#(which would devastate me if it turns out to be the case)

[c4tluver02]

full machine

wc: 1.3k

summary: Steve is finding it hard to make it up to you, seemingly making things worse. What could he do to make it up to you?

warnings: none! angst , hurt , slow burn ;)

a/n: eee i am so glad u guys liked the first fic !!!! i am also doing a tag list so pls lmk if u want to be tagged for the third part :D

part 1, part 2, part 3

I'll heal eventually, but faster if you're next to me. ♫

Two weeks have come and gone since Steve had last seen you. Normally you take a week and a half to two weeks to return the film… Not that Steve kept track or anything. But he was waiting for you. He needed to talk to you about your last visit and hopefully explain himself. 

A few days after it all happened Robin was back with Steve at Family Video and he told her everything that had happened. The way you so graciously offered to help him, to the way you left like there was some bomb that Steve didn’t know about. It was just another thing he had to deal with, one more dent in his beat up armor. Which when he really took time to think about it maybe he was saving you. It felt like a waste of a charity case for you to spend all this time to get to know him when there's nothing to stay for. You were worth more than that– you deserve more than having to deal with all the trauma he has or listening to how hard it is putting on a brave face for the kids. 

So a rehearsed speech is what felt safe. A simple way of telling you to run and don't look back but in a way that wouldn't hurt you any further. It was killing two birds with one stone really, you wouldn't be stuck with him and he wouldn't feel devastated when you left. A full proof plan. 

– 

Although Steve would have appreciated a day or two more to think over his plan but here you were the next day. Waiting at the counter in the prettiest sundress Steve thinks he's ever seen. Your hair is curled perfectly and the closer he gets to the counter the more he can smell your perfume– so sweet and warm. 

“Hi, you're back!” It comes out casual but Steve's heart is thumping so loud he worries if you could hear it. 

“Yeah I have a movie to return.” You say sliding it across the counter to him. The barely there smile you gave did nothing to heal him. 

Steve wants to blame the lack of time he had to prepare for how he stands there just looking at you. The day he normally waits for is now here and it isn't going how it's supposed to. Your big smile is nowhere to be found and the laugh that makes his dreaded thoughts go away isn't heard.

“Y’look real pretty.” He's typing the movie into the system, not even looking at you as he says it but you know it's sincere. Everything about Steve is sincere, you've never known him to think too little about someone. 

You’re unable to stop your cheeks flushing at the complement. “Thanks, I’m about to go on a date.” 

Steve thinks he could have gotten whiplash at how fast he just turned his head to look at you. Here you are in his store all dolled up for someone else. He must have done something dreadfully awful in his past life to deserve this. 

“A date huh? With who?” The tape is long forgotten and Steve has his arms holding himself up on the counter in case the answer wipes him out completely. 

“A guy I met at the pool.” You feel like you're in the police station with a bright light on you. The interrogation feeling completely uncalled for after he was the one who turned you down. 

Steves thankful he was holding himself up, the thought of you in a bathing suit and some guy snatching you up was good enough to make him feel sick. He knows how men work. He's a man for crying out loud. He’ll use you for a hook up and you’ll feel even worse and because of Steve's stupid screw up you won't come to him for help. 

“Y’sure that he's not some douche that wants a hookup?” Steve asks, tilting his head to the side. He just wants you to rethink this, maybe stay with him and talk things through. You’ll leave happier and Steve will feel better. 

But if looks could kill he’d be dead on spot. “Thanks for your concern Steve but despite what you may think, guys actually like me and want to go out with me. So if I'm all good I've gotta go.” You grab your bag and head towards the door before he even has time to respond. It's quick and painful like someone shot him, the wound would be felt for weeks. 

–

And Steve was right. He had gotten no sleep, his nightmares were long and horrific. Nothing was helping him and there was no one he could turn to. The dark bags under his eyes were matching evidence of it. Robin came over one day to try to help but nothing came of it. If he could talk to you now he’d explain everything. That the kids come crying to him 6 out of 7 days of the week, Jonathan and Nancy use him as a dating advice counselor more than a friend, Robin needs reassurance that she's not messing Vickie up with her night terrors. It's all too much and Steve doesn't know where you’d fit into it. Why’d you even want to fit into it? He’s been doing it for years and still doesn't have a hang of it, the notion of you leaving from the first sight of wreckage would be the thing that ends Steve.  

An idea Robin had was to take all the kids to get ice cream to ‘get his mind right’ as she put it. So he made it happen, sure it was 11pm on a Saturday night but if anyone knows that no one sleeps it’s Steve. All the kids were down to come out and enjoy a nice free ice cream night. It was getting hotter and even though the sun was long gone the ice cream still melted fast. 

“You look awful.” Mike says licking his ice cream from the cone. Steve asked for them all to get cups in hopes his car isn't ruined but none of them did so they are finishing it outside. 

“I know. I haven't left my place in days.” Normally Steve wouldn't let the kids even see him like this let alone tell them how depressed he's been. 

“You ever think about just going to her place and saying you're sorry?” Now it’s Dustin asking but the ice cream is leaking through the bottom of the cone getting all over his shoes. 

“Where do you think between all this I just got her address?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes. Maybe children wasn't the best to bring this up to. 

“Well you have her address in your system, you have it for anyone who rents movies.” Max adds. 

“That sounds very stalkerish.” Okay yeah this definitely isn't something he should be talking about with the kids. 

“What you need is a big gesture to show her you care. Going out of your way to her is the type of thing that will at the very least get you a conversation with her.” Dustin says. He’s not wrong. Unless you pretend to not hear the doorbell ring or the knock on the door a conversation would definitely be in order. 

The conversion ends there and Steve drops each kid off at their house. Not wanting them to be out too late, there's still hope to save their sleep schedule. 

He wants to call Rob to see if this is just a case of Steve being around kids too much or if she thinks this could actually work. Either way he knows she won't judge him for it but it's too late to ask now. Just something that will have to be held off for tomorrow when she finally sees him at work. Maybe, hopefully, tonight instead of seeing the Creel house in his dreams, he'll see you.

tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams

[keepmovingbuckley]

ok im back on my shit so hear me out for ONE SECOND. lower ur tomatoes for a bit, you can boo me at the end

the last alarm isnt horrible. its bad, yes but not atrociously horrible. if it were a longer than 40minutes episode, it wouldn't have been this bad. sure, killing off a main character is a shit kove in the first place but making his funeral episode about a b plot turned a plot is worse.

its missing a lot is scene, the off-screenification for this one is WILD. imagine instead of shit hot pile of garbage we got a longer episode. lets say we cant undo the actual problem (killing off bobby) but we could've gotten(and tbf i feel like writing fics about these myself):

athena's case about the dead kid to reflect HER grief (not ours btw, which was probably the main idea of it anyway but it came across at a jab at us). it wasnt bad by itself but very poorly executed.

chim's regrets and anger, actually see him on that run. how he got on that roof. show us that scene where he called for bobby's body to be released. i just know he DIDN'T keep it together.

buck's therapy sessions that turned him into this non-buck like figure that this episode portrayed. or even better he'd internalise it and NOT go to therapy at all and thats how he gets so robotic. he's shoving everything deep inside.

eddie's shock. we already didnt get a scene with him finding out, so at least, if he's THIS LATE to LA, WHY is he this late. no money? problems with his parents? chris? he's moving in slowmotion, hes devastated for not being there yet talks about scones.

ravi was ready to become a criminal for them. its his first funeral like this, he's trying to keep it together by asking eddie about the funerals he attented. extend that fuckass scene.

hen is so... weirdly uplifted. fine, but why? for someone who almost nearly died too, whose captain died she acts weird. could've given us a scene where she goes the "live for the one that saved u"

geralt wouldn't have been this bad if he had less screen time. he was also hurting, he tried to make them not feel better but understand he's not there to replace bobby. EVER. so by expanding everyone else's screentime, his wouldn't be so annoying.

the last alarm had bad writing because of all the scenes that are missing. its everything happening off screen that makes it shit. bc if you expand it, it would solve some problems.

i liked it bc i filled in scenes in my head when i watched it live but im pretty sure i cant rewatch it or my rating would go significantly lower.

you can get ur tomatoes now. also i did ramble a lot and might repeated myself but im not rereading this is emotional rant typing not prose

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Accent

Requested Here!

Pairing: (platonic) Tim Bradford x fem!Cybertronian!reader ; (romantic) Hot Rod x fem!Cybertronian!reader

Summary: You're shy, so when Tim Bradford sees you interact with one of your fellow Autobots, he's confused. Before he and Lucy learn that Hot Rod is more than a comrade, he wonders why you aren't so open with him.

Warnings: fluff!

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“You missed a turn.”

Ignoring Tim Bradford, who is currently a bit too comfortable in the driver’s seat of your alt mode, you continue driving. He may be from Los Angeles, but you were quite literally born to drive. You know where you’re going, and you refuse to let him get under your armor plates.

For as long as you can, at least.

“Lucy wants to know if you have any friends who would be willing to lend out their alt mode for an afternoon to mess with our- her friend, Aaron,” Tim says, reading something on his phone.

“Maybe,” you murmur as you turn. “I can ask.”

“Don’t bother,” Tim replies. “She’s just trying to get close to you.”

“Is that a problem?” you inquire.

“No.”

“Then why shouldn’t I bother?”

“Lucy isn’t even supposed to know who you are. Who barges into someone else’s garage without any notice?”

“You’re not supposed to know who I am, either,” you remind him. “You’re not supposed to know I exist.”

“But I do know. And you like that I know.”

Your chassis rattles as you grumble, and Tim smiles at your soft reply to his teasing. For a robot, you experience a multitude of emotions, he thinks, and it seems incredibly easy to make you shy away from him. Though he knows there are more like you - more Cybertronians, more aliens - in Los Angeles, he doubts they are as shy as you. Not that he’s given extensive thought to robot attitudes, though.

“Remind me how we met,” Tim requests smugly.

“Bring it up one more time and I’m going to transform on the 405 and throw you into traffic,” you threaten. 

“There it is,” Tim sighs, smiling at your outburst.

“Sorry,” you add, softer. “Yes, you stole my alt mode. It was embarrassing. Do you need something other than to make me miserable?”

“Maybe,” Tim admits. “Lucy and I may have to go undercover again. Butler and Sava got themselves tangled up in a chop shop.”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Let me know.”

“... and then he said that if a girl drives a car worth more than his, he can’t justify giving her his number,” Lucy rambles as you drive down an empty desert highway.

“Devastating,” Tim deadpans.

“I’m just saying,” Lucy continues, exasperated. “People like the price tags on cars nearly as much as the car itself. Why do you think Jake and Sava stole an Aston Martin?”

“Aston Martin?” you repeat. “One-77? Red?”

“Yeah,” Tim answers. “How’d you know?”

“Don’t tell me it’s one of your friends,” Lucy pleads.

“No. They might have done us a favor,” you answer.

“They, uh… they wrecked it.”

“Then they definitely did us a favor,” you add, revving the engine as you speed up.

“You’re offering yourself up to be stolen?” Optimus asks, leaning against a metal pole in the abandoned warehouse. “Again?”

“Okay, I didn’t offer myself up the first time,” you argue. “That was an accident.”

“And you’re lucky a competent officer was standing by to recover you,” Tim interjects.

“We didn’t realize that the car our doppelgangers stole was a robot,” Lucy tells Optimus. “Sorry.”

“No loss for us,” Optimus assures her. “And I hear Knockout will make a full recovery. If he can survive the taunting he faces for being not only stolen but wrecked by humans. The problem now is that his criminal comrades will want to enact revenge.”

“So, we have to work a case and keep evil robots at bay. Great,” Tim exclaims.

“We’ll handle the Decepticons,” you correct. “But if these car thieves look like you, there is a chance you will be targeted.”

“Which is why someone must stay with the humans,” Optimus instructs.

Bumblebee lifts his servo, but you shake your head at him.

“Optimus,” you begin softly, avoiding looking at Tim. “I’d like to stay with Tim and Lucy. If they want protection, of course.”

“We do,” Lucy answers immediately. “We’ll take anything you can offer. Yes, please.”

Optimus lowers his arms, standing as he agrees. You follow him out of the building and into the bright sun. Two cars reflect the light as they approach. Moving between Bumblebee and Tim, you prepare to fight until you notice the paint job on the expensive Lamborghini drifting in the sand.

You raise your hand to show TIm that everything is fine, then follow your Autobot compatriots to greet the approaching cars. The Lamborghini transforms as he rolls to a stop, throwing an arm over your shoulder. You turn toward him, raising your battle mask as you hide against him.

“Bonjour, ma chérie,” he greets, tapping his digits along your back plate.

“Who is that?” Tim asks Lucy, watching you.

“I haven’t seen him before,” she answers. “But you won’t let me meet everybody.”

“I don’t even know them all, Lucy. They trust me, and I’m not going to jeopardize that.”

Your laughter draws his attention away again, and Tim’s jaw tightens as he watches you accept the Lamborghini’s affection.

“I thought she was shy,” he grumbles.

“She is,” Lucy insists.

“Have you ever seen her act like that?” Tim asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

“TIm, she knows these guys. It’s different.”

“Then why would she prefer to ignore me? She ever greet you with a laugh and a hug?”

Lucy smiles, turning toward Tim as she accuses, “You’re jealous!”

“What? No.”

“You’re jealous of a robot! Is it the accent?”

Tim rolls his eyes but can still hear the other bot speaking.

“You should have chosen a prettier car if you were attempting to capture your own beauty,” the bot flirts, drawing an embarrassed groan out of you as Optimus shakes his head.

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?” Lucy continues.

“I don’t even know what he’s saying,” Tim argues. “And I’m not jealous.”

“Hello!” the bot calls, walking with his digits in yours. “Tim and Lucy, oui?”

“Oui,” Lucy answers, smiling up at the towering robot. “Quel est ton nom?”

“Ah! Parles-tu français?”

“A little bit.”

“Je m’appelle Hot Rod,” the bot introduces.

“Hot Rod,” you whisper, your voice clearer than his accent.

“What I said,” he tells you. “But if you’d like to keep speaking, I’ll listen to every word, mon cher.”

You look away from Hot Rod, drawing a pleased chuckle from him. He prepares to speak again, but the shortest robot Tim has seen interrupts him by jumping onto his leg and hanging from his thigh plate. You shake your head and pull the small bot off Hot Rod and into your arms.

“Maman!” the young boy complains. “Papa likes it!”

“Papa is speaking to our new friends,” you counter softly.

“Did you have fun, mon fils?” Hot Rod inquires, pulling you closer.

“Papa?” Lucy whispers, looking wide-eyed at Tim. “This is… I’ve never seen something this cute before in my entire life.”

“She is rather cute, is she not?” Hot Rod asks.

“Lucy, Tim, this is my husband Hot Rod,” you introduce.

“Robots get married?” Tim blurts out.

Lucy elbows him, offering an apology to Hot Rod.

“Cybertron has many rich traditions,” Optimus answers. “Our marriage is not entirely unlike your own, but the ceremony is far more impressive.”

Your son whispers in your auditory receptor, and you lower him carefully onto the ground. He offers his hand to Lucy, nearly eye-to-eye with her.

“Nice to meet you,” she says.

“So,” Tim begins. “You’re married and you have a son.”

“Yes,” you reply, patting your son’s back after Hot Rod picks him up.

“You’re a Lambo, and Hot Rod is too…”

“Our alt modes have nothing to do with our reproduction,” Hot Rod assures him.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Lucy says, patting Tim’s back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m just so confused,” he admits.

“At least you aren’t jealous now.”

“Jealous?” you repeat. “Of what?”

“Nothing,” Tim answers, silently warning Lucy to stay quiet.

The ground shakes, causing you to reach for the ground as Hot Rod steadies himself.

“Incoming!” Ratchet yells from the warehouse. “Two airborne!”

“Stay here,” Hot Rod demands, setting your son down. “Je vous aime.”

“Je vous aime, papa,” he replies.

“Watch him?” you ask Tim and Lucy.

“Of course!” Lucy calls.

Tim watches you and Lucy from across the aircraft hangar. Lucy is fawning over your son in awe.

“She is special,” Hot Rod says, lowering beside him. “Ma femme tells me you are good officer.”

“I try to be,” Tim answers. “Sorry. About earlier.”

“No hard feelings.”

“Why does an Italian car have a French accent?” Tim inquires.

“I’m Cybertronian, not Italian. Our alt modes are a choice, not a sign of who we truly are.”

“Your wife fits the red Lamborghini Huracan.”

“She does. But there is more to us than what you can see; we are more than meets the eye. And the accent was not intentional. I can’t get rid of it.”

Tim watches Lucy as he mumbles, “I know the feeling.”

“Come,” Hot Rod invites, transforming from his 17-foot stature into a Lamborghini Centenario worth more money than Tim has ever seen. “Come for a drive. I’ll answer what I can, and divert any other questions to mon chérie.”

“She won’t answer,” Tim points out.

“No. But she’ll love how I ask.”

[niuxita21]

If these two aren't meant to be in love with each other, someone on the directing team fucked up REAL bad lmao

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT.

Grandma cat!reader. Who was a old women who got experimented on and turned into a smiling critter but like the caretaker of the smiling critters.

Often seen walking around with a scruffed smiling critter hanging from her mouth(somehow-) and overfeeding the smiling critters or children.

How would a saved dogday and (maybe) good catnap react to the player bringing them to readers containment room. (She was locked in before the Hour of Joy due to something and just stayed there)?

I just want to see them get some sort of parental love 🥹😖

- Marshmellow🤍

I swear ya'll are gonna make me cry with these requests /nm <3

.....

Dogday

In your old age, you didn't wanna retire from Playtime Co. and spend the remainder of your life laying around, waiting for your body and mind to deteriorate.

So instead you became one of the few willing volunteers for the Bigger Bodies Initiative, being turned into a Smiling Critter (which made you especially happy since your grandkids adored the toyline and cartoon show).

In the show, the gang mentioned a grandma character several times (albeit she was unseen) and with Catnap being recalled from all promo materials, Playtime Co. took creative liberties and made you the newest feline replacement, fitted with a cinnamon scent and pie necklace.

Your tagline was something like "The Smiling Critters take care of our orphans, but who takes care of them? Why, their Grandma [Y/n], of course! She's full of love and wisdom!"

True to that, you became the caretaker of the Critters and children, ensuring everyone's fed well and staying out of trouble.

The incident with Bron (Thomas/Experiment 1199) had scientists rethinking how they'd introduce willing experiments to those...well..less-than-willing.

So you had a supervised introduction to the SCs (with children also present to discourage them from reacting violently). You were even given a containment cell you could retreat to in case of emergencies.

Luckily, you never had to use that room--as they accepted you and began calling you "grandma" since day one.

Dogday, especially, got attached to you.

You called him "DD" and "Doggy-Dearie".

Being a bit taller than the rest of them allows you to pick them up by the scuff of their necks if they're being too rowdy (Kickin and Hoppy, especially).

Even so, you're very sweet to all of them, letting them snuggle up to you as you shared stories and made them food so they could keep up with the little ones.

All was well in the Playhouse up until the Hour of Joy of course.

But you were unaware of it since Catnap sabotaged your room's lock, keeping you trapped to lower the Smiling Critters' morale.

Dogday was 100% convinced you were dead.

However you survived long enough for the Employee's arrival years later, never knowing what happened to the factory..

After rescuing Dogday, they find your door and powered it up, allowing the two entry into the perfectly intact space within.

Your fur was matted and you looked sickly, but you still jump up upon seeing the state your dear "grandson" was in.

It devastated you.

"My word..Dog-Dearie.." Your heart shatters. "Your legs..where are they? Where is everyone?"

Something inside of him ultimately breaks as he realizes you were alive...and you were here all along.

"G-Grandma...! Oh...god..I-I thought you were--" He crawls away from the Employee and towards you, sobbing into your lap. "You were h-here..this whole time! I-I wanted to see you, but..C-Catnap..he.."

"Shh, shhh..I'm here now, my sweet pup. It's alright." You hush, stroking his ears and resting a paw on his back, before looking to the Employee. "You must be terribly confused..as am I.."

