#then the second he puts it back in again asking him something else completely irrelevant and stupid

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

i love the idea of bryce just being the most messy and not pretty sleeper on the fucking planet. like he's got baggy fluffy sesame street pajama pants w a neon orange shirt and christmas socks and his hair is always a mess and he usually does a face mask before bed and doesnt always get it all off and he has his mouth guard to stop himself from grinding his teeth and i just,, i love him not being perfect all the time

[whoisshel]

The Gate Pt.1

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington

word count: 3311

tw: swearing, no Eddie but he is mentioned this time

previous part

“Eleven.” Mike sighed in relief, seeing the girl everyone else thought was gone for good standing right in front of them. 

“Mike.” Eleven gasped as they both took a couple of steps forward and fell into a hug.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, just holding each other and crying happy tears so that they could be together again.

“I never gave up on you,” Mike said, pulling back from the hug. “I called you every night. Every night for-”

“353 days.” Eleven finished the sentence. “I heard.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were there? That you were okay?”

“Because I wouldn’t let her,” Hopper answered, walking to Eleven as Mike stepped away confused at what Hopper was talking about. “The hell is this? Where have you been?”

“Where have you been?” Eleven asked back, as Hopper pulled her into a caring hug.

“You’ve been hiding her.” Mike realized what Hopper meant, he jumped at Hopper hitting him on the back. “You’ve been hiding her this whole time!”

Hopper quickly turned around to face the younger boy and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, “Hey! Let’s talk. Alone.”

Hopper took Mike into a bedroom away from everyone. The rest stood by as Eleven walked up to her old friends, happy to be with them again. As Max tried to introduce herself to Eleven, the short-haired girl wanted nothing to do with her and walked over to you.

“Hey, kid.” You smiled, patting Eleven on the head like you did a year ago, “I’m diggin’ the style.”

“Thank you,” Eleven replied, slowly with a shy smile.

“I’m glad you’re back.” You said, softly trying to hold in your tears. Eleven just nodded with the same smile before walking over to Joyce.

“So, that’s the girl with the superpowers,” Steve said once Joyce and Eleven had walked away to the room Will was in.

“Yup.” You replied, plainly. She wasn’t trying to be rude or anything, you were just in your head too much at the moment and still trying not to cry.

“I thought she had a shaved head.”

You turned to look at Steve in complete disbelief at the words that just came out of his mouth, “It’s been a year, Steve, hair grows.”

“I know, but, never mind.” Steve shook his head, not having anywhere to go with that sentence.

Joyce and Eleven walked back in and over to the table in the kitchen. Everyone walked over to them, hearing that they were talking about the gate.

“Do you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?” Joyce asked.

Eleven turned to look at Joyce, taking in the hopeful expression on her face. Eleven then turned back to face forward knowing what she had to do to save them and to save Will.

—----------------

They all stood around the kitchen as they figured out their next move. Joyce explained her idea, but Hopper was a bit apprehensive about it. 

“It’s not like it was before, it’s grown.” Hopper sighed, “A lot. And, I mean, that’s considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs.”

“Demo-dogs.” Dustin interrupted Hopper to correct him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, uh, Demo-dogs. Like Demogorgon and dogs. You put them together, it sounds pretty badass-”

Hopper cut Dustin off, annoyed by his interruption to explain something irrelevant, “How is this important right now?”

“It’s not. I’m sorry.”

“I can do it,” Eleven said, determined.

“You’re not hearing me.” Hopper practically pleaded, not wanting to have the young girl be put into a dangerous situation.

“I’m hearing you. I can do it.” “Even if El can, there’s still another problem.” Mike interjected, “If the brain dies, the body dies.”

“I thought that was the whole point,” Max said, confused at what he was getting at.

“It is, but if we’re really right about this, I mean if El closes the gate and kills the mind flayer’s army…”

“Will’s part of that army.” Lucas finished Mike's explanation.

“Closing the gate will kill him.”

Everyone looked at each other with worry, they had a plan but they didn’t know how to execute the plan without killing Will.

They all walked into Jonathan’s room where Will was lying, still unconscious.

“He likes it cold,” Joyce muttered out loud, but mainly to herself.

“What?” Hopper asked, wondering what she was talking about.

“It’s what Will kept saying to me. He likes it cold.” Joyce walked over to the window and closed it. “We keep giving it what it wants.”

“If this is a virus, and Will’s the host, then…” Nancy started.

Jonathan finished what she was saying, “Then we need to make the host uninhabitable.”

“So if he likes it cold…” Nancy once again started coming up with a plan.

“We need to burn it out of him,” Joyce said with so much anguish thinking about the pain her son is going through already and how much pain they’ll have to put him through to get the mind flayer out of him.

“We have to do it somewhere he doesn’t know this time,” Mike recommended so that this time the mind flayer can’t stop them.

“Yeah, somewhere far away,” Dustin added to Mike’s idea.

Hopper said that he knew a place, so he picked up Will as he explained to Jonathan and Joyce where they were going. While Joyce and Jonathan were going to try and get the mind flayer out of Will, Hopper and Eleven were going to try and close the gate. Which left everyone else to stay at the Byers to wait until everything was complete.

Nancy and Steve were outside looking at the pile of stuff from the shed to find the heater. You were asked to go too, but Steve asked you to stay behind so he could talk to Nancy alone. When he came back in, Steve looked a bit downcast but he had a smile on his face to try and act like he was. You saw right through and went up to him to check on him.

When you walked up to him, you put a hand on his arm, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, um,” Steve nodded as he continued to look at the ground, “I told her to go with him.”

“With Jonathan?”

Steve nodded again, this time he looked at you with a more genuine smile but there was still some sadness in his eyes, “Yeah, but it’s all good she needed to go with him.”

You just nodded, you didn’t want to push him anymore, you already knew what he meant by that.

Steve and you walked outside with the kids to stand on the porch and watch as everyone else left in their separate cars. They all looked back at each other with slight fear at the unknown of how this could go

—----------------

Back inside the house, Dustin was throwing everything out of the fridge to try and make room for the Demo-dog Steve was holding wrapped in a blanket. While you were cleaning up the mess Dustin was making so Joyce didn’t come home to a pile of her food on the ground.

“All right, it should fit now,” Dustin said, once he cleared out the fridge.

“Is this really necessary?” Steve asks, not liking the kid's idea to shove a monster into a fridge.

From your crouched position on the ground, you looked up at the two annoyed, “No, this is ridiculous, Dustin.” 

“Yes, it is, okay?” Dustin insisted, not listening to the older girl's opinion. “This is a ground-breaking scientific discovery. We can’t just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It’s not a dog.”

“All right, all right, all right.” Steve stopped Dustin from continuing his rant. He walked over to the fridge and before he put the thing in the fridge he turned to Dustin, “But you’re explaining this to Mrs. Byers, all right?”

Steve then tried to shove the Demo-dog into the fridge, but was struggling, “Help me out?”

“What am I supposed to do?”

You stood up to get out of their way, chuckling as you did so, loving the struggle these two idiots were putting themselves through.

“Get the door, man, the door.”

“All right, I got the door.”

The two slammed the fridge door shut before the creature could fall back out. As soon as it was shut, they both sighed in relief and Steve gave a pat to Dustin’s head. Hearing the girl behind them continue to chuckle, they both turned to face you with irritation all over their faces.

“Oh, like you could have done better.” Steve sarcastically said.

“Yeah, I could have, because I wouldn’t have tried to shove a monster from another dimension, that has tried to kill us, into a fridge.”

Steve put his hands on his waist and nodded, “That’s fair.”

“What about the scientific discovery?” Dustin whined, looking up at Steve, thinking they were on the same page.

“I just wanted you to shut up.” Steve sighed, walking away to grab a towel to clean his hands of the slime that came from the Demo-dog.

Dustin and you turned to the living room where they could hear Lucas and Mike arguing.

 “That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.” Mike reminded Lucas since he had been the only one of the group that had seen what happened in the lab.

“Demo-dogs!” Dustin yelled as he walked into the living room followed by you.

Not listening to their curly-haired friend's correction, Lucas continued to try and calm Mike, “The chief will take care of her.”

“Like she needs protection,” Max muttered from the ground, where she and Lucas were sweeping up broken glass.

“Listen, dude, a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?” Steve walked in to try and convince Mike that staying at the house was what they were supposed to do, but his analogy didn’t work.

“Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game.” Mike fumed, “And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

“So my point is-” Steve paused, not knowing what else to say, “Right, yeah, we’re on the bench, so, uh, there’s nothing we can do.”

“All right, so you’re done talking,” You put a hand in front of Steve’s chest to get him to stop before bringing it back down and putting your attention to Mike, “Let me try and put this in words you might prefer. The Dungeon Master has given everyone their part in defeating the mind flayer, and since you don’t have superpowers or are possessed by the mind flayer, you are not a protector of one of them. Your job is to sit back and wait not to cause any more problems, okay?”

“That’s not entirely true,” Dustin interjected.

“Well, I don’t completely understand the game-”

“No, I mean, these Demo-dogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bud, they were called away.”

“So, if we get their attention…” Lucas started, seeing what Dustin was getting at.

Max continued Lucas’ idea, “Maybe we can draw them away from the lab.”

“And clear a path to the gate,” Mike added.

“Yeah, and then we all die!” Steve tried to stop the kids from going any further with this idea.

“That’s one point of view.” Dustin disagreed with Steve.

“No, that’s not a point of view, man. That’s a fact.”

“I got it.” Mike gasped, running into the kitchen and everyone followed. He went over to one of the drawings of the map Will created and pointed to a spot, “This is where the chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel.”

Mike walked over to the spot in front of the hallway where a pile of drawn-on papers was on the ground, “Here, right here. This is like a hub. So you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire-”

“Oh, yeah? That’s a no.” Steve sassed, hating this idea even more.

The kids continued with their back and forth as if they all shared one brain.

“The mind flayer would call away his army-”

“They’d all come to stop us-”

You tried to intervene, “No, guys, now way!”

“Would circle back to the exit. By the time they realize we’re gone-”

“El would be at the gate.”

“Hey. Hey! Hey!” Steve clapped his hands, finally getting the kids to stop and look at the teens behind them. “This is not happening.”

“But-” Mike tried to object.

 “No, no, no, no, no.” You cut him off before he could go any further, “There will be no arguing. Steve and I promised that we’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what we plan on doing. We’re staying here and we’re waiting for the others to finish their side quests to defeat the monster. Does everyone understand?”

“This isn’t a D&D game!” Mike argued back.

Steve took the towel off his shoulder, and pointed it at Mike, “She said, does everybody understand that?”

“I need a yes.” You ordered one more time, but before the kids could respond a loud revving of an engine was heard outside.

Max ran over to the window and sat on the couch to look outside, “It’s my brother. He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

Steve and you went outside to wait on the porch for Billy to pull up to the Byers’ house, so they could send him back on his way. 

Billy got out of his car with a cigarette in his mouth, taking a puff he took it out of his mouth smirking, “Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington? And I see you have the Virgin Mary with you.”

“Yeah, it’s us. Don’t cream your pants.” Steve replied in a monotone voice.

“We know that’ll be hard for you since you seem like the premature ejaculation type of guy,” You commented in a bit of a more smart-ass tone.

As Billy took his leather jacket off and put it in his car, Steve stepped off the porch and walked over to him, while you stayed with your arms crossed.

“What are you doing here, amigo?” Billy asked

“I could ask you the same thing. Amigo.”

“Looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here.”

“Huh, that’s weird, I don’t know her.” Steve fibbed to try and get Billy to leave.

“Small? Redhead? Bit of a bitch.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry, buddy.”

“We don’t know her, so leave!” You shouted from your spot.

“You know, I don’t know, this…” Billy sighed dramatically, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth, “This whole situation, Harrington, I don’t know. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh, yeah, why’s that?”

Billy took another puff and shrugged his shoulders, “My 13-year-old sister goes missing all day and then I find her with you two in a stranger’s house. And you both lie to me about it.”

“Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what?” Steve gave a light chuckle, “I don’t know what you don’t understand about what I just said. She’s not here.”

“Then who is that?” Billy pointed over Steve’s shoulder with his cigarette.

Steve and you turned to look at the window where the kids were peeking out of. You looked at them all with wide eyes, mouthing, ‘What the hell’ as they quickly ducked down.

“Oh, shit. Listen-” Billy pushed Steve to the ground before he could finish his sentence.

“I told you to plant your feet,” Billy said, before kicking Steve in the stomach.

You stomped up to Billy and gave him a shove, “What the hell, Hargrove?”

Billy just shouldered you to the ground like she was nothing and continued his walk into the house. You were too in shock to comprehend what was happening and before you knew it you landed on your butt. You caught herself with your hands before you could end up landing on your back. 

You quickly stood up and walked over to Steve to check on him. He was still lying on his side, holding his stomach in pain. You lightly pushed him by his shoulder to get a better look at him and see if there was any other damage.

“Are you okay?” Steve could still only nod as he tried to catch his breath again. “Okay, you’ve got to get up, we need to help the kids. Come on.”

You grabbed Steve by the elbows to pull him up from the ground. Once they were both standing, they charged towards the house where they could hear the kids freaking out. When they walked into the house, they could see Mike, Dustin, and Max watching Billy yell at Lucas.

Steve quietly walked up behind Billy while you stood in front of the kids to block them, as Billy continued to shout at Lucas, “You are so dead, Sinclair! You’re dead.”

“No, you are.” Steve shoved Billy back before landing a hard punch to Billy’s face knocking him over slightly. This gave Lucas enough time to run back over to the rest of them, hugging them all.

Billy stood back up cackling with his nose now bleeding, “Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh? I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about.”

“Get out” Steve growled, pushing Billy back with his two fingers, trying to make space between them after Billy got extremely close.

Billy swung at Steve, but Steve was able to duck in time before coming back up and punching Billy in the face again. Billy fell back onto the table and then turned back laughing again like a maniac.

“Yes! Kick his ass, Steve” Dustin cheered on from behind you.

“Get him!” Mike shouted along with Dustin.

Steve got two more punches into Billy’s face, when Billy grabbed a plate and smashed it on Steve’s head, making Steve stumble back a few steps. Billy stomped forward and punched Steve in the face hard. You pushed the kids back as the boys walked into the living room to continue their fight.

Billy grabbed a hold of Steve's jacket bringing him close to his face, “ No one tells me what to do.”

Billy head-butted Steve, causing Steve to end up on the ground. Billy crouched over to Steve and landed continuous hits to his face. 

You had enough of this lunatic's behavior and advanced towards him landing a harsh kick to his ear. Billy fell off of Steve, holding his ringing ear, he looked up at the girl that just kicked him and let out a loud growl-like scream. Billy stood up and made his way towards you, but before he could get too close you kicked him in the balls.

Billy recovered quickly and practically threw himself at the girl before you could do any more damage. He grabbed you by the throat, pushing you against the wall and lifting you off the ground a few inches. As you gasped for air, you frantically clawed at Billy’s face leaving a couple of scratch marks. You swung your legs around trying to kick, but couldn’t seem to hit anything major. 

Your vision started to go black and your ears began to ring when suddenly you felt yourself fall to the ground. Landing on your hands and knees, you tried to catch your breath reaching a hand towards your throat that no longer had Billy’s harsh grip but still felt tight. You could hear something happening in the room, but couldn’t fully make out the words and your vision was too spotty to see anything.

“Eddie.” You croaked out before falling to the ground and passing out.

[barnesbabee]

𝕯𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑'𝖘 𝕶𝖎𝖘𝖘 - 𝕰𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ᴇɪɢʜᴛ - ɴᴇxᴛ

ATEEZ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

You became wary of your surroundings after the talk with Seonghwa. You tried to maintain composure during work (you didn't want your boss to think you were "off your game" again), but you couldn't help but be suspicious of every new person that walked by you, of every strange sound, and of every shadow.

"Hey Y/N?"

You jolted in your seat at the sound of your colleague's voice.

"You scared me!" You said, laughing as you placed your hand over your heart.

"Oh, sorry!" She said, bowing "we wanna know if you're coming to the company dinner tonight, you still haven't confirmed."

You had completely forgotten about it, seeing as there was shit chasing you, your mind was somewhere else completely.

"Uh, sure! Yeah, count me in." You said with a smile, trying to hide the nervousness of being out in the open.

The woman tapped the frame of the door lightly and smiled, walking away while thanking you for the confirmation.

You weren't sure how safe you felt in an unknown environment, with a bunch of people you also didn't know, so you stood up and ran after her.

"Hold up!"

The other woman stopped and turned around to face you.

"Is it okay to bring a plus one?..." You asked, hoping your "guardian angel" could tag along for some extra protection.

Your colleague gave you a dirty smile and winked.

"Got ourselves a boy toy, have we?"

You felt your face heat up and a lump was caught in your throat.

"Well uh, sort... of?" You replied.

The truth was, there was no label that could possibly be attributed to what you two had, it was more than just an emotional, romantic, or physical connection, it transcended all that.

"We said no plus ones but someone dropped out last minute so I guess it's fine. Does he have any allergies or something? Is he vegan?"

"He's all good! I think..." You whispered that last part, as you weren't sure, but you assumed an immortal being wasn't sensitive to nuts and seafood.

When you sat back down at your desk you grabbed your phone to text Seonghwa about the dinner.

You smiled like a teenage girl in a rom-com talking to her crush, and put your phone away, anxiously (and happily) waiting for the dinner, since it would make you two official.

You realized these mundane things were irrelevant, Seonghwa had risked his own existence and broke the rules of something bigger than anyone on earth to be with you, there was no bigger assurance of the will to spend eternity with someone than what he had done for you, but somehow these small earthly rituals made you feel more at ease, made it all feel somewhat normal.

An hour passed by and you and your co-workers called an Uber to take you to the destination, which you quickly sent to Seonghwa so he could already be there when you arrived.

"Woah- look at that guy... I wouldn't mind it if he joined us for dinner, I know what I'd have..." Your co-worker commented, eyeing Seonghwa up and down the second you stepped out of the car.

"Maybe he will! You commented, and waved your hand in the air "Hey, Seonghwa!"

The man lifted his head and his confused expression turned into a big bright smile as he located you.

"Hello, angel." He greeted you, followed by a kiss, once you walked closer to him.

"Guys this is Seonghwa!" You introduced.

Your co-worker, that had previously commented on him, was red as a cherry.

When you walked into the restaurant she grabbed your shoulder and whispered in your ear.

"Y/N I am so sorry I had no idea! That was incredibly inappropriate I'm sorry!"

You laughed at her panicked expression.

"It's alright, you didn't know!"

She exhaled, relieved that you weren't offended or angry at her, and you sat down at the assigned seats. The waiter brought the menu, and Seonghwa, to your confusion, refused it.

"Have you come here before? Do you just... know the dishes?" You whispered to him.

"No, but I know what I want. I will have the fried chicken." He whispered back, his eyes big and sparkly with excitement, looking right into yours.

"Seonghwa," You said with a little laugh "This is a fancy place, they don't have fried chicken."

You might as well have stabbed him and it would've hurt less. Seonghwa slowly took the menu out of your hands and searched through the items, however, he ended up asking you to order for him since he had no idea what any of it was.

Aside from the struggle of getting Seonghwa to eat fancy food, the dinner went well, and you ended up forgetting about the fact that you were in imminent danger. The night went so well, in fact, that you ended up at a club. You were all way overdressed for the occasion since you had all come dressed in formal attire, but after the wine and occasional champagne back at the restaurant, neither of you cared.

"Hey, I'm getting another caipirinha, mmkay?" You slurred in Seonghwa's ear.

"You stay here with them, I'll go get it." He said, afraid that something would manage to grab you and run away amidst the confusion of the crowd near the bar.

Not long after Seonghwa left your line of sight, a man appeared in front of you. His waist was slim, hugged beautifully by his jeans, and accentuated by the fact that his shirt was tucked in, his shoulders were wide, his jaw prominent, and his lips were red and pouty. You snapped out of it once you realized you were checking him out, and the man didn't miss it either, you could tell, by the way a dimple appeared on his left cheek, the result of his smirk.

"Sorry," the man said, coming in closer so he could whisper in your ear, as his hand made its way to your hip "but I couldn't help but notice you, you're the most fucking beautiful person I've ever seen."

