#think of this as more so of me playing around with the cast in my head like dolls

[spectorgram]

eyes wide open

pairing: theodore nott x f! reader summary: you discover that there is so much more to theodore nott than you thought.  content: gryffindor! reader, semi-nsfw (characters are 18+) word count: 5.46k

You have never spoken to Theodore Nott before. You’ve him around a lot, usually with Mattheo Riddle or Lorenzo Berkshire, and he is a regular on the quidditch team — a chaser — so you’d see him zoom by during matches. He’s also in a majority of your classes for this year, which lets you observe him from afar. But past that, you’ve never really had much to do with him beyond seeing him with Malfoy and witnessing how he stands quietly — with either a small smirk or a look of complete apathy on his face — while Malfoy and your friends argue back and forth. 

Having class with Theodore Nott has let you learn three things about him: he’s quiet, whip-sharp, and unbelievably handsome. You didn’t need classes with him to know the last one is a well-known fact; he’s constantly noted as one of the most attractive of your classmates. “Shame he’s a Slytherin,” Lavender Brown once said to you, which had made you roll your eyes and retort, “And what’s wrong with that?” It had gotten you into a big fight and you don’t think she’s spoken to you since, not that you’ve really wanted her to. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Ron asks you as he, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny stand at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. “Mum would love to have you. She’s always banging on about what a lovely girl you are and how polite you were.”

“And I’m sure Fred would love to see you,” Ginny adds. 

You snort, “I’m really sure. But please give my regards to your mother and Fred.”

“Will do,” Ginny says with a two-finger salute. 

Your friends say their farewells as they leave through the portrait hall. You flop against the plush velvet of the couch, staring at the roaring fire. Your parents were on a months-long that brought them to see famous wizarding landmarks so you’re stuck at Hogwarts for the holiday. You’re a little disappointed that you won’t be with your family but another part of you is excited to be in the castle when it’s less populated. You’ll finally get to make your way through the massive pile of books you have at your bedside since you’re usually caught up in listening to and gossiping with your roommates. 

You head up to your room, empty except for you and your owl hooting in his cage. You wiggle your fingers inside, Ramses rubbing his feathery head against them. You grab the first book from the top of your pile, turning the leather-bound edition over in your hand. Hermione gifted it to you for your last birthday: William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. You shimmy into your gold and red striped sweater and tuck the book underneath your arm, walking down to the dining hall for dinner. 

Students are scattered around the Great Hall, some chattering with their friends while others eat silently. The ceiling has shifted to depict a clear night sky, floating candles casting an orange glow. You spot Mattheo Riddle alone at the Slytherin tables but the way he keeps looking to the door makes you assume he’s waiting for a friend. You settle down on a bench all to yourself, piling your plate with the mouthwatering selections available to you. 

You rest your chin on your fist, cracking open the play. You get only a few pages in when you hear a familiar low voice. “All alone, little lion?” His eyes examine you and you suddenly feel too exposed despite your layers. 

You come face-to-face with Theodore Nott and his sea blue eyes. He regards you coolly and you ask, “Can I help you, Nott?”

He points at your copy of Romeo and Juliet. “Where’d you get that?”

You furrow your brow in confusion. Why in Godric’s name is Theodore Nott of all people interested in a Muggle book. You respond, “Hermione gave it to me. Why?”

“It’s hard to find Muggle books here,” he says. His eyes linger on the play. “Think I could borrow it when you’re finished?”

Your brain stalls, questions floating around your head. “Sure,” you finally answer. He nods and neither of you say anything more. The quiet that falls between you two makes you tense and you say, “Is that all, Nott?”

He considers and then says, “I think so.” He heads to the Slytherin tables without another word, sitting beside Mattheo, who’s been watching on keenly. You catch his stare and he smirks, raising a hand in a casual wave. Theodore smacks his shoulder and pulls Mattheo’s hand down. 

You sigh, shake your head in disbelief, and go back to reading the play.

It’s been a few days since your encounter with Theodore, but the interaction sticks with you. Every time you open up the play, you’re reminded of it and your curiosity returns tenfold. 

It’s odd being at school when it’s this empty. You’ve managed to occupy yourself by playing Wizard’s Chess with some fifth years, helping Professor Flitwick organize his classroom and the Frog Choir’s practice room, and working on knitting gifts to give you friends when they return. 

You’re sitting in the Gryffindor common room, working on Harry’s scarf, when you spill a cup of tea one of the house elves had made for you. Cursing, you move your knitting out of the way and survey the damage to your sweatshirt. With a groan, you gather your things and bring them to your dorm, blotting out the growing stain with water and letting it dry over the edge of the bathtub. 

You slip into a forest green sweater and throw a brown corduroy jacket over it. You grab your copy of Romeo and Juliet and head down to the Black Lake. The cold breezes nip at your cheek and carries the scent of pine trees, which you inhale gratefully. You plop yourself underneath a tree on the shore of the lake, reclining against the trunk and cracking open the book.  

You’re not even a page in when you hear a familiar voice call your name. Your hold on your book tightens but you peer up, watching Theodore approach. He’s in a dark wool overcoat and similarly dark trousers, hands tucked into his coat pockets. His strides are leisurely and long, reaching you in only a handful of steps. 

He stands tall in front of you, shadow cast long in the afternoon sun. His gaze roams over you and he says, “Isn’t wearing green considered treacherous for you?”

You’re confused for a second before you follow his line of sight and glance down at your own sweater. Right. You reply, “No more than it would be for you to wear red.”

The corner of his lip twitches up in a small, half-smile and he says, “High treason then.”

You echo your words from earlier in the week: “Can I help you, Nott?”

He ignores your question, instead choosing to tip his chin at your book. “What part are you at?”

“Mercutio’s died in his duel with Tybalt.”

He nods and recites, “‘A plague o’ both your houses. They have made worms’ meat of me: I have it, and soundly too: your houses.’”

You don’t bother to hide your surprise. “You’ve read it?”

“Haven’t most people?”

“Sure, most people know the story but they don’t usually read it. 

“I’ve read it a couple of times,” he admits. He adds, “My mother’s favorite book.”

“I see. Is that why you want to borrow it from me?”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls between the pair of you. Distantly, there’s a cry of crows. Theodore is still standing above you, gazing down, and you squirm a little. He then says, “I always liked Benvolio.”

You’re reminded that Theodore’s half-Italian in the way he says ‘Benvolio,’ accent smooth and lilting. It suddenly feels a little too warm under your coat but you ignore it. You instead blurt out, “Of course you would. You’re kind of like him.” 

Theodore raises one eyebrow and you feel your face heat even more, embarrassed, and you hope he doesn’t take it as a bad thing. He doesn’t seem offended though and asks, “Oh, how so?”

“I mean,” you say, “you are— well, you seem like the most reasonable of your friends. A mediator of some sort.” 

“That sounds about right,” he says. “You remind me of Juliet.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You’re not sure if you should take it as a good thing or not.

“Well, she has a solid set of beliefs and stands up for them. She knows herself; she tells her parents that she doesn’t want to marry Paris, not just because she’s in love with Romeo but also because she knows she’ll be unhappy. What is it she says? ‘Now, by Saint Peter’s Church, and Peter too, he shall not make me there a joyful bride! I wonder at this haste, that I must wed ere he that should be husband comes to woo.’”

Theodore’s mouth lifts in a tiny, lopsided smile again and he says, “Plus, she’s the one most of the guys fawn over, right?”

You’re left to gape at him in shock and awe, processing what he just said as he turns and walks back to the castle along the shore, just outside the gentle lapping of the water. You watch his retreating figure, watch as he grows smaller and smaller and eventually disappears. 

You don’t get much reading done, the book remaining open in your lap and your eyes fixed on the spot where Theodore once stood.

You sit there until the top curve of the sun is just peeking out over the horizon and you stand, still a tad dazed, and make your long walk back to Hogwarts. 

It’s just past one in the morning and you can’t sleep, tossing and turning fitfully. Theodore Nott and his long shadow and his blue eyes keep appearing behind your eyelids, no matter how much you try to shove the thoughts out. You want to bang your head on one of the wooden poles holding up the canopy of your four-poster bed, but you opt for sliding on your slippers and going down to the kitchens to see if the house elves have any leftover brownies from dinner. Maybe they could warm up a mug of hot cocoa for you too.

You shuffle through the hallway, the chill of the castle waking you up. You rub your hands along your arms, wishing you had worn something over your pajamas. Since it’s break, restrictions about when and where students could go are essentially non-existent. You pass Filch, who scowls at you, clearly aggrieved that he can’t punish you for being out of bed, and Nearly-Headless Nick, who greets you cheerfully and questions you as to why you’re up at such a time. “Can’t sleep,” you explain. “I’m checking if the elves have any midnight snacks for me.”

He chuckles, “An excellent reason but don’t stay up too late, or you’ll wind up like me!” He laughs hard at his joke and you can’t help but giggle, bidding him a goodnight as you descend into the basement. 

You nearly run right into Theodore as you approach the kitchens. You jump at least a foot, clasping your hands over your chest. “Merlin’s beard, you scared me!”

“Could say the same for you,” he says. “Nice pajamas.”

You forgot you were in a tank top and shorts. You cross your arms and say, “You seem awfully fixated on my clothes, Nott.” You try to look as threatening as you can but the slight tremble to your body takes away any effect.

Theodore rolls his eyes and slides the robe he donned over his striped pajamas off, holding it out to you. When you don’t take it, he just throws it over your shoulders, the weight comfortable and warm. You say, “You keep popping up out of nowhere. Are you stalking me or something?”

He snorts, “You would never know if I was. But no, Mattheo’s snoring kept me up. I figured I should take advantage of my insomnia and grab some brownies from dessert.”

“Great minds think alike then,” you say. 

You and Theodore walk down the corridor towards the kitchen when he asks, “Have you finished the book?”

“No, didn’t get a lot of reading done after you left.”

“Did I distract you that much?” He looks smug, smirking, and it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“In your dreams.”

“Yeah,” he says. “When do you think you’ll finish?”

“Bloody hell, you’re impatient,” you groan, rubbing your temples. You’re not sure what possesses you, if it’s your sleep-deprived brain or something else but you suggest, “How about this? You grab brownies and cocoa for us and I’ll get the damn book and we’ll meet in the Clock Tower and read it together.”

Theodore considers it for a moment before he says, “Alright. I’ll meet you there in fifteen.”

“Perfect.” You scurry back to the Gryffindor dorms. Nearly-Headless Nick queries as to where your snacks are but you don’t answer, moving swiftly. You enter your dorm room, only pausing for a moment to catch your breath. Your heart is pounding but you can’t tell if it’s from the journey or from the thought of sitting alone in the Clock Tower with Theodore Nott. You don’t let yourself dwell on it and you pick up Romeo and Juliet and climb the stairs to the Clock Tower. 

Theodore has beaten you there, already sitting up against the glass of the clock. The frost on the glass obstructs some of the moonbeams streaming in but it’s just enough light to read. In the moonlight, Theodore’s hair looks lighter and more burnt golden than brown. He takes a sip of his cocoa and holds out a ceramic mug to you as you settle next to him. You accept it gratefully, plucking a brownie from the plate between you two. 

You flip through the play to find where you left off, the page dog-earred. Theodore makes a sound at the back of his throat. “What?”

“Don’t you have a bookmark or something?”

“No. Leave my marking choices out of it.”

He snickers and leans over you to get a better look at the text. Your shoulders brush and you’re all too aware that he smells of chocolate and sandalwood. His smell is clean and distinct; his robe smells like that too. 

As you two begin to read, Theodore tells you to turn back or move forward. You eventually figure out a rhythm, knowing exactly when to do so. You’re about ten minutes into reading when you feel Theodore’s gaze on you. You remain still, wondering if he’ll stop but when he doesn’t you mumble, “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Staring.” “Does it bother you?”

“It feels like you can see into my soul.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Does it bother you?”

You pause. “I don’t… I don’t know.” A beat. “Why are you?”

“Why am I what?”

“Staring at me.”

His voice drops, somehow deeper than you have ever heard it. “Because I like to.”

Your head whips to him but no words leave your mouth. He regards you carefully and asks again, “Does that bother you?”

You hesitate. Then, “No, it doesn’t.”

He hums and you think he’ll do… something but he just ducks his head back down to read and you let out of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, disappointment pooling in your stomach. You don’t know what you wanted him to do. You don’t know why you’re disappointed. 

You two read until your eyes grow heavy. You struggle to keep your lids open, head jolting up when you realize you’re drifting off. Theodore taps your shoulder and says, “We can stop here. Pick up another time.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, standing and stretching. You stifle a yawn and remember you have his robe on. You begin to take it off but he says, “Keep it. You can give it back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. Same time, same place?”

“Okay.”

It doesn’t take you long to finish the play with Theodore only two days later. You noticed that Theodore read slower than before, telling you multiple times per session to go back a couple of pages. 

Your eyes follow the last line: For never was a story of more woe / Than this of Juliet and her Romeo, and you close the book with a dull thump. You sit in silence with Theodore, listening to the clock hand turn to the next minute. You stay like that for a while. You sip on the spiced hot chocolate the house elves prepared for you. You share sugar cookies with Theodore that are shaped like snowflakes. 

“So,” you start, breaking the silence, “this is your mother’s favorite book?”

He nods. “I think she read it a lot when her parents arranged for her to marry my father.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say, adding lamely, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Silence. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you stay here over break?”

He stiffens, expression unreadable. He glances over at you and finally sighs. “My father’s trial is happening right around now. My family doesn’t want any of the kids around this so…” He motions to the Clock Tower, adding, “My siblings are either at their own schools or with my grandmother.”

Your heart aches at the frown on his face and you bite the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to proceed. You’re thankful when Theodore moves on. “What about you?”

“Oh, my parents are on a sight-seeing cruise so they’re not home. I got a postcard today, though, they’re in Japan now.”

“I’ve never been. How’s it look?”

“Pretty. They said their tour guide told them the best time to come is when the cherry blossoms bloom. I would like to go.”

“We’ll go together then.” 

He says it with a finality that makes you shy. “When?” is all you can ask. 

“Someday.”

You haven’t seen Theodore in a couple of days, an odd thing to try and get used to when you’ve just adjusted to him popping up wherever you are. You assume that he’s done with you now that you finished Romeo and Juliet. 

It all makes your heart sink.

You’re alone in the common room, wrapping up your gifts for your friends. You stack Harry’s scarf on top of Hermione’s mittens, Ron’s socks, and Ginny’s hat, and you lean against the couch with a huff. 

You think about the spare red yarn sitting in your room. You think there’s just enough to make another scarf. 

Theodore’s face flashes in your mind’s eye and you run a hand down your face in frustration. Whatever weird thing you had with Theodore is over. He’s probably out with Mattheo at the Three Broomsticks or something. You’ve seen them there before along with Enzo, Blaise, Draco, and Pansy as well as just with each other, usually flirting with girls there.

You didn’t used to think much of it — just scoffed along with Ron and Hermione — but now the thought makes your stomach churn. 

You think about the extra yarn in your room again and you almost can’t believe that, despite his disappearing act, you’ve decided you’ll knit a scarf for Theodore Nott.

Almost.

You’re greeted with a delicious Sunday roast for dinner on Christmas Eve: tender roasted beef, warm Yorkshire puddings, fluffy mashed potatoes, and a side of jus from the beef. You sit by yourself once again, the loneliness threatening to swallow you whole as you plate your dinner. 

Theodore seats himself right across from you and places a parcel wrapped in brown paper in front of you. You look at it in confusion and he says, “Open it.”

“What is it?”

“Christmas present.”

You raise a brow. “You got me a present?”

“Yes, now open it.”

“Shouldn’t I wait until tom—” The sharp look he gives you makes you set your fork aside and tug on the string of the bow. There are two books inside. The first is a copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, similarly leather-bound like Romeo and Juliet, and the second one is an ornately-decorated collector’s edition of Romeo and Juliet. 

Your jaw falls open and you whisper, “Theodore…”

He says, “Figured that we can read Macbeth together. It’s a personal favorite of mine.”

Your fingers trace the golden embossment of Romeo and Juliet, swooping down to follow the curve of the ‘J.’ “Where did you even get this?”

“Sent a lot of letters and had Mattheo help me pull strings at Flourish and Blotts.”

Your face is on fire but you grin at Theodore and say, “Thank you so much.”

“Happy Christmas,” he says and you catch the pink at the tips of his ears.

“I actually have something for you too,” you say and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I’ll get it to you after dinner.”

“I’ll come with,” he says and you nod. You wonder if he’ll get up but he stays put, taking a plate and serving himself dinner. 

You two talk quietly in between bites and something dawns on you halfway through. “Where’s Mattheo?” You look over your shoulder and can’t find the other Slytherin boy.

Theodore smirks. “Might’ve slipped him a couple of galleons to leave us alone.” Your cheeks heat pleasantly. 

You two finish dinner after that and Theodore walks you to the Fat Lady’s portrait. She eyes him suspiciously, glaring at you. “You know students from other Houses aren’t permitted in the Gryffindor dorm.”

You disregard her and give her the password. Begrudgingly and with one last glower at you and Theodore, the portrait swings open and you step inside. Theodore peers around the common room and says, “Never been in here before.”

“Some Gryffindor girl hasn’t taken you back with her?” you ask but you instantly regret your teasing words. The thought of Theodore with someone else (Lavender Brown comes to mind and you scowl internally) makes you queasy.

“Can’t say that it’s happened,” he says, shooting you a cocky smirk. “You’d be the first.”

“I’m honored. Wait right here.”

Theodore flops on the couch and sighs in satisfaction. “So much more comfortable than Slytherin’s.”

“Yeah?” you ask as you retreat up the stairs. He shouts after you that Slytherin’s couches, while not wholly terrible, are stiff whereas your common room’s are plush and cushy.

Theodore’s scarf, knit in a red cashmere, lays innocuously on your bed. You’re abruptly self-conscious of it; Theodore got you two beautiful and likely expensive books and you knit him a measly scarf in colors that aren’t his House’s. 

Merlin, you think, what if he hates it?  Only one way to find out, you suppose. With a deep breath, you pick it up and hide it behind your back. You peek into the common room, where Theodore lounges on the couch, his figure long and relaxed. His shirt has ridden up a little and you spy a sliver of the toned muscle of his stomach. 

“Close your eyes,” you say. You watch his eyes shut, unfairly long lashes brushing his cheekbone. You creep into the room, halting in front of him. The flames dancing in the fireplace are the only excuse you can come up with for why you’re so warm. “Hold out your hands.”

He sits up straight and does as he’s told. You say, “It’s not wrapped.”

“That’s alright.”

You inhale, exhale, and gingerly place the scarf in his hands. He opens his eyes and inspects the scarf, rubbing the knit yarn in between his fingers. You hold your breath.

His face breaks into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him. He looks—

He looks beautiful. He’s always handsome, yes, but he’s beautiful here.

“This is really nice. You make it yourself?”

You hum in affirmation and he loops it around his neck, standing and spinning around playfully. “How do I look?”

“I think red’s definitely your color,” you tell him, your own cheeks hurting from how widely you’re beaming. 

Theodore takes a step closer, his shoes nearly knocking into yours. The glee in his expression morphs slowly into something different. It’s not anything bad, but it’s somehow more intense and softer than before. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome. Thank you again for the books.”

“You’re welcome.”

The fireplace crackles, embers spitting.

You’re not sure who moves first. Your mouths crash against each other like waves against a bluff, all lips and teeth and tongue. Your hands are everywhere, in his hair, clutching his shoulders, cupping his face. His hands are just as frantic, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing you tight against him. 

You two come up for air but you don’t surface for long. Despite the way he’s worked up, he’s careful in unwinding the scarf from his neck and draping it over a nearby arm chair. Then, he’s on you again, pulling you flush against him. 

He guides you to his lap as he sits back on the couch, lips never leaving yours. You straddle his thighs, tugging lighty at his curls. He moans into your mouth. Your hips move against his. His fingers, long and cold, creep under your shirt and send a shiver down your spine. 

His mouth only leaves yours to latch onto your neck, sucking and licking and nipping. You whine and push yourself against him harder, your hands clumsily trying to undo the buttons of his shirt. He helps you, flinging it off his shoulders, and pulling your own off your torso. 

“Fuck,” he groans, chest heaving as he takes in the view of you. He’s staring at you like you’re some sort of goddess. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, amorina.”

You melt under his gaze. His ocean blue eyes are a little glazed and his mouth is kiss-swollen and ajar. Godric, he’s one to talk. You lean in closer, tracing his jaw and letting your hand trail down his neck, his chest, down to his stomach. You graze the top of his trousers and lightly scrap your nails over the skin just above. He hisses, hips bucking, and before you can say anything to him, he’s yanking you down for a kiss. 

It’s slower, no less passionate but less frenzied, and you only break apart to whisper, “Bedroom, Nott.” 

He doesn’t say another word, springing from the couch, grabbing the scarf you made him, and dragging you up to your dorm. As soon as he’s inside, he sets the scarf on your bedside table and pushes you down onto the mattress, climbing on after you. 

You squeal as he peppers kisses along your neck. “Theo,” he murmurs against the skin of your collarbone. “Call me Theo.”

“Okay,” you say, testing it out. “Theo.” His hips slot against yours once more and you cant your up. He slips a hand down your pants and when he presses his palm against you, you whine, “Theo!”

Another rumbling moan, “Amorina, you don’t know what you do to me.” Another long, hard kiss. Your hands move to unbutton his trousers. 

You don’t care how sweaty and sticky you are as you lay panting against Theo’s chest, feeling the way it rises and falls in rapid succession. You listen to his racing heartbeat and he places a sweet kiss to the top of your head. 

As you two catch your breath, Theo says, “I think Juliet should have gone with Benvolio.”

You look at him like he’s crazy. “That’s really what you’re thinking about?”

He winks at you. “Of course not. I’ve been thinking about it since we finished the book.”

You slap his chest playfully and ask the obvious question: “Why do you think so?” 

“Well, you said I’m like Benvolio and I told you you remind me of Juliet.”

“Huh?” You think for a couple of seconds and then it clicks. “Oh!” You take in Theo’s half-lidded eyes staring at you. “Oh…” 

He dips down to kiss you again.

Over the break, you’ve expanded on what you know about Theodore Nott. One, he’s quiet because he’s thoughtful, always observing, always analyzing, and storing away information for whatever purpose he’d like to use it for. 

Two, he’s whip-sharp — you see it in the way he can quote Shakespeare plays like second-nature; in how he easily banters with you, always coming back with a swift reply and a cheeky smile. 

Lastly, he’s unbelievably handsome. You knew this before but it’s different now. You admire the way he holds himself with an unflagging confidence, how he has these rare full-bellied laughs that make you crave the sound. But you think he’s most handsome when you sit together, cloistered away in the Clock Tower, reading Romeo and Juliet and now Macbeth together. You’re so close, you can smell the peppermint on his breath from the candy canes the house elves snuck you. You can see all the shades of blue in his eyes. You can count the beauty marks on his face. 

This close, you can lean over and kiss him and delight in the way your heart thrums when he reciprocates, cradling your face and coaxing you into him. 

You spend the majority of the rest of the break wrapped up in Theo’s arms. By the last day, you’re sure you have snuck each other into your dorms more times than either of you can count. You hang out a few times with Mattheo, who turns out to be not as bad as your friends make him out to be. He’s sharp and quick-witted like Theo with a tendency towards the dramatics that makes you laugh. 

You’re sitting at the same spot underneath the tree at the Black Lake, Theo relaxing between your legs. He’s swaddled in the same black overcoat you saw him in before, only this time, the red scarf you knit is starkly bright against the coat. You card your fingers through his soft curls, ducking to peck his forehead. He tilts his head upwards and smiles boyishly at you and it makes you giggle, planting a kiss on his mouth. He brings your hand down to his lips, kissing each fingertip.

You relish the quiet with him, knowing that tomorrow will be a flurry of activity with students and faculty returning from winter holiday. It makes you sigh, the thought of leaving the little world you and Theo have created. Your relationship is only a couple of days old and you can’t deny that you’re anxious about your friends coming back. 

As if sensing your nervousness, Theo sits up and spins around to face you. You attempt to plaster on a reassuring smile but it’s wobbly and uneasy. He cradles your face with one hand, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “What’s wrong, cara mia?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble. He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow with an expression that tells you he knows you’re lying. “What are we going to do when everyone comes back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Theo, our friends all despise each other.”