After explaining your role--and calming Dogday down--the two tell you about what's happened to the factory, and at first you can't believe it...

Until you all wander through the Playhouse and see the horrid state it's in, but they're confused as to why none of the mini Critters attack you.

Only then do you mention feeding them over the years through little vents and holes in the walls, keeping their hunger moderately satiated.

Dogday feels awful, and even more upset at Catnap for lying about your fate.

But still, you don't show any ill-will towards any of the Smiling Critters, even if one of them had betrayed you all.

Instead you just let Dogday cling to you as you escape together and try your best to keep up.

Catnap

Like the rest of the Smiling Critters, Catnap considered you family and often went to you for snacks and such.

Or if he needs a break from trying to put all the rowdy orphans to bed in Home Sweet Home. Only then is he given permission to see you.

He always liked curling up in your lap, purring while you stroke his fur and tell him a story (which is sometimes an event from your old human life, albeit you do accidentally confuse yourself since ofc you're not supposed to remember any details of your old life).

The Prototype sees this as a problem, as Theodore Catnap was getting a bit too comfortable with his life here and needed a reminder of his mission....and so he tells him the truth.

About how you not only worked at the factory until you reached retirement age...but you were also a willing participant in the experiments.

And suddenly, he couldn't look at you the same way anymore. Only with resentment.

It wasn't fair.

You got to lead a long and fulfilling life. Theodore barely got the chance to grow up and be a normal kid.

You had the procedure and associated risks explained to you clear as day. Theodore never had the luxury of being warned ahead of time before he was grabbed and put under the knife after recovering from the incident with the green grabpack hand.

All he wanted was to free the others, but he ended up becoming their warden instead.

He almost forgot all of that because of you.

He refuses your food now, and you worry for him when you see how skinny he becomes as the months pass.

But he's very cryptic in the way he talks to you, the other SCs, and the staff...so you didn't know for sure what you did to upset him so much.

"Catnap, dearie..you're skin and bones. Let me-"

"I know what you were, and what you've become...the Prototype told me so."

You don't know what to say. What could you say when he kept talking about this "Prototype" person?

Despite his hatred, the SCs were conditioned to love you regardless, and so before the Hour of Joy Catnap decided to sabotage the locks of your containment room.

That way, he wouldn't be tempted to kill you...and he'd spare you from the grief of what he ends up doing to the other SCs, including Dogday.

Years later, when the Employee finally knocks some sense into him after saving him from being sacrificed to the Prototype, he takes them to your room, believing you to be dead from starvation.

Instead, though, they break you out and he discovers you're very much alive.

And Catnap just breaks down, groveling and begging for your forgiveness.

You were the one who always tried to reach out and comfort him, giving him some relief from the misery of being trapped in this factory....and he pushed you away.

But you don't hate him for locking you up, realizing that he still cared about you after all this time. Even when the Prototype told him about your past.

He wanted to keep you safe.

That alone proves he had a heart, and you reassure him of that as he cuddles up to you for a little while.

Once he's calmer, you go with him, Dogday (assuming he was saved), and the Employee to meet with Poppy and Kissy--both of whom are relieved to see you alive

[viperify]

Kinktober 2024 | 𝗼𝗰𝘁 𝟮𝟰: ᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄᴏ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

You belong to us.

Short summary: Your two best friends had been telling you for months. The boy who you were dating, Cormac McLaggen, had been cheating on you. When you saw him snogging with the other girl at a Gryffindor party, you were absolutely devastated and immediately looked for the only two people who could lift your mood – Tom and Draco.

Warnings: 18+ only! threesome, unprotected p in v, anal, impact play, dom!Tom, overstimulation, creampie, cumplay

A/N: Well, this turned out properly filthy. This work is another case of me trying to write around 1k words but miserably failing. I do have to say that this is my fav one yet, though. I had so much fun writing this. ;)As always, feedback is greatly appreciated <3

I am gonna work on some type of masterlist soon so you can find my works more easily. This whole Tumblr stuff is still confusing me, ngl😭

wordcount: 3,3k

“But- but I didn’t think he would actually do that!” You sobbed, head buried in Tom’s chest while Draco tenderly rubbed your back. “He is an idiot, love. We have been telling you.” The blonde stated. “I am sorry for not believing you. Next time I will listen.” Your tears soaked Tom’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. “You better do.”

After you had calmed down, the boys let you shower in their dorm, fixing your appearance. What you didn’t tell them: you didn’t plan on leaving, heavily relying on the support of your two friends at the time. Naturally, they were rather surprised when you asked whether you could stay the night, but how could they ever deny you anything?

It all started pretty harmless. Tom as usual was reading something in his book, while you and Draco talked, all of you lying in one bed together. As you grew more tired, you cuddled into the blonde’s side, hand on his stomach, feeling his abs through his shirt. The close body contact with the two boys stirred something in you, and as Draco then looked you in your eyes, his hands wandering to your waist, your mind went fuzzy. Cormac hadn’t cared for you like that in so long. Yet you knew you couldn’t risk your friendship over this. Not after you had just lost your boyfriend.

Draco though seemed to sense your doubt and had had other ideas. With one quick motion he pulled you towards him, meeting his lips with yours. You immediately surrendered to him, letting the blonde dominate the kiss. All the pent-up frustration left you, fully focusing on how Draco’s touch felt on your body and the sensations he was providing you with.

“What do you think you two are doing?” Tom asked, carefully watching you two from his side of the bed. You had almost forgotten he was there as well. Regret started washing over you, your face heating up. You definitely shouldn’t have done that. What were you thinking?

“I am sorry Tom, and you too Draco.” You whined, burying your head in the palms of your hands. “I shouldn’t have-“ as soon as you started talking, Draco interrupted you. “Darling.” The blonde moved your hands from your face, his eyes urging you to look at Tom. “He isn’t frustrated with you for kissing me. Just that you only kissed me. Better make it up to him.” He grinned and you turned to face the brunette, who welcomed you onto his lap. “I am sorry Tom.” You pouted, but he was quick to silence you by kissing you like it was his last day on earth, his hands cupping your ass, eliciting a small moan from you which gave him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Hungry, lust-filled eyes devoured you from both sides, and as you were kissing Tom, Draco’s hands found their way under your shirt, cupping your breasts. The sensations from both of the Slytherins soon became overwhelming and you desperately needed to ease the ache forming in your lower stomach. Your hips started grinding on Tom’s lap, which gave you the possibility to feel just how hard he was. He groaned into the kiss at the sudden friction, and you parted from him. “I am sorry.” You apologized as you blushed, halting your movements.

“Don’t you dare stop. Go on darling. I know just how badly you need this. Make yourself come on my thigh for us hm? You want to be our good girl, don’t you?” The brunette purred, hands firmly gripping your hips, moving you to sit on just one of his thighs.

Draco in the meanwhile pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra and skirt. “Such a pretty girl for us. Go and show us who you have always truly belonged to.”

You whined at his words, throwing your head back, hips eagerly grinding on Tom’s muscular thighs. The friction perfectly worked on your needy clit, wetness soaking your panties, all the way through to Tom’s trousers. Tom then also removed your bra, and while you fully concentrated on the pleasure, their hands found your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples. You mewled at their touch, your eyebrows furrowing. “Your tits are perfect, darling. So gorgeous.” The brunette praised you, slightly pinching your erect bud.

Whimpering at the sting, you felt yourself get closer to the high you were so desperately chasing. The boys took notice of your state, shaky breaths and moans escaping your parted lips. Tom’s strong arms then guided your hips up and down on his thigh, applying even more pressure on your sensitive clit. His eyes laid hot on your skin, gaze stuck on your tits which bounced so beautifully on your chest with the movements you were making.

“Gonna c-come!” You blurted out, head dropping onto the brunette’s chest, your sweet little moans now muffled. “Come for us, baby. Be a good girl and come for us.” Draco encouraged, his hands wandering under your skirt, landing a smack on your ass.

Their dirty words in combination with their precise touches sent you tumbling over the edge, your mind going completely blank. All you felt was pure pleasure, your orgasm sending shockwaves through your entire body. You whined as your walls clenched around nothing, eager to be filled.

As you came down from your high, your entire body slumped forward to rest on top of Tom’s body, his hands gently stroking your hair. “Such a good girl, coming all over my thigh. That feel good, darling?” He purred, lifting your chin so he could see your face. All you could do was nod, too exhausted to give a proper answer.

They both smiled at your state, letting you rest for a few moments. “Thank you” you started, slowly lifting yourself from the boy’s body. “We are always going to take care of you, darling. Don’t ever worry about that.” The blonde reassured you, hands palming your breasts once more.

“Wanna make you feel good too, please” you whispered, eyes flickering between the two. You lifted yourself from Tom’s thigh, now kneeling in front of Draco on the bed. Your hands reached out to undo the blonde’s belt, but his hands grabbed yours before you could do anything. “You sure you want this?” He asked you, his blue eyes meeting yours. You nodded frantically, and he let go of your hands. Eagerly you unbuckled his belt, trousers slipping down his thighs, pooling at his knees. His hardened length was visible through his briefs, which you kissed through the fabric, eliciting a soft whimper from the blonde. Your hands gently stroked him through the cotton, making him furrow his eyebrows, groaning at your touch.

Smack.

You gasped at the sharp pain coming from your still covered ass, turning your head to spot Tom, visibly not amused. “No teasing, love.” He berated, voice strict, urging you to pleasure the blonde. You only nodded in return, obeying his orders without a question. You freed Draco of the fabric, his cock hitting his lower abdomen. Your hands circled him, slowly stroking up and down. In the meanwhile, Tom undressed your skirt, pulling it down your legs. Draco moaned and whimpered at your touch, your thumb swiping over his tip, gathering a bead of precum that had leaked. Then, collecting saliva in your mouth, you spit on his length, making it easier to stroke him. When you felt ready, you took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around his sensitive tip. He groaned, throwing his head back. His hands wandered to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you took more and more of him inside of your mouth.

The brunette behind you pulled down your panties in the meanwhile, sliding his fingers through your soaked folds. He didn’t waste much time before first slipping one, then two fingers inside of your needy cunt, finding the spongey spot that made you see stars. Instinctively you sped up, the blonde in awe of what his best friend was capable of. Soon enough, he took over, guiding your head up and down on his painfully hard cock. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, the vibrations making his length twitch.

Finally, he pulled you off his dick before he could have his release. Just as you were about to protest, the familiar feeling was forming in your lower stomach again, and you gasped. “Tom please, I-“ “Come. Gotta get you nice and ready for us, darling.” Before you could even register his words, your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, the waves of pleasure threatening to drown you. Your walls pulsated around his fingers as the brunette expertly worked you through your high, only stopping when you whined at the touch on your oversensitive core.

His fingers slipped out of you, a soft whimper leaving your mouth. “Such a greedy cunt. Can’t wait to be filled, huh?” Tom asked you, and as he did not get an answer, he sent another harsh smack on your ass cheek. You squealed forward, though stopped by Draco who was now holding your head against his chest, softly stroking your hair as you cried out at the throb of the impact. “I expect an answer when I ask something, love.” The brunette gently reminded you, softly swiping his palm against your reddened skin. “Sorry Tom.” You apologized, looking at him with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Want to be filled by both of you.”

“Exactly what we wanted to hear. Such a good girl.” Draco praised you. “Are you ready for us, love?” The older boy of the two asked, fingertips drawing figures on your back.

“Yes, please. Want you.” You slurred, your mind hazy. Your two orgasms had drained more energy from you than you had thought they would.

Draco then laid down on his back, pulling you on top of him. Tom undressed himself as well and joined you two, taking in the scene from beside you two. Draco slid his tip up and down your folds, slowly circling your clit with his crown. You whined in anticipation, eager to feel his thick length inside of you. “Needy girl” he breathed, his tip slowly pushing its way inside. As his cock had fully submerged in you, you took a few seconds to adjust before gradually moving up and down on him. You turned your head to Tom, who was hungrily watching you two. Your hand then circled his length, stroking him while you were riding Draco. The brunette groaned, his palm resting on your ass. Draco’s fingers wandered to your clit, drawing small eights on the sensitive bud, while his other hand cupped one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

Despite being close to reach yet another climax, your thighs started burning, making you halt your movements. The blonde began thrusting up into you, but Tom stopped him. “If she wants to come, she has to earn it. You don’t move, only her. If you are getting exhausted darling, I suggest you come in a timely manner. You want us to be proud, don’t you, doll?” You whined, yet nodded eagerly, picking up the pace again.

Make them proud, make them proud, you rehearsed in your head over and over again.

Smack. Smack. Smack. “Go on and come, darling.”

Tom’s palm met your soft skin repeatedly, the sting sending shockwaves right to your core. “I am trying! I am trying!” You cried, eagerly riding Draco to make yourself cum yet again.

It seemed to work, though. Draco’s dick, Tom’s dominant side and the groans from the two boys had you reach yet another climax. Your walls clenched frantically around Draco’s length and it took him everything not to cum then and there. You moaned loudly as you came, thighs trembling and mind reeling with pleasure. “Good girl. Well done” Tom praised you, kissing your forehead.

You were exhausted. Truly. So, when Tom positioned himself behind you, his tip prodding at your other entrance, your eyes shot wide open. “You ready, doll? It might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but it will feel good, I promise.” He spoke to you in a soft voice, gently grazing your tender skin with his fingertips. “Please no more Tom, I can’t.” You whined, trying to get away from him. At that, he firmly gripped your hips, pulling you back towards him. “You can, darling. I know you do. Now be a good girl and take it.”

Gathering some wetness from your dripping cunt, he steadily pushed inside of your second hole, groaning at how tight it felt with Draco buried deep in your pussy. You hissed in pain, Tom’s length stretching you to the brim. “You okay?” He asked you, halting his movements. “Just go slow please.” You answered, gritting your teeth. “Of course, doll. Gotta relax for me.”

As soon as you did, the pain subsided. Tom let you adjust, and soon after set an unforgiving pace, Draco following him. Your mind went completely numb as your two best friends thrusted their thick, hard cocks into you, turning you into nothing but a blabbering mess. The only words you remembered where “yes” and “please”, the two boys having achieved what they had been wanting for years: you begging them to fuck you senseless.

They had always been jealous of McLaggen, of how highly you spoke of him and of all these nights you sneaked out of the Slytherin dormitories to spend time with him instead of them. Of course, they threatened him behind your back. If he only even dared hurt you, he would regret it, which wasn’t a threat, but rather a promise. They would take care of that later still. Now it was time for them to show you who you truly belonged to. Break and mold you into their perfect little toy. Not to play with, but to protect and care for. You would only have eyes for them after today, they would make sure of that.

“S’ too much!” You cried, voice muffled as your face was buried deep in the blonde’s chest. “Can’t hear you, babydoll. Got to speak clearly if you want to say something.” Tom taunted, shoving his entire cock into your tight hole just as you were about to repeat what you had said before.

The brunette loved this, watching you go brainless as they fucked you dumb. Of course they did not actually mean to hurt you and you weren’t, but hearing you cry out for them as they slid in and out of you made their dicks throb with anticipation.

Tom, who watched his length disappear into you with every thrust, reached down to rub your swollen clit to give you your final orgasm of the night. They knew you were reaching your limit, sweat trickling down your body, not being able to form coherent sentences. You whimpered, feeling lightheaded at everything they were giving you. “Gonna make you come one more time love, okay? Doing so well for us.” Draco encouraged you, softly stroking your hair, kissing your temple. The blonde had always been the softer one out of the two. “Is that right?” Tom asked, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull you flush against his chest. “Y-yes!” You croaked, tears staining your sweet cheeks.

The brunette was quick to wipe your damp skin, planting soft kisses on them, which was such a contradiction to his rough treatment, ruthlessly slamming his entire length into you. The knot in your lower stomach tightened and you knew what this meant. “Feel you clenching around us, darling. Let go for us. Show us how much you love this.” Draco cooed, tending to your breasts as Tom rubbed your sweet spot.

“M’ gonna- oh Merlin-“ your high hit you abruptly, and your vision went black. You could still feel the outline of every single vein decorating their cocks, even though you were pretty sure you were closer to heaven than earth at that moment. Convulsing around them, Tom laid your boneless body on Draco’s, both of them chasing their own climaxes. Your walls clenched around them, grip so tight Draco was the first to reach his orgasm with a grunt, shooting his load directly onto your welcoming cervix. He made sure you got every last drop of his fertile seed, dick still buried deep inside of you to not let anything go to waste. Tom pulled your limp body back against his punishing strokes, burying himself balls-deep inside of your greedy hole. “It’s like you were made for my cock, damn. Going to fill you up so good, doll.” He cursed under his breath, and with one last rough hit and a smack on your booty, he emptied himself inside of your ass just as Draco did in your cunt.

Both of the boys had to catch their breath, sweat covering their forehead. You hummed at the warm sensation pooling deep inside both of your holes, closing your eyes. “Are you okay?” Tom asked you softly, his hands moving your hair out of your face, gently stroking your cheeks. You nodded in return. “Feel so good. But tired. And dirty.”

They both laughed at that, slowly pulling their softening cocks out of you, making you whimper at the loss, now feeling all empty. “Sshh, love. We are just going to clean ourselves up. Don’t you move. We will take care of you, princess.” Draco soothed, laying you down onto the pillow, leaving you alone on the bed.

Tom came back first, a damp, warm cloth in his hand. “Spread your legs for me, babydoll. Gonna get you all freshened up, hmm?” You obliged, legs parting for the brunette. He hummed at the sight, Draco joining him. “Don’t you think she looks so pretty with her holes drooling our cum?” Tom murmured, spreading your folds, the boys’ cum mixing on the messy sheets underneath you. “Absolutely breathtaking.” The blonde agreed, pushing their leaking seed back into your sore hole with his thumb, making you whine. “Got to make sure you know who you belong to, baby.” He added, caressing your reddened ass cheeks.

Tom grinned, tenderly wiping between your glistening folds with the cloth, while Draco sat down beside you, giving you a glass of water. The brunette boy soon joined you two, tenderly caring for your spent body. Just as you felt your eyelids getting heavier, footsteps slowly approached from the hallway.

Faint knocks had your head turn in the direction of the door, instinctively covering your exposed self.

“I know you are in there! Talk to me, p-please!” A familiar voice slurred from outside. It was Cormac, who had quite a few too many drinks as it seemed like.

“She is busy.” The boys growled, McLaggen sighing in defeat. When they were sure he had left, they continued tending to your body, making sure every ache was taken care of. You still showered together, them washing your hair and rubbing your favourite shower gel into your soft skin. Both of the boys grinned at your state, barely able to keep your balance under the water. “That’s your fault! Don’t laugh at me.” You croaked, gently slapping their chest. “We know, babydoll. I am sure you remember you are ours from now on.” The brunette spoke, massaging your shoulders. “Always.” You agreed.

Back in the bed, you cuddled the both of them.

“We hope we could make you feel better, princess.” Draco stated, kissing your cheek.

You smiled, yawning. “You couldn’t have made me any happier.”

Soon after, you fell asleep with a subtle smile on your face. You had finally found your safe place, the boys who would always care for their girl in their own special way, no matter what happens. And you would happily let them.

[asteropewpew]

dearest shooting star 🌠

loving anaxagoras felt similar to the momentary awe whenever you spot a shooting star. that quick, brilliant flash of light streaking across the midnight sky, so vivid and arrogantly defiant against the moon.

i shine brighter than you, it would say to the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating the late night. this shooting star was so bright that it seemingly cut a large swathe across like very definite sword strike, all the while burning up the rest of itself during the end of their cosmic journey. so look only at me.

"Your students looked quite... apoplectic." You look observed, tone filled with knowing amusement as you watched his students amble their way out of his classroom with varying expressions of frustration. Or in some cases, with a look of absolute vengeance. "A lively morning earlier then, yes?"

Anaxagoras doesn't quite chuckle, but the small, involuntary huff as his lips curved slightly in smug glee gives away his current sentiment regarding his students. His form tilted slightly forward as he turned to face you, a pair of vivid seafoam eyes gleaming brightly with all the knowledge and intellect that captivated your attention like a treacherous lure.