The man slowly pulled you closer to him, and you allowed your body to mold against his for some reason- you couldn't pull away.

"I have a boyfriend." You managed to squeak out.

"Well, he isn't here, but I am."

"I don't even know your name..."

"My name? My name is San, but you can call me anything you want."

Two of his fingers tipped your chin up and his lips slowly approached yours.

You couldn't pull away, something in you drew you to him, you wanted to have him right then and there, your mind was clouded and you were incapable of even picturing Seonghwa's face, all that you could think of, every moment spent with your boyfriend, was replaced by the image of this man you just met. Your body moved as if it was being puppeteered, as if you had no free will.

"Y/N, what the fuck!?" You heard in the background.

The voice was familiar, but even then you could not pull away, and you could see San smirking, you could feel something was wrong, but you could not move.

It wasn't until Seonghwa physically pushed San away from you that you were able to come back to your senses. There were immediate tears in your eyes, a million ways to apologize ran through your mind and you looked at your limbs and torso as if you had had an out-of-body experience and had just gained control of it again.

You were about to try to explain to Seonghwa what happened (even if you didn't know what had happened), until Seonghwa spoke.

"You..." He said, looking at San, his voice dripping with disgust, rage, panic, and fear. You could see his blackened veins peeking out of his collar, and his stance had completely changed from an offensive state to a defensive one.

San stretched out his arms and smirked once more - it seemed like that was his only facial expression.

"Ta-daaa! Surprise old friend!"

Taglist: @seiiblue​ @potaeto-writes-on-wp@songsoomin@whatudowhennooneseesyou@hjys99@sansmilkbread@hwalysm @iwannabemyselfff (DM or send an Ask if you want to be added)

[godstrain]

he's been waiting for this chance- longer than he'd ever admit, he's been waiting for the chance to kiss chris redfield until the younger man could think of nothing else- until the world fell away around them, and all of the fears and agonies of the past would be lifted from the both of them- but to think that it would be like this-

chris would always be one to defend those who needed it. chris had become the captain that wesker had once pretended to be / or maybe, he really had been that person, but did it matter now? now that he'd made his choices, now that he was facing what he'd done; whoever he could've been as captain albert wesker was irrelevant, because he hadn't become that person. but chris did. chris, with his heart that could hold the world-

wesker had learned to live with the dread of losing chris for good. and not to another person; chris had every reason to be with someone else, and it wasn't like wesker had given any indication of what he wanted. because he'd decided that it was stupid, a dream that wouldn't come to be. how could it? with everything that had happened between them- no, what he feared was losing chris to the hands of death. chris was only human, and he faced down horrors that only the most twisted of human minds could ever dream of.

it really put things into perspective. it drove home every single reason that this, this was a horrible idea.

not that something being a horrible idea had ever stopped albert wesker from acting on it. he'd add this to the list.

he's standing there before chris in a flash, grabbing the other by the lapels of his coat, pulling him in for a kiss. and wesker kisses chris as if he knows this is the last time they'll ever see each other. because time is passing and chris is getting older and wesker hasn't changed- he hasn't aged a goddamn day since he came back to life in the wreckage of the mansion. and he knows chris is strong, but even the strongest human couldn't stop the sands of time. rationally, chris still has plenty of time, but he's put himself in situation after situation and wesker isn't thinking rationally- he pulls away only for a moment, before he kisses chris again.

i'll miss you. i'm sorry. i wish i had told you sooner and maybe we wouldn't be here. i'm terrified that you'll run off and get yourself killed- each kiss is a confession that he never could put into words. he fights the urge to simply hold onto chris- to hold him tight and never let him go. he's more than strong enough to hold chris down, at least physically-

but chris still has a heart that could hold the world, and if wesker was really going to try to do right for once in his life, he couldn't be selfish like that. he had to do everything that he didn't want to. he had to let chris go.

and so he does. gently / slowly, giving himself the time to remember the feeling. he watches chris from the shadows then, as he leaves with the hound wolf squad.

he counts the seconds, minutes, hours, days. he runs on autopilot, doing what he needs to so that he can survive- as if he wants to survive in a world without chris redfield. the more time passes, the more he fears the worst. he knows that he can't simply ask someone if chris is alive-

and then, he comes back. chris comes back alive. chris is alive, and wesker decides on complete irrationality again, because it doesn't matter. nothing else really matters but this / he was foolish to think he ever really needed anything else. but this time, his kiss is shy- because it's such a ridiculous notion. he really shouldn't be kissing chris redfield, because chris deserves better (and much to his chagrin, there is better out there. wesker isn't a god- he's hit with this truth every day. it's been burned into him, that delusion has ruined him and chris deserves something whole and good and certainly more than what was left of albert wesker-), but he's selfish still, and he's happy. he's happy chris is alive and he has no other way to express it. he's always been better at actions than words.

chris is back and wesker doesn't care if the rest of the hound wolf squad locks him away (as if they could / he knows they probably could, he's strong, but he'll never be what he used to be- and that's for the best). they could do whatever they wanted- and maybe he'd be mad about it later. for now, all that matter was that chris was alive. chris came back alive and wesker had acted on what he wanted- twice, now (if he counted the first frantic time as just once).

he thinks he could die satisfied.

��� a kiss after receiving good news or a last kiss before one goes away . ( nervously sending in one eek— ) › @valour-bound

kisses (why not both!)

[opalthea]

[ Entry #4 : He Said He'd Change. ]

Event-based writing (for Astro Attorney,) selfship.

Somewhere in Fontaine...

✧.

In this small, humble home, was a heartbroken wife, inconsolable as she wept. Her lips never stopped for a second as she recalled every little thing she knew about her husband — the things she knew that she wished she didn't, and desperately wished wasn't real — and yet, they tremble and pause, quivering every time she remembered a detail that she missed. A detail that further proved that her accusations couldn't be JUST accusations alone.

"I'm so sorry." Esther frowned, instinctually wrapping up her client in a gentle embrace. Unfortunately, it only made her cry harder, her tears leaving marks on Esther's white blouse. It didn't matter, though, not to her, because she couldn't imagine how much pain she would be in, if this was her.

If this had been her.

Out of courtesy, Heizou slipped out of the room, and excused himself as he searched around the house. He said something about 'looking for the water from the Primordial Sea' and 'anything about his frequent outings', so she'll leave all that to her trusty detective. He has got his intuition, he would be fine on his own for a bit.

Her client whimpered, again, as her hands balled up the back of Esther's perfectly ironed, white blouse. "I just— How could-" she sniffled, and Esther felt compelled to rub her back soothingly, "no matter how bad things are, we wouldn't have- I wouldn't have..."

How horrifying. Downright cruel.

If marriage was a sign of love, trust, and effort, then how could a man not think twice? How could a man's first thought when a fight breaks out, be to kill someone?

Not just someone, too. His own wife.

She already hated men in general. If this was the rate — what with that crazy lunatic and the missing girls that he had dissolved — she was about to start actually doing crimes.

However, she was merely an attorney in this.. game that she was in. There was nothing else for her to do but complete the commission, and protect this woman.

"You didn't deserve that," she had murmured, frowning- no, glaring at the floor beneath them. As if the floor was the man she sought to put an end to. "Thank you for telling us everything, Mrs. Cecilia. Thank you for trusting us. I swear, I'll put this man in jail for good."

".. You really don't have to go that far-"

"He attempted a murder. It is more reason enough, and if it isn't, I'll take it up to Lady Furina herself if need be."

Cecilia suddenly stopped hiccuping and sniffling, and instead sent a wary look towards Esther.

"... You would actually go up against the Archon of Fontaine? I don't believe you."

She could only reply with a shrug and a hum. "I would do just about anything so I could make sure my beloved wouldn't cry like you did."

(Little did she know. Archons, little did she know.)

"Is she alright?" Asked Heizou, appropriate concern clearly in his voice. He did not want to intrude in her private space, much less be in between them while they talked - he respected whatever it was that women shared, in this odd, unexplainable way.

To his question, Esther sighed. "As alright as any girl could be."

She watched him drop his hand from his chin, and then take out a book from the shelves in Cecilia's living room. It looked like it had a leather cover, some sort of diary, perhaps? Whatever it was, it had Heizou's eyes trained on it, so it was probably something worth investigating.

From what they both knew, his name was Antoine Martin — Esther thought he'd have a very typical name, and that he wouldn't be a popular face, and she was damn right — and he worked as a bellboy in Hotel Blanche. Again, an irrelevant guy. He was described as an artificial-blonde man with a goatee, and wore these obnoxious glasses (her words, not Cecilia's), and had always been too forward in the things he did.

She wondered how exactly someone like him caught the gentle Cecilia's eyes.

Heizou clicked his tongue when he read the content of the book, snapping her out of her rather villainous thoughts.

"What's wrong?" She asked, worry dripping slowly into her tone. He quickly looked up at her, realizing he had alerted her, and shook his head.

"Nothing's wrong, my love," he sheepishly smiled, but there was a strain to it, "just... Have a look at this."

She does. She walked up right next to him, and peeked at what he had been scanning.

Huh.

"There's no way he's this stupid, right? He had Cecilia fooled... For years? And he wrote all these down?"

Heizou could only laugh at her dumbfounded expression, he too in disbelief. "Oh, but sweetheart..." He nuzzled his face into her hair, sighing in her scent and trying his best to contain his giddyness, as a 'treasure chest' opened before his very eyes. "This would be just the beginning to a whole lot of surprises."

After all, that man foolishly believed that his pretty flower would just wilt after drinking that water.

A trial was held as soon as their investigation came to an end, as per Heizou's clever plan.

Esther would argue, and say she was definitely as smart as he was, but when met with emotions — the feeling of vengeance creeping up on her skin when she faced Antoine's cheating ass — she had to admit that Heizou was ultimately the better one between them... At least, for now.

She was proud of him, too, but let's not stroke his ego this early. ♡

Lady Furina took her place in court, with a frown upon her usually arrogant face. Anyone would agree that she was furious, this Archon who enjoyed drama, performances, and twists. After all, one of her own people had committed a serious offense — not only did he attempt a murder by using the Primordial Sea's water, which had been forbidden ever since the case with Vacher, he had also been in touch with the people who formerly worked with Varcher, buying them constantly to get away with more crimes.

The Chief Justice's voice boomed in court as he listed down his wrongdoings: serial murders of other Fontainians, attempted murder, theft, kidnap, assault, so on and so forth. Many lives were affected by one man alone.

A twisted kind of hatred bubbled inside Esther as she smiled sickeningly sweet, and Heizou held her hand tight. Not that she needed any comforting, really...

Mrs. Cecilia was about to request a divorce, too, under the circumstances, before the defense attorney interrupted.

"Your Honor, if I may, my client is not guilty. If it was true that a slight altercation broke out between the couple, and if Mr. Antoine had truly hurt Mrs. Cecilia, where is the proof?" He had said, this defense attorney. "As far as medical records show, there had been no bruising, nor notable injuries on her body. Could we really say that Mr. Antoine had wrecked his own household, if Mrs. Cecilia had intended to make it seem as if it was only him to blame?"

At that moment, all hell broke loose.

A lovely, little songbird hid into the nest it made in a furious, lion's mane.

[ To Whom This May Concern. ]

This small piece today will cover a lot of heavy topics, so I'm sorry to all readers that would feel uncomfortable by reading this. At the very least, please be aware of the people around you, and cherish those you truly love.

First of all, I'd like to extend my sincerest apologies to my client for the events that had unfolded yesterday. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, you deserve so much better than three years of nothingness with a lowlife like that. May you find peace wherever you go now, and a support group who could treat you with the care and respect that was overdue.

Secondly, I genuinely cannot find the words to express how disgusted I am with the way this commission had been treated. It had affected many lives, and yet, so many see this as another tale to tell. Excuse my language, but can you not comprehend the horrors of which my client and the victims had to go through? If you want to talk about beauty, and how every real story is a beauty in literature, I get it, but please keep it to yourselves.

Those who are struggling with marital problems, and need to reach out to someone, please do not hesitate to come forward. If no one else, I would be willing to help. Stay safe.

- Esther.

© faesther . Do not repost, rework, or translate any of my works.

Astro Attorney Bias Game.

[ah0rmone]

dazai osamu x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, minors, dni! dubcon if you squint because the reader finds dazai annoying but attractive, non-consensual touching (at first), enemies/rivals to fuck buddies I guess?, fingering, vaginal penetration.

there are literally two self-defence techniques from here and here

"Why it has to be you?" you grumbled looking at the person who stood in front of you.

"Oh, who else would you like to see as your teacher? Kunikida-kun who's doing everything according to instructions, even fighting? Ranpo-kun who won't lift a finger unless it's a murder case? Or Tanizaki-kun who's always followed by Naomi-chan?"

The obnoxious man in front of you was called Osamu Dazai and, to be fair, you'd actually prefer any other agency member over him. Sure, he definitely had combat experience and, probably, wasn't that bad at teaching, given that Atsushi was still following him. But something about him was off and you didn't like it. Nor that you had any choice, Dazai was there for a reason and that reason was Fukuzawa's order.

"Whatever," you sighed. "Can we get to it already?"

Today was the day when you were supposed to learn some self-defence techniques. Your ability wasn't really of a combat type, so you never participated in fights but it didn't mean that you had a zero possibility of running into problems. It was your own request to be taught how to protect yourself.

However, you didn't feel quite confident at all. You genuinely hated conflicts and tended to avoid people, so all of this was a somewhat essential but still itchy experience. Your sporty shorts and a skintight top wasn't helping the situation either. Especially, since a person with who you were going to get quite close physically was a rather attractive young man. You and Dazai weren't that close, just colleagues who barely communicated. For you he was just as attractive as he was annoying - you wouldn't mind having a fling with him but nothing more. Maybe it was the way he carried himself: overly cheerful, loud and noisy. Or maybe it was the things he was hiding: his true mischievous, manipulative personality.

Taking a deep breath you reminded yourself that it was your idea, something that your survival depended on and that you just had to get over it.

"Usually you're not the one who fights, y/n-chan. So what are we doing here?" Dazai asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

His eyes were gleaming with a vicious sparkle. Your power imbalance was uncomfortable to you. You shrugged, the feeling that he was a big cat and you were his meal strongly sat in your guts.

"I'm here to learn how to defend myself. Like some easy techniques. I'm not very strong, keep it in mind," you reminded with a well-controlled flat voice but some notes of irritation would have been apparent even to the densest person.

Osamu didn't answer, instead, he let his fake smile turn into a smirk. For a moment the room fell into silence and you could swear that your heart was beating too loud. Both of you just stared at each other for some seconds until the smile returned on Dazai's lips and the man joyfully clapped.

"Okay, gotcha! First of all," he took a step closer. "The most important thing in fighting is a stable stance. Stand like this," he put the left leg forward and motioned you to follow him.

Hesitantly you mirrored his stance, the feeling of embarrassment washing over you. It wasn't even the physical activity that you hated but the way Dazai was gazing at you. Predatory eyes were gliding over your skin like he was analysing your tiniest movements. Like he was about to pounce.

Just as you anticipated, once you've finished copying him, Osamu clicked his tongue and stood up.

"No, y/n-chan, you're doing it wrong."

You were about to argue but Dazai was already behind you. Suddenly painfully aware of the warmth of his body you tried to move from him but he was quick to put a hand on your hip.

"Let me help you," his hot breath ran over the shell of your ear making you flinch a little.

While you were contemplating whether you should allow him to be that close, Dazai had already brushed his palm down your leg. Now he was standing next to you, your bodies touching.

"There," he encouraged, moving your leg a little further by the back of your knee. His other hand was still placed on your hip and such a position was taking away any personal space you had before.

"Thanks," you muttered, feeling the light smell of his cologne.

"Now you're standing rather steady, aren't you?" he beamed with his hand still on your leg.

"Ah, yeah," you muttered, grabbing him by the wrist and pushing it off yourself then taking a step back. "Guess, we can move to the actual stuff now."

"Y/n-chan!" Dazai exclaimed. "The stance is very important, I didn't show it for fun!"

You saw the man's lips curl into a pout but either than that he didn't display any sign of irritation by you pushing him away. Keeping that in mind you decided that even though he might not have any ill intentions you should stay on guard.

Something dropped behind the door and as you inverted your gaze to the sound you felt your hair being grabbed.

"What," you didn't even have the chance to end the question instantly being pushed to the wall.

Your colleague's right hand was holding firmly your hair, the other one gripping your waist. You tried to push back, but to no avail - his whole body was pushing you to the wall.

"Dazai," you growled.

"Too bad, y/n-chan," he cooed. "How can you protect yourself when you have such a short attention span? Look at you - one move and you're helpless."

The sting of resentment piercing through your heart encouraged you to grumble through the teeth:

"I told you I'm weak."

"And stupid apparently," he gibbed.

"Listen," you tried to free yourself but instead just shook your hips clumsily. "If you came here just to insult me, let's end it, I'll ask Fukuzawa-san to send someone else," voice full with venom, you wanted to be as far from Dazai as possible but instead felt with dread as your hips bucked into his. You jolted forward fighting for the tiniest bit of space.

If Dazai noticed, he didn't show it as there was no reaction whatsoever. However, your little touch wasn't the only thing he ignored:

"Let me instead show you how to deflect it," he proposed, paying no heed to your words.

He backed up and you got a chance to glance at him with unhidden irritation. He met your gaze with a cheesy smile like he wasn't a person degrading you a couple of seconds ago. However, giving it a little bit more thought you exhaled and nodded. After all, you should've picked up something from this lesson, not just the revelation that Dazai was a total dick and you wouldn't want him to be near you ever again.

You moved from the wall and this time he gripped your hair slowly.

"What you want to do now is to grab my hand by both of yours, then stand back to the stance I showed you earlier, turn underneath the arm, so that you twist it and when the person lets go, just bolt. Got it?"

You hummed in acknowledgement. Perhaps it wasn't that difficult. Perhaps, at the end of the day, the lesson would be fruitful.

"Try it then," he prompted and then tugged at your hair lightly.

Following his instructions, you grabbed his hand and as you were about to go underneath his arm, he spun you. His arm was firmly holding your throat.

"No, y/n-chan, I've told you your stance was wrong," he whined. "Let me show you again."

"What just happened?" you asked confusedly but he already was spreading your legs.

Osamu didn't answer, too busy putting you in the right stance. And you tried your best to concentrate on how your legs were placed instead of his fingers brushing over your ass a couple of times, once getting a little bit too close to your clothed vagina.

"Just like this," he said and his hand slid up from your knee to your waist getting under the top a little.

From your point of view, the skinship was completely irrelevant but you decided to keep your sharky comments to yourself. For now, you were going to follow his instructions and maybe you could avoid the conflict.

Maybe not.

This time around when you were trying to deflect his arm, once again he outpowered you. You cursed as he said with disappointment in his voice (you were pretty sure it was the fake one, he was enjoying it, that bastard):

"You're too slow, y/n-chan. Do you think attackers would just stand there and watch as you crawl your way out of their grip as a turtle in slow-mo?"

"Dazai, I'd appreciate it if you-"

"Again," he cut you harshly, puppeting you around like you were nothing but a doll.

His attitude towards you was so demoralizing you were fighting the urge to end it here and there. Losing all the motivation and looking exhausted, you tried to go through the motion again but Dazai wasn't having it.

"Hm, y/n-chan, kinda feels like you're not trying hard enough. Should I give you a motivation boost?" he exclaimed cheerfully but before you could say that he should go fuck himself he had already pushed you to the wall. Again.

You were expecting harsh words pouring from his mouth, but instead, it was the kisses as he roughly pulled your hair baring your neck for him. The hot tongue travelled from your shoulder to the globe of your ear, prompting you to jolt. Once again you attempted to push him away but could barely move. His left hand was pinning your wrist and his right one was painfully tagging at your hair, cranking your head to the side.

"Dazai," you wanted to let him know that you understood his intentions but he needed to stop when a not so gentle bite quickly shut you up.

He was licking and nipping leaving hickeys at your poor neck. You were squirming and whirling under his touch not giving up yet, so he thrust his hips into yours. There was no way you could keep any sounds in, so a whiny moan escaped your lips. You felt Dazai stopping, a satisfied smirk on his lips, then without saying a word, he continued torturing your sensitive neck. Two things were clear to you: a strong lust was taking over your body which meant that you were slowly losing yourself and that Dazai had just started playing with you, there were more to come.