He replies, “So? Just because they don’t like each other doesn’t mean we can’t.” He kisses the back of your hand. “And I happen to like you very much.”

You smile weakly at him. “I know, and I like you very much as well. It’s just…” You can picture the dawning horror on Ron’s face and the grimaces on Hermione and Harry’s. 

Theo’s mouth turns downward and he asks, “Why do you care what they think?”

“Don’t you care what your friends think?”

“No,” he says firmly, adding, “Plus, Mattheo likes you so who’s to say everyone else won’t?”

“Theo…”

He repeats, “Why do you care?”

“I just don’t want anything to ruin this, ruin us.”

“They can only ruin it if we let them and we won’t.”

“You don’t know that for sure! We’re still in the early stages of our relationship.”

“Do you not have faith that we’ll stay together?” he asks.

“I do! It’s—” You sigh in frustration, brow furrowed. “I just want to preserve what we have without outside influence. Please, can we just wait a little to tell everyone?”

You wish you didn’t see the way Theo’s expression falters, hurt passing across briefly before he wipes it away.  He’s studying your face, eyes dark and unreadable but he nods. “Fine. But you have to promise me that it’s just for a little while.”

“I promise.”

“Alright. I’ll tell Mattheo not to open his big mouth.”

“Thank you, Theo,” you say. This time, you reach for his hand and peck his knuckles. His shoulders lose their tension and he bends towards you, mouth ghosting against your neck. You squeal and giggle and you feel him smile against your skin.

author's note: at long last, the theo nott fic i teased months ago... this fic was supposed to be a lot longer but i when i went back to college and hit a major writer's block, it just languished. i'm proud of what i've written, which is why i want to post it, but please excuse the kind of abrupt end. there is a potential continuation in the future <3

[megalony]

Daughter In Distress

This is a new protective! dad! Tommy Kinard imagine for you all, I hope you'll like it. Please let me know what you think.

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Tommy Kinard Masterlist

Summary: A simple day of going to the park and playing basketball goes horribly wrong when someone tries to take Tommy and (Y/n)'s daughter.

Enjoy.

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"You're late."

A grin broke out on Tommy's face as he walked up the path towards the basketball court. He slung his backpack down from his shoulder and placed it on the bench next to Eddie and Buck who were stood at the side of the court.

His eyes cast down to the watch on his wrist before he looked back up at them.

"By three minutes, that's more or less on time." Tommy countered while he looked around.

Chimney was stood to one side on the phone and the rest of the team were hovering about starting warm ups and making jokes. Tommy wasn't exactly late when it looked like the rest of them had only just arrived.

He hadn't been to last week's basketball game since he had been on shift and so had Eddie and Chimney. But they were all off for this week's game.

"You're still the last one to arrive." Eddie quipped while he felt Buck loop an arm around his shoulders and he felt a kiss against the back of his head.

"I walked (Y/n) and the squad down to the park on my way over, I'll have you know."

Tilting his head back, Tommy lifted his arms above his head and clicked his spine and his neck into place. He had worn his light grey sleeveless hoodie and a pair of aqua blue shorts. The sun was beaming down on them today and Tommy could feel himself sweating already and they hadn't even started the game yet.

"Hm, we'll let you off then. Come on." Buck inclined his head towards the court and turned round, clapping his hands in the air.

Tommy had walked down here with (Y/n), their three kids, and Chris who had stayed over with them last night. Since it was a nice day they had decided to go to the park while all the boys went to their basketball game. There was a park two minutes down the road from the court right along the beach front.

He stretched his arms above his head and followed his brother in law over onto the court where everyone was starting to set up and get ready.

"Okay, here we go."

A smile lit up (Y/n)'s face as she crouched down in front of the push chair and reached forward for her youngest. Billy had been asleep the whole walk here but he was finally starting to wake up and come alive now, just in time to play on the swings.

(Y/n) unclipped him from the pram and picked up him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek before she settled him on her hip and stood up. The one year old tucked his face into her chest, yawning around the pacifier between his lips.

Her fingers carded through his wild curls and she kissed the top of his head before she turned to the left towards Blake.

"Why can't I play with dad and uncle Eddie?" He kicked his shoe against the gravel and looked down for a moment before he looked back up at (Y/n) with those big doe eyes that matched Tommy so well.

"It's firefighters only, baby."

"Dad's a pilot."

"He's still a firefighter. Baby you're too young to play with all of them, you'd get knocked down, especially with uncle Buck playing. Wait until the weekend, dad will take you for a smaller game."

It wouldn't be fair for Blake to try and join in when it was a game for adults, they could easily bash into him or knock him down and break a bone. And Tommy wouldn't be the nicest to be around if that happened. Nor could Blake sit and watch because he would get annoyed that he couldn't join in and he would be distracting.

Tommy had promised to take him and Chris for a milder version of basketball at the weekend with Eddie and Buck. He said Bonnie could join in too, but he had a feeling she wouldn't want to play.

"What're you going on then?" (Y/n) moved the pushchair near the metal fence that surrounded the park and placed her bag over her shoulder, just to keep it safe.

"Climbing wall."

Blake headed off across the soft tarmac, hearing his mum call "Be careful," as he headed to the rock climbing wall that led up to a large metal slide.

Tilting her head, (Y/n) looked over towards the mini roundabout where Chris and Bonnie had filtered over to. Chris was slowly kicking his foot out to turn the roundabout while Bonnie sat on the rainbow bench and clapped her hands giddily.

They had all enjoyed their sleepover together and (Y/n) had a funny feeling that Chris would ask if he could stay over again tonight. Something neither (Y/n) or Tommy would object to since all the kids were well behaved when they were together and Chris was never a bother to have round. It gave Eddie and Buck a bit more time to themselves where they could go out or just watch a movie together and spend some time alone.

(Y/n) kept her eyes on the other three kids while she headed to the baby swing and gently eased Billy down into the seat. He immediately patted his hands down against the plastic bar in front of him and started to kick his legs. Babbling happily as the pacifier dropped and hung round his tummy since it was clipped to his top.

"Here we go, baby." She began slowly pushing him back and forth, kissing his head every time he swayed back towards her.

They would likely spend a good forty minutes here and then they would head back to the basketball court and watch the last of Tommy's game.

She kept an eye on the kids, watching Chris and Bonnie switch from the roundabout to the second set of swings just across from the slide. Where Blake was doing a repeated motion of climbing the wall and shooting down the slide, trying to see how fast he could climb.

After a while, (Y/n) lifted Billy from the swing and set him down to his feet, staying close as he plodded in front of her. He wasn't the best at walking yet, he kicked his legs out straight rather than bending his knees, but he was surprisingly fast.

She followed him over to the smaller, plastic climbing frame that was more for toddlers and more his height.

"Wanna go down the slide?" Blake jogged over to them and held his hand out for his younger brother, grinning widely when Billy took his hand.

He lifted Billy up the steps and guided him over to the slide, sitting the toddler between his legs so they could go down the slide together. The sight made (Y/n) smile and she snapped a quick photo, noticing just how much both boys seemed to resemble Tommy in lots of little ways. From how their eyes creased when they smiled to the way their noses crinkled when they laughed.

"What park did dad get stuck on the slide?" Blake tilted his head to the side, looking over at (Y/n) quizzically while she made sure Chris and Bonnie were okay on the zipline in the corner.

She looked back at her boys and grinned, thinking hard about what her nine year old was referring to.

"Oh, that was on the other side of town, near uncle Eddie's place."

Blake would have only been about four. They had just had Bonnie and when they went to the park, Blake wanted someone to go down the slide with him. Needless to say, they didn't go back to that park often after Tommy had a hard time getting down and then getting off the slide.

He hadn't been pleased when (Y/n) snapped a picture of him struggling, rather than trying to help him up. She still had that photo hung proudly in a frame near the top of the stairs at home. Showing her husband's large frame crammed into a small plastic slide with Blake giggling between his legs.

(Y/n) folded her arms over her chest and watched the boys go down the slide another two times before Blake started playing hide and seek with Billy. The toddler started to squeal, slamming his feet down as he trotted around the bottom of the slide.

Leaning back, (Y/n) looked across at the zipline but her smile morphed into a frown when she couldn't see Chris or Bonnie there anymore.

Where had they gone to now?

She held her hand out towards Billy and leaned down to take his hand, guiding him with her while she nodded for Blake to follow them.

Her eyes cast around the park, looking between the other parents and the few kids scattered around running from swing to swing with glee. What were Chris and Bonnie up to? Where had they disappeared to? (Y/n) liked to keep them within her sights in case they wandered and tried to talk to strangers or ended up falling off of something and hurting themselves.

Chris was an accident prone and Bonnie was a drifter living in a daydream. It wasn't the best combination without parental supervision.

"Where's Bonnie?" (Y/n) gave a tug on Billy's hand and smiled as he looked around as if he could find her any quicker.

"(Y/n)!"

A shiver crawled down (Y/n)'s spine at the shrill way her nephew screamed her name.

She spun on her heels and looked around, unsure where Chris's voice was coming from until she finally spotted a familiar crop of brown curls near the climbing frame. As quick as anything, (Y/n) leaned down and scooped Billy up from the floor and headed off in a sprint, Blake right at her side, neither of them sure what was happening.

The panic (Y/n) felt seemed to flicker off in all directions, sparking different thoughts and questions.

She could see Chris, he was down on his knees beside the metal fence that surrounded the perimeter of the park. He was three inches away from the gate which was hanging open, the hinges creaking awfully and grating through (Y/n)'s ears when she got closer.

And there was Bonnie, laid on the floor just in front of the gate.

"What happened?" (Y/n) turned and stood Billy in front of Blake who reached down and held him by the shoulders so the toddler wouldn't try and wander off. The boys stood a few feet to the left, still close enough for Blake to reach out and hold his mum's shoulder if he felt the need.

He watched his mum go down on her knees in front of them, looking between Chris and Bonnie. Waiting for anyone to give her an explanation while other people started to turn to see what was going on.

(Y/n) could feel her heart hammering away in her chest and all the blood seemed to fizzle out of her hands and feet and flood her chest and stomach instead. Adrenaline fueled through her abdomen and made butterflies crawl up her chest when Bonnie howled.

The five year old pushed up from where she was lying on the floor and immediately crawled onto her mother's lap. She bound her arms around (Y/n)'s waist and burrowed her face into her stomach, sobbing so loudly and sharply that (Y/n) felt as if she was the one screaming instead of her daughter.

"Baby what's the matter, did you fall?"

Leaning down, she pressed her lips against the top of Bonnie's head and curled her arms around her. But she didn't like the way her daughter was trembling against her.

"T-the man…"

"What? What man?"

When she didn't get a response from either of them, (Y/n) leaned over and gripped Bonnie beneath her arms. She hoisted her up and moved her so she was sat on her knees. (Y/n) kept one hand on Bonnie's waist and the other started to rub up and down her back.

The little girl was taking shallow, bubbling breaths, mixing between crying and screaming which was starting to put (Y/n) on edge.

"Chris, what's happened?" She could see she wasn't going to get much out of Bonnie right now.

But when she looked over her nephew, she realised Chris looked very shaken. He was knelt up on the floor but he was holding his arms very close to his sides and his head was hung down. His eyes were flitting from side to side, unsure what to focus on or where to look and he was subtly shaking.

"A man, he asked Bonnie to go with him, out the park." Chris pointed at the gate that was starting to slow down from swaying back and forth on old rusted hinges.

(Y/n)'s head snapped up and she looked around, but she couldn't see any man close by. The only people outside of the playground was an older couple walking their dog and a young mother with two children headed down the path towards the park. Whoever the man was, he had clearly left in a hurry which made (Y/n) suddenly feel worse.

"I said no, a-and he pulled my hair." Bonnie lifted her head and moved a shaking hand to the right side of her head.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body when she realised there was a small scratch of blood on the side of Bonnie's head.

Her hands reached out and cupped her daughter's face, tilting her head down so she could look at her properly but it felt like ice cold spikes were cutting through (Y/n)'s chest. There were at least three scratches along Bonnie's temple that went up into her hairline. The two plats (Y/n) had braided into her hair were now coming loose and looked obscure like Bonnie had been dragged through a bush.

Whoever it was had tried to grab her by her hair to make her leave. He had scratched her head and pulled on her hair so harshly a few strands had come loose.

Someone had tried to kidnap her daughter.

"What happened to your hand?" (Y/n) asked quietly when she noticed Bonnie's left hand was starting to swell. When she reached out to try and touch it, Bonnie pulled back with a howl and cradled her hand to her chest.

"She trapped it in the gate, w-when the man grabbed her hair." Chris shuffled closer into (Y/n)'s side and leaned his cheek on her arm, too afraid to look up and see the panic and anger flood his auntie's face. He looped a hand around her arm that was now trembling and cuddled up close. "We said no… I tried to stop him."

Tears rolled down (Y/n)'s face before she could stop them. She pressed her lips together so tightly her upper lip started to cut against her teeth and she swiped her hand across her face, wiping away the tears.

She looked down at Chris and managed to kiss the top of his head, cupping his cheek.

"Thank you."

The man might have tried harder if Bonnie was alone. Having Chris next to her and both of them saying no clearly unsettled him and he couldn't drag a screaming child from the park without someone noticing.

He had fled. (Y/n) wasn't sure if that was such a good thing or not. He had gone, he wasn't going to terrorise her children any longer. But now they had no chance of finding him. He could try again. He could try and take another child. He could see Bonnie in the street or in a different park and try his luck. He might get her if he tried again.

Each breath (Y/n) tried to take hitched higher and higher until she was barely breathing at all and her sight was fading into tunnel vision.

Her arms bound around Bonnie and she attached her daughter to her chest, holding her with one arm while her other arm looped around Chris. She stood to her feet, tugging Chris with her while Blake stepped closer with Billy who was none the wiser to what was going on.

"Mum?"

"We're leaving." Cold tremors rattled through (Y/n) as she deadlocked Chris's hand in hers and watched Blake closely as he picked Billy up so they could move faster.

"Are we going back to dad?" Blake whispered, unsure whether he was okay to talk or whether his mum was on a mission and was going to go mute in her state of panic.

"Yes. Stay close, Chris hold the pushchair for me, you stay right next to me." (Y/n) was grateful that Blake clipped Billy into the chair so she didn't have to set Bonnie down.

She looped her bag over the pushchair handle and moved Chris's hand to the handle so he was clinging to the chair. She kept Bonnie sat on her left hip, despite the ache it caused to be carrying her daughter around. She wasn't putting her down. Not for a second.

Her right hand grabbed the chair and she had Chris tucked up against her right hip and Blake holding her left elbow for peace of mind for them both. They made a brisk walk to the other gate and bolted, walking as fast as they could down the path towards the promenade.

It was a five minute walk along the sea front down to the basketball court where all the boys would be.

Chris wanted both his dads and Blake and Bonnie wanted their dad. (Y/n) wanted her husband.

She didn't know what to do.

This had never happened before. None of the kids had ever been hurt or almost kidnapped like this. It was a lucky escape that the stranger hadn't run off with Bonnie and that she hadn't gotten hurt more than this.

What would (Y/n) have done if someone managed to take her daughter or God forbid, Chris as well?

(Y/n) had taken the kids out millions of times on her own. She took them to the beach and the aquarium and the parks and down to the zoo. She took them places on her own and she felt confident enough to do that because she was a good mother and kept an eye on them all. Nothing had ever happened whilst she'd been looking after Chris and her kids before.

Was this why (Y/n) always felt safer when Tommy came with them?

It was no secret that no one gave them a second look when Tommy was with them. He was like an omen. Over six foot tall with a broad muscular frame and an expression that no one wanted to mess with. He was an omen of protection just with his looks.

Would that man have tried to take Bonnie if Tommy had been down here with them? Of course he wouldn't. Tommy was a threat, he was built and muscular and could give anyone a run for their money in a chase. If Tommy had been in the park with them he would have frightened anyone off the thought of trying to snatch a child from the park.

(Y/n) felt Blake lean his head on her arm and move closer to her side, suddenly mute and afraid as he felt as small as a mouse. His boysterous, outgoing personality died down immediately and he tried not to shake as the three of them were almost running down the promenade to reach the basketball court.

Someone had tried to snatch his sister. What would his mum have done if they succeeded? Would the police have come down and done a search and rescue for her? Would they have found her? What would happen in their family if they didn't get Bonnie back?

Would they still have to talk to the police even though Bonnie hadn't been taken?

(Y/n) could feel tears briskly falling down her face as she hurried ahead. Her left arm was starting to ache from carrying Bonnie who was clinging to her neck so tightly (Y/n) could barely catch a proper breath. And her heels were starting to dig into (Y/n)'s lower back, but she couldn't find the will to care. Her daughter needed to feel safe and (Y/n) needed to assure herself that none of her children had been snatched today.

She felt Blake leaning into her left side and Chris had one hand around the pram and the other was gripping her elbow as he tried to stay as close to her as possible.

"Chris-" (Y/n) took a deep breath and sighed when Chris let go of her once the court was within reach.

He let go of the pram and set of into a wobbling sprint, aiming for both dads who were cheering on the edge of the court, clearly having won a basket for their team.

Buck noticed him first. He happened to look to the left and a grin broke out on his face despite the way he was panting for air. He lowered his arms down and patted Eddie's shoulder before he jogged off the court.

"Hey, look who it is."

He smiled right until Chris barrelled into him. Once Buck felt the way Chris started to shake against him and burrowed his face into his abdomen, his smile faded. He could feel the unease radiating off his son and he just knew something wasn't right. He should have been cheering and goading his dads to win the game. Normally he would have been laughing and taunting them playfully.

He wouldn't have run right onto the court like this and hugged the life out of Buck unless something was wrong.

"Buddy, what's the matter?" When Chris held him tighter, Buck pressed his lips into a frown and carefully held him by the shoulders. He loosened Chris's grip on him so he could crouch down in front of him but as soon as they were level, Chris was clinging to him again.

His arms looped around Buck's neck and he burrowed his face into his neck until his glasses were digging uncomfortably into Buck's skin. Not that he minded at all. He curved his arm around Chris's waist and softly held the back of his neck.

It took all of his effort to hold his breath for five seconds to slow down his heart rate. He couldn't start panicking when he didn't even know what was wrong, but the protective nature within Buck was already rising to the surface.

"Talk to me, are you okay?"

Confusion plastered across Eddie's face as he held his hand out towards Chimney and shook his head, silently pausing the game. He tossed the ball into the middle of the court and heaved to regain his breath back while he walked towards his partner.

He rested a hand on Buck's shoulder and looked between the boys before he looked up and locked his eyes on his sister.

She was crying. (Y/n) had tears streaming down her face and Bonnie in her arms who was quietly sniffling and gasping. Blake was tucked against her side, looking down at the floor like he was too afraid to lift his head and look at any of them. The only one who seemed unaffected was little Billy in his pushchair.

"What happened?" Eddie reached his arm out towards (Y/n), but Blake moved forward and burrowed into his side instead.

"Stay with uncle Eddie, do not move I mean it." The panic was evident in (Y/n)'s broken voice.

She placed the pushchair a foot in front of the boys just on the edge of the court. Well within reach so Billy was safe and she gave her eldest a pointed look so he wouldn't leave the safety of his uncles. She couldn't have anything happening to the boys as well.

Her hand moved to cradle the back of Bonnie's head that she started to kiss and when Blake nodded, (Y/n) briskly walked over towards Tommy.

He was scratching the back of his neck, one hand on his hip as he tried to take deep breaths. But when his eyes scanned over his family, he didn't know what to do. Something was evidently wrong. They had been separated for less than an hour, what had gone wrong in that time frame?

"Honey, what's the matter?" Tommy reached out and curved his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist, reeling her into his chest while his right hand held her shoulder.

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his chin down into his chest to look down at her properly, but his breath caught in his throat when he realised she was shaking. He could see traces of tears streaked down her face and when his eyes locked on their daughter in (Y/n)'s arms, Tommy realised she was sobbing.

"Are you all okay, did something happen at the park?"

"A man tried to take Bonnie." (Y/n)'s voice shuddered and came out breathless as a shiver tore down her spine and seeped into Tommy's body.

His muscles went rigid and he tensed up in front of her, gripping her waist tighter as something dark crossed his eyes. His head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed while his lips quirked as if he wanted to smile in utter confusion. Who would do that? Why would they do that? Why would someone choose Bonnie out of all the kids that could have been on that park?

"Take her? What does that mean, what'd he do? Who the Hell was he?"

"Chris said no, a-and they tried to walk away… babe, he grabbed her by her hair, look at her head. He almost tore her hair out to drag her with him."

As swiftly as anything, Tommy was crouching down in front of them. His hands moved to cup Bonnie's face and his thumbs gently brushed across her cheeks while he tilted her head in his direction. A sorrowful smile tugged at his lips when his daughter's watering eyes locked on him and a little mewl left her lips that made Tommy's heart shatter into pieces.

He took note of the scratches on her scalp, how her plaits were ruffled and loose and skewed. How some of her hair was in knots and the spots on her scalp that showed some strands had been roughly torn from her head.

"She trapped her hand in the gate too. I didn't know what to do, if he came back or if he sees her again, I-"

"No, no he won't see her again, it's okay. We're going home."

Shivers tore down (Y/n)'s spine when Tommy's hands moved back to her shoulders. He pulled them both close and pressed his lips to the top of her head and (Y/n) could feel each violent, ragged breath he took.

Tommy looked back down between them when he suddenly felt Bonnie's hand grabbing at his shoulder. Her nails scratched into his skin and she pawed at him, whimpering until he obliged and reached down to take her from (Y/n)'s arms.

"Daddy…" Tears spilled down her face and a quiet sob broke past her lips when she was in his arms.

Tommy leaned his cheek on top of Bonnie's head, holding her as close to his chest as he could manage while his hand ran up and down her back and he smothered his lips against her shoulder.

All the noises around them faded out into static and all Tommy could hear was Bonnie quietly whimpering his name over and over. He closed his eyes and tilted his chest back, letting her lean into him while he felt (Y/n)'s hand ghost up and down his back. None of the voices from the others on the court managed to get through the static in his ears. He couldn't hear them asking what was wrong or hear Eddie comforting Blake, telling him everything was okay.

The only thing he could hear was his daughter in distress and it made his blood boil over.

Why her? Why had someone decide to terrorise Tommy's little girl? Tommy's wife, his sons. His family. Why?

"Shh, alright, it's alright sweetheart. I've got you, your safe."

He kept her secured in his left arm so he could wrap his other arm around (Y/n)'s waist and reel her into his side. They slowly headed over to where Buck and Eddie were stood with the boys.

Buck was sat on the edge of the bench with one arm around Blake and his other hand on the pram, gently nudging it back and forth to try and send Billy off to sleep. And Eddie was next to him with Chris in his arms who had gone quiet after telling his dads what had happened.

Tommy's eyes locked with Buck when he spoke, venom and malice flooding his eyes. "Can you call Athena?"

They needed to make a statement. They needed the kids to describe who had done this so they could try and catch him. Tommy wouldn't let him get away with this.

***

Panic surged through Tommy's chest and his eyes snapped open, coursing through the darkness to try and find out what had woken him.

He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs and his pulse flooded every inch of his skin while he gasped to catch his breath back. One of the few downsides to the job meant Tommy startled easily, especially when he was sleeping. After some of the things he had seen, nightmares were a constant and he was so used to listening out for sounds that he had become a very light sleeper.

His hands planted down into the mattress and he pushed to sit up, taking in the darkness surrounding him while he tried to look around.

He glanced to the right and looked across at (Y/n) as she stirred and reached out to curl her hand around his arm, unsure why they were both suddenly awake.

But then he heard it. Bonnie's cry that pierced his heart and sent his nerves sparking and igniting.

"Bonnie."

Tommy tossed the cover to one side and got to his feet before (Y/n) had the chance to sit up. He shook his head to try and wake himself up a bit more while his hands stretched out and grabbed the door, using it as leverage to push himself forward and move faster.

He turned left and opened Bonnie's bedroom door, squinting for a moment at the illuminescent rose pink nightlight that lit up one corner of the room. It was a dark pink flower attached to the wall above Bonnie's bed since she was so easily frightened by the dark.

"Baby, baby what's the matter?" He sped into the room and plonked down on the side of her bed, feeling his heart breaking when he looked down at her.

He couldn't see her. Bonnie was curled up in the centre of the bed with the blankets wrapped tightly around her from head to toe, covering her completely to the point she was going to suffocate.

