#Help I just realised I forgot to render the hair entirely

[trainwrecksys]

Since I literally just posted on insta then finished this off I decided to space out my posts since I’m a literal art machine it’s concerning

Anyway PRIDE MONTH!!!! happy pride month from caul in a very bright (rightfully so) outfit since he deserves to be very gay… or queer… or perhaps… stretching the meaning…….. peculiar

[killthe-illusionarydreams]

Ashes To Ashes

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: ‘Please could you write a Fred Weasley imagine where you’re inside the burrow when Bellatrix sets it on fire and Fred runs in to get you out?? Thank you, I’m really loving you writing!’ For anonymous

Ps- i havent read the books or seen the movies in a while so I kinda went w the time it was fleur & bills wedding & intergrated it w that, sorry if its not what u wanted but I did write Bellatrix’s attack in x

————

Today was the big day. For today was the the day where Fleur & Bill were finally to be wed. For their celebration to erase war from anyones thoughts, today they were just two kids in love, not undercover Order Workers. Today they were simply girl & boy.

“Oi Y/N hurry up, Fleur’s asking for you” Ginny shouts practically breathless as she runs past your room, trying to find Hermione for the bride.

You pick up the gorgeous bouqet that earlier today you picked up from the florist for the woman and made your way downstairs into the living room. As you take a closer look, you notice something is off. Fleur was standing rigidly still, looking in the mirror unblinking.

“Fleur, darling, are you alright?”

The woman remained silent, Y/N had no idea what to do, she’d never seen her friend so paniced, so immobile. Ever since Y/N’s sixth year (after the Triwizard Tournament) the two kept in contact, maintaining a solid friendship with the other, who wouldve known that years later Fleur would join the family that you had already been apart of.

“Its okay to be nervous.” You sit beside the Frenchwoman “Just talk through it” grabbing her hand you pull her down to sit beside you.

“It’z all so scary Y/N. I love Bill, I really do, but what if he realises he doesnt feel the same about me and leaves me there?” She faces you, eyes glossed over

That caused you to frowm slightly “Bill loves you more than he loves life itself Fleaur, everybody knows that he’d do anything for you just to see you happy- not many can say that they have a person like that.” You smile lightly, thinking about your person. “You constantly say how much you love him, so if you stil feel that for him, theres no need to be scared of getting married-These are the normal pre wedding doubts, none of them are true. Besides, I’m sure if Bill tried to run away from such a gorgeous and talented person as you, Molly would raise havoc and go to the ends of the earth to get him back.”

Fleur looks up at you, smiling, but with stray tears going down her face “Thank you Y/N” she throws herself forward and hugs you “It’s just a big step & I’ve been so emotional lately because of-“ she hesitates

A look of realisation dawns on you and you beam, hugging her once more but tighter “You’re joking? Congratulations!” You give her a peck on the cheek “Does Bill know?” You queried as she shook her head

“Non, I only confirmed it a week ago. Please dont tell anyone Y/N.” She looks at you with pleading eyes and you vigorously nod

“Of course. I wont say a thing, this is your secret. But how about we start getting ready for your wedding hmm.”

As Y/N started to do Fleurs makeup, Hermione rushed in with the wedding dress that her and Molly had been making final adjustments to, Ginny was running around frantically trying to get all the guests in the right places and seats. Once commisioning your help to shout at a group of loiterers to leave the premises because they wouldnt listen to the red head girl. All in all, after many hours, Fleaur was ready.

“You look gorgeous.” Gabrielle beamed at her sister

“Stunning.”

“Ethereal.”

“I might just steal you from Bill” you wink and cause her to laugh and blow you a kiss “I’ll go get everyone ready, you still have plenty of time to relax.” Handing Gabrielle the bouqet, you rush out of the room, which proved to be quite difficult in heels. But bearing through the pain, you get outside and see rows and rows of the fragile golden chairs set on either side of the long purple carpet. The supporting poles to the gazeebo top were entwined with gorgeous white and gold flowers. As you look to where there was supposed to be an enormous bunch of balloons, you frown to see it bare.

“George!” You shout getting his attention “Wheres Fred? You were supposed to the balloons up ages-“ you feel strong arms pick you up and spin you around, making you let out a shriek of surprise, thankfully not loud enough to get the attention of the others

“I’m here my love, disposable at your command.” He purrs into your ear, sending chills down your spine

“Put me down asshole” you laugh and turn to face him, before you could manage to say anything you were taken aback at how he looked. “You got a haircut.” You stated plainly and ran a hand through his hair as he put his arms around your waist.

“Correction, George cut my hair when I wasnt paying attention so ‘people would be able to tell the difference between us’” he wrinkled his nose

You stare at him, dumbstruck “As if the hole on the side of his head wasnt enough.” Fred laughs and says thats what he said “I like it, it suits you.”

Fred grins and kisses you, “Lets face it Y/N you like anything when its to do with me.”

You roll your eyes and hum in agreement “Thats because I love you Fred. But I will seriously consider breaking up with you if you dont get the balloons up as you promised.”

Fred gives you a small peck & jumps back from you “I’m on it!” and runs over towards his brother to finally do what he had to. You smile at him, reminiscing at how you managed to fall in love with such an idiotic man, yet you could never wish for more. Fred Weasley was truly perfect.

Shaking your head you turn back to the guests that were not where they were supposed to be before shouting “Get to your seats and away from the food please! Thats for after the ceremony!” You swat their hands before adding “If you dont know where youre supposed to be, go to Hermione and Molly, they will tell you.” You motion to the pair before walking around to make last minute adjustments.

The wedding ceremony went beautifully, Fleur was walked down with her bridesmaids: Gabrielle & Ginny. When in sight, she rendered everyone breathless, she was ethereal, the most gorgeous a person could possibly look. Molly teared up from the get go at the sight of her eldest marrying, many more joined in when they said their vows. You could not believe that the day of your friends wedding had finally arrived. Throughout the entire sitting down portion of the ceremony, Fred was holding your hand and rubbing circles on it, an assurance that through everything you went through- you were still together- still alive.

*

The loud music was ringing through the field, dancing bodies surrounded you, but you paid them no mind, your main focus on Fred.

“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look Y/N?”

You laugh lightly as you sway to the beat “No, I must’ve missed it the other ten times you said it”

“Well you do, absolutely bewitching, are you sure you didnt use a love poition on me? I never knew feeling this was possible.” He jokes as he spins you

“Must be my natural charm and charisma that got you so captured Fred.”

“Must be.” He mutters softly looking into your eyes. Fred was completely besotted by you, more than anyone had ever seen him be, he just knew that Y/N was perfect. The way that she’d light up any room she walked in, the way that she’d never back down from a challenge, and just simply how she made him feel. Dear Merlin he loved the girl. “After this do you fancy going away for a bit?”

You look at him sceptically “Planning out your murderous fantasies are we?”

He laughs and shakes his head “You’re impossible. No, since the shops closed I thought we could go away somewhere before everything with the war kicks off, I want as much time with you as I can get.”

“Oh” you forgot that the wizarding world was on the brink of war “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. But if you sneak George along i swear to Merlin I will live through my murderous fantasy & kill the pair of you.”

Fred chuckles again, before nodding “Promise, no George. I think he got an eyefull when he barged into our room without knocking.”

“Serves him right.” You mumble “I told him on multiple occasions to knock.”

The rest of the song died down and you stayed in Freds arms for a moment, before he was being wisked away to dance with Aunt Muriel, he held an awfully sour look as you giggled when she hounded on him to straighten his back, then saying that he was too tall.

“I’m a bit cold, I’ll go get a jacket then I’ll be right back” Y/N kissed his cheek & left to get back inside the burrow. Thinking nothing of it, she poured herself another drink, smiling to herself at how Fred would have to have another dance with Muriel. What an awful woman.

Unbeknown to the girl, a silver patronus intruded on the celebration to announce grave news. “The Ministary has fallen. The Minister of magic is dead. They are coming. They are coming.” Everyone scrabled to find their loved ones, to make sure that they were safe, but before Fred even had the chance to look for Y/N, everything burst into havoc. The gazeebo was now engulfed in flames, Death Eaters showing up everywhere to curse them.

“Y/N!” Fred shouted, frantically looking around for the girl “Y/N!”

He turned around and was greeted by a paniced Mr Weasley “Theres not much time Fred, I dont know where she is, you need to get to safety and leave. Now!”

Fred ignored his fathers protests and ran, dodging various spells being shot from either side. He had to find you, he had to know you were safe.

An abrupt crash jolts you back into reality, you get up to run and go outside but with a sudden ‘whoosh’ and black smoke- two Death Eaters appear infront of you.

“Shit.” You mumble & grab your wand, quickly dodging their spells you manage to knock one out & try to deal with the other. “You’re quite persistant-“ blue sparks shoot from your wand, the figure ran upstairs & you follow.

“And you’re associated with mud-blood scum!” A flash of green emerged from their wand that narrowly missed you, you grin

“You missed.” You kick a chair at the figure, momentarily distracting them to cast a spell “Stupefy! Petrificus totalus!” As the figure was knocked out & bound together, you walk over and spit out “Get a life, prick” snapping their wand in two.

In the middle of your fight, you had not noticed that the commotion outside had turned to an arsonists playground. looking through the window you call for Fred, hearing no response your heart stops, you leave the room & try to get down the stairs but now they were already engulfed by flames.

“Oh shit” you panic and shoot spells at it to stop the fire from spreading, but to no avail, it only got worse. Smoke was now clouding your vision, realising that if you were not to jump down you’d perish in this fire. Letting out a short breath, you hype yourself up for the leap of your life “You can do it Y/N. Come on” violetly coughing, you jump. Unfortunately landing a fair few stairs too high. Unbearable pain shoots up through your leg & you cry out in pain.

Sinking to the floor you couldnt even move, the pain in your arm and leg restricting you. This was it, this would be how you die. All alone, with no one to help you, no one to save you. In a burning house. Yet the only thought racing through your mind was ‘Is Fred safe’. Thankfully most of the fire was behind you, the staircase had completely gone up in flames however, the roof was begining to crumble down. A plank toppled down, narrowly missing you, but making the room next to you catch on fire.

As you were losing conciousness you hear a strained yell “Y/N!” You try to respond, but all that came out was a series of violent coughs “Y/N im coming, hang on!” You couldn’t see what was happening, i dont know if it was the thick cloud of smoke or the fact that you were breathing most of it in, but your vision blurred.

A faint figure emerged, breathless, trying to get through the flames & to you fast enough “Hey Y/N ive got you, im here.” You felt yourself being picked up & your body fell like a ragdoll. “Oh merlin dont die on me Y/N.” Was the last thing you heard before passing out.

*

The abrupt light and noise woke you up, yet you were unable to open your eyes, they were far too heavy for the little energy you had. Were you dead? Is this what death felt like?

“Stop pacing Fred, she’ll be fine.” You heard a voice say, however, unable to distinguish who it belonged to “shes a strong girl, the nurses said so.”

“Yeah they also said she’d wake up yesterday, so my apologies if I dont believe what they have to say.” He snapped

Fred. Oh yes, Fred. He came into the building to save you didnt he? So that answered your question of being dead. You were very much alive, but dear Merlin you were in unbearable pain.

“She’ll be up and about soon though? Her body was exhausted thats why shes sleeping so long right?” He continued, sounding unsure. Well if this is how they reacted to you passing out you wouldn’t want to know how theyd react if you died.

“And id appreciate it if I could sleep some more.” You croak out as you let your eyes open. Coming to face the whole clan of distressed red heads, Harry, Hermione & Fleur.

Fred snaps to face you and a look of relief washes over his features “Y/N” he whispers and rushes to your side hugging you “You’re okay. You’re alive. Thank Merlin.”

You try to chuckle, which abruptly turns into a wheze “I’m okay yeah, in a lot of pain but I’m fine.” Fred retreats from you, an apologetic look on his face.

“Come on kids lets give them some space.” Molly ushers everyone out of the room “I’m glad you’re okay Y/N” she sends you a smile and leaves the room for you and Fred to be alone.

Moments pass with Fred just looking at you with glassy eyes before he abruptly let out “You bloody scared me half to death!”

You motion for him to help you sit up “Oh I do apologise that me nearly burning in a fire scared you. I wasnt very happy about it either.”

Fred looks at you speachless, confused at how you can joke about it so soon. He remains quiet before letting out a big sigh and hanging his head into his lap “I thought I lost you.” He mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear

“Hey, look at me.” You say and put his face into your left hand with the little energy you have “I’m okay, I’m alive. And so are you” he smiles faintly before you continue “Obviously as gorgeous as ever, so nothing irreversible happened.”

He laughs “Obviously.”

While in the room Fred filled you in on what happened, that after the Death Eaters showed up & they fought them off- Bellatrix Lestrange set fire to the burrow & he ran in to get you out. He told you that you passed out & that you had to be taken to St Mungos to treat your broken leg and the burn on your arm.

“The nurses said you were lucky to get out alive Y/N” he said lowly, not being able to bear the thought of your death.

“Im alive because of you Fred. Thank you.” You offer a weak smile “There were two Death Eaters in the house when it burned up-“

“Thats not on your concious to bear, Its on Bellatrix Lestrange.”

You nod, in all honesty you didnt feel bad that they perished in the fire- their downfall was their own undoing. But what was on your mind was the fire burn “When I’m better do you recon I’ll l have a cool badass scar?”

Fred shakes his head as he holds your hand, of course thats what Y/N is thinking about “‘course you will, It’ll become part of badass backstory.”

“Good” you mumble and close your eyes. After a long silence you relax back into your pillow, the sleeping draft & skelly-grow hitting you like a brick. You begin to mumble incoherent sentences

“Hey Freddie?”

He looks at your peaceful face, all calm against the pillow and responds “Yes my love?”

After a little pause of small mumbles, you ask “When I’m better, can we leave for our trip?”

“Whatever you want Y/N.” He smiles lightly & watches you drift off to sleep, hoping that ‘better’ would come along faster.

—————

Ahh okay hi! Omg this took so long to write, again sorry its not the actual bellatrix fire story, i jus forgot how it happened & when I remembered I wrote too much of it. <33

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Mark Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a call which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The date begins on a winter day, with MC receiving a call from Teacher Zheng

Teacher Zheng used to be MC’s music teacher in Loveland High, and her mentor in the school orchestra. They continued keeping in touch even after MC graduated

Teacher Zheng informs MC that the renovations for the Teaching Building have been completed, so she invites MC back to school to have a look

She also asks her to bring Gavin along :>

MC recalls what happened back in summer, when she and Gavin had returned to Loveland High

In summer, Teacher Zheng found an old scrapbook while clearing the rooms in preparation for the upcoming renovation, and invited everyone from the orchestra to return

[Note] Everything from here onwards takes place in a flashback:

I sneak a peek at Gavin, who is standing beside me. He’s wearing a simple, casual t-shirt. In his eyes, there’s a flash of nostalgia and... nervousness? 

MC: Gavin, don’t be nervous. I’ve already talked to Teacher Zheng. She’s welcomes you to participate in our gathering. Also, it’s been such a long time since everyone last met, so it’s a certainty that there’ll be some people who have changed completely. They might even think that you were their ex-classmate haha~

Gavin looks at me and nods lightly, a faint smile appearing on his lips. 

Gavin: Mm, I know that you’ve arranged everything. 

Gavin: If we’re talking about being nervous... as compared to that time, it’s still pretty all right today.

MC: That time?

Gavin: That time in spring. 

[Note] Blushy Boy is referring to the New Year Date T^T

While he says this, sunlight happens to fall onto Gavin’s eyes. There is light undulating in his amber eyes, and it tugs at my heart beat. 

I recall the moments from back then. Feeling my face heat up from the sun, I hurriedly change the topic.

MC: Let’s go in, it’s almost time!

Gavin: Mm, let’s go.

As they enter the school, MC wonders if the renovation work would render Loveland High different from the Loveland High in her memories

While she ponders on this, they enter the music room

Apart from a few instruments, only a few empty cupboards and chairs are left in the room

Teacher Zheng is sitting by the piano, and MC is greeted by both familiar and unfamiliar faces

Although we didn't arrive late, I pull Gavin along and we walk forward hastily. 

MC: Sorry, I didn't expect everyone to arrive so early... I’m MC. 

Female ex-student: Of course we know who you are! Weren’t you the one who contacted everyone just a few days ago? Leader MC is still so dazed~

Teacher Zheng laughs while shaking her head, and the surrounding ex-students also laugh along with her. Abashed, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. 

In contrast to everyone’s laughter, Gavin doesn’t really know what’s going on. He turns, looking at me in confusion. 

Gavin: Leader? 

I’m a little embarrassed to explain, since this was something that happened many years ago. I didn’t expect this matter to be brought up right now. 

Male ex-student: MC was the leader of the school orchestra. Did you forget? Eh, come to think of it... you weren’t from the orchestra, were you? Leader, why didn’t you tell us earlier that we could bring our family members?

Laughter resounds again. At a loss for words, I can only pull Gavin over and introduce him to them. 

MC: Stop laughing already! This is everybody’s senior!

Gavin: ... [coughs]. My name is Gavin.

In a split second, the noise ceases abruptly. After a moment of silence, whispers surface in the crowd. 

Vaguely, I can catch a few phrases. 

“Bad.”

“Fighting.”

“Misfit.”

...

I was so focused on getting Teacher Zheng’s approval that I forgot about the many rumours among students in his grade. 

Feeling as though my heart has been violently grabbed by someone, I subconsciously clasp Gavin’s hand very tightly. Yet, I don’t dare to look at his expression.

MC: Senior... Gavin is a very good person. What happened in the past didn’t happen like what you all heard! Also... also, he’s very good at playing the guitar and bass!

Perhaps I was too emotional and couldn’t control my volume. My voice was not only loud, but also trembling slightly.

The music room turns quiet, and all the soft discussions stop.

Only now do I regain my senses and realise what I had just done. Facing everyone’s gaping and shocked expressions, I hem and haw awkwardly.

