands find your waist to steady you. If it weren’t for the throbbing of your ankle, you might have been embarrassed about falling into Matthew. You may have even been able to appreciate his hands on you, but all you manage to do is hold back the whimper.

“See I think you need a babysitter.” Matthew chuckles, a cocky grin on his face. You immediately push away from him, wincing as you are forced to put some weight on your ankle.

“Fuck off Matthew! I’m sick of you treating me like a child! We are practically the same age! I’m just so done with you being an asshole to me all the time! I get it okay? So you’re not into me, because I’m not as cool and put together as all the other girls you have falling all over you. Oh well, I’ll get over it. But you need to stop treating me like I’m lesser than you and all of your pretty little super model friends okay? I’m clumsy! Get over it! You making fun of me doesn’t fucking help, so just leave me alone!”

Matt’s surprised by your outburst, but the more you ramble on the bigger his grin becomes. He raises his eyebrows at you, as if to ask if you’re done with your little temper tantrum. The cockiness he holds in that moment makes your blood boil even more.

“Oh- so you want me to be interested in you?” His question makes your stomach flip, realizing exactly what you had implied. Matthew’s face shows only amusement, but you can’t help the embarrassment that covers your own.

“I- I never said t-that” you stutter out trying to find something, anything, to say to dig yourself out of this hole.

“Hmm, no actually I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you said.” Matthew chirps taking a step closer. You step back again, heart feeling as though it’s about to burst out of your chest. Stumbling slightly as pain shoots through your ankle, a whimper escapes your lips.

Matt’s hands find your hips again, and when you look up you see the amusement is gone from his face. Replaced now by worry. “Are you okay?”

“N-no my ankle. God Matty it hurts!” You hate how desperate your voice sounds, but you can’t help it you’re in pain.

He guides you to sit on the bed, motioning for you to let him take a look at your ankle. As he inspects it, you chew on your bottom lip and watch in amazement at Matthew’s gentle side. His fingers leaving feather light touches over your ankle, as his brows furrow in concentration.

“Looks like a sprain to me. (Y/n), I’m sorry.” His eyes lock with yours and your breath catches in your throat.

“I-it’s not your fault.” You choke out quietly, as he moves himself to sit gently next to you.

“You’re wrong you know?”

“No I’m not! Matt it’s not like you tripped me!” You couldn’t believe he was trying take the blame here, when obviously it was you who was just clumsy.

“No, not about that. You’re wrong about why I tease you so much.” He pauses taking a deep breath, and combing his fingers through his curls. You watch him closely, trying not to get to distracted by the flex of his biceps as he does so. “I tease you because I am into you!”

He’s staring at his hands as the fidget in his lap, and you’re at a loss for words.

“Matt- I-“ you try to respond, but this moment feels strange. Like any second he will tell you it’s some sick joke, and call you a child.

Instead he lifts his eyes to meet yours. He looks scared, as he tries to read your emotions. But truth be told, you had no idea what to feel. Your head was spinning, your heart screaming, and your hands shaking. You open your mouth to speak again, and nothing comes out. Why were you so awkward!?

His eyes fall to your lips, and your body reacts all on its own. Despite your brain screaming at you to run. Unlike the other times your body works against your brain, this time it’s in a good way. Your eyes fall closed and you lean into him.

As Matthew’s lips connected to yours, you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Feeling him smile against you, you deepen the kiss just a little. Everything felt perfect for a moment. You weren’t just some girl Matthew liked to pick on. Right now, I’m this moment, you were his. And it felt so right.

“Wow. Why did I take so long to do that?” Matthew breathes out, as he pulls away.

“You were too busy being an asshole?” You suggest, chuckling softly.

“Hey now! I just wanted you to notice me!” He laughed at how ridiculous it sounded saying it aloud.

“Oh, so you want me to be interested in you?” You say with a wink. Matthew throws his head back and laughs at your comment. Who knew this asshole was really such a sweetheart?

[pips-fics]

ask: Hi can you write something with Changbin having a really bad stomach ache, but he tries to hide it and Jeongin finds out and takes care of him?

tw: glass/injury/blood/accidental injury, vomiting

@anon: if any of these triggers bother you, please tell me and let me write you a brand new, trigger-safe fic!  if it doesn’t bother you, then please enjoy the fic :)

changbin had always liked being the reliable member of a group of friends.  he felt that he had been granted many blessings in his life, and rarely required real assistance from those around him.  as a result, he was able to frequently offer his own assistance to those he cared about, without asking anything in return.  doing so had always made him happy - but occasionally, he didn’t feel so steady.  occasionally, he felt like he was walking a tightrope with far too much slack to manage.  occasionally, he felt like even attempting to stay balanced was futile, and he’d fall 500 feet to the ground and take all of his friends with him.

still, he would try his best.

if that meant going about his day as though everything was normal when his stomach seemed to be caving in on itself, then so be it.

he pushed through practice and was proud that no one noticed anything was off.  he pushed through dinner and ignored the irony of the pig jokes thrown his way, when even forcing himself to eat the bare minimum was a challenge.  he went to bed early and no one seemed to notice that, either.  he hoped that his luck would continue and he’d feel better in the morning.

unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.  he woke up at the ungodly hour of 7 am with hands that shook so bad, it made him sick to look at them.  or maybe he was just sick, in general.

changbin hated being sick.  not just because it was always physically miserable, but also because he hated not being able to perform his best.  it was with a desperate inkling of hope that he forced himself to the kitchen for a glass of water.  maybe it would settle his stomach.  maybe magic really did exist.  he didn’t care - he just didn’t want to fall off his tightrope.  he didn’t need to distract his members when they were trying their best to balance, too.

instead he dropped his glass of water because all the steadiness was make believe and he was way to shaky and the glass shattered on the floor.  changbin sunk to the ground, as if falling with it, and thought maybe he could pick it all up before any of his members saw what happened.  he picked up a few pieces before he realized how stupid that was and felt the pain - sharp, in contrast with his aching stomach - just as jeongin found him.

“hyung!  what happened?”

changbin’s brain had decided to take a time out.  he stared at his hand dumbly until blood started pouring over his wounds, and he felt his face crumble.

“i’m sorry,” he said, overwhelmed with pain, gasping for air.  his hands were still shaking.  “i didn’t— i didn’t mean to wake you up, i didn’t mean it.  i’ll clean it up.”  he meant it as a dismissal; jeongin should know that he didn’t need to stay here, he could leave and go about his day.

instead, he came closer and grabbed changbin’s hands.  steadied them.  changbin took a deep breath.  “i’m okay,” he insisted, because jeongin had better things to do.

“changbin-hyung,” jeongin scolded, “don’t lie.  at least let me clean your cut.”

changbin sniffled.  he couldn’t help it.  he didn’t want his wound cleaned.  it would hurt - and he was already in so much pain.  he whimpered, and his uninjured hand drifted to his stomach.  jeongin noticed.

“are you sick?  your hands are shaking a lot.”

changbin shuddered, suddenly feeling his sickness more now that someone else had acknowledged it.  he nodded reluctantly.

“do you feel nauseous?”

another slow nod.  jeongin made a sympathetic sound.  “can you walk to the couch?  if you lean on me?”

“i– i think so.”  changbin was hesitant to move at all, but he felt moderately better once he was away from the mess he’d made, and the couch was much more gentle than the floor had been on his sore skin.  he leaned against the cushions, feeling the tension drain out of him for the first time in over 24 hours.

it didn’t last long.  soon, jeongin was back with cleaning solution - and a large mixing bowl.  changbin eyed it with disgust.  jeongin offered him an apologetic smile and a shrug.  “just in case.”

he gestured for changbin’s hand and cradled it gently.  he hummed thoughtfully as he prepared the    “hyung, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

changbin avoided meeting the younger boy’s eyes.  like a coward.  “i didn’t want to bother you guys.”

“what do you mean bother us?  is it a bother for you when you help felix with his korean or when you teach jisung and i how to work out?”

changbin’s head snapped up.  “no!”  the cleaning solution burned and he sucked in a breath, breathing shallowly until the pain faded, and the nausea along with it.  he shook his head.  “no, of course not.”

jeongin nodded.  “we want to help you, too, hyung.  you’re not alone.”

as jeongin got up to get a wet washcloth, changbin thought about that.  it was true; he wasn’t alone.  of course he wasn’t the only one who liked helping.  maybe he’d only just shaken their shared tightrope - and the others were strong enough to reach out their hands to keep him from falling.

it was a nice thought, but he couldn’t entertain it for long.  changbin’s stomach lurched threatening and he had to scramble for the bowl while gingerly avoiding his injured hand.  by the time jeongin returned, changbin was blinking back tears of exertion and coughing strands of bile into a puddle of sick.

“oh no,” jeongin mumbled.  he rushed forward and took changbin’s injured hand again, holding it steady and safe.  “it’s okay, hyung, let it out.”

changbin didn’t have much of a choice, it turned out.  his hand twitched painfully as his body tensed up.  he felt like some sort of miserable puppet, sitting there with his stomach wringing itself inside out, hand and arm limp but supported by jeongin.  it was an uncomfortable ordeal.

by the time he was done, changbin’s muscles were shot.  he slumped back against the couch and let jeongin clean his face, and then finish washing the cuts on his hand.  some part of changbin’s mind was embarrassed, but a very small part, and, currently, a very quiet one.

everything, suddenly, felt quiet.  not in a creepy way - the kind of quiet that comes when a previously unnoticed grating noise comes to a halt.  it’s a bit louder, in the dorm, actually - some of the other members are waking now.  but changbin’s mind is peaceful, jeongin’s gentle reassurances like the cool cloth on his skin, soothing him into a comfortable slumber.

——

feel free to send more asks! | rules

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[anightflower]

Come and Find Me Chapter 4: The Andrew Curtis Case

Guys I am so sorry this took so long. On top of school kicking my ass, I had to rewrite and reedit this chapter several times until I got to one that I deemed worthy. I am going to try and post Chapter Five early for you guys if I can. 

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Rape, Abuse

Masterlist 

Spencer glanced around the room at all the police officers assembled. He cleared his throat. 

“The Unsub is a white male in his late 20s to mid-30s. He is a man with an average build and a friendly face, someone who women would not pose as a threat.”

“Since there were no signs of forced entry, we believe he’s posing as someone who women would let into their house. Classic cases of this include maintenance men there to check up on things, someone who needs help after their car broke down, or a similar case like that.” Emily explained. “This is a man who fakes confidence, but in reality views himself as inadequate in some way, he knows he can’t fight off another man, so he chooses women who live alone and are essentially defenseless.” 

“Yet, he hates that they are successful enough to support themselves or that they have any sort of power.” Morgan chimed in.

“He clearly was cheated on or had some sort of marital issue that caused him to spiral into this spree. He is a sexual sadist projecting his partner onto the women he attacks, that’s why he chokes them, watching the life drain from their eyes sparks something in him and gives him a sense of power. That is also why he rapes his victims, he loves the idea that he is all powerful and they are helpless.” Hotch explained. 