Tommy tried to be gentle, murmuring a soft "It's only me, it's just daddy," while he pulled the covers back so he could see her and make sure she could actually breathe. A jagged edge cut through his heart when he looked down at her. Arms over her head, knees pressed into her stomach, her whole body shaking like she had hypothermia.

Wordlessly, he reached down and scooped her up so he could settle her down on his lap.

Her arms stayed bound around her chest while she burrowed her face into his chest. The shaking started to subside once Tommy curled his arms around her and leaned down to smother his lips against the top of her head.

"Bad dream?" He asked quietly, nuzzling his nose into her hair to tickle her while he started to sway back and forth, shifting his weight from his heels to his toes.

"I saw the bad man… my head hurts, daddy."

Tommy tilted his chin down into his neck and leaned back a little so he could cradle the side of Bonnie's face in his hand. His thumb brushed beneath her eye, swiping away a tear while he studied the scratches over her temple. Her scalp had started to bruise beneath her hairline but luckily it wasn't properly visible.

He wasn't so sure it hurt her now though unless she was touching it. Tommy found it more likely that she was dreaming and remembering the panic and the pain from four days ago. She was reliving it more than she was actually in any pain.

"I know baby, but you're okay now. You're safe, I won't let the bad man hurt you, I promise." He peppered her temple with kisses to show her that she was okay and to kiss away the pain to calm her down.

With one arm around her back, Tommy used the other to shuffle into the centre of the bed he prayed would take his weight. He laid down until his ankles and feet were hanging off the end of the bed and Bonnie's weight was comfortingly weighing down on his chest. Her head tucked beneath his chin and she looped her arms over his broad chest, feeling his hand smooth up and down her back while he dragged a blanket across them both.

"See? No one's gonna hurt you because I'm here with you."

A repetition of 'you're okay' and 'I'm not going anywhere' passed Tommy's lips on a loop while he smoothed his hand up and down her back to lull her back to sleep.

It took a while, but after about twenty minutes, Tommy felt Bonnie's snuffling breaths start to even out and her hands stopped gripping his shoulders, finally. She went limp on his chest and snuggled down into him, relaxing while he continued to rub her back.

Every time Tommy shifted, even if it was just his hip moving, the bed creaked and groaned and he could feel his back starting to ache, but he didn't care. If it calmed his daughter down and made her feel safe, then it was worth it.

But anger started to swell through his chest and set in his stomach like stones weighing him down. His daughter shouldn't be waking up during the night, frightened that someone was going to come back and hurt her. She shouldn't be frightened to the point that she wasn't allowing either (Y/n) or Tommy out of her sight.

She hadn't been back to school this week and Tommy dreaded to think how they were going to get her back when she was too frightened to be alone without one of her parents by her side.

The five year old didn't want to leave the house and that infuriated Tommy to no end. She was petrified all because someone thought he had the right to try and snatch her and scare her like this.

Moving his hands, Tommy cradled the back of her head and pressed his other palm down on her lower back so he could twist to the right.

He tried to carefully ease Bonnie down onto the bed and trade places with her so he could get up off the bed.

It looked to be working, right until Tommy let his hands slip from her frame and he stood up from the bed. Once he was no longer holding her, Bonnie started to shake. Her knees coiled up, her eyes started to flutter and whimpers bubbled past her lips until she was sobbing again.

"No, daddy d-don't go!"

All she had to do was stretch her arms out and make grabbing fists in his direction and Tommy was a goner. He crouched down beside the bed, all resolve fading away and his heart aching with a sense of longing and protection he had never felt before.

"Okay, okay baby I'm not leaving you, I promise." He swaddled the blanket around her and scooped her up from the bed, cradling her back into his chest again. His fingers were woven into her hair and his lips pressed to her temple while he stood up and turned around.

"Where we going?"

"You can come sleep with me and mummy. You'll be safe, now let's go get some sleep." If she needed Tommy to stay with her that was absolutely fine, but he wanted to be back in his own bed. Where he could stretch out and be back with (Y/n) and where the three of them could get some sleep without Tommy fretting one wrong turn would break the bed or have him falling onto the floor.

But for the past two nights, Bonnie had crept into their bed anyway after a bad dream and woken up with them in the morning. She wasn't sleeping properly, she didn't want to leave the house and she was too afraid to even sit in her room on her own.

Tommy didn't know how else to show her that she was safe and protected, that they weren't going to let anything happen to her.

He needed to show Bonnie that he was going to protect her at all costs.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Little Dove

Quinn Hughes X Pregnant! Reader

a;n it took me forever to finish this chapter, but I think I'm finally back in my groove. I can't wait for you guys to read I've been so excited to put out more fics.

Warnings: pregnancy, arguing, toxic family, suggestive wording lol, anxiety

masterlist link / previous chapters

summary: Y/N's world is turned upside down when she suspects she might be pregnant. Consumed by fear and uncertainty, she takes a pregnancy test but can't bring herself to face the result. She throws the test away and seeks solace in a hot shower, trying to escape the relentless thoughts plaguing her mind.

word count - 4629

...

Y/N stood before the imposing black door, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to gather the courage to face what lay beyond the wooden door. The sleek, polished surface seemed to mock her, its very presence a reminder of the power her parents held over her life.

The stone wall surrounding the entrance loomed above her, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out and grab at her, pulling her towards the inevitable confrontation.

She inhaled deeply, the cool evening air filling her lungs and doing little to calm the storm of emotions that raged within her. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to turn around, to run back to the safety of the car and drive away, leaving behind the suffocating expectations and demands of her family.

With a trembling hand, Y/N reached out and grasped the golden handle, the cold metal biting into her palm. The sensation was almost a relief, a sharp contrast to the burning anxiety that coursed through her veins. She squeezed the handle tightly, as if the physical act could somehow give her the strength she so desperately needed.

"Come on," Quinn urged softly, his voice a gentle whisper in her ear. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back, a comforting presence that seemed to anchor her in the midst of her thoughts. His touch sent shivers down her spine, a reminder of the love and support that he offered her unconditionally.

At her silence, Quinn pressed harder, his fingers kneading the tense muscles of her back. "It won't go as bad as you think it will. I'll be with you the whole time, honey."

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to draw strength from his words. But the unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach refused to be silenced. "I know, Quinn," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart.

"It's just... I have a really bad feeling right now. They've never wanted to meet any of my boyfriends, let alone invite them for family dinner. Something about it feels so wrong."

Quinn's hands continued to move along her back, his touch a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "How about this," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "How ‘bout we play perfect couple with your parents, and then after all of our pain and suffering, we head back home, and I give you one of the Quinn special massages.”

As he spoke, Quinn's hands inched higher, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her spine before coming to rest on the smooth skin of her shoulders. Y/N couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he massaged a particularly tense spot, the sensation causing her head to fall back against his shoulder. “You can relax and let me take care of things."

"Sound good?" Quinn asked, his voice low and full of promise.

Y/N allowed herself a small smile, the first genuine one she'd felt all evening. "That sounds amazing," she breathed, her body already beginning to relax under his expert touch.

Quinn pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away. "Let's go before they get suspicious, hmm?"

With a final squeeze of her hand, Quinn stepped forward and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the stillness of the night. Y/N took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and preparing herself for the awkward silence and judgmental stares. She knew that with Quinn by her side, she could face anything her parents threw at her.

As Quinn gently pushed Y/N forward, taking the lead and opening the door, they were greeted by an eerie silence that seemed to permeate the house. The absence of voices, the usual bustle of family life, was unnerving, and Y/N felt a chill run down her spine. The only sound that pierced the stillness was the high-pitched, excited barking of the family dog, Cinnamon.

From the shadows, a blur of fur came charging towards them, a ball of energy and enthusiasm that seemed to light up the dimly lit entrance. Y/N couldn't help but let out a squeal of delight as she knelt down, her arms outstretched to catch the wriggling bundle of joy.

"Hi, Cinnamon baby," she cooed, her voice filled with affection as the small dog eagerly licked at her face, its tail wagging furiously. For a moment, all of Y/N's worries and fears melted away, replaced by the pure, unconditional love that radiated from the tiny creature in her arms.

Quinn watched the scene with a smile, his heart warming at the sight of Y/N's happiness. Her laughter, so rare in the face of her family's expectations, was like music to his ears. He chuckled softly as Cinnamon hopped off Y/N's lap and made a beeline for his own legs, her tiny paws clawing at the fabric of his neatly pressed suit pants.

"Hello there," Quinn said, his voice soft and gentle as he leaned down to pat the dog's head. Cinnamon's fur was soft beneath his fingers, and he marveled at the way such a small creature could bring so much joy and comfort to those around it.

But the moment of levity was short-lived, as a voice suddenly spoke from the opposite side of the room, shattering the brief respite from the tension that hung heavy in the air.

"Sorry for the interruption, Miss Y/N," the voice said, its tone formal and detached. "Your parents are ready for you. Please follow me."

Y/N felt her stomach drop at the words, the bitterness and unease settling back into her stomach. She glanced at Quinn, her eyes wide and filled with a silent plea for strength. He gave her a reassuring nod, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Together, they followed the worker, their footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor. There was something ominous in the air, a sense of foreboding that seemed to grow with every step they took. But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the warmth of Quinn's hand in hers, the strength that flowed between them.

…

Y/N stepped through the sliding door, her heart racing with anticipation and nervousness, she was immediately greeted by the sight of her mother rising from her seat at the table.

Dedra's movements were graceful and measured, her posture perfect and her expression carefully composed. Y/N could feel her father's piercing gaze on her and Quinn, his eyes narrowing as he silently assessed the young man by her side.

Despite the palpable tension in the room, Quinn maintained a charming smile, his demeanor confident and unflappable. He strode towards Derek's seat at the head of the table, his hand outstretched in a gesture of greeting. "Mr. L/N, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, his voice smooth and polished. "I've heard so much about you."

Derek regarded Quinn for a moment, his expression unreadable, before accepting the handshake with a firm grip. "Quinn," he acknowledged, his tone cool and measured. "Welcome to our home."

Y/N quickly guided Quinn to the seat beside her, her fingers lacing with his under the table in a silent show of support. She could feel the weight of her parents' scrutiny, the unspoken questions and judgments hanging heavy in the air.

Dedra, ever the perfect hostess, smiled warmly at the assembled group, her face a mask of polite interest. "Let's begin, shall we?" she said, clapping her hands together. At her signal, a team of immaculately dressed servers emerged from the kitchen, bearing trays laden with an array of sumptuous dishes.

As the servers efficiently set the table, Dedra settled back into her seat, her dress clinging to her figure like a second skin. The chandelier above cast a dazzling light across the room, its crystals refracting and casting shimmering patterns on the walls.

Y/N couldn't help but marvel at her mother's impeccable appearance, the way she seemed to effortlessly command attention and admiration.

But the illusion of perfection was shattered a moment later, as Dedra fixed Y/N with a critical gaze, her lips curving into a small, condescending smile. "Well, you've gotten fat," she remarked, her voice dripping with false concern as she raised a delicate flute of champagne to her lips.

"You know, the past few weeks, your cheeks have seemed to get chubbier. Are you skipping out on that yoga class I recommended?"

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face, her stomach twisting with a mixture of shock and humiliation. She glanced at Quinn, her eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for his support. Quinn's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he fought to maintain his composure.

Clearing her throat, Y/N forced a smile onto her face, her voice trembling slightly as she replied, "I've been focusing on my career, Mom. The yoga class hasn't been a top priority."

Dedra tutted softly, shaking her head in disapproval. "Darling, you know how important it is to maintain your appearance. You don't want to let yourself go, do you? What will people think?"

Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She could feel Quinn's hand tighten around hers, a silent promise of support and protection. But even his comforting presence couldn't erase the sting of her mother's words, the way they cut straight to the heart of her deepest insecurities.

…

As the servers cleared away the first course, Derek turned his attention to Quinn, his eyes narrowing slightly as he appraised the young man. "So, Quinn," he began, his voice deceptively casual, "I hear you're a hockey player. For the Vancouver Canucks, is that right?"

Quinn nodded, his expression confident and self-assured. "Yes, sir. I've been with the team for a few years now. It's been an incredible experience, both on and off the ice."

Derek leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "And what exactly do you do for the team? Are you a starter, or do you mostly warm the bench?"

Y/N bristled at her father's tone, the barely concealed disdain dripping from his words. But Quinn seemed unfazed, his smile never wavering as he replied, "I'm a forward, sir. I play on the first line and contribute regularly to the team's success."

Dedra chimed in, her voice saccharine sweet. "That must keep you very busy, Quinn. Do you have any time for hobbies or interests outside of hockey?"

Quinn chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course. I believe in maintaining a balanced lifestyle. When I'm not on the ice or training, I enjoy volunteering at local youth centers, mentoring kids who come from tough backgrounds. I also have a passion for photography and love exploring the city with my camera."

Y/N felt a swell of pride at Quinn's words, the way he spoke with such conviction and sincerity. She knew how much his volunteer work meant to him, how he used his platform as a professional athlete to make a real difference in the lives of others.

But her father seemed unimpressed, his mouth twisting into a sardonic smile. "Photography and volunteering? How... quaint. And I suppose these activities are what brought you and Y/N together?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her palms growing clammy as she anticipated Quinn's response. They had agreed to keep the details of their relationship private, to avoid giving her parents any ammunition to use against them.

Quinn, however, remained unruffled. "Actually, sir, Y/N and I met through a mutual friend. We connected over our shared love of art and culture, and things progressed naturally from there. We've been seeing each other for almost a year now, and I can honestly say that she's one of the most incredible women I've ever met."

Y/N's cheeks flushed at Quinn's words, a warm glow spreading through her chest. But her happiness was short-lived, as her father's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with barely contained anger.

"A few months?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "And you didn't think to inform us of this development, Y/N? Your mother and I have a right to know about the people you associate with, especially when they're..." he trailed off, his lip curling in distaste as he glanced at Quinn.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She opened her mouth to respond, to defend herself and Quinn, but the words stuck in her throat, trapped behind the lump of fear and anxiety.

Quinn, sensing her distress, reached under the table and took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers in a silent show of support. "With all due respect, sir," he said, his voice calm and measured.

"Y/N is an adult, capable of making her own decisions. Our relationship is built on mutual trust, respect, and love. I understand your concerns as her parents, but I assure you that my intentions towards your daughter are nothing but honorable."

Derek scoffed, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. "Honorable intentions? From a professional athlete? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken accusations and barely contained hostility. Y/N's hands clenched into fists beneath the table, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to contain the rage that boiled within her.

She had endured her father's snide comments and thinly veiled insults all evening, biting her tongue and forcing herself to maintain a facade of civility. But as Derek's words dripped with venom, his contempt for Quinn and their relationship laid bare, something inside her snapped.

"Enough!" she shouted, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "I will not sit here and listen to you disrespect the man I love, the man who has shown me more kindness and support than you ever have!"

Derek's eyes widened in shock, his face reddening with anger. "How dare you speak to me like that, young lady? I am your father, and you will show me the respect I deserve!"

Y/N laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and grating in the tense silence of the room. "Respect? You want to talk about respect? Where was your respect when you belittled my dreams, when you dismissed my accomplishments as nothing more than frivolous whims? Where was your respect when you tried to control every aspect of my life, molding me into your perfect little puppet?"

Dedra gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in a gesture of feigned shock. "Y/N, please, let's not do this here. We have a guest."

Y/N's gaze snapped to her mother, her eyes blazing with a fury that bordered on hatred. "Oh, spare me the theatrics, Mother. You're just as bad as he is, always pushing me to fit into your narrow little world, to be the perfect daughter you can parade around like a goddamn show pony."

Quinn reached for Y/N's hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Y/N, baby, it's okay. We don't have to do this."

But Y/N shook her head, her jaw set with determination. "No, Quinn, it's not okay. I'm done letting them dictate my life, done letting them treat me like some kind of possession they can control."

Derek slammed his hand down on the table, the dishes rattling with the force of his anger. "That's enough, Y/N! I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect in my own home. If you insist on continuing this relationship with this... this hockey player, then you can consider yourself cut off. No more trust fund, no more fancy apartment, no more cushy job at the family company. You'll have to live off your precious Quinn's salary and see how far that gets you."

Y/N stared at her father in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest. She had always known that her parents' love was conditional, that their support came with strings attached. But to hear it laid out so plainly, to know that they would cast her aside so easily, was a blow that left her reeling.

Slowly, she rose from her chair, her legs trembling beneath her. "Fine," she said, her voice low and steely. "Cut me off. Disown me. Do whatever the fuck you want. But know this: I will never, ever forgive you for this. You may be my parents by blood, but you are not my family. Quinn is my family, and I choose him, now and always."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, her head held high and her heart shattered into a million pieces. Quinn followed close behind, his hand resting on the small of her back.

they stepped out into the cool night air, Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her entire body shaking with the force of her emotions. Quinn pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she sobbed against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt.

"I've got you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "I've always got you. No matter what happens, we'll face it together. You and me against the world, remember?"

…

Y/N stood motionless in the bathroom, the white tile floor cold and unyielding beneath her bare feet. The room was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where she could escape the chaotic thoughts that swirled through her mind like a relentless whirlwind.

The pale blue walls, once a source of calm and tranquility, now felt oppressive, as if they were closing in on her, trapping her in a prison of her own making.

The air was thick with the scent of lavender and vanilla, the candles she had lit earlier in a futile attempt to soothe her frayed nerves. But even the familiar, comforting aroma couldn't ease the tension that coiled within her, the knots of anxiety that twisted her stomach and made her heart race with a sickening pace.

Her gaze was drawn to the vanity, its white marble surface cluttered with the detritus of her daily life. Makeup brushes and half-empty bottles of lotion jostled for space with hair ties and stray earrings, a chaotic jumble that mirrored the turmoil within her own mind.

And there, amidst the disorder, sat the small, unassuming box that held the key to her fate, the answer to the question that had haunted her for weeks.

With hands that trembled like leaves in a storm, Y/N reached for the box, her fingers clumsy and uncoordinated as she tore at the plastic wrap. The pregnancy test felt heavy in her palm, a tiny stick of plastic that held the power to change her life forever. She stared at it for a long moment, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to summon the courage to take the next step.

y/n had bought the pregnancy test on a whim, a nagging suspicion in the back of her mind that refused to be silenced. She had always taken pride in her appearance, in the way she maintained her figure through rigorous exercise and a carefully controlled diet. But lately, no matter how much she pushed herself at the gym or how little she ate, the numbers on the scale continued to climb.

She thought back to the dinner with her parents, to the cruel words her mother had hurled at her like poisoned darts. Fat. Lazy. Worthless. The insults had cut deep, leaving invisible scars that ached with every breath. And now, with each passing day, those scars seemed to grow, festering like open wounds that refused to heal.

And then there were the other symptoms, the ones she had tried so hard to ignore. The sudden bouts of tearfulness that overtook her at the most inconvenient moments, leaving her sobbing in the grocery store aisle or curled up on the couch in the middle of the day. The strange cravings that hit her out of nowhere, leaving her ravenous for foods she had never even liked before.

With a deep breath, Y/N tore open the box, her hands shaking as she removed the small, plastic stick from its packaging. She read the instructions carefully, her heart pounding in her chest as she followed the steps, her mind racing with a thousand different scenarios, each more terrifying than the last.

Y/N's mind raced with a thousand different scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. What if she was pregnant? What would Quinn say? Would he be happy, or would he see it as a burden, a trap that would tie him down and ruin his promising career? And what about her own dreams, the hopes and aspirations she had clung to like a lifeline in the face of her family's suffocating expectations?

She felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over her, and she gripped the edge of the vanity for support, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grasp.

The room seemed to spin around her, the walls and floor blurring together in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and light. She closed her eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths as she tried to regain her composure.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N opened her eyes, her gaze falling once more on the pregnancy test that lay on the counter, its display window facing downward. She knew that she couldn't put it off any longer, that she had to face the truth, no matter how painful it might be. With a trembling hand, she reached for the test, her heart pounding in her ears like a drum.

But at the last moment, she faltered, her courage failing her. Instead of looking at the result, she tossed the test into the trash can, burying it beneath a pile of crumpled tissues and discarded cotton balls. She couldn't bear to see the truth, couldn't face the reality of what it might mean for her future.

The sound of the shower called to her then, the steam billowing out from behind the glass doors like a siren's song. Y/N stripped off her clothes mechanically, her mind numb with fear and confusion. As she stepped under the spray, the hot water hit her skin like a thousand tiny needles, the pain a welcome distraction from the chaos that raged within her.

She let the water wash over her, her eyes closed as she tried to lose herself in the sensation. The heat seeped into her bones, melting away the tension that had coiled within her like a snake ready to strike. She breathed in the damp, misty air, the scent of her lavender shampoo mingling with the steam in a heady, intoxicating aroma.

Behind her, the pregnancy test lay abandoned in the trash can, its display window hidden from view. Y/N had thrown it away without even looking at the result, too afraid of what it might reveal. She knew that she would have to face the truth eventually, that she couldn't hide from reality forever.  

in this moment, alone in the bathroom with nothing but the sound of the water and the pounding of her own heart, Y/N allowed herself to be still, to exist in a world where the future was still unwritten, and anything was possible.

She clung to that fleeting sense of peace like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft, knowing that it was all she had left to keep her afloat in the stormy seas of her own mind.

…

Quinn turned the key in the lock, the soft click echoing through the stillness of the house. He pushed the door open, the familiar scent of home washing over him like a comforting balm. The living room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the streetlamps outside the windows.

He set his bag down by the door, the heavy thud of it hitting the floor breaking the silence. His shoes came off next, the laces loosened and the soles kicked off with a careless ease. He padded across the carpet in his socks, his footsteps muffled by the thick, plush fibers.

The house was quiet, almost eerily so. Quinn listened for any sign of Y/N, any hint of her presence, but he was met with only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a car passing by on the street outside. He wasn't surprised by the silence, given the late hour of his arrival. Y/N was likely already in bed, lost in the sweet oblivion of sleep.

Quinn made his way down the hallway, his steps heavy with exhaustion. The bathroom door was ajar, the soft glow of the nightlight spilling out into the darkness. He pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly as he stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was the damp carpet beneath his feet, the fibers squishing slightly with each step. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at Y/N's characteristic forgetfulness. She always seemed to leave a trail of water behind her after her showers, a small quirk that he found strangely endearing.

Quinn reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. The cool air of the bathroom hit his bare skin, sending a slight shiver down his spine. He tossed the shirt into the hamper, the fabric landing with a soft thud amidst the pile of dirty clothes.

He turned on the shower, the water sputtering to life and filling the room with a soft, steady hiss. As he waited for the water to heat up, Quinn's gaze drifted around the small space, taking in the familiar surroundings.

The white tile gleamed in the soft light, the grout lines perfectly straight and clean. The mirror above the sink was slightly fogged, the edges blurred with condensation.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, Quinn caught a glint of something shiny, a flash of light that seemed out of place in the muted tones of the bathroom. He furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued by the strange reflection.

He scanned the room, his eyes searching for the source of the light. And then he saw it, a small, foil-wrapped object nestled in the bottom of the trash can. His heart skipped a beat, a sudden sense of unease washing over him like a cold wave.

Quinn crept closer to the trash can, his steps slow and cautious. He peered down into the empty bin, his eyes widening as he recognized the shape of the object within. It was a pregnancy test, the plastic stick lying stark and white against the dark plastic of the can.

With trembling fingers, Quinn reached into the trash, grasping the test by its hilt. He lifted it out of the can, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned it over, the display window facing upward.

The moment of truth, the answer to the question that had been weighing on his mind ever since he had noticed Y/N's strange behavior over the past few weeks. The late-night tears, the unexplained mood swings, the way she seemed to retreat into herself, lost in a world of her own thoughts and fears.

Quinn stared at the test, his eyes tracing the lines that appeared in the small window. And then, with a sudden, sickening clarity, he saw it. Two lines, bold and unmistakable against the white background.

Positive. Y/N was pregnant.

Quinn felt the world tilt beneath his feet, his mind reeling with the implications of what he had just discovered. He leaned against the sink, his knuckles white as he gripped the cool porcelain. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his lungs burning with the effort of drawing in air.

…

Tag List <3

@ru-kru, @bunbunbl0gs, @hischierswhore, @alwaysclassyeagle, @shawnshoney, @fearfam69691, @fulla02, @njdkatie, @dancerbailey3. @jamieeboulos, @ceces-obsessions

[elia-the-bibliophile]

Karma's a B*tch (Carlos Sainz Jr. x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 709

Carlos Sainz Jr. finds himself at the mercy of his Gen Z girlfriend, Y/N, who loves to play pranks on him.