Dazai. Dazai! Realising who was the man behind you, you tried to gain back control. Osamu was just being a bully, whywere you letting him see you in such a state? He certainly didn't deserve nor your moans, nor your hips grinding his.

You were thinking this but it took everything in you to not just give in to his touch. While you were having an internal battle, Dazai pulled away with a loud pop.

"Five."

"Five what?" you mewled weakly.

"There are five hickeys on your neck," Dazai murmured. "You look so good, all red and moaning. When you can't even do anything. You've been definitely enjoying it, sure you still want to continue learning self-defence techniques?"

You widened your eyes at his words.

"Excuse me?!" you exploded. "What the hell are you implying?!"

With all force, you shoved him in the side with an elbow. Dazai hissed and even though the attack was fairly weak he let go.

"I mean, no kink-shaming," he put hands in the air surrendering.

"What's your problem?!"

It was hard for you to overcome your desire of slapping him but no way in hell you were staying in one room with him for another second. You bolted but Dazai was quicker, catching your hand.

"Where're you going? For a moment there I thought you didn't agree and wanted to continue," he quipped. "Come on, that was just one technique."

"Dazai, let me go," you growled yanking your hand free. "I've had enough of you today, I'm leaving."

You had already turned to leave when he pulled you to the ground. You snorted in frustration, your legs fiercely kicking but the lack of strategy played against you and there you were - trapped under him. Osamu was sitting between your legs with his arms pinning yours to the ground.

You felt unbearably hot and weak, your cunt throbbing against his groin. His face was hanging right above yours, so close you could feel his breath. Unintentionally your eyes focused on his lips then you looked up. Only now you noticed how lustful his gaze was. He clearly was a winner today and he was about to enjoy his prize. As you licked your lips, your recognised your mistake - now your eagerness was more than obvious.

"I'm just parched," you faltered but it sounded pathetic even to you.

"I'm sure you are," Osamu whispered, sitting back. "One more technique and I'll let you go." His fingers gripped your thighs.

Since his weight was off you now, you felt kind of cold. Not knowing where to place your arms, you were about to put them next to your sides when Dazai commanded you to keep them still.

That position was too sexy for your liking - arms are placed next to your head, legs spread. All of it without his control felt like you were offering yourself to him. Like you were submitting. The man was clearly savouring it because his gaze was so intense, in the end, you even had to avert yours.

Dazai clearly didn't like it, tapping your left thigh:

"Look at me, y/n-chan, how else are you supposed to learn?"

You slowly turned back, embarrassed as your eyes darted all over him until they abruptly stopped at his crotch. There was a visible boner in his pants. When Osamu followed your gaze and loudly chuckled you felt your cheeks grow hot and desire growing stronger.

"Concentrate, y/n-chan," Dazai said amusingly but the only thing you could concentrate on was the wetness between your legs. You feared it might start to be visible through your shorts.

"Look, if someone got you into this position," Osamu continued like both of you didn't want the same thing and that thing was to fuck. "You have to keep your arms straight and put them on your shoulders, like this," he gently took your hands and placed them as he instructed. "Then you should put your leg on my hip," he tried to do it for you once again but your leg was wobbly. All the strength you had was wasted on keeping your arms straight.

Dazai sighed theatrically but he couldn't keep a vicious sparkle in his eyes.

"Y/n-chan," he whinged. "You're such a bad student. Weak. Stupid," his fingers were slowly stroking your thigh. "Having a short attention span. Don't you think that you should have concentrated on learning some stuff instead of thinking about my cock?" With this question his arm groped your ass, pulling you closer.

He gripped your hips and you let out a moan. Now you weren't trying to hold back. You were already a loser, might as well enjoy it. Being a tease he was, Dazai wasn't ready to give you everything right then and there but you were having none of it. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer by his collarbone. Osamu certainly wasn't ready for such a force so he confusingly complied.

"Call me stupid one more time and I'm leaving," you warned him, a confident smirk playing on your lips.

Dazai's face quickly changed from surprised to a perverse one. He dropped down on you, pinning you with his whole body and slammed his hips into yours. As you moaned he caressed your face, lovingly brushing your hair, and then whispered:

"I'm gonna break you, pretty doll."

With one swift motion, he put your wrists in one hand pinning it above your head, his tongue running over your lips then dragging you into a deep kiss. As you two were hungrily kissing each other you felt his fingers crawling under your waistband. You jolted, an instinct of placing your hand over his acting up but he was still holding you firmly. He ran one finger over your cunt but you were already shaking, silently begging for more.

"Dazai," you moaned desperately asking him to get down to business.

"You're so wet, y/n-chan," he licked your earlobe making you writhe. "I wish I teased you a little bit more," he started to kiss your jaw getting lower and lower. "I said that I'd break you but it seems you're already at your limit," he chortled, helping you to take your top and bra off.

"You look so beautiful," he murmured once you were almost fully naked in front of him.

Suddenly his gaze turned soft and you felt even more aroused than you before. Gladly the man wasn't planning on wasting any time as he started to lick, nip and bite one of your nipples, playing with his fingers with another. Moaning lewdly and rutting your hips you put your hand into his hair, curling soft strands in your fingers.

When he finished playing with your tits, he wanted to go further down, to place kisses on your lower stomach, but you decided to get back at him. Placing your straight hands on his shoulders, you put a leg on his thigh just as he instructed and squirmed out of his grip.

"You talk about me but look at yourself," you shoved a knee between his thighs, pushing it at his boner. "You were hard even before I started to feel something else besides irritation."

Now it was Osamu whose breath hitched. You were savouring your little win when he looked back at you with a dangerous grin. That was when you realised you fucked up. He quickly grabbed your leg and turned you over on the stomach. Laying down on you, he harshly seized your hair and hissed:

"A+ for learning the technique, but your attitude towards you teacher," he took off your shorts with pants nearly ripping them. "Needs some correction."

That was when the sound of a loud slap broke the silence of the room. You jolted, a gasp leaving your lips. You tried to crawl from him but his grip on your hair was strong.

"Come on, y/n-chan, it was just one slap. Don't you think you deserve it?" The hand that hit you was stroking your bruised ass cheek.

"It fucking hurt," you spit.

"Was it?" Dazai chuckled. "Say that you're sorry."

"For what?" you raged but another hit was your answer.

"Dazai, stop," you sobbed.

"Wrong," he retorted slapping your ass again. "Plus, if you don't like it why are you leaking so much?"

You embarrassingly bit a lip at his remark.

"A little bit of masochistic, are you?" Dazai noted. "Well, if you insist, I can keep on going."

You knew that both of you were barely holding it, so you decided to submit. Just this once.

"I'm sorry!" You squealed after another hit.

"Good girl," Osamu placed a soft kiss on your back still not letting go of your hair. "Now it's time for a treat."

And with that, he finally pushed the first finger into you. Since you were so wet there was a little pool under you, Dazai successfully pushed another finger shortly after. You quivered and jerked your hips begging him to move. This time around your colleague decided not to tease you.

As his fingers were pumping in and out of you, you were trying to push your head down to steady yourself but Dazai didn't let go. You were completely at his will.

"'m close," you mewled, your eyes rolling back.

Dazai hummed in acknowledgement and withdrew his hand. You groaned offendedly but heard the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped and then felt something else rubbing at your entrance.

Finally, Osamu positioned himself behind you and pushed inside, your pussy stretching obediently. The fullness made you gasp pervertedly. As he started moving your mind went completely blank. The only thing that existed for you at that moment was Dazai and his cock inside of you. He let go of your hair, one hand now was holding your hips and another one was giving attention to your clit.

You had no idea how he was still holding on but once your sensitive bud got stimulated you quickly come undone.

"Once more," Dazai panted while moving and playing with your clit simultaneously.

Even though you were tired, you had actually felt desire growing again. Osamu was just way too good for you to resist. You thought that the only thing he was chasing was his high, but he didn't cum until you orgasmed again denying himself every time he got too close. That's why when you cummed for the second time you did it toghether.

He rolled off you, but you couldn't move even a finger, for a moment you've gone completely numb. Your chest was going up and down with heavy breaths, your heart was racing. None of you spoke because you didn't know what to talk about. Especially, since you, personally, felt way too embarrassed to admit that you had just cummed two times because of an annoying Dazai Osamu.

"Looks like we ended in time!" Dazai chirped after some time and you looked at the clock realising that you spent here one hour. Just like it was promised.

"Wish I had actually learned something though," you remarked lazily, trying to pull on your shorts back. You just had to make it to the shower room and then wear your casual clothes. However, your pants were completely ruined.

"Well, if you think that you need another one, just let me know," you looked back at Dazai and his smirk told you that he wasn't meaning the self-defence lessons. You felt your cheeks grow hot again.

"Yeah, sure," you muttered, awkwardly leaving the training room.

From now on you intended on avoiding Dazai whenever it's possible.

Little did you know he had other plans.

[dracowars]

LOVED YOUR TOM RIDDLE. Can I please request a arranged marriage au where yn is in love with him but he hates her so when she decides to let him go or someone else wants to marry her, Tom finally realises he’s in love with her. happ ending :))))

my heart belongs to you | tom riddle

pairing: tom x black!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where tom and y/n are in an arranged marriage

a/n: i'm so sorry for being so inactive recently, uni is taking its toll on me.. i had to do a bit of research for this one and also tom is a pureblood here!

warnings: toxic relationship, violence

universe: harry potter

“Get out of my sight, will you?”, he angrily snaps at you out of nowhere, for the third time already on this still very early day. Furiously, he stomps past you, pushing you to the side harshly, the filled glasses on your tray swaying dangerously. Knowing that you should just leave him alone, you stand there completely frozen at the door, still feeling the breeze on your skin after he stormed past you.

The glasses clink on the serving tray as you try to keep your trembling hands under control, but you terribly fail while tears shoot into your eyes. A lump forms in your throat and you gasp in desperation, losing your composure after hearing the front door slam shut.

Slowly, you slump down and therefore with a loud rattle let happen what could have been foreseen already: a thousand shattered pieces of glass scattered across the floor around you while you cower against the wall, your elegant dress pulled over your knees, your forehead leaning against it. Heavy sobs rock through your body and tears find their way down your cheeks, dripping from your chin onto the expensive fabric of your dress.

You just wanted to spend some time with him. Together, in the house of your parents, who went on a daily trip with their close friends early in the morning, all part of the most notorious popular pureblood families in the wizarding world – the Nott’s, the Macmillan’s, the Malfoy’s, the Lestrange’s. And if his parents were still alive, probably with the Riddle’s as well.

This is primarily the reason why you even are in this position right now; crying and huddled in the living room because your fiancé hates you profoundly.

After graduating from Hogwarts last year, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you, descendant of the pureblood Black family, got engaged to Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last living heir of the Riddle’s. He would offer you a good future, they said, and you would never have to worry about anything again.

But nobody knows that in reality, your own beloved fiancé really does not want to have anything to do with you. He does not even want to stay in the same room as you.

You can’t explain why he acts like this towards you. You do not know why he harbors such an abysmal hatred for you and any clear-headed, rational person would have done something about it long ago. Unfortunately for you, you feel the exact opposite for him.

Your heart belongs to him and only to him.

You have liked him since you first met him at Hogwarts, back in 1938, when the two of you were sorted into the Slytherin house. This initial friendly liking has quickly evolved into something more than that over the years and lead you to where you are now, at a point where you would have never seen yourself back then.

You have already tried everything to convince him that you are not as bad as he seems to think. Every morning you bring him his breakfast, you give him everything he needs. Even when you were still at Hogwarts, you always looked after him, finished his homework for him when he was too busy to do it by himself, and helped him pass all of his exams.

And not once did you hear a thank you. Not then and not now either.

Slowly gathering your thoughts together again, you rub the long sleeves of your velvet dress over your damp face, wiping away all of your tears before you get up on shaky legs and begin to clean up the mess that you have created. After you went back to the kitchen with the broken pieces and some injuries on your hands, your gaze longingly slides out the window.

Outside, the sun stands high over the magnificent garden of the mansion, making the clear water in the fountain shimmer in its bright light. A gentle breeze blows through the air and rustles through the perfectly cut trees that line a small path through the garden.

The loud, excited voices that suddenly roar through the house snap you out of your daydream and you quickly wipe the blood from your fingers before you step into the huge marble entrance hall. You arrive at the front door just in time to open it for your parents, who, to your surprise, did not come back alone. You are amazed to find not too familiar faces in front of you as they climb up the stairs to the door where you are still standing.

“And that has to be Y/N. Oh, how you have grown!”, an older man smiles friendly at you and you return his smile with a certain uncertainty in your face.

“Darling, we brought guests over for dinner today. You surely remember the Lestranges?”, your father announces happily and only now do the faces that you have seen at numerous balls and celebrations seem familiar again. Especially one.

“Reinhard?”, you ask in amazement when you spot him standing behind his parents, a big smile on his face when he sees you.

“Y/N, how nice to see you again”, he grins, carefully pushing his way past your parents in order to slightly bow venerably to you, taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. “It has been some time.”

“I am sure you have a lot to tell each other”, your mother mentions in a sweet voice, but before she can continue, she watches how your facial expression changes from one second to the other as you look past them, out into the yard.

Next to the carriage with which they have returned, Tom is standing now, petting one of the splendid noble white horses before he joins all of you.

“Tom! There you are, I was already wondering where you went”, your father says, visibly pleased when he too spotted his future son-in-law, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Reinhard?”

“Tom?”

Within a few seconds, the two former best friends lay in each other’s arms, obviously happy to finally see the other again.

“Let us go inside. We want to show you our newest masterpiece of art in our wonderful collection, come on”, your mother announces happily and leads the Lestranges inside, but not without turning around to you once more. “The children can catch up on what they have missed.”

“I can’t believe it! You are really here, Tom. Man, you look even better than at Hogwarts”, Reinhard laughs, playfully pushing Tom to the side while you watch them in silence. “What are you doing here with the Blacks?”

“They kindly took me in”, Tom lies to him and for a moment you think he threw you a glance out of the corner of his eyes after uttering these words. His statement makes Reinhard realize that you were still there with them, who had apparently completely forgotten that you were even there.

“I am so happy to see you again, Y/N!”, he grins and takes a step closer to you, probably to be able to take a closer look at you. “Still just as beautiful as I imagined. And just as smart, I guess?”

Reinhard’s sudden compliments make you blush and your cheeks glow, which is why you nervously avert your gaze from him, directly falling on Tom, who looks at the scene in front of him with incredible resentment.

Unlike Tom, Reinhard was always there for you. You spent a lot of time together in your school days and if your parents had known about your close friendship, you are sure that he would have been your fiancé by now. Which, to be honest, does not sound bad anymore right now.

And yet your heart still belongs to Tom.

When you all sit together at dinner later in the evening, where your parents are talking about irrelevant things like Ministry of Magic, you keep making eye contact with Reinhard, who seems to be staring at you.

“Is there something on my face?”, you ask uncertainly and put your glass back on the table when you can no longer bear his piercing gaze.

“No, no, not at all. I was just wondering how a beautiful witch like you could have become so much more stunning”, Reinhard winks at you, causing you to swallow hard. You are not used to getting compliments, especially not from a handsome young man like him. Before you can answer to him, however, there is a loud clink and you startle, your eyes immediately fixed on the cause of the noise.

The glass, which you have certainly placed far away from the edge, is now lying in your lap, the little liquid that was still inside now spread over your elegant evening gown. You move your chair back in shock when, in the corner of your eye, you see how Tom puts away his wand. And not only did you notice Tom just now, but the rest of them follow your gaze.

“Tom, darling, how about you tell our guests how you and our daughter got to know each other”, your mother suddenly prompts him, not even realizing that he has just deliberately spilled your drink on you. But why did he in the first place?

„I would love to“, Tom puts on a really believable smile that no one but you questions and starts telling them how you met and fell in love with each other. He tells one lie after another, explaining the web of lies that you have spun around you over time to make your relationship as credible as possible, at least in front of other people. And suddenly nobody cares about you or your still soaking wet dress anymore.

“What a wonderful story”, Mrs. Lestrange applauds and everyone else seems to be completely enthusiastic about Tom’s fairytale. To top it off, he then reaches across the table to take your hand in his, just like a real affectionate couple would do.

You lower your gaze as he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, trying your best to not show how uncomfortable you are. Oh, how much you wish that this were real, that Tom would actually treat you like this when you are alone, the same way as he does in front of your parents.

But he does not and deep down you know that he will never do.

“So, you are engaged?”, Reinhard scrutinizes the statement of his former best friend, his eyes focused on you suspiciously, as if he is expecting an answer from you and not from Tom. A slight pressure on your hand makes you flinch and look up.

“Y-Yes”, you force a smile onto your lips, whereupon Tom seems satisfied with your answer, letting go of your hand again with a - what seemed to you like a – disgusted expression on his face.

An uncomfortable silence spreads between the three of you, which is drowned out by the loud conversation of the adults on the other side of the table. Finally, making up your mind, you clear your throat loudly and get up from your chair, gaining everyone’s attention in a matter of seconds.

“Excuse me, I have to go freshen up for a moment”, you explain with a slight polite bow before turning away to leave the dining room.

“Reinhard, would you be so kind and help Y/N”, Mr. Lestrange asks his son, who stands up with furrowed brows, apparently just as surprised about this sudden request as you, but then follows you out into the hallway with no further objection.

“I really do not need any help, thank you”, you try to get rid of him as you walk up the large staircase leading to the first floor together, only wanting to be alone.

“Dinner like these are totally boring anyway”, he chuckles softly and shows no intentions of leaving your side any time soon, which is why you do not even try to search for further arguments. He follows you to your room where you are able to tear yourself away from him to put on a new dress while he waits outside in front of the door.

With an equally elegant burgundy red dress you step out of your room after a few minutes, Reinhard’s eyes greeting you with a sparkle.

“Wow”, he breathes out barely audible and takes you hand without asking to swirl you around, causing your dress to fly around gorgeously. Unintentionally, warmth rises in your face again and your hearts makes a barely noticeable jump inside your chest when he looks deep into your eyes after catching you back in his arms.

The loud clearing of a throat behind you makes you turn around in shock, only to see that Tom himself is now standing at the end of the corridor, not seeming very enthusiastic.

“We did not see you there, Tom”, Reinhard disguises his obvious nervousness with a laugh, acting like Tom had just caught you in doing something he should not have seen. Tom, however, does not even react to his words, but looks past Reinhard at you, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

But when you do not move under his piercing gaze, his facial expression changes and he quickly approaches you, Reinhard instinctively pushing you behind him so that you can only see Tom approaching further over his shoulder. Before neither you nor Reinhard can say or do anything, Tom has already pulled out his wand and aims it directly at Reinhard, who flies back through the air only a few seconds later, hitting the hard marble floor at the end of the corridor with a thud.

“What the-?!”

“Come with me”, Tom orders, now standing directly in front of you. When you stubbornly refuse, he suddenly grabs your wrist to pull you away from there. No matter how much you fight against his firm grip, you cannot tear yourself away from him as he pulls you into the closest room, which turns out to be the library.

Once there, you can finally free yourself from his tight grip, but before you can reach for the doorknob to leave immediately, he locks the door with a spell. Angrily, you turn to him, despair written all over your stunning face.

“What is this supposed to be, Tom? Let me out of here, now!”, you command him in a loud voice, not caring if anybody can hear.

“What did he want from you?”, he asks you urgently and steps closer to you. Since the door is in your back, every possible escape route is blocked, and you are caught.

“We just talked to each other, you know. Like normal people do”, you answer irritably and cross your arms in front of your chest, not in the mood to justify yourself, especially not in front of someone who does not care about you at all and not after what he has done.

“But that did not look like it.”

“Tom, stop it.”

“You belong to me and nobody else!”

These words coming out of his mouth echo loudly through the dark library, his face wrapped in an eerie candlelight. Before you can even control yourself and fully process what he said, you severely slap him.

Frightened by your own horrible deed, you immediately pull your hand away, your gaze filled with fear, but the anger that keeps building up inside of you winning the upper hand after all.

“How dare you call me your property?!”, you scream in rage and tears form in your eyes because of your uncontrollable anger. However, Tom needs a moment to collect his thoughts after your heavy smack before he can answer you.