It's both fortunate and unfortunate (for your heart), that your own class ends at just around the time that his class ends—with the bell tolling overhead to signal the students to do a self-study session (or exchange shared moments of misery) at numerous amphitheaters or at the central library of the Grove.

"As always, our class ended with another debate."

"About the gods, Professor?"

"Naturally." Given his rather vocal stance as a blasphemer, it was no surprise that his students had seen fit to challenge him to yet another debate. More likely in hopes to humble him rather than commit to any intellectual exchange, you mused. "And as always, they are infuriated whenever I poke out the holes in their arguments."

"Their collective spite would end up with you getting killed one day, you know?" A lie. For as notorious as Anaxagoras had been in criticizing the actions of the Flame-Chase Journey right alongside, his students had somehow decided that he was deserving of their gifts and...other knick knacks that you were most definitely sure were priceless antiques.

Poor Hyacine who's been given more work by the rising mess around his office, no doubt. Although Anaxagoras' new student named Phainon had been mentioned as some sort of precious antique collector and appraiser, which made organizing things much easier, if any.

"If they commit as much dedication to verbally eviscerate me on court trials and debates, they should focus it on their thesis proposals." The sneer in his face made your lips quirk into a smile.

"You should really stop goading your cute little students, Professor Anaxagoras."

He opened his mouth, likely retorting his favorite correction before realization caught his would-be misstep. The small "tch" made your smile widen even as he shot you a warning glare, not missing your clear attempt at throwing him off despite following his numerous insistence regarding the matter with his name. "Telling me how to handle my students now, Professor?"

It should feel criminal how your name comes out of his mouth in a slow, lilting drawl. Almost indulging, if you were to entertain your own fanciful whispers.

"Just a word of advice as a fellow lecturer." But his unimpressed look told you as much about just how convincing your excuse is.

loving anaxagoras felt like loving a shooting star. there is joy in catching that moment of fleeting beauty across the sky, knowing that it would forever be different from any other shooting stars in the world. but like all things, even shooting stars are unforgiving towards their admirers.

they were utterly beautiful in their destruction, the broken fragments carrying with it such a devastating power that perhaps a part of you would break in return; echoing the shatter of a brilliant celestial body with your own hapless heart.

"What did you do?" You rushed to ask, voice trembling ever so slightly as you looked at the ragged exhaustion across Anaxagoras' face.

"Merely created something that puts us in equal standing with the gods." He sounded victorious, as if the price of his triumph wasn't riddled with blood and pain. Anaxagoras looked inappropriately disheveled, clothes rumpled and singed at some of the hems—pale blue hair clinging to his face that was full of grime and sweat and a few cuts here and there. "And I have succeeded in finally making it useable."

There are tremors in his hands, visible ones and you couldn't take your eyes away from the inflamed skin where the bright red of the Philosopher's stone adorned his right hand. Instantly, you feel the impossibly heavy weight of his trust in allowing you inside his personal alchemical laboratory.

There's a myriad of things that you could say to him, and yet all of it would make you nothing more than a hypocrite who allowed the one that you cherished most to completely ruin himself in pursuit of knowledge. All those years that had you faithfully shadowing him in his unquenchable thirst for answers, barely managing to reel him back just in time before he truly hurtled towards the deep end.

All those years of endless exasperation and countless debates as you hurried to catch up to him, all of it cultivated into biting back down a few choices of words directed at his dangerous recklessness. "Really? Treating yourself so poorly while you're in an experimental binge doesn't quite count as a logical course of action."

You hurriedly knelt down beside him as you brought out a roll of fresh bandages from your satchel, and he was mindful enough to not give you much grief as he obediently placed his trembling hands in your hands.

"Am I ever in danger with my own experiments?" His retort made you purse your lips as you carefully started tending to his wounds, a deep frown crossing your face for all that your hands remained gentle in treating his injuries.

The silence that followed, was a little stifled. Even with you, as immersed in your irritation and worries, didn't fail to notice the tension lining over his shoulders.

"This won't be the last." In the end, it was Anaxagoras who broke the silence, sounding a little gruff as he ducked his head to avoid your gaze. "I still need to find the answers to my new questions... far too many thing—"

"Be that as it may," you interrupted his halfhearted reasons with a pointed glare, "you are still expected to teach your own students instead of passing all them off to me every time you get possessed in doing your experiments!"

He tilted his head in consideration, as if only belatedly recalling that he had spent longer in his laboratory than he had expected.

"The brats should know better than compare you with me." The stupid, foolish, heretic scholar with one of the sharpest minds of today, missed your very non-subtle show of concern. Amazing. Truly a mind of the ages indeed. "And besides, you're the only one that wouldn't revise my lesson plan without consulting me first. Or make those impressionable students learn something that they shouldn't waste their time."

"No, I just want to get them off me because I'm tired of grading forty students every week on two different subjects."

"..." The foolish professor didn't even try to object, knowing better than to test your limits.

You also refrained from pointing out that his students have this weird tendency to debate with any professors that even dared to make them stray off his meticulous curriculum, for all that they are keen to put him through the wringer for at least once before they could graduate. "No personal laboratory time for at least a while."

"You can't possibly demand that of me."

The smile on your face dared him to argue any further than this. "I believe Hyacine would appreciate being notified of your... occupational injuries."

There's another beat of silence, but it was a little easier this time. Familiar.

Although your worries still made your chest grow tight, his disgruntled look soothed something within you as he obediently tilted his head up for you to dab at the small cuts and abrasions across his face.

Even more, the victory was sweeter when Anaxagoras eventually grumbled in defeat.

loving anaxagoras felt a little like condemning yourself to watching the fleeting destruction of a shooting star. you, a criminal who was sentenced to chase and watch the one that you loved the most, meet his own end with the most joyous laugh that you've heard from him.

anaxagoras who would completely burn up himself upon reaching the zenith of his journey, content in defying the tranquility of the evening night in a blaze of brilliant light. the false sky, as he had claimed, with eyes sparkling like the simulated constellations in the astronomy laboratory where alchemy fabricates a sky without the threat of aquila's temperamental gaze.

how you wanted, to valiantly preserve that shine without losing the brilliance that belonged to anaxagoras and his endless curiosity. except he was the kind of person who was never meant to be caged, confined and conforming to conventional ideas.

because he was always and foremost, meant to be free.

(and you could only hope that he can come back to you from time to time, if his time permits it; which was a factor that was slowly getting dwindling with each passing day.)

...Perhaps you'd have known it then, that he wouldn't simply just stop at embedding a Philosopher's stone in his right hand. That nothing could truly ever satiate his thirst in finding out the intricacies wrapped around Amphoreus and the ever-enduring Flame-Chase journey.

That he would embody your most favorite celestial body in all its vivid, and gut-wrenching beauty like this.

"Anaxa—are you crazy?!"

You saw him, slumped over the pillars of the central table while the contents in his personal laboratory which looked as if a veritable storm had swept upon it. Potions and vials lay shattered all over the ground, his alchemical gun lying innocuously beside him while numerous papers full of almost unrecognizable scrawls were scattered on the floor.

For a brief, frightening moment, you feared the worst.

"My name...is Anaxa...goras," he rasped after a moment, lone eye a little dull and unfocused as he struggled to recollect his thoughts when you rushed over to him. "Do not...call me Anaxa."

"And very soon, those words will be your last words if you don't get to the Courtyard as fast you can!" Panic was laced in your voice as you tried to check whether he had any debilitating injuries that require a mad dash to the Courtyard.

(Thin. He's thinner again.)

"This is a...culmination of my life's research and a milestone...regarding my capabilities," he argued, wheezing as he bared his teeth in an attempt to hide his pain when he tried to shift his position as you carefully prodded at his form.

"Which would be utterly useless if you don't make a patent of it while you're still alive," you snapped, finally letting out a breath when your preliminary search yielded nothing but a couple of bruises and symptoms of dehydration alongside exhaustion. "Have you truly decided to throw your life away like the foolish blasphemer that you are?"

Ever since he came back from that one conversation with Empedocles after he'd lost his eye, you know that he was a little different.

Sharper perhaps, much more intense as he had been before. Yet he looked perpetually weary, for all that his back stood tall and unwavering while handing out criticisms and advice for his students and fellow scholars.

As if he was always desperately running towards something that remained just out of reach.

"Why...do you care anyway? You're always so...meddlesome." The question made your heart grow still. It felt like being in the middle of Aidonia's harshest snowstorm, the wind howling at your foolishness for daring to even hope. "Don't you understand...why I must...do this?"

He is so thoughtlessly cruel at times, your dearest shooting star.

"I can't accept that what you're doing is so important that you would throw away your entire life for it." You didn't beg, but all of your emotions saturated each and every word. "Please, just take a break, Anaxagoras. There is time. You have time."

"Nothing is more important than seeing the Truth...of the false sky." His voice was hoarse, yet unwavering with the weight of his own conviction and obsessive desire. "And proving that...the Flame-Chase journey is not so linear in its approach. Everything else...was just an afterthought."

"Perhaps I had thought too highly of our time spent together." It hurt, when you could sense nothing but the genuine truth laced in his words. He's definitely suffered some sort of altered mental status right now, but it did little to lessen the sting. "And that my effort towards a dear colleague and companion, was nothing more than a show of charity in your eyes."

Anaxagoras didn't speak, nor did he even need to, as he had finally passed out in abject exhaustion and pain-filled sleep.

(Perhaps it was the best, that he couldn't hear the bitter disappointment in your voice.)

You allowed yourself a look, a last glance, feeling like you've swallowed knives with each indication of self-neglect over his form. His clothes were bigger than it should be on him, not to the point of fright but enough just to indicate how much he's foregone sustenance at least multiple times. Likewise, there's a clear expression of exhaustion in his face. His clothes were disheveled, likely from his latest stunt more than an unconscious habit—but he looked utterly... small in that moment.

It would be easy to hate him. To rage and hate his foolishness, the ease in how he discarded his own present in favor of crafting a future that he had decided that was not his to see. The sheer hypocrisy by how passionate he was in insisting the sanctity of life and autonomy over "misguided notions" of honor and obligation, when each of his choices had contributed to his eventual ruin.

But you couldn't.

Despite all your frustrations and concerns, you never would be able to hate him for as much as you cherish him.

You know you were not so important as to be able to anchor his feet, but you can't help but wish you were.

loving anaxa meant suffering from daring to attempt that you could handle the intensity of a shooting star. it's like being a moth drawn to his vibrant flame, helplessly oblivious to the eventual agony of being burned alive.

you loved still loved your shooting star who had captivated your attention so tightly, before he spirited your heart away from your hands without any intention of returning it. nor even trying to take care of it.

anaxagoras was a great many things, but he was also utterly oblivious at the best of times. you should have created a boundary with him early on, to rein in your feelings as soon as your traitorous heart thundered at the sight of his bright, satisfied smile.

(but you didn't. and equally hurt and filled you with humility for every time you could see a part of anaxa that perhaps few or rather, none had ever been privy to see it.)

your blasphemer was always meant for great things, regardless if he would be scorned or admired for his actions.

and you could only watch and try to help him when he has burned himself too early in his journey towards searching for the truth of this world.

the astronomy laboratory was one of your favorite ventures, and you keep to your silence even as the door opened to welcome the familiar clack of footsteps coming towards the center of the laboratory.

"...I didn't know that there's someone using the astronomy laboratory."

"It's occupied." your voice was clipped, sparing only the barest words as you didn't bother to turn around and acknowledge the illustrious anaxagoras. there was a brief pause, before you heard a rustling sound as he carefully sat down beside you.

ever since that day, when you had rushed anaxagoras into the courtyard after he had collapsed, you decided to keep your distance. a futile attempt at drawing a boundary when you've already reached a point in no return, but you held strong even when hyacine had cautiously asked if you would like to visit him even just once.

it was more for your sake than his, and you were confident that he wouldn't even notice—for all that he's dedicated his focus and attention to his dogged pursuit of the truth.

"You weren't present to the general meeting with all the Professors." it took everything in you not to flinch when you felt the weight of his gaze on the side of your face.

"I was busy." you were very much grateful that the darkness hid much of your expression as you drew your knees close to yourself.

"Busy with what?" he probed, because he never did have a sense of self-restraint when it comes to satiating his curiosity. "Hyacine told me that you asked to be relieved of another class to handle. And that you also applied for a...sabbatical leave."

the latter sentence echoed his mystified confusion, the notion of a vacation apparently being a foreign one to the foolish scholar.

"I'm accompanying Hyacine and Phainon on their usual visit back to Okhema." there, that should be enough to get him off your back and leave.

except it doesn't.

"You've never shown any interest in leaving the Grove for that holy city." it was evident how poorly he had regarded the capital with the eternal light, and you've heard his sentiments regarding a certain chrysos heir residing in the city often enough to understand his position.

but you didn't care much for that.

what pricked at your still smarting heart was—

"I don't need to report to you nor justify any of my actions to you for anything, Professor Anaxagoras." you replied, voice chillingly cold and void of your hurt as much as you can. "As you have made yourself quite clear on my interference to your pursuit of knowledge."

There was another pause, the fabric of his coat rustling as he abruptly moved closer to you.

"That day when you rushed me into the courtyard," his voice was faintly urgent, promptly you to finally give a glance at his pinched expression with a carefully distant look. except the faint unease within his piercing eyes made your traitorous heart flutter once again. "Did I say anything?"

this close, you could see that hyacine's work had lessened the exhaustion and overall gauntness of the scholar's face. despite you still childishly holding on to your anger, you felt a tension within you finally relax.

"Nothing but the truth, Professor." it was maddening, how your anger was quietly doused by seeing just how much he had recovered (even if you could still sense an air of weariness around him).

"That's not—" anaxagoras tsked, ever astute in deducing a hint from your response. "I said something."

you kept silent, because you refuse to be considered a puzzle where he would look for clues to satisfy his own questions. no, it would hurt you far too much if he treated what had happened as nothing more than a logical problem to be straightened out.

(it would be like holding out your still mending heart for him to destroy.)

"Whatever it was, it was enough for you to refuse a visit to me at the ward." the intensity in his gaze proved too much, and you ducked your head to look away from him. you saw his hand make an aborted move towards you, before it stopped and curled into a tight fist. "It happened when you caught me in my personal laboratory, and I was cognizant enough to respond but not enough to retain the memories of our brief interaction before you brought me to the Courtyard. You're angry. And I hurt you."

your foolish scholar had known nothing but the thorny path that would lead to his goals, and it was your own foolish decision to chase after him like a persistent shadow. in the end, everything can be traced back to your own decision to accompany him for so long—like that hapless moth who was drawn to the raging inferno that was anaxagoras the blasphemer.

you knew that he would change the world, at any and at all costs. even if the damning price was to ruin himself in the process.

"What did I say?" he asked again and... abruptly, you felt very tired.

forget it.

"It's alright," you murmured, finally looking up to give him a lopsided smile. don't worry, went unheard. "It was...my fault more than yours."

there was another pause again, before he spoke again.

"I am in need of a...companion for Hyacine to finally relinquish her watch on me." he said, stumbling over a particular word while you gave an inquiring hum.

you like to think that you know the undertone of his statement. don't go.

but you never truly left him, even in the height of your anger and hurt. hyacine would never fail to give you updates regarding his wellbeing and any additional expenses quietly paid for by you (under the guise of an anonymous benefactor), and combined with her stubbornness and the threat of making ika sit on his chest was enough for him to veer off from going back to his laboratory far too soon.

"...I can do that." it would be another story if you saw his main table and be reminded of how you initially saw him, but that was a thing for the future.

his shoulders slumping over slightly made a smile finally crack across your face, and he swiftly closed the remaining distance to rest his weight against yours.

"Good." and he sounded like he meant it.

you know that anaxagoras doesn't apologize for his actions, not because of pride but because he would not regret any of the actions that he had made. that each of his actions were driven with a purpose that would ultimately bring him closer to his goals.

when his hand carefully rested above yours after a while, the warmth spoke more than his clumsy attempts at making it for his apparent misstep. you gazed back upon the twinkling constellations, with the weight of anaxagoras' presence sitting close to your side.

your shooting star, if only for a moment, paused in his relentless pursuit to accompany you for the night.

it wasn't quite an apology, but it was more than enough.

(p.s. first time trying to do this so please tell me your thoughts? would you also want an anaxa pov to compliment this hehe)

[tateypots]

The Party

18+ MDNI

Pairing: multiple dark characters (see moodboard) x f!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: Offering to help your new stepdad host a party for his family doesn’t turn out the way you expect.

A/N: full disclosure, this is fully unhinged. This is very dark, please heed the warnings before reading. I am not responsible for what you consume on the internet.

I tried to post this last night but tumblr was being an ass and wouldn’t let me so now I’m posting at 5:30am on my phone in the airport so chances are it’s riddled with issues that I’m too tired to check for 😬

Warnings: non-con, drugging, step cest, oral (f!receiving, tit play, anal play, unprotected piv, anal, creampie, talk of previous non-con activity. Let me know if I missed anything.

“Well now ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Joel told you as you skipped down the stairs.

“Really?” you asked, twiddling with the hem of your sundress, your skin warming at his praise.

“Absolutely babygirl, give me a twirl,” he directed, spinning his index finger at you. You bit your bottom lip to try and stifle the huge grin that was threatening to break over your face and complied with his request, spinning on the spot, causing the hem of your dress to flare out, flashing more of your bare thighs to his gaze.

“Hmm, pretty as a picture. You sure you want to waste your Saturday hanging out with us crusty old fellas?”

“Of course, I’m dying to meet the rest of your family.”

“They’re your family now too babygirl.”

“All the more reason for me to get to know them.”

When your mom had found out she had to go away for work the weekend of the party you’d offered to help host. Truthfully you did have a slight ulterior motive for opting to stay in and help your new stepdad throw a birthday bash for one of his many cousins. You’d seen photos of them and knew they were all impossibly handsome, the family resemblance striking. You were hoping one of the younger ones might be single and would help distract you from the devastating crush you had developed on Joel.

You felt like such a sicko lusting after your stepdad. But he was so broad and strong and handsome. And kind and attentive too. When you’d returned to Austin after graduating he’d insisted you move in with him and your mom despite them being newlyweds when he found out all you could afford were shitty apartments on the bad side of town.

“You’re family babygirl, I wouldn’t be able to live myself if somethin’ happened to ya,” he’d told you with a grin.

And three weeks ago when you’d arrived with a car packed full of your belongings he wouldn’t let you lift a finger unloading. He and Tommy had transferred everything from the car to your new room which he had freshly decorated in your favourite colour.

Watching his biceps bulge while lugging boxes had been where it started. The urge to go over and bite them was almost overwhelming. Suddenly you understood your mother rushing off to Vegas with him after only 6 months of dating.

///

“Is there anything I can do to help set up?” you asked him, desperate to get away from him for a few minutes before you spontaneously combusted.

“Could start settin’ the table, the boys’ll be here any minute.”

You scurry out into the yard, letting out a deep breath and trying to pull yourself together, purposefully ignoring the dampness in your panties and start laying the table on the deck.

Joel is in the kitchen piling up burgers and steaks for the grill when the door opens and the boys pile in, led by Tommy and all carrying cases of beer, bickering over who was at fault for the Longhorns latest defeat.

He greets them all with a hug and a slap to the back, stealing Frankie’s cap and ruffling his hair, “happy birthday Frankie boy, gettin’ old now.”

“Not as old as you, getting greyer every time I see you,” Frankie retorts, grabbing back his cap and plonking it back on his head.

“That’s not cos he’s old, that’s just what bein’ married does to ya,” Tommy guffaws, setting Joel’s eyes rolling.

“Speaking of which, I hear your beautiful lady won’t be joining us tonight. Such a shame, I hope you have lined up alternative entertainment for this auspicious occasion,” Ezra enquires as he cracks open a beer.

“What do you take me for?! Of course I have, and honestly, I’m spoilin’ you boys tonight,” Joel tells them as he notices you peeking round the door from the kitchen, “ah there she is, come in babygirl, let me introduce you.”