Carlos had just returned home from cycling, his hair still damp and his knees feeling like jelly. He walked into their cozy apartment in Monaco, the familiar scent of home instantly putting him at ease. The apartment was warmly lit, with soft golden lights casting a serene glow over the modern furnishings. The windows were open, allowing a gentle evening breeze to waft through, bringing with it the faint scent of the nearby Mediterranean Sea.

He spotted Y/N lounging on the couch in the living room, sipping an Aperol Spritz. She was comfortably nestled among plush cushions, her feet propped up on the coffee table. She looked up and smiled at him, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes that he missed.

“Hey, bella,” Carlos greeted, dropping his gear bag by the door and kicking off his shoes . “How's your evening going?”

Y/N took another sip of her drink and set the glass down, her expression shifting to one of feigned seriousness. “Carlos, I need to tell you something.”

His brow furrowed as he walked over, sitting beside her. “What is it? Did something happen?”

She took a deep breath, her tone grave. “I was a bad girl, I did some bad things. I swear I did it all for fun and it meant nothing.”

Carlos blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “Eh? What are you talking about?”

Y/N continued, her face a perfect mask of sincerity. “I was a wild child, you always knew it. It was a matter of time before I blew it.”

Carlos's eyes widened, panic starting to set in. “Wait, what? What exactly happened? Why are you telling me this just now?”

She put a hand to her chest, looking remorseful. “Thou shall not lie, thou shall not cheat. Thou shall not get caught or you'll end up just like me.”

Carlos's mouth fell open, his mind spiraling. “Y/N, this doesn't make any sense! What did you do? Are you in trouble?”

She sighed dramatically, her expression serious. “Karma's a bitch, I should've known better.”

Carlos got up and started pacing, his voice rising with anxiety. “Karma? Are the police involved? Do we need a lawyer? Talk to me, mi amor!”

Y/N struggled to keep a straight face but soldiered on, her acting impeccable. “Carlos, please. I didn’t think it through. It was just... a matter of time.”

Carlos's panic escalated. “A matter of time for what? Are we being blackmailed? Did you run over someone?”

Finally, Y/N couldn't hold back any longer. She burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly spilling her drink. “Carlos, mi querido, I'm pranking you! It's the lyrics to a Jojo Siwa song. It's trending right now.”

Carlos froze, his face a mix of relief and bewilderment. “Wait, what?”

Y/N was doubled over, tears streaming down her face. “Your face! I can't believe you fell for it!”

Carlos let out a deep sigh, finally laughing along. “I thought you had done something terrible! Jojo Siwa? Who even is that?”

Y/N wiped away her tears, still giggling. “You were ready to call a lawyer! I couldn't have asked for a better reaction.”

Carlos shook his head, still chuckling. “I can't believe I didn't catch on sooner. But seriously, you had me so worried.”

Y/N grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Just keeping you on your toes. You need to know these things to stay hip, you know?”

Carlos wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “I'm an old man, Y/N. I can't keep up with you and all the Gen Z trends.”

Y/N smirked, raising her glass in a mock toast. “To keeping you young and entertained, then. Here's to many more pranks.”

Carlos laughed, clinking his imaginary glass with hers. “Just go easy on me next time, okay? I don’t think my heart can take much more of this.”

Y/N snuggled into his side, her laughter subsiding into contented smiles. “Deal. But no promises.”

Carlos sighed contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you love me for it,” she replied, a satisfied grin spreading across her face.

He smiled down at her, feeling the warmth of her laughter still lingering in the air. “Yes, yes I do.”

[janeyseymour]

Far From Home

for @jeridandridge

Summary: you're far away from home when you meet another Phillie's fan.

WC: ~3k

It’s just Melissa’s luck that her flight would get cancelled because of a hurricane sweeping over the Atlantic at this very moment. After a near brawl with one of the attendants because she insisted that it’s safe to fly (and it very much is not safe to fly), the redhead finds herself lugging her carry-on over to the restaurant bar with a huff.

“Whiskey, neat,” she sighs as she hands her card over to the bartender. “Please.”

“Flight get delayed?”

“Canceled,” she huffs. “They said they’d put me on the next flight out to Philly.”

“You’re a long way from home,” the bartender states softly. “Why you come all the way out here?”

“To Italy?” Melissa chuckles softly. “Because it’s Italy… and I was visiting my nonna.”

“So then why are you in such a rush to get back?”

“My baseball team is playing, and I have real nice tickets for tomorrow’s game,” the redhead explains. “Damn… they’re playing right now too. Any chance you get American sports to play over here?”

The bartender shakes his head. “But if you got an iPhone and can pull it up on there, I can cast it to the television so you can at least watch on the big screen while you figure everything else out.”

Melissa looks impressed and pulls out her phone. After a bit of work, the Phillies game is up on the screen, and the redhead is cheering along for her team with a beer now in hand.

Your flight from Italy back to the States was canceled. Of course it was. After a more than disastrous trip to Italy with your now ex-girlfriend, all you want to do is be in your apartment and curled up in your bed with a tub of ice cream and a glass of wine in hand. But now… you’re sitting in a restaurant bar while you wait for confirmation that the airline has put you on another flight home and seeing if they can put you up in a hotel for however long it will take to get back to Philly.

You have half a mind to go try to sleep off your exhaustion and anxiety, but something catches your eye. There’s a Phillies game on the big screen… in Italy? So, instead of finding a deserted corner, you sit down at the restaurant bar and pull out your phone. The bartender comes your way and pours you a drink when the Phillies are able to pull ahead of the Mets- the rival team.

“Hell yeah!” you raise your glass in the air with a smile. Schwarber was able to deliver again.

“You a Phillies fan?” the bartender chuckles.

“I bleed Philly,” you smile as your eyes stay trained on the screen. “Why do you even have this game playing? I didn’t think the Italians cared about baseball the way that Philadelphians do.”

“You aren’t the only Philadelphian in here,” he laughs as he points down towards the redhead at the other end of the bar, eyes also glued to the screen.

You cock your head to the side. “Wow.” She’s… really, really pretty. But you’re able to cover up that little gasp with the afterthought of, “Two Philadelphians in one little bar across the ocean.”

“She’s casting it from her phone right now,” the man tells you. Then he slides his way back down the bar to check on that beauty.

There’s something inside of you that wants to go over and talk to her- let her know that you think she’s beautiful. But… then you remember what you’re doing here. You just got dumped, and you don’t want to be that asshole who uses someone as a rebound. Especially not someone as stunning as her. So, you keep to your end of the bar while she keeps to hers. You don’t know it, but while you’re entranced by the screen and watching as Bryce Harper hits a ball that goes flying and Johan Rojas goes flying around the bases, she looks down to you, licking her lips subconsciously.

Your cheering at the screen as Rojas comes home and Harper slides into second pulls the redhead’s eyes from you and back onto the screen. Damn, she missed how that all went about.

She glances back in your direction, and your smile warms her heart. Deciding to take a leap of faith, she picks up her drink, gathers her bags, and makes her way down the bar.

“I missed what was happening,” you hear a voice. “Tell me what happened?”

“Rojas was on second, Schwarber and Realmuto struck out, and Harper hit a ball that found its way through. Rojas scored, Harper’s on second,” you recite the play, eyes still trained on the screen as Bohm tries to further the inning.

“Bohm’s gonna strike out,” the voice tells you.

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch,” the woman sighs. The truth is that she got the notification on her phone that he struck out and the inning was over.

She’s right, and as a commercial comes on, you finally turn. You don’t expect it to actually be that beautiful woman from the other end of the bar to be sitting next to you now, eyes watching you with wonder.

“Wow,” you whisper softly.

“What?” she asks you.

“I saw you from across the bar and thought you were pretty, but,” you cough awkwardly. “You’re more gorgeous than I thought.”

The woman smirks, and her eyes sparkle. She sticks out her hand for you to shake while saying, “Melissa.”

“Y/N,” you tell her as you shake her hand. “The bartender told me you’re the one casting the game right now?”

“I am,” she tells you. “Born and raised a Philly fan from South. You?”

You break out into a smile. “Born and raised in the ‘burbs of Philly, moved to Center City Philly a few years ago for work… I’ve been cheering for Philly teams since I could talk.”

“Yeah?” Melissa chuckles.

After a few taps on your phone, there’s video of you at the age of two dressed in an Eagles cheerleader outfit and singing the fight song playing.

The redhead next to you grins as she watches. When it’s finished, she hands you back your phone. “That’s fuckin’ precious.”

You blush. “It’s… definitely something.”

She goes to say more, but the Phillies broadcast comes back on, and you’re both taken to the screen. The two of you cheer together and boo the other team together as the game continues. 

In between innings, you chat and get to know Melissa more. You come to find that she’s a second and third grade teacher at a public school in center city- one that you pass by on your walk to work almost everyday. You find that she knows a lot of people. You also find that she’s somewhat of a legend when it comes to the casinos down in Atlantic City- as it turns out, she’s the ‘Red Hot’ that you hear people talking about as you would mill around the casino floor. But you also learn that her eyes sparkle when she talks about the things she’s passionate about. You discover that her laugh is a source of happiness for you. You’ve also learned that her smile is something that could light up Center City Philadelphia all on its own. She has you absolutely enchanted with her being.

It isn’t until the bottom of the ninth inning when you recognize the fact that she’s holding your hand in anticipation, and she has been holding your hand since… since the first full inning that you watched together. 

When it’s announced that the Phillies won, she’s jumping up out of her seat and hugging you tightly. You of course embrace her back with the same ferocity.

But now that the game is over, nothing is keeping her from sitting next to you. And you feel… disheartened by that? Upset that she’s probably going to leave and you’ll never see her again? You don’t know.

It doesn’t matter though, because she’s sitting back down on her barstool, taking your hand again, and sipping her beer. “So…”

The two of you continue to talk for hours. It isn’t until both of your phones ping that you look away from each other.

“Uh,” you sigh. “They put me up in a hotel room, so I guess I should head out.”

“Me too,” the redhead breathes quietly.

“I had a really nice time watching the game with you,” you tell her softly. “Like… it made me feel like I wasn’t stranded in the middle of another country without a way to get home for who knows how long.”

“Where did they put you up?”

You rattle off the name of the hotel, and her eyes light up. “That’s where I am too. Should we split a cab to get there?”

When you do get there, she checks herself in and then helps you check in. It’s a sweet gesture, and your rooms are next to each other as luck would have it.

“Would you want to come in?” she asks you as she unlocks her own door.

You smile. “Just give me a few to settle in, but then I’ll be over.”

Melissa and you spend the rest of the day together, walking around the little city that you find yourself in, picking up beer and wine, and then spending the rest of the time in her hotel room drinking and talking about everything. It’s not anything like what you expected being stuck in another country alone would be like. You’re not alone now though, Melissa is keeping you company. A small part of your mind wonders what your ex-girlfriend is doing… because she’s stuck in Italy now too- probably finding the first woman who was gay and throwing herself at her.

You’re in a tipsy haze as the two of you lounge on her bed watching whatever show in English you can find. And then… her lips are on your own. Oh god. She’s kissing you.

You pull away gently and sigh. “Melissa, I-”

“I read the situation wrong,” she says immediately and pulls away. “I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t read the situation wrong,” you promise her. “I just… fuck. I just broke up with my girlfriend, and as much as I am attracted to you, I don’t want to use you as a rebound.”

“Oh,” Melissa’s mouth forms into a small ‘O’. “Oh.”

“I don’t want to be the jackass who uses someone as beautiful and as sweet as yourself to rebound,” you say again. “I just… I’m not like that.”

She sits up just slightly. “I respect that. Thank you for… for not doing that.”

You just nod. “I suppose now that I made it awkward, I should see myself-”

“Stay,” the redhead tells you softly. “Just because we aren’t going to hook up doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your company- as a friend.”

You settle back down onto the bed.

That was two days ago. In the two days since that kiss, you’ve still spent all of your unexpected time in Italy with Melissa. She’s… if you weren’t in the situation you’re in, you would be all over her. Maybe… maybe once you get back to the states and a respectable amount of time has passed. But for now, the two of you are getting ready to get on the flight back to Philly.

You’re not sure what strings she pulled, but you’re seated next to each other for the nearly nine hour flight. The two of you are already seated when your ex-girlfriend passes by, arm linked with a very pretty girl. She sneers at you.

“That her?” Melissa asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Already moved onto the next.”

“You could do better,” the green eyed woman smirks. “And you’re a better person for not doing what she’s doing to me.”

In your own dozing state, you feel Melissa’s head drop down to your shoulder, and it brings you a small sense of happiness. You let her continue to rest that way until you know her neck is going to be paying for it if she sleeps that way any longer.

“Mel,” you shake her gently. “Mel, you gotta wake up, or your neck is going to be killing you when we land.”

She blearily opens her eyes and looks at you, confused. Right… she’s wearing earplugs and headphones and can’t hear you. You type out on your phone what you’re trying to convey, and she nods. ‘Thank you,’ she mouths. It’s only a few minutes later that you feel her head again, although this time she’s laying across the middle seat and has her head in your lap. You just smile to yourself as you close your eyes again, a hand draping itself gently over her hip.

The next time the two of you wake up, the flight attendant is looking at Melissa very unhappily. The seatbelt light had gone on while you were both asleep, and you were beginning the descent. With a frustrated huff, the redhead sits up and buckles her seatbelt.

Once the plane lands, all hell breaks loose as it always does what with everybody in a rush to get off the plane and home. And in the chaos, you lose sight of Melissa. You go to text her or call her before you realize that you never actually got her number. The time that the two of you spent together was constant, and there was no need to be able to contact each other over the phone when she was always right next to you. Exhausted and frustrated, you let out a groan.

Deciding that you should probably just get your belongings and try to hail a cab to head home, you make your way to the luggage carousel. You wait for what feels like forever- hoping that Melissa will make her way over to you. Only once you’re positive that there is no more luggage on that particular belt do you give up and go home. You don’t know that she’s doing the same thing on the other side of the loop. There’s a pole blocking your sight. 

You think about her on the Uber ride home, you think about her while you eat dinner, you think about her while you’re preparing for bed and when you’re crawling into bed. You dream of her. You can’t believe you were stupid enough to not get her number after spending three entire days with her.

Similarly, in a townhouse not too far from where you reside, Melissa is kicking herself. She knows that you’ve just broken up with your girlfriend- she knows that you don’t want to use her as a rebound. And somehow, she’s still mad that she didn’t get your number. She… she wouldn’t mind being your rebound, and she doesn’t have a doubt that it would turn into something more than just a rebound… if she had your number to contact you. She supposes what happens in Italy stays in Italy. 

On Monday morning, you still can’t get that redheaded beauty out of your head- you can’t even why you try to busy yourself with literally anything else. So… you take fate into your hands. You know she works at the school down the street from your office, so you take it upon yourself to call in late to work, explaining that you have a few personal things to take care of as you pull into the Abbott Elementary school parking lot.

You see her pull in, and after a quick glance at your appearance in the rearview mirror, you deem yourself put together enough to face again. You slide out of your car and call her name.

She looks… shocked. Her jaw drops open as she watches you step out of your car.

“Y/N?” she calls out.

You jog up to her car. “Listen, I know I’m probably coming off as a stalker right now, but 

I just… I couldn’t shake you from my thoughts as we lost each other in the airport. I wanted to call or text, but I didn’t have your number. And then I remembered you work here, and I literally work right down the road, and my boss is probably going to kill me for being late on my first day back in two weeks, but-”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either,” she cuts you off as she reaches for your hand.

You pull her into your arms gently before pressing your lips to hers. “Look, I’m… I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I knew I couldn’t let you go that easily, and I don’t want to be a jackass and use you as a rebound, but-”

“I’m here,” Melissa whispers to you as she pulls you back in for another kiss. “I’m here when you’re ready for whatever you think this might turn into. For now though, we can be friends… we can hang out like we did in Italy.”

“Yeah?”

The teacher smiles at you. “Of course. I actually have two tickets for tomorrow’s game if you wanted to come with me?”

“I thought you had tickets for the game while we were Italy?”

She shrugs. “I told you, I know a guy… I was able to contact him while we were there, and he just exchanged my tickets.”

You grin. “I would be delighted.”

Her smile matches yours. “Wonderful. If I could just get your number so we could arrange to meet tomorrow? And then I really do have to get into my classroom… prepping a science lesson.”

“Yeah, of course,” you fumble for your phone in your bag and hand it over. She texts herself with a smile.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” you ask hopefully.

She kisses your cheek. “For sure.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man 11

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: Steve talks shit. Paige and Eddie talk business.

5.2k words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10)

Working for Family Video came with many upsides, especially when you worked with people who you also enjoyed seeing outside of the store. Rentals were already dirt cheap with your employee discount, and near expired candy and popcorn never quite made it into the dumpster out back and somehow magically appeared in your bag instead at the end of your shift. 

You always liked to think that Family Video was sponsoring your bi-monthly movie nights with Steve and Robin. The Harrington household was always the meeting spot, as he was the only one who had a tv and VCR in his room. Well, you did as well now after Keith had tossed out an old player, saying it was broken. You’d brought it home to tinker with and found that some kid had stuck gum in the tape slot. It had taken you a week to clean and another month to figure out how to hook everything back up, but it was yours. Steve still had the nicer home and tv though, and more importantly his parents bought brand name snacks. 

The three of you were in Steve’s living room, the movie playing on the screen long forgotten as the three of you caught up with each other. Robin was usually the barometer for if a movie was worth watching, she and Steve might have had very different tastes, but Steve would usually get sucked up into whatever movie she chose. 

“So is his band any good?” Robin asked, dumping a bag of m&ms into her bowl of popcorn. 

“I think so.” you shrugged, cracking open a drink. “If anything, they’re good enough to be scouted twice.”

“By the same person.” Steve pointed out. “You know, his ex.” 

You had brought the news of Eddie’s meet up with Paige to your friends with mixed results. Robin seemed indifferent, but that’s because most of the time she didn’t have the same interest in talking about boys. Steve, however, seemed less than thrilled about this idea. 

“Yes, Steve, his ex. As in, not together anymore.” you sighed, wishing you felt as confident as you sounded. “Whatever happened between them sounded like it blew up for both of them.”

“But she still wants to have lunch with him!” Steve said. 

“Yes, to talk about the band!” you shot back. “And it’s lunch. Didn’t you tell me that dinner is a date and lunch is just two people hanging out?” 

“Since when does my advice apply to you or Eddie?”

“Since Paige isn’t me or Eddie, so your dating advice might actually apply here.” you snapped and took a breath. “Sorry. This is all new to me. I’m really not sure how I’m supposed to feel right now. It’s like every time things start to go well with me and Eddie, something happens. Paige, Chris, you-”

“Hey-”

“I like him a lot.” You leaned back against the couch, grabbing the popcorn bowl from Robin. “When I’m with him, I get that same feeling that I do when I’m hanging out with you two or when I’m at the show every month. I don’t feel like I’m hiding myself when he’s around.”

“There are other weirdos and freaks around.” Steve pointed out. “If I had known there were that many of you around, I would have agreed to go to the show earlier to help you get phone numbers.” 

“Yeah, but have you seen the way she looks when she’s talking about Eddie?” Robin hopped into the conversation. “I don’t think anyone even existed to her that night.”

It was true, no one other than your friends and (unfortunately) Chris had truly registered to you at the show. Yeah, you’d noticed the few cast members but they weren’t the metal head with the long hair and crop top that had held your hand all night.

“Oh shit, did I tell you guys that we ran into Chris?!” You asked suddenly, changing the subject. 

“Wait, that guy you and Eddie kept talking shit about?” Steve turned to look at you, grabbing a handful of popcorn and getting crumbs on the couch.

“Yeah!” you said. “He actually works for the show now, I guess? He said he’s been there for a while and he’s seen me at the show before. It was so fucking weird.”

“Is that the guy who said you were too normal to play with Hellfire?” Robin asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, and he ran Hellfire into the ground until Eddie took over. And now he’s doing tech for the show. Also, he was Rocky in the shadow cast.”

“The guy in the metallic shorts?!” Steve gawked. 

“Columbia did say that the cast changed for the night.” Robin said, and you gave her a quizzical look, remembering the lipstick mark you’d seen on her jaw that night. “She came by and talked to us before the show!” 

“She couldn’t resist my charm.” Steve gave you a smile that you were sure worked with someone like Nancy Wheeler, or Tammy Thompson. You just shook your head and laughed. 

“Right, anyway. Chris came and talked to us after the show and he told me auditions are gonna be open for the cast. He gave me his card, and told me that it was invite only.” you explained.

“You’ve been talking about wanting to be part of that since we started working together.” Steve said. 

“Yeah, I guess I get a shot to do something, too.” 

“Chris turned you down for Hellfire, and now is letting you audition?” Robin asked. 

“We aren’t in school anymore.” you pointed out. “I know how it sounds, but none of us are the same people we were back then. I’m not the same person I was two years ago, none of us are.”

“I hate it when you’re right, you know.” 

“I’m just saying that if I can give you the benefit of the doubt and make friends with you then maybe Chris isn’t as big of a prick as he was back then. I might not have even given Eddie a chance, either.” You picked out a few m&ms from the popcorn bucket, getting your fingers covered with butter and colored candy coating. “I mean, at the end of the day, isn't that what this whole deal was about? Shaking off old habits and trying to step outside of contentment?”

“I thought your deal was so that you can stop having Steve check you out every time you wanted to rent porn.” Robin snickered. 

“I thought we were just trying to get dates.” Steve looked confused and you gave him a pat on the head. It always amused you how his hair could spring back into place like that.

“That too.” you said. 

“So, you’re really okay with Eddie going to see his ex?” Steve said, forcing you back into that topic. 

”I’m not thrilled about it.” You finally admitted. “But we only went on one date and this might help his band. Besides, if we start... Whatever this is without some sort of trust then is it even worth starting?”

“So you trust him?” 

“I trust you and Dustin, who vouched for him. He was honest enough to tell me that it’s his ex who wants to talk about his band. What happens next is up to him.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Steve relented and his eyes wandered back to the tv. 

You didn’t, but you were tired of letting other people tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. 

Ever since Benny’s shut down, there wasn’t really any good place to meet up with someone for lunch in town. Every time he had seen Paige before, it had either been at the Hideout, or his van. Neither of which was really a good place to talk about Corroded Coffin. 

It was Paige’s idea to meet at the small hole-in-the-wall pub that was just out of Eddie’s comfort zone in terms of price. Eddie arrived on Saturday afternoon, earlier than he meant to with his nerves. He leaned against the wall outside of the pub, watched the cars go by as he waited for her. 

She didn’t leave him waiting for long, and ten minutes before their agreed upon time, Paige was standing in front of him for the first time in over two years. She hadn’t grown an inch, but her wavy dark hair had, and now barely brushed her shoulders. In the daylight, Eddie could see a faint tint of red that he never noticed before. Other than two or three times, he realized that he and Paige had never spent a lot of time together when the sun was out. Paige’s freckles were as prominent as ever. 

To Eddie’s surprise, she looked happy to see him. 

“Hi, Eddie.” she said, and to his relief she didn’t go in for a hug. 

“Hi, Paige.” He responded and reached over to open the door to the pub for her. 

The two didn’t say anything until they were sitting at a dimly lit booth in the corner, where Paige broke the ice. 

“Before we get into any business talk, I need you to be honest with me.” She started, sitting up straight and looking him in the eyes. “If you care about your future in music, and your band, you need to tell me what happened. Tell me how you ended up in jail two days before the most important moment in either of our careers.” 

Eddie had expected this, and the past week had been spent trying to find a way to spin the story so that he didn’t look like the biggest asshole on the planet. In the end, he decided that he should be honest with her. Paige wanted real, and he would give that to her, tarnish and all.

Someone came by and took their drink orders, giving Eddie a moment to collect his thoughts. 

“I did something stupid.” He started. 

“Obviously.” She gave him a wry smile. 

“Moving to California isn’t cheap.” He watched the tone of his voice, searching for that piece of him that made Hellfire and Corroded Coffin listen to him. Being a dungeon master for so long had given him a way of speaking that could draw someone in when he tried, and right now he knew he needed to try and convince Paige that Corroded Coffin deserved a second chance. “I needed a way to pay for everything that came with moving across country. My dad... he-” Eddie’s voice wavered for a brief moment. “He had an idea to make some quick cash for the two of us. It wasn’t smart, and it really wasn’t legal.”