“You are my fiancé”, he spits out coldly, a touch of shock in his voice, apparently not expecting you to react like this.

“And that does not make me nowhere near your property! You never treat me like your fiancé anyway, so why now all of a sudden?!”, you bicker at him, your voice loud and constant, even though you would like to flee from this situation right away if you were able to.

But Tom does not have an answer.

“Fine, okay. If you have nothing to say to me, like you never have, then I will go back now and ask my parents to end this damn failed engagement and engage me with someone else who truly cares for me!”

Suddenly, without letting you time to catch your breath after your outburst, he presses you with your back against the door completely, his hands tightly grabbing your wrists, a little too tight for your personal liking.

“You mustn’t do that”, he softly whispers, his head lowered as if he does not dare to look you in the eyes.

“What is stopping me?”, you hiss, still full of anger and – probably for the very first time – hatred towards him.

But when you feel his lips on yours all of a sudden, all of these emotions evaporate and all that remains is your racing heartbeat, which is being repaired at this very moment. You never would have thought that at some point in your life the moment would come when Tom Marvolo Riddle, who absolutely loathes his fiancé, kisses you.

After kissing you, he looks straight into your eyes, and the Tom you met in 1938 is standing in front of you again. The Tom you fell so deeply in love with.

“I can’t explain it to you”, he finally breaks the silence, his gaze directed to the floor as he moves away from you, giving you enough space to breathe regularly again. You, however, do not say anything but just stare at him.

“I was not aware that I am capable of feeling such feelings for someone. I am unfamiliar with this feeling and I did not know how to deal with it, Y/N. I treated you badly because I did not want it to be true, I did not want to accept it. I could not imagine having feelings for the little nuisance that has always been running after me”, Tom explains, choosing each and every single word very carefully, trying to put his emotions into words which does not really work the way he would like it to. But that is how you know him. You know that this confession must be extremely difficult for him, but you can’t help but feel a sense of relief inside of you.

“When?”, you ask and manage, with this tiny little word, to make him look up at you. “When did you know?”

“Since I have been here. You served me every day and took care of me, even though I wanted to push you away from me with all of my might. You have already helped me so many times in the past without me even asking, you have always accepted me for who I am”, he desperately tries to but his feelings into words, asking himself what he is even doing right now.

“Tom..”

“No, I have to sincerely apologize to you. I had no right to treat you the way I did. And also today.. when I saw you with him and how well you got along, it finally became clear to me. Reinhard has felt something for you since our school days, I know that even though I could never understand, but now I do. I understand why he fell in love with you”, Tom continues without breathing, pouring out all of his feelings that he has hidden for so long.

“I understand if you want to dissolve this engagement and I will not stop you if that is what you want”, he quickly adds, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. He already prepares himself for the worst when you are the one getting closer to him this time.

“Idiot”, you smile slightly and place a gentle kiss on his lips while he looks at you puzzled. “I love you, I thought you knew that.”

“I know, but-“

“But nothing”, you interrupt him and take his hand to lead it to your fast pounding heart. “It always belonged to you.”

[lovesick-panmess]

Protect Them

Soo I know I'm way overdue with the 3rd part of my Armageddon AU but I've actually been replaying the lessons so I get a proper feel for what I'm writing, so to make up for it and to get this idea out of my head I've been thinking about it for days here is a related fic between the oldest brothers

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Levi can count on one hand how many times he's seen Lucifer coming home injured. The Avatar of Pride could easily crush irrelevant demons with his glare and he proved worthy of Diavalo's right-hand man for a reason... But the first time that Levi remembers was on a travel mission with Lord Diavalo within a year after their fall from grace. It was a distant memory, seeing Lucifer stumble up the stairs blooded up and adamantly refusing care from any of them, even Mammon who was following behind his every footstep. He had gotten used to such behavior and just settled for turning up his headphones on his way to the safe haven that was his room, stopping when he noticed the eldest's door cracked open. He watched Mammon gingerly wrap the bandage around his shoulder, blinking back tears in his eyes and shaking his head vehemently as Lucifer spoke. The music was loud and distracting he just settled for reading their lips-

"Mammon I need you to do this for me.."

"I won't! There's no need, ya just paranoid-!"

Watching the tears well up made Levi shift, uncomfortable and jealous, wondering what bond allowed them to be so vulnerable so open. Hadn't they all fought their father together? Rallied behind him so readily behind Lucifer, their Morningstar that only shined a light that only Mammon was allowed to see. He lingered before continuing to walk down the hall, to dwell in his own sunken loneliness but hearing Mammon speak one more time before the door had shut.

"..I'll do it, alright? Just stop ya crying, Luci.."

He had felt the deja vu of that very moment playing out in front of him, though this time he was hiding from Mammon in his secret spot in the living room. They had planned to go to the movies in an hour and Levi knew that Mammon would try to find him to convince him to pay for the tickets yet again so he decided to wait out the time so that scumbag would have to bring his wallet. It was a surprise to see the door open, everyone else is out and Lucifer's return to be scheduled for a few more days, but instead, the eldest had come early with visible wounds and beatings. Levi felt frozen, debating on whether he should slip out to help or stay putt but once again Mammon comes down the stairs like it's his calling. "Lucifer? Let me help you!" Denial was the first given reaction, the eldest's heart too hard and stubborn to ask for help before collapsing into Mammon's arms.

Levi followed with anxiety brewing in his chest, now wanting to just hide away in his room since plans were clearly on hold and he could do nothing to help the pair. Not like they would want his help, a shitty pathetic otaku wasn't much good at bandaging wounds, not like he was able to get much practice like Mammon did. Jealousy seethed, it made his heart race as he hid to the side of the door at the mention of his name.

"We have to tell him, Mams."

"We don't have to tell him shit! It's fine like this...Levi doesn't have to be involved."

It was confusing to be thrown out of the loop, but it hurt to hear Mammon so effortlessly fight to not include him. Maybe the second-born felt that Levi wasn't worth it? Too weak and unable to do..whatever it is they are arguing about, even so, it was odd-looking into Lucifer's room. Mammon unafraid of the eldest's temper and even being so bold as to glare at him while cleaning his cuts, Lucifer had an expression of utter fondness that was intertwined with an unlabeled fear, one that only he seemed to see.

"Mammon, you know it takes a lot out of me to..admit this. I'm almost jealous that you're able to view me so..."

Shit shit shit, he had been so entrapped in their conversation and his own envy he hadn't realized that it was emitting throughout the hall. He stiffens when Lucifer calls his name, slipping out from where he was hiding and now embarrassed. "Levi..come here please." He notes that Mammon refuses to look at him, biting his bottom lip hard as he sits next to his brother, so not used to this soft tone from him. He really must have stepped into a completely different world, one where Lucifer is willing to fight tooth and nail with his own pride in order to tell them the truth. And what a horrid truth it must be.

"Lucifer what's going on? Why is Mammon..." He trails off, feeling Lucifer's hand skim through his hair, and despite his own embarrassment leaned into the comforting touch and suddenly the bottle of Demonus was looking very tempting. "Levi...I would like to involve you in something very important, in order to protect the others." Lucifer's words were slow, each one taking some kind of will to overcome his pride, his wings twitching in what Levi could easily place as anxiety and one he knew way too well. "I'm not allowed to say anything about the threat outside of the Devildom but it puts us at risk and I...There may be a chance I won't come back."

His stomach drops, he doesn't realize that he's shaking until he feels Mammon's arms wrapping around his shoulder, shaking his head in pure denial. Not Lucifer, the most powerful one of them all, their eldest brother not coming back. Such thoughts were unfathomable to even believe, much less considered as a probability to the point that they had to talk about it. Acknowledge it and take action, Lucifer keeps talking and Mammon presses Levi closer to his chest, "I talked this with Mammon since the beginning but now we believe it's time to tell you in case something were ever to happen to the both of us and you would decide when to tell Satan..."

The prospect of such responsibility makes Levi feel like a fish out of water as he gulps for air yet in that same breath go on a rampage of self-deprecation and drowning doubt. How he's not ready, he's a good-for-nothing shitty pathetic otaku, he can't protect his brothers, he's weak, he's nothing, if Lucifer and Mammon are gone then there would be no fucking hope for them. The two oldest look at each other, small bits of regret building up from the pressure and burden they had put on him, Mammon gently rubbing his back and Lucifer cupping his face. "Leviathan please breathe."

His body does it automatically before he can think about it, the air in his lungs felt like boiling water as the panic slowly dissipates in his chest. All that was left was his own soft mutterings, so sure that Lucifer was probably disappointed that he has to trust in Levi of all people to protect them, he leans against Mammon who nudges him affectionately before resting his head on his shoulder. "I...I haven't really done anything good since...I was General...how can you be so sure in me?" He asks but squirms unready for whatever the answer might be, though he's unable to mistake Lucifer's radiating pride that he feels.

"Who's the one who came up with the plan on where to steal the weapons in the Celestial Realm?"

"M-Me but I-"

"And who helped convince the others to lay low while we defended the base?"

"I did but Luci-"

"Who's the one who took an arrow for Mammon while he was trying to protect me?"

"Lucifer-!"

He gets cut off with a flick on his forehead, his lips set in a pout but meeting the Morningstar's expression that made butterflies bloom in his stomach from overwhelming pride had him turn away and looking down at the floor. "Levi, get out of your head for one second and look at how smart and tactical you are. When it matters...when there is no time to panic. You're the third strongest family for a fucking reason, you should start believing it." The unusual confidence makes him flush but it's really Lucifer's words that bring the tears, no longer from fear but slowly coming to the realization that Lucifer and Mammon too had faith in him...they always did.

"Do ya still wanna join the pact? If ya wanna think about it, ya still can Levi." He blinks at the fact that Mammon had really been silent this whole time and just hugging him, the second born now getting up to tighten the remaining bandages. "Did you think about it, Mammon?" Levi knew the answer in his gut, only the blind would question the unwavering devotion that Mammon and Lucifer had for each other, only further cemented as the Avatar of greed simply shakes his head. He feels a small smile form on his face, "Then I don't need to think about it...I want to do this."

By the next few hours, any of the remaining tension and somber feelings had slipped away, replaced by a calm atmosphere that usually would not last long in the House of Lamentation. The melody of the cursed record floated and hung in the air as Levi rested on the floor in his demon form, the pact officially made and learning about the secret doorway by Lucifer's bookcase, definitely locking that information into memory. He sees Mammon grinning above him, curiosity embedded in his features, "So where'd ya decide to put the pact mark?" Levi lifts his sweater, the symbol of the three still glow fresh on the side by his ribs, and Mammon hissing with empathy.

He wanted it to hurt weirdly enough, to serve as a forever reminder that this pain was temporary but the pain of losing his brothers would surely last till the end of time. Mammon shows the mark on his hand, Lucifer clicks his tongue in disapproval as someone might ask about the pact but the second brother waves his concern away. He enjoys looking at the pact, the constant reassurance that they would be okay when the word goes to absolute shit, and Lucifer couldn't find any argument against that. They both look at the eldest who crosses his arms with a sharp, "No-" before puppy eyes come into play and Lucifer's pride can not save him from that.

What they both don't expect is for Lucifer to turn around and spread his wings out as if to show off, but then they see it. The markings trailing up his spine and next to the scars of where his two wings used to be, Levi is the first to reach up and touch it, internally blaming the remnants of Lucifer's pride that is making him so bold. He sees his hand tremble but luckily he is able to hold his voice steady, "Just because we made this pact..doesn't mean you both get to just fuck up. Y-You both should always come home." Lucifer nods, Mammon kisses his cheek and Levi struggles to hide his tears.

When Levithan leaves the room while closing the door behind him, reality, as he knew it just a few hours ago, wasn't all that different and he can hear Asmo drunkenly cheering as Satan carries him through the door. "Hey, Levi! Don't hide in your room- you better come join us." He doesn't give his thoughts a chance, heading down the stairs with a small smile. The world hadn't changed, but Levi would be forever.

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AHHH THIS HAS BEEN SITTING THE DRAFTS FOREVER I'M SO GLAD I FINISHED IT. Please please let me know if I should make an explanation post of how the pacts would work (it will most likely be headcanons cause I don't know how they work in canon 😪😪)

either way, I really hope you enjoyed the fic as I did writing it! I'm still working on the next part for the Armageddon AU so bear with me 😭

[misschifuyu]

To choose a lover

requested here

characters: ran haitani + rindou haitani

genre: fluff

warnings: none

Giggles and whispering comments were passed around, giddiness present in the voices that spoke out just a few metres away from you.

As much as you tried to focus on the tiresome work that was splayed out on the piece of paper before you, it was completely futile to drown the girls out.

It didn't take a genius to know what they were talking about. The school you were all under had the privilege - if one could even consider it as such - to hold two infamous students.

The Haitani brothers.

Whilst the eldest was in his final year, the younger still had another year under this roof until he followed in his brother's footsteps.

But there was really nothing to dislike about going to class when one had a literal fan group who's main topic was always them.

There were girls who preferred Ran, with his signature braids that they always wished they could undo for him; and others that would always fawn over Rindou's cocky ways and stubbornness, trying to catch his attention wherever he went.

The current conversation, however, wasn't just fixed on talking about their aspects.

Far from it. Sending each other questionable looks and making fun of those on the other side of the opinion, they were discussing who, out of the two brothers, was better.

Those on Ran's side had the advantage of saying that he was older, therefore more responsible and willing to take care of anyone.

Sure.

He would make the perfect husband, some were proclaiming. But...the youngest would always want to show that he is the strongest, the more dependable one, as a result of the inferiority that had always hung with him since they were young.

It wasn't that he was, he just hadn't pushed himself to be known as much as his brother had done all those years back.

Needless to say, it was an argument that would never see an end. At least not until the two left the school behind and continued up to wherever the future would take them.

It was amusing, from your point of view, to hear all of these discussions. For years now you had known the two, as close friends who had grown up on the same street, so you knew everything that there was to them, right down to what they actually did when they said they were studying.

Definitely something that the girls would be pushed back by if they ever found out.

But, if it really came down to it, you probably wouldn't be able to pick one out of the pack that they came in, either.

They both had their merits and faults, and, truth be told, neither of the two were that much of a pleasure to be around with, as much as their fans would beg to differ.

One thing was for sure, though. It had come into the light when the three of you had been hanging out one afternoon, without much else to do.

You had asked the youngest about what he thought about his notorious lower level when it came to comparing him with his brother.

It had simply been a spur of the moment, and you hadn't expected him to actually give a sorrowful response.

He was well aware that he was viewed as the weaker brother of the two, and as much as he'd try to prove otherwise, it had always been something that would eat away at him.

Naturally, both you and Ran had jumped to convince him that he was far from a weak person.

The fact that he was viewed as such meant nothing at all when it came down to the reality of what he was, and that there was no point in even listening to those ignorant - and frankly, irrelevant - opinions about himself.

At the end of the day, although you would never openly admit it near the oblivious fangirls, you held a considerable amount of affection towards the two of them.

Of course, they had their odd moments in which you only wished to hit them around the head with Ran's metal bar; but, all in all, they would always be your childhood friends.

So choosing between them was simply out of the question.

Both of them held an equal importance to you, so when a peculiar feeling started growing for one of them, you quickly averted it so it would be felt for the two, whatever it were to be.

They were two peas in a pod, and you weren't about to change this because of a measly crush.

However, the thought would only bug you more whenever you were all together. Such as the current situation, sat right between the two of them on the comfort of their couch.

Before even coming over, you had mentally ordered yourself to disregard the ridiculous thoughts that had flooded your mind.

The girls back at school hadn't help with the problem one bit, if anything they worsened the conflictive feelings; and now you were to spend the afternoon with the two.

One could only think that all odds were against them in such situations.

Head resting on Ran's shoulder, legs atop Rindou's, your eyes were fixed onto the screen before you. The reasoning behind spending the afternoon together was the airing of your favourite show.

However, you were now racking your brains over what you were supposed to do after the series ended. Watching a movie was the prime option, but you figured they would want to move from the couch and do something else.

And the two were very talkative, so you would have to, inevitably, push everything in your mind aside to prevent from even giving the smallest hint surrounding your thoughts.

Your stiffness didn't go unnoticed, and, soon enough, you felt a hand on your leg, startling you in an instant.

"What the hell is up with you today, Y/N?"

Rindou had lost all attention for what was playing on the screen, and it looked to be as though he had for a bit now. This meant he had felt your change of attitude well before he had actually asked about it.

"What? No, nothing...why?"

Knitting his eyebrows together, the blond looked over at you with a disbelieving stare. By now, you were sure Ran had shifted his interest towards the two of you.

"You've been all skittish since you got here. You got something important on your mind or what?"

Geez.

"No...I've just been thinking about something stupid, that's all. Don't worry about it, now let me watch th-"

"That being?"

Now you were cornered. From behind you, having turned to look at Rindou, a voice spoke out the question. In slight panic, you managed to come up with another way around it.

"Well...that, let's say, if I had to choose one out of the two of you, I wouldn't know who I'd pick. It's a silly question one of my friends asked today, that's all"

God bless the fan girls. You were sure to never judge them internally again, because they might have just saved your skin in the nick of time.

Your nerves calmed down as you heard Rindou chuckle at the concern, and you figured he'd just brush it off as another one of your peculiar inquiries.

However, as he fully turned towards you, it was clear that he wasn't about to let this go unfazed.

"Well, you can't just leave us like that without an answer. Go on then, if it was a life or death situation, who would it be?"

"Rindou...you know I'd get rid of both of you if I could"

You all laughed at your words, stirring the conversation into an area that you were certain you could get a hold of.

Each one of you was just as ridiculous as the next one, so it wasn't hard to divert difficult topics.

If only the youngest wasn't so damn pushy.

"On a real note, there's gotta be one of us that you like just a little more, Y/N"

Upon knowing that perhaps you had driven yourself into a dead end, you started to fumble with your fingers.

What the hell were you supposed to say? If you picked one, the other was surely to get the wrong idea.

"Um..."

A slight shift behind you made you turn your head, catching Ran just a little too close for comfort to your face. Great, just what you needed.

After a few, nerve racking, seconds in silence, it was the eldest of the two that decided to break the ice. You were all just wasting time there, after all.

"Listen...since my brother seems incapable of forming a decent sentence, what we've been trying to get at is which one you'd choose, because we've both liked you for some time now and we kinda need to know who you'd go out with"

Well.

Certainly an unexpected turn to your seemingly uneventful afternoon. It appeared that you weren't the only one struggling with the damned feeling that was a crush, but you hadn't gambled that it would be both of them...and for the same person.

You couldn't choose.

In the same way that you had to waver the feeling of more than just friendship between the two of them, there was no way you could pick one now.

It would be unfair for the other, especially since you would only be lying to yourself for saying that you felt nothing for the half that was left aside.

There was only one way out of this, unless you wanted to shatter the relationship you had built between them for the past years.

"I...both of you. I can't leave one of you out when I, well, like both of you"

A huge weight was lifted from your body the moment the brothers exchanged a look, followed by an agreeing nod. Far from the catastrophe you had gambled with, that much was sure.

As Ran leaned his head on your shoulder, Rindou gave you a bright smile, one that not everyone had the chance to say that they've seen.

"Wasn't so hard to say, now was it?"

No. What was going to be hard was having not one Haitani by your side, but two, as a partner. Sure enough, you were really going to know what their poor mother had to put up with now.

[ttuesday]

Hellooooo, I absolutely adore your blog. I literally check your blog everyday for new stuff, your writing soothes my restless soul.

If you'd want to and have the time, could we get some jealous (and maybe a lil bit possessive) boys (preferrably like dutch, arthur or hosea) when reader has to turn up her charms for a job? xx If it's not your cup of tea I understand <3

Keep being you and have a great day!

ANON I LOVE THAT IDEA

The Mayor of Saint Denis was throwing a party and Angelo Bronte had invited Dutch to go. It was Hosea’s idea for you to come too, knowing that your charm and friendly demeanour would help you get useful information from the other guests. And so you, your sweetheart and some of the other fellers bought some fancy clothes and headed off to the party.

Arthur

Arthur knows the only reason you’re here and being polite is for the sake of the gang. You don’t actually want to be hanging around with all these high society folk, or at least he hopes you don’t.