Spencer swallowed, “Comparing his last four victims it seems his type is 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/C/E).” 

Which coincidentally looks like the love of my life. Spencer thought, repressing a shudder.

________________________________________________________________

Spencer starred in shock at the scene around him. He was just finishing up the geographical profile, when they had received a call about yet another body. 

Her empty bulking eyes stared up at the ceiling, her body was beaten, cut, and bruised. 

“Strangulation marks on her neck, multiple stab wounds and injuries, this looks like our unsub.” Emily resisted the urge to shudder. 

“Man, whoever cheated on this guy, must have really broken him.” Morgan mused, looking around at the bloody scribblings on the wall. 

Spencer knew that if they tested the blood on the wall, it would match the victims. He looked at the frames on the wall, trying to ignore the blood that seemed to coat everything. The victim had her diploma hung up and multiple pictures of her smiling with family or friends. Spencer stared hard at the name on the diploma; Adria Winston.

It scared Spencer how easily he could see you in this woman’s place. Injured, dying, pleading for him, for anyone to save you-

“Reid. Reid, are you alright?” Morgan clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder, drawing him back to the present. 

Spencer shook himself out of his dazed state. “Yeah, uh I just need to step out for a second.” He said, pushing past Morgan and making his way outside Adria’s house. He pulled out his phone and dialed your number, it was late, so you would most likely be asleep, but-

You picked up on the third ring. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Spencer bit back a smile at the sleepiness in your voice.

“Not really, but I just really needed to hear your voice. How is Ohio?” Spencer asked, trying to distract himself from what he just saw. You could tell, but you played along with it. 

“Not too bad, whoever designed the Google lounge has nothing on me.” You joked. 

“Well, we already knew that.” Spencer smiled. 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe some of the cool stuff I found, I’m telling you if the employees complain about these amazing comfy chairs I got for their break room, I am totally coming back and stealing all 22 of them for my apartment.” You said enthusiastically. “They're perfect for reading in Spence, I’m telling you, you would love them.” 

Spencer let out a little laugh, “I’m sure they are. We will have to see if we can find some, but I don’t think 22 will fit in either of our apartments.” 

“I suppose you’re right” You sighed dramatically, but then took a more serious tone of voice. “Are you alright baby?” 

Spencer’s chest tightened at your worried tone of voice. “There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, swallowing back tears. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.” 

“Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood. 

Spencer let out a small laugh and sniffled. “Trust me the team is going to love you. We will have to figure out when you can meet them, but I definitely want to wait until things settle down a bit here.” 

There was silence on your end for a second. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.” 

Spencer heart skipped a beat, as much as he wanted you safe and sound, he also needed to hold you in his arms to keep his sanity. But ultimately you were the one who should lead your life, not Spencer.  “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.” 

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.” 

Spencer could have sworn his heart stopped. The two of you hadn’t said I love you yet. Part of him wished it was in person, but just hearing you say it, meant the world to him. “I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

So help him god, Spencer would catch whoever this unsub was and put him away, so you could come home to a safer city. 

________________________________________________________________

“You know what strikes me as funny?” Emily asked, looking at the crime scene photos. 

The room was silent, waiting to hear what she had to say. 

“Each of these unsubs reported strange gifts and letters being sent to their home. The police had thought it was nothing, but now I am thinking that maybe this could be a connection. I mean think about it, didn’t you guys notice that each victim received a gift box wrapped the exact same way?” 

Morgan nodded. “Yeah they had the white box with the red bow-”

Spencer chimed in, “Red typically symbolizes love and infatuation, but in this case it was the unsub’s warning, red meant war or violence was about to come upon this victim.” 

“Reid and JJ I want you to talk to the officers and get the reports these women filed for harassment, I think we are missing a connection.” Hotch ordered. 

An hour or so later they had that connection.  

“All of the victims received their gifts from a delivery service called ‘Special Delivery.’” JJ explained to everyone. 

“Well it seems we have to pay them a visit.” Hotch said. 

________________________________________________________________

Special Delivery was a small Ma and Pa store, located just a couple blocks from Ava’s coffee shop. Spencer debated on stopping in to check in with her and maybe grab the team coffee. 

Spencer had quickly taken a liking to Ava, not only because he had called him your “sexy superhero boyfriend,” but because she was a reliable friend to you, one who always managed to bring a smile to your face. She reminded Spencer of a more wild Emily, in the best way possible.

Emily stopped outside the storefront window, glancing at the display of chocolates, gift baskets, and jewelry. “Why is it always the cute small places that get ruined? Can’t it be one of those big corporate offices that fuck over their employees instead?” 

Spencer huffed a laugh. 

As they entered the store, the bell let out a delicate twinkle. Causing a silver-streaked brunette to pop out from the back of the store. Her round face held a warm smile as she approached them. 

“Hello dears! What can I do for you?” She asked as she excitedly clasped her hands together.

“Hello Mrs. Ellison, my name is SSA Prentiss and this is Dr. Reid, we had a few questions for you.” Emily said gently, flashing her badge to the woman. 

The woman's smile dimmed a bit, “Oh, uh of course, is everything alright?” 

“Mrs. Ellison I am sure you’ve heard of the recent tragedies-” Emily began, 

“Oh yes, I’ve been keeping up with the news, it’s just dreadful that something so horrible could happen so close to home. You see these things in movies or in other places, but you just never expect them to happen right near you.” Mrs. Ellison said sorrowfully, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Mrs. Ellison, I am afraid everyone of these victims received several deliveries from your shop. Each was wrapped exactly the same, white box, red bow, does this ring any bells for you?” Spencer asked, cutting to the chase. 

“Well dear, it is Valentine season, red, pink, and white are the typical go to colors.” She shrugged. 

“Do you have any regulars? He would have each gift he bought wrapped the exact same way? He would seem friendly, but would be on the quieter side?” Emily asked, attempting to prod the older woman’s memory. 

“I’m afraid none of that is ringing any bells dear, I am so sorry.” Mrs. Ellison said apologetically. 

“Do you have any other employees? Or do you run this place all by yourself?” Spencer asked. 

Mrs. Ellison, let out a small laugh, “Oh goodness me, no. I get so many orders, I could never do it by myself. I previously had three employees, Jess, Remy, and Andrew, but I had to fire Andrew when I found him stealing from our stock. It was a shame too, he was a hardworking boy, but I’m afraid he just fell apart after his wife left him.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a quick glance. “Do you happen to know why his wife left him?” Spencer asked, his heart picking up speed. 

“Oh it's not my business to share-” Mrs. Ellison hesitated. 

“Please Mrs. Ellison, this could be crucial information.” Emily urged her. 

Mrs. Ellison let out a sigh. “That horrible girl cheated on him. I just couldn’t understand it either, Drew was such a doting gentleman to her, it simply didn’t make sense.” 

“Do you still have his contact information? His address?” 

“Why of course, but you couldn’t possibly think he has anything to do with this-” Mrs. Ellison began, making her way to behind the counter to grab a binder. She looked up worried when Spencer and Emily didn’t answer right away. “Do you?” She urged. 

“It’s quite possible he had nothing to do with it, we just need to follow through with every angle.” Emily quickly explained. 

“Of course.” Mrs. Ellison said, but her hands slightly shook as she opened up her binder to get Andrew’s address. 

________________________________________________________________

“Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, open up.” Hotch hollered from outside the door. There was no response. Hotch looked to his team to make sure they were ready, then kicked in the door. 

As the team checked different rooms, several calls of “Clear!” echoed throughout the house. Curtis was not there. 

Morgan made his way to the basement and swallowed back a gag. “Hotch! You better come see this.” 

Guns at the ready, Spencer, Hotch, Rossi, and Emily, made their way down to Morgan. 

“What the hell.” Emily huffed as they all beheld the horrific sight before them. 

It was a girl, for sure. She had the same mutilated marks as far as they could tell, but her body was decently decayed. 

“He’s displaying her like a trophy.” Spencer observed. “He props her up naked and makes sure her wounds are fully on display to remind him what he did.”

“There’s more trophies over here.” Rossi said in disgust, gesturing to a shelf full of different valuables. 

“He’s sick.” Morgan hissed. 

“We need a med team down here to remove a body. As soon as it’s IDed we need to know and alert any next of kin.” Hotch ordered into his earpiece. 

Rossi put on a glove and began to go through the other trophies for evidence. “I’ll talk to the victims families and see if any of them recognize these items.” 

Morgan dialed up Garcia. 

“Speak and be heard, the all-knowing goddess listens.” 

“Hey baby girl, I need you to look up any missing person’s reports from around this area. The victim has (y/c/h) and (y/c/e). She fits our victimology to a t, but we need to figure out who she is.”

“I’m on it.” Garcia said. 

“And Garcia,” Hotch said, stopping her before she hung up. “I need you to find a license plate for Andrew Curtis. Also check to see if he rents or owns any other property, he’s currently not at his home and it is too close to other buildings for his victims to not be heard.” 

“You got it. Talk soon.” She said, hanging up. 

About half an hour later Garcia got back to them. “Curtis drives a 2003 silver sedan with the license plate 637-IRT. I also found that he rents a small storage unit that’s a 20 minute drive in a more secluded part of town. I am sending the address to you guys now.” 

“Thanks Garcia.” Hotch said. He turned to JJ “I need you to get an APB on Curtis. I want you to warn the public to keep an eye out for him.” 

JJ nodded and rushed off with her phone. Hotch looked to the rest of the team. “Everyone else, vests on, we are heading to that storage unit.”

________________________________________________________________

“Fuck Drew, what are we going to do?” The boy asked as he looked at the screen projecting a news report on Andrew Curtis.

“Well, it might be the end for me, little brother, but I have you as my legacy. They don’t have a clue that you are even involved, so I need you to get out of here.”

“No, no, no. I am not going to leave you!” The Boy cried, tears streaming down his face. 

Drew huffed a laugh. “Now, now, little bro. It isn’t the time for tears. I’ve taught you everything you need to know. You need to get your girl from that Doctor remember?”

“How am I supposed to do this without you?” The Boy asked, fear filled his voice. 

“Your time will come. You have to be a man about this. You have the skills now and you have our little videos to watch. Your own little tutorial to pluck that girl right out of Dr. Reid’s hands. You need to hide those and hide them well. Promise me you won’t fuck up your chance.” Drew growled. 

The Boy whimpered and Drew smacked him. “Promise me!” He yelled. 

“I promise.” The Boy sobbed, grabbing at his pained cheek.

Drew’s face softened and he gave the boy a smile. “Good, now get out of here legacy and make me proud. I expect to see you on the news someday.” He winked. “You remember our code right?” 

The boy nodded. 

“Then this isn’t the last time we will speak to each other. Now get the fuck out of here, I already fucked with the security footage, so they won’t even know you were here.” Drew explained, pushing the boy out towards the parking lot. 