MC: I-I mean...

Suddenly, I feel a warm hand on the top of my head. 

In contrast to my flustered state, Gavin looks incredibly calm. He doesn’t seem to care about everyone’s comments at all. 

He tousles my hair, and his gaze softens.

Gavin: You’re exaggerating. I only know how to play them, that’s all. 

Teacher Zheng: Student Gavin knows how to play musical instruments, so that’s something we can all talk about. 

Teacher Zheng helps to smooth things over. A few students cough lightly, and make sounds of agreement. The tension in the air finally eases. 

I release a breath. Just as I’m about to apologise to Gavin for my lack of thorough preparation, he suddenly lowers his head and draws close to my ear. 

Gavin: Thank you.

Although these words of thanks are so soft that only the both of us can hear them, they crash heavily onto my heart, messing up its rhythm.

After that incident, everyone starts getting nostalgic about the past. Eventually, some ex-students prepare to leave because they have other things to do

MC takes out her Polaroid camera and requests for a group photo before they leave

Gavin: I’ll help you take the photo.

MC: Hm... you could help us take a photo first, then join us for the next one? I’ll hold the camera. 

Gavin is slightly stunned. While he hesitates, Teacher Zheng makes a decision for him. 

Teacher Zheng: That’s a good idea. Since you’re already here, you should take a photograph as a memento.

I nod my head at the side, like a chick pecking rice grains on the ground. Gavin looks at me, then laughs softly. 

Gavin: Got it. 

Very quickly, we take our group photos, and a number of students leave. They leave one by one after saying goodbye to Teacher Zheng. In the end, only Gavin and I are left. 

Teacher Zheng: Aren’t you two leaving? 

MC: I will... We will accompany you for a while longer. 

Teacher Zheng: Not rushing off for a date? 

Date! I feel as though my entire face is just about to flush red. Before I can retort, Gavin has already answered her question naturally.

Gavin: It’s all right, the date has been shifted to next week. 

MC: ...Gavin!

Seeing Teacher Zheng suppressing a grin, I feel even more shy. Gavin, on the other hand, tilts his head towards me, a perplexed look in his eyes. 

Gavin: What’s wrong?

I have no choice but to let the heat on my cheeks continue to rise, and frantically think of how to divert the topic. 

MC: Nothing... oh yes Teacher Zheng, you mentioned that you found a scrapbook from back them. Could I have a look? 

Teacher Zheng gives me a knowing glance, but she simply blinks and responds.

 Teacher Zheng: The things here have been tidied up and brought to the greenhouse. The two of you can go there afterwards. It’s in a box labelled “Music Room”.

While she speaks, she takes out a set of keys from her pocket. When I reach out for them, the key suddenly spins and is held firmly in Teacher Zheng’s hand.

Teacher Zheng: Before I let you two go there, I have a request. 

MC: Eh?

Gavin: Please continue.

I react by subconsciously nodding my head along with Gavin. From my memory, Teacher Zheng has always been a gentle and soft person, so I have no idea what request she has. 

Teacher Zheng: Just now, MC mentioned that you play the guitar and bass incredibly. Could you let me hear it? It’d be best if the two of you could play together. I haven’t heard my Orchestra Leader play the piano in a very long time. 

To be honest, this is not a “request” at all. If Teacher Zheng wants to hear it, I’ll definitely be willing to play for her. But Gavin...

I cast Gavin a probing glance, wondering if there’s a need to persuade him. To my surprise, he nods. 

Gavin: I could, but I’m really not as skilled as she says.

Teacher Zheng: Haha that’s all right. I just want you to use your heart when performing. What’s important isn’t how good it sounds, but the heart. 

Gavin: Could I borrow the guitar over there? 

Teacher Zheng: Of course. 

With her answer, Gavin walks to the guitar case leaning against the wall, and retrieves the guitar to test the sound. 

Baffled, I look towards him, then at Teacher Zheng. I can’t fathom how they reached a common understanding so quickly, so I just plop myself in front of the piano. 

MC: What should we play?

Before I finish speaking, Gavin’s fingers sweep over the strings. 

After a few notes, I recognise the song. 

It’s “Falling Slowly” - a song I’d often play in high school, and a song I like very much.

[Note] I’m assuming the song is “Falling Slowly” by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova because the lyrics suit them very aptly -clutches heart-

Gavin: Is this song all right?

MC: Ah... mm.

As far as I remember, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this song to Gavin. Why would he suggest this song? Could it be a mere coincidence?

Even though I’m confused, I quickly focus on the music and follow the guitar’s melody, my fingers dancing across the black and white keys.

In my peripheral vision, I see Gavin with his head lowered slightly.

The wind tousles his hair. Maybe it’s just my misperception, or the sunlight just happened to fall onto his eyes, but I keep feeling as though his eyes are even brighter than usual. It’s as though they are flashing with light.

This is a slightly melancholic song, but the moving light and wind seem to make it refreshing and clear. 

Before realising it, I’ve already completely immersed myself into the music. I close my eyes, and the notes and melody drift in the air. 

Finally, the tune ends. The sound of applause at my ear brings me back to my senses. 

Teacher Zheng: That was an amazing ensemble. 

MC and Gavin: That’s an overpraise. 

We respond in unison. Teacher Zheng lets out a smile in response to this, then takes out the set of keys again.

Teacher Zheng: As I promised earlier, here. 

MC: Thank you!

I hurriedly take the keys, then dangle them in Gavin’s direction with a satisfied smile. 

Sunlight falls onto the corners of Gavin’s shirt, and the leaves rustle. He smiles as well. 

-

Gavin and I walk out of the music room. As compared to noon, the sunlight is less intense now, and the path towards the greenhouse, shaded by shadows cast by the trees, is cooling. 

MC: Gavin, I remember you mentioning that you don’t like playing the guitar in front of others... why did you agree to the ensemble?

Gavin: Because I felt that you really wanted to look at that scrapbook. Besides, I wanted to see what “Leader MC” looked like.

MC: Oo... let’s agree that if you see any strange photos, you’re not allowed to laugh at me...

I recollect several “dark histories” I used to have, and involuntarily break out in sweat. Gavin laughs. 

Gavin: Of course I wouldn’t. Actually... I agreed to the ensemble for another important reason. 

MC: What is it? 

Gavin: I said that I wanted to play this song with you before. 

Gavin’s words are akin to a droplet of water, causing waves to ripple across my memory. It makes me recall that phone call he once made a very long time ago, and the music from those dusty years.

[Note] Yes, she's referring to this cancelled CN call T^T

MC: Back then... you learnt the guitar because I played “Falling Slowly”?

Gavin: Mm. After we talked that day, I realised I didn’t know the name of the song. Now, I do. 

Gavin’s smile morphs from resignation to relief. Light from his amber eyes reflect into mine, and I seem to enter a trance.

It’s as though I’ve gone back to the past, and am walking along the shaded path after school. Just that this time, there’s one more person by my side.

A person who has walked from the past to the present with me. 

-

They reach the greenhouse, but they see tons of boxes stacked atop each other

They split up to look for the “Music Room” box

Finally, MC spots the box at the corner, but has to bring down boxes in order to reach it

While she tries to grab the box on her tiptoes, it topples towards her:

Not having enough time to dodge, I lift my hands in front of me, hoping to buffer the collision! 

However, the pain I anticipated doesn’t arrive. Instead, a warm gust of wind encases me.

I put down my hands slowly, only to see Gavin, who has suddenly appeared. His arms are lifted as he holds onto the box, and his other hand is on my shoulder, bringing with It continuous warmth. 

Gavin: Are you all right? 

MC: I’m fine... oh yes! I found the music room box. It’s over there, the one in the middle!

Gavin: I see it. Move over there a little. I’ll get it. 

Knowing full well that I’d cause trouble even by standing at the side, I listen to him and shirk to a corner, watching as Gavin brings the boxes down. 

Sunlight pours in through the glass. When I finally see that he’s almost able to reach for the box we need, I turn to Gavin excitedly, but discover a sheen of sweat on his neck.

Even so, Gavin continues to carry a box steadily in his hands, the lines on his arm muscles defined.

I want to go forward to help him wipe off the sweat, but I don’t dare to move around recklessly, and decide to change tactics on how I can help.

MC: Is it a little hot? I can buy a bottle of water for you. The mini mart should still be open.

Gavin: No need. Just two more and I’ll be able to get it.

MC: Oo... I’ll still get water. Anyway, there are other items I want to buy too.

While saying this, I leave no chance for Gavin to retort. I turn around and run to the mini mart. 

By the time I return to the greenhouse, Gavin has just set down the final box. 

My heat stirs. I take out the ice-cold bottle, wanting to give him a fright. But Gavin suddenly turns around--

His eyes are wide open, and they shift between the bottle I’ve lifted in the air, and my awkward expression. 

MC: Erm... water for you.

Probably guessing that I was up to something, a smile appears on Gavin’s lips, but he doesn’t expose me. 

He takes the bottle and easily twists the cap open. He hands it back to me, then takes another bottle for himself. 

Gavin: What else did you buy... stationery? 

Apart from two bottles of ice water, the plastic bag from the supermarket also contains two pens, a few post-it notes, and a stick of glue. 

Looking at Gavin’s confused expression, I deliberately place a finger on my lips secretively. 

MC: You’ll know what they’re for later~

The cold water slides down my throat, and the heat dissipates instantly. After Gavin and I take a short break, it’s finally time to open the box!

The cardboard box releases a “cha” sound, as though opening the doors to memories as well. 

A rather old yet well-maintained scrapbook is resting atop a wad of music scores. I gently lift it up. 

MC: Look, we drew the picture on the cover ourselves. 

Gavin: The drawing looks very nice. Is this the orchestra’s symbol? 

I nod, and start telling Gavin about the picture we drew, photos from various activities, and even the teacher’s message...

Occasionally, Gavin would ask me one or two questions, but most of the time, he listens to me quietly, his gaze focused. 

Eventually, as the remaining pages become less and less, I finally flip to the last few pages, which feature messages. 

MC: Now that we’re done, let’s commence the next step!

From the plastic bag, I retrieve the stationery. After handing one pen to Gavin, I point towards an empty space in the scrapbook.

MC: Write something? 

Gavin: Hm?

MC: For example, your memories from high school? Basically, those messages everyone writes in a scrapbook.

Hearing my explanation, Gavin seems increasingly confused. His brows knit together slightly. 

Gavin: I know. But I’m not part of the school orchestra, and this book...

MC: You are from now onwards!

I take out the group photo we took in the music room, then retrieve the glue stick, carefully pasting it in the scrapbook. Then, I clear my throat pretentiously. 

MC: Cough cough, in the capacity of orchestra’s leader, I hereby announce that from this day onwards, Student Gavin is one of our members. Everyone, please give him a warm welcome!

After saying this, I start clapping, and even pull Gavin to clap together with me.

MC: Now, you can write! Next time, if anyone speaks nonsense, we can show them the scrapbook, and no one will be allowed to call you a misfit, hmph.

When I bring this up, I can’t help but feel angry. Gavin laughs softly.

Gavin: [laughs a gentle, beautiful laugh that can make flowers grow] So you were thinking about that. 

Watching him laugh at me, I feel slightly petty. I hem and haw and think of how to explain myself. 

MC: I wasn’t. I just... didn’t like it when they looked at you that way. 

Gavin: I know. 

It’s almost evening. Golden light falls onto Gavin’s cheeks, outlining his hair - glittering and slightly unkempt.

Gavin lowers his head, and the light follows his movement, descending onto the scrapbook, illuminating every word he writes. 

“I’m very happy to have met you in the past.”

Very near to these words is the group photo we took together. In it, Gavin is standing beside me, looking a little cramped, but there is a smile on his face. 

The soft chirping of cicadas mixes with the sound of wind, evoking a sense of tenderness. The sun is no longer as blazing as it was before. 

I can’t bear to shatter the tranquility, so I just smile, my heart responding softly with this sentence:

I’m also very happy... that you’re willing to leave a new mark on my past. 

[uncomfortable-writers]

Sugar and Spice (Tony x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Marvel

Character: Tony Stark

Persona: Female

Word Count: 2,984

Warnings: Sugar Daddy!Tony, hella smutty, a little rough/kinky (spanking, oral, choking, daddy kink), NSFW, swearing

18+ ONLY

A/N - For my love.  A little different to stuff i usually write, shameless smut without plot although I am kinda interested in turning this into a mini series if that’s something y’all would like to see? Feedback is appreciated! Anyways enjoy <3

Tag List: @ofmiceand-batman

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡

It always started with a text, sometimes a phone call if he was feeling more daring or pushed for time. He always paid very generously even if you did decline the money it would always, somehow, end up in your bank. You couldn’t even remember how your arrangement started but you sure as hell were grateful for it. When your phone buzzed at exactly nine o’clock on the dot you almost didn’t check it. Today at work had been stressful so after you treated yourself to a warm bath, you all but collapsed into your fuzzy blankets strewn across your bed:

From: Daddy ♡

i’ll be over in 10, want u in that pink number i bought u, see u soon princess xo

It was like a weight dropped in your stomach. All the tiredness and pent up annoyance washed away in a second to be replaced by excitement, one that you didn’t realise you were hungry for.

Leaping up out of bed you made all the standard preparations like throwing on the tight, little pink bodysuit that hugged you just right and made Tony’s mouth water. It was very revealing, leaving little to the imagination. Checking the time on your phone you saw you had a few minutes to spare, Tony was always the punctual man. Dimming the lights you lit a few scented candles to add to the atmosphere. He loved it when the room smelt almost as sweet as you. Straightening out your bedsheets you made sure everything was in order, Tony liked your prim and proper organisation, it added a little order to his somewhat chaotic life. Just as you finished straightening out your pillows there was a knock on your door.

Skipping over to the door, you attempted to regain your composure before opening it to reveal Tony. He was dressed in one of his suits which cost more than your entire apartment. It helped add to the confidence he was already exuding. You couldn’t see his honey-coloured eyes as they were hidden behind his usual pair of sunglasses, they dragged slowly down your body and he couldn’t resist letting out a low whistle, after checking you out he tucked the glasses into his top jacket pocket. Looking dapper as ever with one hand resting on the doorframe, he used his other to nudge it open further, “Hey baby, you miss me?”. He walked further into the room and closed the door behind him, you let a giggle spill from your lips as you practically jumped onto the older man, your arms wrapped automatically around his neck like you’d done so many times before, “Of course I did”. He was a few inches taller than you but you still wrapped your legs around his waist, Tony’s large hand came to rest on your ass, the other on your hip. He squeezed it cheekily as his lips came to attack your neck, his beard tickling you all the while. He loved leaving marks.

Reluctantly Tony tapped your ass again to signal you to drop down, you wordlessly followed his order. “I missed you too princess”, Tony cooed as he gripped your chin and pressed his lips to yours, “I couldn’t wait to get away tonight and I mean look at you. All ready for me”. You intrepidly leaned up to steal another kiss. You felt Tony smile into it, his hands everywhere on your body and you mimicked his actions. You could never get enough of him, pulling back you looked up at him through your lashes, “Well let’s not keep you waiting then”.

You gripped his silk tie, using it as a lead you gently pulled him towards the bed. Tony didn’t protest, sometimes he liked it when you took control. You were about to push him down onto the bed so you could straddle him when he stopped and planted his feet into the carpeted floor.

Tony tutted disappointedly, “I think you’ve forgotten something, baby girl”. Your face visibly dropped as you scanned his own for any hint as to what it may of been. You room was tidy, you’d worn what he’d asked....Tony’s hand reached out and wrapped around your throat and in an instant you knew what you’d forgotten. “Where’s your collar baby?”, he cooed, his thumb rubbing circles as he constricted your air flow lightly triggering a flood of warmth to pool in your underwear. “I forgot I’m sorry”, you stuttered out in your panic, upset that you were displeasing your Iron Man. Tony’s face contorted further, “You’re sorry what?”, his voice suddenly dropped an octave signifying even more of his disapproval. “I’m sorry daddy”, you quickly added, your (E/C) eyes like a doe’s. Tony smiled at you, pleased with your response, “You’ve been naughty (Y/N). Very naughty. First you’ve forgotten your collar...”, his hand wandered to your cheek where his thumb then dragged across your lip, “And then you forget who you’re talking to? We just can’t have that now, can we?”. While maintaining eye contact you let your tongue dart out, licking his thumb and sucking it into your mouth. You shook your head in response to his question loving the way that every time you sucked harder on his thumb, Tony closed his eyes, his signature smirk plastered to his features. “You deserve a punishment, don’t you princess?”. 

You nodded again to show you understood, feeling extra risque you suckled harder. Tony was already going to punish you so you might as well have your fun. He groaned loudly and bit his lip, “On the bed. Now”.

You sauntered backwards until your legs hit the bed, a wicked grin on your face. Collapsing onto it you tucked your legs under yourself and waited with your hands on your knees just like Tony had trained you to do. The older man hummed in approval, he started to undo his suit jacket. Your stomach flipped in anticipation; Tony was purposely dragging it out knowing how excited it would render you. He draped the jacket over the back of a chair and discarded his shoes near it. Next he slowly undid his tie as he finally walked over to you. Sitting down next to you he watched you intimidatingly, delicately folding his tie and placing it near him. “Now sweetheart, how do you think we should punish you?”, his hand tangled in your hair, as he stroked it lovingly.  “Whatever you thinks best daddy”. Tony pretended to think, enjoying the way you were quietly whining and leaning into his hand, “I think we should start with a spanking, how does twenty sound baby girl?”.  

“Yes please daddy”, you eagerly answered in a flash much to Tony’s amusement. He chuckled and suddenly his hand tightened in your hair as he used it to pull you across his lap, “Get comfortable then. Make sure you count loud and clear for me you pretty little thing”.

Before starting Tony admired the view, his big hands squeezed the tender flesh of your behind as you laid splayed out for him. He pulled on the thong, of the bodysuit letting it ping back against your skin. You moaned out of pleasure but it quickly turned into a squeal of pain. The noise of skin hitting skin echoed around your room, “One”. Tony let his fingers dance across your cheek building up the tension which he finally ended with another slap to your ass, “Two”. “You’re doing great baby girl”, he praised. 

