#I have an art post ready that I might post tomorrow cause I might take a 14 hour nap

[vibratingskull]

Yandere!Thrawn x f!reader

A gentleman. That's what crossed your mind when you met him.

Calm, collected, efficient, respectable and always polite. To say you felt safe when he's here is an understatement. Always three steps ahead, you follow his orders with loyalty and fully trusting in his capacity to bring you victory and keep the crew safe.

You catched his eyes as a lieutenant when you dared contradict him on one info he got wrong. He simply asked you to develop your reasoning but he finds himself curious about you since then.

He always congratulates you when you succeed in your missions, and you proudly accept his praises. What a wonder to be appreciated by a man of his grandeur. You always do your best to be worthy of his praises and he do notices

You always seem to feel a burning gaze at the back of your neck when you sit at your console on the bridge.

You're always the one bringing him the datacards each evening in his office. You don't know why, it is more of an ensign job than an officer like you as low rank as you might me. But orders are orders.

He always greets you with a grin, flashing his teeth.

One evening you bring him the cards he invites you to stay and observe the art he recently collected from your enemies "I must form my officers to my techniques and tactics" he explains.

So you stayed late trying to decipher the piece, trying to see what he sees. You're so concentrated on the art you don't notice he's only watching YOU behind your back.

What a pretty neck you have... what a delicious curve it draws under your strands of hair...

Would he dare and dig his teeth into your flesh right here and there?

No...

You admit you don't see anything and he just smiles at you. Not to worry, you can always learn tomorrow, and the day after, and the one after, and after again...

You take that really seriously, he took time off his busy schedule to teach you something important. Surely he's seeing potential in you to be a great officer! What else could it be?

If only you knew...

It's weird though, cause when you speak about it to Faro she tells you he never tried to teach her anything like that.

You continue to come and try to learn each evening and he patiently explains to you, develops his reasoning, exposes his ideas, shows you the thread of his thoughts. This is so interesting you drink his words, utterly fascinated by his intellect. How lucky you are to learn from such a man!

You end up spending so much time with him, you slowly start to relax in his presence.

It's not that he is scary, but he's taller and larger than you and so intelligent. His muscular stature is intimidating and with his burning red eyes you feel he could strip your soul naked, gulp you down and devour you in one go, like a carnivorous predator.

And those canines...

You still don't understand how he does his trick but you sharpen your mind and tactical abilities and he appears really pleased. "You do not understand my ways but you are a competent officer on your own terms and I take pride in having you in my crew. Together nothing could stand in our way." he tells you one day and it gorges you with pride. You smile and flush at the compliment.

His heart flutters at your reaction. Sometimes he loves you so much he wonders how your blood taste...

He asks your opinion on the bridge at Faro's dismay, riddles you his trick questions, stimulate you intellectually and always smiles when you give him a good answer. If you're wrong it is okay too, just another subject he can teach you during long hours in his office.

But something's bugging you : You see all your colleagues rising in ranks and changing posts but you remain at the same place, not understanding what you're doing wrong. You came to Thrawn with hope, but you're quickly disappointed

"No I can not interfere in the process" he lies "You are not ready, you have so much to learn, I have so much to teach you." Don't leave the Chimaera, don't go, don't leave him behind. He will not tolerate it. Stay here, stay with him, where it is safe, where he can protect you, see you bloom and flourish. Remain with him, only him...

Because there is simply no him without you

You broke up in tears the fifth time you came to ask for his advice on how to rise through the ranks, and it stabs his heart to see your tears. "I'm sorry to cry..." You sob "But I don't know what to do anymore...What am I doing wrong?" He comes closer with pain in his eyes and caresses your cheek with the tip of his fingers, just grazing your skin delicately.

It is the first time he's touching you, he wanted this first contact to matter and even though this isn't what he had in mind, being present for you when you need him is as good.

Especially when he totally could have put pressure on the bureaucracy to help you. He could have helped you from day one, but that would meant seeing you go to lead your own forces, away from him. And that he simply cannot tolerate.

The touch is light and fugitive but it electrifies him to his core, emboldens him with a new energy. How good it feels touching you, how right it is... How addicting it is, how toxic. How he will never get enough of you. How much he loves you so much, how much this love strangles him and blinds him to his duty, how he could devour you right there and finally make one with you

Maybe it would end his torments? Maybe he would finally be at peace? This lingering pain in his heart when you're not in his sight, would finally be gone, his breath would ease, the weight on his chest loosen, his loneliness disappear and finally be a complete being. How perfect it would be... You and him forever.