The Boy’s heart broke as he rushed from his mentor, not only because he knew he would never be able to see Drew in person after this, but because he knew that he would never be able to ruin the 6th victim. The sixth whore that was tied up in the trunk of Drew’s car. 

________________________________________________________________

The girl sobs were muffled by her gag. Drew pulled on her hair harder as he dragged her to the storage unit. He knew he didn’t have much time left, so he might as well let every moment count huh?

The girl’s sobs turned into terrified screams as she beheld the bloodied storage room and the various knives and devices within it. 

“Shut up you stupid bitch.” He growled in her ear.

The girl whimpered something and Drew ripped away her gag. 

“Please.” She begged and Drew simply laughed as he lugged her limp body towards the table in the center of the room.

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I have a family who cares about me-” She pleaded. 

“Whores don’t have families. Whores have nothing. They just cheat and lie and move onto the next guy. Huh Madelyn?” He growled as he threw her up onto the table.

“My name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily-” The girl sobbed.

“Enough of your lies Madelyn. You stupid slut. You couldn’t stay loyal could you?” Drew snarled, hitting the girl’s head hard against the table.

She sobbed harder. “My name is Emily, my name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily.” She babbled.

“SHUT UP.” He said, hitting her again.

Suddenly a shout rose up from outside the storage unit door. “Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, come out with your hands raised.” 

The smile that crept across Drew’s face was wicked. He grabbed a knife and pulled Emily against him. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He whispered in her ear. 

“Andrew Curtis, this is your last warning. We will come in armed and ready.” Hotch’s voice shouted again. 

Drew remained where he was, the sick smile on his face, as tears streamed down Emily’s face. 

When the door burst open and several agents poured in, he did not flinch or cower away. 

“Drop the weapon.” Hotch boomed, his voice echoing in the space.

“Now, now, now, where would the fun be in that?” Drew mocked. 

“Put down the weapon, Curtis and let the girl go.” Rossi ordered. 

Drew’s eyes looked past all of them and fell on Spencer, he bit back a smile.

“Come any closer and I’ll slice her throat.” Drew threatened, pressing the knife harder to Emily’s throat, a few drops of crimson blossomed and crept down her neck.

“If you don’t let Miss Bloise go, then we will be forced to take action Mr. Curtis.” Rossi explained.

Drew’s hand shook, god he wanted them to come at him, but then he thought of his mentee, how lost he would be without him. 

He lowered the knife and let the girl go. She ran towards one of the agents, tears mixing with the blood that ran down her neck. JJ wrapped an arm around the girl and guided her out. 

Morgan rushed to Curtis, pinning him down against the floor and putting cuffs around his wrists. 

Though they had caught him, Hotch felt uneasy. Curtis had given in too quickly. The greasy smile across Curtis’s face as Morgan led him away only heightened his suspicions. 

________________________________________________________________

The team sat outside the interrogation room, watching as Hotch tried to get a rise out of Andrew Curtis. He and JJ had gone in; Hotch to be the intimidator, JJ to be the trigger as she looked a bit similar to the victims. So far the man had just sat in the chair, his arms crossed, silent and smirking. It had been almost an hour and they had gotten nothing out of him.

Spencer felt as though Curtis could see him through the two-way mirror. 

“You know Agent,” Curtis began. “I know you’re trying to be the big bad wolf, but it’s not going to work, I’ve dealt with worse than you.”

Morgan looked about ready to kick in the door and beat the confession out of Andrew. 

“Send me in, I’ll get an answer out of him” Morgan growled, cracking his knuckles.

“Unfortunately, the confession won’t stand up in court if they found out you beat the shit out of Curtis to get it” Emily smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“The Court doesn’t have to know” Morgan argued, making Emily scoff. 

“Focus kids.” Rossi ordered sternly, but Spencer could tell he was fighting back a small smile. 

Hotch and JJ came out of the room. Hotch looked to Spencer, his expression grim. “He wants to talk with you.”

Spencer looked at Hotch confused, “Why me?”

“He’s ‘fascinated by you’” Hotch explained. “I know it’s not ideal and you don’t have to go in their Reid, but-”

“But, we could get the confession out of him. We have the charges for Miss Bloise, but we want to pin him for the other girls he attacked. I understand and I will do it.” Spencer said. 

“I’ll stick with you Spence” JJ reassured, putting a hand on his arm. “You won’t be alone.”

Spencer nodded, sending a grateful look JJ’s way as they made their way into the interrogation room.

“Ah the elusive doctor. So glad you could join us.” Drew purred.

Spencer said nothing as he moved to sit down across from Curtis.

“-your wife left you Mr. Curtis, is that correct?” JJ asked.

“Please doll, a pretty thing like you can call me Drew” Drew said, looking JJ up and down. 

Spencer’s fists clenched in anger as he felt JJ tense next to him.

“The file says she left you after she cheated on you. Did you have medical issues Mr. Curtis?” Reid asked, drawing Curtis’s attention to him. “Did you struggle to please your own wife?”

Curtis growled. “That stupid whore has nothing to do with this.” 

“Ah so you couldn’t and when she left you for a man that could, you projected your anger for her onto these women. You were angry at them for being confident and independent, much like your wife who knew what she wanted.” Spencer said, sitting back in his chair with a faint smirk. 

“These women were nothing but whores, willing to let men in like me. They wanted someone so badly they let a stranger into their house.” Curtis hissed.

“Mr. Curtis, you were a delivery man. They didn’t let you in, you forced your way into their homes didn’t you?”

“If a man needs a glass of water, can’t he let himself in?” Curtis purred. “They turned their backs on a predator and got what was coming to them.” 

“Did you attack them in their homes?” JJ asked. 

“Only to make them quiet, couldn’t have the neighbors hear them scream.” Curtis laughed and Spencer resisted the urge to choke out the man across from him. 

They placed images of all of his supposed victim’s before him. “Do you recognize these women?” JJ asked, her voice harsh and cold. 

Curtis looked over all of them, silent for a couple minutes. Spencer’s patience thinned. “Well?” 

Curtis pointed to an image of Lila Jennings, the third victim of this case. “She screamed the loudest.” He pointed to another image. “She was a hot piece of ass, it was fun breaking her.” 

“Enough.” Spencer hissed. 

“In short Doctor, yes I do recognize these women. Every single one of them and no I do not regret a single one.”

Without saying another word, JJ and Spencer got up, taking the files with them. Curtis’s laughter rang out behind them as they shut the door.

________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty @generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox @anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn  @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz​ @rainsong01 @goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog @secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi​ @iifloweringnightsii @mggsprettygirl​ @bravegirl221​ @messyhairday-me​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​ @abbeypaw7​ @findmedontlooseme @hiiwouldlikesomesleepplease @sarcasticsagittarius1998

[janekfan]

Famished

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145478

This was ridiculous.

Perhaps the drink was making him more foolishly in love than usual because he couldn’t stop staring at him and when Jon looked back in turn, he tried to memorize every feature: the delicate flush high in his face, a lazy half-smile, the comfortably loose way he’d unspooled on the couch next to Martin, knee just a scant centimeter from his own.

He was beautiful like this.

“Martin.” Jon set his glass aside, knitting his brows in concern in the most adorable way. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course, Jon. I.” He looked away, cheeks hot, having been caught in his not so subtle gawking. “I was. You.” He laughed softly. “I was looking at you.” Jon’s face went bright red and he blinked furiously, ducking his head and peering up at Martin through long lashes briefly before darting away.

Adorable.

They spent a few more moments in easy quiet, listening to the fire burn down in the hearth, the crackling and popping providing punctuation to the unspoken conversation between them before Jon breached it.

“M’Martin?” There was something uneasy in his tone now, in the way he traced Perry’s scar on his palm. In his far-away eyes fixed on the flames licking their way over the logs.

“Jon?” And when that gaze turned upon him, ceaseless and unblinking and awash with damp fear, Martin felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Am I? Did I?” He swallowed, trembling, staring back into the conflagration. “Come back wrong?”

“What?” Martin’s pulse jumped, sped up, because what did he mean wrong? “What do you mean?" And he was so afraid of the answer. Things were good. Nice, even. Since they were currently not running for their lives but in fact experiencing a little downtime.

“Did you kn’know.” Horrified, Martin watched his bottom lip begin to quiver. Watched him bite it hard enough to leave marks to get it to stop before his tongue darted out to lick over the imprints of his teeth. He chuffed a laugh, a sad, awful little thing, and Martin could see his misty eyes glowing bright. “Kn’kn’know that Georgie wished I had died? R’rather than wake up?”

“What?” Rage, disbelief. And Jon flinched back, tears spilling over now with the sudden movement, like it was he who’d done something wrong and, no, no, no he hadn’t. This was all Martin’s fault because he knew Jon wouldn’t have told him this if he hadn’t (accidentally) gotten him drunk. If not for this moment, chances are he’d have kept it all to himself, locked up inside behind his intricate maze of walls. Martin was sick; he and Georgie became a little bit closer during the six months Jon was away. He knew her as kind, as someone who was there for Jon when he couldn’t be. Had hoped that while he was in the Lonely--

Jon still had someone on his side.

He knew little of the choice Jon had been given at the time. But he knew it was either come back. Or don't. And he was so, so grateful he’d chosen to come back to him.

“She’s right, isn’t she? I, I, I woke up. Twisted? I’m wrong, Martin.” The way he choked on the word made his heart ache. He’d drawn into himself again, the cozy sprawl from before tucked back inside like it never existed in the first place, limbs folded around the most sensitive parts of him and Martin felt at once like he was trying to soothe a wild and injured animal.

“No, no, Jon. Of course not.”

“But--” he sobbed.

“Georgie’s the one who’s wrong.”

“It hurt, Martin. To, to choose.” Now the tears came steady, slipping down his thin, scarred face, collecting on his chin until his quivering got the better of them. “Should I have died?” He was whispering, muttering, thinking out loud to himself and much too deep in his own head right now. “How could I have chosen wrong?”

“Choosing to live, to survive, is not wrong.”

“But.” The way he sounded, so. Defeated. As though he’d done the analysis and come up with enough evidence to fill a very large book. And Martin himself was probably in the footnotes.

“No, Jon. No.”

“I hurt people. You. Georgie. Melanie. Oh, god, Tim, Sasha.” He was spiraling, rocking back and forth minutely and to see him so undone broke something inside of Martin. It had taken Jon so long to let anyone close, to accept help, and when he was ready, when he needed it most, no one wanted anything to do with him.

“You didn’t trap them at the Institute.” But hadn’t Tim implied exactly that? Blamed Jon for all that went wrong and then some, as if he’d had any more information than the rest of them. And then died without granting him forgiveness? All this time--how heavy was that to carry?

“I don’t want to hurt people, Martin. I never wanted to hurt anyone.” His rambling was muffled behind both hands as they hid his face, syllables gasping and breathless, hyperventilating.

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t need this.”