18 spankings later and you were a hot, drooling mess trying hard not to wriggle around in Tony’s lap. Your ass was redder than your cheeks were, the stinging on your behind soothed by Tony added to the pleasure stirring in between your legs and the fact that you could feel Tony’s arousal against your thigh was only helping to push you over the edge. “You are such a good girl for daddy”, he said, “Are you okay princess?”. He lifted you off of him to stand on the floor in front of him, you were at eye level with him. Only now could Tony appreciate the effect he had on you: wild eyed, cheeks flushed and lips puffy. His hand stroked your cheek as he waited for your answer, Tony would never push you past your limits and he always wanted to make sure you were okay. His hand burnt your cheek, you needed more, “I’m okay but I need you daddy. Wanna make you feel good”, you mewled. Tony’s eyes lit up, your words only adding to his hardness. His hands shot out and grabbed your shoulders pushing you down onto your knees, “You wanna make me feel good? Get on your knees and open wide baby girl”.

That was all the permission you needed.

In a heartbeat you started to work on his zipper, your mouth already salivating. Once that was undone you gripped greedily at both the top of his trousers and the waistband of his boxers. As you started to pull them down Tony lifted his hips to aid you. Tony’s cock never failed to make you go starry-eyed, it was big and it was girthy, the tip swollen and already leaking precum. Just the way you liked it. 

You gingerly let your tongue swirl gently over the head gathering the salty liquid as you lightly gripped the base of his cock. “Fuck”, Tony sighed softly trying to keep his head from drooping backwards. Your mouth opened wide enough just to take the tip fully in, you sucked softly as your hand teased the rest of his length. He was starting to grow impatient. Tony started to caress your hair and suddenly he tangled his fingers into it, forcing you to take in more of him. Relaxing your mouth you placed your hands onto his thighs, he grunted, “Be a good girl and take it”. You were midway down his length when he started to push into your throat, the burn all too familiar. You tried to repress a gag unsuccessfully, Tony relented pulling your hair to pull your head back up, strands of your drool coating his cock, “Just relax baby”, he instructed giving you a second to breathe before he started to push you back down. You hummed around his length as you soon got back to the midlength point, Tony moaned again pushing slightly on your head. You took a few more inches, you could feel your stomach tightening as he slid further and further into your throat until your nose was tickled by his neatly trimmed curly pubic hairs. “Oh fuck princess”, he held you still, one hand still on your hair, the other rubbing your throat where he could feel himself, “You’re doing so well”. 

Your fingernails dug into the sensitive skin of Tony’s thighs, increasing the pleasure. Your eyes threatened to leak tears. Your throat was even more sore than your behind but still you tried your best to swirl your tongue against the smooth underside of his length. Without warning Tony started to move your head again and soon the room was filled with the obscene noise of Tony fucking your throat. String of curse words floated freely from Tony’s lips, his eyes half-lidded as he relished in the sinful pleasure he took from your mouth. You could do nothing else but sit and let your throat be abused, (not that you didn’t enjoy it). You hummed and moaned as he guided your head up and down his cock, the vibrations delicious against him. A hand slithered down Tony’s thigh to cup his balls, you rolled them faintly loving the way Tony’s moans grew louder. His thrusts started to grown more vicious until he finally pulled out of your mouth with a pop, a trail of saliva dribbled down your chin as you grinned up at Tony. You were even more of a mess than before with your hair all wild and spit smeared across your cheeks.

Tony took a minute to wait for his conscientious to return to his body, “Damn baby, I almost didn’t last”, he took your arm amiably pulling you up onto the bed next to him, “Almost didn’t get to fuck that sweet little pussy of yours”. 

He pushed you down so you were lying in front of him, you hair fanned out around you as you watched him fervently. Quickly Tony discarded his white dress shirt throwing it onto the floor, the bed bounced as he maneuvered he way into the middle of the bed. “God look at you, you’re so beautiful angel”, Tony complimented you. He pulled on your ankles to bring you closer to him, “Can’t wait to fuck you baby girl but first I’ve gotta get a quick taste. Do you want that baby?”. Tony pushed your legs open so he could sit in the middle, he leaned down until he was hovering over your barely clothed pussy. “Please”, you mewled, trying not to buck your hips up to his mouth. He raised a bushy eyebrow as he pulled the fabric of your thong to the side, his breath hot against your core making you crave attention. “Please, daddy”, you begged. He smirked before diving his face between your legs. His beard scratched the tender skin of your inside thighs, he licked a line up your slit until he reached your clit which he sucked into his mouth, “Oh Tony!”, you droned, unable to keep your hips from moving, your hands were gripping the bed sheets, Tony adored the sight in front of him and how only he had the power to make you come this undone. There was a coil tightening in the pit of your stomach as he plunged a finger into your pussy. Tony was looked on knowingly, waiting for the signs that you were about to orgasm. Your breathing sped up, your back involuntarily arched and just as you were about to explode Tony removed himself from you.

Your brow furrowed. Your head raised and you wanted to scold him but he opened his mouth first, “You’re gonna cum around my cock princess, okay?”, his beard glistened in the candlelight from your juices, “You’re so wet baby girl, look at what you’re doing to me”, Tony leaned back on his haunches, he tapped his cock against your thigh as he fisted it. He was impossibly hard. “Are you ready princess?”. You whined, “Please daddy, I need you”. 

“Always the good girl aren’t you (Y/N)?”, he purred coming to rest his body between your spread thighs, cock in hand he rubbed it up and down you slit a few times making sure to spread your wetness. He poked the tip of his cock into your opening. He pushed at an achingly slow pace, relishing in the feeling of how easy he slipped into you. With a roll of his hips he was fully sheathed inside you, he cursed in delight, “You’re so fucking tight”. Thrusting a few more times Tony changed the position of your legs so that one was slung over his shoulder and the other was wrapped securely around his waist. The change allowed him to hit deeper spots inside of you, any moans that came leaking out of your mouth were quickly swallowed by Tony as his lips attacked yours furiously.  The room smelt like sweat, the air was thick with arousal, the bed squeaked comically with each precise thrust from Tony. He pulled away long enough for you to yelp, “Oh god Tony, harder daddy please!”. He pressed one last kiss to your lips before he moved to suck on your neck, as he started to lick and suck he started to pound ungodly fast into you, “Oh fuck!”. Your arms tangled around his neck, pulling on his hair.

When he was satisfied with the amount of purple marks he’d left, he raised your other leg onto his shoulders so that your knees where now pressed into your chest. Then he snaked his hands to your neck before he started to pound you at an ungodly rate, gradually increasing the pressure on your airways. “You look so pretty with my hands around your throat”, he teased, tenderly placing his forehead against yours. You were coming undone beneath him. With each thrust of his pelvis he was tickling spots inside you which you didn’t even know existed. You were seeing stars, babbling nonsense to the man fucking you like there was no tomorrow. His grip became so tight that you were starting to see little black dots cloud your vision, “Are you gonna cum for me princess?”, Tony was beside your ear, hot and encouraging. “Yes!”, your answer was stuttered. He tightened his grip just a little bit more, “Then cum for me baby”. A few more thrusts from Tony and the gates of heaven opened; your back arched until your chest was rubbing against Tony’s, the moans emitting from your mouth were downright pornographic only serving to fuel Tony’s lust. You could feel the heat leaking out of you, you were unable to come down from your high as his vigorous thrusts never let up.

The fluttering of your walls around his cock was starting to become too much for him. Tony’s groans started to match the sloppiness of thrusts. He was plunging further and further into you, changing his pace from rough and fast, to slow and deep. He placed his forehead on yours again muttering incoherent sweetness until finally he pulled back. Tony jerked his cock a few more times, his eyes shut  out of the sheer bliss he could feel approaching before he finally shot his load all over your thigh. 

Sweat was beaded on his chest reflecting in the light as he finally came around, he stilled his breath to match the calming speed of yours, he cheekily smiled down at you, “Fuck I missed you (Y/N)”.

[marvelhero-fics]

Peter!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: A bunch of criminals decide Tony Stark would pay them a lot of money to get his daughter back so they try to kidnap her, little did they know Ironman and Spider-Man would come to the rescue 

A/N: I’m so sorry I haven't posted in so long!!!! This was a super quick blurb just off the top of my head, pretty much unedited, sorry about that! I’ve got a lot more fics on the way

Word Count: 1,470

Warning: swearing, maybe a little violence?

The carpark was so empty you could hear the clatter of your hard-bottomed shoes against the cement. It was illuminated very clearly with pale blue lighting, whilst darkness surrounded the exterior. It was just after 9:00pm. You were making your way to your chauffeured car just outside of the Stark building. You’d been spending most nights after high school at one of your dad’s labs close to school to help bump up your science grades, and plus make some extra money. No matter how rich your parents were, they always made you work for what you had. You sighed slightly at the impending long car ride back to the Avengers compound where you currently resided with your parents. 

You were stopped slightly in your tracks when two men emerged out of a navy blue car, about 10 ft in front of you. You really tried to think nothing of it, but being a young, small, female who wouldn’t be able to protect yourself against a large man, let alone two, fear bubbled up inside you slightly. You decided to detour slightly, trying to get to a different exit to avoid these men. Another man in similar robber-like black clothing appeared slightly too near to you for your comfort. Your lips pursed together as you could feel your heartbeat radiating throughout your entire body due to how fast it was pumping. 

A slight pang of courage/curiosity hit you to pull your gaze up from the dirty concrete floor to look at your surroundings. There was a lot more than 3 men around you, it was definitely closer to about 15. You came to a complete stop in your tracks, your breath becoming uneven and panicked as the worst thoughts flooded your mind. 

“How do you know it’s her?” One of them mumbled to another, his eyes travelling up and down your figure as you clutched your bag closer to your body. 

“It’s definitely her.” The other replied, a devilish smile creeping upon his lips. He strutted towards you, his frame seemed to be about twice the size of yours. A sudden wave of quick thinking hit you in your moment of shock, you slowly and secretly moved your right hand over to your left wrist. Your father always made you wear an emergency bracelet. It was an inconspicuous, silver bracelet that hugged your wrist tightly with a small button on it that would alert your father of an emergency. He made sure to explain that it wasn’t an ‘I forgot my purse’ emergency or an ‘I left my homework at home’ emergency. It was only if you were in imminent danger. And this definitely felt like the time to use it.

The man was so close to your frame that you could smell his slightly ‘off’ body oder. His face came close to yours to take a deeper look at your features. You looked away and squeezed your eyes shut in attempts to stop your eyes from welling up. 

“Miss Stark, it’s so nice to meet you.” His voice was raspier and lower as you heard it clearly, almost as if he has gravel stuck in his throat. 

“I’m- my name isn't Stark.” You lied through gritted teeth, your breath so panicked you almost couldn't speak.

“Oh sweetheart, you don't need to bother with that. I know exactly who you are.” He had an almost laughter as he spoke this time, his breath smelling of alcohol. Suddenly, his hand grabbed your upper arm, tugging at it to pull you along with him. “Do you know how much your father would pay for you? We’re gonna be fucking rich boys!” He added, in attempts to hype up the gang around him. Part of you wanted to fight back, a large part of you wanted too. But you simply knew you wouldn't make it out of this fighting. This man by himself could take you down, not mentioning the other 14-or-so men around you. 

“Hey! I don't think she’s consenting to that buddy.” A familiar Queens accent rang through your ears. You, along with the men around you, turned your heads to see Peter in his classic Spider-Man costume standing atop of one of the cars. 

A few of the men huffed, making a few comments about ‘that Spider-Man dude from YouTube’. Peter jumped down from the car, causing some of the men to pull pistols out the back of their trousers. You gasped out in horror, your lungs feeling like they were being viciously squeezed as you watched your boyfriend contemplate his next move, while still struggling against the man holding you. You watched as Peter expertly used his webs to pull weapons from the men around you while also dodging bullets in the process. He tried his best to web them to pillars or cars around the carpark to take them out of the action, but he was clearly experiencing some difficulty with the amount of men surrounding him. 

The noise of a burst of energy hit your ears, causing you to flinch. You looked up to see that all-too-famous red and gold suit crushing men beneath it. The weight forcing down your shoulders seemed to lighten up slightly as your father began fighting alongside Peter. Many of the guys began yelling about Ironman in horror, stating that they needed to ‘get the fuck outta here’. 

Tony mainly used his blasters to get men to the floor so Peter was able to web them down. You watched your fathers movements, they weren't that of someone who was planning and strategising his attacks, they were pure anger. Which seemingly made them a lot more effective, and a lot more deadly.

“Kid, what the hell are you doing here?” Tony questioned Peter, his voice accentuated through the mask.  

“Just helping out!” Peter swiftly dodged an incoming punch, “being your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man!” He added, sending another man down to the floor with a thundering cracking noise, God, you didn't want to know where it came from. 

You felt the grip on your arm get exponentially tighter as the man began pulling you away in a rushed, and clearly frightened manoeuvre. You’d gained some courage amongst all the fighting and began trying to bat this mans hand away, while trying to pry your arm from his clutch. It seemingly took him no effort to pull your body along. “Peter!” You yelled out in a frenzy, immediately regretting that decision. Firstly, these men shouldn't know Spider-Man’s name, and secondly, your dad didn't know that you knew Peter was Spider-Man.

In a matter of seconds, Peter was swiftly swinging in to send a harsh kick to the mans head. His grip left your arm and he fell down to the floor. With a few more rushed attacks and webs, Peter had officially rendered this man useless.

“Wait, Peter?!” Your father exclaimed in shock, turning to face you while sending a small rocket into a car sitting directly behind some of the assailants. A burst of flames hit the roof of the carpark building along with some shocking, frightful shrieks. 

“Oh shit...” Peter said under his breath, facing you. It felt strange looking at the mask eyes instead of Peter’s actual eyes.

“We’re having a very long conversation when we get home Miss (Y/N) Stark!” Your dad hollered out, sending the last of the men into a nearby pillar. Without hesitation Ironman was flying towards you, he grabbed you tightly. “Let’s go Pete.” Tony stated, flying out of the parking building far too quickly for your liking. Within minutes you had all landed just outside one of Tony’s many houses, this one residing in Midtown Manhattan. 

You realised you were essentially holding your breath the entire way, letting out a loud sigh as your feet finally hit the ground. Peter ripped his mask off his head, showing off his frightened expression and disheveled hair. Seeing Peter’s face brought out every emotion you had bottled up. Your body fell immediately into his arms, hugging him tighter than you thought physically possible. He held your body close, his heat radiating onto you. You sunk your head into his shoulder and began crying, due to the fact that you just really didn't know what else to do. 

You heard the movement of the Ironman suit behind you. It opened to reveal a frightened, but relieved looking Tony. His hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you away from Peter into his arms. You clung onto your father for dear life. Tony clearly reciprocating. His placed a huge kiss on your forehead, his hand tightly holding your head close to his body. “Thank you, dad.” You whispered through tears.

“I’m never going to let anything happen to you darling.” 

[missbugaboo]

That Other Guy (5)

“Why does it matter so much to you? What’s so terrible about Adrien Agreste that you can’t stand him as your competition – even though it changes absolutely nothing for you? What in magic’s name makes him such a hateful rival?” Or, Chat Noir finally learns who Ladybug’s dream guy is, but somehow, he’s not pleased at all. For more reasons than one.

LadyNoir, Adrienette.

fanfiction.net / AO3

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Chapter 5: Carefull What You Wish For

Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light.

It was well past four when Adrien finally granted himself the permission to call it a night, at long last realising that even after the horrors of the hours that preceded his decision he still deserved the minimum amount of sleep he still could get.

Especially when there was a photo shoot awaiting him so early in the morning.

He rose from his chair then, with a grunt that resulted from more than the soreness of his body, and walked over to his bed, dragging his feet as if the few quarters he'd spent by his desk had added decades to his young age. Again, there was more to it than stiffness, but that he conveniently ignored.

He flopped onto the mattress and dived under the duvet in one swift motion, foregoing the idea of a shower that he still would've been obliged to take in the morning, limiting his preparation for sleep to kicking off his shoes (something he'd done with perfect ease on his way towards the bed) and shrugging off the shirt (which he had done right after). He was dead on his feet, and with a headache that seemed to grow with every passing second; his thoughts a tangled mess and his conscience battered and searing.

All he wanted now was to sleep. To fall into oblivion, even if for a little while, even if he knew it would all rush back to him the moment he was up.

Of course he wasn't getting any of it.

So he shut his eyes tight and attempted not to think until sleepiness took over him. When that didn't work (to no one's surprise), he tried to think of something else, counting sheep and evening his breathing, visualising whatever images he could summon that would not remind him of this current ordeal.

He thought of his mother and father, of the happy times when they had all been together. He did his best to remember the colours of her clothes and the scent of her perfumes as well as the gentle smile on his father's face, one he hadn't seen for so long. It was painful in a way, but soothing nonetheless; and certainly far easier to deal with than the spotted pattern that would have taken over his imagination had he not made sure it was otherwise occupied.

And so it would have been, with the vision of his family successfully blocking that of his partner, the sadness in his father's eyes still easier to bear than the sight of tear's on Ladybug's cheeks.

If only his growing sleepiness hadn't meant lowering his guard.

It did, however; and the closer Adrien was to falling asleep, the more willing he was to succumb to the numbness, the greater became the risk of letting the unwanted thoughts wander into his mind and thus render the entire plan useless. Far too exhausted at this point, he ignored the first signs, stubbornly believing that thinking of his missing mother would be enough to keep him serene. He allowed the images of Miss Bustier to show itself and even smiled weakly at the apparition. He let Max and Kim join her, together with Rose, Juleka, Nathaniel and Mark.

He wasn't surprised or annoyed by the thought of Chloe, his first, and for years, only friend, nor by the fact that Sabrina appeared next to her soon. And he could only wonder why it had taken him so long to add Nino and Alya into the cheerful mix.