“Jesus,” Paige sighed, looking at him with a deep frown. “I would have helped you, Eddie. I was already willing to let you live with me for free until we got you set up. I told you that you didn’t have to be alone in this.” 

Asking for and accepting help wasn’t something that Eddie was ever good at. He’d been hyper-independent since he was a child, when his dad would disappear for long stretches of time, even after his mom died. Asking for help after (or especially because) Paige had put in so much money and effort for him already, wasn’t something that he could bring himself to do. 

“I know.” Eddie said. “I had this stupid idea that if I didn’t make the effort on my own, then I didn’t deserve the change. So I did something stupid, really fucking stupid, and it cost me everything.”

“Mark told me that you shot a cop.” Paige said, and before Eddie could speak up, she continued. “I didn’t believe him. When I wired the money, I was able to get an idea of what happened. You saved that guys life.” 

“I couldn’t let him just bleed out on my yard.” Eddie said. “I couldn’t- it wouldn’t be right to run away like that.” 

“You really caused a lot of trouble, you know that?” 

“I know.” Eddie took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I did a lot of stupid shit I shouldn’t have, and I paid the price. It cost me more than just the audition.”

There was a time between getting the news about his audition with WR Records and the heist that Eddie flew. He had everything he had ever wanted; he got the girl, had his dad back, he had a future, which was something he never thought he’d have. For a few beautiful weeks, he had spiraled up, up, and up. 

In the end though, what goes up must come down. Eddie had reached for something that would never be meant for someone with the last name ‘Munson’. He had crashed back down to earth, to the reality of who he was and it had cost him everything. His dad, his childhood house, his audition, Paige, and even Ronnie for a short time. 

For the next two years, Eddie swore to never even think about reaching for the sun again. 

“Thank you for being honest with me.” Paige said. “I still think you’re an asshole.”

“I was an asshole.” He didn’t even try to fight it. “The biggest one in Hawkins.”

Even with her declaration, Paige still had a look on her face that was the ghost of an expression she had in the passenger side of his van on the night that she had given him the news that WR Records had liked him. 

“Things went downhill for me when you bailed on the audition.” Paige said, and Eddie swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. He had never known what had happened with her after their fight over the phone. “I got in a lot of trouble because of you. Davey doesn’t like anyone, but he liked you. When I couldn’t get you out there, it really screwed up any trust I had with my job.”

She stopped talking for a moment as a waiter came by and dropped off their food. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to touch the overpriced sandwich in front of him yet. His mouth felt dry and he reached for his water instead. 

“I was stuck in a dead end job, where any talent I tried to bring to the label was shot down without being given a chance. I was being paid to do nothing, except babysit the studio and paperwork.  I got demoted, and I was already at the bottom of the totem pole.” Paige never looked away from Eddie, her gaze unflinching and sharp. “I stopped liking music.”

Guilt washed over Eddie, and there was something in him that screamed at him to run away to avoid this. Being the reason someone stopped liking music? He knew he’d fucked up but that... that was something deeper than just missing an audition. 

“They didn’t have the means to really fire me, I hadn’t done anything wrong.” she continued. “They moved me to a smaller label under the WR name. That label was where acts they had given up on went to die.”

“Which label?” Eddie managed to ask, despite how dry his mouth felt. Even the water wasn’t helping. 

“Left Turn Media.” Paige said. 

During those weeks when things had been good between the two of them, Paige had mentioned the label once or twice. It was considered a death sentence to be put on that label, and working for them was WR’s way to get people to quit without firing them. The two had listened to a few cassettes from the label. The bands weren’t bad, and that was what stuck out to Eddie. The music wasn’t bad, but it was clear that the production was lacking and half-assed. Paige said that the music would be sent out to small radio stations to be played in the middle of the night. 

“Shit.” Eddie said. 

“Yeah, shit.” Paige let out a laugh. “But if there’s one thing I am, it’s stubborn. I threw myself into my work. I’ve been spending the last two years breaking down and completely reassembling Left Turn, and now I’m in charge of it.”

“You.” His eyes went wide as he stared at her. “You’re in charge of Left Turn Media.”

“It’s amazing what you can do when you’re pissed and have something to prove.” Paige shrugged. “I had a lot of time to think about my relationship with music in the last few years. I realized if I wanted to bring something real to the music scene of L.A. I was going to have to do it myself.”

Her dark lips curled up into a smile. “I should almost thank you for fucking up. Because you bailed, I was put in charge of a sinking ship. I patched it up with my own time and money and now Left Turn has become the label for all misfit bands who don’t fit any shiny polished label. I proved to myself and everyone around me that I belong in this industry.”

“I-” Eddie wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that. “You’re welcome...?”

“We’re expanding the label outside of California.” She continued. “I’m in charge so I’m trying to bring good music to my hometown. It’s still not the biggest label, and we can’t offer half of what the bigger labels would, but it’s something.”

“And what are you offering?” Eddie felt dizzy, the more she talked. His words were careful, as if asking the wrong question could end in another blow up between the two of them. 

“What I’m offering is another chance for Corroded Coffin to be signed.” Paige’s arms crossed over her chest. “Left Turn is still finding its footing outside of L.A., so we’re flexible. I’m here to work with local radio and college stations around Indiana to get them to play the few bands we’ve signed so far. Who we have are okay, but they aren’t...”

“Real?” 

“Eddie you have something, as much as I never wanted to admit it again after what happened between us. There’s something about the way that you play that I haven’t been able to find since. I could do this without you, but I think that this is the real sink or swim moment. WR Records goes on with or without you, but I think what you have is what could turn Left Turn around.” Page took a deep breath. “If Corroded Coffin wants another shot, this would be it. If you still have that do-or-die energy when you play, I could offer you a real deal to put together an album. I could get you on the radio.”

Eddie listened to her words, taking in what she was offering. Yes, it wouldn’t be the easy street that WR would have been able to offer, but it would be something. And this time, it wouldn’t just be him auditioning, but Corroded Coffin was wanted this time. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie said, his heart rate picking up. 

“As serious as shooting a cop.” 

“Jesus.” Eddie couldn’t stop himself from letting out a laugh. He ran his fingers through his hair, messing up his fringe as he replayed everything that Paige had just told him in his mind. She wanted him to audition again. This was a chance that he wasn’t sure could be passed up. 

“Some of the band is still in high school.” He said, feeling reality settle like a stone in his stomach. He didn’t mention that his name was on that roster. 

“Like I said, we’re flexible.” Paige said. “I still need you all to audition again, and even then it’s going to take me a few months to set anything up here for the band. I want you all to audition with me and a few others from the label before the end of the year. If everything goes according to plan, Left Turn might have the recording studio ready by next June.” 

“You’re setting up your own recording studio?” Eddie perked up, the anxiety and guilt that he had originally felt was now shifting into something new. He found himself relaxing enough to eat his overpriced sandwich. 

“Yes. We need something that’s a step above Live Mike Studios in Lafayette. We have the building picked out and are already gutting it for Left Turn.” 

“You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?” Eddie smiled at her. 

“I have.” Paige agreed. “But I learned not to put all my eggs into one basket. This industry has taught me to have a plan A, B C, and D.” She let out a long sigh. “I made it to plan L before and I would prefer not to do that again.” 

“What was plan L?” 

“If I go into the whole story, I’ll need a strong drink. It involved a guitar player with his head up his ass thinking he was going to be the next Gene Simmons.” Paige groaned. 

“Gene Simmons doesn’t play guitar.” Eddie pointed out. Paige gave him a thousand yard stare, which said everything he needed to know. “Ok. Gotcha.” 

“I’m hoping to get everything set up with minimal surprises.” She concluded. “Get with your band. I’m going to be in town for the rest of the year setting things up.”

Eddie nodded. “So... why Indiana?” he asked. “You were in California. Why come back here to set this up?”

“Like I said, I want to bring good music to my hometown. Once everything’s done, I’ll be able to move back and forth from California to here.”

“And Corroded Coffin?”

“Will stay in Indiana.” She said firmly. “I can’t turn you into the Rock Hero you could have been two years ago, but I can try and make you a Hometown Hero.”

Another story. Paige had always been good at spinning stories. Once upon a time, Eddie had been a barback turned frontman turned Rock Hero. Now he’d be barback turned frontman turned Hometown Hero. That part felt less believable than before. 

That’s how Paige saw him, but how did he see himself? Barback turned front man turned drug thief turned drug dealer turned uber senior? None of that was a story worth selling. And what about the rest of his band? Would Gareth, Jeff, or Zack want to be part of this? Ronnie hadn’t, she just wanted to play just to play. Jeff had been excited about this when the opportunity was first presented, but would he still want the chance? Gareth was the youngest and still had over a year of school left. 

One thing at a time. 

“I’ll talk to the guys next practice.” Eddie said. 

“Good. Are you still playing at the Hideout?” Paige asked. 

Eddie froze for a second, as he imagined Paige and you in the same space to watch him play. He imagined your excited face, and the way you would cheer for them after every song, the excitement that radiated off of you after every set. Even earlier this week, when you’d dropped by to watch them, knowing that Eddie was going to see Paige, you’d still shown the same enthusiasm as before. 

He’d thrown you another pick. You’d handed it back to him at the end of the night, telling him that he could toss it at you again next week. 

“You look like someone who loses your picks the second they are out of your sight.”

You’d been right. The only one he could consistently find was the one he’d turned into a necklace. His dad’s picks had been packed away, shoved under his bed where he wouldn’t see them. Eddie didn’t use those picks anymore. 

A few weeks ago, he couldn’t stop comparing you to Paige, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about how different you two were. 

“Yeah, we play on Tuesdays now.” Eddie said. “People stopped complaining enough that Bev decided to give us a steady slot.”

“Good to know.” Paige said. She wasn’t confirming or denying if she’d show up, but that look in her eyes said that he could expect to see her again soon. 

After all, The Hideout was the only place in twenty miles of Hawkins that offered any live music. 

For the rest of the meal, the two caught up with each other. It didn’t feel as weird as Eddie would have expected, but it was nice. He let Paige do most of the talking, letting her tell him about her work in the industry, he didn’t need her knowing more than she needed to if he wanted to have this shot. Would she want to sign a bunch of high schoolers? He hadn’t even told Paige the first time that he had dropped out when Higgins blackmailed him. 

That was alright for now though. Paige talking meant that he didn’t have to and he added to the conversation by asking plenty of questions about her work. Hearing about the music industry from her end was something that he had a genuine interest in, anyway. 

Paige told him about how she had been given a copy of Iron’s Maiden’s Live After Death by Davey. She was even willing to make Eddie a copy of it. It wasn’t the video, but he wasn’t about to turn down audio of one of his favorite bands that wasn’t even released in the US. 

When the check came, Paige didn’t even blink as she paid the tab and the two of them made their way outside again. It was still pretty early in the afternoon, and the chill of the late autumn air contrasted the bright blue sky.

Trying to still be somewhat of a gentleman, Eddie walked Paige to her car as she recounted the tale of how she had been on the flight from Indianapolis to Los Angeles where Izzy Stradlin had been arrested for pissing in front of everyone.

Paige stopped with her hand on the door to her car before turning around to face Eddie before getting in. 

“I don’t hate you, you know.” she said. “I was mad for a really long time at what you did. But I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Eddie.”

Eddie didn’t feel like he deserved the forgiveness she was offering him. Being told that he was anything other than some satanic cult leader or freak wasn’t something he’d ever get used to.  

“Paige I...” He wasn’t sure what to say. 

She had that look in her eyes, the same look she’d had after she’d given him the news about his original audition. What are you waiting for? Paige was moving closer, freckles like constellations on her skin and the moon in her eyes eclipsed by her eyelids. 

Eddie's hand fell on Paige’s shoulder before her lips could get any closer to his. “I can’t.” he said. 

Her face went through a few emotions. Surprise, disappointment, and settling on embarrassment. 

“Shit. Sorry.” Paige said, shaking her head. 

“No it’s.. It’s fine.” Eddie said, and he could have sworn that Paige looked just as confused as he did. “I don’t think it’s a great idea to do.... That.” 

Eddie hadn’t once entertained the idea of Paige and him together again. It didn’t feel right. He wouldn’t lie and say that he didn’t find her attractive, but it wasn’t the same feeling he got that first night in the Hideout. As a teen, he’d been thrilled that a pretty girl was paying any attention to him at all, and was willing to do anything and be anything she wanted. 

Any relationship with Paige was business, plain and simple. She wanted a Rock Hero to help her get up the ladder, Eddie wanted to make it with his band. Sex had just been a bonus in their past relationship. Paige knew her stuff with music and the industry, but she didn’t rant about Ozzy and his bats, or have a real interest in D&D or put herself out there the same way that you- 

“I’m seeing someone.” He blurted out before Paige could say anything else. 

Paige looked surprised for a moment and shook her head and laughed. “Right. That... I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I did that.” she admitted. “I guess I got swept up in this stupid fantasy about being a power couple. We’re a bad idea.” 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie said, not sure what else could be said in this situation. 

“Don’t be. You’re right, ‘us’ is a bad idea.” she ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s a good thing my offer isn’t dependent on if we’re sleeping together or not.”

“I know you bought me lunch, are giving my band a second chance, and forgave me for one of the biggest fuck ups of my life, but I don’t put out that easy.” Eddie smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood.

Paige offered her hand and Eddie took it. “Business only then.” she said. “Talk to your band and call me to set up the audition.” 

Eddie watched Paige’s car drive off, and suddenly felt a lot lighter. He blasted his music and drove home, nearly laughing like a maniac. Today had been a wild roller coaster of emotions, and he couldn’t wait until the next band practice to bring the news to his band. 

At home, he grabbed his guitar and immediately began sorting through Corroded Coffin’s small pile of original songs, and the covers that they were able to perform the best. Eddie was off, lost in his own world as he wrote, re-wrote, and re-worked the set list. 

What would you think? Would you be excited for him? If this worked, he was going to make sure to get you concert tickets. Okay, he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe you could at least come for the audition as moral support. His band liked you, so maybe they wouldn’t mind. 

Eddie didn’t come back down to Earth until the phone rang that evening after Wayne went to work. He almost missed the call because of how deep he was into perfecting the riff that had eluded him for the past few months, determined now more than ever to get it down. 

He reached the phone on the last possible ring. “Hello?”

“Hey... Eddie?” Your voice cracked over the phone, and that feeling of excitement came crashing down. “Sorry I... Can you come pick me up? I’m at home.” 

You were crying. He could hear it in the way your voice strained and cracked. He was already reaching for his keys. 

“I’ll be right there.”  

a/n: As I stated before, I do like to try and keep everything as time accurate as possible. However things happen, and sometimes things are too good not to use. The Izzy Stradlin incident did not happen until 1989, but the fact that it was on a flight from Indianapolis to LA was too good to pass up. I also would like to notate that I did make a mistake when it came to the Ozzy Bat Incident. It was not a 17 year old girl, it was a 17 year old boy and the bat was already dead. Chalk that inaccuracy up to the tabloids of the time, and the lack of Google. No, this will not be addressed in the future of the fic unless it’s funny. 

Dividers By: @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @siriuslysmoking @huffledor-able541 @pookiesnatcher @eddiesguitarskills @browneyes-8288 @sheneedsrocknroll92

[jq37]

FH Junior Year Post-Season Thoughts

With another season of Fantasy High in the books and my recaps all finished, I wanted to do an overview of my thoughts on the season as a whole. Even though I feel generally positive about my experience with the season, there are a few things I think maybe could have been done differently narratively or mechanically. This isn't to criticize the way the season went down or to backseat DM/Play. More my combined ten years of college for textual analysis and storytelling bleeding through, haha. 

I first want to start with the things I thought worked really well.

Fantasy High has "High" right in its title but, in past seasons (and especially Sophomore Year), not as much time as you'd think was spent actually at school and even if it was spent at school, there wasn't much time spent in class or engaging with the realities of being a student. This season really dug into the academic consequences of skipping your classes all the time and the realities of needing to do a ton of extra stuff to try for a scholarship and I think that was a refreshing thing to highlight for a change. Being more scared at flunking out than the dragon that's trying to eat you feels very emotionally resonant. Real "High School Is Killing Me" vibes for anyone who's a fan of NPMD. 

Even though Fantasy High is a show that has some deep emotional beats and strong character arcs, it's first and foremost a comedy show. From the jump, everyone was generating bit after bit that had me cracking up as usual. "Little girly dog collar" is one of the funniest combinations of words I can think of. I think it was Siobhan who said that this was the goofy season and, having seen it, I'd have to agree with her. It never failed to make me laugh and it was always a highlight of my week.  The cast just has great table chemistry that I love to watch no matter what they're doing. 

Watching some of these high level combat encounters is as close as I'll get to understanding people watching sports. Even though combat is generally my least fave part of D&D, I think the cast really killed it this season with how cleverly they played and Brennan came up with some really great combat encounters. Special shout outs to Baron's Game and The Last Stand for their unique mechanics.  

This is going to be one that's on the other list as well because my feelings are mixed, but I genuinely do like the downtime mechanic and how it forces hard choices. I think it's an interesting way to connect a mechanic to the story and cultivate stressful atmosphere for the season.

I have problems with the execution but I love the Rat Grinders in concept. I think as early as season 1 I was hoping that we'd meet a party that was like the Bizarro Bad Kids and the idea of a party that's farming XP instead of going on crazy adventures is a strong concept. Likewise, I think a character that's jealous because of your "cool" (read: tragic) backstory is also a fun trait for an unhinged antagonist in this kind of setting.

This is me absolutely showing my bias but I adored the Abernant Sisters content this season. I dunno if Siobhan specifically asked Brennan to not put her on a bus with the other beloved NPCs or what but I'm so glad she stuck around and we got the development we did. It was almost entirely ancillary to the plot but there was this clear pattern of Aelwyn getting softer and sweeter towards Adaine over the course of the season, from the guarded, "Enjoy the nemesis ward," to, full I love you's and, "I'd take them to get you." It was way more focus than I expected considering that Aelwyn completed the bulk of her arc last season and a lot of the time, a redemption arc basically ends after the big gesture (in this case, Aelwyn taking a magic blast for Adaine in Sophomore Year). So the fact that we got to see all of these sweet moments of them reestablishing their relationship outside of do or die moments was such a pleasant surprise. Again, I fully admit I am extremely biased, but this was my top wishlist item and the season overdelivered so there's a baseline happy I'm always gonna be with Junior Year. 

OK, so moving on to things I things I think could have been tweaked.

Even though I liked the downtime system and the pressures it created, it also squeezed out the chance for more casual PC to NPC interactions that would usually be more common because they were semi-locked behind the relationship track and there wasn't an obvious benefit to roll for Relationships (as opposed to something like Academics which was crucial for not flunking out). Making the mechanical benefit more clear would have helped that (even if it meant Brennan didn't get his reveal--which he ended up just telling them anyway so might as well do it early). The other thing is that the consequence of a rage token was so bad that of course they spent all season avoiding getting one. Things might have gone differently if the consequences had been a bit more obscured, like in Neverafter. And it could have been a nice parallel to the Rat Grinders to take this unknown resource that makes things easier for you but is also having this negative effect. Then it could be like dang we did the same thing they did unknowingly. 

I mentioned this in my recap but I'll talk about it again. It is a little confusing to me that we did the Ankarna subplot right after we did the very similar Cassandra subplot. It took up so much time this season which I don't think is an issue in and of itself, it's just that we literally just went through some extremely similar beats last season. Why double up on this same storyline when there's so much new ground to cover? Or if we're going to raise a god, why not make it a different kind of god? One theory I had early on was that the Rat Grinders were trying to raise their own god to one-up the Bad Kids but instead of raising a chill, misunderstood Cass type, they accidentally raised a god who was erased for a good reason and got in over their heads. 

It's fun for there to be connections between seasons but sometimes it's like, OK that's a *lot* of coincidences. Like the god who your rivals is trying to raise *happens* to be the wife of your cleric's god and also *happens* to be the god of the fiend trapped in your friend's mom's chest and that fiend *happens* to be the relative on your bard's dad's side which is *also* the reason she is randomly cursed? That's a LOT of red string connecting plot points. As unhinged as Kipperlilly is about coveting Riz's backstory if I saw that go down I'd be like you have *got* to be kidding me.  

The mystery elements didn't feel like they clicked as well as they did in other seasons. I think that's partially because Porter's plan was so convoluted (seriously, I made another post about how haphazard his plan was) and had all these moving parts and we didn't get clear answers for a lot of mechanical things like how the rage crystals actually work and when they were implanted and stuff. You had stuff like Devil's Honey which I think is super cool as a thing that exists in the world but ended up being an element that just led the players down the wrong path and had a relatively small payoff (that Porter was using it to lie to Ankarna). I think it's plausible that a forgotten god would be willing to listen to anyone saying the right things without introducing this element. (As opposed to, for instance, Ambrosia which has a very clear connection to what's going on and is a solid clue that someone is flirting with aspirations of godhood.) 

The Porter reveal came so late in the season that even though it was a fun/challenging fight, there wasn't a lot of emotional weight behind killing him. It was basically just dunking on a teacher Fig has always hated who was also mean to Gorgug so screw him. Which, valid of course. But the Bad Kids were never going to react as strongly to Porter as they were to the Rat Grinders so putting Porter in the prime villain spot isn't necessarily what I would have done if I wanted the fight to be more than just a brawl--especially since we've done "School admin with student minions" already in S1. I don't mind the full circle callback but it would have been nice to pick something else for the sake of variety. We haven't had a child mastermind yet and I think Kipperlilly could have been a great candidate for that. My friend suggested that it would have been fun if Kipperlilly was trying to become a god instead of just being Porter's underling and I agree. "I'm not anyone's chosen one so I'll choose myself," is still within her established jealousy and Type A tendencies. If we want to keep Porter involved since that was Brennan's gift to Emily, maybe have it be that instead of Kipperlilly working for him, he's working for her. Like Artemis Fowl vibes! And the Rat Grinders can be varying levels of on board--from true believe to redeemable. I don't think Brennan planned for the Bad Kids to ever redeem her so might as well go full megalomaniacal mastermind with her and make her The Villain if she's not gonna be nuanced anyway. If My Little Pony can do it and send a literal child to Tartarus for pony treason (or whatever Cozy Glow did), Fantasy High can too. 

Continuing from the above, if we have the Porter fight in place of the Grix fight (a la Daybreak) and don't use Ankarna, that gives way more time for the Bad Kids to investigate the Rat Grinders throughout the season and it would mean that they would have their personalities developed a lot more. With the limited downtime, they Bad Kids didn't have a lot of time to spend on these kids who were just hating on them for no good reason (valid). But if you cleared their plate of the god hunt stuff, they'd have more time for this. And if they weren't all rage zombies to varying degrees, it would be easier to see them as characters. Besides Kipperlilly (and, funnily enough, Mary Ann) we don't really have a good read on what these kids are actually like. The little time we spent with them all season was kind of a wash if them breaking out of rage means their personalities got laundered too. Anyway, regardless of how their loyalties ended up shaking out, it would have been fun for them to be more than the minions that they were in canon. As funny as it is for them to just kinda be XP farming losers, they did have the potential to be more interesting in their own right if they weren't just Porter's minions. And again, we've done adults forcing or coercing children into being minions in Freshman and Sophomore Year already. Lemme see some self-created child maniacs! (Or, peer pressured child maniacs. That's cool too. The Lucy/Kipperlilly dynamic is way more interesting to me if it's like girl, I would take a bullet for you but I CANNOT walk this path with you any further in response to *I* will be a god and you can be *MY* champion.)

Anyway, those are my thoughts! Like I said, I have my points that I think could have been tightened, but overall an enjoyable season and I will be glued to my screen if they decide to close out with Senior Year! 

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hello! I've been a quiet reader for some time now, and first, let me say that I love your writing! it's so entertaining and fun to read that every time i read it just make my day better, props to you!!

Been thinking, how might the cast react to a friend M!MC that out of the blue gives them a kiss on the forehead as his first romantic approach? I just imagine that MC couldn't contain his adoration and love feelings for them anymore and just went for it.