You don't see any of that of course, he mastered the stoic mask for ages.

But you're very much two separate beings and you're very much in tears in front of him. Without thinking about it you throw yourself in his arms and cry, soaking his pristine white uniform. He remains frozen, stunned.

Is it really happening? You want to touch him? Is he dreaming?

He slowly embraces you in his arms and caresses your hair, soothing you, pressing you tighter against his beating heart.

You're crying, devastated but he's in heaven right now.

He would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant you would come back in his arms. A million time. He will console you each time with delight. It is okay if you cry as long as you remain with him.

You can't see it but he has the most elated grin.

Should he brings you to his quarter now? Should he risk it?

No, everything in due time.

You're tensing your body suddenly and part with him, which stabs him in the heart, but he doesn't show it, only letting you go with the expression of a concerned superior.

"I'm sorry sir, that was rather unprofessional." you present your excuses. "There is no need for excuses between friends" he answers with a compassionate smile.

You raise up your head in surprise. Friends? You two? You and him? You and the mighty Grand Admiral Thrawn? You cannot believe it, but he said it himself. So maybe it is true.

He did not bring you to his room this night. Simply whished you goodnight and safe dreams, but he didn’t not sleep that night.

He feels on fire, his powerful muscles rolling under his skin, his arms desperately empty.

But he's smiling. You're closer now. Soon he won't feel that pain anymore. Soon you'll be his and only his. And if you refuse...

Well let's just say he doesn't lack ideas to keep you close, even against your consent.

And soon came another great news, one that brings joy to his heart and excite him tremendously

"You didn't know I doodle in my spare time?" you ask surprised

"No." He refrains an elated smile "Why did you not tell me sooner?"

Fantastic! He can now dissect you to atoms, observe you under a microscope, understand you on a totally new level, spy on your most hidden secrets, reveal your intimacy. You'll be like an open book to him now.

But that is still an excellent question : how did he not know such an important fact about you? Intolerable!

He will install a secret camera in your room to prevent it from happening again!

He insists on seeing your drawings despite your reluctance. "I am simply curious to see what kind of art you produce." He politely presses "Will you not humor a friend?". You sigh and hand him the folder.

He indulges himself, comfortably seated in his office, unraveling your very inner being, like he is discovering you for the first time.

You're even more wonderful than what he first thought. You're definitely the most perfect person, and even more perfect for him. He is so happy!

Until he wasn't

"Who is it?" He asks nonchalantly but his thoughts are murderous. "Who?" You wonder, raising your head from your datapad. "The person you love." Your eyes widen "How… How do you know that?", "I saw it in your drawings. So who is it?"

You shift position on your seat, uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"In fact..." You say with a little voice "I think there are several..."

Oh

Oh no

@blueninjablade3, @bluechiss

[unimooshi]

I’m very busy bc I have procrastinated a week’s worth of homework, but while doing said work I thought of an idea!!

LIKE A MASSIVE IDEA THAT I PERSONALLY FELL IN LOVE WITH JUST CAUSE I COULD SO HEAR ME OUT ON THIS!! This is a long post so skip to the end for a TL;DR if you don’t wanna read all this.

Ok ok, so we all know the ship dynamic meme that’s been going around right where people draw their favorite ship dynamics. And my dumbass was just scrolling through insta, ignoring my work as usual, “taking a break”. And I see a ship meme and a scroll through and I see one where it’s like absolute feral monster/murderer x a sweet heart.

And internally I’m just like “aww that’s cute. Reminds me of Optimus and Starscream” and I do my little thing of thinking of all my ships, mainly that one tho and it got me thinking. Cause it’s pretty much agreed upon in the StarPrime/StarOP community that Optimus is the sweetheart and Starscream is the feral monster, but I was thinking what if the roles were actually reversed but we just don’t talk about it.

Like yea Starscream would murder for Optimus, but has anyone ever thought that maybe Optimus would murder for Starscream but it’s just that nobody knows it. Like they’re not truly aware of how dangerous OP really is. Especially not Screamer cause sweetheart OP is all he’s ever known so far, besides battle OP.

Like idk, I just think it’d be funny cause Starscream would think he’s the most threatening in the relationship (which he is, he’s pretty goddamn powerful) but then there OP in the back in the dark with glowing eyes staring down whoever he thinks is a threat towards them. The ominous energy if you will. The “I will fucking bury you and they won’t suspect me” type of vibe. He is extremely dangerous, but he doesn’t actively try to kill anyone. Does that make sense?