Whenever Arthur sees you laugh at a joke or smile at another man, he can feel a small knot of jealous grow in his gut. He rolls his eyes and mumbles a few snarky comments. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t help himself.

 As ye leave the party, Arthur asks “Y’sure you don’t wanna stay, looks like you’re really enjoying yourself”. That night when you’re both back at camp and inside your tent, Arthur makes sure to please you.

 When you think back to this night, Arthur wants you to think of the two of ye in your tent, not the party. Afterwards while you’re both cuddling, he opens up about how he was feeling at the party and apologises for being rude.

Charles

Charles is a very relaxed guy. He understands that this is all part of the job. It's not like you wanted to charm all these people, it's something you were doing for the plan.

That doesn't mean he has to like it though. A part of him feels silly for getting jealous but seeing you smile and make each of the guests feel special gets under his skin. 

He stays close to you throughout the night in case you need some back-up. Charles wants to make sure he can be there for you within a second. Half of the time he's there, Charles is hoping neither of ye have to go to another one of these parties ever again.

When ye get back to camp, Charles gives you a big hug. Honestly, he was waiting to punch each and every person you talked to but he's glad he stayed calm and didn't act impulsively.

Dutch

Dutch is convinced he's stuck in a nightmare. What was he thinking making you go off and charm all these irrelevant people?! Looking back on it, he thinks it was a stupid plan but he won't admit that.

A mixture of annoyance and jealous builds in his stomach. He keeps a watchful eye on you as he goes around the party, making sure to know where you are at all times.

Eventually Dutch can't take it anymore and he wraps his arm around your waist. He stays with you for the rest of the party, making sure to give you kisses throughout the night so everyone knows you're with him.

When you enter his tent after the long night, Dutch's hands are immediately on your body. Dutch needs to touch every inch of you so be prepared for a longgg night.

John

John really didn't think he was the jealous type. He knew what your job was at the party but there was a massive difference in hearing that you're going to be charming people versus actually seeing you charm people.

John subtly follows you around the party and whenever an other guest flirts with you, John butts in and tells the guest they have something stuck in their teeth. As they quickly go to find a mirror, John mutters an insult about them before distancing himself for you again.

It's very obvious that John is jealous and on the ride back to camp, Arthur and Dutch make sure to tease him about it. He just huffs and rolls his eyes in response.

As ye settle down for the night, John says he's sorry for how he acted and that he knows he was being stupid. He needs a lot of cuddles and reassurance.

Micah

What kinda bullshit is this? There you are, all dressed up and looking like you should be one of those fancy cigarette cards but you have to talk to other people?

Micah's in a rage. He can't stand seeing you smile and laugh with these snobby jerks. Micah spends the majority of his time sulking around the party and pouting.

They're lucky security took everyone's weapons at the front door, otherwise Micah wouldn't shot every single person who spoke to you... yeah, he's quite possessive.

As the fireworks begin, Micah comes up next to you and tells you that Dutch need ye to go into the mansion to look for something. He leads you through the house until he stops in a quiet corridor. Yeah, Dutch didn't actually ask Micah to go look for anything, Micah just wants to fuck.

Hosea

Hosea’s done plenty of cons in the past. He knows how it goes and he knows that charming is the most efficient way to get information. Hosea's aware that this is a part of the job.

He trusts you too but Hosea's issue is with everyone else at the party. He doesn't trust them in the slightest. At first, Hosea tries to distract himself by talking to other guests and trying to get information on any upcoming stagecoaches or trains but he can't stop thinking about you.

Finally, Hosea thinks that Dutch's plan isn't worth it and decides to join you instead. He links arms with you and joins you in charming people. It's a lot easier that way cause you can both work together.

Deep down Hosea knows he joined you because he was feeling insecure and jealous but luckily it worked out well and he didn't even have to threaten anyone!

Javier

Javier doesn’t get jealous easily. At first he actually thought it was amusing that you had to charm the high class people of Saint Denis. He hoped that after you spent a few minutes charming people, that ye could spend the rest of the night together.

Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple and it was like more and more people wanted to talk to you. That was when Javier stopped seeing the amusing side of it and began to get more and more annoyed as the night dragged on.

Finally Javier snaps at someone after they interrupt him when he tried to talk to you. And now when people try to flirt with you, Javier pulls you in for a deep kiss so they get the hint and fuck off.

Javier tells Dutch that ye won’t be going back to camp and instead he pays for a hotel room for the night *wink wink*. Right now, Javier needs you and he wants to remind you of how great he can make you feel.

Bill

Bill is jealous within the first five minutes. You go up to the first guest and introduce yourself and Bill is already grumpy. He wandered over to Dutch a few times, asking if you need to be charming everyone and if he could alter the plan a little.

The last thing Bill wants to do is put the plan in jeopardy so instead of completely disrupting you, he hovers around where you are and tries to subtly listen to your conversation... or well, as subtly as Bill can be.

Slowly he edges his way into the conversation. The guests you're trying to charm, look over that the man who's awkwardly joined the conversation and who has a big cheesy smile on his face.

 Yeah your charm doesn't work great with Bill there too but it's sweet that he wants to stay close.

Sean

Sean acts cool. Yeah you go do your thing, Sean will gladly cheer you on. He was excited to wear a fancy suit and go to some high class party. Sean was convinced it'd be fun...

But then he actually sees you talking to a lot of other people and Sean starts to feel left out.

He tries to distract him by throwing the finger food into the fountain, stealing people's top hats, stacking the wine glasses on top of each other but Sean still looks over at you every few minutes.

When he was passing by you, Sean was convinced he heard someone flirting with you. Sean instantly jumps into action, trying to be intimidating and blurting out a couple of threats. Afterwards you lead Sean away and explain that the man was talking to his wife, not you.

[bigskydreaming]

I’m a big believer that Dick’s independence and self-reliance isn’t in any way rooted in him just being stubborn, prideful or self-destructive. I view it as being in his eyes a necessity….because on a deep, fundamental level….Dick doesn’t trust anything to be permanent. 

I’ll always go back to the fact that his character archetype isn’t that of the everyman, because he was of lower class origins compared to Bruce’s extreme upper class background.....but rather that given that Dick Grayson was allegedly exceptional from his debut, a child prodigy capable of feats of acrobatics few in the world could match....he could never actually be classified as an everyman. Rather, his core archetype is that of the fish out of water. The individual taken from the comforts of his original pond and thrust into a limelight of an entirely different nature from the one he grew up in, with the two not at all being interchangeable, and necessitating he change and adapt in dramatic and often unanticipated ways just to keep his footing in his new environs.

Its not incidental that his initial tragedy wasn’t JUST the loss of his parents, but rather the loss of his old routines, extended family, environment, way of life, expectations for the way his future would play out....it ALL vanished on the same night, never to return again. The loss of his parents was tragedy enough all on its own, but its really only one part of what Dick lost that night. He lost his entire footing. His frames of reference. Everything his life had previously prepared him for and everything he could have used as a familiar comfort or source of stability to lean on, if it had been ‘just’ his parents that he lost.

And I fundamentally don’t believe you ever get over THAT loss, no matter what peace you make with the loss of your loved ones or specific elements of that. Once you’ve experienced a shake-up of that size, once you have a bone-deep, visceral awareness of how completely your life can change in the blink of an eye, how you can effectively be set back to zero as though nothing you’ve previously accomplished matters (remember, he went from a kid whose name drew crowds on its OWN merits, based on what HE was capable of due to his own work and skills, the youngest of the Flying Graysons, capable of an acrobatic feat barely anyone else in the world could master......to being a kid who was only ever identified as in the context of Bruce Wayne having taken him in, as though his existence and worth were defined by someone else’s act of compassion rather than based on anything he’d ever done on his own, when the fact of the matter is even by age eight, he’d already accomplished a LOT)....

Like, the point is, you can’t go through a shake-up like that and ever fully FORGET how complete and total a change it was, how big a rewrite of your entire life story. 

That’s a trauma all its own, one that goes largely unacknowledged, and one that I don’t think Bruce and Alfred or anyone else fully realized was even there TO need addressing in the first place. So of course how could they ever fully address it, without realizing a need?

And I think Dick’s constant moves and self-reliance are actually born of that primal awareness that there are no guarantees, that nothing is truly permanent, that anything can be taken away in an instant.

He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to be taken away again - as people have pointed out in other posts, Dick can never seem to have nice things. Even the apartment building he lived in while in Bludhaven….that wasn’t some height of luxury by ANY stretch of the imagination…was lost to him, along with all the friends and neighbors and community he’d built among them, something evidenced by how highly they all spoke of him, even to a total stranger. And that’s not even getting into how even the CITY he sought to establish himself as a guardian over, like, he lost the city itself. The CITY!

Dick, I believe, insists on holding down 9-5 jobs and paying his own way and only touching money that comes from Bruce originally, when like…he has no other option or its to help someone else….just like he’s resistant to ever fully putting down roots, at least none so deep that he can’t uproot himself and quickly relocate without ripping off a piece of himself and leaving it still buried in the ground behind him. 

Because deep down, he’s always bracing for the next seismic event that’ll rip everything away from him, and he wants to be prepared. He WANTS to make sure he never takes anything for granted. That if he loses it all - hell, if he and Bruce fight again and Bruce decides once and for all to take it all away from Dick, cut their ties, something that would very much be a deep-rooted insecurity for a kid with as massive of abandonment issues as Dick must have given his childhood and a number of events after that…

Dick I think needs to trust that he’ll be capable of surviving, of standing on his own two feet, if the worst should ever happen again and he’s left on his own again. His self-reliance and obsessive need for independence aren’t a REJECTION of anyone else or anything Bruce or others have ever done for him.

They’re simply the defense mechanisms of a boy who was once upon a time torn away from everything he knew and in certain origins was then on top of that plunged into hellish circumstances before finding a refuge with Bruce….

And the man that boy grew up to be, who is determined to never be caught in a situation like that again, where his very survival might otherwise require the kindness of a stranger….with Dick knowing better than to count on lightning striking twice there, and him getting lucky a second time.

So in a lot of ways, my core perception of Dick having spent more time growing up in the luxury of Wayne Manor than any of the other kids is that its largely irrelevant to who he grew up to be. Because he was still more than old enough by the time he arrived that he had formative experiences all his own that no amount of time was sufficient to overwrite and exchange for new ones.

His experiences are so extreme in terms of the loss of all forms of stability, that the SHAPE that stability takes in the periods where his life IS stable, is largely unimportant. Because its the absence of stability that’s the defining recurrence in his life. Even the stability offered by his childhood in Wayne Manor eventually gave way to canon where he left the Manor before he was even eighteen, as well as canon where no matter how it was ultimately reversed, he was for a time affected by having the ability to call the Manor his home STRIPPED AWAY FROM HIM. Thus even when Bruce did ultimately welcome him back, there still retained an awareness that even the fact that this had happened in the first place was a reminder that even THIS was something Dick could lose, that no matter how stable his childhood there had been at times, it couldn’t in and of itself be COUNTED as a source of stability due to the simple fact that his ability to call it his home HADN’T turned out to be an irrevocable constant. 

And so this is another of those areas where I think its fundamentally an oversight to have members of the family commenting on Dick’s self-reliance or tendencies to relocate himself, let alone in any kind of critical capacity......

If there’s not going to be an acknowledgment within the family or by the people raising these criticisms like, what kind of a role the family themselves have played in Dick feeling a NEED to have these tendencies in the first place.

If someone doesn’t trust in any place he lives in to ever truly be a constant in his life, truly permanent, that anything can be taken away in the right circumstances....and you yourself have done something that has made him feel or given him reason TO leave a place he’s found stability in at some point in the past....you kiiiiiinda forsake your right to be critical of his inability to see any place as permanent or constant, y’know?

Like, insert Miranda Whatshername gif or Meryl Streep peering down her glasses and going oh I see, you think this has nothing to do with you.

So I’d argue that Dick’s insistence on simulating the average person’s reality of livelihood, even when he has other means and funds available to him….just as his insistence on being as solely responsible for the well-being of the place or people he sees as his responsibilities, being single-minded about relying only on himself for tasks that he sees as ultimately having nothing to do with someone other than himself, etc....

All that is in my opinion BECAUSE he’s so firmly attached to the reality that anything and everything can be taken away, at ANY given moment. That he can be reduced to having nothing and no one he can depend on BEYOND just his own innate skills and experiences, the only things he trusts to be truly unable to be stripped from him by others.

If you ask me, one of the core aspects of Dick’s characterization throughout his adulthood in canon is SPECIFICALLY his fear that everything he cares about, or trusts, or relies on…can be taken away from him or lost. 

And his determination to make sure that he’ll be able to survive even if that should ever happen again.

[stellocchia]

So, I once made a post about c!Tommy and c!Dream’s relationship throughout season 1 (which you can find here), but today I was thinking, why not do the same for the Exile Arc?

There are some people that still don’t seem to have a comprehensive idea of what actually went down during that time (either because they joined the fandom afterwards or haven’t watched it at the time) so I’ll try to do that here. I’ll cover the first 2 streams here, and then continue in the next part because this is gonna be way too damn long otherwise...

As always I’ll be talking only about the characters and the roleplay from here on out and also I’ll be touching on some very heavy topics under the cut (such as gaslighting and abuse). Also this is gonna be another one of my Overly Long Analysis, so... you know... be warned of that.

I’ll be going through this vod by vod, so It will be so long... God why do I always do this to myself?

Let’s start with TommyInnit Is Exiled From The Dream SMP... which is the vod when Tommy actually get’s exiled.

So, the exile scene per se has been covered a 100 times over, but, right after Tubbo asking Dream to “please detain and excort Tommy out of my country” Dream yeets Tommy off the walls and then he immediately establishes the general idea of how it’ll be in exile: “I don’t think you wanna die Tommy. You need to- to listen to me”.

Also it is to be noted that in this “exile” time and time again Dream establishes arbitrary rules that were most certanly not meant in the initial sentence (which is why it’s much more of a kidnapping then an actual exile). Starting from before they even leave L’Manburg completely. In fact when they are still in the vc with the others and still just down from the obsidian walls, Tommy and Dream have this exchange:

“Do I have any time to speak words? What can...” “NO. NO. NO. NO!” “what the...” 

And then right after (just after leaving the vc):

“Do you have food?” “Yeah...” “Good, we’ll be going a long while still” “Am I not allowed- well surely- surely I’m only exiled from L’Manburg-” “Oh, no no no. You’re exiled from everywhere that’s been touched”

The sentence was only for him to be exiled from L’Manburg. Dream theoretically only had authority over the Greater Dream smp in any case, so how come immediately Tommy’s “sentence” becomes being exiled from “everywhere that has been touched”? What authority did Dream have to exile him from the Badlands? Or the Holy Grounds (considering those are widely considered neutral)?

This is from right after Ghostbur joins them:

“Well, I don’t- I don’t have to come with you” “Well, I mean, I’ll kill you” (...) "I don’t have to follow you! I don’t-” “Tommy! Then I’ll just kill you. What happens if I kill you?” “I die...”

Again, technically Tubbo only asked Dream to escort Tommy out of his country, not all the way to his place of exile. Tommy here is right, he is exiled, he is not supposed to have a jailor going with him, he is not supposed to be imprisoned. All he supposedly had to do was get off the lands he wasn’t allowed into and then he’d be good. Of course Dream’s plans were different there.

Also the trend of constantly undermining anything Tommy is feeling at any given moment sure doesn’t stop with the Exile Arc! 

“No, no! I don’t want to head anywhere! I wanna to go back! I wanna go back!” “Fine fine, we’ll head this way then. It’s fine, this is fine” “I don’t wanna go!” “Tommy come on...”

Honorable mention to Dream talking about the first time he exiled Tommy:

“Do you remember- this is actually funny! Do you remember the first time you ever joined the server? And uhm... you got exiled? By me?” “Yeah?” “It’s kinda like that, except now if you don’t listen you die”

And the conditioning begins all the way here, with Dream trying to decide Tommy’s emotions for him:

“Oh... I hate you” “*laughs* Okay Tommy, you don’t hate me” “No, no I definitely do” “Noooo, you don’t hate me”

Cue Dream just blowing up Tommy’s second Summer Home after he explained that it was supposed to be a safe haven for him and Tubbo. Also note that Dream is already getting rid of any mob attacking Tommy even if at this point he still had armour and weapons to defend himself. I talked about this before, but Dream does seem to want Tommy to be as dependent on him as he is on Tommy, which is why during exile he made him dependent on him for protection/safety and company and in prison for food. Also Ghostbur going: “I don’t think this man is very nice...”, thank you Ghostbur, I wish you could remember that, but you’re trying your best and I appreciate it...

“How long is- how long am I exiled for? When can I just go back?” “You can’t (...) if you go back you die”

Again, not Dream’s decision to make. Tubbo was the one exiling Tommy meaning that, if Tubbo actually had the decision power in that istance, Tubbo was the one who should have decided when he could come back. Also, again reiterating the point from before:

“I thought I was only banished from L’Manburg, that was the deal, not the entirety of the smp-” “Oh no. No you’re banished far enough where they don’t see you”

Also, a little look into Tommy’s mentality here:

“Tubbo said he wasn’t thinking with emotion, but with reason, but: what the fuck is the point if there isn’t any- any emotion?!”

This is honestly why he is Dream’s exact opposite and probably why he finds him fun, while Tubbo is irrelevant to him. Tommy thinks emotions should always be taken into account when making decisions and he values sentimentality over everything. Dream is the opposite, to him emotions are irrelevant and sentimentality is a weakness. Tubbo is a bit of both, which makes his clash of ideologies with Dream a lot less evident. 

Anyway, they get to the island and Dream builds Tommy a dirt shack for him to set his spawn into. And then there is the first istance of Dream taking all of Tommy’s stuff (building blocks and food included) and blowing it up. Which, again, is in no way an actual exile condition. Tommy is in jail basically. He got kidnapped and now he is in jail. Also right after that Dream gives them food and obsidian (of course acting like he is doing them a big favour, when he actually just created that need), which Tommy bromptly refuses, later burning the obsidian.

Also Dream’s parting words here are: “I’ll see you never”. Which couldn’t be less true! There is quite a bit more after that, of Tommy and Ghostbur settling in, finding a ruined portal with some armour and the village nearby and Techno visiting, but this is about c!Dream and c!Tommy and it’s already incredibly long as is, so maybe I’ll talk about everything else another time...

Onto the next one: Tommy Is Alone in Exile with Dream...

This stream starts off with Bad visiting Tommy to give him a few presents (which consist of Chirp, 2 diamonds, an enderchest, and almost dead diamond pick with silk touch, some coocked chicken some bones and a few stacks of oak wood logs). Also Tommy sees Logsteshire for the first time. Then Dream arrives and he is not happy about the present (something something, having other people giving Tommy useful stuff would make him less reliant on Dream). Also Bad seems to be slightly scared of Dream since he immediately tells Tommy that he should not say that any of the stuff he gave him was from him. Anyway, Dream destroys everything, but Tommy, with Bad’s help, manages to save Chirp. Here’s their exchange in this scene of course:

“Tommy?” “Yes! Yes?!” “Do you have uh... something you wanna put on the floor here?” “Yes *throws in 3 red concrete blocks*” “Anything else Tommy?” “No! You’re evil by the way, you’re an evil man-” “Come on... I know there is something else you wanna drop down here...” “No there-... *gives disk to Bad* I don’t reckon there is!” “Okay are you sure...?” “Yes!” “Alright... how about uh- how about your armour Tommy?” “No this is- I actually earned this myself” “I know you did! Just drop it in the hole Tommy” “No, no! You can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit! What- what do you mean-” “Tommy~” “What?” *Dream hits Tommy with an enchanted netherite axe* “Drop them down~” “Hooooo okay okay okay!”

So, in case anyone was wondering, physical abuse is there as well. And this is fully depicted as physical abuse. Like, normally, with this being Minecraft, it is implied that violence is generally inconsequential, here though c!Tommy reacts to it clearly in pain and shock. There is no doubt there. 

Sapnap arrives at this point as well. After that Dream makes it a point that Tommy cannot have the enderchast that Bad gave him because you can never have enough random arbitrary rules when kidnapping someone apparently! 