“It’s alright.” Jon was constantly pale and exhausted, his hands already shook most of the time. He was starving without statements and refused to let Martin help him.

“Should I.” He lowered his hands, clasped them over his mouth and the stricken anguish in his face made tears sting the corners of Martin’s eyes. “I should let it take the rest of me.” Martin wished he hadn’t strained so hard to hear what sounded far too close to an epiphany for comfort.

“Jon.” Frantic, panting, his damp eyes searched his and Martin found himself shaking his head, because he knew what was coming next.

“Would you. Would you stay?” Mouth pressed into a line, gathering courage. “I w’wouldn’t ask, I, just.” When he closed his eyes he looked so vulnerable, so small, and Martin just wanted to wrap him up and take him away from here, to protect him from even himself. “It h’urts.” Whispered, a confession exhaled on a breath of hopeful air. “It’s been a long time so. So it--”

“Stop.” The change was like quicksilver; wretched mortification flooding into his expression at the thought that he’d miscalculated and he tried to backpedal.

“S’sorry.” Shame and embarrassment, like he’d done something dreadful by sharing even a fraction of what he kept bottled up inside.

“It makes me upset to hear you talk like this.”

“Of course.” He sounded so guilty. “I. I shouldn’t have. I apologize, Martin.” Immediately Jon’s face closed off and he was so good at it, at sliding the mask over his face so smoothly, Martin realized no one in his life ever wanted to hear. He hazarded a guess that Georgie hadn’t either.

“Jon. I didn’t mean. I want you to come to me when you feel like this. Always.”

“But.” He was hugging himself tightly, guarded. Exhausted. Cheeks tear-stained and eyes rimmed red, underscored with deep purple bruises.

“I want you. The thought of. Of watching you hurt like that. Hurt more.” He smiled sadly. “No, Jon. I need you.” Martin didn’t remind him that Elias had all the time in the world to choose another and who knew if that individual would try this hard to cling to their humanity. “And I’m so relieved you chose to come back.” Sobbing anew, Jon shuddered, his nerves most likely open and raw and exposed and Martin should have known better.

He really should have.

Jon yelped like a kicked dog when he laid a hand on his shoulder, toppling backwards over the arm of the couch with a scrambling thud in his attempt to get away from him and when Martin rounded the furniture Jon’s narrow chest heaving from the shock of it, heel of one hand pressed firmly to his forehead, the other curled up tight in the collar of his shirt.

“S’s’sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Martin.” He whimpered, frustrated that he could barely speak, “I. Not.”

“It’s alright.” Martin breathed deeply, exaggerated, so Jon could hear it, relieved that he attempted to copy him. At this rate, he would pass out with how hard he was fighting. “It’s alright.” He knew Jon had experienced awful things; they all have, likely will continue to be stalked by this disaster. But it became so clear in this moment how Elias, Jonah, isolated Jon from the very start. “It’s alright.” Unbidden, the instances where he’d been threatened by the people who were supposed to be his friends swamped his memory. He’d been alone. Completely alone. All this time and if anything, Martin’s stretch in the Lonely made those signs shine brighter in others and Jon may as well have been a beacon. “I understand.”

“No. It’s not you. N’n’nikola.” He was calmer, had forced himself to be so; desperate to reassure Martin that it wasn’t his fault.

“You don’t have to tell me.” But Jon shook his head despite his reassurances.

“No, you. You d’d’deserve to know what. What you’re dealing with.” Oh, Jon, please don’t hate yourself. “She said it would hurt. A’a’and they kept. Kept. Touching me. And I couldn’t make them stop. I wanted them to stop. I really did, Martin.” He swiped almost angrily at the flood of new tears.

“I know, hush, of course you did. Of course.”

“I fought them. Every time. I, I tried.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have been caught in the first place. I, I.”

“Shh…It’s not your fault, Jon.”

“And nobody. God, nobody. Eli--Jonah. No one knew.”

“I know; that wasn’t fair to you.” A month with his captors. And no one even noticed his absence. Or asked after him when he returned. Even after that awful joke he made to try and, and, and to process what had happened to him.

“I just want, want. I want, Martin.” Jon pushed himself into the upholstery and Martin knew if he could have torn his way into the fabric and hid, he would have. His short nails were leaving crescent moons in his arms. “Everything hurts, it’s, it’s too much. My head, my, my skin. I just. Want.”

“Okay, Jon. Okay. It’s okay.” Even though it was the farthest thing from the truth, but Martin wanted to try something before Jon fell even farther away from him, perhaps to a place where he wouldn’t be able to reach. “Jon? Can I touch you?” Over folded limbs, his eyes kept flickering to and from Martin. “I think it would help.” He kept his voice even and low and kind. “May I?”

“Please.” Slowly, so Jon could see each movement, Martin reached for the same shoulder as before, laying his palm over it firmly, and when Jon closed his eyes, more tears spilled down his face. He took a shaky breath, and then another, stronger this time, and Martin let him get used to the weight and the warmth.

Jon was overwhelmed. Stiff and trembling, lashes dark and damp like freshly spilled ink on his cheeks.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” Soft, gentle. “You’re in control, Jon. Tell me to stop and I will listen. I promise.”

“Stop?” He flinched, waiting for pain, or laughter, or mocking, derisive words, eyes still tightly closed. “P’please.” Martin wasn’t insulted by his test, removing his palm and offering him what he hoped was an easy smile, not blind to how Jon’s gaze now flicked between his hand and his face. If that was it for now, so be it. Martin wouldn’t rush him while they had this time together and kept his posture loose and unassuming, ready to wait forever if that’s what he needed.

Those sharp brown eyes were fixed on his hand and Martin knew he would never ask for what he wanted.

“Again?”

“Please.” Hushed, and this time he relaxed, just a bit.

“Could I hold you?”

“Please?” Even softer than before and Martin met him halfway as Jon all but collapsed into his lap, burying his face in his stomach and curling around him.

“Breathe, you need to breathe, Jon.” Gently, he levered him further into his arms. “I’ve got you.” Squeeze and release. Martin held him tight, held him together until he could again do it for himself, I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. And he felt when it became easier for Jon to force air into his body past the lead bands around his lungs Martin was all too familiar with from experience.

Jon couldn’t seem to get close enough, as though the small morsels of affection and comfort from the past few days made him crave it somehow more and he was clinging now, breath hitching with each pass of Martin’s palm over his shoulder blades, the knobs of his spine, each rung in the ladder that was his rib cage and lingering at the gap where two had been torn out of him for another. Always for another. His beautiful Jon; used so poorly by so many. Running fingers through his hair, he murmured sweet nonsense into his ear, tucking his still damp face into his neck and smiling at the deep peacefulness of his sigh, how each trembling muscle relaxed, how he settled against him like he was made to fit just there.

“Jon?” The accompanying touch, the backs of his fingers against his cheek, was as gentle as his inquiry. He was blinking slow, up at Martin’s face, eyes adorably crossed and bleary with his long fingers tangled up in his jumper.

“M’so tired.” He nuzzled the soft yarn, lashes fluttering closed, and Martin could feel it in the way his weight became heavier, how he melted completely, all the fear, all the panic oozed out of him until only Jon was left.

“Bed?”

“Mm.” The sleepiest, tiniest nod, and his love for him swelled in his chest.

“Alright, darling.”

“M’sorry.”

“Shh, shh.” Martin cupped his face, ran his thumb over the bone of his cheek. “None of that now, no need to be sorry.” Slowly, he lifted Jon up with him as he stood, catching him up under his knees when they threatened to buckle. “I’ve got you.” Jon had yet to unwind his fingers from where they held on so tightly and he pulled Martin down with him into the blankets.

“Martin.” Lightly, he brushed his lips against a scar left from the Corruption, listened to the little gasp Jon made, and kissed another. Softly, sweetly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, a whisper of green when Martin looked at him just right that matched his pleading susurration. Another scar. And another, there were so many, on his lined face, down the dark column of his throat. The mark left from Daisy elicited a sharp intake, tensing, and Martin soothed him with another press to his forehead. He caressed each scar, determined to replace each awful memory, each awful touch with something better, something that spoke of care, and fondness, promises of love.

“Call’d me, ‘darling.’” He sounded drugged, tongue loose and tripping up, syllables slurring with exhaustion and the chartreuse glimmering now hidden behind closed lids. Martin lifted his palm from where it had fallen away, lingering longest where Jon could feel it the least.

“Of course I did.”

Martin laid awake long after Jon slipped under, stroking his hair, watching him sleep, slack and undone, and hoping the dreams he walked through were at least somewhat kind to both Beholder and Beholden.

[writers-blogck]

Too Late? ( Daichi Sawamura x Reader )

I hope you like Haikyuu! Get prepared for a Haikyuu fic every day in October! Wooo! How am I going to do this? Who knows! -Unless otherwise stated, Reader is in a female-presenting body.-

Warning(s): This is filled with angst and has the reader fatally injured. The end is open-ended as much as possible so it could go either way but this is pretty sad. Title: Too Late? Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Reader Fandom: Haikyuu! Word Count:  2,128        

       When the paramedic is hurt, who is there to save them? You stared up at the dark sky covered with shining stars that seemed more calming than usual as you thought that question over. The burning in your stomach was starting to feel numb and be replaced with a cold you had never felt before. This was a cold that you couldn't be warmed up from. The eternal frigid cold that was spreading across your skin. The light blue of your uniform was beginning to stain with the red pooling at your stomach. This would never wash out...You couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous thought. Was that really something you should be concerned with right now?

       It had been a usual night on the job, being called out to an emergency situation. A guy had said that his elderly mother was having a heart attack and so you were sent out with your partner to offer assistance. When you got there, everything happened so quickly. You remember your partner going up and knocking on the door as you opened the back to prepare for the patient. Then there was the loud bang. Had something blown up? As you turned around, you were greeted with the silver of a gun before another bang went off. This time was accompanied by a burning sensation in your abdomen.

       Time became unstable in your mind once you fell to the ground, clutching your wound. At first, you thought you simply had been hit with the gun but when your hands came back dyed in your own blood, you realized the truth. How long had it been? It could have been mere seconds or hours, everything seemed foggy. When you tried to see your partner, all you saw was their crumpled up body at the entrance of the house. Were they moving? It was hard to tell with the watery tears in your eyes.

       When the shouts became louder and you heard more gunshots, you realized the situation you were in. This man had wanted suicide by cops and his plan just so happened to end with the paramedics being shot. Were you dying? It was a strange thought. The stars seemed to be the only thing you could focus on as time crawled on. The police were here, or perhaps just one patrolman in the area. You could hear a muffled voice yelling into their radio that they needed medical assistance as soon as possible. Paramedics to save paramedics, how ironic.

       You were unable to tell who the patrolman was until you felt strong arms wrap around your form, pulling your upper half to rest on their lap. The face above was the only one you would want to see at this moment. Daichi Sawamura, your best friend since diapers. No matter what the two of you went through, Daichi always seemed to make you feel safe.