If it picks your interest i would love to see what you came out with! Hope you're having a great day😁😁

A/N: love me some cute ass prompts ❤️💞❤️

HLC REACT TO M!MC KISSING THEIR FOREHEAD FOR THE FIRST TIME

MC struggles to express his emotions, to put it lightly. He could be pretty quiet and stoic on the outside while having a full spectrum of color for emotions on the inside. He's been internally arguing with himself for a while how to tell his friend that he wanted the relationship to be something more. This could sometimes leave him staring at them for uncomfortable periods of time. His best friend didn't even have time to ask if he was okay before he got up from his seat, kissed them on the forehead and walked away, red as a cherry.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He actually drops the book he's holding. He sputters for a moment before running after MC. "Hey, wait! You can't just do that and walk away!"

OMINIS GAUNT: He startles a little and feels his forehead. He's never received a kiss in his life, he doesn't know what that feels like. "Wha-...what?" Is all he can manage to say as he tries to process what just happened.

ANNE SALLOW: She watches MC walk away in shock. Her cheeks slowly tingle pink as she tries to connect the dots on what this could mean. MC will have to come back around again eventually. Maybe she can return the favor.

IMELDA REYES: "Hey!" She wipes her forehead with her sleeve. "Weirdo..." She says to herself and goes back to what she was doing before the kiss interrupted her. She fights a smile that keeps sneaking its way into her face.

NATSAI ONAI: She makes a small noise in surprise and immediately marches after MC when he tries to escape. She grabs his hand. "Not so fast! What was that about?" MC can't get away with it with her.

GARRETH WEASLEY: Doesn't react for a solid two minutes after MC smooches him. Then he freezes. Touches his forehead. Turns red as a beet. Screams.

LEANDER PREWETT: "What the-???" He immediately turns red and stutters as MC walks off. He's sent reeling for the next six hours about what this could mean.

AMIT THAKKAR: He's too stunned to speak. He just sits there, quill mid note taking, slowly turning shades of maroon. The kiss plays over and over in his memory. He'll never forget it.

EVERETT CLOPTON: His heart is beating so fast it could explode. He runs off after MC shouting at him. "WAIT! Tell me what this means!!"

POPPY SWEETING: MC has to bend down pretty far to get to her forehead. This gives her enough time to react to his movement. "What are you doing?" She moves away and watches his body language. He's embarrassed, caught in the act. "If you wanted to kiss me...all you had to do was ask." She grabs his face and kisses him first right on the lips.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

This was for the best, right? (Vil x Fem Reader)

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Genre: Heavy angst/ No comfort

Pairing: Vil x Fem Reader & One-sided Rook x Fem Reader

A/n: Hi! So do you guys recall the idea I had with Vil x Reader angst? So this is it! If you want to know about it first, I’ll link it (here) I hope you like this one, I gave my best effort on this, hopefully, it fits Vil, I love him so much.

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers!

Warning: This is ANGST NO COMFORT! Panic Attacks on Vil’s side, Breakups no reconciliation, misunderstanding and Insecure Vil, relapses of Trauma on Vil’s side, talking bad about Reader’s appearance, although vague it still is there.

!PROCEED WITH CAUTION! Masterlist

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Sypnosis: Your face got leaked throughout social media when you went to have a date with your boyfriend Vil. It made him hate his reputation; he would understand if people bashed him instead, after all, he wouldn't let those words affect him, he's more worried about you, you're not used to the media watching you, having you be seen with him by paparazzi. He kept thinking of ending things with you to protect you from the backlash. ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

He is usually unbothered by the fact that he gains hate often, he plays villainous roles, having to only reach till halfway or even before the story’s conclusion. It was normal for people to threaten him just because his character did something horrible to the main character. At least he is aware of how well he performed in acting by how despised he was. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was you being the one gaining hate. 

People are hypocrites, they cuss him out and throw the worst insults they could think of towards him, and at the same time, they view him as a perfect human who deserves someone “better for him”. He didn’t expect that his selfishness would get in the way of his relationship with you just because he wants one normal date outside of school but when one of his paparazzi caught a picture of him with you out on a simple date in Pyroxene. The picture showed your face fully without any filters, those uncouth journalists milking his fame with their horrendous illegal articles; anything to gain a higher footing in their industry than anyone else.

When he found out about the article, you two were cuddling in Pomefiore in his bedroom. He had a separate, massive bedroom since he was the housewarden, watching the film that he was recently cast in. As usual, he was given the role of a villain, it was the same old same old, except this time, the villain won, and it was satisfying to see him reach the end. He didn’t tell you though, so while you lay your head on his shoulder, watching; complimenting his looks and joking about how you’d date him even if he was that crazy.

He loves your little antics, you’re the only one who had an odd mind falling for the roles he has. “You have a peculiar taste for characters sweetheart” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer while you giggled. 

“Funny how I’m dating you” You cuddled closer to him, what you said earned you a playful glare. He was about to tickle you as punishment, but his phone suddenly vibrated, showing the name of his manager, he went to kiss your forehead before he untangled himself off you; “Give me a second, I’ll take this call real quick” he informed you which you gave a nod, letting him out of the bedroom and to his bathroom. 

"What is it?"He examined himself in the mirror, fixing his hair while his manager spoke, "Vil, check what I sent you, it's a link." Vil glanced at his phone and clicked on the article, wondering what it was, he waited for a bit, and as soon as it finished loading his heart drops.

“Famous actor Vil Schoenheit caught dating!” It was a stupid title, but he didn’t give any thought about It, fearing for the worst he scrolled further, finding your face unblurred on it. “What is the meaning of this?” he frowned, gripping his phone before his manager answered. 

“I’m not sure how they found out about the café you and your lover frequent but I’m trying to track down the owner of the article and threaten them with a lawsuit, but with how the media eats up everything, I’m afraid the damage has been done” Vil could hear rustling from the other end his manager taking out which he thinks is paperwork, most likely about the process of lawsuit, he was growing restless as he looked at how many comments and likes did the article gain. He didn’t even notice that his Magicam was being blown up by “fans” questioning him for his taste, and criticizing you. 

He was starting to feel chills around his body when he continued to investigate the whole thing, Vil was close to having a panic attack, gripping the edge of the sink. He tried to calm himself down, remembering what his father taught him. 

“Deep breath in, deep breath out” he recalled, causing him to loosen his grip a bit and relax. A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts when he faintly hears you from outside. 

“Vil? Are you okay? You’re taking a while there” you asked which he straightened himself up, composing himself before looking at his phone, who still had his manager on call. “I’ll have you deal with this; I need to go.” He walked to the door opening it after his manager agreed and ended the call.

“Sorry, it was just a minor nuisance at work” He smiled at you, he was a good actor but when it comes to you sometimes, he can’t seem to lie. “Are you sure? You sounded pretty agitated when I went to check on you” You touched his hand, entangling your fingers with his, which made him sigh. 

“it’s…” he hesitated for a moment; does he tell you? He can’t drag you into all of this, he was planning to have it stay hidden till the article was gone, but at the same time, you’re bound to know about it once your friends find out and question you about it.

“Can we talk?” He finally caved in, gazing at you with a mixture of worry in his eyes; how could you say no to that? 

When you found out about the article, Vil was worried that you’d be upset at him, not once did your expression change when he was explaining it. He didn’t expect you to smile and kiss his cheek, telling him that “it’s okay, the media will die down on it, at least if they found out, they won’t bat an eye if we go on dates more publicly, right?” you told him.

He was amazed with how well you handled the news; what about the possibility of receiving backlash? No, actually you both were receiving backlash already. “You’ll have to stop using social media for a while and deactivate it just to be safe” he warned you, looking at you for any signs of distress, he was concerned that you were just hiding it, you’re not someone who’s made to handle the eyes of strangers, he thinks you might not even understand what it means to have your face be doxed by media. 

"Darling," he said, enveloping you in his embrace, which you gladly returned. He said, "Listen, this is the media we're talking about," stepping back to look directly into your eyes. You'll be receiving insults left and right, and I worry that if your friends choose to drop you because of our reputation, it will negatively impact you. I'm capable of managing myself and safeguarding you from the public eye, but what if this also concerns your friends?" he knew that the possibility of your close friends dropping you for something trivial like this was unlikely to happen but there’s still a possibility. 

“If they drop me for something so stupid, I guess they don’t deserve to be my friend,” you said firmly, “Vil, I don’t mind this," You replied firmly, "but it seems like you’re bothered by it” You pointed out, touching his face, it was true, he is bothered by it, he’s scared of the outcome, he’s afraid that every day when you go out in public, people will try to hurt you or coerce you into doing something you don’t like.

“Once the article is down, it’ll fizzle out” You comforted him, noticing that his breathing started getting a bit ragged. Was it really going to stop once that article was taken down? There might be people who saved that article and reposted it. 

In the next few days, you two would often just stay within school grounds, Night Raven College is big enough for you two to roam around and have your usual dates; Despite his frequent work schedule and dormitory maintenance, he still made time to have meals with you. During those times, everyone seemed to keep testing his patience, when he was on set, his unprofessional coworkers kept festering him about you, and when outside, he felt restricted, not being able to walk freely without eyes catching him, so he was advised by his manager to use his car to go back to school and work. He kept his social media muted as well; he couldn’t scroll around Magicam cause every article in those past few days has been nothing but hatred towards you.

“That woman looks so average, what the hell did Vil see in her?”

“Honestly, I would even accept if he’s gay for Neige, whenever those two are together they look so cute!”

“She looks like an extra://” 

Comment after comment of users trashing your looks, your whole being even without knowing you.

It angers him, so for the sake of his mental health and yours, he made sure that you also kept your social media muted, although often, he saw you scrolling on it, reading the comments, or just chatting with your friends. 

He doesn’t understand why you do it, it frustrates him a bit when you do, but he couldn’t tell you to just delete social media entirely, he’s not toxic.  

During lunchtime, he was late to meet you, rushing through the cafeteria, he found you with Deuce and Ace, chatting away. He was going to greet you till he heard what Ace said.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna stop this act?” he munched on his egg sandwich while Deuce looked at Ace like he had just grown a second head. 

“What the hell are you talking about Ace” Deuce said before Ace glared back at him. “I mean! Being unbothered by whatever nonsense Magicam’s got on. You have your face everywhere and people are talking smack about it!” He pointed out in which, Vil couldn’t even see what your expression was right now. "If I were you, I’d confront him about why his agency hasn't gotten to the bottom of this." Deuce wanted to hit Ace that time, but it was true, both your friends were confused as to why it continued to circulate. 

“You don’t have to listen to Ace” Deuce paused, not knowing where this could possibly lead to what he meant. “It’s okay, I understand the concern.” You voiced out, placing the fork down, fiddling with your fingers, “It does affect me, but It’s not Vil’s fault that It got way out of hand.” 

Vil frowned, hearing that, so it did affect you, why didn’t you tell him? Was it because of his incompetence? He thought about how many times you told him that it was okay, that you didn’t mind it. He knew that the article was stupid, but the evidence was evidence to journalists, and that caused you to be in the middle of the crossfire between him and his “fans”. 

Was it worth sacrificing your peace dating him? He smiled bitterly to himself, how stupid of him to have these kinds of thoughts. He looked at his phone, he was going to send you a message that he was in the cafeteria but decided to go against it. 

“I don’t think I can make it. You can go eat.” He sent the message before leaving the cafeteria and going back to the dormitory, he needed some time for himself. 

When he reached his living quarters, he sat down on his bed, noticing the way the curtains were covering any light coming inside. It was like the state of his mind currently, he didn’t feel like doing his daily routine today, which is funny, if he didn’t push himself to keep a perfect image, he would be nothing but average; but if he did look average, would that give both of you the pleasure of living a normal life? 

He scoffed to himself, he can’t just throw his career away, he needs it for your future; both your futures, he stood up, grabbing all the necessary cream, face powder, and other stuff for his face, but the moment he saw himself, looking tired, he stiffened up. Will there be a future where the two of you would be together?

Vil didn’t realize that he started to avoid you. His bedroom was inaccessible, you would knock on his door, but he wouldn’t confront you. Staying silent and just waiting till the knocking subsided and you were out. 

He still showed up to needed House warden meetings, or event planning, he did his duties as usual, he just didn’t do his duties being your boyfriend. 

It was as if his insecurities when he was younger were relapsing whenever he thought of talking with you, was it okay to talk to you right now? He still thinks it’s not the right timing. He isn’t his usual self right now and he doesn’t want to risk doing anything bad. 

However, it breaks his heart to see the sorrow in your eyes when you meet him and to see him neglect you. He was aware that the distance between you and his unwillingness to communicate about the situation was making your relationship unstable. 

After three days of no contact, he was on top of Pomefiore’s garden, he missed you dearly, he gazed down to see his dormmates having tea under the recently renovated garden, then he noticed someone familiar within the garden, focusing his eyes on it, it was you! You looked… happy? 

That was the smile that you usually only reserve for him, what’s going on? Vil thought to himself, confused as he ripped his eyes off you, only to notice Rook Hunt, touching you the way you would with a lover, giving you a gaze he never saw from Rook, but he knew what that was.

Rook liked you, both of them did, but he decided to step down in favor of letting Vil court you. He knew that feelings would never fade that easily but he didn't expect to see this sight. You two looked so perfect for each other, his hand touching yours as if you were having the time of your life, even without him. He clawed the railing of the balcony, not feeling his fingernails scrape the paint off of it, his eyes blurring as he walked away, fearing that he might fall if he ever passed out. His heartbeats were the only sound he could hear, aside from the static his ears were hearing. 

“Breathe.” 

He fell back into his bedroom, feeling his whole body shiver as he grips on his arm, numb to the pain that his nails were digging into his flesh. Cold sweat trickled down his face, he didn’t know if he was even breathing or not, his brain foggy, like an impending doom was going to happen if he once tried to “breathe.”

Vil ended up passing out, and unfortunately, the moment he woke up, it was already 5 am, he jolted awake, standing up, hearing a continuous knock from his door, He flinched as his head throbbed, touching it gently to try to ease his headache, he moved to the door, opening it, not expecting to see the person he least wants to see.

“Roi de Poison” Rook greets him, smiling brightly at him, Irritating. “I noticed you haven’t gotten up and gone to work yet, did you take a sick leave?” Rook continued, his voice filled with worry, he was about to fix the hair covering Vil’s face when he got his hand slapped away, startling him, he noticed the way Vil’s eyes darkened a bit.

“I’m fine” Vil affirmed, groaning a bit, he pinched the bridge of his nose as another headache hit his head again. “I’ll get ready, for the meantime, please take care of the dorm in my absence” He continued, replying curtly as he slammed the door shut before Rook could even say anything, He was sure that Rook would do as he says, if he didn’t, he’ll find a new vice housewarden. 

Vil was already late for work, his disheveled look was barely noticeable but his manager noticed the slight imperfection in it. She walked up to him, fixing the sleeves of his outfit. “You’re late Mr. Schoenheit” She buttoned the sleeves, waiting for a response from Vil, who just sighed, “I apologize, something came up, can we start?”

You were getting worried, Rook went to your dorm, telling you about the state of Vil and that he was worse for wear, you decided that this time, you were going to visit and you were going to talk to him even if he didn't want to. It’s been dragging on for too long—the avoidance of your lover and the media is hurting you. You need to do something before your relationship reaches a breaking point.

When you arrived at the modeling agency where Vil works, you were graciously allowed in. You were familiar to those at the agency; some supported you, while others did not. However, the only support you needed was Vil's.

The moment you stepped inside the photoshoot, you saw Vil, working with another model, he looked gorgeous as always, although it seemed that he was tired; it was unusual for him to be in a state where it was obvious.

The manager noticed you before she ushered you further in, just to get nearer where Vil could see you, and Vil froze, stopping the shooting when he saw your face. 

“I’m going to take a break,” he said to the crew members, seeing you, his gaze remained unfazed, “Let’s talk on the lounge” he murmured, walking past you.

You didn’t know what else to do but follow him, understanding that Vil wasn’t feeling well. The moment the two of you were alone, he went to give you apple juice, the one that Epel’s family sells, you give a gentle smile to him, but he didn’t reciprocate. It made your heart ache. 

“What do you need?” he asked, sitting down on the opposite side of you. Reluctant to look at him, you fixed your gaze on the apple juice. “Are you feeling alright?” you asked, which made Vil chuckle, “That’s a funny question Y/n” 

“I just wanted to know, You’ve been avoiding me for a while and-“You were cut off by Vil who placed the half-empty apple juice on the table. “I just needed some time to think, plus we agreed to lay low” He answered, which frustrated you “Vil, I heard from Rook that you turned up late during work" you were feeling nervous, and for the first time, your lover made you uneasy. "that never happened before,” you said, wanting to touch his hand, but he pulled it away, his eyes showing a trace of betrayal.

“What?” he asked, heart breaking as he looked at you, “Rook told you?”

“Of course he did, he’s a close friend of yours!” you protested, feeling a sense of desperation when Vil kept rejecting you, for the past few weeks, or months? You don’t know, but it’s been so long since you two last saw each other and stared at each other for more than just a glance, now you’re on the receiving end of his glare?

“You…” Vil murmured, before he finally let his body relax, his expression turning soft. “I think we should break things off.”

“What?” you gasped, gripping on the apple juice a little bit too hard, “Vil- “

“Why?” 

Why? Vil wanted to answer why, there were plenty of reasons why, you two were just way too different, and the fact that if he pursued this relationship further, it’d hurt both of you more. It was clear that Rook liked you and you liked Rook, what is there to continue this relationship? Plus, the media will continue to see you as inferior, this will continue for a lifetime, and no matter what he can’t see why and how your relationship with him will continue without it getting toxic. He finally understood that he is way too much for you, his feelings would slowly wrap you around vines that contain poison, HIS poison. He was thinking of the future, and he can’t see it going beyond the challenges you two face. 

He eventually responded, "I lost interest, I’m sorry, we both should focus on our careers first” He lied, not looking at you as well, you both were too hurt to even gaze at each other. You didn’t move or talk, so he decided to stand up, fixing his attire and looking cold. “I’ll be leaving now, hopefully, we can put this all behind us, I’ll have a taxi be ready to get you home when you’re ready.” he said, his heart aching, he wanted to hold you, but he stopped himself, “Just talk to the manager when you plan to leave” he continued, turning around before leaving the lounge.  

The moment you left, the manager went up to him excitedly, he didn’t feel like celebrating at all when he found out that they tracked down who the journalist is and are now filing a lawsuit against them; at least on a positive note, you were out of the picture, out of the prying eyes of the media. 

This was for the best, he thought to himself, feeling numb while he felt his chest tighten when he went back to work.

Word Count: 3418

[rukminis]

I have a theory about Lady Tilley Arnold in the show and how it might be an indication that the next season is Benedict's (please gods, let it be Benedict's), here we go

SPOILERS for Bridgerton season 3 and An Offer From a Gentleman under the cut!

Right, so I was pretty mad when they introduced yet another love interest so flippantly for Benedict, but I rewatched the portions with Lady Tilley and there are two things that go unexplained.

1. She mentions that she had a husband, and had had several seasons to mourn him already

2. She was arguing with a solicitor when Benedict called on her, and never properly explained why

I'm hoping Part 2 will give us more insight, but here's what I make of this, and the book comes into play now.

What if Lady Tilley is a shoe-in for Araminta?

The circumstances do seem similar: Araminta also married Sophie's father, the Earl, shortly before he died. Tilley didn't mention having children at all, so either she hid the fact that she had daughters from Benedict, or she doesn't have children in the show at all.

And funnily enough, not having step-siblings would really add to Sophie's story, because Tilley might certainly be bitter about the fact that she didn't get to produce a rightful heir to her husband's estate and the only remaining person with an actual blood relation to the Earl is Sophie. It would also serve as such a great plot point for why Araminta/Tilley might torture Sophie in the show.

On to the second point, Tilley was arguing with a solicitor. When Benedict asked, she just explained it away saying he was overcharging her, but what if it was more?

What if, like the books, the late Earl left everything to his ward Sophie and Araminta/Tilley was trying to get the solicitor to hide or edit out that portion in her favour? Araminta did conceal and lie about the will to Sophie in the books, so it isn't too much of a stretch to have that in the show too.

If we assume Tilley married her husband in her early 20s, he died in her mid 20s, and she's now in her early 30s, it still gives us a huge time span for her to raise (read: enslave) Sophie for more than half a decade.

ALSO, in a promo reel where Bridgerton cast members were associating this season with emojis, Luke Newton said 'drama masks'. Yes it could be about Penelope's mask as Whistledown coming off, but Benedict and Sophie's storyline is centered around the masquerade ball, which also involves masks.

Eloise's midnight deadline for Penelope to reveal herself (in the part 2 teaser) also seems significant to me because it's a converging point for the drama. And Sophie escaped the masquerade ball at midnight in the book.

I'm thinking that, at some point during the last two episodes, Violet hosts her masquerade ball. Benedict meets Sophie like the books, even leaves Tilley alone to dance with this mystery woman. And when midnight approaches, Penelope reveals herself as Whistledown.

There will, naturally, be pandemonium. Benedict might even have to rush to Colin and Pen's rescue, he's a Bridgerton after all. And in this chaos, Sophie leaves. That very night, Tilley realises that Sophie went to the ball. Not only is she angry that her little servant flouted her orders, she is mad because Sophie stole her man's attention away. And she casts Sophie out (we may actually see this whole POV in the next season though, so hmph).

But I think this season will end with Benedict coming out of the masquerade utterly smitten, and vowing to find the woman in the mask who has won over his heart. And that's how his season will begin.

Unless they decide to break my heart and pursue Francesca's story.

Ah well. Let's see haha.

[charlidos]

THE CHRONICLES OF THE CUNTYBAGO

I love the lore of the Fellowship, I can't get enough of it. And it's really turned into a kind of myth, hasn't it? The stories have been established, from being told again and again. Regardless if it's not the whole truth, or even not true at all. The lore has a life of its own. And it changes, depedning on who's talking, and over time.

The lore of the (inappropriately named) Cuntybago is a favourite; that famed make-up trailer bus where Orlando spent so much time with Viggo (hours and hours for years and years if you listen to Orlando) absorbing everything Viggo did.

So here's the Ultimate (very long) Cuntybago Post.

The Cuntybago is apparently where all the after-work parties happened. Most of what actually happened on it is still secret, private events not to be shared; after hours, after some wine/whisky drinking. What kind of special stuff was in the drawers? What did they really smoke? And, most intriguingly, who exactly was left onboard when everyone were ordered to get out... (Erm, V&O, perhaps?)I'm sure there are many more photos from the bus. Like a photo of Viggo & Orlando - which has yet to be seen. Oh, to have been a fly on that wall!

(A clip from the last day of the reshoots, in 2003. Because it's the time the bus has been talked about the most. Even if I'm unsure if this is the actual Cuntybago or not. Since it doesn't look green...)

Mortensen and Orlando Bloom spent much of their off-time on a green bus they named the "Cunty-Bago." Instead of the standard luxury lodging demanded by most stars on set, Viggo and co-star Orlando Bloom shared a converted bus while filming Rings. Viggo stocked the bus with a wine cellar and wallpapered the inside with candid behind-the-scenes photos. A source on the set said the bus was the site of frequent cast parties, with the motto, "Everyone is welcome, but when it's time to go, get out!" Indeed, they formed a club — The Cunty-Bago Club. [Viggo, Sean and Orlando] shared a make-up Winnebago, and through hours of beard and pointy-ear application formulated the rules of their society — most of which boil down to getting gossip and posting it on. [on what? I think the text is cut?]

There are very few quotes from Viggo. If you read his old interviews about life on set it sounds like he mostly worked 6 days a week, 14 hours a day. And in his free time, he went camping and fishing by himself and just drove around to get some me-time. That's it. It all sounds like mostly work and no play for Viggo. Cementing this image of him being ever serene, wise and a hard working method actor who never stopped being Aragorn. But then, we have the stories of this bus, which shows his wilder side...

(Viggo in ponytails, with a glass of wine and banana, in front of that mirror covered in photographs. They both took a lot of photos on set, so I guess a bunch of those photos are Orlando's.)

All Viggo's said is this:

"It was a crazy small bus." "Everything had cunt. It was 'cunt this' and 'cunt that'. We had a cuntmas tree, and we had cuntmas angels."

(Orlando on the makeup bus. )

Orlando has mostly mentioned the bus in passing, as he loves on Viggo, his great hero. And in his words, it always sounds like it was just the two of them... (when in fact it was from time to time also shared with Sean B, Bernard and Liv - but only Viggo & Orlando were there the whole time).