“Why are you here? Why are you here? What- what could you- what could you possibly want more from me? You’ve tortured me-” “I’m just! I’m just... keeping an eye on you Tommy” 

I’ve highlighted this because, considering the last time Dream was there he said he would never see Tommy again, Tommy’s confusion here is more then understandable. But of course Dream acts like it’s obvious that he would be there and that it’s necessary to make sure that Tommy is not “up to no good”. Also, another extremely important exchange: 

“You’ve exiled me you stupid manipulative green bastard!” “Yeah I know! I know! And you know why I did that” “Yes? Yes?” “No, you know why” “Why?” “Because you don’t listen to me ever. You’re the only person who doesn’t ever listen to me (...) listen, you are like a little annoying bug in my room and it pisses me off so I take you and I put you outside and that’s what I did. And now I’m just making sure that you stay outside”

So... the bullshit about this being about George’s house is out of the window by the first proper exile stream. Also Dream goes in the ever increasing list of villains who, if annoyed enough, will reveal all their evil plans to the protagonist. Like Tommy screaches enough and Dream will immediately go in evil monologuing mode...

“So what do you actually want from me then?” “Well nothing, I’m just here to talk to you. Tommy, we’re still friends ok? Just because I exiled you doesn’t mean we’re not friends-” “Just because I killed your friends and family doesn’t mean we can’t be bros...” “Well, it’s true!”

Ok so, it’s confirmed that Dream would still go on with this “friendship” facade even if he killed Tubbo or Wilbur then. Also:

*Tommy sees a creeper* then in the most monotone tone ever: “Help me” Dream sprinting from the other side of the cave: “TOMMY!”. I love this scene and I love this two dumbasses (and I mean the cc’s here). Also, to go back to the serious stuff: once again Dream is the one killing every single mob around Tommy because he blew up all his means for defence. Also Bad and Sapnap are still there as well, but Dream is always the on interveening (mostly because he is the one following Tommy around more closely). I’ll have a few of the more interesting quotes here afterwards until the next interesting scene:

“If I had 8 legs I would fuck you all up” “Oooh, no you wouldn’t” (Dream de-valuing Tommy’s anger once again)

“Stop following me” “NO” “Well okay then...” (honestly this was just funny...)

“Can I call you Wilbur? Or is it Ghostbur...?” “You can call me whatever you like” (for those saying that Ghostbur not correcting Tommy was weird)

“Alright Wilbur, what do you need an enderchest for? I might make an exception but-” “We- we need it so that we can access our stuff from the old world, the old world” “But not to go back” “How would we be able to go back with an enderchest?” “Well I don’t know maybe there is stuff in there that’s... better” “Tommy do you have anything that could get you to go back? In the enderchest?” “A boat? What’d you mean?” “Yeah to be honest we just need wood to get back, it’s not really-” 

Here we have Ghostbur poking holes in one of the new rules that Dream added that day. As a matter of fact, why would an enderchest be dangerous? Tommy mostly keeps sentimental stuff in there and a bit of iron. Still that’s the whole point: Dream is trying to get Tommy under his control so he needs to bring him to a point where he’ll listen to his orders even when they don’t make any actual sense. Also, btw, Dream doesn’t actually give them an enderchest after this exchange.

“Do you want to come with me Tommy? Do you want to come with me and visit the old library?” “No no no” “Yes! Yes please!” “No he wants to stay here with me” “I don’t. I definitely don’t” “He does! He’s just trying to be nice to you Wilbur. He’s trying to be nice to you” “I’m not Wilbur, I want to come with you” (way to gaslight an amnesiac ghost...)

“So how long is Tommy supposed to be here?” “Like a week?” “Oh, a week is not bad!” “*laughing* No he’s here forever” (Like goddamn, imagine if every minor griefing was punished with permanent exile!)

“M-maybe like- does Tommy gets like visitations? Like once every month he get’s to go to L’Manburg-” “No! No no no” “No visitation, huh?” “No visitation” (well, let’s thank Sapnap for trying...)

So, after this Tommy gets his plan to go through the Nether and find a quick way to and from L’Manburg to, perhaps, sneak in unnoticed at some points. Dream “allows” him here to go to the Nether (even though technically there is no reason why the exile would extend to there as well), so they get to work on fixing a ruined portal. “Did you know, I apparently blew up a nation and killed everyone” (thank God we have Ghostbur, he makes everything better). One thing I want to note though: at this point Tommy still kills the mobs attacking him when Dream is not stalking him and doing it for him, which is kind of nice. We are still at the first exile stream though...

“Can I go back for like an hour and see all my friends?” “No, they can come here though. I-I mean Tommy, I think- I think that someone could come here and visit you, but you can’t ever go back. Like I-I don’t have anything against people coming here and visiting you if they want to. They don’t HAVE to, but they can if they really want to” “Tommy think of it this way: whenever you’re in prison you can’t just go and visit your friends, but they can come and visit you” “They can come and visit you, yeah, that’s actually a very- that’s a perfect analogy”

I wonder why the best analogy for Tommy’s situation is not a f*cking exile analogy, but actual prison. Maybe because he is confined to one place, not allowed to keep any personal items and never allowed to go back? Also they actually get to Nether hub at this point and there is the famous scene with Tommy looking at the lava: 

A curious thing about this scene (aside from being a clear indication of the beginning of Tommy’s depressive spiral) is both that Dream didn’t seem to particularly care about Tommy dying up until now (and in the future as well) as long as he is the one to kill him. Meaning that he seemed fine with it as long as he had control over it. And yet at the end there he agrees with Tommy’s statement of “it’s never my time to die” which kinda makes me think that Dream by this point was already entirely set on his idea of Tommy needing to be alive for Dream to control the whole server. Tommy and Dream head back to Logstedshire after this scene.

*Tommy looks at the lava while standing very close to the edge* “I’ll go back through just to... check and see” *Dream hits Tommy away from the edge* “Come on” *Tommy goes back to the edge and Dream pushes him away again, this time covering the hole* “It’s not your time to die yet Tommy” “It’s never my time to die” “That’s true” 

“Home sweet home...” “Home sweet home. I think it’ll be good! People might visit you all the time, I mean, I can visit you! It’s- it’s actually fun to come here! It’s a little bit- it’s a change of scenery, you know?” “It’s not fun to be stuck here” “Well... you’re not ’stuck’ it’s your vacation home!” “Can I go back? I’m ready...” “No but you can leave this area, you can go somewhere else. This is just- like, I took you far away, you can go further if you want”

So, if anyone is wondering, this is not, in fact, Dream giving Tommy more freedom. Especially considering that when Tommy does leave Logstedshire later on Dream literally hunts him down, so no, that was never an option. What Dream is doing here is make himself sound benevolent by comparison by telling Tommy that the only other options he has are worse since they are even further away.

“I’m here for a good time, not for a long time” (more hints towards Tommy’s depressive spiral)

“Guys how do you know when it’s too much?” (and again)

“Can I go and see the tree?” “Tommy, you can’t go and see the tree” “Dream why don’t you let him just- it’s not in L’Manburg! Why don’t you let him just see the tree and then escort him back?” 

Ghostbur my beloved, pointing out holes in Dream’s rules all the time. Something tells me that’s the reason why Dream tried to kill him later on...

Anyway! This concludes this first post because it’s... Oh fuck this is REALLY long.... welp! I’ll make the others in the next few days! 

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-two

I’m liking this two updates a week schedule because I hate leaving you guys hanging like that!! I hope this chapter makes it all better xx.

Oh btw the title of this chapter and last chapter are lyrics from “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet! (Also I know the gif is irrelevant but the ~emotion~ of it is relevant)

ALSO (wow I have a lot I keep forgetting to add) I meant to @ her last chapter, but all of these medical scenes and things were 100% done with the help of @thedumpsterqueen​ because I know next to nothing about all this stuff and she was an angel and let me ask all the crazy questions <333 (P.S. she has a Hotch fic called Standards of Performance on her blog that you guys should alllll read if you haven’t already!! It’s SO good it’s one of my favorites)

Warnings: angst and sadness, but that’s pretty much it

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two: I can’t imagine a world with you gone

Everything is a blur in Hotch’s mind before and after the first gunshot rings through the air. He didn’t need to hear the buzzing in his ear to know it had hit you.

He took off at a sprint, as did the rest of the team.

His ears are ringing. His thoughts are racing. He’s never been a man who talks frequently to God, but he’s praying. Hoping you’re alive. Begging you to not be dead.

Aaron would never forgive himself if you died. As it stands, though, he won’t ever forgive himself for this.

Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi take off in one direction. Hotch and Morgan take the other. Police officers fill the gaps and follow behind, everyone searching for you and Savannah.

Morgan is the first to stumble on the room. His throat aches when he screams for Hotch, keeping his weapon aimed at Savannah.

“Put the gun down!” Morgan yells.

Hotch comes skidding to a stop in the doorway a second later, weapon raised, but his eyes are focused on you. Savannah’s boot is pressing into your thigh, blood oozing from your wound, soaking your pants, spilling onto the concrete. Hotch’s heart drops at the sight. He’s seen enough bullet wounds to know how much blood should come from them. That is too much.

The bullet must’ve hit the major artery. And the thought terrifies him.

Morgan takes the shot when Savannah refuses to move. It hits her stomach and she stumbles for a moment before falling. Morgan yells for the paramedics again, distantly thinking they should be in here by now.

Hotch falls to the ground beside you, his hands cupping your face, not caring who sees. His thumbs tap your cheeks, willing you to open your eyes. You have a pulse, but it’s weak. Weaker than what it should be.

He presses hard over your wound, hoping to slow the bleeding, but there’s more surrounding your leg than he wants to see.

“Y/N?” He says, his eyes watching your eyelids for any movement. He lets out a momentary sigh of relief when your eyes open. “Y/N, please, can you hear me?”

You stare back at him, no signs of his words registering in your eyes. They’re empty. Haunted, again, but for a different reason this time. This time it’s different. “Aaron…”

“I’m here,” Hotch says gently, pressing his hand harder, his heart breaking when you groan in pain. “I know,” he says, shushing you.

Your eyes travel around the room then, and Aaron follows. Morgan is pressing his hand over Savannah’s wound, speaking into his wrist, asking the others where the hell the paramedics are at.

But Aaron doesn’t want you to see that, so he cups your jaw again, turning your eyes back on him. He smiles as best he can, the tears beginning to spill from his eyes as he takes in your face.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly. “Keep holding on. They’re almost here.”

“Aaron,” you try to say, your voice low and strained, and Aaron shakes his head, trying to get you to stop talking. “Aaron...I don’t wanna go without-- I need to tell you that I--”

“Shhh,” he tries again, not wanting you to waste any energy. “You don’t need to.”

“I love you,” you finally get it out. And he’s stunned to complete silence and tears. “I love you so...so much. It hurts.”

“Y/N,” he says, panicked. Your eyes are closing. “Y/N! Come back, Y/N, come back to me. Y/N. Y/N, please.”

Hotch is too caught up in holding your face and keeping pressure on your wound to notice the paramedics have arrived. One team goes to Savannah, relieving Morgan, while the other comes to you, trying to usher Hotch away, but he doesn’t budge.  

“Hotch,” Morgan tugs on the unit chief, grabbing at his arms, his heart breaking for the both of you. “Hotch, you need to let them get to her.”

Reluctantly, Hotch backs up, clenching his bloodied fist, grimacing at the way your blood sticks his skin together.

Everything else is a blur.

What does it need to be clear for, anyway? If you’re not here?

+++

You’re still in surgery.

It’s been an hour. But it feels longer. It feels like it’s been an entire twenty-four hours.

The entire team has taken up camp in a waiting room at the hospital.

Reid is reading and rereading every magazine he can get his hands on to distract himself, never mind the fact that he reads them so fast that he rips a page on one from turning it so quickly. Morgan has Garcia on the phone and has left to get coffee at least three times, the first time returning with a tray of steaming cups and the next two times returning with only one, but two tearful eyes. Emily has been pacing and will wear a hole into the tile at this rate if she walks for another hour. JJ has been staring at the wall, chewing so hard on the inside of her cheek that she flinches when she draws blood.

Rossi has been staring at the wall, too, but mostly he’s been worrying about and watching Hotch.

Aaron has been biting his nails, tugging at his hair, angrily wiping away tears, and left once to go on a walk before returning two minutes later, asking if they had heard anything. Those two minutes had felt like two hours and he was worried sick for all 120 seconds that he missed something.

Dave hasn’t tried to say anything to Aaron, though he wants to. It’s heartbreaking to watch Aaron like this.

You’re going to pull through. Dave — and the rest of the team — can’t afford to think otherwise. And they refuse to think otherwise, unable to imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.

But it seems like Aaron is thinking otherwise.

Truthfully, he is. But he’s thinking about so much more.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

And he was too stunned to say it back. The one chance he had, and it might be gone now. Ripped away. Forever.

He sent you in there. He did this to you. He had his reservations, but the call had already been made. You seemed so sure. You wanted to do this so badly. He didn’t want another fight about him not trusting you because it’s not about his trust for you, it’s about how terrified he was for you.

He’ll never forgive himself for this now. Not ever.

It’s a world he can’t even bear to imagine. One without you in it.

Yet here he is, grappling with the fact that he might not have to imagine it soon. He sent you in there. He knowingly put your life in danger. And now he’ll have to live with the consequences.

+++

Aaron is shaken from his trance by the doctor and a nurse coming in to inform the team that you’re out of surgery and that it went well.

But you’re in the ICU.

“She lost a great deal of blood,” the doctor says gravely. “But we think she’ll pull through. She just needs to be watched closely for the time being.”

Everyone nods silently, not sure of what else to say, other than feeling relief that you’re alive.

“Visiting hours are long over, so I recommend you all get some rest,” the nurse says. “She’s in good hands here.”

“Thank you,” Rossi replies.

The doctor excused himself, but the nurse stayed, offering to answer any extra questions. “Visiting hours start at seven a.m.,” she says first. “And in the ICU, only two visitors are allowed in her room at a time.” She doesn’t voice an apology, but one is in her tone as she glances between the six team members.

“Can I stay?” Hotch blurts out of nowhere. The team member’s heads all turn to look at him in surprise. “Can anyone stay the night, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah,” the nurse nods. “One person can.” Her eyebrows furrow sincerely. “Are you her dad?”

Morgan internalizes a snort.

“No,” Hotch replies kindly. “I’m not, but I’d like to stay. I’m her boss.”

Still the nurse looks skeptical. “Would she be okay with—”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Emily blurts out, tired of waiting. And when Hotch sends her a look, she says, “What? It would’ve taken you hours to say it.”

“Oh,” the nurse chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course you can stay.”

Hotch lets a tiny smile shine through, but it’s not much. Truth is, he’s terrified to see you. But leaving you here alone – even if this is a hospital – terrifies him more.

The rest of the team says goodbye to head back to the hotel for some much-needed rest, if they can sleep at all. They know they’ll wake every couple hours to worry about you before sleep consumes them once more.

In the meantime, Hotch will be here to look after you for all of them. You’re like a little sister to the rest of them, even though Morgan is the only one to have voiced that. You’re loved here. Loved more than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.

You’re loved by Aaron much more than he’ll ever be able to articulate to you. But he’ll try. He’ll try to help you see.

+++

Hotch is finally walking to your room in the ICU after another half hour of waiting. The nurse said they had to get everything settled in your room before he could come back, which only made Hotch’s worry spike even more.

But eventually, he’s in your room with you. A pillow and blanket is in the chair by the window, but he’s not paying attention to it.

You. You’re asleep, of course, and probably will be for a few more hours. The nurse said you had already woken up once, but because of the pain medicine and the overall stress your body has been under in the past few hours, you fell back to sleep almost instantly.

Tears well in his eyes at the sight of you, laid up in the hospital bed, IVs and wires all over you. The beeping of the heart monitor is the only real sign to him that you’re even alive. Your chest is rising and falling, but it’s barely visible underneath the gown and blankets and wires.

You have one regular IV placed on the top of your left hand. Some other line is in your upper arm, and another in your wrist. He has no idea what they’re all for, he just knows he hates seeing you connected to so much.

Aaron wipes at his eyes angrily. Does he have a right to be this upset when he’s the one who sent you in there?

He turns and sets the pillow and blankets in the other chair, knowing he won’t sleep tonight even if he wanted to. Instead, he pulls the chair closer to your bed, where he can place his hand next to yours.

And, if you happen to wake up, you can reach for him if you need to.

+++

Three hours pass and you still haven’t woken up. Aaron knows. He’s been watching you the entire time.

The nurses have come to check on you a few times, assuring Aaron that it’s normal for you to be sleeping like this. But he just nods silently.

He wants you to wake up. Just for a minute. He needs you to just open your eyes and look at him, just once. That’s all he needs.

But it’s wishful thinking as the sky begins to lighten, showing the first signs of dawn.

Aaron links his pinky with yours, afraid to do much else and risk messing up your IV. Holding pinky fingers is enough right now. Or at least, it’ll have to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud, to you, or really to no one at all, because he’s not even sure you can hear him. “I’m just so...sorry, Y/N.”

Stupid tears gather in his eyes again, clogging his throat, stopping his words.

But he keeps going.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “And I know you’ll try to convince me that it’s not, but Y/N, it is and I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let this happen to you.”

He leans his head into the palm of his free hand, tightening his pinky finger’s grip on yours.

“I love you,” he blurts it out, tears warming his palm as they cascade down his cheeks. “I love you and I need you to wake up because I need you to hear it. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day that I’ve known you that I haven’t loved you.”

He sniffles, loud and body-rattling, glad he’s alone in this room with you because he’d never let anyone else see him like this. No one but you.

“I tried to get it out before, but you were already gone, and I— You need to wake up. I need you to wake up. Please.”

Aaron keeps his eyes closed and head down for a few minutes longer. He doesn’t even see that you’ve opened your eyes.

Until your pinky finger gently squeezes his.

He lifts his head quickly, eyes wide and wild when he sees you’re looking back at him, eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion.

And just like that, just seeing your eyes open and looking right at him, the dam breaks once more. He’s a mess of tears when he leans his head down onto the bed. You lift your hand and thread your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes as more tears slip down your cheeks.

You scratch a soothing pattern on the base of his skull, moving your other hand over your body to hold onto his arm. He senses the movement and lifts his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, all he knows is his back aches when he straightens up again, and you’ve fallen back asleep.

Next chapter

[raggaraddy]

Mercy

Summary: You want to save your friend from Seokjin even though you know how cruel his punishments can be.

Trigger warning: Torture, assault, burning.

A/N: Please note this story has violent themes that may be uncomfortable for some readers. Please do not read this story if you are underage or are sensitive to such topics.

Seokjin

Yandere!Seokjin King!Seokjin

"I will die." Is all Annette could say, over and over. The elderly maid stood with you, the remnants of a suit jacket in her hands, a helpless fright shaking her words. She had been distracted for a moment and the fabric had caught on a candle. Her reaction was one of frozen shock and the flame quickly jumped along it, scorching about 30% of the material before you managed to put it out.

Whether the King cared for the item or not, whether he even noticed it was gone was irrelevant. You all knew better than to hide something from him. He would eventually find out, somehow he always did. And when he found out she had hidden her failure, he would bring the very concept of hell to life for her deception.

That being said, to confess to such a mistake would also certainly lead to dire consequences. All of the staff knew to catch his attention in any way was a disastrous thing. And any action that gave him a reason to torture you would surely become your greatest regret.

At nearly 70 years, Annette had seen and heard just about all of what the King was capable of. He may be a merciful ruler, but within these walls, he was nothing more than a beast in search of yet another person to devour.

You knew as well as any other, if not more so, exactly why she was so afraid. The thought of what he could do terrified you. But you also knew that she was one among many of the staff who had gone out of their way to shelter you from the King in the initial months after you started at the palace. If you had heeded their instruction and warnings, you may have never even crossed his path. But you were impetuous and resistant and now you had the scars and marks as penance. You also knew that with or without reason or mistake, you already had the Kings focus. Maybe today or maybe tomorrow or the day after, he was going to call you to him again like he regularly did, and he was going to take pleasure in hurting you. Nothing was going to stop that.

But there was still an opportunity to spare this woman.

It was only you and Annette here to see the jacket be damaged. It could have easily been you that was distracted. You were known to be absent-minded. It would be very believable that this was your fault.