You scuttle over to his side, suddenly flustered by the group of big burly men surrounding you. You’re grateful when Joel wraps a big arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“Fellas, this is my lovely stepdaughter,” he gives them your name before pointing them all out to you, “this here is Dave, Javier, Ezra and the birthday boy Frankie. Tommy you know.”

You shake their hands as they’re introduced, wishing Frankie a happy birthday as well. Tommy pulls you away from Joel’s side into a tight bear hug that sets you giggling, “Tommy!” you squeal as he squeezes you tight.

“That’s Uncle Tommy to you sweetheart!” he retorts, finally releasing you with a laugh of his own.

///

You spend the afternoon getting to know them all. Dave you learn is married with two daughters, he is calm and serious, Javier is quiet and aloof and smokes like a chimney. Ezra could talk the hind legs off a donkey and spends hours regaling you with tales of his travels. But Frankie. Frankie is sweet and charming and so adorably handsome you almost want to swoon. Much to your dismay though your growing attraction to Frankie does nothing to dampen your attraction to Joel and more than once during the day you zone out thinking of them bending you over and spit roasting you on their cocks.

The sun is setting when you first start to feel it. You’d decided to stop drinking an hour ago having sunk far more beer than you were used to throughout the day and you were feeling more than a little buzzed. But they’d all cajoled you into one more beer which Joel had handed to you before you could change your mind.

The now empty bottle slips from your hand as your head begins to feel foggy. Surely one extra beer couldn’t have tipped you that far into drunkenness could it? But your arms and legs feel heavy and you’re struggling to coordinate them.

You try to push away from Frankie’s shoulder, where you’ve been resting your head for the last few hours, cuddled into his side. You manage with a struggle to push yourself into sitting upright but you feel off kilter and you can’t tell if it is your body or the ground beneath you that is swaying.

“You ok babygirl?” Joel asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, should’ve stopped before that last beer,” you mumble, fighting to get the words out.

“Ok babygirl I got ya. Fellas why don’t we move this party inside,” Joel suggests as he saunters over and helps you to your feet. You hear the others heading inside as Joel supports you towards the house.

You’re embarrassed for getting so drunk and showing yourself and Joel up. You want to cry with shame. “M’sorry Joel, think I just need to go to bed and sleep it off.”

“Oh baby, you can’t go to sleep just yet, the party’s just getting’ started,” he murmurs in your ear as he guides you into the living room. The rest of them are there, eyes on you. Hungry, dangerous eyes.

Joel brings you to stand in front of him and you lean back against his massive frame to keep yourself upright. His huge hands settle on your belly, the heat of them searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Alright fellas time for the main event, let me show you what’s on offer tonight.” His hands run up your body until they’re cupping your breasts, gently squeezing and leaving you breathless. You struggle to keep up with what is happening.

“Joel, what’re yo-“

“Shhhhh babygirl, its ok, just stand there real pretty f’me ok.”

His hands leave your breasts, one settling back on your belly as he pushes you forward slightly. You hear a zipper and feel cool air on the skin of your back, feel his hands pushing the dress off your shoulders, feel the gentle caress of the fabric as it slips down your body. Joel pulls you back into his torso, his hands now rubbing over your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Fuck she’s pretty,” Frankie says with a whistle.

“Ain’t she just,” Joel replies, kissing up your neck. The confusion spills over into upset and tears start to fall from your eyes. You had wanted him. Had wanted Frankie too but not like this.

“Don’t cry babygirl,” he coos in your ear, “we’re just goin’ to have a little fun, you won’t even remember in the morning.” You choked out a sob, far from reassured.

“You sampled her yet Joel?” Dave asked.

“Course I have, she has the sweetest little cunt.”

“As good as her mama’s?”

“Better.”

You wailed and tried to wriggle free of him but your body was slow and uncooperative, his grip on you tightened as he slipped his hand beneath the elastic of your panties, running his fingers over your clit sending a jolt through you.

“Liberate her titties Joel,” Ezra demanded, leaning so far off his chair he was in danger of falling off, licking his lips as Joel undid the clasp of your bra. You futilely brought your hands up to try and keep it in place but it was ripped from your body and thrown to the ground, your hands wrenched down to your sides leaving you on full display for the perverted group you had foolishly hoped to call family.

“Jesus, Mary and all that is fuckin’ holy, I cannot wait to suck on those beauties,” Ezra declared, palming at his crotch and groaning with pleasure.

“Alright boys, lets get this show on the road,” Joel said, turning you and all but dragging you into the hallway and down towards your bedroom. You stumbled and struggled and tried you pull away but Joel’s persistent grip around your midsection kept you upright and moving towards the site of your impending violation.

Once in your room he dropped you unceremoniously onto your bed. He leant over to kiss your forehead, and grope at your breast. “It’ll be easier on you if you’re good babygirl, you might even enjoy it. But if not, some of the boys prefer it with a little bit of fight.” Another sob wracked through you as he moved to pull your panties down and off your body.

Turning to face the group clustered by your bedroom door he walked over to Frankie and shoved your panties into his shirt pocket.

“Frankie gets first go as it’s his birthday,” he said, clapping him on the back. Needing no further prompting and ignoring the groans of the men behind him, Frankie made his way over to you, swivelling his cap round to sit it backwards on his head. He spread your legs and dove face first into your pussy, moaning in delight.

He ate you like you were his last meal, sloppy and desperate. His tongue was everywhere, sampling every nook and cranny of your cunt.

He flicked and licked and suckled your clit until you were moaning and jolting beneath him, his beefy arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep them spread for him.

“She’s so fucking sweet, Jesus, I’ve never tasted a pussy this good,” he moaned before diving right back in, stuffing his tongue into your hole and fucking you relentlessly with it as his thumb circled your clit. You came with a cry, sobbing through your aftershocks as the others watched with rapt attention.

Frankie didn’t relent, diving right back in and began devouring you again.

“Alright fellas you know the rules, no marking, and no one fucks her ass, everything else is fair game,” Joel instructed. “Ok, lets give Frankie some privacy now.” He herded the others out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

///

You came on his tongue twice more before he pulled his cock free of his pants and pushed himself inside of you with a low groan. You were unsure whether it was whatever drug they had slipped you or his preparation that dulled the burn of his massive cock stretching your walls.

“You feel so fucking good baby, perfect fucking pussy,” Frankie crooned in your ear as he thrust himself into you. You couldn’t even look at him, your head turned to the side, tears streaming down your face, and your eyes closed tight. It didn’t seem to bother him. He just kept using you and singing your praises, honeyed venom dripping in your ear. Just a few short hours ago you would have given anything to have this man between your thighs. Now all you felt was despair.

His hips pumped relentlessly into you in a slow, steady pace as he lay atop you fully. That made it so much worse. The intimacy of the position. He took you as a lover, not an assailant, and it made you want to crawl out of your skin.

His thrusts turned sloppy and uneven and with one final brutal thrust he came with a cry, emptying himself deep inside you, rope after rope of hot cum spraying your walls.

He sagged on top of you before pulling out with a groan, pulling his boxers and pants up from his knees and bending over to give you a kiss on the forehead before exiting the room.

You wanted to curl up into a little ball but your body remained frozen and disobliging exactly as he left you, lying with your legs spread wide, the torturous slow drip of his cum from your fucked out hole staining the sheets below you.

You closed your eyes, praying for the oblivion of sleep, Joel’s words echoing in your head, “you won’t even remember in the morning.” The idea left you sickened but you hoped for it all the same. You’d give anything to go back to a few hours ago, when you’d felt safe and secure, when you’d looked into their eyes and seen nothing of the depraved monsters they turned out to be. You supposed memory loss was the closest to a time machine you’d get.

You heard footsteps and felt the bed dip as someone sat beside you. Your eyes remained closed. You had no desire to look at whoever it was that had come in. As much as you’d like to hope that your ordeal would end with Frankie, you knew better. You’d seen the hunger written over all their faces. You knew this night was far from over.

The feeling of something soft and damp between your thighs had you whimpering.

“There, there cariño, let’s get you all cleaned up.” Javier. “Frankie gave you a big load huh? That boy always cums so much, spurts like a fucking geyser.” This was the most he’d spoken to you all day.

You sobbed again, fresh tears gathering at your waterline as you felt his fingers exploring you, spreading you wide for his greedy eyes.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mused as he stroked you. “Thought your mama’s was the prettiest I’d ever seen but it’s no competition baby.”

You felt nauseous at the comparison. Had they done this to her too? Drugged her and used her or had she gone to them willingly? Had she known what she was leaving you to with her absence?

You tried unsuccessfully to pull your body away from him. Tried to raise your arms to push him away but he batted them away as if they were made of straw.

He manhandled you onto your front with ease, grabbing a pillow to stuff under your hips and pulling down his pants, moving with urgency now, “got to get inside you baby, your little pussy is calling for me.”

He stuffed himself inside you in one brutal thrust and a deep groan, immediately setting a brutal pace, hands tight at your hips to hold you steady.

“Fuck yes, take it baby, take it all, just like that.”

And you did. You had no choice. You lay there and let him pound you into the mattress, wishing you could block out the sounds of his pleasure.

He reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you up and forcing a deep arch into your back, his other hand reaching round to grab at your tit, pinching and rolling your nipple until you were moaning beneath him.

“That’s it baby, cum on my cock, make a mess all over it.”

You had no energy to fight against it. Your orgasm washed over you as you clenched around him. You felt him pulse and twitch as he unloaded inside of you.

He released your hair, letting you slump back onto the bed. He ran his hands down your back to give your ass a squeeze as he dismounted.

You heard the shuffling of fabric and the sound of a zipper as he stuffed himself back in his pants. He leant over to press a kiss into your hairline.

“Good girl baby, took it so good for me. Hope Joel lets us have another turn with you someday, that’s not a one time pussy you got there.”

Leaving you with the sickening thought of enduring this again he departs, leaving you once again spread on your bed unable to move, soaking your pillows at both ends.

And so one by one they used you. Tommy jackhammering into you, whispering praises about what a good little niece you were. Ezra worshipping your “glorious titties,” pinching and licking and sucking until your nipples were swollen and raw before shoving his cock between them and squeezing them tight around his thick girth, fucking them til he exploded, painting them in thick, creamy white. He ate your ass until he was hard again and then dove into your pussy like he owned it, the loud squelching of his cock pummelling through other loads of cum you’d already taken making you feel nauseous once more.

Dave came next. By this point the drugs were starting to wear off, your movement freer, your head clearer. You punched and hit at him, managing to scramble off the bed and away from him. But even at full capacity you’d be no match for Dave. For any of them. He let you stumble out of the room and lurch your way down the hall, following you at a leisurely pace, pulling his hard cock out as he went, enjoying the game.

Just as you reached the front door he pounced on you, wrestling you to the floor and forcing your legs apart before taking you right there on the floor of the hallway as you fought and screamed and cried. He came with a roar, the now familiar heat pulsing in your thoroughly used pussy.

He pulled out and you felt a gush, semen spilling out of you onto the hardwood floor. He walked away from you without even bothering to push his softening cock back into his pants.

You finally curled up into a little ball, as your body had been craving to do since this nightmare began. But you weren’t left in peace for long.

“C’mon babygirl, lets get you back into bed.” Joel hauled you back to your feet and once again dragged you back to your bedroom. You sniffled and whimpered, out of energy, out of resistance.

When he left you on your bed you hoped and prayed that was the end of it. But he returned a minute later with a glass of water and you curled yourself up into a ball once more as he sat on the bed next to you.

“You’ve done real well sweetheart, been such a good girl for us. It’s nearly done babygirl, you’ll be able to rest soon,” he promised, his big hand settled over your hip and his thumb stoking your skin in what you assumed he intended to be a soothing way.

“Please leave me alone,” you bawled, “I can’t take anymore.”

“Shhh babygirl it’s ok. Here, drink this, it’ll make it all better.” He shuffled up the bed closer to your head but you pushed yourself away from him, rolling to the other side of the bed.

“I’m not going to drink that, I’m never touching anything you give me ever again you sick bastard!”

“Watch your mouth babygirl, you don’t talk to me like that. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way but you are gona drink this down one way or the other. If I have to call in the others to hold you down you might not like what happens. Those boys are itchin’ for another round with you and if you’re gona be a brat I might be inclined to let them have at it.”

You wailed, “no, please no more. Please!”

“Then drink it down like a good girl, c’mon sit up.”

Closing your eyes and crying your heart out you hesitantly complied with his instructions.

“There we go, that’s it. This’ll make it all better I promise, you’ll fall right to sleep once it kicks in and you’ll wake up and it’ll be like this never even happened, don’ that sound nice?”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, it did. You hated yourself for your weakness but the thought of being burdened with the memory of this night was devastating. You wanted, no needed the oblivion of ignorance. So you took the glass from Joel and downed it in one go.

“There we go, that wasn’ so hard was it?”

You shook your head, the motion already leaving you feeling woozy. You slumped back on the bed and let the tendrils of fog slowly start to take over your brain. You felt Joel part your legs but made no move to stop him. You closed your eyes and concentrated on the feeling of weightlessness that was settling over your body.

“Oh baby, your poor pussy, she’s all used up huh?” he asked, running his fingers through your defiled slit. You assumed it was rhetorical and didn’t bother responding. “Don’ worry baby, she’s done for the night, once you’re asleep I’ll get her all cleaned up and she’ll be good as new by the time you wake up.”

Before the relief could fully consume you at his words you felt his fingers dip lower, spreading the wetness down around your other hole. You tried to tell him no, to leave you alone but all that slipped from your mouth was a loud moan as he applied more pressure to your puckered asshole and slipped a finger in to the first knuckle. He slowly began pumping it, sinking further and further into you.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. I thought I was never gona experience anything better than your tight little pussy but think I’m gona have to start fuckin’ this ass every night from now on.”

The words floated through your hazy brain but with nothing to latch onto they flitted away like feathers in the wind.

You felt his finger retreat. Felt him spread your legs even further apart. Felt the insistent pressure of his large cock finally sinking into your previously unclaimed hole, his moan loud enough to wake the dead.

“Jesus babygirl, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

He pushed your thighs up towards your chest as he slowly sawed in and out of your tight channel. You were aware of the movement but felt nothing more, your brain fully detaching from the physical world as the drug took over your body.

He sped up as he looked down at you, so fucking beautiful all spread open for him, tits jiggling with every thrust. His movements got faster and harder, sinking into previously unreached depths of your body.

“That’s it, takin’ it so good for me. This hole’s mine babygirl, those boys ain’t ever gonna get it. Fuck, so good,” he moaned, feeling as close to heaven as he was ever likely to get.

He railed into you, chasing the orgasm he’d been staving off all night listening to his family fuck you. He dropped his thumb over your clit and went to town, your body responding on autopilot to the sensations he was forcing on you.

He watched your battered pussy clench around nothing as you came, pushing out globs of cum and it sent him hurtling over the edge. He pushed himself as deep as he could go and filled you with a growl, safe in the knowledge that his deposit was pure. All him, not the mixed up medley currently leaking out of your cunt. How he wished he could plug you up to keep it all inside. But he couldn’t risk giving the game away.

After all, he was fairly certain he was close to having you give yourself over to him willingly. He didn’t want to jeopardise that. And until then, Javier had refilled his drug stash to tide him over. Because willingly or not, you were made to be his perfect little fuck toy.

///

Tagging some people who showed interest in the WIP, let me know if you want to be removed. @magpiepills @itwasntimethatdidit40 @baronessvonglitter @strang3lov3 @romanarose @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @pinkypromisepascal @sunshinehaze1

[galactic-magick]

here i come with arcane prompts bestie >:3

but this one might hurt ;-;

also SPOILERS FOR S1 IF ANYONE HASNT SEEN IT YET

/////

how about a reader's reaction to the council getting bombed O_O

their frantic attempts to find their lover(Viktor ofc :3), but who they find may not be the man they once knew TwT

I got a little carried away with this one bestie...

-

I Thought You Were Dead: Viktor x Reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Smut about halfway through. I put a *** before the smut starts in case anyone doesn't want to read that part. Reader has afab anatomy but no pronouns or feminine specific endearments are used. Also LORE SPOILERS, if you don't know what happens to Viktor in the League of Legends lore then don't read this!!

Author's Notes: This could be read as a part 2 to my other Viktor fic Nights Like This, which takes place in Act 1 whereas this takes place after season 1.

-

-

-

The explosion was deafening.

You can feel your soul sink as soon as you step outside your house, watching the smoke surround the council building. Your feet start running before you’ve processed anything, pushing through the gasping crowds in the streets with their eyes glued to the same devastating spectacle.

Tears stream down your face against the dusty wind, praying to anyone who will listen that your worst fear hasn’t happened. Running as if getting there faster might change the outcome.

It can’t end like this. Not when you haven’t said everything you want to say. Not when you have so much left to do together.

Not when you haven’t said goodbye.

The truth is, you haven’t even seen your husband in several days, maybe even a whole week. He’s been distant lately, so consumed by his experiments that he rarely comes home anymore. You knew what you were getting into marrying a scientist, especially the finest scientist in Piltover, but it still hurts. It hurts to see him driving himself mad and getting sicker, refusing to let you take care of him like he used to. He doesn’t like when you come to visit him at the lab because it’s too dangerous, and he doesn’t come home because he wants to be in the lab—so you’ve stopped trying. You can’t bear to see him hardly eat or sleep for days. You know he loves you, and you still love him, but right now there’s no getting through to him, and all you can do is wait it out until he either comes to his senses or succumbs to his torturous research.

Your mind flashes back to all the fights you had, begging him to come home, begging him to let you stay by his side. You both said things you shouldn’t have, hearts torn apart in mourning of a marriage that once was so perfect. You miss the nights where you were each other's safe space, where the world didn’t feel so grand and overwhelming. You wonder when it was exactly that you stopped fighting, when you gave up on begging and simply loved him as much as you could whenever you finally saw him.

A large battalion of enforcers encircle the scene, pushing back civilians as they attempt to view what happened. The rubble has fallen into mountains, several of them on fire.

You know he was in there. He must’ve been.

“Where are the survivors?!” you demand, shoving against the enforcers.

“We have not found any yet. Please return to your home-”

You pull out the knife you keep in your pocket for emergencies, pressing it against the enforcer’s throat, “My husband was in there. I am not leaving until I find him.”

The other enforcers turn their weapons towards you, and you quickly realize you’ll never beat them with nothing but a dagger and deep rooted rage.

You drop the knife to the ground and put your hands up, awaiting your fate. Would they kill you? Send you home with a warning? Trial you?

Well, not without a council.

“Please…” the sobs return, their weapons still pointing at you. “I just want to know if he’s alive. Just let me look for his body-”

You’re cut off by hands on your wrists and mouth, handcuffing you and knocking you out.

Several months later...

You should’ve known any retaliation against an enforcer could get you thrown in here.

Back against the stone wall of your cell in Stillwater, you envision that day once again, hating yourself for being so stupid. Without the council, the enforcers have started throwing literally anyone in here. In an attempt to contain the chaos of no longer having a government, even the smallest crime or protest is equivalent to murder. All you did was threaten an officer for information on your husband, but that was enough to banish you from any possibility of ever seeing him again.

If he was alive, would he know to come find you? Or would he go back home to find you gone and assume you died? Would he throw himself back into his research regardless of the tragic accident, not even noticing you haven’t tried to visit him in months?

Most days it’s easier to just tell yourself he’s dead. The man you loved so deeply no longer exists, and you’ll never love again. This is your life now, cold and dark and hopeless.

You sink to the floor, leaning on your side in an effort to get some sleep.

Though your slumber is awakened not long after by terrifying noises down the hall.

A collection of screams, an alarm bell, and loud clanging fill your ears. You jump up, looking through the bars of your cell to get a glimpse. You see nothing, but then begin to hear stomping footsteps thundering towards your end of the hall.

You stumble back to the far wall, shaking as the footsteps get closer.

The first thing you see is a pair of glowing orange eyes staring at you through the bars, and your breath leaves your lungs.