       "Hey, Dai. What a coincidence to see you here," You offered a small smile though the tears rolling down your cheeks contradicted the tone in your voice. You hated to see Daichi upset. If this was the last time you saw him, you wanted to see him smiling. He was so handsome when he smiled. A pain formed in your stomach, not from the gunshot wound but instead your regret that you never told him enough. You were going to die friends...You should just be happy that you got to spend so much time with him.

       "Don't worry (Y/N), help is on the way. You're going to be fine." His larger hands pushed down on your wound as gently as possible while attempting to stop the bleeding. A small whimper of pain escaped your lips, though you tried to keep yourself silent. The look in his eyes made you want to cry, not for what you were going through but for what he had to feel. You never wanted to make him feel this way. The two of you were supposed to be there for each other no matter what happened.

....

       "Dai-Chan, you are going to Karasuno?" You were sitting outside during lunch, bento box pushed to the side as you spoke to your best friend. He was laying on his back, eyes staring up at the sky filled with fluffy clouds that made the situation happier than it was. A tugging at your stomach kept you from eating.

       "Yeah, I hear they have a good volleyball team."

       "Oh."

       "Where are you going to go?"

       The lilac and cream colors of Aobajohsai flashed through your head at his words. The two of you were in your final year of middle school and both had decided to go on to further your education. You had been contacted by a school before you even applied to any. The coach to the female volleyball team had seen you play and offered you a spot on their team as the new libero as the old one was heading into her final year. The idea of being recruited was amazing but once you heard that Daichi was going to Karasuno,  it became a bittersweet feeling instead.

       "I'm not sure yet. I was thinking about going to Karasuno since it would be less of a trip. Plus I hear they have cute uniforms so that would be a plus." You joked, hiding the disappointment that you felt. Daichi didn't need to know about the offer, it would only make him feel bad. You might love volleyball but Daichi was more important to you. The idea of being parted from him made you feel sick. If he wanted to go to Karasuno, then you would follow him happily.

       "Hey, Daichi?"

       "Yeah?" His dark eyes moved from the sky to look at you instead, the soft emotion he hid behind them making you melt. You had begun feeling differently about the boy as the two of you got older. He was no longer a friend who just so happened to be a guy. It was hard not to notice how he was changing. He was becoming more of a man and the more he grew, the more you could feel yourself falling for him.

       "Do you promise we will always be together?"        

       Your voice was quiet and you didn't know if he heard you at first. His eyes moved back on the blue sky as his larger hand found your own. His skin was warm against your own as he grabbed your hand, fingers intertwining like two puzzle pieces made for each other. He was perfect for you and you could only hope that you were perfect for him.

       "Of course. I will always be there for you, no matter what. So you don't need to worry, okay?"

....

       "How is my partner? You should go and check on them...They may need help." Your voice was getting hoarse and it was getting harder to breathe. You were trying to stay calm but it was hard to do that when you had just been shot. You could feel the panic radiating off of Daichi. Sirens could be heard in the distance. How long had it been since he had called for backup and some medical help? Your mind wandered to the man who had attacked you. Had Daichi simply injured the man or was it worse? Your mind was beginning to go fuzzy and it was hard to think straight. You were just getting so cold and tired. Maybe you could just close your eyes for a little bit. Daichi had held you while you slept when the two of you were younger...Maybe you could relive that if only for the last few moments you had.

       "Don't think about that. You just need to focus on staying awake for me, alright?" Daichi's knuckles brushed against your cheek, drying the tears that had stained your cheeks. You weren't crying anymore, at least you didn't think you were anyway. You couldn't feel anything anymore other than the warmth that came from Daichi's body. He was like a walking heater.

       "Dai, you're getting blood on your pants..."

       "Do you really think that matters at this point?" Daichi laughed a breathy sound that made it obvious how hard he was trying not to cry. Though it was hard to at this point, you lifted your hands to cup Daichi's face, trying to ignore the small smear of blood now staining his cheek. He couldn't keep the tears from falling now, you could feel the hot droplets hitting your hand. There was nothing you wouldn't do at this moment to make him feel better, it hurt to see him cry. For as long as you had known him, you could count the number of times you had seen him cry on one hand. He was the pillar between the two of you and it was hard to see him crumbling right in front of you.

       Just this morning, the two of you had been texting and planning on meeting up for lunch this weekend. The two of you talked every day but with how busy you both were, your visits with each other were getting less and less. You had even been considering owning up to your feelings and finally admitting to him after more than a decade spent together. You loved your best friend. You loved Daichi Sawamura.

       You had dreamed of the days when it would just be the two of you laying on a couch, you on top of him like a human blanket. Some movie would be playing but it would simply be background noise as the two of you simply cherished the lack of space between your bodies. He would run his hands through your hair and you would rest your head on his chest, listening to the calm beating of his heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.

       It hurt.

       It hurt that you would never be able to live that perfect life with Daichi. What if you had confessed before the two of you graduated from high school? What if, even if just a week ago, you admitted your feelings to him? You didn't know if he would feel the same way but you would at least have some closure. The chance to live in the same space as him, the two of you continuing to grow with each other. You were going to get married. You thought you might even have had kids with him one day but all of that was fading before your eyes. The corners of your vision were darkening and you didn't know how much time you had left before you passed out.

       As a paramedic, you knew what was happening to you. You were losing too much blood even with Daichi's attempt to slow the bleeding. Too much blood was staining the two of you and your body was growing weaker. You would pass out and then...never wake up. You would never get to see the smile of Daichi again if you closed your eyes.

       "Daichi," You started with his full name, your voice coming out as more of a choked sob than anything, "I'm scared to die...I don't want to die Daichi, please I don't want to die."

       The pleading was instinct at this point. Everything was crashing down on you and your body was becoming heavier and heavier. You weren't holding up any of your weight now save for keeping your hands against the man that you loved's cheeks. Daichi looked heavenly in the flashes of red and blue from his squad car. You thought you could hear the faint rumble of vehicles pulling up but you felt too weak to turn your head. You wanted to hold onto him as long as possible but it was getting harder and harder. You had to move your arms to wrap around the man's neck limply as you felt your strength fading.

       "You aren't going to die, (Y/N), I promise. I said that I would always protect you, remember? It was our last year at Karasuno and it was after I told you that I wanted to join the academy. We were on the school rooftop and I promised that no matter what, I would always keep you safe!" His tears were falling freely now, running down his cheeks and dripping onto your own.

       "Daichi, listen to me, please...Please, smile for me one more time. I don't want to die without seeing you smile again...Please."

       As the world was swallowed by the abyss that was overtaking your vision, the last thing you saw was the wobbly smile of the man you had loved your entire life. If only you had been strong enough to admit your feelings sooner...

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 132: The Lost Prophecy

The circular office was strewn with bits of broken odds and ends like glittering tears embedded in the carpet, Fawkes was watching them all steadily from the ashes and made a silly little squeaking noise from his baby beak, and the portraits were calling and yelling at them in surprise when reality finally settled back.

Regulus shook his head slowly like he was still trying to get water out of his ears rather than that noise. He couldn't believe it had come from Sirius of all people. It was the most humanizing moment he'd ever seen in his life from his big brother, no longer the confident adult akin to dad. Just a scared teenager who had no idea how to deal with all of this like him.

He still didn't particularly like Potter, he seemed as arrogant as Evans always said, but at least acknowledged it as a good thing he'd been replaced. He certainly hadn't known what to do to help his brother. He'd thought Sirius was helping himself by keeping his emotions at a distance, and he'd obviously been wrong about that.

Sitting up slowly and having to dig a bit of something from out of his fingers from the wreck of this office, he took in the rest of this place with even more unease. If someone had broken in to steal something of worth in the Headmaster's absence, they hadn't done a good job of it as the Sword of Gryffindor was still visible in its case next to the Hat, and the Pensieve was still in its cupboard, as Longbottom proved when he cracked it open and bathed them all in blue light. Clearly valuables hadn't been the goal then, but why just upend all of the headmaster's trinkets? It certainly hadn't been them to do it, nobody had landed close enough to be the source.

The girls opened a door and came out of Dumbledore's adjoining room. A grand bed with plum sheets looked rumpled from one of their landing, Evans was rubbing her head from whatever she'd hit in there.

"Can you imagine how much knowledge must be in that thing," Peter surprised him by saying right beside him, hand outstretched. He was looking from the Pensieve and back with a teasing smile, but Regulus had no desire to stick his head in that. He took the offer reluctantly, surprised he stayed on his feet for as shaky as he felt. "This whole room even, wonder if he's working on another use for dragon's blood somewhere."

Regulus couldn't think of anything to say to that, biting down hard on his cheek as he tried to figure out what to do now. He did want to talk to Sirius, but the image of his big brother in his head had been shattered as much as these items, what was he supposed to say?

"He'll be alright, honestly," Peter told him gently. "Prongs will keep him in order, he just needed to, you know, be serious for a moment," he smirked at his own joke.

Regulus gave a surprised smile, and Sirius full-blown laughed. It wasn't a small office after all.

"Who else would I be Wormy?" He shot back, still slouching comfortably against the door like he hadn't tried to leave, Potter beside him rolling his eyes and audibly grumbling at Peter encouraging that stupidity.

Lupin was failing to hide a smile at the exchange as he grabbed the book from Dumbledore's desk. "The Lost Prophecy," he read with such surprise he actually dropped the book again, making a crunch as it smashed something into even more pieces.

The room stayed frozen for several long moments before Lupin shook himself and grabbed the book back quickly with an uneasy look at Potter, who had frozen up as if another death had been announced all over again. Sirius moved instantly, rubbing at his arm and muttering something for their ears alone. He relaxed, just a touch, and jerked his head away from the book, glaring out the window with very forced obvious disinterest.

"What, no bets on how Harry magically managed to come across this thing again?" Sirius offered weakly, but when his best mate didn't react, Sirius just gave Lupin a weary look of preparation. "Go on then Moony, let's get it over with. I'm still more worried about Harry than that stupid thing anyways."

Lupin didn't seem to agree, but he took a breath and started.

Harry was in pain. The kind of pain nobody would ever ask for, the loss of his only connection to his parents he'd ever known, or ever would again apparently. Regulus didn't know why Lupin was reading this, as if to spotlight how he once again was absent in Harry's life when needed. He kept going though, as the explanation came readily that it was Harry who had destroyed all this stuff in a rage to Dumbledore. Lupin just kept going though, his tone apologetic and full of sorrow as he kept watching his two mates, but there was something in there Regulus didn't understand, he just didn't know the guy well enough.

Then he looked at Peter and saw how he was studying Lupin and alternately eyeing the surrounding office, and thought he may be able to guess. Dumbledore had let a werewolf into this school when many a headmaster wouldn't dare, and Lupin had been big on defending the Headmaster back when all this had started. That had waned out a bit with each passing book, now he may in fact be doing this as an act of contrition.