Focused on the bright side, he didn't think that in his class there was someone he didn't want to think of.

The honest, considerate classmate.

Marinette.

"Oh, for Heavens' sake!" he growled with exasperation, all the more annoyed when he'd realised that the image he'd vowed not to summon had not only found its way to his mind regardless of his endeavours, but had also managed to chase away all traces of sleepiness quite successfully. His irritation only continued to grow when he pondered over it, no longer able to block the unwanted thoughts from entering his brain.

In fact, he wasn't even sure if his did want to block them.

"Hell yes, I do," he answered his own assessment, turning onto his side rapidly and covering his head with a pillow, as if that simple barrier could really shelter him from the attacks of his own unruly imagination. "I've spent enough nights thinking about her when I should have stopped after the first time she told me to move on. No good came from it then, and no good will come from it now. And don't you dare to say anything, Plagg."

He grit his teeth and shut his eyes, while his fingers tightened their grip on the the pillow still pressed against his head. He felt - knew - believed that he was right, that no matter what his stupid heart was trying to tell him, there really was no use thinking about his partner right now.

Not when he was so certain that he was the last thing on her mind.

Now, the Adrien who woke up again a few hours later was not the same who'd gone to bed.

The latter was confused and weary, haunted by the enormous feeling of guilt that could by no means be called appropriate even when it came to the worst of what he called his crimes; lost and hurting, he could not find it in himself to look at the situation impartially or even accept the compassion offered by Plagg, simply because he didn't think he was worthy of it.

The former, as puzzled and unhappy as he still was, hardly matched the description, though.

He felt less; he understood more.

He hoped he did, anyway. The very idea of having to re-organise his thinking as well as admitting that he had been, yet again, wrong was repulsive, so much that he could swear it caused him to feel physically sick. Besides, after the amount of time he'd spent pondering over the subject, he couldn't have been far from the so-called objective truth.

He just couldn’t.

He threw the covers away, and sat up rapidly, grimacing at his ill-conceived decision to sleep in his clothes, a decision that had resulted directly in the feeling of a sweaty t-shirt and creased trousers which surely were way too tight to fall into the category of potential pyjamas. The sour expression only hardened when he felt his head spin; the realisation that the sudden feeling was nothing but a natural reaction to his rapture motion did nothing to improve his mood in any way.

He got up and wandered towards the bathroom, purposefully ignoring the headache that quickly replaced the earlier feeling of dizziness, or maybe just came to the surface after the latter had subsided. He needed a shower; and he hoped that it would help with more than the sweatiness of his hair and skin.

Goodness gracious, was he exhausted.

"I hate morning shoots," he muttered angrily, as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, the vexation downright steaming from him. "I hate never getting to sleep in because of them, I hate missing school whenever they send me to one. And I hate that they've been so many of them recently."

With another grunt, he stepped into the shower tray, and turned the tap, half expecting to find the water gone, or icy-cold at best, for after all, it was exactly the kind of day when malfunctions of this sort usually happened to him.

I hate this job.

Well, that wasn't true and he knew it. Sure, a career in the fashion industry, much less as a model, had never really been a part of his long-term plans, and not only because he'd been hoping to start anew somewhere where his father's influence wasn't so overwhelmingly powerful. He still dreamed of finding work in a field that would genuinely interest him, of course... but even though he had no say in becoming the number one model for the Gabriel brand, he had never gone as far as to say he hated it.

It was boring and came in a way; it had made him have to deal with popularity he'd been neither ready or willing to face when he'd first become known and which, for some reason, did not appear to be fading with the passage of time, like he'd once hoped it would. It meant being bossed around even more, not only by Nathalie or his father but by the (numerous) photographers, dressers and make-up artists as well.

To him, it had never been much fun - and yet, he had never failed to find at least some bright aspects of it.

Until today, that is. There was nothing positive about today.

He was out of the shower in a record time, despite - or perhaps, because of - the tremendous temptation of staying in there and letting the hot streams of water numb the throbbing pain he still hadn't got rid of. He did find the idea alluring, and even believed for a second that it could help; until he remembered how little the two full hours of sleep had done for him in that regard.

It was then that Adrien noticed the lack of Plagg's presence around him and wondered idly where the tiny creature might be. A little more awake than he'd been a quarter before, he crossed the threshold of his bedroom again and looked around and, when that didn't give him the result he wanted, he cleared his throat and waited for a response.

However, none came.

"Plagg?" he asked after a while, forcing himself to sound casually and thus not give the kwami any more reasons to pick up on his behaviour than what he already had. He was met with a wall of silence once again and this time, it made his blood run a little cold.

Easy there, Agreste, he chided himself impatiently. Just because I acted like a fool last night doesn't mean Plagg should too, does it? He's here, somewhere. Here, in this room.

In this room, asleep or breakfasting, and not gone to contact Ladybug and break it to her what an idiot his Chosen was. Not that she needed Plagg's record to know that.

Still, the silence continued to ring in his ears, to the point it became deafening. Adrien called for Plagg again, and then once more after that, simultaneously walking from one cupboard to another and peeking inside in his search of his friend.

Nothing.

He found nothing.

He bit his lip nervously, taking yet another look around and praying desperately that he wouldn't loose his cool.

Plagg wouldn't have... left him, right?

"Come on, Plagg, this isn't funny," he tried again. "And it's not the right time for joking around, either, even if the jokes were actually good. So, would you please act like the wise being you're supposed to be for once and come out before Nathalie walks in and find me searching for you? I really don't feel like having to explain that to her too, on top of all things."

Again, his plea was not to be answered.

This is a nightmare, he thought to himself, coming to the conclusion that his father's assistant really might knock on his door any second and that he should at least make sure she didn't nail him talking to himself, and of his double life no less. It must be, or else I've screwed up even more than I thought and there is nothing I can do about it. If he's gone to her... If he told her that I'd figured out her identity, then I'm done for. Even if she could somehow forgive me my outburst yesterday, she won't hold back from taking the miraculous away from me now that I've broken the one rule she was so hell bent to keep. Even if it was her fault that I did.

Her fault.

Was it, really?

"It was," he droned, momentarily forgetting the resolution he had only just made. "I might have provoked her, involuntarily, but she still was the one who told me all the information I needed for figuring it out. I stopped asking for it ages ago, right? She was the one who said too much and now -"

He trailed off, as a feeling of a familiar presence came over him, and turned around abruptly, as if willing to nail the alleged culprit in the act (which honestly, he did). He wasn't disappointment in his discovery; even if he was surprised to see Plagg this close to his face.

Automatically, he took a step back, and gasped.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Plagg greeted him indifferently, as if he hadn't been the reason for Adrien's frantic search.

The boy grimaced at him.

"You're here."

Plagg raised an eyebrow, amused. "Of course I'm here. Where else should I be?"

"I mean," Adrien repeated coldly, "that you are here now. That you're back."

"Back from where, kid?"

"That's exactly what I'd like to know."

Plagg didn't answer him directly, save for the very telling roll of his eyes and a weary sigh that escaped his tiny lips, together with an indistinct mutter in a language Adrien had never heard before. The misplaced behaviour only made his vexation grow, allowing the anger once again take place of the previous unrest and worry.

"Plagg? Tell me where you went last night."

"Why would you think I've gone anywhere, huh?" the kwami retorted loftily, clearly offended by the accusation; if Adrien had been in a slightly better mood right now, he might've felt guilty about jumping to conclusions so fast and even apologised his friend for it.

Unfortunately for both, he could hardly imagine being in a worse mood than the one he was currently in.

"You weren't here when I woke up and I couldn't find you after I'd got dressed, either," he responded mercilessly. "You are always hovering around me in the mornings, and I know for a fact that you'd never miss a chance to mess with me whenever I'm being a little more emotional than usual; and yet, I spent the morning talking to myself with no sly remarks disrupting it, when I'm sure you'd find something say about every single thought I'd voiced. And when I actually looked around, you weren't there."

"What if I decided to give you some space, huh?" Plagg refuted easily. "I'm not that unfeeling, and I'd say you of all people should know that. After all, I didn't really lecture you last night, did I? I know when to shut up, kid. So if you could stop charging me and just -"

"Where. Were. You?"

Again, Plagg refrained from giving his answer, deciding to glare at Adrien instead, in the belief that the usually complaint boy would finally feel some of the remorse he should've felt and give up his questioning. It might not have been the noblest move to make, but Plagg honestly believed it was the right one in this context.

If only Adrien hadn't picked today to be a stubborn, ruthless, unwavering player for once.

"Fine!" the little creature exclaimed at last, with another roll of his eyes. "I might have gone out for a bit. You know, to get some fresh air. You can hardly blame me for wanting a little break after everything I had to deal with yesterday."

"I think you misunderstood my question. I already know that you did go out. I want to know where to and why."

Plagg frowned and shrugged his arms. "Here and there. I didn't go far, if that's what you're afraid of."

"I don't know, honestly. I wouldn't say that the Dupain-Cheng bakery is exactly close, is it?"

Now he had Plagg's attention, and no mistake. He was not going to lose it.

"So you did go there," he mused with a sardonic grin, but in a voice that screamed of sadness. "You went to talk to her, to discuss my case and learn what to do next."

He paused, a painful lump rising in his throat and a new set off tears burning at the back of his eyes. He gritted his teeth and made sure to look squarely at Plagg when he concluded:

"You... you went to see Ladybug."

The fresh recollection of his Lady, together with the still unsettled knowledge of her and Marinette being one and the same person made his stomach twist in a tight knot, quite successfully ruining his attempt to remain collected and, at least in some way, appear intimidating to Plagg. The painful emotions came over him and he was forced to turn away before his companion could see the change of expression that was bound to come next.

The last thing he needed was for Plagg to go all caring and pitiful again.

He didn't even consider the scenario in which the kwami saw right through his defences and still took the opposite path to what Adrien had just predicted.

And yet, it was exactly what happened.

"Alright, so first of all, you must stop succumbing to the first supposition that comes to your mind whenever something goes wrong. Seriously, it's dangerous. And harmful. Not to mention, plain stupid, too," Plagg said after a while; it was his turn to sound stern. "It makes you believe the most pessimistic version of reality and lose sight of all other options, even when there are some. Second, it's a good thing that I already know how dumb you can be, otherwise I'd be more than just annoyed with how easily you accused me of abusing your trust in such a way. I didn't."

Adrien glanced at him, still sceptical about the explanation.

"You didn't visit Marinette?" he asked incredulously.

"Look, just because I was in Pigtail's bedroom does not mean I was visiting her," Plagg answered evenly. "I went to see Tikki and no one else. Your Marinette was fast asleep for the entire time I was there, not that I would have said anything to her if she hadn't been. So no need to panic, okay?"

Once again, Adrien found himself turning away, his movement more of a reflex than a conscious action.

"She's not my Marinette," was all he could muster to say.

Again, Plagg had nothing left to do but sigh.

"I get it that you're angry. And sad. And more than a little confused, I bet," he offered after a moment, when he'd realised that Adrien was not going to add anything more. "It's hardly the ideal way to learn your partner's identity, with all the shouting and quarrelling you'd done right before. The fact that she still has no idea who you are under the mask doesn't help the matter either, and don't even get me started about that darn love square you two had got yourself into. But you know what? It doesn't make you any less of a fool."

The last line made Adrien look up for a second, only to lower his gaze immediately after; he opened his mouth to respond, and yet, no sound came out.

Plagg only shook his head.

"Listen, Adrien. I've seen my share of Cats Noir and their Ladybugs as well, and even though there certainly were pairs whose relationship was much simpler - sometimes because they didn't know each other in their private life, or because they simply were not interested in one another in general - I could easily name a few for whom the situation was hell of a lot harder. You wouldn't believe how much so.

"Now, you're obviously hurt, and shocked, and no one can blame you for it. But kid, I've been there when a Cat Noir figured out Ladybug's identity at a wrong time and it cost him his life. Then there was a case when another Cat did, and it cost hers. Neither of them wanted to learn it. You did."

"I -"

"You did," Plagg repeated. "Ever since you two met, you've been going on about how she won't let you know her identity, showering me with arguments as for why you should share the secret. Last night you got your wish and it scared you; but can you honestly say you wish you didn't know?"

Adrien smiled wryly. "Well, considering how much hardship it caused for just one night, I can. I wish I hadn't learnt anything she told me yesterday."

"Kid, you've finally figured out who your dream girl is, something you've been dreaming about for years. You also learnt that she is genuinely in love with you - better, that she had been for all this time. That the only reason why she was so adamant about rejecting you was because she chose the other side of you. And if that's not enough, she's also the girl you've considered a good friend for a very long time. You should be thrilled."

There was no response on Adrien's part.

No witty comment, no try to refute the argument.

No words.

Until...

"Perhaps," he whispered unexpectedly. "Perhaps I could be."

"Could be?"

"Yeah. I could be thrilled to know who she is. If only it was someone else under that mask."

He turned on his heel and set off towards his desk, intent to gather his belongings and leave the cursed room before Nathalie really did come to get him. The fact that she still hadn't come could only be an inclination how early it still was and yet, he suddenly felt like he had no time to spare before he suffocated.

His loyal companion watched after him, frozen in shock.

"You've learnt that Ladybug is Marinette and you're disappointed?!"

Adrien, who had just finished packing, slung his bag over his shoulder and glared.

"Yes. I am. You can figure out why yourself or contact Tikki for clues, for all I care. But either way, I'm done talking about it."

In a few long strides, he was out of the room, leaving Plagg all to himself.

It was all so wrong.

[unpack-my-heart]

Unpack My Heart With Words - Updated

New chapter of my Hamlet/Theatre Reddie AU.

It’s on AO3 HERE or I’ve posted it under the cut. 

preview:

‘Are you kidding me – YOU’RE my Hamlet? She’s sent me YOU? I swear to God – Right. Well. Get inside – no, not THAT door, the door where – just follow me’.

Richie waits for a beat, watching Eddie march away with his scarf trailing behind him, gauzy fabric reaching out to Richie with invisible arms. Eventually, Richie’s feet co-operate with the signals screaming in his brain to go! go! go!, and he follows Eddie, who had disappeared through a small side-door marked ‘private’. Richie takes a deep breath, before he pushes the door open and steps inside, breaching the dark underbelly of the RSC.

@violetreddie @constantreaderfool @xandertheundead

‘Are you kidding me – YOU’RE my Hamlet? She’s sent me YOU? I swear to God – Right. Well. Get inside – no, not THAT door, the door where – just follow me’.

Richie waits for a beat, watching Eddie march away with his scarf trailing behind him, gauzy fabric reaching out to Richie with invisible arms. Eventually, Richie’s feet co-operate with the signals screaming in his brain to go! go! go!, and he follows Eddie, who had disappeared through a small side-door marked ‘private’. Richie takes a deep breath, before he pushes the door open and steps inside, breaching the dark underbelly of the RSC.

Richie follows Eddie through a series of corridors, winding this way and that, past small dressing rooms, large open spaces with chairs strewn haphazardly around. People pass them, nodding at Eddie and staring at Richie with blank, expressionless looks. Richie keeps his gaze trained to the shocking white of Eddie’s sneakers, a stark contrast against the deep, velvety black of the rest of his outfit. Eddie is talking on the phone, the tinny voice of the other person filtering out into the air, but not loud enough that Richie can hear what they’re saying. He tries not to listen to what Eddie is saying, feeling invasive, but he can’t persuade his ears to disengage.

“No, I had no idea you’d cast him … I suppose he was always very good when we were at RADA together … I told you that! You knew I went to RADA with him … Well you know now … Yes, he’s that Richie … I have no idea … I have to go, thank you again for this simply marvellous surprise”

Eddie eventually pushes his way through a set of large double doors, and Richie follows him through into a large classroom. One of the walls is mirrored, and there are nine other people staring over at him. He instantly recognises one of them.

Watching Eddie march over to the desk, and start typing furiously, Richie makes a beeline for where Stan is standing.

“Stanley the Manley!”

“Oh Jesus Christ, it’s you”

Richie smacks Stan’s arm lightly.

“That’s hardly an appropriate greeting for your best friend now, is it”

“Richie, I haven’t seen you since we graduated”

“Semantics, semantics” Richie dismisses, with a wave of his hand.

It was true. He hasn’t seen Stan since he graduated fourteen years ago. Even then, Richie had grown more and more distant from everyone after Eddie had left. He put his head down, poured his heart and soul into everything he did, graduated, and never looked back. His RADA years were simultaneously the best and worst years of his life thus far, and it exhausted Richie to think about them. It had, however, meant that he’d lost touch with Stan. Stan had tried, send him texts and emails and even rang him once a month for two years, but that, like all things, eventually stopped. Seeing Stan now, stood in front of him, with fine lines around his eyes and flecks of grey mottling his ashy blonde hair, tugged painfully at Richie’s heart.

“I’m sorry, you know”

“I know you are, Rich. I get it, I was just collateral damage” Stan dead-panned, the monotone voice contrasted happily with the smile in his eyes.

Before Richie could reply, he was interrupted by the clapping of hands.

“So now that the lead has so kindly deigned us all with his presence, we can begin. You should have got the email with the cast list, so perhaps some of you are familiar with each other. My name is Edward Kaspbrak and I’m directing this production, as you all well know. You can call me Eddie, though. We’ll start by reading through act one scenes four and five, the first interaction between Hamlet and the ghost of Old King Hamlet, so those of you who aren’t needed can excuse yourselves to one of the other rehearsal rooms to read through act one scene one to three together. Hamlet, Horatio and Marcellus, over here” Eddie instructed, pointing to a door which presumably lead to another rehearsal space, before beckoning to Richie, Stan and an attractive, blonde-haired man steps forward, presumably this production’s Marcellus.

Everyone else filters out of the room in near total silence, leaving Richie, Stan and the man playing Marcellus staring dumbly at each other, unsure of what to do.