Oh my god am I thinking of a Yandere trope? Oh god I think I am hruhehrhrgrhrhhrhrbr. OK SO THINK YANDERE BUT EXTREMELY PACIFIED. THATS WHAT I MEAN WITH THIS WHOLE TEXT POST. HES A CRYPTID IS WHAT IM TRYING TO SAY. LIKE MOTH MAN OR SOMETHING. GOD THIS POST IS A GODDAMN MESS

TL;DR: OP is secretly a feral monster who would murder for Starscream and literally stare everyone down who even poses a threat to him though he acts like a complete sweetheart. Role reversal is what I’m saying.

[bush-viper-cutie]

New Student, New Friend

Pairing: Young Snape x french!reader

Word Count: 2,751

Request: #1 “Hi! Can I request a young!Snape x french!reader where the reader's transferred from beauxbatons and isn't fluent in english/has a thick accent? Love your work!!”

#2 “Hi hi! Love your work! Can I request Young Snape x French reader? Sorry if I dont speak well, english is not my first language <3”

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello everyone again! :D I combined both requests because they are pretty similar so enjoy!

Posted: 9/10/21

Masterlist

---

~*~*~ = time skip

(Y/n) = first name

(L/n) = last name

~*~*~

~*~*~ = POV change

---

~*~*~*~*~ *~

There was a strange static in the air this morning, one Severus couldn't quite place. He brushed his long hair back behind his ear and listened in to the hushed whispers of passing classmates.

"...Beauxbaton, can you believe it?"

"Nice to not know someone for a change - "

Beauxbaton? Severus gathered they were talking about a new teacher perhaps? Although it wasn't that odd to get new professors in the middle of the school year. Just last year the Dark Arts professor was promptly replaced when he went mad after a spell backfired on him; In fact, every year there was a new one.

It was strange that the new teacher should be a transfer from another school such as Beauxbaton... Maybe they were fired and no one else wanted them, must be down on their luck. And if that is the case, how very fitting for Hogwarts, home of inadequacy.

Severus, still deep in his bitter thoughts, almost tripped over the shoe that had extended out in front of him. He caught himself and whirled around angrily. "Watch it!" he growled, straightening.

James Potter smirked. "Oh, Snivellus. Didn't see you there.” His Gryffindor friends snickered behind him, bolstering his ego. "I'd get along to class if I were you. Wouldn't want to be late on your first day back."

Severus grit his teeth and did everything he could to not growl his displeasure of being in so close proximity to the pinnacle of mediocrity that was Potter. It had been a week after winter holidays had ended but after another nearly fatal encounter with Black, he’d been forced to stay in the Hospital Wing un-zippering his mouth and a couple of fingers before being allowed back.

The memory of the experience made his knees weak, making keeping his riled demeanor that much harder. He was lucky he'd had the foresight to cover his nose before Black unleashed his hex. It wasn’t a quick run from the lake to the nurse, and he certainly wouldn't have made it with his nostrils zippered together as well.

"Mind your own business, Potter." Severus spat out his name like rotten apples, furrowing his brows in an attempt to seem more threatening however he could not help but notice the hallways getting emptier by the second. He knew better than to get caught alone with Potter.

He laughed and turned to catch up with his friends. Severus watched him go, only relaxing his shoulders after Potter had rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. The hall was empty.

He turned and continued down the corridor when his hearing perked at the scuff of loud footsteps. He whirled around, hand plunging into his robes, but it was too late.

"Levipeds!"

Severus' head snapped back as his feet whipped out from under him. He hung limp in the air, watching his wand roll away on the stone floor. His hair nearly touched the dirty ground.

James laughed. "Welcome back, Snivellus!"

He closed his eyes as his boiling blood rushed to his head. He was hanging upside down in the air, alone in the empty corridor. He couldn't scream for help, he'd just get yelled at for disturbing lessons, and he couldn't reach his wand - as long as his limbs might be, his wand might as well have rolled down into the dungeons. He'd have to hang there until classes were over or one of the portraits decided to help him out for once.

"Eh... Excuse moi?" A quiet voice wrapped in a thick French accent broke the silence.

His eyes flew open and stared straight into the face of a beautiful but completely unfamiliar student. She bent down low to meet his eyes. She must be the mystery person from Beauxbaton, the new student as it turned out.