The Boy Who Lived wasn't getting much comfort from the old man either, the explanation now coming in droves about his own hand in this horrible scheme of Occlumency and secrets put in him the desire to walk out of this school and never return, it was a wonder Sirius wasn't following in his godson's footsteps and destroying everything in sight.

Potter was the one crying now though, his arm tight around Sirius who wouldn't dare move away as his best mate seemed to have all the energy drained out of him to never return for every dirty crime listed. That it was Kreacher's doing, and the wise leader of the Order told Sirius only had himself to blame for it.

Regulus wanted to be sick at the idea. He wanted to scream like Sirius had and hope that made him feel better but knew it wouldn't. If he could plug up his ears and forget this one thing he knew he would in a heartbeat, that it was his beloved house-elf to be the death of his brother. Sirius looked infuriated beyond belief, it was hard to believe he'd ever hide any emotion again as he bellowed at the top of his lungs for Kreacher to be here right now, but no such summons was acknowledged for the first time in his life.

"Sirius, that's not helping," Regulus pleaded. "You can't just, he didn't mean-"

"Don't you dare Regulus!" Sirius snapped. He didn't take one step away from Potter as he turned all that fury on him now. "He meant to do exactly what happened! Injuring Buckbeak, trying to get Harry killed because of me! He's a worthless piece of shit just like your parents always wanted!"

Regulus winced at every blow, especially the 'your.' Did he already consider himself so unlike him? "Just listen, please," he didn't have an attic to hide away from his brother shouting. If he stopped arguing and pretended he didn't care like Sirius had then maybe he might do something worse than just scream. He'd always learned from his brother's mistakes, and he didn't want to pretend this wasn't horrible to him. To his complete surprise, Sirius really looked at him for a moment, then Peter, and closed his mouth.

The expression was still terrifying, no one could glower like a Black, but Regulus deliriously whispered, "he doesn't know better Sirius! You hate him, I know that, but he's got good in him, just like everybody! Haven't you wondered why he wasn't at home, why the house-elves aren't here at Hogwarts! You can't just want him dead because he's like our parents anymore than-"

He stopped as a soul deep cold whispered in his ear maybe Sirius had changed his mind and didn't care if he died anymore.

"I'm not asking you to like him," he finished in a miserable whisper. "Just, don't, hate him without giving him a chance to try."

Sirius slowly dropped the glare and kept watching him. His eyes flickered around the destroyed office and to his three friends then back to him and Regulus counted silently in his head all the different ways Sirius could kill him in this place just to be rid of his commentary.

His brother slowly eased the tension out of him though, and went back to leaning against his best mate without taking his eyes off of him. His voice was rough, but he sounded like he was actually trying to joke, "am I allowed to hate anyone in this future without that being thrown in my face?"

"Voldemort," Potter said at once with his own glare still held upon the world beyond.

"Bellatrix," Longbottom and Alice spoke at once, a word beyond redemption needed for her.

"Umbridge," Peter and Lupin spoke together with looks of distaste.

"Those Dursleys," Evans finished quietly but calmly.

"I accept that," Sirius finally forced a grin. He didn't really look like he meant it, but the fact that he stopped at all to even hear Regulus out meant the world to him right now, he wasn't going to keep pushing. Kreacher could be better if he just had some other influence, he just knew it! Not everything with their name on it had to end in ruins, surely.

Lupin finally kept going and he watched Evans pace in stark contrast, clearly furious her son was trying to futilely blame all this on Severus when Dumbledore offered explanation for where he'd been, but nobody needed to tell her how flimsy it felt. That Snape had really spent the whole night just wandering around the Forbidden Forest, and hadn't come across the centaurs and Grawp himself to figure all this out, he was more accomplished than that and surely should have been able to join the Order rather than conveniently being left out of the whole instance and not forced to pick a side. It seemed cruel nobody around here was getting the answers they so desperately wanted while Dumbledore explained Harry's life in painful detail to him.

The Prophecy that had set Voldemort after the Potters was issued by one now very familiar Divination teacher to them all.

"It would be her!" Sirius said with such ferocity the woman should have been ducking for cover no matter when she was now. "Bloody her that ruined my life the first time, now we're at round two!"

"I know Padfoot," James agreed patiently, "we'll lock her in a closet for the rest of her life when this is over so she can't be making any more of them, but please-" his voice broke at the end, and Sirius needed no further prompting to keep his mouth shut, a feat only James Potter had ever accomplished. Sirius knew he'd go mad without help if he had to wait any longer to hear this.

James felt like his ears were still ringing long after Remus had stopped reading that prophecy. This one was somehow even more vague than the one that had apparently been Sirius's doom, the only factor that related it to Harry was his birthday, but nothing at all for him to work with, fix some way out of this except possibly being a little choosy when they had their firstborn if that even worked. For all he knew when the prophecy was spoken again it would just change to that month. If he'd had any hope left clinging to his and Lily's son it was gone now, he couldn't condemn a child to this future that had his name in that Hall of Prophecy with no foreseeable way out of it for him.

There was nothing else to do. He couldn't not defy Voldemort, he couldn't stop any of that.

Sirius didn't have to imagine what Harry looked like sitting in this office, his future in ruins, because he was seeing it live. He'd never seen James look so defeated, not about any problem in the world. It had been him to come up with the animagus plan, his brilliant idea to keep Remus and Peter around when Sirius hadn't even originally wanted anything to do with them. His persistent optimism Evans would say yes any day only rivaled his absolute assurances there was more laughter to be had around the next corner if they just followed him.

He would not just sit here and let the fight drain out of James.

"Hey Prongs, I've got a secret," Sirius said at the top of his lungs. "We figured out Voldemort's weapon before him!"

James tried to smile for him, but it didn't feel real, Dumbledore had known this in its entirety this whole time and it hadn't helped Harry a lick, what good was he?

He saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and he chanced a glance up in confusion what Fawkes would have swooped over here for, before his heart stuttered in surprise to see Evans staring down at him, hands on her hips. He couldn't guess at the look on her face, she'd never looked at him so directly with anything other than contempt.

"So, this thrice defined bit," she said airily, "you think it was three times each, or I did it twice more than you? I personally hope it's not something as silly a technicality as not joining Death Eaters, it should be something much more direct like actually hitting him with a curse or two."

Ironically, before, it was like he was trying to watch her without his glasses on, blurry and only the color easy to focus on. She'd always been such a constant fiery presence in his life. Now he really just sat here and looked at her, that this was like a new language to him, just seeing her speak as a normal girl.

"I'll take that as a challenge," he told her casually.

"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say," she nodded, already turning back away. "Wouldn't be any fun if you just gave up."

Sirius now looked like the one who was dumbstruck as she walked away, but James could only shrug without answer and smile.

Remus kept going gently, some ingrained part of him still hoping Dumbledore would have another answer than this obliqueness, and finally his wish seemed to come true as the headmaster magically gifted them with the smallest ray of hope.

"What does he mean it might not have been Harry? That one we saw at the Ministry, it had Harry's name on it," stringing words together seemed to be paining Prongs greatly, but he latched heavily onto this.

"There was that odd question mark on it though," Peter corrected. "The rest all makes sense now, those were Dumbledore's and Trelawney's initials, but this must mean someone didn't put that in there until after-"

He stopped with a wince, and they didn't need him to finish anyways.

It still didn't feel like much of an answer, especially with the news that Neville could have been the other child!

Alice turned gray and Frank let out such a yelp it was as if he'd dodged his own deadly curse.

Lily instantly began hugging her friend, she wanted to do the same to Frank but he was already moving. He walked almost calmly to Dumbledore's desk, not even looking twice at Lupin or the book until he found a quill to load up with ink and a bit of parchment, then offered his hand that only just slightly trembled if one were watching for it. "May I?"

Lupin wordlessly passed it along and they watched as he copied down the prophecy and stuck it very purposefully in his pocket before handing the book back, then going over and taking his girlfriend's hand. It didn't matter the words now felt seared into their brains, he was now determined every chance they got he'd look at them every day until he found some way to break out of this and stop any Dark Lord from ever darkening their lives again.

"Is that it then?" Alice asked into the ever growing silence.

"No," Lupin whispered, still holding the book and watching Sirius and Potter. "Just, not sure how much more of this I can take."

"That's okay Moony," Sirius still managed a grin, now of all times. "Voldemort's been tormenting people before and after these two boys, but now Harry's given us a way to fight back. That power the Dark Lord knows not, maybe it's his self-destruct button!"

Potter laughed, even Lupin and Peter managed quiet snickers for the idiot.

The two would-be mothers watched him with something close to disdain for trying to make light of this, like they'd be slapping him all the way out of Hogwarts grounds if they could, but there was something in watching the Marauders now holding them back from retaliating. Frank felt it too in the way Black spoke, this wasn't really a joke to him as he played off, he'd do whatever he had to protect his godson again while keeping their focus on how to keep going rather than just dwelling on these awful moments.

Regulus recognized the same, but he wasn't so sure he could live with the outcome. He already feared going back to the world where his parents would hate him, what would happen if then the world just took his only family left away.

Harry was living through the same, as Dumbledore finally ran out of explanations for now and his thoughts returned to his lost godfather. He couldn't imagine how to get through it. So Regulus finally said the only thing he could think of to him. "I don't want you to die."

Sirius flashed him that smile he'd missed so much. "Lookie there, we can agree on two things."

[inkribbon796]

I Thought We Were Brothers Ch. 1: Wish I Could Relive Every Single Word

Summary: Marvin and Chase have a lot of unspoken grievances between each other and neither of them know what to do about it.

A/N: For Marvin’s birthday. Chapter title from the song “Brother” by Kodaline.

Chapters: 1, 2

Marvin knew he should say something. Anything at this point was better than the growing chasm opening up between him and several of the Septics. J.J and Henrik were civil on a good day but Chase was a different matter.

It started way before time travelers came came back with grim news, or Marvin first voiced the want to train Chase’s daughter in magic. It began with Robbie.

Sweet, innocent Robbie.

Marvin would never apologize or regret raising the young teen from the dead. He couldn’t.

The magician had looked the young man’s mother dead in the eyes and swore that he’d protect Robbie. Had sworn on his magic and own soul that he would do everything in his power to always bring him back to her alive. And Marvin had done just that, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t tried.

But that night had left Marvin and Chase on unspoken bad terms. Chase ceased trusting Marvin, had started drinking again, and then cleaned himself up a couple months after. The atmosphere, forever spoiled.

After the incident with the Suits, Marvin had ceased trusting Chase as well. Chase now had a part of Clubs forever buried in his soul, and it showed in little ways. His beard was getting trimmed instead of him just allowing it to go wild until he shaved it back. He’d gotten a gun, a real one, and was hiding it in his room in the base. None of the heroes tried to talk about it, but many of them knew it was there. The marksman sometimes made especially barbed jabs at Marvin when he was tired or too exhausted to keep his filter up. Then there was the matter of Dark.