“Hang on, who’s playing the ghost?” Richie called out, causing Eddie’s head to snap up from where it was buried in an old beaten up copy of Hamlet, his hands leafing impatiently through the yellowing pages.

“Pardon?”

“The Ghost, who is playing him?”

Eddie blinks.

“It hasn’t been cast yet”

“How the hell are we supposed to block this, then? Am I supposed to talk to the air? Act as if the air is talking to me? C’mon, Eddie, that’s a bit ridiculous” Richie asks, gesticulating wildly.

“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice talking to yourself”

As soon as he says it, Eddie’s face shifts, the perfectly schooled apathy replaced by something that looks almost pained, something that almost resembles regret, before its chased away, and the apathy returns.

“Can we at least call one of the others in and have them read it for now?” Richie tries, trying to ensure that his voice doesn’t betray his frustration and start to waver.

“I’ll read it, I suppose, if you’re going to make such a fuss about it”

With that, Eddie throws the book onto a nearby chair, where it lands closed with a slapping sound. Richie sends a sideways glance at Stan, who is staring at both of them with wide, amused eyes.

Marcellus is standing on the other side of the room, looking equal parts confused and terrified.

Watching Eddie unwind his scarf and set it neatly on the nearest table, Richie is thrown backwards in time, as the Eddie standing before him, dressed in black dress pants and a black shirt, morphs into the Eddie he had seen for the first time in rehearsal room 3. His Lear.

They start reading through Act I Scene IV, which goes fairly well. Eddie only shouts at Richie once, when he gets a line wrong.

“Ministers of grace and Angels –“

“Wrong!”

“Pardon?”

“It’s ‘Angels and Ministers of Grace –“

“Oh for fucks sake” Richie mutters under his breath.

Surprisingly, he’s not frustrated at Eddie. In all fairness, he did get the line wrong. What surprises him is the embarrassment that claws at his stomach. He’s embarrassed. He’s standing in front of the love of his life – the boy that twisted him up and turned his whole life upside down nearly fifteen years ago – and he’s getting lines wrong, and he’s embarrassed.

“Try it again” comes Eddie’s reply, and Richie looks up at him tentatively, expecting to be met with glares and scorn, but Eddie’s face is blank. He’s just looking at Richie, prompting him, willing him to continue. No malice, but no soothing smile, either. Richie tries to remember what Eddie looked like when he smiled, when he was tucked under Richie’s armpit when they were watching movies in Richie’s shitty old flat.

Richie tried again, and got it right.

They finish act one scene four, and move straight onto act one scene five. The ghost speaks to Hamlet in this scene, which means Eddie will be speaking to Richie, pleading with him to ‘remember me!’.

Richie never forgot him.

“Where wilt thou lead me? Speak; I’ll go no further” Richie starts.

“Mark me”

“I will”

“My hour is almost come, when I to sulphurous and tormenting flames, must render up myself”

As they progress through the scene, Richie is stunned to realise that Eddie is awful. His delivery is wooden, his voice is monotone, emotionless, as if he doesn’t care, as if he’d rather be anywhere else, totally apathetic to Richie’s need for a good performance to respond to, to bounce off of.

“Adieu, Adieu Hamlet, Remember – –“

“Have you forgotten how to do it, Eds?” Richie interrupts, and it spills out of his mouth with more venom than he’d intended.

“We didn’t all have the luxury of finishing our acting degrees, Richard” Eddie snaps, the apathy on his face gone entirely.

He looks hurt, the same expression he’d been wearing when he’d told Richie he loved him for the very last time at the dining table, before he’d walked out of the door, and out of Richie’s life, nearly fifteen years ago.

Richie doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. They finish reading through the scene. Eddie’s performance doesn’t improve, if anything, it gets worse. Every ‘Swear it!’ delivered with indifference. Tiny verbal bullets that sting every time they hit Richie’s ears. Richie can’t help but recall Eddie’s Lear, powerful and commanding, a harsh juxtaposition to this damp squib of an old King Hamlet.

Almost immediately after Richie had uttered the last line of the scene, Eddie marches over to the door that the other cast members had left through, and disappears. He returns seconds later, accompanied by the rest of the cast.

“We’ll start looking over act one scene two, now. We’ll go back to act one when the whole cast is here, which will be sometime next week. I want to think about staging for scene two, and how we’ll have Claudius and Gertrude situated in relation to Hamlet, I think I’d like you, Ben, over here, and Bill if you can – –“

“Don’t you think we should all introduce ourselves?” Richie interrupts, for a second time.

Eddie just stares at him, eyebrow raised. A challenge. Continue, if you dare.

“I just think we should get to know each other, you know, so we all know where we’ve come from, who we are, what our backgrounds are. I’ll start, so, uh, sup, my dudes, the name’s Richie, and I’ve just come off tour with – –“

“I hardly think that’s relevant” Eddie scoffs, “If you want to spend the precious time we have together making friends, by all means, be my guest, but you’ll be doing it outside of my rehearsal space”

“I just thought it might help improve the chemistry between our characters”

“Do you really think a friendly atmosphere is appropriate for the play in question, Richard?”

“… I mean, I just –“

Richie meets Eddie’s eyes.

“I guess not”

The rest of the rehearsal goes okay. Richie tries not to let it sting too much when Eddie places his hands on Ben’s stomach, above his diaphragm, to help him project his voice, and when he laughs at Mike twirling around the stage In the first mock-up of his Ophelia costume. Richie tries his best to draw Eddie out of his shell, to draw Eddie back to him, repeating jokes that he knows Eddie would have laughed at – did laugh at in the past– but he doesn’t. Their interactions remain cold, clinical and professional.

At the end of the day, the main cast are knackered, but they decide to go to the pub to decompress and get to know each other a bit better. The only members of the cast that make their excuses are the actors playing Polonius, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Shrugging on his coat, Ben shouts out an invitation to Eddie to join them.

“Hey, Eddie! We’re all going to the pub. D’ya fancy it?”

“Uh…”, Eddie replies, eyes flicking over each of the people stood in front of him, before his gaze lands on Richie. Their eyes meet, and do not waver.

“No thanks” Eddie delivers straight to Richie, words that bore straight into the pit of Richie’s stomach. Eddie looks away from Richie, and his tone shifts to something light hearted, the voice Richie had grown to love all those years ago. “I’ve got a lot of preparation to do for tomorrow, we’ve still got a lot to do before we can move onto scene three. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

With that, Eddie leaves the door with a small wave.

“Ah, yes, now we can get to know each other ‘outside of the rehearsal space’. I mean, what the hell was that all about?” Mike asks, holding onto Stan’s shoulder as he tries to escape the folds of fabric keeping him hostage.

“I know” Stan replies, simply, a wicked glint in his eye.

“Don’t!” Richie shouts before he can stop himself.

Everyone looks at him expectantly.

“Uh… I just need to get my coat” Richie mumbles, before slinking into the back cupboard. He smacks his forehead against the wall with a thump, closes his eyes, and breathes.

They decide to go to the pub with the garden with the outdoor heaters, at Richie’s insistence, so that he might indulge his nicotine habit. He’s been gasping for a cigarette all day, but he hadn’t dared ask Eddie if he could slip out for a few minutes.

They squish onto a small picnic table together, and Bill ends up sat comfortably on Ben’s lap, an attempt at navigating the lack of space. Ben’s hands loop comfortably around Bill’s waist, and Richie sends a quirked eyebrow his way, receiving a confused but genuine smile in response.

Richie offers to buy the first round, ‘lead buys first’, and pulls Bill off of Ben’s lap to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

“Is something going on there, Billiam?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Rich” Bill replies, leaning on the bar and tapping his fingers rhythmically on the polished wood.

“Between you and our dear King. Bit of method acting, if you will?” Richie replies, waggling his eyebrows.

“I’m still lost”

“Oh my sweet summer child. Are you, our beloved Queen Gertrude, boning the usurper in chief, King Claudius?”

“You mean – am I fucking Ben?” Bill laughs.

“Yes!”

“I’m pretty sure Beverly would stab me with her knitting needles if I even tried it, mate”

“Ah, you got a lady friend then?”

“Nope. Ben does. Bev is the costume designer for this production. She’s been with Ben for years and this is the first production they’ve worked on together since they got together years ago. It’s super sweet and also super gross because I’ve walked in one them … doing things … what feels like so times and we’ve only been rehearsing for a day!”

Richie threw his head back and laughed, a proper belly laugh that shook his entire body and soul. Bill laughed too, a high-pitched croaky laugh that just made Richie laugh even more. Wiping some stray tears from his eyes, Richie was sure he saw a familiar figure disappear into the toilet, a figure wearing all black and a gauzy scarf.

“I thought Eddie wasn’t coming with us?”

“Huh? He’s not?” Bill replied, confused.

“I swear I just saw him disappear into the toilet” Richie said, still staring at the toilet door, lest he miss the person he was sure was Eddie reappear in the main bar area.

“I need a piss anyway so I’ll go check!”

Bill disappeared into the bathroom, and by the time he’d returned Richie was in the middle of ordering.

“Hey mate, can I get four pints of Somersby and two Punk IPA’s please? – – oh, any luck?”

“Nah, It wasn’t Eddie”

Richie hummed, not entirely convinced.

As they waited for their drinks, Bill started pressuring Richie about the weirdness he’d witnessed between him and Eddie.

“I’ve gotta ask, dude, what was all that about with Eddie? I saw that weird look you shared”

Richie tried to remain as flippant, and disaffected as it was possible to be, given the circumstances.

“Ah, I dunno, man. You know how he is”

“I’ve known him a day, Rich, and judging by the tension between you two that you could cut with a knife, I’m guessing you can’t say the same”

They arrived back at the table, much to Richie’s delight, and he passed out the drinks, hoping that the conversation between him and Bill would get buried by whatever everyone else was talking about.

He was not so lucky.

“Hey Stan, what did you mean when you said that you know why Eddie was being all weird about us getting to know each other?”

“I meant what I said, I know the reason. But I can’t tell you if Richie doesn’t want me to. It’s not my story to tell, I just wanted you all to know that I know”

Bill, who was sitting back on Ben’s lap, just rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Rich, I command thee to tell your mother why the air is most foul between you and master Kaspbrak”

“Do you want the long story or the short story?”

Bill rubbed his chin in faux thought.

“Short, then long if it’s juicy enough”

“We met at school, we fell in love, he broke my heart”

Richie was met with a round of sympathetic hisses and whistles, and a comforting hand on his thigh from Mike.

“Sorry, Kid. We all thought it was something to do with you being late, or something.”

“I mean, that probably didn’t help” Richie tried to laugh, but the words came out strangled.

“What was Eddie like at school?” Ben asked, swatting at Bill who kept trying to put leaves in his beer.

“Um. I dunno – he was, uh, he was brilliant, I guess”

“Wait, hang on” Adrian, who was playing Laertes, interrupted. “Didn’t Eddie go to school in Scotland? And you met Stan at RADA? How… I’m lost. How does that work?”

“Eddie went to RADA for a year before he transferred” Stan supplied, after Richie sent him a panicked look. “Eddie left in the Spring term of first year. He met Richie and I there, and then he left for Edinburgh”

“Why’d he transfer?”

“Ask him yourself, because I still don’t have a fucking clue” Richie replied, bitterly, before draining his pint in one go.

[minimickzy]

Tear In My Heart || Stan Uris

Request: Hey, can you please do a song fic for “Tear in My Heart” by Twenty One Pilots for Either Richiexreader, Stanxreader, or Eddiexreader (I feel like there’s not enough Eddie imagines in this fandom lol)

-I went with Stan because I had a flow

Characters: Reader x Stan Uris (romantic), Reader x Richie Tozier (platonic), the loser club

Unedited

Word count: 2312

Warning: none

AGED UP (17-18)

an: I’ve loved this song forever. Please let me know what you guys think of this one! I really love feedback. let me know if you wanted to be added to my taglist. Thank you to @pinetree111, @wheelerswaffles and @trashmouthwheelr for beta reading this for me <3

Sometimes you gotta bleed to know

That you’re alive and have a soul

But it takes someone to come around

To show you how

Stan always had a hard time figuring out his feelings, a brief part of his life he thought he meant be a sociopath. After all Richie always talked about girls and boys and love and sex. Stan never understood. “If you know what I mean.” Richie would say with a wink, and although he never said anything he didn't get it. He didn't know what he meant.

That was until (y/n) (y/l) came to Derry Maine the summer after junior year.

She’s the tear in my heart

I’m alive

She’s the tear in my heart

I’m on fire

She’s the tear in my heart

Take me higher

Than I’ve ever been

The first time Stan noticed her was when Bill brought her to the Barrens. “This is (y-(y/n). She just moved down the s-st-street from me. Fi-figured she could use s-s-some friends.” She was beautiful, breathtaking, something Stan was not prepared for. She rendered him speechless with a simple smile. He didn't speak to her, he didn't think he could, for the entire day he took note of everything about her from afar.

It took until your third hang out with all the losers before you knew his name. You had been spending most of your time Richie. The two of you just clicked, like a long lost brother and sister. You went up to Stan and put your hand out in front of him, “I’m (y/n).” You watched as he gulped and then took your hand in his, “Stan.” You smiled, “I know, Richie told me.” he nodded and let his hand fall back to his side.

After that he started to be able to make small talk with you, still too shy to bring up anything personal. He also saw you and Richie get closer and closer as time passed. He didn’t know why he cared so much but he was so angry all the time and it must have been because of that.

There was one night he knew he'd remember forever. You probably didn't even think anything of it

but to him it meant the world. The rest of the losers had went home for the day and it was just you and him by the old Sandpipe.

The sun was setting and the two of you had barley exchanged any words, But you seemed to be enjoying just spending time with him. He zoned out watching the leaves ruffle as they started to change color, welcoming in the school year, when you slapped his chest softly.

He looked to you with surprise, you widen your eyes and lean in close, for a second he thought you were going to kiss him but instead you brought your lips to his ear and whispered, “there's a bird over there, I don't know what it is but I know how you love them. I’ve never seen one like it before.” He turned away from you to look at the bird and sure enough he had no clue what it was, it must be rare.

He grinned wider than you had ever seen and made sure to take note of every detail of it so when he got home he could verify it in one of his Bird books.

“How’d you know I liked birds?” Stan asked, you shrugged, “I’m not that dense Stan.” You gave him a cheeky grin. “I guess I’ll see you at school in a few days.” You pressed a quick kiss against his cheek and then stood up heading home. He just watched awestruck. You remembered he loved birds.

Then at school the anger came back. Richie always had a arm slung around your shoulders, or the two of you always sat next to each other. (Even though you asked him countless times to.)

Stan slowly realised he was jealous. Which honestly he didn’t like. He was used to walking through life and not giving a shit about anyone else around. But now, everything just felt horrible, like there you were with Richie and here he was alone like always. He never noticed how lonely he was until now. You were tearing his heart and you didn’t even know it.

The songs on the radio are okay

But my taste in music is your face

And it takes a song to come around

To show you how

Richie started to notice how Stan was acting different, and he could totally tell that it was because he was probably sexually frustrated, and Richie being the great friend he is just had to find his main man a date.

Richie knew Stan didn’t like most of the girls at school, he always found something wrong with all of them. But he had never said anything about this one girl who was in their history, Richie didn’t remember her name but she was decently hot.

At the next party Richie dragged Stan and you both along. Beverly and Bill would also be there but you didn’t end up seeing them, in fact all you saw was Richie pulling Stan through the crowd trying to get him to make a move on some random girl.

When Richie finally got them talking you could tell how uncomfortable Stan was even from your place across the room. “I am the best matchmaker ever.” Richie laughed holding his hand up for a high five. You just scoffed and shook your head, “He obviously doesn't want to be over there.” Richie gave you a confused look, “and why the fuck not? She's hot and funny… I think, besides Stan the man desperately needs to get some action.” you rolled your eyes, “Well not from her.” “well then from who?” You shrugged and he started laughing, “you do not have a thing for my boy Stan, holy fuck (y/n), I can’t believe this. You have a crush on bird boy.”

“So what?” You asked as both you and Richie looked back at Stan to find him flipping Richie off as the girl was facing the other way. “fuck. He’s gonna kill me.” Richie mumbled as the two of you watched Stan smile and walk away from the girl over to you. “Richie, can we talk.” Richie gulped and nodded sending you a look of fear before being pulled away by Stan.

“What the fuck was that?” Stan asked him harshly, Richie shrugged, “I just thought you could use some help in the love department.” Stan rolled his eyes with his fists balled at his sides, “well I don’t.” he grumbled, he meant it to be quiet enough for Richie not to hear but sure enough that boy never missed a thing.

“What? You got yourself a secret chick or something?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows, “No! It’s just-” “Was she not good enough?” “No, It wasn't tha-” “Because there's plenty of other fish in the sea-” “Richie shut up and let me talk!” Stan yelled and Richie finally shut his mouth and pretended to zip his lips shut. Stan took a deep breath and shut his eyes, spitting out the words before he could chicken out.

“I think I’m in love with someone.” Richie fake fainted and Stan kicked his foot. “Get up idiot!” Richie shot back up and looked at Stan wide eyed, “you can’t be in love. Your Stan.” Stan looked at his feet and Richie scoffed, “who is the lucky lady?” “I can’t tell you.” “What? I’m your best friend!” “Beep beep richie.” Richie put his hands on his hips, “Why do you even think you love this mystery chick?”

Stan thought about that, why did he think he loved you? He had never even said it to himself before and now he had just went and told Richie. That was a mistake. But then he forgot about Richie, because there you were, barely visible from the corner he and richie stood. All the little things that he loved about you rushed into his mind all at once.