Is this really how you’re fated to die?

With ease, the mysterious figure rips off the door with what looks like a mechanical arm. The dim light hits him, and your entire body trembles. He’s covered in metal plating and armor, his face covered with a thick mask. He doesn’t strike you as human, except for what looks like human hair falling around his head.

He walks towards you, and you cower in his shadow. What does this machine want from you? You have nothing.

He says your name, and you freeze. It’s modulated and echoed from the mask, but you are certain that’s what he said.

And you’re also certain you’ve heard that voice before.

The figure reaches his hand towards you, the cold metal of his fingers touching your face. It tingles, as if there’s energy sparking through. His other hand lifts off his mask and drops it to the floor.

“Viktor?”

Parts of his face are covered with metal plating, but it’s undoubtedly him. Same eyes, same nose, same cheekbones. His hair swooping down the sides of his forehead and the small gap between his teeth.

You throw your arms around him and kiss him, your body hitting his metal torso hard enough to leave a bruise, but you don’t care. You kiss him until there’s not a single atom of oxygen left in your lungs, and even then you risk a few seconds more, his lips worthy of causing suffocation. Your fingers slide into his hair, just as soft as your remember. He gently embraces you back, wary of hurting you with how tightly he wishes to hold you.

“Viktor—I went to find you that day—“ you pant for air. “I thought you were dead—“

“I know, darling, I know,” he kisses your forehead before fervently returning to your lips. “I thought you were dead too before I heard word of people being sent here.”

He breaks apart from you and you let out a soft whine, “Vik-”

“I have to get you out of here now, okay?”

You nod in understanding and grab onto him as he puts his mask back on. He races back down the hall, pushing any leftover guards out of his way. You cling onto him, in disbelief that he moves so fast with ease. So many questions run through your mind, but you know you’ll have to wait for answers.

He carries and holds you in silence until you both get to safety. You don’t recognize the place he’s taken you to, but it’s undoubtedly his space. The tools and gadgets all over the tables and walls, the dim light you don’t understand how anyone could work under, the journals with different equations written barely legibly. You wonder if your old home is still standing or has been taken by someone else. Either way, this is your home now.

With him.

He takes off his mask and you’re once again met with his beautiful face. Scarred and tired, but still more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’m so sorry. For everything,” he says. “I know I will never be able to make it up to you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I am never letting you leave my sight again.”

Your bodies instinctively wrap around each-other, him picking you up and setting you down on one of his desks. The sensation is so new, since he’s never been strong enough to lift you before. Despite the novelty though, it feels as if no time has passed, as if this is a routine you’ve done every day, his hands all over you as soon as you’re alone.

You want to ignore the insanity of all this, how the love of your life has returned to you encased in metal. You want to forego all the questions, letting him continue his kisses on your neck and the wandering fingers on your thigh. You wonder what he feels like now—if it’s different—if what he can do to you now will make you forget every tear you ever shed for him.

You sigh, completely drunk on his touches.

“Viktor…” You look into his eyes, tracing your thumbs along his now metallic jaw. “I want to know what happened to you. Please.”

His caresses slow, his focus shifting to your words, “I will tell you everything, I promise,”

You grasp his hands, “Then tell me.”

He exhales, looking down at himself. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. He doesn’t want to risk you thinking of him differently or not loving him the same. Without you, he’d have nothing left to stay human for.

After all, he’s more machine than man now.

“I was as good as dead,” he finally says. “My injuries should’ve killed me, but an old…” he hesitates, “...friend found me. He helped me use hextech and shimmer to fix and augment my body. I’m stronger now, I can help more people now, I can protect you now. I’ve evolved beyond my human ailments-”

“Viktor,” you interrupt him. “Who helped you?”

He falls silent, fully aware you already know the answer.

“How could you?” you scold him. “How could you go back to that horrid, vile man? Who knows what he really did to you?”

“Singed may have unethical methods, but I assure you I’d be dead right now without him. You wouldn’t understand-”

“I understand that he sees you as nothing more than an experiment! What’s going to happen when this new body starts to break down? He’ll replace you with more mechanical parts until there’s nothing left of you. He does anything to make his specimens survive, and you know that!”

“So you’d rather me be dead? You’d rather still be in Stillwater, rotting your days away in misery?”

The floodgates of your glassy eyes break, and you let out the ugliest of sobs that have been building up for too long. No, you don’t want him dead, of course you don’t.

But there are fates worse than death.

You clumsily grab for him, pulling him between your legs and surrounding him with your limbs. Your lips crash together once more, this time more carnal and aggressive. Regardless of how angry you are, you can’t deny that you need him desperately. He cradles your face, wiping your tears away as they fall.

“Just promise me…” you beg into his mouth. “Promise me you won’t go back there again. Stay with me.”

“I promise,” he hums. “But you have to promise me something too.”

“What?” your eyes are already fluttering deliriously.

“You have to promise you’ll let me apologize every day of the rest of our lives,” he brushes his lips against your ear while his hands wander up your shirt, “And I think I know how you want me to do it.”

Your eyes widen, shivers already running down your spine.

***

It’s been so long, your body yearning for his as if you’ve been deprived from him for an eternity. You want to feel his new hands everywhere, his new fingers inside you…

Viktor wastes no time stripping you down, your shirt and bra flung across the room. He buries his face between your breasts for a moment before hoisting you up again, carrying you to the mattress in the corner.

“Since when do you ever have a proper place to sleep in your labs?” you laugh, sinking into the unexpected comfort.

“I didn’t get it for sleeping,” he smirks, placing kisses across your chest and shoulders, “I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I rescued you.”

“You’re telling me you got this bed just to fuck me?”

“Of course,” he shrugs, completely matter-of-factually.

You chuckle, a genuine smile stretching across your face so wide it almost hurts. You haven’t laughed or felt the pure joy and bliss of being in love in so long.

“I…” Viktor speaks again, hovering over you. “I don’t know fully what this new body can do. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you smile, intertwining your fingers with his. “Is it...different?”

“Everything’s different,” he leans down to kiss you again. “Let’s just hope it’s in a good way.”

You nod enthusiastically, pulling him down to you. His cold metal torso presses against yours, a surprisingly pleasant sensation. You quickly acclimate to the new textures of his figure, wondering if any skin still exists.

He remembers all the places you like to be touched and kissed, and you grow more impatient by the minute. You’ve needed him—ached for him. You want him in any way he can give you.

He pulls off the rest of your clothes, teasing his mechanical fingers in circles around your clit.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you moan, slithering your own fingers into his hair.

Viktor’s always been good with his hands, being an inventor and all. He’s never once failed to satisfy you with his hands alone since you’ve been together, and he certainly wasn’t stopping now. He goes slowly, constantly needing reassurance that you’re alright. There’s nothing sharp about his fingers, a relief to both of you. They move just like his old flesh did, pulsing in and out with the finest precision. There’s moments where you feel a slight vibration, although you’re unsure if he’s doing that purposefully. Either way, he keeps you in ecstasy until you eventually come undone.

You pull his lips back up to yours immediately, craving his taste. His hands run down your body once again before returning back to the same spot.

You yelp his name as he works more fingers inside you. This is unheard of, him going back for more so soon. You had grown accustomed to his low stamina from before, and you never minded multiple rounds being a rarity. But now there’s not a single hint of exhaustion on his face, his augments freeing him from much of the pain that used to plague him. Instead there’s determination in his eyes, a drive to make love to you until you can’t take it anymore.

He builds you up to your second orgasm of the night, kissing and holding you softly as you come down from it.

“Viktor…” you sigh, completely out of breath. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down his body, “Darling, I...I’m not sure if everything works the same. You don’t have to worry about me—“

“Let me try,” you plead. “Does any of this come off?”

He nods, removing the outer layers of metal with clicks and hisses. It was hard for you to tell where the armor ended and his body began, but the more he takes off, the more you recognize his familiar silhouette. There’s still patches of flesh here and there—warm skin to your fingertips, fused with the augmentations flawlessly.

And it seems the area you’ve wanted to see is one of the places untouched.

Well, not completely untouched. It’s covered in glowing purple veins, throbbing like they’ll explode any second. Viktor looks into your eyes nervously, and you reassure him with a kiss.

“It’ll be okay,” your breaths are hot, hovering over his lips. “Now tell me what you want, darling.”

“You.” he moans as your hand takes hold of his hardness.

“Everything seems to be working fine to me,” you smile, lining him up with your entrance. “I’m ready when you are.”

He’s shaking, for the first time since all his enhancements. He’s been so strong—no—indestructible, yet one look at you and the vulnerability returns in crashing waves. He’s still the same man you fell in love with, but now he could too easily hurt you.

He presses in slowly, eyes locked on your expressions for any sign of discomfort, but they never come. Instead, the noises and faces you make could be enough for him to finish right then and there if he didn’t have such control.

“Viktor…” you sigh, pulling him towards you as he bottoms out. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He stamps kisses on your jaw, then nuzzles his nose into your neck, “You feel even better than I remembered.”

“Do I now?” you chuckle, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes as he looks back up at you.

“Mmhmm,” he begins to thrust in and out slowly, earning more luscious sounds from your lips.

There’s so much of him that feels the same, but the sensation is so new. Is he bigger than before? Is it just the different texture from the shimmer experiments? You’re not sure, all you truly care about is that he feels divine.

You’re both getting close, whispering “I love you’s” until the long awaited release. He holds you tightly afterwards, refusing to let go until you both catch your breath.

“Viktor,” you ruffle his hair. “As amazing as that was, I don’t think I can handle a round four.”

He chuckles, “That’s alright. I’ll only go as long as you want me to. There’s always tomorrow.”

You giggle, kissing the top of his head. You push yourself up on your elbows, looking at the mess you both made, “I think we ruined your new mattress.”

He glances as well, noticing the cum stains, some of them a light purple color, a supposed side effect of the shimmer, “We’ll get a new one. For now lets get you cleaned up.”

He picks you up in one swift motion, carrying you outside. His new lab is conveniently next to the river, and far away enough from other houses to protect your decency. The water is cold, but not unbearably so. The stickiness rinses off, and you’re left to admire your lover once again in the moonlight.

He glistens under the stars, his gaze soft and sweet, just as it’s always been. His hands never leave you, caressing your wet skin gently and adoringly.

He’s still everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s still the man you’d die and kill for.

He’s still the one you’ll spend the rest of your days with, no matter what he becomes.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 16 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

A/N: Fair warning there might be a couple of typos and shit in this part because I’m too tired to proofread properly

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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The door of the theater falls shut behind us with a loud bang and I can’t stop myself from flinching ever so slightly.

Sam squeezes my hand and I squeeze back, letting my eyes roam around the room.

Nothing’s changed since the last time we were here and I cringe once again at the sight of the mannequins on the stage dressed in the old Ghostface cloaks.

It’s eerily quiet, but the knowledge that backup is ready to jump in and help us when Kirby gives them a signal brings me some sense of peace.

When Sam and I came out of the bathroom earlier Bailey had left to go to the station which gave me the chance to pull Kirby aside and tell her about what we figured out while Sam distracted the others, especially Ethan who kept looking at me with his big doe eyes.

She believed me instantly and we quickly came to the conclusion that in order to end this we either have to kill Bailey, Quinn, and Ethan, or get a confession out of them, so they go to prison for the rest of their lives.

I opted for the latter because I’m sick of people dying, but we agreed that should anything go wrong, we will kill them.

We also agreed that the less people are involved the better, so Kirby called the hospital Anika is at and convinced them to call Mindy in Anika’s name, saying she wanted to see her girlfriend.

We tried to come up with a plan to get Chad out of the way as well, but nothing came to mind, which is why he’s here with us now.

Danny’s also here, but we left him outside under the guise of needing someone to call for help in case something goes wrong.

He doesn’t know that the FBI is already stationed nearby, waiting to be called in by Kirby.

Sam, Kirby, and I are the only ones who know and even though I wanted to tell Tara and Chad, I never got the chance because we were never alone.

At first, Danny and Ethan were with us, and then it was just Danny because I managed to prevent Ethan from getting on the same subway as us by shoving a stranger in his way.

I’m sure he’ll be here soon though, just like Bailey who’s in on the “plan”.

We told him we wanted to trap Ghostface and execute him which he immediately agreed to since he doesn’t know we know about him yet.

He was super supportive and even told us to use public transport to avoid getting targeted, and if I didn’t know better I would have actually believed that he was concerned.

I still don’t know why he, Quinn, and Ethan are doing all this, but I guess we’ll find out sooner.

“I cleared the whole place before you got here,” Kirby says, turning to face us. “This—“ she nods her head at the door we just came in through, “—is the only way in or out.”

“What about weapons?” Sam asks, her hand still in mine.

Tara is holding onto Chad’s arm, nodding along to what Sam just asked.

“One gun and I hold onto it,” Kirby lies. She slipped me a knife earlier when I told her about what we found out.

It’s tucked into the waistband of my pants, hidden by my sweater, and not even Sam knows about it.

I know right now would probably be a good time to come clean and tell Chad and Tara everything we know (and tell Sam about the knife), but we can’t be sure that this place isn’t bugged.

“I’m the only one with a badge, so that’s the way it’s going to be,” Kirby says when the others look at her in disbelief. “We’re safe here,” she adds and even though I know the FBI is on standby outside, I’m still not entirely convinced. There’s three Ghostfaces and four of us, and they’re all armed.

This is going to be fun. . .

I wish we’d had more time to plan, because this is all super reckless, but we can’t risk someone else getting hurt, so it will have to do.

The others look skeptical, too, but no one voices their concerns and a moment later Sam’s phone rings. She disconnects our hands and pulls it out of her pocket, her eyebrows furrowing when she sees that it’s Mindy who’s calling her.

She glances at me and I dip my chin, wordlessly telling her to answer it.

“Mindy? Hey, you okay?” she says. She walks off in search of better reception and I let her be, turning to Chad and Tara who are eyeing the glass display cases with disgust while Kirby makes her own way through the theater, looking at everything with her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sprout. . . Chad,” I say quietly, approaching them. They turn with furrowed eyebrows and smile weakly when they see me.

“Y/N.” Chad exhales sharply and I squeeze his arm reassuringly.

“You guys okay?” I ask.

Tara shakes her head and hugs me while Chad grimaces. “Not really,” she whispers. “I’m scared.”

I sigh and hold her closer. “Yeah, me too.”

“Same. . .” Chad watches us with a forlorn look and I chuckle softly before pulling him into the hug as well.

“You’ll be okay. Both of you, I promise.” I press a kiss to the top of Tara’s head and nudge Chad.

They both shudder and tighten the hug before my phone rings and I’m forced to pull away.

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach as I pull it out of my pocket, but then the sight of Paige’s name flashing across the screen makes me relax again.

It’s not Ghostface, Y/N. Calm down.

“Paige, hey. Everything okay? Are you in the city yet?”

Despite the situation, Paige laughs softly. “Yes, everything’s fine. I’m not in the city yet, I still have two hours to go. I’m just calling to tell you that the hospital called.”

The tentative smile that pulled at my lips just a second ago vanishes and I tighten my grip on the phone. “A-and?”

“Lee’s still in surgery, but he’s stable.”

Tears prick at my eyes and I spin around to avoid Tara’s and Chad’s concerned looks. “Okay, that’s good. That’s really good.”

I swallow thickly to get rid of the growing lump in my throat and Paige sighs on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, it is. . . so what about you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but—“

The lights turn off and the call disconnects. A scream pierces through the silent theater and I whirl around.

Tara.

She and Chad seem to be unharmed, but they’re tripping over their feet, trying to get away from something, of rather, someone.

It’s hard to make out what’s happening in the dark, but even before a homemade Stab movie gets projected onto the white curtains that have been lowered in front of the stage, I know that Ghostface is here.

Baile, Ethan and Quinn are here, right now, and we didn’t see it coming.

How didn’t we know? There’s only one entrance and we would have heard them come in. Right?

But what if Kirby overlooked a different entrance? What if she didn’t search the place probably?

Speaking of Kirby, my blood runs cold when my eyes land on her. Her face is covered in blood, and it looks like her nose is broken, but what’s more important is the blood on her shirt from a stab wound in her stomach and the knife pressed against her neck by Ghostface, standing behind her.

Ethan or Quinn. . . Bailey is taller.

“Fuck.” I rush to pull Tara and Chad behind me, feeling anger rising in the pit of my stomach when Ghostface tilts his head mockingly.

This is not how this was supposed to go down. Kirby was supposed to stay hidden, she was supposed to observe and call for backup.

Movement out of the corner of my eye makes my heart skip a beat, but when I turn my head, there’s nothing there.

A second later though I feel a presence on my other side, and I whirl around, expecting another Ghostface, but it’s just Sam, wide-eyed and panting.

“They’re here,” she breathes, “They’re—“ she freezes when her eyes land on Kirby, “—Fuck.”

She grabs my arm, and together we shield Chad and Tara while Ghostface continues to watch us wordlessly.

Kirby is deathly still in his hold, despite the obvious pain she’s in because she knows that if she even attempts to reach for her gun or her radio, her throat will be slit.

Some blood is already trickling down her throat because of how hard Ghostface is pressing the knife against her skin, and I shiver, remembering how I was in that same position a year ago.

Every breath, every blink could be your last one, and it’s a horrifying experience.

This is definitely not how I thought this would go. Was I skeptical of our half-assed planned? Yes. Was I expecting it to go off the rails at some point? Also, yes, but I didn’t think shit would be hitting the fan this quickly.

Well, there’s no point in keeping my mouth shut any longer.

“Let her go, Ethan. She has nothing to do with this,” I say lowly. I know it’s him because Quinn is even shorter than her brother and she probably wouldn’t have had the strength to overwhelm Kirby.

Ghostface falters ever so slightly, obviously surprised that I know who’s under the mask, but he doesn’t move or say anything.

“What are you doing?” Tara hisses, tugging on the back of my sweater. “That’s not Ethan.”

Sam squeezes my arm, and I glance over my shoulder for a split second to meet Tara’s eyes. “Yes it is,” I say, forcing myself to sound calm. “He’s behind all of this with Quinn and Bailey.”

“What?” Chad lets out a surprised gasp.

Someone starts clapping slowly behind us and we all whirl around to see Bailey standing there next to another Ghostface.

He’s smiling menacingly and claps one more time before exhaling dramatically. “I knew you’d figure it out. I mean, the way you looked at me at the police station after the bodega. . . I knew you knew something was up.”

I narrow my eyes, but stay quiet.

There’s no way to get a confession out of all of them now, at least not one we can use against them in court because Kirby was supposed to record everything, so we’re moving on to plan b.

Kill them. Kill all of them. Make them pay for what they’ve done to Liam, Gale, Anika, and Brooks, and for how they tired to frame Sam for what happened im Woodsboro.

“Also, Ethan saw you talking to Kirby, so I knew we had to do something sooner rather than later to make you pay.”

“Make us pay?” Sam asks indignantly. “For what?!”

The homemade Stab movie still playing in the background flickers eerily, casting weird shadows over everyone’s face, but especially Bailey’s when it tightens in anger.

He pulls out his gun and waves it around. “For killing my son!”

“Your son?” Tara snaps over my shoulder.

“Yeah, he’s right there.” I gesture at the Ghostface still pressing a knife to Kirby’s neck.

Bailey snorts and the Ghostface next to him takes off his mask.

Quinn.

I knew it, and so did Sam, but Chad and Tara suck in a breath behind me.

Ethan takes off his mask as well, somehow managing to do it without letting go of Kirby.

“Not him!” Quinn snaps with wild eyes before pointing her knife at Sam. “You killed—“

The curly hair, the thick eyebrows. . . E.K. Ethan Kirsch.

“Richie. . .” I say through clenched teeth.

Sam’s hand around my upper arm tightens. “You’re Richie’s family?!”

Tara and Chad shift uncomfortably, but they don’t say a word.

Of course they’re Richie’s family. How did I not see that coming?

They want revenge for what Sam did to him and they started it all by spreading rumors about her online, so when they kill her, kill us, people will just suspect some rando who took matters into his own hands after he found out Sam was the “real” Ghostface.