Marvin had seen the look in Chase’s eyes whenever Damien was on the news. Chase was especially anxious whenever Marvin got near any of Dark’s kids. Even if those kids were King and Host. Dark was more willing to hold long conversations with Chase, and Chase had been caught by Marvin on more than one occasion texting Dark.

There was something growing between Dark and Chase and everyone was too busy walking on eggshells to confront either party about it.

Well Marvin was sick of watching his friend group tear itself apart. He needed to talk to Chase, before the guy did something stupid.

Marvin walked into the comms room. Chase was in there with Tommy and King.

“This job always as borin’[1] as shit?” Tommy asked.

King chuckled, “Yeah but so long as you’re listening to the feed you can be on your phone or work on stuff. Logan and Bing once built a transforming roomba from the ground up during a couple comms sessions. It’s why Logan likes to be in here, he gets his little side projects done.”

While King and Tommy were talking, Chase immediately noticed that Marvin had opened the door and was just staring at him.

“Hey Chase, can we talk?” Marvin asked.

“Logic, takin’[2] a smoke back,” Chase scoffed into the microphone and stood up, “King, yeh[3] have seniority, call us if anythin’[4] happens.”

“Yes, finally!” King smiled in joy and threw his arms up as Tommy groaned in annoyance, flopping back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “I got it!”

Without a word, Chase stepped out and quietly motioned for Marvin to follow him and took him out to the little smoking area. There Chase lit up a cigarette and took a deep lungful of nicotine laced smoke, before even acknowledging Marvin’s presence, “What do yeh[3] want?”

“I wanna talk,” Marvin reminded. “Why do yeh[3] think I followed yeh[3] out here yeh[3] bollocks[5]?”

Chase took a seat, “Fine, what yeh wanna go on about?”[6]

“Look, I know we don’t usually talk, but we need ta[7] talk about somethin’[8],” Marvin told him.

The marksman gave an amused chuckle, “Nah, we don’t have anythin’ ta talk about. Just go back ta yer books Marv.”[9]

“Yeh[3] hate me, so we got shite[10] ta[7] talk about,” Marvin told him.

“You murdered Stacy an’[11] the kids, ‘a[12] course I fookin’[13] hate yeh[3]!” Chase ripped the cigarette out of his mouth and stomped towards him.

Marvin flinched and Chase pulled away, “An’ sure yeh didn’t this time, but yeh did the other times, yeh did before they came back. Yeh set an entire city on fire, killed hundreds ‘a people. What am I supposed ta say ta yeh?”[14]

“I know,” Marvin called back, terror in his voice. “I know an’ don’t know what the fook was wrong with me ta brin’ me ta that point. That is hundreds ‘a thousands ‘a people who did nothin’ ta deserve the horror ‘a fookin’ burnin’ ta death!”[15]

“I don’t remember what was wrong with yeh[3],” Chase shot back, still angry. “I got stuck with that fooker’s[16] feelings, not his memories.”

The two of them fell quiet, the air nasty and injured between them.

Marvin felt like poison was bubbling in this throat. “The fook[17] happened ta[7] us?”

“Yer gonna have ta be specific,”[18] Chase asked curtly.

“I wanted ta[7] learn magic an’[11] hunt ghosts,” Marvin raked his hands down his face. “I didn’t want ta[7] save the world an’[11] deal with the fact I fooked[19] the future so bad it had ta[7] be fixed.”

“Yeah,” Chase frowned, before his phone went off. Chase pulled it out to see a text had shown up. It was Mori, in the water, near some tunnels with a fish in his mouth, the photo taken from the shoreline which meant Memento or Tempus had probably taken the picture.

The picture got a tiny breathy laugh from Chase, and a small smile. His kids seemed to be having fun, they didn’t seem to be getting into some big trouble. Yet, at least.

“They usually text yeh[3]?” Marvin asked, trying to make his tone sound less hostile.

“Yeah,” Chase’s expression turned bittersweet, he started texting Dark with an update. “Helps ta have a second pair ‘a eyes on ‘em. They tend ta slip out ‘a the Manor or the warehouses when Dark’s not watchin’. An’ that’s on a day when Wil doesn’t just sweep ‘em away an’ cause trouble with ‘em.”[20]

“Why are yeh in charge ‘a watchin’ ‘em?”[21] Marvin asked, completely confused. “Can’t those two just rise an’[11] repeat what they did with the other six? I mean if yeh[3] can handle raising six fookin’[13] demons in secret, three seem like no big deal.”

Chase paused, his fingers still. They were going to figure it out eventually. King already knew, he’d confided that in Chase already. “Cause[22] they’re mine, Marv.”

Marvin spent the next minute trying to figure out if Chase was joking, and then another minute trying to figure out how that was possible since they were demons and Chase was still human.

But a nagging feeling tickled the back of his head: was he still human?

Logan and the other Sides had been demons since the first moment he had met them and no one had been the wiser. Not even the Sides, and Marvin should have known. He should have taken one look at Virgil and more importantly Remus and known. Chase could be a demon, he could not know, and fly under every kind of test and radar known to magic itself. Hell, Patton and Roman still came up as humans for those tests.

“Do— Does uh,” Marvin floundered for an adequate response, because what the hell was he supposed to say to that! “Does Dark know?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who told me,” Chase was moving his cigarette back up to his lips. “Don’t know if he told the rest ‘a[12] his kids but they all know too. King said as much.”

“So what now?” Marvin asked.

Chase let out an ugly, contemptuous snort, “What about now?”

“Dark’s got yer[23] kids, is there another custody battle comin’[24] up?” Marvin winced at the memory of Chase’s last custody battle, one he had lost handedly.

“They’re Dark’s kids, he’s the most powerful bein’[25] in all Egoton, there’s nothin’[26] ta[7] fight against, Marv,” Chase dismissed, rolling his cigarette around in his mouth.

“Chase, no yeh can’t just roll o’er an’ just—”[27] Marvin spat.

“Calm yer[23] fookin’[13] tits, Marv,” Chase scoffed. “Dark an’[11] I have somethin’[8] set up. I see ‘em[28] more than I see my human kids.”

Marvin shoved his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do with them. “Okay, that’s good at least. So did yeh an’ Dark talk about stuff then. I know that the Clubs version ‘a yeh was with him in the future.”[29]

“I don’t have a future with Dark anymore,” Chase snarled. “He’s with Wil.”

“Wil cheats on him with practically the entire town,” Marvin reminded.

“I know!” Chase slammed his fist on the bench before raking his fingers down his face. “Yeh[3] think I haven’t noticed that bubblegum bastard perched on his arm, being the fookin’[13] shittiest arsehole[30] in the whole fookin’[13] world?”

Marvin opened his mouth but Chase turned and started on a tirade, “Dark is loyal ta[7] him. He fookin’[13] raised those kids almost by himself. An’[11] what does he get in return? The fooker[31] rips his heart out an’[11] leaves. It pisses me off.”

“I thought they said Wil died?” Marvin asked and all the momentum bled out of Chase’s system.

“Yeah he did,” Chase corrected himself. “Fook![17] I did it again.”

“Did what again?” Marvin asked.

“I say weird thin’s[32], I do weird thin’s[32],” Chase dismissed. “Yesterday I made like three different coffees, one fer me, one fer Eef, an’ another fer Dark. Crank wasn’t e’en in that day, an’ why the hell should I be makin’ a fookin’ coffee fer Dark? I was in the base.”[33]

“Wasn’t future yeh datin’ him or fookin’ him or somethin’?” Marvin asked.

“I think he was gonna[34] propose,” Chase admitted.

Marvin just stared at Chase, “What? How do yeh[3] know?”

“I caught myself lookin’[35] at rings,” Chase admitted. “Tryin’ ta find somethin’ that looks nice with red an’ blue. Not that it’s ‘a any use now.”[36]

“How much do yeh[3] remember or feel?” Marvin asked, coming closer and taking a seat next to Chase.

“I don’t have memories, just his feelin’s[37],” Chase frowned in thought. “Frustration, anger, love. Future me was so smitten with Dark that I know he was killin’ fer him. The weight ‘a my guns feel off now. Whene’er I look at Mori an’ Memento I feel so upset ‘cause they’re with Wil an’ they’re so big an’ it eats at me. Wilford fookin’ stole my kids an’ changed ‘em, an’ I’m supposed ta stand by an’ watch his aura keep changin’ ‘em.”[38]

“Have yeh tried talkin’ ta Dark about this?”[39] Marvin questioned.

“An’[11] tell him what?” Chase demanded. “That I fookin’[13] hate his guts an’[11] I wanna[40] take him out on a date ta[7] this nice curry place I saw on my last patrol at the same time. That I think his boyfriend is awful fer[41] him an’[11] I wanna[40] put a hollow point right between his fookin’[13] eyes?”

Marvin was trying to find some way to comfort or calm Chase down as he kept rambling. “Yah know maybe I should march my arse o’er ta his office an’ tell him that I hate wakin’ up in the morning. That when I wake up, I can’t stand it when my bed is fookin’ empty. That someone is supposed ta be in my bed with me an’ I just lay there fer hours ‘cause I can’t leave until he knows I’m there.”[42]

“Yeah, Marv, Dark would love that,” Chase laughed sadly. “Big, powerful mob boss would love some sad alcoholic who can barely hold himself together long enough ta[7] get out ‘a[12] bed in the mornin’[43]. That’ll really get his attention.”

“Well he must’a liked somethin’ ‘cause he was datin’ yeh,”[44] Marvin tried to offer.

“Wil was dead,” Chase reminded. “He’s alive an’ kickin’ now. Dark’s not gonna e’en look my way if Wil’s alive.”[45]

Marvin and Chase went quiet again. Unsure how to help either of them.

Fortunately for Marvin, he didn’t have to. King called them both back in. City hall wanted Average, Marvin, and Jackie to come in for a meeting.

Marvin saw the tense look in Chase’s eyes but he agreed and the two of them set off to meet Jackie at City Hall.

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. boring

2. taking

3. you

4. anything

5. balls

6. Fine, what do you want to talk about?

7. to

8. something

9. Nah, we don’t have anything to talk about. Just go back to your books Marv.

10. shit

11. and

12. of

13. fucking

14. And sure you didn’t this time, but you did the other times, you did before they came back. You set an entire city on fire, killed hundreds of people. What am I supposed to say to you?

15. I know and don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me to bring me to that point. That is hundreds of thousands of people who did nothing to deserve the horror of fucking burning to death!

16. fucker’s

17. fuck

18. You’re going to have to be specific

19. fucked

20. Helps to have a second pair of eyes on them. They tend to slip out of the Manor or the warehouses when Dark’s not watching. And that’s on a day when Wil doesn’t just sweep them away and cause trouble with them.

21. Why are you in charge of watching them?

22. Because

23. your

24. coming

25. being

26. nothing

27. Chase, no you can’t just roll over and just—

28. them

29. Okay, that’s good at least. So did you and Dark talk about stuff then. I know that the Clubs version of you was with him in the future.