She’s the tear in my heart

I’m alive

When you smiled at Richie

She’s the tear in my heart

I’m on fire

When he had his arm around your waist

She’s the tear in my heart

Take me higher

When you’d grab his hand during a walk or movie

Than I’ve ever been

When you pointed out a bird

Than I’ve ever been

When you took the long way in the hallways to see him even though you didn’t have to

Than I’ve ever been

When you kissed his cheek to say goodbye

Than I’ve ever been

When you smiled at him for no reason

You fell asleep in my car I drove the whole time

But that’s okay I’ll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine

The losers had went to a drive in movie all together. Richie, You, and Bill all asked if Stan the man who had gotten a new car after something happened with his dad, he never told you what, could give you a ride home. You were beyond tried and had already fallen asleep during the last movie. Stan wanted to spend all the time in the world with you but not in a car when you were passed out next to him.

But of course he agreed and helped you into the passenger seat as Richie and Bill slid into the back. After all The three of you lived on his way home so there was really nothing to it. Richie got out first, giving Stan a pat on the back and then whispering something to you that made you let out a tried giggle even though you had been slipping in and out of sleep for the entirety of the ride.

Stan couldn't help but let his gaze linger on you, you had your head back against the seat with your lips parted ever so slightly turned up in a soft smile, some of your hair had fallen over your face and you cheeks were rosey from the cool night air.

When Stan pulled up to Bill’s house he turned around to wake up Bill but he was already up and watching the two of you. “Stan?” he asked, Stan nodded, “I think you sh-sho-should tell her.” Stan gave Bill a confused look and all Bill had to do to get him to understand was to look to you. “I kn-know. Good night.” He gave Stan a soft smile and then slid out of the car.

Sometimes you gotta bleed to know, oh, oh

That you’re alive and have a soul, oh, oh

But it takes someone to come around

To show you how

Stan pulled up to your front walk but you refused to get up. Whenever he tried to help you up all you did was groan. “(y/n), we’re at your house.” You just turned your head towards him with your eyes barely open and smiled, “carry me.”

Stan looked at you with wide eyes as you pouted your lip, “please” He sighed and nodded, there was no other way you were going to move. He turned off his car and walked around to open your door. You put your arms out so he could pick you up and let your arms wrap around his neck.

Something like electricity ran through his body when he felt you play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He noted that the car was missing from your driveway as he brought you up to your front door and started to put you down. Tightening your grip, you whispered “upstairs, two doors to the right. Doors unlocked.” He nodded gently and carefully brought you to your room.

He set you down and helped you take off your shoes, got you a cup of water and started for the door. “Stan.” He turned back to you. You sat on your bed, watching him intently, “could you stay?” Your question shocked him. him? stay over? A boy?

But your eyes seemed to long for him, his mind couldn't fight back against his own wants and he gave in, shuffling over to you. You lied down and he sat on the edge, you chuckled and pulled at his shirt, “lay down Stan, I don't bite.. Unless…” Stans cheeks changed into a deep scarlett as he took his spot next to you.

She’s the tear in my heart

I’m alive

You put your hand on his chest

She’s the tear in my heart

I’m on fire

Pressed your lips to his soft cheek

She’s the tear in my heart

Take me higher

Whispered goodnight in his ear

Than I’ve ever been

Each time you touched him his heart caught on fire, your fingers reigniting the embers under his skin.

He thought you were asleep. That your eyes had shut long ago and you were out for the count when he mustered up all his courage to tell you, “I think I’m in love with you (y/n), I thought it wasn’t possible but everyday my heart rips more and more and I don’t know why. But I think that maybe it’s because I love you.”

You lied, with your cheek now pressed against his chest and your legs intertwined with his, with his gentle fingers running through your hair when you finally spoke up after his confession, “I love you too Stan.” And just like that Stan Uris realized that in fact his heart had been torn in half but with those few simple words you put it all back together.

My heart is my armor

She’s the tear in my heart

She’s a carver

She’s a butcher with a smile

Cut me farther

Than I’ve ever been

Taglist

@dannnyphantomm @thekidsofneibolt @mcheung0314 @gay-ships-and-tea-sips @mafiawrites @potrawska 

[kaepop-trash]

Resurrection In Satisfaction Ch-1 (DOTC Sequel)

               “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

Rated: Angst

Pairing: JaehyunxReader

Summary: Jaehyun knew better. Yet he felt himself falling back in the loop he thought he was out of, and he loved how satisfying it was.

(A/N): It’s finally here oops. A looooott of you were looking forward to this and I finally did it yay. The fact that the MV also came out today is pure coincidence but man everyone looks incredible.

Death Of The Cat:  Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Resurrection In Satisfaction: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

She forgot the number of the drinks she’d had but she was aware that of how heavy her head felt and how muffled her steps were. The loud noise around her of music and people, entangled with her buzz to make a different atmosphere in her head altogether. She saw an object hovering in front of her, a cigarette or something else.

Refusing is impolite.

She extended her hand with hazy precision and grabbed the object delicately. Against her lips the tip was wet but she took a long drag in anyway.

“Hold it in for a bit.” She heard a drowned voice and obeyed, being rewarded by a growing haze, her mind getting far away from her.

Once her lungs burned, she released her breath, mesmerised by the trail of smoke floating in the air. She decided to take another long drag, repeating the same process. Sitting back she tried to focus on her surroundings, focus on the nameless song blasting on the speakers and the melded chatter of the people around her. She heard the sloppy sound of people kissing and the repulsive sound of someone throwing up somewhere.

She frowned, suddenly aware of how loud it was, too loud. She tried her best to get up from the couch she was in, once she sat up to the edge a hand landed on her shoulder.

“You aren’t leaving are you? We’re only getting started.” The voice sounded forceful, but she kept her eyes focused on the sliding doors leading to the lawn.

“Just getting some fresh air.” She said and stood up, stumbling a little. But habit made her adept and she focused on keeping her steps steady.

“I’ll come with you.” The same voice insisted and she subdued the annoyed huff. A hand grabbing hers a little too hard.

“She didn’t ask for your company.” She thought the voice was familiar, but the moment her hand was free, she rushed out, suffocated by the room.

Once outside the weight of how intoxicated she was perched on her shoulder and she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and feeling the gentle lull and dizziness. It almost felt good. After a moment she slid down the wall and sat on the floor, collecting herself.

“I should really go back home.” She whispered to herself, rubbing her face once with her hands as if it would give her some ground in reality and got up. She decided to go back into the party.

She recognised the song, a smooth number. She waddled to the kitchen slowly and went to the fridge to look for a bottle of cold water. Only after the refreshing liquid slid down her throat did she realise how parched she was. She noticed a boy looking at her with a thirsty gaze. She suppressed a laugh and extended the bottle in her hand towards him, a smile lit up his face and he refused.

“Are you here alone?” She rolled her eyes at the line. He walked closer to her and her pride didn't allow her to step back, instead she waiting till he placed a hand on her waist and she scoffed with utter disbelief.

“The entitlement.” She murmured, pushing his hand off.

“Bored already sweetheart?” The words slid of his tongue and she smiled at him.

“I will knee you in the balls so hard, the next time you want to be patronising you will shiver at the memory.” She pushed his hands away harshly and walked away as she heard another pair of footsteps approaching.

She finally found a relatively empty corridor and leaned against the wall.

“Hey I was looking for you.” She recognised the voice from earlier, the guy on the couch.

“Fuck off.” She said rather loudly, earning the attention of two of the couples down the corridor who were now looking at the boy suspiciously. He laughed awkwardly and walked away, mumbling a quick ‘bitch’ before he did. She scoffed dismissively, leaning back and closing her eyes.

“Haven’t you had enough to drink?” She heard a voice in front of her, she smirked and took another sip of her drink.

“It’s just soda.” Looking up, her smirk fading to a confused frown.

“Jaehyun.” She breathed out, he stared at her with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“You should go home.” His voice was curt.

“I should be doing a lot of things. Yet here we are.” She raised her glass, she looked over at the glass in his hand, taking it away before he could stop her and drained the entire glass.

“I needed a drink suddenly. And considering that was neat rum, I assume you did too.” She giggled. Turning to him, she could tell he was clenching his jaw rather harshly.

“Let’s go.” He said, grabbing her wrist. She looked down at her arm and pulled away so forcefully, she toppled over. She saw his hard gaze soften, crouching down beside her.

“I don’t need your help Jaehyun.” She mumbled, rubbing her elbow where it hurt. He turned to it once and turned back.

“I don’t doubt it, but I would sleep a lot better knowing you were home safe.” His voice was gentle. She chewed on her bottom lip, refusing to look up at him.

“Why do you care, this isn’t my first party and it won’t be my last. I can take care of myself.” She shrugged away his hand on her shoulder.

“I know you can, but I’m here at this party and I won’t leave till you come with me.” She looked up at him, his soft smile annoying her.

“Months you don’t say a word to me, and suddenly you care.” She stood up on her own, brushing her back and waiting for him to lead the way.

“Do you want to grab a bite?” He asked as they walked down the empty path, the loud music of the house slowly fading behind them. She shook her head, staring at the ground in front of her. A gust of wind blew, making the hair on her exposed skin stand. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her chest.

“I don’t want to walk all the way.” She mumbled, when she noticed him trying to pull of his jacket she turned to him with a meaningful gaze and he stopped. They just walked silently after that.

After a few more minutes of walking, he stopped in front of a familiar house and she looked up, before looking at him with a confused frown.

“My house was closer than yours, you’re freezing. Just stay for the night.” He reasoned.

“No.” She said firmly.

“I’m not going to argue with you at 2 in the morning (Y/N), come inside.” His eyebrows knit together again. She clenched her Jaw this time.

“You don’t have to. I can walk back myself.” She turned away but he grabbed her arm.

“I will pick you up and drag you inside kicking and screaming if I have to. I will not let you walk the entire fraternity row alone this late while you are this drunk. Get inside.” She breathed out in anger, but knew he was right. She gave a quick nod without turning to him and he let her go to unlock the door.

“We have to be quiet, everyone is asleep.” He whispered.

“And here you were talking about kicking and screaming.” A ghost of a smile hinted at her lips. He turned to her with a surprised look, laughing at the unexpected humour and she joined.

“Sit.” He gestured at the familiar kitchen counter as they entered the kitchen. He then busied himself, preparing something while she looked around, rendered silent by the overwhelming nostalgia the house held.

“Here.” He placed a plate with a sandwich in front of her and she turned her attention to it, thanking him with a small voice.

“It’s the same as the last time you came here.” He said and she nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s just us who changed.” She ate her sandwich quietly after that.

They stopped in front of his room, a sort of unacknowledged change in mood passing between them.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll be on the couch down the corridor if you need anything.” He was still whispering, but this time closer to her. She took a deep breathe, suddenly in need to keep calm. He opened the door, leading her in.

“You don’t have to really.” She said feeling extremely guilty.

“Yes I do.” He said and she sensed something in his voice again. He picked up a pillow and took a blanket from his cupboard before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

She sat down on the bed, suddenly overwhelmed again. The room was too familiar, the bed was too familiar, the way the room even smelt was familiar. The comfort she felt in the familiarity made her skin crawl. She didn’t get much sleep that night.

Jaehyun groaned as she shook him awake, he got up immediately when he noticed her.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was hoarse from sleep but he looked worried and she chewed on her bottom lip as guilt washed over her again.

“I just wanted to tell you before I left.” She spoke as he rubbed his eyes.

“What time is it?” He asked and she looked at her phone.

“5:30, sorry I woke you up so early.” She looked down.

“That’s alright, but did you sleep?” When she shook her head he sighed.

“Should I even try to convince you to stay till breakfast?” His chuckle made her crack a smile.

“I don’t want to impose more than necessary, I’m just really grateful for what you did last night.” He looked like he was going to say something to that but a door opening made them both turn to find Doyoung walking out of his room. He looked between the both of them, sleep impairing his thoughts as the scene in front of him slowly sunk in and his eyes widened slightly before he sighed, waving his hand and walking towards the washroom. They watched as he exited moments later and went back to his room, briefly offering them a glance like he wanted to be certain, rubbing his eyes for dramatic effect to.

“Right. Goodbye Jaehyun, go back to sleep.” She nodded once before walking away.

“They broke up though.” Yuta spoke as he ate his bland salad, frowning a little as he chewed.

“What?” Jaehyun's eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought you knew, everyone knows. It happened two weeks ago” All his frat brothers nodded around the table when Jaehyun turned back.

“Why didn’t any of you tell me?” He asked and they all looked at each other nervously.

“Well we didn’t want to bring her up, you aren’t exactly keen on the topic.” Johnny said carefully.

“Yeah it’s not like we expected you to bring her home or anything.” Doyoung spoke and Jaehyun shot him a glare.

“Don’t put it like that. Nothing happened, she was just really drunk, I was doing the right thing. And I thought she was still dating him.” He explained and Doyoung only shrugged, “Anyone would have done the same.” He explained further, his own need to explain himself annoying him.

“Anyone would have just called her boyfriend instead.” Doyoung replied before stuffing his mouth with his rice.

For a second time, Jaehyun found himself at a party. With her across the room, Dancing with a strange guy. He watched the guy’s hands going lower, more anger surging in him than he intended. When she pushed his arms off and walked away he couldn’t hide the grin on his face. When she came and stood in front of him, he was taken aback.

“Are you following me Jaehyun?” She asked, but her voice lacked accusation.

“This is college, it’s not uncommon to find someone you know at a party.” He wasn’t lying, he assumed she’d be here but there was no certainty. She shot him a look before walking away and he continued to keep an eye on her from afar. When he saw her stumbling out he sighed deeply and followed. Once he walked out he heard a laugh from beside him, turning to find her leaning against the wall.

“I’m not that drunk today. I will go home.” She informed him and he nodded. She stared at him for a moment, deep in consideration before she spoke again.

“I’m not on some heartbreak self destruct mission. It's just weird to have nothing to do anymore, I realise I don't have a lot of friends, not my own at least.” She looked at him, watching his expression change as he caught on.

“Do you know why he broke up with me? He thought he was the only person in the relationship.” Her laugh was pained, “I guess he was right, I’m not exactly the most affectionate person around.” She scoffed.

“Does it hurt?” He asked her and she turned to him like she didn’t understand the question.

“I guess. I mostly don’t understand what people want of me. Not that it matters, i’m too stubborn to change myself for someone else.” She sighed and there was a long pregnant silence between them that she ended herself.

“I guess I am pretty terrible, he was good, he was sweet, and I turned him bitter and hollow. I mean I’m pretty much doing the shittiest thing right now, talking to you out of all the people about this.” She sighed, eyes glazing over like they weren’t here anymore, “But why does it hurt so much?” The way she looked at him made him feel strange.

“Some people have a very concrete sense of what they consider affection. They don’t realise that things like making breakfast for your friends and taking care of you when you are strung out on medication can be affection too.” His words made her turn to him, unspoken sentiment held between them.

She sat in class waiting for the teacher to arrive. Her head throbbed from a hangover and she lay her head on the table.

“I always thought I was your closest friend among everyone.” She looked up to see Johnny, a little surprised when he sat down beside her.

“I mean compared to the others, you and I always had a close friendship. And I was the one to introduce you to everyone.” He continued as he took out his material for the class.

“You can say Jaehyun you know. I won't combust at his name.” She raised her head once and spoke with a low groan, before putting her head back down.

She complained about how unnecessarily difficult the subject was as her and Johnny walked out of the classroom. They discussed the syllabus in the order of difficulty, when Johnny had a bright idea.

“I could help you with the subject you know, I'm not half bad at it.” He suggested and her face lit up.

“Half bad? You're amazing at Psychology John! Please help me.” She asked with a desperation that is only akin to a university student before midterms. Johnny laughed but nodded.

“Do you have classes after lunch?” When she shook her head he smiled, “Great! Come by the house then, this was my last class today.” He said excitedly, but when her smile faded he rolled his eyes.

“Don't be like that. You need to pass in the subject if you want to keep your gpa up.” He frowned.

“Can't you just come to my sorority? I'm sure you'd love my housemates.” She sneaked in but he gave her a sarcastic smile.

“Cheap shot.” He playfully hit her head with his notebook, “But you can't just keep avoiding everyone because you dislike confrontation. I better see you at the house at lunch, I'll save you some food.” She cracked a smile at that, but still nodded unsurely.

After she dropped off all her things at her house, she suddenly felt the need to shower and clean up, anything to avoid what was next. Dropping Johnny a quick text and walking into the bathroom as her phone sounded with a reply immediately.

“He's not even here.” Johnny huffed as she walked into the house.

“He's not the one I'm dreading meeting Johnny.” Before she could continue a small gasp made them turn to the kitchen entrance where Mark stood with wide eyes and a spoon in his mouth.

“What's wrong?” A voice spoke from inside the kitchen, Haechan walked out with creased brows that turned to wide shock when he saw what Mark did.

“You forgot everyone else.” She mumbled to Johnny, before turning to the two Juniors, waving at them awkwardly. Mark waved back, still wide-eyed and with the spoon in his mouth. Haechan on the other hand scrambled up the stairs.

“I feel like a mom who walked out on her children. I'm too young and irresponsible for this.” She looked at Johnny with accusation before walking up to Mark.

“The other day Mingyu offered to help me with an assignment and I definitely told him off.” Mark said, his voice still shocked, she laughed loudly and ruffled his hair, despite him being a good few inches taller.

“What did you say?” She said with playful skepticism.

“Thank you but I'm almost done anyway.” He confessed with a sheepish grin.

“Savage.” She grinned sarcastically, and Mark giggled in a familiar way.

“Appreciate the gesture, now if you don't mind. I'm going to go talk to Haechan.” She spoke softly and he nodded, walking away to sit down and eat his food.

She knocked on Haechan's door lightly and heard scrambling and a small thud after which the door slowly swung open.

“Hi.” She spoke, trying to hide her grin, “May I come in?” She asked and he nodded.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked slowly, dreading the idea of talking about this, Haechan scrunched his eyes in question but she continued, “You couldn't even look me in the eye downstairs.” She forced a smile but he blushed deeply and shook his hands and head furiously.

“I got embarrassed because I was in my boxers. I mean sure what happened wasn't very nice but I'm happy you're here, it's not my place to be mad.” She hugged him abruptly making him protest but laugh. She told him how mature he was and expressed her gratitude and he only agreed, trying to get her off.