How fucked up is that. . .

I glance at Kirby while Bailey, Ethan, and Quinn catch the others up on what I just figured out, and nod subtly when her fingers graze against the pocket of her leather jacket.

The radio. . . We need to call for backup. We need to get out of here.

There has to be a second exit we don’t know about because how else would Bailey, Ethan, and Quinn have gotten into the theater unnoticed.

My call with page was disconnected, probably because Bailey turned on some kind of signal jammer, which could mean the radio is also useless, but getting my hands on it and trying to call for back up is worth a try anyway.

I mean, don’t radios and cell phones operate on different frequencies?

All thoughts of frequencies are quickly forgotten when Bailey steps forward and holds out a weathered Ghostface mask.

“This is your father’s, Sam,” he says. “Quinn’s got Stu Macher’s and Ethan has Nacy Loomis’s, your grandmother’s. . .”

“It really runs in your fucking family, doesn’t it,” Ethan pipes up, and the way Sam’s breath hitches next to me makes me want to bash his head in.

This is exactly what she’s afraid of, being like them, and I just know it’s going to take a lot of therapy and a lot of pep talks to make her, once again, believe she really isn’t anything like them

Tara sniffles quietly, and I reach behind me to squeeze her hand when she holds onto the hem of my sweater.

“This is what we’ve been counting down to,” Bailey says, waving the mask around with the same crazy look in his eyes as Quinn. “I’m going to need you to put it on.”

Oh, hell no.

Sam breathes heavily, and for a split second I think she’s going to take it—she’s going to give them what they want after all, but then she lets go of my arm and smacks the mask out of Bailey’s hand.

“Fuck you!” she spits and her confidence fills me with so much pride that I don’t react fast enough when Quinn lunges forward, slicing Sam’s exposed upper arm with her knife.

She was wearing my zip up hoodie earlier, but it’s so hot in here she must have taken it off while on the phone with Mindy, leaving her in only her gray tank top.

Shit, Mindy. . . Why was she calling in the first place? Is she okay?

There’s no way to find out now, so I quickly pull Sam back against me, out of reach of Quinn while she presses a hand to the cut on her arm.

It’s only superficial, but it’s already bleeding pretty badly and it will definitely need stitches.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tara shouts, trying to step out from behind me, but Chad holds her back with an arm around her waist.

“You’re a killer, just like your father, Sam,” Bailey says, pointing an accusing finger at Sam and this time, unlike when Ethan opened his stupid mouth, I don’t hold back.

“No, she’s not you!” I snap, baring my teeth. With her free hand, Sam squeezes my arm around her middle, either to silently thank me for standing up for her or to get me to settle down.

“Yes, she is you motherfucker!” Quinn screams. “She killed Richie like the cold-blooded psycho that she is!”

That’s it!

I let go of Sam and rush forward to tackle Quinn, but Ethan is quick to react. He shoves Kirby aside and jumps in my way before I can get to his sister, stabbing me in the shoulder right below my collar bone—right below the scar on my neck where Amber stabbed me.

“Ah, you fucking little twig,” I exclaim, squaring my shoulders, ready to take him down instead when Sam pulls me back by the back of my sweater.

“No, run!” she shouts and I spin around, knowing she’s right.

Tara and Chad are already weaving through the glass cases, trying to get to the metal door we came in through and Sam and I follow them.

Quinn and Ethan are hot on our heels while Bailey shouts how he knew Sam had to die when he saw the pictures of what she did to Richie.

Everyone who had something to do with his death dies. . . Yeah, no thanks.

Amidst the chaos, the fact that we don’t have the key card to unlock the door dawns on me the moment we’re standing in front of it. Chad tries to pry it open, but it doesn’t budge and when Quinn and Ethan’s footsteps get louder behind us I exclaim, “Forget about it. We’re not getting out this way! There has to be another exit!”

“The roof!” Tara says. “I saw an exit sign leading to the roof behind the seats on the balcony overlooking the stage.”

The roof? Seriously? We’ll be trapped there, too, unless there’s a fire escape.

Anything’s better than this though, I think as Ethan and Quinn skirt around the corner.

“Okay, go left! There’s a staircase up to the balcony!” I shout and we start running again, abandoning the metal door, which could possibly still be our only way out.

Somewhere in the theater a shot gets fired, and I pray to God that Kirby is okay, but I don’t have time to dwell on it as we get to the staircase.

I yank on Sam’s arm and pull her in front of me, and usher her to follow Chad and Tara, but she stops when she notices me freezing on the bottom step.

“What are you doing? Come on!” Urgency seeps into her voice and she tries to drag me up the stairs, but I don’t move.

“No, get to the roof and get help, I’ll buy you some time,” I say, pulling out the knife Kirby gave me.

If Quinn and Ethan want to get to the others, they’ll have to go through me first.

Sam’s eyes widen when they land on the gleaming blade and she shakes her head adamantly. “Fuck no! I’ve left you behind twice now, I’m not doing it again!”

“Sam— I—“ I want to protest, but then Quinn appears with a lazy smile, dragging the blade of her knife along the wall, seemingly in no hurry to get to us any more.

No, no, no. Why’s she so calm. What’s going on?! Where’s Ethan?!

“Y/N!” Sam urges, which snaps me out of my thoughts.

Right. We’ve got to move, no matter how slow Quinn is walking, she’s going to get to us eventually if we don’t move.

“Shit. Yeah, okay! Go, go, go!” I follow Sam up the stairs, taking two of them at a time with my heart pounding in my ears until we get to the top.

Oh damn, we’re higher up than I expected.

It’s at least a ten foot drop from the balcony to the main floor of the theater, but that’s not what I’m worried about.

No, what I’m worried about is Ethan, who’s blocking our path to the roof because he somehow managed to climb the scaffolding connecting the balcony and the main floor to our right.

Tara and Chad are rooted to the ground, staring at him while he simply waves his knife mockingly.

“You really thought you guys could get away?” He laughs and I grab Sam’s hand and spin us around when I hear Quinn coming up the stairs behind us. “Yeah, no. You’re all going to die here tonight and pay for what you did to Richie.”

Tara whimpers and she and Chad take several steps back until their backs are pressed against Sam’s and mine.

The weight of Kirby’s knife in my hand, the one that isn’t holding Sam’s, does nothing to ground me.

We’re caged in and there’s nothing I can do without risking getting hurt because both Ethan and Quinn also have a knife.

“Richie deserved everything he got!” Sam spits next to me. “He was pathetic and killed innocent people just so he could make a new Stab movie! A fucking movie!”

“He loved those movies!” Quinn exclaims angrily and I can’t help but scowl at her.

“That doesn’t excuse what he did! How deluded are you to think that it’s okay to kill people just so you can make a movie?!”

“Shut up!” Ethan shouts and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s absolutely livid right now.

I don’t shut up though. Not only because I can’t stop myself from going on, but because I need to get him to snap and move so we can get to the roof.

“I mean, how fucked up is it that your dad brainwashed you into avenging your brother’s death? He’s a grown ass man and he’s using his kids to do his bidding. Really gets you thinking about who the favorite child is, or was in this case, doesn’t it?”

Quinn’s face contorts into a grimace of rage and I can see both her and Ethan lunging at us from miles away, so I act before they can.

I let go of Sam’s hand and pick up a discarded scaffolding pipe, shoving it into Chad’s hands before turning back around and kicking the side of Quinn’s knee when she comes at us.

She cries out in pain and goes down, and I spin around just in time to see Chad knocking the knife out of Ethan’s hand with the pipe.

“You piece of shit, you know nothing about us!” Ethan shouts, scrambling to pick the knife back up, but Chad is one step ahead of him.

He kicks the knife under the seats before stepping to the side so Tara can knee him in the face, knocking him out.

Yeah, get his ass, Sprout!

Quinn wails furiously and jumps to her feet, her rage obviously numbing the pain in her knee. She tightens the grip she has on her knife and lunges at Sam who raises her arms defensively.

“Oh no you don’t!” I growl, darting forward and catching her wrist mid-strike. I twist it so the knife is now pointing at her and watch in horror as she runs straight into it, stabbing herself in the throat because she can’t stop her advance in time.

Her eyes widen, and she chokes on her own blood for a moment before Sam kicks her in the stomach, forcing her to let go of the knife and fall backward.

She twitches helplessly, coughing and clawing at her own throat for what feels like hours before finally going deathly still.

“Good fucking riddance,” I spit and Sam nods, seemingly in a daze with her eyes trained on Quinn’s dead body until I grab her hand and pull her away. “Let’s go!”

Tara and Chad have already left and I can only hope that they made it to the roof okay. Where Kirby and Bailey are, I have no idea, but the theater’s been deathly quiet since that gunshots I heard earlier.

Please let that have been Kirby shooting Bailey and nod the other way around.

“We need to call for back—“ My words get stuck in my throat when Sam lets out a surprised cry behind me. Her hand lets go of mine and I hear her knife clatter against the ground before I whirl around to see that she’s tripped over something.

No, not something, someone. And that someone is Ethan who’s got his hand wrapped around her ankle.

“Son of a bitch!” Sam seethes and kicks him in the shoulder, which makes him let go of her, but when they both jump to their feet, my heart drops at the sight of him holding the knife she just dropped.

“You’re not going anywhere!” He slashes the knife through the air, missing Sam’s throat by an inch which makes me see red.

I yank Sam behind me, ignoring the way my back stings because of it, and tackle him.

He grunts when we go down and I feel him dragging the knife across my side, but all I can focus on is the sound of Sam’s voice, crying out my name, and the sensation of falling.

Falling, and falling, and falling.

“Y/N!”

I look up and it’s only when I see Sam bent over the railing of the balcony with a bewildered look in her eyes and an outstretched arm that I realize Ethan and I went overt the edge.

No. This was not supposed to happen.

I want to reach out and grab her hand, but it’s too late. I’m falling and before I know it, everything goes black.

I can’t have been out for too long, because when I come to again, everything is quiet.

There’s no shouting, there’s no police and I’m still in the theater, staring up at the blurry outline of the balcony and the dark ceiling.

Sam is nowhere in sight, but when I turn my head I see Ethan right next to me, sprawled on the ground amidst the glass shards of the display case he fell on.

Black dots are dancing in my vision, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I pass out again, but I know for a fact that he’s dead.

His neck is bent at an unnatural angle and his lifeless eyes are staring at me. His lips and chin are covered in blood from when Tara broke his nose with her knee and there are tiny glass shards sticking out of his cheek and forehead.

That’s two for two, I guess. . .

I avert my eyes and go to sit up to find Sam and the others, only to feel my heart drop when I find that I can’t move.

No. Not again.

I try again, willing every muscle in my body to help me sit up, but it doesn’t work.

All I can do is turn my head, and even that is difficult now that I think about it.

It’s like trying to run in a dream, and before I can stop it, a desperate whimper slips past my lips.

Not again. Please, not again.

The memory of Leroy’s face— the firefighter who pulled me out of my parents car after the accident— makes its way to the front of my mind and when I close my eyes I see his sparkling blue eyes above me.

No, not again. Not again. . .

“Y/N!”

My eyes fly open and I look up. Leroy’s blue eyes swim in and out of focus before they’re replaced by dark brown ones.

Sam.

She’s kneeling over me and has her hands on the side of my head.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. What did you do?!,” she whispers frantically, her eyes darting between mine.

I go to say something, but she shushes me by pressing a finger against my lips. “Don’t answer that. Save your strength. Just stay awake, okay, keep looking at me.”

I don’t know why’s she’s telling me to stay awake, but then I feel the almost irresistible pull of sleep tugging on my insides.

My eyes flutter, but I can’t in good conscience rest until I know it’s over— until I know that everyone’s okay.

“T-Tara. . . Chad,” I whisper, my eyes momentarily focusing on the pendant of Sam’s necklace. It twinkles in the low light and fills me with an indescribable warmth, knowing that she hasn’t taken the necklace off since I’ve given it to her. It also somehow chases away the panic that threatened to wash over me just a moment ago when I realized I couldn’t move.

“They’re okay,” Sam says, her voice breaking which makes me look at her again. Her eyes are filled with tears and her bottom lip is quivering the same way it did when I collapsed at the hospital a year ago. “They’re both okay. Kirby’s okay, too.”

I exhale shakily and blink back my own tears. “So, it’s over?”

Sam nods, running her thumbs over my cheek. “It is and help is on the way, so try to stay awake, okay? I know you’re tired, and you’re in a lot of pain because you took quite a fall, but you have to stay awake.“

“Quite a fall” feels like an understatement, but I don’t comment on it. I just shake my head and sigh quietly.

“‘M not in pain,” I slur, feeling my consciousness slipping away again.

It’s true, I’m not in pain. I just can’t move, but that’s okay because I know everyone else is okay. They’re all going to be okay, including Gale and Liam.

“What do you mean you’re not in pain? You just fell ten feet! How can you not be in pain?” Sam grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. I can’t feel it, but I see her doing it. I also see her furrowing her eyebrows when my hand stays limp before realization dawns on her.

“Y/N. . .” Tears roll down her face and I want nothing more but to reach up and wipe them away, but I can’t. “You’re— You’re—“

“‘S okay,” I whisper, trying my best to smile. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not, you’re not,” she hiccups and lets go of my hand again to cradle my head and the back of my neck just as my eyes begin to flutter. “Hey, keep your eyes open! You hear me, Y/N?! Keep your eyes open!”

But I’m so tired and she’s here. She’s finally here after everything that’s happened.

“Sam?”

Tara’s voice makes Sam look up and I take that as my chance to close my eyes.

Just for a little bit, I tell myself, but as soon as my eyes close, darkness washes over me.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

They’re all okay.

She’s here.

_______________________________________________

Before you come for me I just want to say that—spoiler alert—we’re going to be okay!

This part was a pain to write, but it’s done and I can rest now.

Only one more part to go!

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[lucycore]

Let me make it up to u - Fred weasley

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊ ˚ ☁️💌☁️ ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚₊

Kinda enjoying to write fluff one shots these days..weird..

Summary: You catch Fred talking to Angelina in a place not visited often so it brings misunderstanding with it.

☁️ Fluff one shot ☁️

˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.💌༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.💌༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.💌༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.💌⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.💌༘

Fred and you were dating for 10 months so almost a year. Since the Yule ball you became more in love with each other.

After class you were making your way up to the tower to enjoy the nice view and some peace. It was rare that people went up there but you needed that and it was your favorite spot to hang around even with Fred.

Finally up there you raised your head just to see Fred talking to Angelina. Your heart stopped. You almost couldn't believe that it's real life.

You stood there frozen for almost two minutes. They didn't notice you after you grabbed onto the railing of the stairs, feeling like you gonna pass out in a second.

They gave you a shocked look. You were good at holding your tears back while giving Fred an look of absolute desperation and devastation.

"Y/n.." Fred whispered before you turned around, running down the stairs with tears escaping your eyes.

He immediately left Angelina to run after you.

'Y/n wait!' He called after you but you ignored him. You just wanted to be alone, not wanting to see him.

'It's not what you think it is!' He continued trying.

You ran out of the castle getting few looks even from Harry and his friends.

'Oh no..That smells like trouble..' Hermione said to the round.

You hid behind a big stone and sinked to the ground, just crying while the wind was blowing through your hair.

Fred was quick enough to see where you hid and went to you without hesitation kneeling in front of you.

'Y/n please let me explain..' He placed his hand on yours which was wrapped around your knees.

You pushed his hand away and looked at him with red, tears filled eyes.

'There's nothing to explain, Fred..I saw you with her alone away from others..' You stood up ready to leave but Fred grabbed your arm, moving his hands to your shoulders.

'We were just talking...About you actually.." He said calmly looking into your eyes. He clearly felt guilty, continuing: 'I thought talking face to face in a place filled with people would bring false suspicion..Clearly I was wrong and I'm so sorry if it seemed like I betrayed you..You know I would never, my love..' He placed his two fingers under your chin, stroking your cheek with his thumb, moving your chin up to let you see his soft smile.

'I wish I could trust you but..' a tear ran down your cheek.

His smile disappeared immediately and turned to a worried look.

'But I don't know if I can trust you..It seemed-' Fred cut you off. 'I know it looked like I was betraying you but I swear that's not the case..'

He took a few steps closer to you.

'What were you discussing about me then and what would she know? We aren't even friends..'

You looked up at him, still resisting his touch so he gave you some space and put his hands into his pockets.

'Well..You know I never had a girlfriend nor were interested in any girl but I still wanted to spend a nice day with you..take you on a date so..' He struggled a little, feeling slightly embarrassed about it but then looked back at you.

'So I asked her what girls like to do on a date and she gave me some ideas..We decided on one..Well I won't tell you cuz I want it to be a surprise but you should know that I'd never betray you..I can consider myself the luckiest guy on this planet..I wouldn't ruin it like that.'

Fred carefully took your hand and gave it a kiss like a gentleman.

You finally stopped crying but Fred reached up to wipe your from tears wet cheeks.

'I'm really sorry, baby..Can you please forgive me?' He asked.

You nodded. 'Yes I can..'

He gave you a smile and pulled you into a kiss. The both of you closed your eyes, enjoying your lips on another.

You had your hands placed on his chest while he had his on your waist. After kissing he pulled you into a hug.

'Let me make it up to you..Let's go on a date tomorrow by sunset.' He suggested.

'Sure let's do this.' You smiled while looking up at him. All happy and giggly again.

'Love to see you smiling again.' He smiled and the two of you returned to the castle.

The next day in the evening, Fred lead you hand in hand to the place next to a big tree, where the two of you could have some privacy.

You didn't know what he had planned until you saw everything prepared.

The date idea from Angelina was a picnic. One of the most romantic date ideas. You loved it. You couldn't stop smiling while holding onto his hand.

Next to the food on the blanket laid a bouquet of your favorite flowers. It was absolutely beautiful and you immediately threw yourself around his neck hugging him. He loved seeing you this happy and it was a great apology for what happened yesterday.

[princessxt]

hiii, i loved your hotch fic so much, could you maybe write a spencer reid x daughter one where he and the team interview y/n as a potential unsub and then reid finds out she's his daughter that he didn't know about, or any plot you want to write :) i hope you have an amazing day <3

You can make a request in the comments or by asking me a question!

You can see the list of who I write about here

like and follow to encourage me to keep posting<33

She Looks Like You

Pairing(s):Spencer Reid x Daugther Reader

Gender:Fluffy

Warning: none?

——————♥︎♥︎——————

Spencer never imagined himself in a family, with a wife, children, a dog and a house with a white picket fence. Contact with girls his age was embarrassing, as he generally couldn't stop talking about subjects that bored the girls. He had only two relationships in his life, and in both of them, the ending was devastating for Spencer. The first was in his last year at college. He met a lovely girl, dated her for a few months, but she disappeared from college. without telling Spencer. For a while he thought the worst could have happened to her, but when he contacted her family, they just told him she was fine and for the boy to leave her alone. And in his second relationship , well, we all know what happened to Mavie.those were the losses of Spencer's life.

He could get over it, after all, he didn't think he would have a family anyway.

He knew that his work took a lot of time, and that could strain a marriage, in addition to how dangerous it would be, considering what happened to Hotch's wife. He may have been shaken by his last relationship, but he didn't let it destroy him. , and now you're here, trying harder than ever to continue saving lives.

The case the team was on was not a case of a serial killer. A couple had been murdered, and the only evidence the local police had was a strand of hair, from the killer, which according to the tests was a woman.

It didn't take long for the team to put together a profile, which led to a young girl.

They didn't have the motivation, but they had in mind that during an interrogation she could say something that would be useful for the case. When the young woman was already in the interrogation room, the agents entered.

"Are you Y/N Y/L/N?" Hotch asks, sitting in front of the young woman, making the young woman look at him with contempt. Spencer was behind Hotch, just watching her, finding her face familiar.

"Unfortunately"She throws her body back and leans against the chair, bored.

"Do you know why you're here?" The older man looks at the files in front of her, waiting for the right moment to show them to the girl.

"It looks like I'm suspected of something." She looks at Hotch, staring at him.