"Anne, give it to me." You request, holding your hands out. The woman, still in a daze, hands it over without any acknowledgment. You point to your section of the room to the clothes you had been cleaning. "Those were yours, okay." You gesture to her section and the damaged garment. "And these are mine."

Your meaning seems to slowly click into place. "No, Y/n. You can not do that, Love. I-"

"You are my friend. And you made a simple mistake. You shouldn't have to suffer for it. You know what Jin will do to me anyway. There is no need for both of us to-." Your words are strong and sure but taper off as the fear and worry you feel on the inside stop you from creating a complete sentence.

With a mix of pain and gratitude in her eyes, she resigns with a nod. Accepting your merciful offer.

His attendant had informed you that the King was available and alone. You realized early on that it was better to come to him when he was by himself. Not that it would lessen how he treated you, but at least this way no one else would see what he would do to you. And it would save you some shame.

The guard knocks on the door. He opens it with permission and announces you. On hearing the King call you in, you have to wipe your hands down the length of your dress to rid them of sweat. You enter the room, the guard closing the door on your back sealing you in the study.

Sitting at his desk Jin's usual emotionless expression is gone, a subtle look of intrigue in its place. And what is nearly a smile on his lips.

You had never come to him of your own free will before. He had always summoned you. But here you were. Seeming to offer yourself up.

"Your Majesty." You curtsy, bowing your head if only to hide the tremble in your eyes.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected company?" He purrs.

This was it. Time to confess to something you had not done and receive a punishment you did not deserve. While you could never actually do it, you can't help but momentarily question whether to instead tell the truth and betray Annette.

You breathe deep for strength. "I need to apologize for a mistake I made." You look up to him to sense his reaction. For a brief moment, he flashes a look that is nearly giddy with excitement.

"For what?" He prompts.

Gripping it tightly, you lift up the tattered jacket for him to see.

He stands, that hidden smile becoming clear on his face. Circling the desk, he takes it from your hands and continues strolling down the room until he stops next to the lounge arrangement in front of the fireplace. Turning, his finger is pressed to his lips in thought.

"Come here," he calls softly with a drawing motion from the same finger.

You swallow heavily, sucking your tongue to wet your dry mouth. Although you follow the order, you are filled with regret and a deep-seated desire to turn and run from him instead. However, you had made that mistake once before and you swore you would never again.

"Kneel." He points down to the fireplace's outer hearth. Looking lowly and fighting back nausea, you do. You can feel the heat from the burning wood and embers against your front right away. "Place your arm above the fire." He instructs. The calm of his tone not matching with the cruelty of the order.

There is only a wall around the fireplace. So the only thing he could mean is to put your arm inside the firepit over the flame.

Slowly, trying not to touch the top of the pit or the fire itself, you guide your arm in as Jin commanded. Instantly, the heat swarms around your skin and too quickly it goes from warm to hot to burning. You hold it for about 20 seconds, hissing air in through your teeth until you can't any longer.

You yank your body back with a yelp. Panting, looking over how the skin has turned red after only a few moments.

His large hands grab your hair and slam your face into the bricked wall. Your head bounces off and you fall back, clutching your forehead feeling the skin having torn.

Seokjin nods towards the outer hearth again, mouth pressed into a straight line. You want to beg and whine for him to not make you do this, but again you had done so a few times before and were taught quickly that it was better to not say or do anything more than what he orders.

Hesitantly you climb back up. He's not going to ask again, the next time he is more likely to push you into the coals himself.

Unable to stop yourself from jerking your arm back every few inches, you slow back above the fire. The burn returning even quicker. You force yourself to hold still this time. Drawing on all your strength to endure. Your fingers and cut forehead pressing and clinging into the bricks, you try to bear the pain as you feel your skin beginning to burn.

Kicking your feet under you, you're whimpering and squealing, tears pricking in your eyes, as waves of sharp sizzling pangs spur up your arm. Instinctually your body continues to flinch and jerk, fighting to get away, but you overpower your impulses. The effort turning shrill cries into outright screams of agony.

For nearly two minutes Seokjin listens and watches you writhe and cry, a small satisfied smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes.

At a point past pain where the throb in your body starts to have you feeling numb, the King finally grants you quarter, permitting you to remove your arm.

You do so stiffly. Your entire body throbbing, head pounding. Your chest compressed from heavy sobs.

Dropping onto the ground, you cradle your arm. Your forearm and palm are littered with blisters and burns. The skin red and ruined.

The King holds the tarnished fabric upright, examining it again for a moment. With a shrug, he throws it into the fireplace to finish its destruction. "No matter," he tisks "I didn't really like that jacket anyway."

[omiscurls]

how these haikyuu! characters react after making you cry/feel bad

characters in question: atsumu miya, kiyoomi sakusa, tooru oikawa, tobio kageyama

warnings: one or two curse words, nothing big

part two will be linked here and will contain Eita Semi, Rintarō Suna and Kozume Kenma

Kiyoomi Sakusa 

You were probably somewhere public, like out shopping or stuff, and he really, REALLY hates going shopping. There’s so many people, it smells terribly and unfortunately, every time he somehow goes to the mall, plenty of people manage to bump into his shoulder, which pisses him off to the max. And you were there for two, very long hours. You came back to him from some sort of a shop where you bought a christmas present for someone.

“Look what I got!” you said in a cheerful way, the little bag dangling on your fingers. 

“Mhm, cool” he said, not even minding the wonderful gift you got. You were hoping he’d ask what inside, so you could hide it from him. It was in fact a gift for your precious boyfriend, and you wanted to tease him about it, knowing he’s lowkey excited for christmas. 

That wasn’t in store for today, as he was tired, annoyed to his very limits, and desperately wanted to go home. You pouted, looking at him accusingly. 

“Hey, you’re not even interested!” 

“You’re absolutely right, I’m not” he said, walking away towards the parking lot, leaving you behind, needing to catch up to him. Something stang your heart in the way he said it. Did he really not care at all? He said he’d come with you, after all, he was in such a good mood in the morning. 

“Are you mad?” you asked, way more quiet already. 

“Are you mad?” he mocked you in the most annoying, high-pitched voice he could get out of his throat, rolling his eyes. “No, it’s just that my girlfriend’s dumb and childish” he added, speeding up. 

What? 

You froze in place. Your brain kept telling you he doesn’t mean it, and he’s just stressed at the moment, he’ll most likely apologize a hundred times as soon as you get home. You knew that. You knew you had to respect and mind some things in his brain that were just made a certain way. You knew all that, and yet, it still hurted, to have all your christmas-ish atmosphere and mood ruined like that. 

But still, your common sense stopped you from causing a scene, as you quietly followed your angry boyfriend. He checked whether you were still there, because the one thing he hated more than being in shopping malls was being in shopping malls alone, but you didn’t notice, eyes fixed on your shoes, so you wouldn’t cry. 

You absolutely hated it when he raised his voice at you the way he did. It could’ve been worse, you were probably overreacting... 

You glanced over at the small bag you were carrying, and the very valuable gift you picked out, and remembered how happy you were about it a second ago. How happy you were to make him happy. 

You couldn’t stop the tears then, but managed to keep them silent, so that he wouldn’t notice. The two of you got to his car, and you still stayed quiet as he drove out of the parking lot, and onto the road. Looking at the window constantly, you managed to hide the trails of tears on your cheeks, until the moment you sobbed by complete accident. Your eyes widened, and muscles became tense, knowing you must’ve made a sound, and he must’ve heard it. 

And damn right he did, his heart immediately dropped, he thought you were just pouting about the name he called you, but obviously, OBVIOUSLY you knew he did it out of stress, right? Obviously you knew he was already planning on how to apologize, but first he needed to calm down, so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid again. 

But there you were, crying? On his front seat? But that was one stupid name, why did you care this much? 

He sighed, and you watched in shock as he took the first place he could stop at and got out of the car, without saying a word. You thought he needed fresh air, or something, but no, he walked up to your side of the vehicle, and opened the door. 

“Come on, get up” he said, way softer than you expected him to, but you just stared at him in surprise. “Fine then” he added, when you wouldn’t move, and bent over to personally undo your seatbelt, and took your hand to help you up. 

You were now standing in front of him, with a shy expression across your face. You watched in frustration as he battled with himself what to do next, it was such a spontaneous decision that he didn’t have the time to think his apology through.

You watched him frown, run a hand through his hair in stress and play with his fingers for a while. He really sucked at apologizing, but what he sucked at even more, was physical affection. Though he really liked hugging you, under certain conditions, he didn’t feel comfortable doing that here, and after long shopping, while his nerves were all ripped apart.

Words was all he had left.

“I’m sorry” he finally said. “You know I didn’t mean that. You’re not stupid, nor are you childish. I was just stressed. Please, tell me how I can make it up to you.”

You knew, you knew he didn’t mean that, but you wished you didn’t have to. You stayed silent, and he began to panick, why didn’t you respond? He moved further away and looked you in the eyes, worry in his dark irises. 

“I really, really want to see what you got. I do. Just, let’s get home first, please?” he asked in a really soft, almost childish voice. “Come on, I’ll make dinner, how about that? I’ll try your favorite.”

And when you nodded, he sighed with relief. He’d probably die before he’d spontaneously kiss you or anything, so he was glad words worked on you. And he knew for a fact, that he never wanted to make you feel unappreciated again.

Atsumu Miya

He’s stressed before a game. The Jackals had a major fight the other day and he just knows the energy on the field won’t be as good, and he’s competing against one of his highschool rivals. 

It doesn’t help when Osamu and you tease him about the fight, claiming he was the one to cause this, even know you all know DAMN WELL it started with Bokuto and Sakusa. 

So yeah, the great Atsumu Miya is stressed. He’s afraid it will all be blamed on him, again. So he sits in the living room, draped all over your couch, huge headphones on as he plays some game on the PlayStation. 

You enter the room after coming home and smile upon seeing him in such a childlike position and activity, and you go over to the kitchen to make tea. You put one of the cups with it in front of him, waving your hand before his face. 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks” he says, gently pushing you out of his vision, so you don’t interrupt his game. You pout slightly, but smile, he looks so cute and focused. 

After a while you come back into the room, and he’s just staring at the ceiling, the controler in his hand. 

“Your tea is cold by now” you whine, looking at the cup. 

“Mhm” he only responds, not minding your comment. That irritated you slightly, but you only took the controler out of his grip, noticing the screen was already turned off, and sat on the couch. 

“Stressed you fucked up?” you giggle, slightly pushing his bangs back, wanting to kiss his forehead after, but you stop in your actions after you notice how he’s looking at you. 

“I didn’t fuck up” he states codly and slowly “I did nothing wrong! It was Sakusa and Bokuto who started the fight, all I did was try to keep them from ripping each other apart!” his voice slowly rises up, as he lifts himself up to a sitting position, betrayal forming in his eyes. He doesn’t even call his teammates Omi and Bokkun, he reffers to them with their whole surnames. “Why do you all keep assuming I’m the one who fucked up? Why does it always have to be me in your eyes, huh? You’re my girlfriend, you should know better!” he shouts, standing up, and you follow him with a worried look, not wanting to hear him yell anymore. 

“Calm down, Tsumu, I was joking of course I—” you begin, but he doesn’t let you finish, snatching away the hand you were going to put on his cheek. 

“Of course you were! All you ever do is joke about me, like I’m some kind of a fucking spectacle! Why do I even bother dealing with you?” he says in a cold manner, storming out of the room, as you’re left there, speechless, tears flowing down your cheeks. All you wanted was to change the atmosphere a bit, maybe you got to it the wrong way, but still, why did he react like that?

You slowly get yourself to leave and go to the bathroom, where you close the door behind you and slide your back against it until you reach the floor. You look at yourself in the huge mirror in front of you — were you really that terrible? That hard to deal with? 

Sobs leave your mouth uncontrollably as you think of Atsumu leaving because of such a small and irrelevant little thing. 

But he didn’t leave, he just went to the bedroom to calm down, and suddenly he feels guilty, so he tries to look for you. As you didn’t turn on the lights in the bathroom, he doesn’t check it at first, but upon hearing your cry, he freezes. 

Wait, wait, wait. You were the one to make him feel bad, not the other way around. Did he say something he doesn’t remember? Did something else happen to you and you wanted to tell him, but he didn’t let you? What happened, why is his little princess crying? 

He knocks on the door, lightly. 

“Are ya there?” he asked, as his obvious accent gets more noticeable with emotion. You don’t respond, so he kneels in fornt of the door to look wether your sitting by it. “See, I know you’re there” he says as calm as he possibly can. “Come out, please”. 

When you don’t respond again, he wants to open the door himself, as he sees it’s not locked, but he doesn’t want to seem this controlling. 

“Okay, I’ll wait” he just says instead, sitting by the door, making you two sit almost back to back. “Ya know, I’m a bit hurt myself, do ya know how difficult it is when people always assume you’re the dumb one? And then your girlfriend does, too? I know it wasn’t a big deal, I know you were joking. Just, I’m really worried about this situation, ya know?”

“I’m sorry” you whisper, and he instantly turns back, not remembering there’s a door between you. 

“Don’t be sorry, I overreacted, princess. Just, please, remember that I have feelings, too, please. I’m so, so sorry for hurting yours”

You try to open the door, and he quickly rolls away, and smiles softly upon noticing your red, wet face and swollen eyes. 

“Yer not difficult to deal with, princess. Dealing with ya is an honor” he says quietly, as he opens his arms to hug you, and wraps them tightly around you, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, we’re okay” he laughs, as he presses a quick kiss on your forehead. 

You nod. 

“But really, you’re sensitive, princess” he laugh vibrantly, looking over at you. You punch him slightly on the torso. 

“Like you’re the one to talk.”

Tooru Oikawa 

You fight about his fangirls, obviously. You usually just let them be, knowing damn well your beloved boyfriend only has eyes on you, as he often jokingly states, but that one day you just weren’t feeling like yourself.

You were moody all day, walking around as if you were half dead, rude and bitter to everyone, even if it is uncharacteristical for you. Then when you meet your boyfriend after his practice, it turns out that his day wasn’t any better.

Usually you’re his best cheerleader and vice versa, but when you’re both mad, well it’s a mixture that can blow up any given moment.

He waves at you calmly from outside his locker room, walking over slowly in your direction. Usually he’d run up and give you a spin, so you instantly know he’s not in the mood for anything.

Almost mechanically he stops by you and gives you a peck on the cheek. You grab his hand and begin walking out of the building.

“All set and ready?” you ask before starting to walk again, and he simply nods. You feel the angry glances of all the girls that wish to be you, and almost tremble at the amount of hatred coming from them silently.

And then, Oikawa waves. That’s literally all he has to do for them to turn into literal angels and squeal all over the place like the annoying little shits they are, at least for you and at least that day.

You tighten the grip on his hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Your bad mood collapses even further as you overhear some sort of a conversation about your body, obviously not a very polite and respectful one. You press your lips into a straight line, as you two walk out of the building.

“They were annoying weren’t they?” you ask, wanting to keep some sort of a conversation with your boyfriend.

“You always find them annoying, chill already” you hear in response, glancing over at him with surprise.

“Well I’m sorry for not wanting to hear it again how I’m clumsy, and ugly, and not enough-“

“Your level of self pity is really high these days, you know that?” he states bluntly, as you feel something stinging your heart. “Relax already, geez” he then adds, letting go of your hand.

“Well then, keep relaxing by yourself” you answer in a bit, suddenly walking in a different direction than he did. You hear him shout at your back to stop doing this and come there, but you don’t care. You practically run over to your house, hot tears streaming down your face.

All you wanted was a bit of encouragement. The slightest bit of what they received, a flash of that smile, but no, all you received was coldness and bitter comments about your self esteem.

You shut the door behind you and go up to your room, not even taking off your shoes, just throwing yourself at the bed, screaming into the pillow. What a dick, you think, but also wish he was there apologizing and hugging you right now.

Why didnt he run to stop you? He was faster, he’d catch up in a second. You totally forget that he also seemed off.

Around half an hour later you hear a knock on the door, but can’t bring yourself to answer.

“I’m coming in myself if you won’t open, just to let you know!” you hear, but decide to just lay still. And as promised, your front door opens, and then the sound of footsteps echoes around the place, until you hear a small knock on the open door to your room.

“Care to look up maybe?” he asks, but you shake your head no in response.

He walks over, leaving something on your desk, and moves your chin so you’d look at him himself.

“So... your dickhead of a boyfriend is sorry” he states calmly, reaching for the flowers he left on the desk previously. Your favorites, obviously, that’s so Oikawa.

“Tell him I don’t want to talk” you answer, tilting your head to the other side. He laughs softly.

“Come on, he can’t just leave you here, mad at him! Let him make it up in some way” he says, moving you to the side of your bed so he can sit there, and lifts you up so you’d sit across from him. “Pretty pretty please, forgive me for being an asshole” he pleads, going full on puppy eyes.

You stay silent.

“Come on baby, you know you’re prettier, and smarter, and funnier than all of them at once! And the one thing you have that they obviously don’t, is my undying love!” he puts a hand over his forehead in a theatrical gesture, closing his eyes and lifting his chin as if he was a fifteenth century princess about to faint. You giggle, and he considers this a win.

“All jokes aside though, everyone is somehow beautiful in their own way. But you, your royal highness, you’re beautiful in every way possible” he whispers dramatically, getting closer so he can kiss the tip of your nose. „Plus I did bring the flowers, so it would kinda hurt if you wouldn’t forgive me”

You roll your eyes and nod calmly, watching him do a cute little victory dance.

“Now can I talk about how mean Iwaizumi was to me today? And you won’t believe what I got into this morning—“

Tobio Kageyama 

He’s being a clueless dick without realising it. You know damn well that all his life he’s been focused only on his passion, and nothing else seemed to be bothering his mind. You know you’re his first s/o, and that comes with a lot of fluffy, exciting moments, but also with a lot of embarassing fights about nothing. 

So you’re patient, most of the time. He doesn’t have a lot of spare moments to share with you, as his career is speeding up constantly ever since he left middle school, you’re fine with that. You’re fine with him leaving for a couple of days very often, you’re fine with him spending more time with his teammates than with you, that’s all understandable and logical. 

But his behaviour often isn’t. 

“Hey!” you say, standing on your tippy toes to cover his eyes with your hands “Guess who?” 

“I know it’s you” he answers, turning around “And I can’t talk right now” he adds, ready to leave. You notice hinata in front of him, apparently they were in the middle of a conversation. You suddenly feel bad for interrupting. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to. Are we still on for tonight, though?” 

“On for what?” he asks, eyebrows raised in total surprise. You can’t believe it, did he forget?

“Well, we have a date” you hiss bitterly, and get even more annoyed as he smirks a bit.

“Oh that, yeah no I can’t, I don’t have the time” he says before turning away and walking to the gym room.

“Oi, that was a bit rude” Hinata complains, but Kageyama only shakes his head.

“Shut it and let’s get to work” he states, his voice demanding obedience.

They both turn around a tiny bit, only to notice your figure fade away in the distance as you run off. A little needle of guilt stabs Kageyama’s heart softly, but he shakes it off.

“Kageyama, better go fix this” Hinata says, worry painted all across his face. “She looked pretty upset to me”

“Stop being nosy, it’s my relationship” he dismisses coldly, but Shouyou doesn’t seem to move from where he’s standing.

“Tobio, no. The tournament isn’t even here for another two months. Hell, we don’t even have practice today! We’re just practicing on our own!”

“Yeah, and you always insist on doing that. Stop being so sensitive today”

But Hinata doesn’t back down.

“Fine then, just don’t whine to me when she breaks up with you. Because she will, eventually, if you keep being a dick to her. Do you even love her?”

“Of course I do, you idiot!” Kageyama shouts, realizing what his friend is saying. He can’t bare the thought of you breaking up with him. Would you really do that? Would you leave him alone?

“Then go, and fix this, before we’ll al have to deal with your broken heart” the redhead adds, before grabbing his coat and walking towards the entrance. Kageyama is left in shock as he takes out his phone and tries to call you, but you don’t pick up.

Every time you don’t respond, Hinata’s voice keep getting louder in his head. You’ll break up with him. He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t know what he’d do.

He eventually runs out of the building, searching for you with his eyes. After a dozen missed calls, he finds your small figure in the distance, and runs up to you.