[Me and Viggo would] sit next to each other for a couple or hours each morning in a make-up truck. You get to know someone that way, more than by being in scenes with them. I used to sit next to him on the make-up bus, and find myself just staring at him while he was having his make-up done and drawing in his book or writing his notes. I would find myself fascinated. When I went back for re-shoots, I was on my own and he wasn't sitting there, and I suddenly was sitting in the makeup bus that we'd been driving around in for 18 months in New Zealand and got really emotional and felt that it was kind of weird to be there without him there and sort of reflected on all of the happy conversations and chats and glasses of wine and talks that we would have at the end of the day or whatever. He really had a huge impact on my life as an actor.

But he did say a few specific things too:

"Ahhh yes, the bus. It was mine, all mine. It was my precious." Bloom christened the bus the "C-word" when the makeup artist was fuming about someone and asked Bloom's advice. "You should kick him in the cunt and tell him to fuck off!" Viggo just lost it for half an hour. He kept saying, 'What did you say?' [The bus] became all about "the word. We took that word and took all of its power away. We made it the most loving word in the world. If you were a true cunt, you were the most amazing person in the world. It was a very free-spirited bus. It came about because me and Viggo kept being moved around, and we ended up on this bus one day. And the actors were fed up and we said, "This is it. This is our home and we are not moving. If they come, tell them to go away."

And finally from Orlando's IG in 2019 (obviously, to this day, a very important part of his life):

Our fondly named makeup bus, christened by Noreen my makeup artist and Viggo Mortensen, was, and remains in my heart and memory the most female and male empowered, joyful, disreputable and yet totally respectful place of work and creativity ever. Hours spent in the the makeup chair to apply ear’s and wigs and contacts." (They can't even agree who named it, Noreen never got any credit back then...)

(From the reshoots in 2003, Viggo gives Orlando some love and points out the photo message from Orlando on the mirror. But I want to know, who put up the pic of O with Brad Pitt? From this clip.)

The comments from everyone else in the cast about life on the Cuntybago are actually more enlightening. The rowdy gang reveal another side of life on set and of Viggo: as a drinking, partying prankster who loves crude language. It's definitely part of the fascination with Viggo. He's never one to talk about these things himself.

(I think they're wearing the special cuntebago t-shirts here. No idea from whence.)

Bernard Hill:

You are not supposed to know about it!" "There were five or six of us - Viggo, Orlando and Sean [Bean]. Liv came in and out [of the group]. Viggo has this special kind of crudeness that he is capable of. We were in the same make up bus [along with Bloom]. When I came back [from a break] it was called the Cuntybago. It was our private club. We had wine tasting sessions and had lots of parties. We also kept lots of food in there. Anything that was out [on the table], you could have. You could drink it, eat it, borrow it, smoke it… but don´t go looking in any drawers. That´s where we kept our 'special stuff'! [The Cuntybago bar would on occasion open very early] like 6:30am. There were days that we needed it. [I've made life-long friends with] everybody who was in the Cuntybago. Leaving the first time was such a huge wrench. Especially because of the Cuntybago, it was like our club. Fortunately we managed to get it back for Return of the king reshoots, so ROTK was the Return of the Cuntybago. We actually drove it out onto the streets for Viggo’s farewell. Viggo didn’t know we were going to do it, and when it started moving, you should have seen his face. I kept shouting, “Cunty libre! Cunty libre!” And the bus start leaving—we were breaking free. For propriety’s sake it was called the C-Bago Club, because you couldn’t put Cunty on the call sheet. Sean Bean came in, Liv was also a part of it. As soon as I get back to England I’m going to start the C-Bago web site: Orlando will do fashion and Viggo will do current affairs. I’ll probably do gossip — you know, the social calendar. Liv will do Hollywood and Sean Bean will do the art of war. It’ll be our little corner of the world.

(Bernard & Orlando Bloom getting make-up done. Here's the green bus again.)

Elijah:

Cuntybago is an amalgamation of 'Winnebago' and Viggo Mortensen´s cuss word of choice. I've gained an appreciation of the word cunt. Negative words - the best thing is to diffuse them by using and taking the meaning away. Cunt! Cunt! It's a great, great word. Very forceful. [Viggo] became utterly fascinated with it and it became the word of the film. Their Winnebago for makeup was called the Cuntybago. I was not a part of the Cuntybago unfortunately - it was the makeup room of Orlando, Viggo and Sean Bean - but it was a lovely place to visit. Cuntybago T-shirts were made up. There was a Cunty Christmas and we had a Cunty Christmas tree, all this stuff. Cate Blanchett [who plays the elf queen Galadriel] was deemed Her Cuntliness. I think we were all secretly jealous of the Cuntybago. I was anyway. I loved the atmosphere. Any place that had Viggo in the centre was always an interesting place to be… And that was where all the alcohol was. It was just spending all of that time with brits and Aussies. The word ‘Cunt’ came up quite a lot. I was fascinated by that and how it could become not so dirty. It’s one of the few swear words that still shock people." Is that why you called Cate Blanchett “Her Cuntliness? “Not my creation. She was called that by Viggo Mortensen. I put the blame on him. It was used during the making of the movie and seems a bit silly now. Wood says that his Cuntybago T-shirt is home in a drawer. "It's too big for me. I'm a small guy."

(A few photos up on the mirror in front of Viggo. I'm guessing it's Henry on the toilet (aww!), and Viggo and Orlando doing something something... Sharing a cigarette? Extinguishing a cigarette on Viggo's tongue? It looks kind of erotic. And who's the other dude?)

Billy:

"On Lord of the rings we'd go to Viggo and Orlando's trailer which was called The Cuntybago. Viggo was good for getting Irish whiskey, which was great but I keep trying to educate him on malt whisky. (To Billy it was just V&O's trailer. Like it's where they lived together...) Hobbits, an elf, a King of Men, maybe a dwarf. And quite a few times a wizard, sometimes a princess. Ha ha! That's enough to make anyone feel pissed. We had some good times on that one, some great times."

Peter Jackson:

"The actors had a spiritual connection to it. I liked the way they had photographs [Mortensen and Bloom] taken behind-the-scenes, plastered all over the walls."

(From the reshoots, I think. Beautifully blurry.)

Liv Tyler:

I can't believe he [Mortensen] talked about that. That was our private world. There was a lot of liquor on that bus. But the funniest thing about this bus is that this thing was a beast. It was so tiny; nothing worked. If they ever washed our hair it would go from scalding hot to freezing cold. There was no heat. Our makeup trailer became the center of things. It was given a really bad name that I cannot repeat. There were pranks, most of them also too dirty to tell. I love them all, all my costars. We would hang out mostly in the hair-and-makeup trailer, and after work at dinner. We would eat all the time and drink wine and laugh.  I think that a lot of that was the friendships that we made with each other and the fact that we all needed each other. It was vital that we all had each other to survive and to be able to laugh. Everybody had a really good sense of humor, thank God. We'd be constantly making jokes and decorating the trailer with ridiculous things and being rude and that was our sort of little bubble of escape in our makeup trailer.

(Photo by Liv, in the bus. You can see all the polaroids and stuff behind the unicorn elf.)

Cate Blanchett:

Viggo is the funkiest person I've ever met. I am far too polite to . . . he had this thing he called "the cunty-bago" . . . no, I guess I shouldn't go into that. So, yeah, he's incredible, very funny.

So, I can't quite figure out which bus The Cuntybago actually is: the green one Orlando is seen exiting? Or the yellow-ish one seen in the vids from the reshoots? Because they aren't the same. And in the vid from the final day, Bernard says the bus he drove on that last day was the same they'd had "for years" and which never moved before. While Orlando said they drove The Cuntybago around "for 18 months". So which bus was it? And did they drive the bus around or not? Or was it stationary? It's a mystery.

(This is the green bus - but is it the make-up trailer? Same as in the vid with Bernard.)

(Here in the reshoots, the bus is yellow-ish? And completely different. Looks more like a Winnebago than the green one really... So which one is The Cuntybago?)

That's all I have found about this infamous, mythical place, where all the magic happened, as they say. If anyone has info to add, please do! I want this post to be comprehensive!

[bird-inacage]

Love Sea: Theory on the Presence/Absence of Family Ties

After I saw the below relationship chart, what really jumped out to me is the lack of family shown on Mut's side, compared to Tongrak's. Here is my theory on how I think family ties may play into both character's backstories and be a point of connection between them.

Considering that we spend a good portion of the story on the island - where we'll be introduced to Mahasamut's life, his community and where he comes from - the fact that he has no family identified is very surprising, and could be an indication that Mut is actually alone.

This would align with what we know about him so far. Mut offers to help anywhere he can to earn an extra buck, and takes his work as a diving guide very seriously. Possibly because he has to be self-reliant. He's also popular on the island, having made connections with those around him, more so if he doesn't have a support network at home. When you don't have your own family, you find your own. There have been implications by Fort that Mut feels lonely.

Based on MAME's writing tropes, I wouldn't be surprised if this is rooted in tragedy. Maybe his parents passed away. If my theory has any legs, Mut would understandably be upset when Tongrak is due to leave the island to return to Bangkok, and is facing the prospect he'll be left behind, alone again once more.

This would also make for a great parallel to Tongrak - who has an abundance of family in the picture. I have a feeling Tongrak has also faced difficulties on a familial level, and my hunch says there may be father/son tension explored here. There's a very quick shot of his father in the trailer, and it appears to be Mut he's looking at. His expression is somewhat antagonistic or challenging. Tongrak's worries may revolve around parental disapproval or expectation.

So in summary, Mut's insecurities could be rooted in an absence of family in his life and having to be so independent all the time. And conversely Tongrak's insecurities are exacerbated by the presence of family - perhaps casting interference or undue judgement on his life.

All predictions at this stage, but I'm eager to find out! I'd love to see Tongrak and Mahasamut identify each other as their new found family.

You can check out bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other prediction posts around Love Sea.

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You, Bucky and the brothers are having troubles understanding literally anything. And a certain Super Soldier finally confesses why he is so harsh towards you.

Warnings: Really obsessed behavior, kidnapping, mention of stalking, unwanted kiss on the cheek and some disturbing behavior (none of it towards reader or any of the main characters), blood, feeling sick and I think that’s it? -> 18+!!

Other: English isn’t my first language.

-> Masterlist

-> Part eight ; Part ten

-> Garden of Eternal Love (09)

You had been walking through the almost empty streets of Lincoln for about half an hour, just minding your business as you walked past by the very few strangers on the streets. It was late at night, probably around four in the morning, but you figured that a city like this would have more people around at this hour. Perhaps it was due to the latest disappearances that more people decided to play it safe and get home early.

You almost didn’t recognize the sound of Bucky’s bike as he stopped a few feet away from you, removing his helmet. He looked quite pissed, and he wasn’t completely wrong to feel that way. After all, it could have jeopardized the mission if the police found him there at the cemetery, alone at night, nearby a an open casket when just a few days ago someone stole a cadaver.

But what was done was done.

“Emma.” He called out, making you stop in your tracks in front of him.

“Fancy seeing you here, I thought you’d be in jail by now.” You said, causing him to roll his eyes.

With a scowl, he tossed his helmet your way and you caught it with a frown. “Get your ass on this bike, we already wasted a lot of time.” He instructed after seeing your expression.

You signed, resigned to the situation. The walk you had managed to calm your nerves, but you mentally noted to finally have a proper talk with him once you got home. There were a few questions you had to ask him, and the fact that he resented you for something you couldn’t control made no sense coming from him, who had been Hydra’s puppet for way longer than you. Not to talk about the fact that he seemed somewhat of a different person tonight, although the snarky comments were still there.

“Fine.” You mumbled, slipping the helmet over your head before swinging a leg over the bike and settling in behind Bucky.

He glanced back at you, his expression unreadable beneath the dim streetlights. “Hold on thigh. I’m not sure I’ll stop if you fall over.” He said, his tone still harsh.

“Where do I hold on to?” You asked.

“Me.” He replied.

You took a moment before forcing yourself to wrap your arm around his waist, before you heard the engine roar. Soon enough, you two were speeding in the street straight to the address Dean texted you.

* * * *

Bucky slowed the bike down as you reached an imposing iron gate, locked securely with a massive chain. As soon as he turned off engine, the only source of light disappeared, leaving you both into complete darkness once again. You could see Dean’s Impala parked not far away from the bike, though, so Dean and Sam must have found an entrance nearby.

The only sound that broke the silence was the soft crunch of Bucky’s footsteps as he navigated in the darkness, his torch casting feeble beams of light to illuminate the path. You spotted a gap in the fence, just wide enough for someone to slip through.

“Hey.” You called out, drawing Bucky’s attention. “Over here. Watch your steps.” You murmured, stepping through the opening.

Bucky followed suit, illuminating the scene before you. Despite the land having an owner, the place looked abandoned. The trees twisted and contorted in an unnatural, almost, shape and the overgrown lawn was just a tangle of weeds and thorns.

“Not even Steve’s backyard sucks this much.” You heard Bucky say, as you two started trudged along the road leading to the house.

You didn’t respond, the sudden feeling of a splitting headache made you momentarily speechless. It felt as though someone was repeatedly hammering at your skull, the pain so sharp that you had to squeeze your eyes shut and clutch at your temples.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice cut through the haze of agony, as he noticed your distress. His hand landed on your shoulder. “You alright?”

Struggling to open your eyes, you were met with a blurred vision you had never experienced before. Sure, a simple headache wasn’t uncommon for you, but this intensity was new. It felt as though your head was being crushed from within, and then, a warm liquid trickled down from your nose.

“What the-” You began, reaching up to wipe away the liquid. As your vision cleared slightly, you realized it was blood.

“You’re not dying, are you? Loki will turn me into a snail if you die.” Bucky’s attempt at humor fell flat, his concern evident beneath the dry chuckle he let out. Watching you struggle to maintain your balance, he swiftly looped an arm around your waist for support.

Your health had always been great, thanks to the fact that your blood was mixed with the Wendigo’s. You couldn’t even die if someone really tried, and many people tried over the years and yet there you were. That’s what made this sudden pain and disorientation so baffling, it was starting to feel more like something deep within you was struggling to break free. You knew it wasn’t normal, but you didn’t really try to think of what was happening when you felt like fainting.

You barely registered what Bucky was saying, the piercing sound in your ears shutting out everything else.

Bucky quickly maneuvered one of your arms around his shoulders, carrying you towards the house. The Super Soldier barely had time to watch his surroundings, but he saw a shed in the distance, not far from the house, and he did a metal check of going there later - he had a strange feeling about it.

By the time he reached the house, you were already unconscious and Bucky didn’t waste a second to pound on the door repeatedly until Sam swung it open.

“Hey, man- what’s wrong?” Sam asked worriedly, immediately helping Bucky in carrying you inside - although Bucky could have done it on his own.

“I don’t know.” The Soldier said tersely, as they laid you on the couch, and as if your pale skin wasn’t alarming enough, the nosebleed didn’t seem to stop.

With gentle but firm hands, Bucky positioned your head to prevent you chocking on your own blood, pressing a few napkins taken from the nearby coffee table against your nose to staunch the flow.

“Sam, the bathroom has this button that cleans your-” Dean began, entering in the room, but cutting himself off when he saw your figure laying on the couch. He ran to your side, looking between his brother and Bucky. “Is she dead?!” Dean’s voice rose in panic.

“No.” Bucky reassured him, checking your pulse because he wasn’t too sure himself. “She’s never been sick before. She was fine until we walked beyond the fence, it happened almost immediately. She never said anything about feeling even remotely ill today.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance that went unnoticed by Bucky since he was still focused on you. Sam approached the window, drawing back the curtains just enough to peer outside for confirmation.

“It’s the symbols on the trees.” Sam began, causing Bucky to turn his attention towards him, waiting for an explanation. “Most of them are anti- demonic symbols, made by Malcom himself probably to… ward off demoniac entities.” He looked at anything but Bucky’s eyes as he spoke.

Bucky’s frown deepened. “What does this have anything to do with her?”

“Wendigos are demonic entities.” Dean sighed. “And her blood is mixed up with theirs, which explains the sudden sickness. She was able to enter because she’s still half human; other creatures wouldn’t have that privilege.” He explained.

“She… Is she going to die? She’s losing a lot of blood.” Bucky’s concern was evident, his voice oddly soft as he kept his eyes on you.

Dean glanced down at you too, his expression wasn’t too different from his. “There are no symbols in here, she should be safe. Just give her some time.” He reassured, although his tone was worried.

“You could have said this before we came here, I would have dropped her home.” Bucky said, pissed.

“We didn’t know it would have an effect on her. She was born human, after all.” Sam let out a sight, slightly feeling guilty about your state.

Bucky clenched his jaw, tossing away the bloody napkins to get clean ones as he continued to attempt to staunch the flow of blood from your nose. “Where’s Malcom?” He asked, remember the whole reasons why he drove all the way here to the cemetery.

“Not here.” Dean sighed in frustration, sinking down onto the other side of the couch. “He vanished, just like Mrs Miller and the creature locked in her house. We’ve hit a dead end once again.”

“Why call us to come here, then? You could have given us this information back at the safe house.” Bucky muttered, shorting a glance in Dean’s direction.

Dean took a moment before answering, almost as if he was thinking of a proper answer to give.

“We don’t know if Malcom is dead or alive and we don’t know if he took a part in all this mess, so we wanted to leave things as we found them… which involves his laptop.” Sam explained immediately before Dean could respond, retrieving said laptop from the nearby table. He approached Bucky, offering him the device. “He left behind some videos, of himself, and I think you should take a look.”

Bucky turned his attention on the screen as Sam pressed play.

The footage opened immediately with a desolate yard, where Malcom’s figure moved silently. He approached a tree, where some probably homemade stairs were nailed on its trunk. Which each step he took up to what Bucky imagined was a house on the tree, the camera trembled and he could hear some noises in the background.

Finally, Malcom turned the camera towards himself, his smiling face finally on the screen. Bucky was able to see his house on the back so that must have been the backyard as he suspected.

“Hello!” Malcom greeted the camera cheerfully, waving. “Today it’s truly a wonderful day, I made a friend - Adam.” He chuckled. “He’s quite the popular guy around here, I met him at a bar downtown and everyone greeted him - that never happened to me.” Another chuckle followed. “But truth be told, I don’t really like him. He’s my future girlfriend’s boyfriend, Cassandra can’t seem to get rid of him… though I know she wants to.”

In the background, muffled screams could be heard after Malcom’s words, his smile faltering for a brief moment. “Sorry about that, that’s Rue.” He explained. “She isn’t much of a social butterfly, much like my Cassie, that’s why I brought her home.”

The camera turned to reveal a woman, her resemblance to Cassandra herself was unsettling. She was on the floor, bound and gagged, her eyes wide with terror as Malcom approached. “Say hi, Rue!” Malcom’s tone was sickeningly cheerful and Bucky decided then he was some sort of psychopath. “She’s the tenth.” Malcom continued. “Only a few more to go before I practice enough so I can take Cassie back home with me. I want our relationship to be perfect once I manage to get her to like me back, so let’s hope for the best!” He cheered. “Now I gotta go, gotta take my girl Rue on a date.”

The camera was turned off, but not before he left a kiss on Rue’s cheek.

Bucky sighed, lowering his head, processing what he just saw. “What- what did he mean?” He knew that already, but he wanted to have confirmation.

“We believe he kidnapped girls that looked like Cassandra to, as he put it , practice on how to be… a suitable partner, as stupid as it sounds, to eventually get her to like him.” Dean explained briefly. “He said she was the tenth, but there are eleven graves outside.”

“Graves?” Bucky frowned in confusion.

“Keep watching.” Sam instructed, sighing.

Bucky complied, and another video began. This time, Malcom appeared in his room, his face covered in dirt and he had his usual smile playing on his lips.

“It’s finally the day!” Malcom’s voice was laced with excitement, as he giggled. “I’m going to bring Cassie here today, everything went according to plan. She’s so, so happy, and so am I! Everyone’s just so happy today!” He moved towards the window, the camera following his gaze to the backyard where the tree with the treehouse stood. There was a sign that said ‘garden of eternal love’, even.

But it was the freshly dug pits in the ground that caught Bucky’s attention.

“Except for Rue.” Malcom giggled again, pointing to a particular pit. “I wanted to let her go but her father’s a cop, I couldn’t risk it.” His tone shifted to sadness, though Bucky sensed the insincerity. “I never laid a finger on any of those women, never harmed them. But they all seemed to hate me! And now they’re dead!” He exclaimed before taking a deep breath to calm him down after the sudden burst of anger.

“I didn’t kill them, though. I gave them a choice, and they made the wrong one.” Malcom said, the camera zooming on his face. “I am not a killer. My mommy raised me to be a good boy, and they’re closer to God this way anyways. So if anything, I did them a favor. Now, I’m gonna take Cassie home, she’s about to leave work… wish me good luck!” He bit his lower lip in excitement, waving one last time at the camera before the screen turned black.

“I’d choose the bear.” You mumbled suddenly, causing their heads to snap in your direction as you finally woke up.

“What?” Dean’s brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at you from his seat.

“Man or bear… I’d chose the bear. That’s a damn psychopath.” You muttered tiredly, forcing yourself into a sitting position. Your head was still pounding but it was slightly getting better. “I only saw the last part, tell me he didn’t record himself doing things to those women.”

“He didn’t, physical pleasure isn’t the reason he took them.” Dean reassured you. Thankfully.

“Glad to see you’re not dead.” Bucky said with what you swore was a hint of relief in his voice.

“Glad to see you didn’t leave me out there.” You said, sighing. “So what now? What do we do? We have absolutely no clue about anything and I feel like we’re making steps backward instead of forward. I even wonder why Fury sent us here; we’re spies, not FBI agents for fuck’s sake.” You exclaimed angrily, raising to your feet. You had to steady yourself against the wall to avoid falling, since your legs were weak. “And now, not only Cassandra is probably dead whether it’s because of this man or her father, but all those women are too, and we are here with empty hands - I’m this close to having a breakdown.”

Your words hung in the air, they knew you were right. Sam and and Dean fought a lot of monsters before and they solved a lot of cases on their own, but this was Hydra. And Hydra can’t be found if it doesn’t want to be found, so it made sense that they cleaned the scene - because at this point the only reasonable answer is that they were the ones to delete all the evidence. Perhaps they left Malcom’s laptop to make all the suspects fall on him.

“What now?” Sam’s tired voice cut through the tense silence. “Should we call the cops? Spread the word about those videos, Cassandra disappeared not too long ago… if the police put out an alert for a serial killer on the loose, we might scare him into making a mistake.” Sam suggested.

“No.” Dean objected immediately. “Involving the police would be drawing all the attention on Malcom, and what about Hydra?”

Sam took a deep breath nodding at his brother’s words and didn’t answer.

“Every time I think we’re getting somewhere, shit happens.” Bucky sighed, frustration evident in his tone. “Was it Michael Sawyer who kidnapped Cassandra or was it Malcom? It feels like all we have are speculations and nothing concrete. Are we even sure this is Hydra? First Tony mentioned traces of the super soldier serum in the victims, now we’re dealing with supernatural creatures? Fury doesn’t even have the decency to answer the fucking phone.”

“Midlife crisis is hitting hard.” You mumbled, earning a glare from Bucky. “Sorry, not the time… Listen, let’s do a recap with everything, alright? See if we missed something.” You suggested. “So, what do we know?”

“That Fury sent both me and Sam and you and Bucky here knowing what Hydra was doing. He paired us up because we know things about the Wendigo and you two have been in Hydra most of your lives. We know that Hydra want an army full of those creatures for their own twisted ideas, and Michael Sawyer is involved since he used to be the crazy scientist in the facility you were kept in. Also the Wendigo inside his house is not a hint we can ignore.” Dean summarized most of it.

“How did the Wendigo end up in his house? And how come it didn’t eat anyone? Are you sure you were the only one that could control it?” Sam asked, the last question was directly for you.

“Yes, when I was in there.” You nodded. “But it’s been ten years, so maybe… maybe they found someone else.”

“Or they found another way.” Bucky said.

“Or they found another way.” You repeated, agreeing with what he said. “After all, they’re capable of anything.”

“Do we still believe that the Wendigo in question is Cassandra?” Dean asked, looking at each of the people in the room.

“It’s the most logical reason. Imagine: you manage to create your own, boring life after Hydra falls and one day your daughter brings up your past. She’s a threat to you, and for the people you worked with, so you eliminate her and whoever might have a clue, which was Adam.” Sam explained his point of view, and you personally agreed with it.