“Either way, you need to he worried about Yuta. He's far prettier than I am.” He scoffed and she winced, nodding in reluctant agreement.

There was silence at the table as she watched Yuta eat quietly. Johnny coughed awkwardly after a long time.

“Could you pass the chicken?” She asked Johnny who turned to Yuta.

“Yuta, pass the chicken.” Johnny pointed at him.

“I can't pass food to nothing Johnny, what are you doing?” Yuta mumbled. She sighed and got up, trying to pick up the bowl but Yuta picked it up and placed it further away, eating like nothing happened.

“Don't be a brat Nakamoto.” She scolded him and he looked up offended.

“You're a brat!” He shot back.

“Nice comeback.” She clapped her hands, “Now pass me the chicken I'm hungry.” She commanded.

“Never. You're mean. Mean people don't get chicken.” He stuck his tongue out and she sighed.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled and was about the pick up her bag to just leave.

“You stopped sitting beside me in philosophy!” He got up with loud protest.

“Only because you stopped sitting beside me in history!” She turned out and he scoffed.

“You stopped coming over!” Yuta said next, grasping at anything.

“Do you think I wanted to?” She said incredulously and Yuta’s words faltered.

“I missed you okay.” He mumbled, avoiding her gaze, “Playing Mario Kart wasn't the same without you.” He cracked a smile, picking up the bowl of chicken as a peace offering.

Lunch took longer than expected and Johnny was apologetic. He offered to teach her in the living room after she said it was weird to go upstairs into someone else's room. They were both studying well into the evening and both of them forgot about the time. The door opened and shut with a loud thud but both of them were used to the sound enough to not be distracted.

“Why do you look so distressed?” Doyoung's voice could be heard from the foyer.

“I was at a party, I thought I'd see-” His voice broke off as he entered the living room. Both Johnny and her looked up with a knowing glance.

“Hi.” His voice sounded almost relieved as his eyes landed on hers and she offered him a smile, “What are you doing here?” His voice was curt again.

“Studying.” She kept her voice distracted as well.

“That's nice,” He sounded winded. “Have fun.” He said and walked towards the stairs.

After coping himself up in his room for a long time, he finally mustered up enough courage to go downstairs. He didn't understand why his palms were suddenly clammy and his mouth was dry but he walked into the kitchen, almost doubling back when he saw her behind the counter. She heard his hesitant steps and looked up with wide curious eyes that turned guilty when they landed on him.

“I'm making dinner, you still like stir fry don't you?” Her voice was small, his eyes lit up with nostalgia before he looked away.

“Yes.” He didn't want to admit that he hadn't had any since she stopped making them.

He slowly slipped into a seat at the counter as she continued cutting vegetables.

“I have a dentist appointment tomorrow.” He tried to fill the silence, she didn't look up but her lips cracked into a smile.

“Do you want me to make you custard?” Her words passed her smile onto him.

“Will you tuck me in too?” He laughed. It was so natural, it took both of them a good moment to stop smiling as the words sunk in. This time the silence was abundantly loud.

[bamby0304]

Season’s Special: Chapter 10

Winter: December

Summary: Life was simple. You worked at the local cafe, starting your days baking some pies before setting off to serve customers. Everything was routine, all year round. Nothing changed. As a creature of habit you were quite content living your life the way it was. But when a flannel wearing flirt walks into the cafe one morning you begin to wonder if maybe you’re missing something…

Over the next twelve months things start to change. Over four seasons your world is turned upside down… only question is, is it for better or for worse?

Masterlist

Warnings: Some violence...

Bamby

You felt like crap. The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, the whole town was busy preparing for the coming festivities… and you felt like complete and utter crap.

It seemed the electrical and water problems Susie had been experiencing had come to your apartment- which also affected the cafe. Even after Susie went back to her place and informed you it was back to normal, you were left to deal with a building that had more mood swings than a tantrum throwing toddler.

With everyone bustling around town and planning parties, your month was completely booked. Orders were practically coming out of your ears there were so many of them. For the next four to five weeks you would have no free time.

The stress of your building and all the orders was making it hard for you to get some decent sleep. You felt drained all the time, like it didn’t matter if you slept for a hundred years, it still wouldn’t be enough. It was getting to the point where you felt so horrible you’d actually started being sick.

Food was off the table. Just the thought of eating made your stomach churn. All you could manage was the few bites you forced down your throat whenever you felt like you were going to pass out.

Coffee was your best friend. You didn’t usually drink as much as you had been lately, and you definitely never had it as strong as you had been. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Every year you got a little under the weather around Christmas, so it wasn’t entirely odd for you to feel the way you did. But you didn’t recall it ever being this bad.

To be honest, you were pretty sure the cafe wouldn’t have survived the last few weeks if it weren’t for Tom and Susie. They’d, of course, taken notice in your change, and had stepped up without a word.

In the kitchen of the cafe you were alternating between sipping on coffee and making desserts. You had pies in the oven, cookies cooling on the bench, a cake mix ready to go, and cupcakes that needed to be decorated. That was just what you had going at that moment, there was still a seemingly never-ending list of orders still to be done.

Focusing on your work- and drink- you didn’t even notice when the front bell rang. Though, mind you, you hadn’t noticed it ringing all day, so it wasn’t a surprise you didn’t realise you had a customer.

Your attention was pulled away from your steaming, extra strong, cup of coffee when Susie walked in, a kind smile on her face. “Someone’s here for you, boss.”

Frowning, confused, you placed your mug down on the counter and headed out to the front of the room. That’s where you stopped dead in your tracks.

It had been almost four weeks since you’d seen him. Dean Winchester. He looked just as he had before he’d left, yet more handsome than ever. He looked a little more rugged and scruffy, his facial hair passed the shadow he usually let it grow to- though the hair was far from being untamed, unkempt or even close to what you could call a beard. But other than that, he still looked like Dean. Your Dean.

Slowly, a smile crept on your face, and before you knew what you were doing, you were running around the counter and towards him. He caught you as you threw your arms around him, jumping in the air. Spinning you around, his arms around your waist, his face buried in your neck, he held you close.

A moment later, you pulled back so you could look into those beautiful green eyes you’d missed so much. They were smiling up at you, crinkling at the corners.

“God, I missed you.” You let out a breath you’d been holding since he’d driven off all those weeks ago.

Chuckling against you, he nodded lightly. “I know what you mean.”

You sat at a table across from Dean, inside the café and away from the snow outside. The two of you were silent as you watched each other. You were sipping on your coffee again, while he had a drink of his own and- of course- a pie on the side.

“Spiced custard.” He nodded, breaking the silence, gesturing to his pie with the fork in his hand. “I like it.”

“Good.” You smiled lightly, feeling more content than you had in some time.

“But I was kinda hoping for something, I don’t know… special.” He gave you a pointed look.

“We’ve been busy,” you explained. “It actually took me a few days to realise the season had change, and by then my schedule was so full I never got time to think of a special.”

“Can I suggest pecan?” He grinned lightly.

“You always suggest pecan.”

He nodded in response, a small laugh falling from his lips as he turned back to his pie, the two of you silent once more.

The first week without Dean had been torture. You’d gotten so used to having him around that you forgot what it was like without him. Every time the bell rang you were sure it was him, coming back to grab some pie. But it never was.

By the second week you’d convinced yourself to be numb to the pain. You made yourself wait, and forced yourself to be as busy as possible. It had worked for a while… until the next week rolled by.

Week three was the worst. It was around then that Susie left your apartment and things started to change. Your place was a mess, your sleep patterns no better. Whenever you did sleep you had horrible nightmares of Dean… picturing him hurt and bloody… and dying.

For the last few days you’d been a mess. Working nonstop to distract yourself, even though that actually did nothing to keep your mind from going to dark thoughts. You drank as much coffee as you could handle, not wanting to sleep. Not wanting to see the nightmares. Your hair had started to thin and fall out here and there, your skin paling, eyes red rimmed with dark circles surrounding them. You were pretty sure you looked like some kind of monster.

But seeing Dean in real life- and in one piece- washed all your worry away. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

“I don’t mean to sound like an annoying, over-protective boyfriend, or anything,” Dean swallowed the last of his pie before meeting your eyes again, “but, is everything alright?”

Your smile vanished, replaced with a look of guilt and surprise. “What are you talking about?” you tried to play dumb.

“I’ve been kinda hoping you’d say something so I didn’t have to, but… you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Or eaten in days,” he noted.

Maybe everything wasn’t going to be okay…

“It’s nothing.” You shrugged, trying to brush his worry off. “Just stress.”

“Because of the shop? If that’s the problem, I’m back, I’ll help out,” he offered.

Heart warming at his offer, you gave a small smile as you shook your head. “We’re fine. Really.”

“Then, what is it?”

Part of you wanted to keep trying to sweep everything under the rug. You didn’t want to worry anyone, especially Dean. But you also knew he wasn’t going to listen to anything but the truth. He wasn’t going to let this go until you told him everything.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair and let it all out. “The electricity for one. We’ve changed the globes a million times but it must be the wires.”

“Lights keep flickering?”

You nodded, going on. “And the water pressure is off. Sometimes the water comes out murky and gross as well, which is not good when you’ve got to use it to cook. Then there’s the heating. No matter what we try, I’m always freezing.” You gestured to the layers of clothes you were wearing to prove a point.

“Any strange noises?”

“Well, yeah. But that could be the old building and pipes. Sometimes we get rats in the walls as well. And it has been kinda windy lately,” you noted.

There was a look on Dean’s face, as if he felt like all of the information you’d just given him was the worst news he could have heard. He looked as if you’d just told him someone had physically hurt you or something.

Not liking that look, you tried to give him a reassuring smile as you reached out to slip your hand into his. “But we’re fine, Dean, really.”

His eyes scanned you. They roamed over you from head to toe. There was no heat in his gaze like there usually was when he looked you over. Instead it was like he was examining you. As if he was trying to find some kind of injury, or anything that might be out of place.

When he spoke again you were a little concerned at the tone of his voice and the fact the look in his eyes hadn’t softened- despite your efforts. “Look, I gotta go home and grab some things, okay? I want you to stay here. With people. Maybe take Susie to the park or something? Go for a walk, I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you laughed lightly, “it’s snowing outside. I’m not going for a walk.”

“Fine. Just… just stay with people, okay? I don’t want you to be alone.” He got to his feet, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “Promise me.”

All you could manage was a nod, his behaviour rendering you speechless.

Pleased with your response, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead before turning on his heels and walking out the door. Each time he turned back to look at you, you took notice of his tense jaw and worried eyes. You’d never seen someone so concerned before.

You’d tried to keep your promise. You really had. But when Dean didn’t come back and the store started to empty, you couldn’t find it in your heat to make Susie or Tom stay with you. Besides, you were exhausted. You wanted to sleep.

Now that Dean was back you’d hoped your nightmares would disappear. So, the moment you’d stepped into your apartment you’d shed your layers of clothing, leaving your tights and shirt on. You’d grabbed a blanket, popped a movie on, curled up on the couch and let yourself sleep.

Blood. Screams. Fire. Horror.

Fear. Pain. Anger. Sorrow.

All around you. Your nightmares were more alive than ever. They consumed your mind. Your soul. It was as if they were draining the happiness out of you. Like it was draining everything good. Leaving nothing but an emptiness that revolted you.

Try as you might, you tried to wake. You tried to pull yourself out of the terror. But your mind wouldn’t let it go. You had no control.

You could feel your physical body thrusting and convulsing. You could feel the edge of a scream hanging on your tongue. You could feel your skin slick with sweat while it shivered from a cold like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You could taste your own blood. It coated your mouth, thick and strong.

You could smell rotting flesh. Something so disgusting and wrong you could only think of one word to describe it. Death.

You could hear the incoherent murmurs of someone. They were angry. Their rage all consuming. Their rage consuming your energy. Their rage draining you.

Something loud in the distance pulled at your attention. Someone yelling. Something banging loud. You were pretty sure it was a fist on a door, but you couldn’t be certain. Your brain couldn’t focus on it properly.

More noises followed. Louder. Voices. Closer. Familiar and unfamiliar. Masculine. Worried. Hurried.

Then you felt hands. Strong, warm, welcome hands grasped your shoulders, shaking you. Hard. Fast. Urgent. Scared.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Dean’s voice yelling your name.

He was leaning over you as you lay on the couch, covered in sweat despite how cold you felt. His eyes left yours, glancing down at your chest. Gaze following his, you found yourself looking at a dark red mark on your skin. A mark that looked exactly like a hand print.

“Where is she? Where’d she go?”

Pushing Dean away, you sat up suddenly, eyes wide and glued to the tall stranger in your house… and the shotgun in his hand.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Y/N, this is Sam. Sam, Y/N,” Dean quickly introduced as he grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet.

“Sam? Sam, Sam? As in, your brother Sam?”

“Yes,” Dean answered gruffly, putting himself in front of you protectively for some reason.

You were confused. You had every right to be. For some unknown reason, your boyfriend and his brother had broken into your house in the middle of the night with a gun-

Dean pulled a gun of his own out, cutting your thoughts short.

“What are you doing with that?” You nodded to the weapon in his hands.

Before anyone could respond a woman suddenly appeared in the middle of your apartment. She had deathly grey skin and was dressed in ripped robes that were so dark they almost looked like shadows. She looked like something that had stepped out of a horror movie.

But she hadn’t stepped out of a movie. She was real… and she was in your apartment.

“Sam!” Dean called out to warn his brother, but it was too late.

The woman threw Sam across the apartment, holding him against the wall without laying a finger on him. He struggled to breath, pulling at an invisible force around his throat.

Knowing his brother was in danger, Dean dropped his gun and started rummaging through everything and anything he could get to. “What’s she connected to?” he asked.

Eyes glued to Sam, fear pulsing through your veins, it took you a moment to realise he’d directed the question at you.

“What?”

“The ghost? What’s she connected to?” Dean asked, voice raised and panicked as he hurried for you couch.”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence before Dean had pulled Susie’s book out from between the couch cushions.

Running to the kitchen, knowing Sam didn’t have much time left, Dean grabbing the salt off your bench and a lighter from his pocket. Throwing the book in your sink, he poured salt over it before setting it a light.

An ear-piercing scream echoed off the walls as the woman in black burst into flames before disappearing right before your eyes.

Sam fell to the ground, taking a deep and much needed breath. Dean leaned against the counter, panting hard himself. While you looked around you, your mind still processing everything.

“What the hell just happened?”

Bamby

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[aion-rsa]

Marcella Season 3 Ending Explained: Murders, Money and the Mystery Caller

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Warning: contains major spoilers for Marcella season 3 episodes 1-8, available to stream now on ITV Hub.

From London working mum to Belfast gangster’s moll to international multi-millionaire in just three seasons. That’s some trajectory. Other TV detectives must look at Marcella Backland and ask, where’s my new alias and private plane? 

It’s not coming, Sarge, because unlike Marcella, your show insists on complying with the merest demands of naturalism and coherence. You plod on drearily in an approximation of the real world while Marcella does screaming naked cartwheels through story, Etch-a-Sketch erasing bits of plot, and leaping gazelle-like from one improbable thing to the next. Other crime dramas didn’t realise that untethering entirely from sense was an option. 

Marcella realised, and the result is season three – a take on mental illness so clumsy it’ll have you reappraising the subtle qualities of some bricks. What happens, the new run asked, when you take a detective with dissociative identity disorder and make her take on a new identity for work? She’ll go nutso, right?! Right. 

Add that to an already-irresponsible storyline about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, throw in a compulsive hand-washer reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night, and you’re ready to call house on a full bingo card of mental illness cliché.

If Anna Friel wasn’t so good at her job, Marcella would be unwatchable. Her thoroughgoing commitment to this creaky fairground ride of a crime drama makes it unusually compelling. You watch it like you might watch an increasingly loud drunk on another table in the pub: just to see what it’ll do next.  

It might do a fourth season next, though one hasn’t yet been announced. The season three ending left things open for a fourth go around for our unstable lead – now with millions in stolen gangster cash, an orphaned baby and a new fringe. Should one be required, the wonky stage is set for the return of DS Backland/Keira Devlin/Miss Hart. If Marcella doesn’t return, then that bloodbath of a finale and its mysterious coda was our last goodbye. 

The Mystery Caller

The season’s final shot showed an unanswered cordless phone ringing off on the table of a bar at a private airport in an unknown country. Now going by new alias “Miss Hart”, our lead had taken the call and then hung up on it when a voice asked for Marcella Backland. Who was calling? A cop? DI Rav Sangha? Marcella herself, putting on a voice? (As likely as anything with this show.) 

To judge by the age of baby Katy, some time had passed since the death of the Maguire siblings and the airport scene. Last we’d seen Marcella, she was driving away from the Maguire mansion with baby Katy, having belatedly called for back-up and reported multiple fatalities and an officer (DI Rav) down. Those fatalities in full: Stacey Barratt (nee Maguire), shot dead by her brother Finn; Rory Maguire, shot dead by his sister Stacey in revenge for ordering the murder of her husband Bobby Barrett; Finn Maguire, shot dead by Marcella Backland in her undercover guise as Keira Devlin; Jack Healy, stabbed by Frank Young; and Frank Young, shot by Jack Healy. 

Is Rav dead?

Also seriously wounded in the Maguire bloodbath was DI Rav Sangha, who’d come to Belfast to investigate Bobby Barrett for the murder of the son of the UK Foreign Secretary, when he stumbled across Frank and Marcella’s undercover operation targeting the Maguires. Finn Maguire shot Rav, Marcella shot Finn, and then – as we’d seen in a flash-forward episode earlier – she stood over his bleeding body and said “I told you to walk away”. Did Rav die? 

Perhaps, but if you look again at the montage of corpses shown later in the finale, every single dead body is shown apart from Rav’s, which indicates that he might have made it.