30. asshole

31. fucker

32. things

33. Yesterday I made like three different coffees, one for me, one for Eef, and another for Dark. Crank wasn’t even in that day, and why the hell should I be making a fucking coffee for Dark? I was in the base.

34. going to

35. looking

36. Trying to find something that looks nice with red and blue. Not that it’s of any use now.

37. feelings

38. Frustration, anger, love. Future me was so smitten with Dark that I know he was killing for him. The weight of my guns feel off now. Whenever I look at Mori and Memento I feel so upset because they’re with Wil and they’re so big and it eats at me. Wilford fucking stole my kids and changed them, and I’m supposed to stand by and watch his aura keep changing them.

39. Have you tried talking to Dark about this?

40. want to

41. for

42. You know maybe I should march my ass over to his office and tell him that I hate waking up in the morning. That when I wake up, I can’t stand it when my bed is fucking empty. That someone is supposed to be in my bed with me and I just lay there for hours because I can’t leave until he knows I’m there.

43. morning

44. Well he must have liked something because he was dating you

45. He’s alive and kicking now. Dark’s not going to even look my way if Wil’s alive.

[cap-winter-barnes]

My Hero - Campbell Eliot x Reader

Requested by @angeltop129​ - I am so sorry for how long this has taken. I hope this is okay. If you would like a Part 2 please let me know.

Warnings: guns, violence (that’s about it I think)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

West Ham was a town that once upon a time, I would have described as charming and peaceful. But New Ham? New Ham is what I would call chaotic.

I  wish every day that this is just a dream, and that when I wake, everything will be back to the way it was before. But it has been forty-six days since we returned on those school buses. Forty-six days with no idea how or why this has happened to us.

When Cassandra suggested some of us take inventory at the grocery store, I jumped at the chance. Anything to get me off of the streets and away from my home. Being an only child already, I physically cannot stand to be in that house alone.

Kelly and Will have been inseparable since we started the job. Not once have they tried involving me in any of their conversations. I can practically hear every word either way, but it would be nice to at least be involved.

But then again, that’s how my life has always been. I am acknowledged and that’s that. No conversations. No interest. No friends.

Looking at my watch, I realise how long I have gone with nothing to eat. I reach across for my rucksack that is propped against the display of tinned tuna. As my fingers graze the left shoulder strap, I am startled by a loud smash from the entrance of the store. Leaving the bag where it is, I stand and peer out of the aisle. I’m honestly not surprised to see some of the local idiots causing trouble. I find it funny how I can’t place a name to their faces except for one. Campbell.

He for once is not directly involved with the disruption, but is standing outside of the store, watching on. But why does he look nervous? Something doesn’t seem right though. And that’s when I notice the group inside the store are all armed.

Being someone who is against conflict of any sort, I quickly back away from the aisle end. But as I reach for my bag, I trip over my own feet and come crashing down into the shelving.

Tins upon tins of food come crashing down with me to the tiled floor. The noise is deafening as they all come tumbling down. It seems endless. A few of the larger products don’t miss me on their descent to the ground. My head throbs with blinding pain. I raise my hands above my head to soften the blow of those that continue to fall, the pain is horrendous. The metal digs into my palms, bending my fingers unnaturally backwards. It’s no wonder that I don’t hear the sounds of the group approaching me, guns aimed in my direction.

My vision is blurred, and my ears are ringing as I try and focus. Through the incessant sound of the ringing, I can tell that there are people shouting. But I can’t quite make out who. I place my hands on the floor to steady myself, and I try and push up from the ground.

“Hey, hey, hey.” A voice cuts clearly through the ringing in my ears. “No. You need to stay where you are.” I recognise the voice, but my brain is still fuzzy from the impact of the tinned goods. “Y/N. Hey.” Campbell. That’s Campbell’s voice.

With help, I lower myself back down to the floor, my back propped up against what is left of the shelving. My vision is slowly coming back to me and I can make out the group of guys standing around where I had last seen them. But this time they look concerned.

I turn to look at Campbell as he carefully kicks the tins out of the way, the sound hurts my head. He then kneels down in front of me, resting his forearms on his knees as he looks at me.

“How are you feeling?” I frown at him and reach up to my head with my fingers. He quickly takes my hand and brings it back down to my body. “You’re bleeding,” he grimaces as he says it, “you don’t need to see it.” I minutely nod my head in understanding. So that’s why I feel like my skull has been cracked open. He takes of his plaid overshirt and gently wraps it around my head as a makeshift bandage.

“I’ll sort you a proper one soon, okay?” He reassures me as he makes sure that the shirt is secure.

I smile in thanks and close my eyes, trying to block out the bright fluorescent lights of the store. “Hey, no. You have to keep your eyes open.”

“The lights are too fucking bright.” My voice is laced with fatigue and annoyance. He chuckles and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, revealing a pair of dark plastic sunglasses. He opens them up and places them on my face, pushing a strand of loose hair behind my ear as he does so.

“Better?” I smile and nod at him, the relief from the brightness takes some of the aching in my head away. Campbell returns the smile and then takes a seat next to me, his shoulder knocking against mine as he does so.

“Hey, Eliot! We done here?” A voice cuts through the silence, it feels like a blade is pressing against my head as he says it. I wince at the sensation and Campbell notices. His expression is no longer caring and kind, but now filled with annoyance. Standing, he makes his way towards the group that have made their way to us.  

“No, we’re not done here.” As Campbell walks towards them, I watch on with worry. I remember them all carrying guns. And not all of them were handguns. My heart rate increases at the thought of someone firing. Campbell can handle himself; I’ve seen him in fights in and out of school. And I’ve never seen him lose.

But as he walks away from me, I notice that tucked into the waistband of his jeans, is a handgun. My heart is hammering in my chest and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“We’re not done here until I say so.” Campbell places his hands into his front pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Well, until Cassandra, says so.” The guy laughs as if it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. The others in the group have smirks resting on their faces. “Something funny to you, Dewey?”

“You hate Cassandra. So why get her involved?”

Campbell clears his throat and looks back towards me, a small smile on his lips.

“Because of what you did.” He reaches with his right hand to his waistband and wraps his fingers around the gun but doesn’t remove it from its hiding spot. “What would you have done if you’d have shot her, huh?”

“She shouldn’t be here in the first place, Eliot.” He turns to look at his friends for their support, but none give it. “Should have kept out of our business.”

“Your business?” Campbell’s tone was darker now, his voice raising in volume. “You came here, with guns, to take stuff that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Like you’ve never stolen anything in your life.”

Campbell nods his head, smirking as he does so, looking at the floor. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip and then bites down on it. I can see his body language change instantly, from relaxed to tense. As if he’s holding back.

It’s then that he takes the gun from his belt and aims it at him. His friends immediately take a step back, a few of them dropping their weapons on the ground. They raise their hands above their heads in surrender and back up.

“Greg, man. It’s not worth it.” They all then chime in, trying to calm Dewey down, to convince him to admit to his wrong doings. But to no avail.

“You got a soft spot for her, do ya Campbell?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.” His grip tightens on the gun.

“Greg, c’mon.”

He throws a look over his shoulder to the group that are slowly retreating. Each one of them with a look of regret on their faces. A few take a seat on the ground, knowing if they try and leave, they will be in the same situation as Greg is now.

I can’t see the expression on his face, but I know for a fact, that it would be one of disapproval at their words.

“Campbell.” His name leaves my lips before I can even process it in my head. My eyes widen in surprise and I cover my mouth with my hand.

He turns to face me without any hesitation and his grip on the gun falters for a moment, his wrist lowering slightly.

That’s when Greg takes the opportunity to grab him. Everything is happening so fast I have no idea what’s going. One moment Greg is grabbing at Campbell’s arms and throwing punches and the next, there is a gunshot echoing through the store. Then there is silence. I look across to the two boys, to find Greg with a shocked expression on his face. His skin pale and eyes brimming with unfallen tears. There’s a bruise starting to bloom on his cheek already and his top lip is split.

Campbell is standing a metre or so away from him, a hand to his left temple, breathing heavy. The gun clutched in his right hand tightly. Neither of them is injured, aside from the bruises and split lip.  

“Dude, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to her.”

Campbell directs Greg’s attention to me.

“I am so sorry. For everything. It was stupid of us – of me, to come here. It was my idea. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Campbell scoffs lightly under his breath, I seem to be the only one that notices.

“Go. But don’t think for one second you’ve got away with this. That was a warning shot, alright? Next time I won’t miss.” Campbell straightens himself up and tucks the gun back into the waistband of his jeans, this time in the front so that everybody can see it. “And Cassandra will want to speak to you all.” He raises his voice so that they can hear him as they swiftly make their way out of the store. The ground now littered with their discarded weapons.

At least they won’t be using them again any time soon.

I tilt my head back and rest it onto the shelf behind me, my heart rate still high and my breathing shallow. I’m oblivious to Campbell taking a seat next to me until he’s knocking his elbow against mine to get my attention.

“Hey, you alright?’

I nod, worried that my words will fail me if I open my mouth. Slipping his sunglasses off of my face, I turn to look at him. His face is a mess, his left temple and cheek are already turning green and purple from the punches Greg delivered. No doubt he’ll have a black eye by the end of the day. And his lip is split, the blood drying already.

“I’m sorry.” He frowns at me, questioning me without words. “About you-, about your face.”

“It’s okay. No need to apologise.” He whispers and he shakes his head.

I reach up and slowly unravel the shirt from around my head. Feeling ridiculous sat here like this. I hold it in my lap, not wanting to give it back without washing it first. Seems a bit unfair when it’s my blood after all.

We sit in silence for a few minutes until we both simultaneously start laughing. After everything that’s happened, this is probably something that neither of us were expecting to occur.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” His words are kind, so unlike what I expected of him.

“Yeah.” Accepting his offer, he stands, holding out his hand for me to take. I slip my hand into his, squeezing, as he pulls me to my fit. My head spins for a moment before it stops, Campbell holding me tightly while I compose myself.

“I’ve gotta ask.” He clears his throat then continues. “You’ve not been staying at your place for a few days now. Where have you been going?”

“You been watching me, Eliot?”

His cheeks blush with embarrassment.

“Just making sure you’re alright is all.”

I nod my head and look at my feet, grinding my toes into the cracks in the tiles.

“I can’t be there on my own. It’s just.” I take a deep breath; it sounds so stupid to say it out loud. “Being an only child, just, it’s so empty. My Mom worked from home, so I was never on my own. This i-, this is the first time.”

When he squeezes my hand reassuringly, I realise that he hadn’t let go of me this whole time.

“Come stay with me.”

“What?”

“Come stay with me, at my place. I won’t ask anything of you. I’ll even cook you dinner.”

“Is that your way of asking me out?”

“Maybe.” He chuckles and leads me out of the store, making sure I don’t trip over anything else.

His hand is in mine the entire way.