“Why now? How did she even find out? And why didn’t the police investigate when she disappeared?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hydra has tons of connections, it wouldn’t be wrong to think they intervened in the investigation. After all, corrupted cops are not unusual.” Bucky suggested. “And to answer the other questions, you mentioned that Cassandra vented about her biological mother’s other daughter to Adam, and the thought of it drove her insane. I’ve been thinking, what if the woman has connections with Hydra? He disappeared for the first time when Cassandra was left on the doorstep and he kept in contact with this woman for what now? More than twenty years? Was this other child older or younger?”

“Younger.” You replied. “She should be in her mid-twenties now. William has been texting me details he keeps remembering. But this girl in question isn’t Michael’s daughter, so technically they’re half sisters. Why would she be so mad about it?”

“Because Sawyer kept this part of her life private. I was angry at the world too when I found out that our father had another son with someone who wasn’t our mother, and he was more present in his life than ours. He left me and Sammy starving in motel rooms while he brought our half-brother to baseball games. I wanted to kill him; it was the very first time I genuinely wanted to hurt my father and the kid he chose over us.” Dean said, sharing a part of his and Sam’s life neither you or Bucky knew anything about.

His head low as he spoke. “Cassandra was left on Mrs Miller’s doorstep before she could even walk, and then years later she found out that her biological mother was asking about the other daughter and not her.“ Dean finished.

“It would make a lot of sense to think that she wanted to find out more about her biological mother, digging in her father’s past. Which eventually led her to find about Hydra and what her father did to people during the time he was away.” Sam said, sitting on the couch beside Dean.

“Another reason to think this woman has ties with Hydra too.” Bucky added, reaffirming his previous point.

“This makes sense, actually.” You acknowledged, registering the things they said. “And what about Malcom? Was Cassandra just too unlucky to be caught between a rock and a hard place? On one hand, a psychopath obsessed with her who kidnaps women, and on the other, another psychopath who’s a part of a terrorist organization that kidnaps people.”

“But then again…” Bucky let out a heavy sigh. “These are speculations. Whether it makes sense or not, concretely what do we have? Almost nothing.”

You bit your lower lip, then turned to Sam and Dean. “Did you two check the whole place? Maybe there’s something around here. At least to know if it was Malcom who took Cassandra or not.”

“Except for a few creepy things upstairs, the house is normal. No signs of fights, hidden doors or blood. Absolutely nothing. Everything’s just dirty, but I don’t think the guy’s first thought was cleaning the house.” Dean replied.

“What about the shed outside?” Bucky suggested. “I saw it when I was bringing her in after she gracefully passed out.” He pointed at you, and you rolled your eyes at the remark.

“Uh… is there a shed outside?” Dean raised a brow, clearly unaware of it.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, his annoyance evident. Understandably. Malcom was nowhere to be found in his house and who said he wasn’t hiding there?

“We’ll go to check.” Sam said, hitting his brother lightly on the shoulder.

“I’ll come with you.” You proposed, though you weren’t feeling much better than before. The headache persisted, and you had a bloody taste in your mouth, but at least now it was manageable.

“No. You sit your ass back down.” Bucky sternly said.

“No.” You protested.

“It’s better if you stay here.” Sam backed Bucky up, rising from the couch ready to get out and see what both him and Dean had missed.

“What? Why?” You asked, frowning in confusion.

“We’ll explain later, Em, but I really don’t like the idea of you dying.” Dean explained cryptically, his words leaving you more confused that before. He wasn’t making any sense.

Bucky moved to join the brothers, but Dean halted him. “When Sam said ‘you’, he meant both of you. Have fun while we’re away, kids.” He remarked with a good smile, before leaving with Sam and closing the door behind them.

“I hate those two.” Bucky grunted, sinking further on the couch.

“They’re not so bad.” You shrugged. “They just don’t make sense sometimes. I heard them talk about stopping an apocalypse once. Weird, isn’t it?” You chuckled at the absurdity.

Bucky looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “You do realize a God, specifically your best buddy, tried to conquer Earth just to get back at his brother, right? What makes you think other Gods aren’t as bad? If we’re even talking about Gods here.”

“I’m not really an expert in Gods’ behavior, James, I only know two. One has murderous instincts after every minor inconvenience and the other one is frightened by lizards. Nothing really makes sense here.” You shrugged. “And Loki isn’t bad once you get to know him.”

“Didn’t he try to turn you into a lizard because he knew you’d run to Thor and Thor would embarrass himself in front of everyone?” He reminded you, emphasizing Loki’s nature. He wasn’t close to the God of Mischief, but he knew you were. For some reason.

“Everyone has issues.” You said, shrugging, trying to rationalize Loki’s actions. Not that he ever did anything against your consent, you did actually think that his idea was funny. “Besides, he was the only one decent enough to not treat me as some kind of outcast when I joined the team.”

“Nobody treated you as such, I was there.” Bucky countered.

“You did.” You reminded him. “I’m not saying they weren’t kind. But they never tried to- listen, it’s not the place to talk about it. Everything’s in the past, so let’s just wait for Sam and Dean to get back so we can go home.”

Bucky didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on you as you settled down on the other side of the couch. “How are you feeling?” He asked with genuine concern in his voice.

You met his gaze before replying. “Better than before.” You shrugged. “Thank you for not leaving me out there by the way.”

“Why? Would you have done it?”

“No.” You answered honesty, shaking your head. “But I don’t have a burning hatred for you.”

Bucky looked away for a moment. “It’s not like the reason why I don’t like you is an excuse, Emma. And I already said I’m trying to be better. You- you didn’t even apologize to me, not once ever since we met again.” The last part was almost murmured, and you could sense some frustration.

“Met again? What does that even mean?” You scoffed. “And you keep acting as if I had a choice. You never held Wanda or Pietro accountable for actually joining Hydra willingly, so why me?” You demanded, desperate to have some answers. “What have I done to you? Why do I need to apologize?”

Bucky bit his lower lip, struggling to find the right words. “Wanda and Pietro never brought me back to Hydra when I finally managed to escape.” He confessed, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression and your frown deepened. “You did.” He finally said.

… what?

[soulofapatrick]

Everything to me - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader 

Summary: You return to Beacon Hills after being away for a year

Words 2.1K

Warnings: none 

Y/N's POV

As I drive up the narrow, winding trail to the newly rebuilt Hale House, my heart pounds in my chest with a force that feels almost supernatural in its intensity. The familiar landscape of Beacon Hills blurs past the windows, and each turn of the wheel brings me closer to a confrontation I've been dreading for the past year. The supernatural world that once fascinated me had become a nightmare, and the war with the hunters left scars deeper than any physical wound. The most significant of those scars is the bite I received, a mark of the werecoyote now a part of me. The fear of rejection, of being an outcast in the pack I once called family, gnaws at me relentlessly.

Leaving without a word, without a goodbye, was the hardest decision I've ever made. I remember the night vividly, the moon high in the sky, casting eerie shadows as I slipped away. I couldn’t bear to see the confusion, the hurt, in their eyes. I didn’t want to face their questions or their possible rejection. So, I ran. Chicago became my refuge, its bustling streets and unfamiliar faces a strange comfort. An old family friend helped me regain control over my new werecoyote side, teaching me to harness my abilities and temper the beast within. But no amount of control can temper the anxiety coursing through me now as I approach the Hale House.

The mansion looms ahead, a testament to the resilience of my friends. Its imposing structure is both a symbol of strength and a reminder of everything I left behind. As I park the car and cut the engine, the silence is deafening. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white with tension. I sit there for a moment, trying to steady my breathing, but the mix of anticipation and fear swirls within me like a storm.

What if they don’t want me back? The question haunts me, each scenario playing out in my mind. I picture Lydia’s disappointment, Scott’s silent judgment, the pack turning their backs on me. What if I’ve been replaced, my absence a void too painful to fill? What if they see me as a traitor, someone who abandoned them in their time of need? The thought is almost too much to bear, and for a moment, I consider turning the car around and fleeing once more. But I can’t. I need to face them, to face the consequences of my actions.

I barely have time to unbuckle my seatbelt before a high-pitched squeal pierces the air. Lydia’s voice. I turn just in time to see her racing towards me, her red hair a bright streak against the backdrop of the mansion. The next moment, I’m nearly knocked off my feet as she collides with me, her arms wrapping around me in a hug that’s as fierce as it is unexpected. My arms come up automatically, hugging her back, and a wave of relief washes over me. Oh god, I’ve missed my best friend.

Over Lydia’s shoulder, I see the others emerging from the house, their faces a mix of shock, curiosity, and wariness. I know what they must be thinking. I left without a word, disappearing into the night like a ghost. I see the questions in their eyes, the unspoken accusations. But there’s something else too—a glimmer of hope, of welcome. Maybe, just maybe, I haven’t lost them entirely.

A sharp sting on my cheek snaps me back to the present, and I wince as Lydia pulls back, her glare intense enough to make me squirm. “What the hell were you thinking? Leaving like that!” Her voice is a mix of anger and relief, and I can’t blame her for either emotion.

“I—” I start to explain, but the words catch in my throat. How do I explain the fear, the desperation that drove me away? Before I can find the words, Scott steps forward, sweeping me into a hug. His embrace is strong and comforting, a silent promise that he’s still here for me. He murmurs something into my hair, but I can’t make out the words. It doesn’t matter. The fact that he’s holding me, accepting me, is enough.

Scott finally releases me, holding me at arm’s length, and my gaze shifts to the figure standing on the porch steps. Stiles. The one person who knew where I was, who called me every night to make sure I was okay. Those calls were my lifeline, a beacon of hope in the darkness. We shared secrets, fears, and feelings we never dared to voice before. His sleep-filled voice was my anchor, and now, seeing him in person, my heart aches with the need to close the distance between us.

Scott finally releases me, holding me at arm’s length, and my gaze shifts to the figure standing on the porch steps. Stiles. The one person who knew where I was, who called me every night to make sure I was okay. Those calls were my lifeline, a beacon of hope in the darkness. Every night, no matter what, we would talk. It didn’t matter if it was a late-night shift for him or a sleepless night for me. We never missed a call.

Each full moon was a torment. The change would ripple through me, and the urge to succumb to the primal urges of the werecoyote was overwhelming. But Stiles was always there. On those nights, he would stay on the line for hours, his voice a soothing presence. He’d tell me about everything happening in Beacon Hills—the latest supernatural drama, mundane school gossip, even funny anecdotes about his day. He had a way of making me feel like I was still a part of their world, even from hundreds of miles away.

“I wish you were here,” I would whisper into the phone, my voice trembling as the moon’s influence grew stronger.

“I know,” he’d reply softly, his voice laced with the same longing I felt. “Just hang on, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

His words were like a balm, easing the pain and fear that came with each transformation. Stiles kept me anchored, his presence—albeit virtual—a lifeline I clung to desperately. He’d talk me through the worst of it, his voice a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone, that someone cared deeply for me.

But talking on the phone is one thing; seeing him in person now, standing just a few feet away, is another entirely. My heart races as I take a step closer, memories of our late-night conversations flooding my mind. The anxiety that had been a constant companion for the past year now mingles with a different kind of nervousness—the fear that the connection we shared over the phone might not translate to reality.

“Excuse me, Scotty,” I mutter, gently wriggling out of Scott’s grip. I take a cautious step towards Stiles, my heart pounding even harder. He stands there, fidgeting nervously, his eyes darting away when they meet mine. His uncertainty mirrors my own, but beneath it, I see the same longing, the same hope that kept us connected all those nights.

“Stiles,” I whisper his name as I stop in front of him, my voice trembling. He looks up, his eyes searching mine, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us. I see the worry, the fear of rejection, mirrored in his gaze, but also the unwavering affection that has always been there.

“Hi,” he says softly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit I’ve come to recognise. The sight makes my heart swell with affection, and I can’t hold back any longer. I reach out, my hands gently cupping his face, forcing him to look at me.

Scott finally releases me, holding me at arm’s length, and my gaze shifts to the figure standing on the porch steps. Stiles. The one person who knew where I was, who called me every night to make sure I was okay. Those calls were my lifeline, a beacon of hope in the darkness. Every night, no matter what, we would talk. It didn’t matter if it was a late-night shift for him or a sleepless night for me. We never missed a call.

Each full moon was a torment. The change would ripple through me, and the urge to succumb to the primal urges of the werecoyote was overwhelming. But Stiles was always there. On those nights, he would stay on the line for hours, his voice a soothing presence. He’d tell me about everything happening in Beacon Hills—the latest supernatural drama, mundane school gossip, even funny anecdotes about his day. He had a way of making me feel like I was still a part of their world, even from hundreds of miles away.

“I wish you were here,” I would whisper into the phone, my voice trembling as the moon’s influence grew stronger.

“I know,” he’d reply softly, his voice laced with the same longing I felt. “Just hang on, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

His words were like a balm, easing the pain and fear that came with each transformation. Stiles kept me anchored, his presence—albeit virtual—a lifeline I clung to desperately. He’d talk me through the worst of it, his voice a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone, that someone cared deeply for me.

But talking on the phone is one thing; seeing him in person now, standing just a few feet away, is another entirely. My heart races as I take a step closer, memories of our late-night conversations flooding my mind. The anxiety that had been a constant companion for the past year now mingles with a different kind of nervousness—the fear that the connection we shared over the phone might not translate to reality.

“Excuse me, Scotty,” I mutter, gently wriggling out of Scott’s grip. I take a cautious step towards Stiles, my heightened senses picking up every detail. The scent of his anxiety is sharp, mingling with the familiar notes of his cologne and the underlying scent that is uniquely his. But there’s something else, something deeper—an intoxicating mix of love and need that almost makes me dizzy.

“Stiles,” I whisper his name as I stop in front of him, my voice trembling. He looks up, his eyes searching mine, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us. I can practically taste the tension in the air, feel the electric pull between us. His eyes, a rich cognac colour, are filled with a mixture of fear and hope, mirroring my own emotions.

“Hi,” he says softly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit I’ve come to recognise. The sight makes my heart swell with affection, and I can’t hold back any longer. I reach out, my hands gently cupping his face, forcing him to look at me. His skin is warm under my touch, a comforting reminder that this is real.

“I meant everything I said,” I tell him, my voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes widen, and before I can say anything else, he’s moving. His hands grip my shirt, pulling me towards him, and then his lips are on mine.

The kiss is desperate, needy, but it’s perfect. It’s everything I’ve been longing for. His lips are soft yet insistent, moving against mine with a fervour that sends shivers down my spine. I can taste the salt of his tears mingling with our kiss, and it breaks something open inside me. My heightened senses pick up every nuance—the rapid beat of his heart, the warmth of his breath, the faint scent of mint on his lips. It’s overwhelming and beautiful, a sensory overload that drowns out everything else.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he responds in kind, his hands tangling in my hair, holding me as if afraid I might disappear again. The world fades away, and all that exists is the two of us, locked in this embrace, sharing a kiss that speaks of everything we’ve been through and everything we hope for.

“I love you,” he breathes against my lips, his voice raw with emotion. Tears blur my vision, but I smile, whispering the words back to him. “I love you too.” 

In this moment, with Stiles in my arms and the pack around us, I know I’m finally home. Werecoyote or not, nothing will ever tear us apart again.

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@alexxavicry @guacam011y @fandom-princess-forevermore

[1starqi]

So Let's Go See The Stars

genre: fluff, making you feel single

warnings: barely proofread, sappy, they kiss like twice

pairing: mark x reader

word count: 629

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Now Playing: So let's go see the stars

It’s a restless night under the clear, starry sky. After missing the rainstorm that blew through and hours of tossing and turning, you steal your resolve. You tiptoe around your room, grabbing your necessities. In your pockets are a strawberry chapstick, headphones, and your phone in its baby blue case. Around your waist is a lightweight raincoat that does little more than break the wind. You double-check for your glasses, finding them right where they’re supposed to be, perched upon your nose bridge.

You creep down the old, creaky, carpeted stairs that face your red front door and tentatively turn the golden knob. The floorboards creak beneath you, but your parents and siblings are far past asleep. You step out onto the dark street, lit by episodic lamps that cast a dim orange hue across the street.

You text the one person you wouldn’t mind not being left alone by.

<<can’t sleep, walking around>>

The gray icon of him typing back appears almost immediately despite the late hour.

<<i’ll be right there. our spot?>>

You type out on the keys, the Y, the E, and the S.

“Mark?” You call out softly into the dark where a figure, approximately his height approaches you. You know it’s him because of his stride and the visible white logo on his sneakers that reflects the minimal light from the street lamps above.

“I’m here.” His familiar voice comforts your brief uncertainty. You wordlessly meet him and start walking the direction he came with him. This isn’t routine, but your relationship grows stronger in each other's silent company. 

He puts a comforting arm around your shoulder as you lean into him, and you feel the occasional rub of your shoulder. He breaks the silence of the humid night. “I was hoping I could walk with you, even if just for a minute.” He confesses quietly. “This feels like a scene from a movie, right?” He’s referencing the faint stars that glimmer above your heads.

You think for a minute before deciding to tease. He doesn’t mind the silence. “I’ll be the smart, attractive, kind main character, and you’ll be…” You pretend to think, “My loyal best friend? My charming love interest?” This is your ulterior motive, flustering him.

“I could be.” You can hear his breath hitch in his chest from your proximity. “I don’t know if I exactly fit charming, but I could be your love interest.”

“Promise you’re serious?” You ask faintly.

“Serious as I can be.” He’s fidgeting with the sleeve of the wrinkled shirt you threw on before you left the house. A firefly blinks in front of you. It’s the first one of the summer.

“I’d let you be my love interest.” You tell him, burying yourself a little further in his side, waiting for his response.

“Would you let me kiss you?” His sentence is abrupt, but the answer comes easy to you.

He turns to face you, “Yes.” Your lips and his tenderly meet under the streetlamp, it’s slow and perfect. You hook your arms together behind his neck to pull him closer. He kisses you like you’re the only thing he’s ever missed, and maybe you are.

When your lips break through heavy breathing, you smile up at him and pull a case out of your pocket. 

“I have the perfect song for this.” You grin, and he takes a wireless bud in his hand and sticks it in his earring-clad ear. You put the other in yours and press play. 

“I didn’t know how much I missed you.” He mumbles against your lips as the first drum line hits. Void of word, you push your lips back into his

“Sunsets, it's full of dreams. 

So, let's go, see the stars right now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ramble: it's a gorgeous rainy night and i was listening to bnd bc i looveee them (wish i could write for them but i just dk their personalities yet) and figured this is a good song for a songfic

[https-milo]

the baker's daughter - lunch!

synopsis Y/n L/n works at a small bakery owned by her parents. One day, a pro hero in training shows up asking for 400 cupcakes

Chapter 3 - lunch!

prev. / m. list / next

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"Well what're we waiting for? I ask with a giggle. Todoroki nods and the two of us walk into the restaurant. We stand by the hostess podium for a couple minutes before someone comes to us.

"Hello, table for two?" She asks. She had her eyes locked on Todoroki, not even bothering to look at me. I shift uneasily where I stand.

"Yes," he simply answers. The hostess nods and grabs two menus before leading us to a table with two chairs. I take a seat and Todoroki does the same.

"Someone will be here soon to take your order," the worker says. Todoroki nods and opens his menu. Though I can tell he already knew what he wanted.

"Do you know what you want?" Todoroki asked.

I nodded, "Mak-guksu." The thought of the meal alone was enough to make my mouth water.

His eyes lit up, "I was planning on that too. Is it your favorite?"

"Oh definitely! It's so good," I replied.

"It's my favorite too," Todoroki smiled softly.

"Look at us twinning!" I laughed. We sit in silence for a minute. "What's it like training to be a hero?"

"it can be stressful, but I think it'll be worth it. What's it like being quirkless?" Todoroki asked.

"It's weird. You know you grow up in a world where everyone around you has some sort of quirk and you're just a nobody. You start to feel bad," I shrug. "I got over my FOMO though, I don't care anymore. I was born this way, there was nothing I could've done to get a quirk."

Todoroki hummed in acknowledgement, lacking the words to reply. I was used to that, any quirk user I talked to got awkward when it came to talking about quirks. They thought I was fragile and emotional when I came to the subject, but really that was more of a struggle for my dad. The waitress came back with a small notepad in her hand.

"Good afternoon! I'm Hana and I'll be your waitress today," she greeted. Much like the hostess, her eyes were locked on Todoroki. She didn't even glance in my direction. I cross my arms subconsciously from insecurity. "Can I get you started with any drinks?"

"Yes, I'll have the green tea and she'll have the..." Todoroki answered he trailed off for me to answer.

"[Favorite Drink], please," I added. The Hana's eyes look briefly in my direction. Her lips tugged into a smirk as she tried holding back her laugh.

"Anything else?" She asks.

"Yes, we're ready to order," Todoroki said. I nodded in agreement, but the waitress wasn't looking at me.

"Great, what will you be having?"

"Two orders of mak-guksu," Todoroki answered.

Hana nodded and wrote our order on her notepad. "I'll be back out with your drinks."

Todoroki nods and turns his attention over to me. His look alone was enough to make me self-conscious, but I don't know why. "Are you ok?" He asked.

"Did you see the way she looked at me?" I ask as I play with my hair.

"I wasn't really paying attention," Todoroki honestly said. I nod and we start a simple conversation.

"We took a trip to the USJ a little bit ago. When we got there, we were swarmed with villains," Todoroki said.

"That's horrible, I'm sorry that happened to you," I replied with a frown. I reached over and placed a comforting hand on his own which was stationary on the table.

"It wasn't too bad, most of the students were alright. Our teacher and fellow staff members were the true victims. Aizawa-sensei was in a full-body cast for days," Todoroki added.

"Either way, you are still just a kid. Villains shouldn't be attacking your school trips," I say. He nods.

Hana returns with our drinks in her hands. She gently placed Todoroki's green tea on the table before she turned to face me. As she placed my [Favorite Drink] on the table, her hand swiped it and knocked it over, spilling it all over my outfit. "Dude!" I say loudly, but not loud enough to be a shout.

"oh my, I'm so sorry," Hana said without a trace of remorse in her tone. Todoroki picks up on her lack of concern and glances at her with annoyance.

"Where's your bathroom?" I ask.

"Over there," Hana said as she pointed. I borderline stomp my way over to the bathroom, annoyance evident on my face. I slam open the bathroom door and let myself in, heading to the sinks and grabbing paper towels.

"Stupid freaking waitress..." I grumbled angrily. "Can't even pretend to be sorry." I wipe and pat down my clothes and skin, getting the excess liquid off my body. I walk out of the bathroom and see Todoroki waiting for me just outside the door.

"We're leaving," Todoroki simply said. His voice was even and neutral, but I could tell something irked him.

"Ok, why?" I ask. The two of us made our way out of the restaurant.

"I didn't like how she disrespected you. When you left to the bathroom, she asked for my number and started insulting you," Todoroki explained.

"Oh. I figured," I said. "It was kinda obvious she didn't like me, her attention was on you the whole time."

"I didn't think she'd insult you to my face though. I'm sorry for the way you were treated, you didn't deserve that," Todoroki said.

"it's not your fault, Todo. I'm a big girl, I can handle myself. Trust me, she's lucky I didn't start fighting her," I laughed.

"I'll take you home now and we can go out for lunch some other time, if you'd like," Todoroki said.

I nodded, though I was slightly disappointed our day would end. He looked at me for a second before looking away. Both of us wanted to continue hanging out, but neither of us wanted to say something. We walked in silence to the bakery. "Bye, Todoroki."

"Goodbye, L/N," Todoroki replied. My heart ached as I closed the door behind me. He walked away, unknowingly having that same aching feeling in his chest.

"You're home early," Mom said. She had just walked out of the kitchen and stood behind the counter, the bell above the entry door probably gave away my presence.

"The waitress didn't like me and spilled my drink all over my outfit," I say dully. Mom just hummed.

"Well, go change. Maybe take a nap too," Mom replied. She walked over to me and gave me a quick side hug.

"Right. Goodnight, mom," I said.

"Goodnight, Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow," she placed. Kiss on the side of my head and let me walk off. I trudged my way to my room. I changed out of my soiled clothes and put on pajamas instead. My phone dinged and I looked at the notification. It was a message from Todoroki.

My heavy heart became lighter as I thought about what Saturday would bring. I hoped it would be better than today. But either way, I was excited to be spending time with Todoroki.

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Thank you so much for reading <3