Even though his heart rages with emotion, he can’t seem to be able to tap your shoulder, and he doesn’t know whether he’ll find it in himself to apologize. Pride, and all that.

He finally does it, and you turn around, for him to see your puffy eyes and wet cheeks. Oh shit, he didn’t think he’d make you cry. What does one do in a situation like this?

“Follow me” he says, grabbing your hand. He doesn’t find the right words to apologize, so he just decides to take you on the best date he can think of.

“No” you answer, staying in place. “Why would I?”

“Because we’re going on a date”

“What makes you think I still want to go with you?” you ask, but the proud manner of your voice disappears as it cracks and tears form under your eyelids again.

What also cracks, is that poor, inexperienced heart of his.

“Please” he says “Please, let me take you out on a date you deserve”

Then he bows, slightly, and you find that scene both amusing and a bit uncomfortable.

You chuckle.

“Then say you’re sorry.”

He looks up at you with disbelief. Oh how petty, but he deserves that. He deserves to do what he’s not so good at, if he wants to show you he cares.

“I, uhm, I sincerely apologize for making you cry. I acted like an asshole” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“How formal” you laugh, walking up to him and grabbing his hand. “Fine then, but better suprise me, Kageyama Tobio”

“You got it” he smiles.

[k-s-morgan]

What He Grows to Be: Snippet 5

Thank you to everyone who expressed their preference over what they’d prefer to see in the snippet! Tom watching Harry’s memories about the Chamber of Secrets got the most votes, so here is the draft version of it. Though since it’s almost 4K long, maybe calling it a snippet isn’t appropriate :D 

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Talking through a diary was an interesting idea. Tom wasn’t sure what kind of magic this was, but now that he’d seen it, he could figure it out. He and Harry would be able to have immediate conversations instead of relying on letters or Patronuses.

Then again, considering what this diary had led to, perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. The last thing Tom wanted was to add himself into Harry’s collection of negative associations in one more way.

He didn’t see how Harry had managed to get into the Chamber of Secrets. One moment, he was staring at the bloody inscription on the wall; the next one, he was standing in an entirely new vast space. Tom still had no idea where it was located or how to access it.

His heart sank in disappointment, but when the full implications hit him, it stopped entirely.

Harry had excluded this memory on purpose. He didn’t trust Tom with the knowledge of where the Chamber was. He showed him the core events but not the details because his trust and his faith were already gone by that point.

And the ritual made it even worse.  

An uncomfortable itchy heat began to radiate from Tom’s chest. The sensation was entirely unfamiliar, so he pressed his palm against it, confused and hoping to squash it down.

He couldn’t name it, but it felt a little like shame. He’d never experienced it to this extent before, and it was never mixed with this kind of almost desperate hurt.

He’d been trying. For years, he’d been trying to be someone Harry would approve of. The craving, the longing for his acceptance stayed his hand so many times that now Tom couldn’t count them all — he even allowed that scum Morfin to blackmail him, no matter how maddeningly outrageous the whole situation was, simply because he refused to risk Harry finding out.

He’d made mistakes, but they were minimal in comparison to what he would have done if he hadn’t been trying. And yet Harry still didn’t trust him.

The shame began to curl away, giving way to dejection. Loneliness suddenly felt sharp and uncompromising, and Tom wrapped his hands around himself, watching how Harry’s head snapped up.      

“She won’t wake,” a voice said. It was soft but cold, so it took a moment for Tom to recognise it. His eyes quickly moved towards one of the pillars, and something in him shuddered from what he saw.

It was like watching his reflection in someone else’s dream. Something was wrong with the boy he was looking at, and it wasn’t just about the fact that his physical contours were blurred, as if he was being held together by magic alone.

No, he was simply different. He didn’t have the splendour Tom prided himself on. He was thinner and hollow-cheeked; his clothes, while neat, came from some cheap store Tom would have never stepped into. He was but a shadow with empty vicious eyes and greed that swarmed around him in a cloud — greed Tom wasn’t sure he could relate to.

He longed for things. He longed for Harry. But even from here, he could read the shallowness and the arrogance written all over his twin’s face, and he didn’t like it one bit.

This wasn’t him. This was Tom Riddle. Someone he could have been.

“Are you a ghost?” Harry asked. He was staring at Riddle with such earnestness, like he trusted him entirely and couldn’t see what a hollow shell he was. This was the first time Tom would disappoint him — the first in a long line of failures and betrayals.

“No,” Tom murmured to himself, shaking his head briefly. He couldn’t keep blurring himself and Riddle — that way madness lied. Despite some superficial similarities, they were completely different people. He might have let Harry down, too, but their story was different. This abomination was dead and could never touch it.

“A memory,” Riddle replied. His voice was quiet, but its sinister and bitter undertones were as loud as shouting. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

Tom’s brows furrowed. What? A memory? That must have been some ritual. Why would he condemn himself to this kind of existence? To give Voldemort more power? Maybe Voldemort had managed to subdue his will and make him into a brainless soldier somehow. This was more plausible than any version of him feeling such loyalty to some monster that he would follow him blindly and sacrifice his life force for him.

How did one become a memory in the first place? Even Tom with his knowledge about all possible forms of dark arts couldn’t figure it out.

Riddle burst into an animated, mostly one-sided conversation, and several minutes later, Tom had to admit that listening to his own voice was surprisingly challenging. Riddle’s arrogance was distorting his words; his excitement over successfully breaking an 11-year-old girl was embarrassing — Tom had felt less enthusiastic when he killed Charlus, and that happened back when he was a child himself. His first impression had been accurate: Riddle was worlds away from him. He was stupid, and Tom would have never believed it if he wasn’t witnessing it with his own eyes.  

“I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here,” Riddle said pleasantly. His eyes were fixed on Harry in an intense, hungry way — and well, they did have something in common, after all. “I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.”

“Like what?” Harry spat angrily. He didn’t look intimidated in the slightest — his anger and righteousness made him appear taller, and his blazing eyes were furious enough to stop anyone in their tracks.

“How is it that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?” Riddle wondered. The pleasant notes were disappearing again under the piles of bitterness and odd envy. “How did you escape with nothing but a scar while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

By the end of it, a red gleam entered his eyes. It looked unnatural enough for Tom to make an instinctive step towards Harry.

This was unnerving. Magic was one thing, but what would turn his eyes — Riddle’s eyes — red? Humans couldn’t do that, it went against all laws of nature. Unless… Unless Riddle wasn’t human.

If so, what was he?

“Why do you care how I escaped?” Harry asked slowly. His own gaze was narrowed in a dawning realisation that Tom couldn’t decipher. Did Harry have a theory? How could he — he was only twelve. “Voldemort was after your time.”

Riddle smirked at him, looking almost giddy, and Tom had to amend his opinion. This impostor wasn’t simply stupid, he was crazy. He grew excited over irrelevant things and reacted inappropriately to every logical question Harry asked.

“Voldemort,” he uttered, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter.”

Pulling a wand out of his pocket, he slashed the air with it, writing three rapid words.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Tom studied them, his stare lingering on “Marvolo.” Something about it stood out. Something was strangely familiar.

Before he could follow the clues, Riddle waved the wand again, rearranging the letters. The syllables shifted and clung to each other briefly before assuming their designated places.

I Am Lord Voldemort

His mind went utterly blank. Time stopped. The existence of the world lost its meaning. Tom stared at these words, re-reading them again, and again, and again.

I Am Lord Voldemort.

Tom Riddle. Voldemort.

He was Voldemort.

He was Voldemort. All this time, he was watching himself, and he didn’t even realise this.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Tom recoiled from the damning words so violently that he lost his balance and collapsed onto the wet floor. His body didn’t feel the impact — it couldn’t, he didn’t even have it here, but it still burned, it still groaned and shuddered, as if the weight of his mind and his feelings was too much for it to bear.

“It can’t be,” he tried to speak. No words reached his ears, so he did it again. “It’s not possible. I’m not him.”

Still nothing.

Acid burned at the back of his throat. His stomach contorted in pained shock, and then the terrible screaming something filled his ears, crawling in them until it was the only sound they could perceive. It was violent and shredding — it echoed in his very bones.

He was Voldemort. All along, he was Voldemort. He’d killed Harry’s parents. He tried to kill Harry. He made so many Horcruxes that he had gone insane, losing his mind along with his powers, losing the respect of his followers, leaving only fear in its place.

He wasn’t the right hand of Harry’s nemesis. He was his nemesis. Harry had spent his entire first life hating and fearing him — he had single-handedly ruined Harry’s existence so thoroughly that Harry was forced to escape into the past. To accept guardianship over someone who tortured and destroyed him.

An icy fist closed around his lungs, clawing and squeezing the remains of air out of them. Tom gasped, his body jerking in odd abrupt movements that he had no control over. The next second, the contours of the Chamber of Secrets faded, melting back into Harry’s bedroom. The phantoms of the past were gone — they stayed trapped in the Pensieve, but their terrible echoes remained with Tom. They latched onto his mind with hungry vengeance, throwing an image after an image of the pictures he had seen when he was first watching Harry’s memories.  

It didn’t matter then. Those pictures were just that — the images of a monster he didn’t know and had no direct relationship with. But recalling them now and putting his own face onto them…

His mind rebelled. Tom pressed his hands to his ears, trying to silence the screaming, but it kept getting louder. It hurled accusations and mockeries, painted every crime he committed, every time he hurt Harry and raised his wand against him.

There was no silencing something like this. The only thing Tom could do was outcry it, so he screamed, too.

He found that he couldn’t stop.

***

That night, he added just one sentence to his letter.

Why would you love me?

*** 

The sleep didn’t come. The desire to tear into his skin and shred it until physical pain remained the only sensation was strong, but every time Tom raised his wand or his hands, he stopped.

He wanted to hurt himself. He didn’t want to hurt Harry.

It was easier before. In Harry’s absence, for a long time, he’d been putting his own hurt above everything, even above Harry himself; he’d marred his skin without care, wanting, needing acknowledgement.

But he couldn’t do it now. The thought of leaving even a small scratch on Harry made him sick.

That cursed ritual.

Tom managed to stay physically intact throughout the night, yet he spent it curled into a tight ball, shaking under the pressure of ache and grief and emotions he couldn’t identify. There were so many of them — they were crowding his chest, interfering with his heart, making him feel like he was about to explode with them.

When the morning came and nothing changed, Tom made himself get up. He cooked breakfast, then stared at it silently, knowing that he could never eat it without vomiting it back.

He needed… something. Something comforting. Harry wouldn’t return; Harry’s blanket and things no longer produced the same soothing effect, so it had to be something new.  

If he could capture Harry’s Patronus into some vial… if he could consume the letters Harry had written him…

The letters. He still had the letters. They were the last thing he’d gotten from Harry — they had his personality, his handwriting; they had a whole part of him because Tom could easily trace the story of their creation. From the pressure Harry had applied to a quill in different instances, it was evident where he hesitated, where he took a break, where he got anxious or passionate. It was the closest thing to him Tom had in his possession now.

Without thinking further, he returned to the bedroom and grabbed the last letter. His eyes immediately zeroed in on three specific half-lines.

…I’m going to keep explaining until you do.

…I’ve promised you’ll always be my priority.

…I might consider returning.

A promise of future communication.

The use of future tense.

Future possibility.

This was evidence. Whatever Tom was, Harry didn’t give up on him. Harry still loved him. He might still return.

Tom closed his eyes, nuzzling into the letter, and finally, for the first time in hours, the ache lessened. The sick feeling grew dimmer, too, and he felt solid and grounded again. When he pulled back, his gaze dropped to another passage.

Watch those memories. Don’t contact me until you do.

Tom pressed his lips to these lines, trying to breathe them in, feeling how their rough surface scratched his mouth.

Permission to contact Harry. He still had it. He was simply supposed to meet Harry’s condition.

That meant that he had to return to the Pensieve. The sooner he was done, the closer to Harry he could feel again.

Carefully, Tom folded the letter and put it in his pocket. If things got bad again, he could always touch it and remind himself of the future.

The memories weren’t a punishment. They were a chance to improve things.

Tom couldn’t really be certain, but he preferred to cling to this notion.

This made things easier at least to a small degree.

*** 

He chose to return to the start of the memory. Silently, he watched his shadow speak with Harry, lingered on how it hissed the words of self-admiration and hung onto its useless pride.

“I fashioned myself a new name,” Riddle boasted breathlessly, “a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”

“You are not,” Harry said quietly. Despite his age, his resolution was steely, and if Tom had to choose whom he admired more at this moment... it wouldn’t even be a competition.

“Not what?” Riddle snapped. Insecurity and rage were twisting his ghostly face — it was a pitiful display. If the words of a 12-year-old boy had the power to affect him, then he had not only failed at greatness, he was also a failure of a sorcerer.  

“Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore,” Harry said hotly. “Everyone says so!”

The reasoning was… like that of a child. Even though his stomach was clenched into a tight knot, Tom smiled a little, suddenly overcome with a rush of gentleness and fondness for this particular version of Harry.

He was trusting. He was pure in a way that even his Harry wasn’t — he didn’t see death and destruction yet; he was not betrayed by Dumbledore.

He was not betrayed by Tom.                              

The smile disappeared, leaving Tom hollow.

When Dumbledore’s phoenix burst into the Chamber, carrying the Sorting Hat, Riddle laughed, and Tom laughed with him — only his laughter was hysterical because all pieces in his head suddenly clicked into one clear picture.

Dumbledore. Of course. Of course it was Dumbledore’s plan all along, how did he not see this from the start?

Harry hadn’t sneaked into the Chamber secretly — Dumbledore allowed him to. Dumbledore was likely watching him even now, invisible, waiting for the outcome.

Harry was a Horcrux, and Horcruxes could be destroyed with basilisk’s venom.

This was a test. Dumbledore wanted to see if he could get rid of the Horcrux inside Harry without necessarily killing him. The Hat was here to give Harry the Sword — with his mindless bravery, it was not a surprise that he could pull it out. The phoenix was here to decrease the chances of Harry dying and to heal him after he was stabbed.

Clever. And enraging. Because for Dumbledore, Harry was a game piece. For Tom, he was the world.

He would have let Voldemort live for a thousand of years. He would have allowed him to destroy this universe until nothing was left if it meant he could keep Harry safe. Dumbledore would never prioritise one over a billion, and for that, Tom hated him.

“Kill him,” Riddle hissed. The words sent a jolt of automatic panic through him, and Tom moved between Harry and the basilisk before he could think rationally about it.

The snake was magnificent, there was no denying it. Even the first time, when he’d been distracted to the point of ignorance, he stopped to watch it because it was breath-taking in every way.  

There was only one drawback. It wanted to kill Harry, and it meant that Tom would see it destroyed.

Harry broke into a run with his eyes shut. He managed to half-cross the room when he tripped and crashed down, his chin colliding with the cold stone. The sound of it launched Tom into immediate action again before he could stop his stupid feet.

Feeling this protective for such an extended period of time was exhausting. His heart kept hammering relentlessly and his hands were itching with magic, needing to pour it somewhere to protect Harry and to make sure he never got hurt again. How could anyone live in such a state?

The basilisk roared from pain when Dumbledore’s phoenix attacked it. Its tail whipped across the floor, approaching Harry with deadly speed, and Tom’s heart stopped. It stumbled forwards again only when Harry ducked, crouching, dirty and bloodied but with determination still burning brightly on his face. He was beautiful and desperate, and Tom would have cradled him in his arms if he could touch him.

A gust of wind sent the Hat right in Harry’s face. He grabbed it, put it onto his head, and threw himself to the side when the basilisk’s tail snapped forward again, almost crushing him into nothingness.

This was all strategic. It wasn’t a coincidence that the phoenix appeared immediately after Harry pledged his loyalty to Dumbledore. This was training — training in blind devotion, in recklessness, in self-sacrifice. And Harry had no idea.

At least this Harry didn’t. The adult version knew everything yet he still seemed to hold deep respect for Dumbledore.

Perhaps some training was too ingrained to ever fade from one’s core. This explained… almost everything about Harry. If Tom got another chance to make things right, he would dedicate himself entirely to removing these suicidal ideas from his head once and for all.

Harry pulled out the Sword from the Hat. He spent only a second on contemplating it — the next one, he was already standing and pointing it at the basilisk.  

Nothing about this picture was palatable. The sword was too heavy for a child his size: Harry was struggling with it, and the basilisk kept thrashing, hitting everything in sight. How he survived was a matter of miracle. If he had died… If he’d died, this would be it. Tom would never be the person he was now. He would be limited to a memory in his own diary, to a ruin incapable of human thought. He would never get his second chance, and the life as he knew it would never exist.

Terror that rolled through him could only be rivalled by the sheer horror of witnessing the basilisk’s fang separate itself from its mouth and plunge into Harry’s arm. Static electricity burned somewhere above his elbow in a phantom sensation of pain Harry had to be experiencing. It wasn’t real, but Tom’s breathing still quickened, and his fingers wrapped around his arm convulsively.

He couldn’t tell if the fang fell out because Harry had aimed his Sword there or if it was Dumbledore again. Either way, Harry was dying, and even though Tom knew he’d survive, watching this was no less excruciating.

“Fawkes,” Harry murmured hoarsely. His eyes were fluttering shut in an image that came straight from Tom’s worst nightmares. “You were fantastic, Fawkes.”

Giving praise to an impervious bird when life was bleeding out of him. Harry was insane. He was the Harry — his Harry. It was no wonder that an overwhelming longing for him had been and was going to be Tom’s undoing in every life he lived.

“You’re dead, Harry Potter,” Riddle crowed, and Tom turned to face him with a snarl.

He hated this version of himself. Hated him. It was just a shard of him, dull and shallow, and if this underwhelming thing was ever his future, he would have preferred death.  

Riddle wasn’t a powerful wizard. Even now, when faced with a dying wandless boy, he was too wary of making his own move. He let the basilisk be his weapon; he was watching Harry die and not intervening because he was intimidated.

Though perhaps it made sense. Maybe even Riddle could see Harry’s brilliance despite his narrow-mindedness — maybe, beneath the hatred and the fear, he was fascinated. Tom knew he would be.

Harry might not have much power, and he certainly didn’t at the age of twelve, but he still managed something no other wizard had tried. He’d defeated a giant basilisk with a sword; his agility was almost otherworldly as he twisted, crouched, and ducked from the heavy blows.

This was worthy of admiration. Even Riddle couldn’t be that blind so as to miss it.

When the phoenix healed Harry, Riddle didn’t cry out in alarm or anger like Tom might have expected him to. Instead, his face shifted between different conflicting expressions, and his eyes regained the hungry glint Tom found intimately familiar.

“It makes no difference,” Riddle spoke confidently, with only the tiniest twitch of uncertainty underneath. “In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter... you and me.”

The surprising jealousy raised its ugly head, making Tom tense. He didn’t know in what way his shadow meant these words — he didn’t like to think about it either. It didn’t matter any way because there would never be such thing as Riddle and Harry, not until Harry came back to the past and gave the real Tom a chance at rebirth.

Without answering, Harry stabbed the diary with the fang, his eyes glistening with fevered hatred. Even Riddle’s piercing scream didn’t shake Tom the way this look had. He barely heard a sound through the sudden roaring in his ears, the sudden realisation that this was Harry’s first and last meeting with an actual Tom Riddle. Voldemort was a monstrosity with a face Tom refused to claim, but physically, Riddle was him.

How did Harry feel, watching him grow up? Had he ever looked at him and seen Riddle from the Chamber of Secrets? How could the feeling of love prevail over the feeling of hatred the 12-year-old Harry was currently wearing?

Tom turned away, unable to keep looking. His throat was dry, and as his knees started to shake, threatening to buckle right under him, he thrust his hand into his pocket, gripping the letter there.

In some other world, this moment had been Riddle’s end. But it wouldn’t be his.

He could do better. He would do better.

He’d finish watching these memories, he’d complete his letter to Harry, and then he’d start working. Harry would never look at him like he had at Riddle. In years, the memories of the Chamber of Secrets would fade; Riddle would become a shadow of a shadow, and Tom’s image would outshine him. It would take precedence in Harry’s mind.

This determination washed away the worms of doubts and self-hatred. When the new wave of memories swept him along, Tom felt prepared to face them.