"Do you recognize this couple?" He shows the photos of the crime scene, with the dead couple in one of the photos. Her reaction was not what the agents expected. In the profile, they said that when the killer saw the photos of the crime scene , she wouldn't have a negative reaction, and would just stare at the photos, without a sign of remorse, but Y/n, the moment she saw the photos, turned her face away, feeling her stomach turn and her lunch return to her throat. Place your hand over the photos and close the file.

"Look, am I going to get arrested?" She looks at Hotch, angry that he showed her those horrible photos.

"You can leave at any time. But first, we need a DNA sample." Hotch takes the folders off the table and places them on her lap.

"DNA? Don't you need a warrant for that?" She gets up and grabs the coat that was on the chair.

"Not if you let us collect it willingly and make everything easier." Hotch follows her with his eyes, watching her go to the door.

"Bad luck for you, I'm not the type to make things easy." He opens the door and leaves, without looking back, leaving Hotch and Reid alone in the room.

"Do you think she has something to do with murder?" Spencer finally speaks.

"Her reaction wasn't what we imagined. We need a mandate, we'll only know for sure when the results come out." Hotch gets up from his chair and leaves the room, going to provide the mandate.

A few hours later they were already at the door of Y/n's house, with the warrant in hand, ready to collect the DNA.

They knock on the door and the girl answers, looking disappointed by the agents at her door.

"Let me guess, they came to get my DNA?" The agents agree and she gives them space to enter.

"Mom, those agents are here!" She shouts towards the second floor of the house.

The agents deliver the warrant to the girl. A few minutes later, a woman, approaching 35 years old, appears. Spencer could recognize her from miles away. It was Melissa, her first love. The one who disappeared without telling him anything.

"Do you really think my daughter killed that couple? This has to be a joke." She sits next to her daughter and takes the warrant from her hand, reading it in a few seconds.

"I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid." Hotch follows the manual, and introduces himself to the girl. When she hears Reid's name, her body tenses, and being a profiler, Spencer notices it. .

"A saliva sample and a strand of hair. Get it over with." The girl gets up and comes face to face with Hotch, who takes all the materials needed to do the collection. He takes the saliva sample and the hair, leaving the house then.

They take the sample to the laboratory. The next day, the result went directly to Garcia.

"Guys, I have some bad news, the DNA is not compatible. I'm sorry" Garcia says on the other end of the phone, the team sighs in disappointment, knowing that whoever killed the couple was still out there.

"Wait, here in the files it says that she is compatible with an agent." Garcia says and everyone looks at each other.

"What do you mean compatible with an agent? Is there any document saying she's adopted?" JJ says and gets closer to the phone.

"It doesn't say anything, I'll try to get into the file, just a minute." She stays silent and everyone in the room can hear the keyboard making noise. A minute later, Garcia sees the last thing she could imagine on her screen. one "Oh no" and the whole team is confused.

"Garcia, what did you think?"Emily asks, crossing her arms.

"I'll send it to you" is the only thing she responds. After that, the agents received a file over the phone, and what was written left everyone in shock.

"Spencer, is she... is she your... daughter?" Derek asks, staring blankly at the document. Spencer didn't know what to say or how to react. This had crossed his mind when he found out that Y/n's mother was Melissa, but he believed that if she was pregnant she would have told him.

"Reid, is that possible?" Hotch looks at him, who was motionless.

"I dated her mother during college, maybe it is." He didn't know if he wanted that to be true or a lie. He started thinking about everything, and remembered the date of birth he saw in Y/n's file. a few months after Melissa disappeared. He no longer had any doubts.

"Thanks Garcia, if you find out anything else let us know"JJ hangs up.

"So, she's no longer a suspect." Emily tries to change the atmosphere in the room, drawing everyone's attention to the case.

"Spencer, can I talk to you?" Hotch calls him and they leave the room.

"This is something very important, Spencer. Go figure it out, take the rest of the day off and talk to Melissa and Y/n, you have a lot to discuss" Spencer agrees. He grabs his things and goes to Melissa's house, knocking on the door.

She opens the door and says "I was waiting for you. I knew that after Y/n's exams came out you would come here. You can come in." She gives Spencer space to enter.

"You knew, and you didn't tell me anything."Spencer stops in front of her, in disbelief at everything that was happening.

"Would you like something to drink? Water, juice, beer." She goes to the kitchen followed by Spencer.

"You can sit"She points to some benches on the kitchen counter. She goes to the fridge and takes out 2 beers.

"I don't drink." Spencer says dryly.

"Then some water"She takes a bottle of water.

"Where is Y/n?" he takes a sip of water, calming down.

"He's at a friend's house, he won't be back until night, we have all the time in the world to catch up." She mocks the last part.

"Does she know? That I'm her father?" He says.

"She don't even suspect it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He looks at her, remembering the past, the time when they were together.

"You were about to graduate and join the FBI, I knew that when that happened, she and I would be in the crosshairs of anyone who wanted revenge on you. I did it to protect my daughter."

"I would quit the FBI without thinking twice. I would graduate and look for a good job so I could take care of her. You should have told me, given me the chance to see my daughter grow up" At that moment, Spencer's eyes were about to look fills with tears, thinking about all the memories he missed in his daughter's life.

The silence in the kitchen was embarrassing. Neither of them knew what to say.

"I want to be part of her life from now on." Spencer breaks the silence.

"I don't know if she'll want to. Last night she spent the night talking about how idiots you and your colleague were." She laughs.

"I want to at least try, help me get her to support me." He looks at her, who avoids looking into her eyes.

"I can talk to her tonight, explain everything, and if she wants to see you, I'll call you." She says and finally looks the doctor in the eye.

"What is she like? Is she smart, kind?" He asks wanting to know more about her.

"She looks like you. She's smart, kind to people she likes, but she has my personality." She smiles remembering her daughter.

The rest of the afternoon was peaceful, they talked a little more about her the girl. When Spencer returns to the hotel, he waits for a response from Melissa, to find out whether or not Y/n wants to have contact with him. It doesn't take long until he receives a message from Melissa.

*Tomorrow, at 4 pm at the cafe in the center, she will meet you there*

He smiles reading the message, but feels nervous about having contact with the girl, now that he knows she is his daughter.

The other day, Spencer couldn't stop thinking about her date with Y/n, he thought about bringing something to please her, but he didn't know what she liked.

When it was time, Spencer went to the cafe, sitting at a table and waiting for Y/n. She arrived some time later, going directly to the table. Both, not knowing how to greet each other, just exchanged a "Hi".

"So, did your mother explain everything?" Spencer tries to calm the atmosphere. The girl only responds with a "Yes."

Spencer and Y/n knew that creating a father-daughter relationship would be a challenge, but they both liked being challenged.

——————♥︎♥︎——————

Hii, if you have a better idea for a title, you can tell me in the comments!

[shieldofiron]

For @intothedysphoria HAPPY birthday!!! Have a flight attendant Steve! Featuring Pepper!!

Steve had a problem.

He was just coming off of a three day turn, San Diego to Mexico City, then to Raleigh, back to San Diego. And he was still getting used to San Diego as home, blinking into the sunlight when he stepped out of the airport, a coffee clutched in his hands.

But that came with the job. No one wanted a flight attendant to be based out of Hawkins, Indiana. And he’d even been lucky enough to get hooked up with a crash pad to start him out.

Crash pads were apartments shared by other flight attendants and occasionally pilots when they first moved to a new city. Steve was still getting used to the new schedule, the last thing he thought he could deal with was signing a full on lease and figuring out pet sitting.

Because that was his problem. His six pound, love of his life problem. The problem that wasn’t coming to the door to greet him like she normally did. It made his heart ache, thinking that she now didn’t expect him to come home to her.

“Pepper?” He called.

Pepper chirped from the living room, poking her head around the corner into the hallway.

“Sorry. I was playing with her.”

And that was his other problem. Pilots were too handsome for their own good, and Billy was more handsome than many. In the uniform, he made Steve’s knees weak. But in sweats, holding a feather on a stick, Steve was about to collapse.

Steve looked down, blushing, and picked pepper up, nuzzling her little black nose. “Hey my sweet girl.”

Billy rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at Steve with those devastating blue eyes. “How was the trip?”

For a second it was almost like having a boyfriend. But Steve knew that wasn’t the case.

Oh they’d fucked. The first time in Chicago, like being on a trip made it less of a bad idea. And then a few more times. They didn’t like… talk. This was just temporary, like a crash pad if it was a relationship.

But lately…

Pepper chirped again when Steve set her down, happily trotting over to Billy and rubbing herself all over his legs.

“I can take your bags to your room.” Billy offered.

“No, I got it,” Steve muttered, following Pepper like he didn’t want to nuzzle Billy’s legs just the same. “Want a treat, Sweet Girl? Where are Chrissy and Heather?”

Billy shrugged a little. “Out on trips.”

Steve nodded, ignoring how Billy scooped Pepper off the counter with one hand, his muscles flexing nicely. Great. Now he was some kind of arm pervert.

It was part of what had made Billy so attractive as a roommate, the way he’d taken to helping out with her.

The only problem was now that they were fucking, it was starting to mess with Steve’s head. It was hard to fantasize about the mile high club (which he would never do because he knew how often the bathroooms were cleaned) when you kept getting interrupted by domestic fantasies of boyfriend cat naps with Pepper the Havana Brown.

Steve turned towards the little basket where he kept Pepper’s treats. And blinked.

“Did you replenish her treats?”

“Oh. Yeah. She was getting low.”

“You went out and bought her favorite treats? You can’t get them anywhere nearby?”

He turned and Billy was beet red. “Uh…”

“Do you want to go on a date? Tonight? With me?” Steve asked. “Romantically.”

Billy snorted. “I get the picture. Yes. Yes I do, Pretty Boy.”

Pepper trilled, hopping up on the counter and sitting by her treat container.

Steve shook his head. “Just us, Pep.”

“This time,” Billy said.

Steve could only smile at him. Problem solved.

[elkkiel]

A few thoughts on Caramel, in connection to Emergence and Euclid

Starting with Emergence:

Cramel gives more context to Emergence for me. Like obviously there's "Godspeed to my enemies who be asking for that call sign" in reference to intrusive fans, and "might bite right through your lenses" about behaviour online/during rituals (my interpretation). But, these lyrics in particular were really notable to me:

You know the behaviour, canines of the saviour

Relating back to my link between Caramel and the Room Below ritual: It's gotta feel horrible to go from the feeling of your fans saving you, to your fans becoming the cause of your pain. Your saviour has turned into a vicious beast, and it's a collective behavioural shift that you've come to know through personal experience.

Glory to the legion

Could go a couple different ways. It might be praise for his fans who stick together for the love of his music. Or, it could be a callout on the broader fandom's penchant for collective hate. Legion could possibly refer to the biblical Legion: a group of demons that act as one collective entity. Or, it could be interpreted in a military context—particularly Roman—which is a unit of soldiers. Given the challenging/lowkey spiteful(?) tone of the rest of the verse, it feels like he's saying "Wow look at you all! Good fucking job you guys /s smh"

Trauma for the neighbours

I wasn't super sure about this particular lyric, but it makes more sense to me now. Yeah, people outside our community but still adjacent to us (ex. other metal fans, casual listeners, etc.) get really fucking put off by our actions. There's a reason we get a reputation as a toxic fandom, because we are. People don't want to deal with us and get too close, or they're too scared to dip their toes in. We also force them to be neighbours and won't let them inside the house, due to how gatekeep-y some people can be.

Vessel himself is probably fucking terrified of us in some way, shape, or form. At least, if Caramel's lyrics are to be taken literally (which feels like it's the case, unfortunately).

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

As for the Euclid connection, this is what really gets me the most. This is more of a general vibe from the contrast between lyrics from Euclid and Caramel. I guess it also ties back in with the Room Below comparison "You saved me". But this time, it's "I must be someone new"

There's so much hope for healing and becoming a new person beyond the pain in Euclid. And for him to now say "I thought I got better, but maybe I didn't" is nothing short of devastating. As for Emergence, the gentleness of how he delivers "Come on out from underneath who you were/don't you know it's time to emerge" feels so fragile. Like he's trying to coax out that hope he discovered in Euclid out of hiding, or begging for his new person to come back. Sorta like trying to get my cat to come out from underneath the bed, if that makes sense? Except, in this case, I don't even know if my cat's there anymore and I'm scared of what that implies. Or if I'll ever be able to get her back.

I was only able to listen to Caramel once, and I can't bring myself to read the lyrics right now because I'm still emotionally very raw. So apologies if I'm remembering this wrong, but I'm pretty sure there was one line about a broken parallel (or something like that). And juxtaposed against "A parallel I would lay my life on" directed towards us. Idk. I just. can't right now.

There's a lot more I want to do analysis-wise, so please share your thoughts. Especially if you were able to listen to Caramel more than once (you are Sleep's strongest soldier if you managed that).

In conclusion: what have we done?? We've caused so much pain. And I don't know how we can/if we can make amends now.

[yourfriendlyfanperson]

A Chemical Reaction Called Love

Chapter 1: A missing case in a small town

~Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!reader

~Summary: Being the daughter of Hawkins Middle School Science teacher, Scott Clarke, has its perks. Constantly having to explain things to 'King' Steve Harrington wasn't necessarily one of them but it was something you had gotten used to. He might not be the brightest guy but at least he tried, and you appreciated that. You had big plans for the future, but they might be forced to change thanks to a phone call...

~Warnings: Sensitive topics might be brought up so reader discretion is advised.

~Word Count: 3.3K

~Authors Note: Hey everyone! This is my first time posting my fanfics in tumblr, I have them in ao3 or w-tpadd usually, but I've wanted to post them in tumblre for a long time. If someone knows how to do the fancy chapter thing where you add the numbers at the top please let me know! Any support is very much appreciated! This fanfic is still in the works! You can find me on Ao3 as Lilpipsqueak and W-tpadd as friendlyfanperson!

~Narrator's POV~

"And to that, you need to add?"

"Hydrochloric acid," Y/n says turning to look at her dad as she remembers the answer, both of them walking through the car park of Hawkins Middle School as Y/n revised for her chemistry test which was in a couple of minutes. She always did well in her exams, especially her science ones, given the fact her dad was a science teacher so he always helped her out, but she still liked to revise before each exam.

"Great, you're all set for the exam," He tells her with a smile.

"Thanks for helping me out dad," She says.

"Morning Mr. Clarke!" Dustin shouts as he walks up to them, Lucas behind him, "Morning Y/n"

"Good morning Dustin, Lucas, how are you boys doing today?" He asks them.

"We're okay," Lucas tells him.

"Where's Mike?" Y/n asks them, knowing the three, though usually four boys, always arrived at school together.

"He should be here soon," Dustin told her, "What are you studying?" He asks.

"Chemistry, I have an exam first period, I should probably get going," She tells them with a smile, "See you later kids, be careful, and I'll meet you at your classroom after school dad"

"Good luck with the exam, honey," Her dad says as she walks away.

"Bye Y/n!" The two boys add waving at her.

She takes out her headphones and puts them on as she starts listening to "Oh, Pretty Woman" by Roy Orbinson, walking to Hawkins High School and focusing on the lyrics. She looked back at the boys who were happily talking with her dad, and all she could think about was the 4th member of their party, Will Byers, who had gone missing yesterday. She knew him really well, after all, she was always helping Joyce by looking after him while she and Jonathan worked, he was like the little brother she never had. When she heard the news about Will's disappearance she was devastated, she couldn't imagine Will running away or getting himself in some kind of trouble, but she also couldn't imagine him getting kidnapped by anyone in Hawkins, sure you had your usual creeps like every other town, but none that would ever do such a thing. All she could do, for now, was help around with the investigation and stay alert for anything weird so he could hopefully be found soon.

"Jonathan!" Y/n shouts as she sees him walking to school in front of her, she pauses the song taking off her headphones and walks towards him.

"Y/n, hey," He says, looking more tired than usual.

"Have you heard anything?" She asked him, hoping for some good news.

"Nothing yet, I'm going to check and see if my dad has something to do with it though I doubt it, he never cared about us" Jonathan explains to her as they start walking towards the main doors.

"Well if you need anything at all, just let me and my dad know okay?"

"Okay, I'll make sure to let you know," He says.

Y/n smiles at him, she looks down and notices a paper in his hand.

"What's that?" She asks him.

"Oh, just a missing poster my mom and I made, I'm going to put it in the school news board so people can keep a lookout," He tells her handing her the poster.

She takes it looking down at it, 'Have you seen me?' is written in capital letters on the top of the page with two pictures of Will under it, the general information about him and the clothes he was wearing when he went missing.

"We'll find him, I'm sure of it, Will's smart, he'll be okay," She tells Jonathan handing the paper back to him, hoping that the words coming out of her mouth will come true.

"I hope so, I really hope so," He says as they walk into the school, "I'll see you later"

"Yeah, I'll see you around" She adds waving goodbye at him as he goes over to the news board.

Y/n puts her headphones back on as she starts walking down the corridor, she sees Nancy and Barbara standing with none other than Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, which she found extremely surprising, after all, Nancy and Barbara are not popular, at all, so it was strange to see them together, she had heard rumours though that Steve was going out with Nancy, so she guessed they must be true because there's no other reasonable option for them to be even near each other. Y/n gets along well with everyone really, she's nice to people and helps them out during lessons so luckily no one had ever really found a reason to bully her, which allowed Y/n to get through her so far 3 years of high school without a problem.

She talked with Nancy sometimes, they weren't necessarily friends but they were more than classmates, especially given the fact she knew the Wheelers quite well. Barbara and Y/n had interacted before but they didn't really talk, she got the feeling Barbara didn't like her very much, but she could never figure out why. She never really spoke to Tommy or Carol except when they needed help during class, but they didn't bother her so she didn't really care about them.

And then there was Steve Harrington, Y/n had known him since middle school, growing up in a small town means you pretty much grow up with everyone you go to high school with, in middle school they didn't really talk, Y/n had her friends and Steve had his, it wasn't really until the start of sophomore year when they started sitting next to each other in science that they started talking. Steve isn't the brighter student, but he has parents that have high expectations for him, so he needs to do good in school, lucky for him he sat next to Y/n. The first thing he said to her when she sat next to him on that first day of sophomore year was "Clarke you're smart, help me out here" and she did exactly that.

Did Y/n think Steve was a bad person? Not really, he had always been kind to her and he actually put effort during lessons when she helped him, so she appreciated that. Did she think the rumours about him were true? Yeah, Steve is famously known around the school not only for being the King of Hawkins high school, but also for making all the girls fall in love with him, and sleeping with them, and as far as Y/n knew that was true, most of the girls she knew had liked him at some point, most except her, and her best friend, Robin Buckley. Robin had an entirely different reason for not liking him than Y/n did though, Robin couldn't like Steve, Y/n on the other hand technically could, she just didn't see anything special about him, sure he's good looking, she accepts that, but he's a bit of an asshole to some people, he's way too popular and has a huge ego, and she didn't really like that.

"Oh, god, that's depressing" She heard Steve say as she walked past them, she knew they were talking about Jonathan, he was known around as a freak, but those weren't news to Y/n.

"Should we say something?" Nancy asked them.

"I don't think he speaks," Carol told her, chuckling.

"How much you wanna bet he killed him?" Tommy asked.

Y/n stopped walking, listening to what he said, she was a nice person, and she was calm, but like any decent human being, she had her limits.

She turned around to look at them as she opened her mouth ready to snap at Tommy, but before she could say anything, Steve pushed Tommy shaking his head.

"Shut up," He said, not much, the minimum actually, but his tone did show that even he knew Tommy had gone too far, she knew that in comparison to her telling Tommy something, he would at least listen to Steve, and so she decided to keep on walking away as she put her music back on.

Sometimes Y/n asked herself how things would be if Steve didn't hang out with assholes like Tommy and Carol, she believed, from what she knew and saw, that in comparison to them Steve was actually a good person, which she supposes isn't something necessarily hard to be, but from what she had learned about Steve from sitting next to him in the last year and a half, she could tell he was actually a kind person with a good heart when he was away from them, and she guessed he had probably ended up being the way he was because of the friends he has.