The Maguires’ Millions

Before driving off with baby Katy, Marcella took a knife to the corpse of Rory Maguire and cut out one of his eyes. She used it to get past the retinal scan security on his private laptop so that she could transfer the balance of the Maguire family’s ill-gotten funds to another account, over 24 million in sterling. Showing Katherine Maguire – who was unable to move or speak due to a stroke – what she was doing, Marcella drained the account, saying the money was for Katy and it’s what her mother Stacey would have wanted. 

What happened to Katherine Maguire?

Presumably she was found when the police responded to Marcella’s call for back-up. Due to her second stroke, Katherine was unable to speak or move, so would have had a hard time telling the police that Marcella had kidnapped her grandchild. It wouldn’t have been impossible though.

Was Frank really running an undercover unit?

If he was, some serious questions about probity would have had to be raised at his next annual appraisal. When Frank Young approached Marcella at the end of season two, he told her that he worked in a department with season one character DCI Laura Porter, played by Nina Sosanya. They could use a dead police officer to go undercover, he told our lead. The undercover training we saw Frank subject Marcella to in episode six though, had nothing official about it. He used highly dubious methods to encourage a vulnerable, unstable woman to lose her real self in a fictitious persona, and then exploited her to carry out a personal revenge plan.

Read more

TV

Marcella Season 3 Episodes 1 & 2 Review

By Louisa Mellor

TV

Marcella Season 2 Recap: the Ending, the Killer and Where Next for Season 3?

By Louisa Mellor

Frank did seem to have access to official police systems, which suggests he was acting in a police capacity. When Marcella sent him the addresses and phone numbers found in the belongings of the dead Vietnamese people-trafficking victims, those addresses were duly raided by the police. There was also an official record of his undercover operation against the Maguires, as stumbled upon by DI Rav Sangha during his investigation of the Bobby Barrett murder case. Frank also had entry to a police computer system where he faked the existence of disgraced cop DS Keira Devlin, later seen by Rory Maguire. 

On that same computer system, Marcella discovered that Frank was lying about his wife and daughter living halfway across the world.

What happened to Frank’s wife and daughter? 

They were killed in a Belfast restaurant that was firebombed in 2010 by the Maguires as part of a turf war with rival gang the Callaghans. Frank also would have been killed if he’d arrived at the restaurant on time. He set up the undercover operation and put Marcella in place to get revenge on the Maguire family. At the end of episode two, when Frank was seen talking to a mystery companion on a bench about the operation, we can assume he was talking to his dead wife Sally. A scene later in the season showed him in the fire-blackened restaurant, drinking and ‘talking’ to Sally about his plan. 

Who was tormenting Keira?

Marcella, aka her dormant personality. When ‘Marcella’ was running the show, Keira left Juliet’s baby mobile sheet music under her windscreen wiper, put the news clipping in the museum locker and sent her self the key (to locker ‘B4’ incidentally… or maybe ‘before’) and made the dummy with the picture of Keira’s face stuck to it, with a plastic bag over its head in mimicry of the season one murderer MO. By the end, when Marcella had retaken control, ‘Keira’ promised she would always be there to help her cope with her pain. 

Is Marcella wanted for murder?

She fatally shot Finn, but the only witness to that is DI Rav Sangha, who may or may not be dead himself. If Rav survives, is he likely to rat out Marcella for offing such a monstrous ballbag as Finn Maguire? Shouldn’t have thought so. 

Where did Marcella take baby Katy? 

Your guess is as good as mine. A tattoo remover, perhaps? Before he was abducted, Bobby Barrett was supposed to be going to a new life in Havana, Cuba (where he hoped to meet Fidel Castro, who died in 2016. Never the sharpest tool in the box, Bobby.)

Was it all a dream?

Go back through the season, and you’ll see that almost every episode opens with a close-up of Marcella’s eyes opening as she wakes up, hence: all a dream? It would explain a lot, including any unanswered questions viewers might have about that tattoo, the flip-flopping hair colour, why Keira crashed her Mini Countryman, exactly when she and Finn “I’ve missed this” Maguire started sleeping together, why Jack instantly forgot about his dead daughter, what happened with the drugged mayor and the dead journalist, where Keira got Danny’s toy gun, what the spaceman curtains at the safe house were all about, where Rav got a hotel room’s worth of Marcella and Jason’s family photos, where DCI Laura Porter actually was… all that and much more.

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All episodes of Marcella season 3 are available to stream on ITV Hub in the UK and Netflix in the US.

The post Marcella Season 3 Ending Explained: Murders, Money and the Mystery Caller appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[theothermasquerades]

farewell on a rooftop

Short story ~ 10/2/20

As I sat on that rooftop waiting for Alex, it started to rain. I did not mind.

I looked up at the sky, leaning right back to peer past the plastic umbrella that was doing very little to protect me from the coming storm. Dark skies. Good - it was going to pour.

I sat forward again, checked the door, then relit my cigarette. It had gotten a little wet from the drizzle, sagging sadly in my mouth, but sprang back to life when I inhaled smoke and warmth. I was sitting in the smoking section of The Ascot, the university local; not the bar within the grounds of the university, but one five-minutes north, where the drinks were cheaper and the staff weren’t dicks. As the name might suggest, The Ascot was a big racing pub, filled with middle aged men watching horses on televisions. Whenever I walked through the gaming section of the place I couldn’t help but think of the girls in primary school who were equally interested in horses, and how much such a comparison might annoy those present. The whole square footage of the ground floor was devoted to gambling, forcing perpetrators of that other sin – the smokers – onto the roof, where the furniture was much less comfortable. Not that we were ever discouraged from smoking. I would have chosen the furthest spot from the horse boys in any case.

I looked around for my bag of tobacco to roll another cigarette while I waited, but the idea was suddenly rendered obsolete. Alex walked through the door. I smiled, as I always did in his presence, forgetting my nicotine cravings entirely.

Rain was still pattering the umbrella above me. It hung in Alex’s mop of dark hair; tiny droplets which dripped down my back when we hugged hello. His chest was warm. I tried to banish the thought, but before I could, another; He smelled fresh, like clean bedsheets. I held my breath, and hoped the morning’s perfume was doing its duty. Alex didn’t smoke.

“Sorry I’m late, forgot I had to return my library books. Can you imagine the late fees if I’d accidentally packed them?”

Alex had flown over from Wellington to study Jazz when I’d flown from Hobart for the same reason. The course was considered quite prestigious by some, but the presence within our number of a small group of fucking morons had really shattered any illusions of grandeur early on. The course couldn’t be that good if they’d accepted Seamus. This was probably a good thing for me; the surest way to destroy my performance in any field was to suggest that I might be uncommonly good at it. I thrived at being mediocre, and so had made a reasonable pass at playing piano the past three years. But it was all over now. I was staying in Melbourne. Alex was not.

Alex brushed rain from his hair and made a joke about his terrible packing. I laughed, and made some blithe remark about “it all being real.” It made my chest tight. I immediately wished I’d said something stupid about the weather instead. Something to keep the intensity of the situation at arms length.

“Yeah, I know. Nice of you to… glad we could grab a drink before I left. Can’t say I’ll miss this place though.” On cue, the umbrella above us sagged and dribble water down Alex’s shoulder. We laughed.

Maybe it didn’t have to be real if we didn’t look it square in the face. Fantasies like “we’ll meet again” and “I’ll stay in touch!” Could be bandied about as if we actually believed them. I thought of sitting on this hard wooden bench in two weeks with the other people I’d met in Melbourne, the vapid, the self-obsessed, the boring, while Alex was in New Zealand, saving to move to America. My back hurt.

“Do you want a drink?”

I got up as fast as I could and grabbed my wallet while he was still fumbling for his, his gentle protests following me to the door, but not beyond. You always had to fight Alex to pick up any kind of tab. I turned back to look at him through the windows as I stood at the bar. He was facing away from me, looking out over the neighbouring rooftops. He wasn’t checking his phone or watching the sport on the small outdoor screens, he was just… looking. I took a deep breath, in through my nose, out my mouth. My pulse was buzzing. Why? The awkwardness of a permanent goodbye? Or…

I couldn’t supply the answer.

Bearing two pale ales I headed back to the table, spilling a little down my fingers when I moved too fast. He jumped slightly when he heard me, and plastered a smile over some other emotion. I offered some lame joke about my waitressing skills. Then we drank. I think we were both searching for something to say. Our eyes met and I looked down quickly into my beer, watching as the larger bubbles in the foamy head popped. When they were all gone, I spoke.

“You all packed then?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I leave first thing.”

“So, no wild night out on the town then?”

“Hah. I wish.” Our eyes met briefly again, and I had the faint impression there was something he was trying to say.

Alex was a rare man. He never made anyone feel less than they were. He was a genius, but in a way that appeared to other people’s advantage rather than his own. I didn’t even realise for the first few months I knew him, only ever noticing my own brilliance in his presence. There were never any flashy displays of intelligence or skill, putting someone else down. You really had to be paying attention to see it. He was sweet, maybe more so than anyone else I knew, though he had all of the advantages in life that so often made people cruel. He was tall, handsome, and came from wealth, I think. He would never say.

I blinked a few times, and to my horror discovered my eyelashes were wet. Tiny droplets joined the rain water on the table, my skin. I looked out over the tree tops, twisting my head most of the way around. I focused very hard on two birds circling one another in flight, circling or mating. It was hard to say.

“I don’t know what to say.” “Not much to say. It sucks.” “Yeah. I hate it.” “I’ll miss you.” “You too.” “Who will laugh at my terrible jokes now?” “Who will nod thoughtfully at the stupid things I say, more like.” “Well, I’ll have to come back and visit, then.” “Yeah. Maybe I’ll visit you.”

It was the wrong thing to say. We both knew it was never going to happen, and The Reason Why seemed to enter the space between us with my words. Alex’s smile stiffened, but his tone remained casual.

“Give my best to Felix, won’t you? I’m sorry I won’t get to say goodbye.”

And suddenly I understood something that I had only ever guessed at before. I saw the feeling behind his smile that I knew so, so well; the pain of loving someone who couldn’t love you back. Suddenly I knew.

I smiled back, without teeth. My lips wouldn’t open. “Yeah, I will.” The words were heavy, almost throaty.

I rolled a new cigarette, taking far more care than I normally would, as we spoke of inane things, things I hardly noticed. As I fiddled with the filter I stole another glance across at him. The sudden revelatory emotion had all but vanished, as he asked me about upcoming projects and mutual friends. I began to think, hope I had imagined it. I took him in properly for the first time all day. He was wearing his normal unbuttoned shirt and suspender combination. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone else in real life who wore suspenders unironically. I used to think it was a dumb affectation, before I got to know the bloke. It occurred to me that Alex was exactly the guy I had always pictured myself ending up with. Suddenly, unbidden, I began picturing what a life with Alex would look like. I saw conversations on shared interests, about books, art, history, philosophy. We really were astonishingly similar, though his temperament was much gentler. I saw him cooking me dinner and travel to exotic places. No more arguments over Felix’s financial situation or his inability to boil a fucking egg. I saw peace, with Alex, my beautiful friend, the most patient man I had ever met. And how happy we could be.

“You don’t believe I would come to New Zealand.” The remark surprised him. He looked up at me then, then looked away again to drink from his beer.

“No, I guess not. Would you?”

The question came wrapped in a sardonic smile. He was asking about more than just a holiday. I felt blood rise in my cheeks, as lust flooded my body. For the first time, I wanted him. I was overwhelmed with desire, to go out of limits, to have that which I should not, could. I didn’t even try to stop the thoughts; how good it would feel. How bad and how good. I drank from my own beer, the icy liquid cooling my chest and but heating my blood. I thought of kissing him and it was as though I’d never wanted anything else quite that much. I answered his question quietly.

“I don’t want to think I’ll never see you again.” My lips were wet. I felt myself blush.

Alex seemed to have to make himself look away from my mouth. He was suddenly laughing, and to my surprise, now it was his eyes filling with tears. He clenched and unclenches his fists, and finally spoke. “If I didn’t like your boyfriend so much I’d kiss you right now.” From another man, it would have been a suggestion, almost an invitation. But Alex was being perfectly serious.

“I like you, Alex.” I tried to take his hand, but he pulled it away from me. I felt like I’d been slapped in the face.

“Maybe. But you love Felix,” he said.

Shame overwhelmed me. My cheeks burned and I stared into my lap. He was right. Felix, upon whom I was constantly looking down. Funny, kind, childlike Felix, who didn’t know how to file a tax return, but who was good to me, and whom I loved beyond all reason. Who was unlike anyone else I knew. If I chose Alex, I would have less pain, but also less joy.

And I saw myself suddenly, between these two men, best friend and lover, in the certain knowledge that I deserved neither of them. Alex looked back at me, his eyes still red but not wet. “I won’t forget you, Jess.” But I knew that he would, and for this at least I was glad.

He got up to leave then, and the rain started falling very heavily. I lit my new cigarette.

[therubyritual]

0173

Because of its length, 0173 will be going below a readmore.

0173 Use the darkness as an excuse to hold onto the Blake's hands. Gotta keep track of where you each are in pitch darkness..! Wait, wouldn't they be able to see in the dark better than you? Ask Demon Blake what your new friend looks like.

You quietly find both Blake’s hands in the darkness and take hold of them. Neither of them object.

“Hey Blake, can you tell me what this person looks like?”

“Not a problem,” responds demon Blake. “They look like… They’re just… Alright, their hair is… What? I… I can’t seem to…”

”You can’t remember can you?” Says the voice. “Even while you’re looking right at me you just instantly forget what I look like. Don’t worry, its me, not you. I’m sure you know how hard it is to remember a dream you just had, well its like that with me. Because of how long I’ve spent in here, my identity has slipped away. I’ve forgotten my appearance, my name, even my gender, at least, if I had one in the first place. The only things that truly remains of me is my hatred for the one that put me in this place, and the memories that remind me why I hate him so much. Don’t worry about it happening to you though, you’ll be fine as long as you don’t become a long term resident.”

0173: Ask what their name is. And... ten thousand years????

0173: For starters, who are you? Who was that presence? Why would you help us? What is going on around here?

“What can you tell me then?” You ask, feeling more than a little weirded out. “Like what the heck was that about you being here for ten thousand years?! And what the heck was that… thing?”

“Both of those are very good questions kiddo!” The voice declares. “I’ll answer them to the best of my ability, although it’s a bit of a long story.”

“Years and years back, I was a human. I would still like to say I am, but after so many years in this dream world, I’m not sure I qualify anymore. But in any case, back then I was some kind of soldier, or hunter, or something like that. Whatever I was, I fought demons. One day, some morons decided to try this massive ritual, to bring through a demon that was stronger than any that had ever been seen, save for in legends. We nicknamed it ‘The King’.”

“The King?!” Both of the Blakes suddenly blurt out at the same time, reminding you that despite everything, they are still one and the same. “You mean the titan? That King?”

“Titan? Is that what they’re calling him now? I’m not entirely sure if we’re talking about the same demon, but this one was really strong. It had the power to control people’s minds just like that.” They snap their fingers. “Even if someone got past his army of mind-slaves, he’d just take control of them.”

”How did you beat him?” You ask, fully engrossed in the story. “I mean you must have right? Otherwise he would have just taken over the world.”

The voice chuckles once again. “Well, not to blow my own horn or anything, but I was one of the few people that could actually come face to face with The King without getting controlled immediately. There were about twenty others, but I’m ashamed to admit that I forgot about most of them. There was this one dude with white hair, and a pair of really scary ladies with these enormous scythes…”

”That’s just like me! I use a scythe!” You say excitedly.

“Really? Well you have a lot to live up to. These two, twins I think, were absolutely terrifying in a fight. But in any case, a big final battle was going on, The King’s army versus all that humanity could muster. While it raged, our group snuck around to take the fight right to him.”

The voice sighs. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he was even stronger than we thought, even without his mind powers. Soon enough, it was only me, the scythe twins, and the white haired dude left. However, just as all seemed lost, the white haired guy damaged his host body. We thought that things were finally turning around, but he just decided to take another body. Namely mine.”

All of a sudden the voice bursts into laughter, a stark contrast to the sombre voice that they had used during the story.

”That was my shining moment, the moment that we were able to finally beat him. I didn’t let him take me without a fight you see, and during the time while he was trying to overtake me, the twins were able to deal a blow that damaged him right down to his soul.”

“Damaged his soul? I didn’t realise that something like that was possible for a human.” Said one of the Blakes (its getting hard for you to tell which one spoke in the darkness).

”I didn’t either, but they did it. We won the fight, but The King escaped, wearing my body, and using my name. He couldn’t destroy me, but he trapped me in this dream world, a sort of eternal torture chamber for people he really dislikes, that’s powered by a dream demon. Although he escaped, he had been rendered almost powerless, and with every passing year he got even weaker. Eventually he couldn’t even enter the dream world without fear of getting stuck in here. He only started to come back a short while ago, a decade at most, with the help of that Emerald girl. They’ve been using the dream to slowly recondition a bunch of people that they’ve brought in here over time. For what exactly, I couldn’t tell you.”

”And that’s my story. I’ve been waiting for ages for someone to finally unlock that door so I can escape and take down that bastard for good, and now you have! Cheers kiddo!”

0173: Ask for information on this twisted prison. As a long-term resident, they'll probably have at least most of the answers.

“No problem, but we still need to wake up the dream demon so that we can all escape right? Do you know where it might be, or anything else that might help?”

“Of course I know! I’ve learned everything I can about this place in preparation for escaping. To find the dream demon, just exit this cell, and take the first right, and then the next right, and the next, and the next, and the next, and…”

”Wait hold on, won’t that just send us in circles?”

”It would, in the real world. But this is a dream, so it doesn’t have to make sense. The beauty of this trick is that it even looks like you’re going in circles, so anyone who is just randomly searching without knowing the secret, would almost certainly never find the right path, as they would think that they were going in circles, and take a left turn, or go straight, which would break the path.”

”Oh wow, thanks for telling us.”

”No need to thank me kiddo, I need you to do this as much as you need to. In any case, unless there’s anything else, you should probably get to that demon so that everyone can go free.”

Is there anything else?

The number is 0174.