"Earth to Y/n!" She snapped out of her thoughts as she looked up, seeing none other than Robin in front of her, "Morning weirdo"

"Morning freak, how are you doing?" She asked Robin, pausing her music and taking off her headphones, stopping at her locker and opening it.

"I am actually doing pretty decent today, which is unusual given the fact I have a stupid math exam first period, and I also have to seat next to Jim, but I guess I shouldn't complain about being in a good mood" She explains to Y/n, rambling, as usual, thought Y/n didn't mind, she actually enjoys listening to Robin over share.

"Well, regardless of the math exam and having to seat next to Jim I'm glad you're having a good morning," Y/n tells her smiling as she takes out her books and puts them in her locker.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm alright, just worried about the chemistry exam and Will," She tells her closing her locker and turning around to fully look at Robin.

"I hope they find him soon," She tells her, worried, even though Robin had never spoken to Will she knew he was Y/n's friend, and she also knew no kid deserves to go through the trauma of going missing.

The school bell starts ringing, Y/n and Robin look at each other with worry.

"Time for the stupid exam," Robin says as they start walking to their classrooms.

"We've got this, it's just common sense," Y/n tells her trying to make sure she doesn't get too stressed.

"Right, just common sense" Robin repeats, not believing a thing, "I'll see you at recess, good luck, love you"

"Love you too, good luck" Y/n tells her as she walks away and into her chemistry room.

She walks inside the classroom and takes a seat at her table, putting her bag on the floor as she takes out her chemistry book, she knows Mr. Thompson gives them some time to do some last minutes studying, so she can at least look over things one last time.

"You could've phrased it differently," She says turning to look at Steve walking over to his desk.

"What?" He asks looking at her confused.

"What you said about Jonathan, well, more like the way you said it, about him putting up a poster being depressive, it actually is, his brother is missing and his family have already been having a hard time, it's not really something to joke about" She explains to him.

"Oh, right, well I'm sorry," He says, and to Y/n's surprise she can actually tell he means it and is being serious, "Today's the exam right?" Steve asks as he takes a seat next to her.

"Yeah, did you study?" She asks him.

"You'll be proud to hear I actually did, so I think I'm going to do pretty well today," He says smirking at her, taking out his notebook.

"Well I am proud, I can't believe you actually studied"

"Neither can I, it was only for like an hour though so don't be too proud," He tells her chuckling.

"Right of course, that I am not surprised about" She adds smiling at him.

The class ended up having 5 minutes to study, which were all taken by Steve asking Y/n a bunch of questions regarding his notes and the things he hadn't understood, but at least she was able to explain things to him before the time ran out.

The exam lasted an hour, for Y/n it was an hour of her just answering the questions, which were surprisingly easy, but for Steve, it was an hour of either trying to remember what he just read or looking over at Y/n with puppy eyes trying to get her to help him up, and she did, for like two questions, the hardest ones in the test, because she knew that giving him most of the answers would help no one, not even him.

Once the time was up Y/n and Steve, along with the rest of the class, stood up and left the paper on Mr. Thompson's desk.

"How do you think you did?" Steve asks Y/n as they walked back to their desks and grabbed their bags.

"I think I did pretty good, how about you?"

"I actually think I did decent, but we'll have to see," He tells her as they walk out of the classroom.

"I guess we will," She tells him.

"Thanks again for helping me out with the two questions, I really didn't understand them"

"It's alright, they were a bit hard and took away a lot of points, I'll see you next lesson Harrington," She tells him, as she starts turning around to go to her next class.

"Yep, see you later, Einstein"

Einstein, Steve's famous nickname for Y/n, he came up with it after she started helping him in science, he called her Einstein for two reasons; The first one being the fact that in his eyes she was extremely smart, like genius smart, she didn't personally think she was that good at science, but she knew she was better than average, or at least better than Steve; And the second reason was that Albert Einstein was the only scientist Steve actually knew something about, because if he really wanted to give her a nickname that actually made sense, he would've called her Marie Curie, given the fact Y/n was better at chemistry than physics.

The rest of the day went by smoothly, just like most. Y/n had her lessons, then her breaks, and talked with Robin, it was a simple day, which was all she could really ask for.

"And I mean he doesn't even like her, I don't understand what she can see in him" Robin complained as they walk out of the school.

"I mean most girls probably like him based on looks purely, I bet most haven't even had a proper conversation with him, and come on Robin you can do better than wannabe Madonna anyway," She tells her.

Wanna be Madonna is their nickname for Tammy Thompson, they couldn't just go around the school talking about the girl Robin liked without a worry in the world, someone could hear and that would just be chaos.

"I guess, I mean she's just so pretty, and don't know what but there's just something about her that I find hypnotic almost" Robin explains as they walk to the bus.

"I mean she's pretty, but let's be honest how likely is it for her to be anything else but straight?" She asked Robin, whispering the last part.

"Not likely, like at all, god I'm going to be single forever," She said moving her hands to cover her face in defeat.

"No you won't, Robin I guarantee you that one of these days you're going to meet the girl of your dreams and we'll look back at this moment and laugh about your crush on her, trust me," Y/n says moving her hand to Robin's shoulder.

"I hope so, but we'll see, I'll see you tomorrow, take care weirdo," Robin says as she gets on the bus.

"Goodbye freak" Y/n shouts at her walking away to the middle school.

She sees Dustin and Lucas rushing out of the school towards their bikes, in a panic.

"Hey! What's the rush?" She asks them.

"I-umm, nothing, it's nothing, don't worry" Dustin shouts as they get their bikes and pedal away.

"Well that was weird" She mumbles walking inside the school.

She made her way through the corridor and knocked on her dad's classroom as she walked in.

"Hey dad," She says smiling.

"Hey honey, how did your test go?" He asks her, organising some papers on his desk.

"I think it went well, we get the results next lesson"

"Well, I'm sure you did wonderfully," He tells her.

"Hopefully, how were the boys feeling today?" She asks, taking a pile of the papers.

"Well Mike didn't come to school, his mom called to say he wasn't feeling well, he seems really worried about Will" He explains to her as he gets his bag, grabs the other pile of papers, and starts walking out of the room.

"I can't even imagine how worried they must be, I really hope they find him, have they heard anything?"

"Well apparently Earl saw Will, so I'm going around with some others to help look for him," He tells her, locking the door behind him.

"Can I go? I want to help, I don't want to sit at home doing nothing"

He looked at her unsure, ever since Will's disappearance he had been worried sick about some lunatic going around Hawkins, he was worried about something happening to Y/n, but he also knew it was better to let her do things before she found a way to do them herself.

"Sure, but you'll be with me the whole time, okay?"

"You got it chief" She smiled.

~~~~

"So, what exactly do we need to look for? Apart from a small boy, of course," Y/n asks her dad as they walk through the woods.

The evening was a cold one, but it was early November so it was to be expected, the woods were covered in darkness, the only thing giving them light being the flashbacks they had. There were at least fifty people around looking for Will, so hopefully, they could find something.

"Well, we need to look out for anything that might give us a clue to someone being around here, maybe blood, some clothes, an object of his" He explains looking around the ground for anything.

Y/n nods looking around as well but stops when she sees a small hole, she wasn't sure if it was part of the sewers or if it led somewhere else, so she kneeled down in front of it as she looked inside, the space was small but big enough for a small kid to go through it.

"Will!" She shouts, she waits for a response, but there's none, and then she sees it, a ripped-out piece of clothing.

"Dad! Dad! I found something!" She says, Scott immediately turns to her kneeling down.

"What is it?" He asks.

"Look, it's like someone came out from here and ripped a piece of their shirt, don't you think?" She questions.

"Maybe," He says, he takes his whistle and alerts the Chief of police Hopper that they found something.

"Hey, what do you got?" Hopper asks as he runs up to them.

"Not sure," Scott tells him.

"I found this, in there," Y/n tells him, handing him the ripped piece of shirt.

"No way a kid can crawl through there" Officer Powell says, looking inside.

"I don't know, a scared enough one might, his brother said he was good at hiding," Hopper told him.

"And he's small, I could see him fitting through there" Y/n adds, "Do you think it could be Will's?"

"I don't know kid, we'll have to see," Hopper says standing up and walking away.

Thank you for reading!

[purplekissinger]

Of arrows and targets

Tom and Y/N have something in common: they are both crazy about the Dark Arts. They create the first Horcrux together. Instead of settling in a diary, a fragment of Tom's soul lodges itself in Y/N.

Tom and Y/N create their first modified spell in their third year. Based on the Warding and Summoning Charms, it has, in fact, a very complex design. It could become a non-trivial task even for a skillful wizard. The daring idea belongs to Y/N, for she wanted to invent a charm that would distract the enemies during a fight. She also has the honor of testing it on herself. Tom feels vaguely uneasy about this.

One early Sunday morning, Y/N and Tom sneak out to the clearing just behind the Quidditch pitch, which the older students sometimes use as a dueling ground. It is the end of April, a windy and sunny day. Y/N laughs and jokes all the whole way there as Tom looks around anxiously and asks her to be quieter to no avail.

Her robe was unbuckled, with a red and yellow scarf sticking out from underneath. Tom looks at the scarf, at Y/N's beaming smile, and his stomach sinks.

***

"I am the disgrace of the Gryffindor House," you said in a devastated tone.

That late evening, you had been sitting on the floor by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room for about an hour. Tom, who had been diligently pretending to read notes from the classes he had missed, casted a disapproving glance at you, then turned and looked at you for real. Intently. The reflections of the flame illuminated his face.

"What do you mean, may I ask?" he asked. "In my opinion, you are the only one of the entire house who somehow justifies its existence."

"You are giving me a pass for my past achievements," you said. Then you paused and added: "And so do I."

"An example?" Tom raised an eyebrow. He still looked exhausted, although he was probably feeling better now. At least he seemed pretty much okay for a person who was lying flat out in the Hospital Wing the day before. You could tell. You spent the night by his bed, after all.

“If I were a real Gryffindor with a spine of one, I would have told Dippet on you,” you muttered.

But you didn’t. Yes, you yelled at Tom, you challenged him to a duel (which you lost), burst into tears and said you didn’t want to know him anymore, begged him to go to the Headmaster and tell the truth, begged him to Obliviate you. You didn’t talk to Tom for six months, raised the entire Gryffindor House from first to last year to rebel and fought more desperately than anyone for Hagrid and defended him. And still you didn’t tell Dippet on Tom.

He covered his eyes with his hand. Such a tired, human gesture.

“I think”, he finally said, ”I think that's your most Gryffindor trait. You don't seem to betray your friends”.

“Who told you I was your friend?”

“You did”,  his smile was faint.

“You passed out!” you suddenly gasped and turned as red as your tie (good thing it wasn't visible in the dark). “You weren't even thinking straight, you couldn't hear me, you idiot - what else did I say?!”

Little by little the storm died down. Hagrid stayed at school, the picture of Myrtle laughing took its place on the wall in the Great Hall. You, however, could not forget. For several months you pretended not to see Tom, but you thought of him every second. For six months he didn't give you any reason to belive that he wanted to reconnect, greeting you as politely and indifferently as anyone else when you ran into each other in the hallway (you didn't bother to answer). If anything, he seemed to have easily gotten over losing you. It was physically painful to think about it.

When the pain dulled a little, Tom suddenly sent you a simple note: "Tonight. Astronomy Tower. 8 p.m. Tell no one." You arrived there fuming, only intending to spit in his face, only to find Tom as calm as ever. He told you that he was going to conduct another experiment, the riskiest yet. You could help him - or not, but in the second case, he wanted to apologize to you once again, for he was not sure if he would survive.

"You said that I am your best friend," Tom chuckled. "And that I should not dare to die. And that you love me”.

You jumped upright. Then sat back down. You swung your arm, as if you wanted to slap him, but then quickly turned away.

"I missed you, Y/N," you heard through the noise in your ears. How, oh how could he say such things so dryly?! "I really did. These have officially been the worst six months of my life. The most boring, useless, unbearable six months without you. Stop covering your ears, I'm not going torepeat myself. Wait, are you crying?”

"Go to hell," you whispered with hatred in your voice. Your voice was shaking with tears.

That night you had a dream.

Nothing terrible was happening in that dream, and yet it was the scariest you ever had. You were wandering through the empty dark corridors of some building, looking desperately for someone, not being able to find them. The floor was laid with gray tiles, the ceiling was low, sometimes a dusty window revealed a washed-out gray void, and there were doors, doors, doors again... Hundreds and hundreds of them. It was getting more and more stuffy, you were already running through the endless labyrinth, yanking the doors towards you, knocking on them, stumbling and falling. You remembered a cramped room behind one of them. Two steps wide, a very high ceiling, a window into a brick wall.

"So it was a success? Or a failure? Your experiment?" you asked gloomily the next day. Your head was splitting from a heavy sleep.

Rain pattered outside. The broom classes were canceled. You and Tom were sitting in the corner of the library, like you had done before, not knowing how to overcome the icy barrier that had grown between you over the past six months. Tom was leafing through the little black book you had already seen once.

“I don’t know,” he said irritably. He exhaled heavily and put the book down. “Not yet, maybe”.

“What was that supposed to do anyway?”

Tom glanced sideways at you. There was something new and unpleasant in that look. Something sharp.

“What do you think it was supposed to do?”

You bit your lip.

The truth was, that one experiment was unlike anything else. The memories of that evening were strangely clear, but somehow devoid of any meaning and so unnatural that they seemed unreal. Each action of the ritual was not individually vile, nor scary, nor dangerous, but altogether they formed some monstrous algorithm, the monstrosity of which eluded description. It was simply impossible to describe. There are things that make you scream, not speak.

“You never really explained it to me,” you finally said. “Well, I held this thing, the book, above you. When you told me to close my eyes, I did so. I couldn’t see anything else.”

You would have closed them either way. You wouldn’t have been able to look any further.

“The book,” Tom repeated. “Exactly. The book. Not a book, though, the diary.”

“Big deal,” you winced, “Then I realized that I couldn’t hear anything. I opened my eyes, saw… Saw you, and then there was the Hospital Wing”.

Memory flash: you drag Tom's limp body across the night field to the lights of the castle in the distance with your last strength. Your hands are numb, your throat is burning, your heart is jumping out of your chest. The lights seem unreachable, and then everything blurs into golden spots when you finally start to sob.

You left the library together - no hand-holding, no exchanged glances, but together nonetheless. It seemed to you that Tom was smiling with the side of his mouth that you did not see.

The next night the dream continued when you burst, exhausted, into a closet with a brick window and saw a boy on a rust-streaked iron bed. The boy looked at you with an inky, burning gaze and said in a raspy voice:

‘Tell that loser that he fucked up his experiment’.

Then he got up from the bed and became three times taller than you. The room was as dark as night, but you saw his face too well. You woke up with a sinking heart and for a long time couldn't figure out where you were. It was four in the morning, the window was just starting to turn gray, yet you didn't dare go back to sleep and trudged to the bathroom instead.

"You look tired," Tom said calmly at breakfast. You couldn't remember letting him sit next to you again. Apparently he decided to take advantage of the lack of a direct ban.

"And you look like a person who lost five gallons of blood three days ago," you snapped. An annoying pain throbbed in your temple.

"A human usually has no more than one gallon of blood," Tom said. Without looking at you, he asked: "Y/N, what happened?"

If you knew him a little less, you would think that there was nothing hidden behind this indifferent tone.

”Answers for answers. I'll tell you if you tell me what this ritual was first”.

“This is not a fair trade”.

“I saved your life, remember?!”

“I will never forget this, thank you very much”.

“Write that down just in case, then. In this little book of yours, maybe. Why do you carry it around everywhere, anyway?”.

What began as a sweet conversation dissolved in angry whispering, swallowed by the Great Hall’s ever-present roar. The Gryffindors and Slytherins stared at you two with immodest curiosity: had Riddle and L/N finally made peace? Tom, not at all embarrassed, silently pushed a plate of pancakes towards you, as if you forgot why you came here, and then he sat next to you in Potions, as if that was how it should be. He was reclaiming the lost ground as quickly as possible, until you came to your senses.

On the third night, you went to bed, carefully placing your head on the pillow, as if it were the mouth of a lion (or a huge snake?). No precautions helped, and all night you ran away from the boy with the inky gaze, who chased you along the dark tiled corridors, sometimes climbing onto the ceiling.

‘You both failed me’, the boy said in a colorless, dry voice, ‘but you are already mine, and I will get him too. Come here, Y/N, don't be scared. You can't run away, you can't run away, you can't run away’.

During the break the next day, you tracked Tom down and literally shoved him into the broom closet by force. Even in the darkness, you could see the malicious smugness glowing in his eyes. He didn't even bother to wipe the victorious grin.

“Is this your idea of passion?” he asked.

“What, in Mordred, did you call into this world with this ritual?” you hissed.

Literally hissed.

The smile slowly faded from his face, and now Tom simply looked at you as if he had never seen you before. For a long minute, you stared at each other in silence, while the sophomores, who had started a fight, were making noise in the hallway outside the door. There was an explosion, and someone screamed in triumph.

 Tom was the first to control himself.

“Do you understand me?” he asked quietly. You had heard him speak this language to snakes before,  once was that evening when he showed you how to open the passage to the Chamber of Secrets. Now, every sound took on meaning and significance, as if a noisy radio broadcast suddenly sounded crystal clear.

“I wish I didn't,” you said.

Then you told him about the nightmares. You were still speaking Parseltongue for the first half of the story, because you hadn't figured out how to switch back to human language. Turned out that Parseltongue was very easy to speak when you were angry.

"We've got a problem, Tom," you said. "Come on, spill it."

And he did. Right there in the closet, twenty minutes before Transfiguration, where you were supposed to have a test.

"Lumos," he said. His face was deathly pale in the wandlight. "See this diary?"

"I've been seeing it for three days now, you've been carrying this around all the time."

"I guess I can throw it away now. The experiment went wrong, there's nothing in it. It's empty."

"What was supposed to be in there?"

Tom covered his face with his hands and shook his head. You'd never seen him like that before. Even while bleeding out there in the clearing, he had kept a calm and reasonable expression on his face. In front of you stood a terrified boy who had broken something that couldn't be glued back together and he didn't even know how to ask for forgiveness.

"I don't know where to start," he said dully. "What do you know about how the soul works?"

"What does that have to do with it? Tom, what were you trying to do? Who is this spider boy, how does he know you, what the hell is going on?!"

"I cut off a piece of my soul and tried to put it in this diary, that's what going on," Tom said sharply. You knew that tone, too. Behind it he was hiding his horror. "But it's not in the diary. That night… Well, during the ritual it chose another vessel”.

You burst into nervous laughter. Merlin, who does he think he is?! The new Adalbert Waffling?!.

"And where is it now, then? Has it chosen, I don’t know, a rock for a new home?!"

Instead of answering, Tom leaned in and kissed you on the lips. Slowly. Pleadingly. Tenderly. Then, before you realized what he was doing, his cool fingers quickly cupped your chin, and the kiss turned into a snake bite. Sarp, demanding, lethal.

“I’m sorry,” he said barely audibly when you got your breath back. “I didn’t think it would turn out like this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

…The next night you dreamed of a small room in which you were sitting on an iron bed, clutching the bars with a death grip. The gray light from the window illuminated the opposite brick wall, when a boy with a pale face and black holes instead of eyes crawled out of it, came up to the bed and laid his head on your lap. He closed his hollow eyes and looked almost like an ordinary child, a very sad one.

“I liked you right away,” he said. “You’re so much better than that stupid diary. You’re warm inside and you love me. You’ll treat me well, right? Better than he did? You won’t leave me? You won’t leave me, right? You won’t? Never ever?”

You patted his head with trembling fingers.

“I won’t leave you, Tommy. I won’t.”

***

Spreading her arms as if for a hug, Y/N laughs playfully:

“Tom! Are you napping over there? Let’s go—show me that spell works!”

The wind flutters the red and yellow scarf on her chest. Red stripe, yellow stripe, red stripe. A target. Tom raises his wand.

His hand is trembling.