This was worse, so much worse than being caught by anyone else in the school - except for a very select few. Severus looked around in search of anything that might make this all less embarrassing.

"You need help, no?" Her voice was more confident this time, laced with a hint of friendly amusement.

"Uhh..." He met her eyes and hoped this new student would excuse his red face to be due to all his blood rushing down.

She straightened and pointed behind him. "This is your wand? I'll give to you?" His wand was in his hand with one quick flick of her own.

His eyebrows automatically shot up at her use of nonverbal spells. "Thanks," he tried swallowing but ended up coughing. He covered his mouth and performed the counter-hex, dropping to the floor with a grunt.

She rushed forward, looping her arm through his and helping him up to his feet. She laughed and dusted the dirt off his back while he stood paralyzed.

"Better, no?" she smiled, facing him a foot from his stiff figure. "I'm new seventh-year transfer... And you?"

For a moment his mouth opened but no words flew out, and then all at once words poured out as fast as if under a curse. "I'm - oh - yes you're from Beauxbaton, right? Yeah - er - yes, seventh-year as well."

Her hands flew up and she waved them in front of herself with a laugh. "Slow please!" she laughed again. "One more time?"

Severus gave an awkward laugh that matched hers and nodded. "I'm also a seventh-year."

"Oh!" she held out a paper and pointed down to the class he was late for. "I am so lost! You help me now? Oui?"

She smiled up at him and his heart nearly leaped out of his mouth. He nodded quickly, "Yes - er - oui, I'll help you... Actually, that's my class too..."

"Oh!" Her smile widened, "I need partner for the class! You have one?"

For once Severus thanked his unlucky past self. His time in the hospital wing all week meant everyone would be already partnered up. "No, I don't..." his face flushed red again and he cleared his throat, looking away. "We could be partners?"

"Bon! Lead the way, partner," she motioned for him to lead, keeping a very close pace next to him as they walked. "I am lucky to find you, did not know anyone yet. You are only third person met!"

He gave her a small smile as they walked together, but he knew it wouldn't take long for her to find out his status at the school. Being a new student, he was sure she’d make all the friends she could ever want by the end of the day. Then she'd reconsider her luck after everyone tells her all about her lab partner, 'Snivellus'.

~*~*~

They made it to class late. The professor looked up and frowned, ready to tell them off when Severus' new ‘friend’ spoke up.

"Excuse us, Professor, I am new and got lost."

The professor sighed and waved his hand, giving her a pass. "And I see you're back Mr. Snape. Get to your seats, you'll both be working together - get moving."

The two back seats were empty and Severus was glad to be away from the front for once. His new partner set down her things, and as she bent to pick up her books Severus caught a glimpse of Sirius Black glaring at him from the front, a seat behind where Severus had been sitting the last term. Black had anticipated his return and was obviously annoyed with the change in seating.

"What may I call you, Mr. Snape?" The new student whispered, giving him her full attention despite the lesson continuing.

"S-Severus." He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to him. He'd die of embarrassment if they started teasing him in front of her for daring to open his mouth. "And you?"

She smiled. "Severus Snape? That's a beautiful name." She looked back up to make sure their conversation was still private and turned back. She reached up and gripped his tie, pulling him towards her. She leaned and held a hand to his ear, moving her lips inches from his ear. "(Y/n) (L/n)."

Severus’ heart beat faster than it ever had before. The immense drumming in his ears almost made it impossible to hear her whispers. When she released him, he turned to look at her, feeling his face heat up either from proximity or from her warm breath flowing over his face. "(Y/n)... Good to know." He swallowed and realized he had not moved since she had pulled him towards her. He would have felt like an idiot if she wasn’t looking at him so playfully.

"You gonna kiss her, Snivellus?"

Severus pulled back quickly and clenched his jaw at Black.

The professor smacked Sirius' head with a roll of parchment. "Mr. Black, disturb my class again and I'll assign you an essay for every night this week." Severus smirked. "And you, Mr. Snape," the Professor smacked the board, creating a puff of chalk, "- will hand me your notes tomorrow before class - legible notes, might I add."

Severus nodded as the class snickered and turned away from (Y/n). The rest of the lesson went by agonizingly slow. Severus counted the seconds until he could run away to the library, away from taunting eyes. He hated himself for turning so red, but he hated Black even more for making him the fool.

~*~*~

~*~*~

You could tell the boy, 'Mr. Black', had embarrassed Severus greatly. He was hunched over his parchment, focused completely on the professor's words, and never once looking back up at you.

You read the words on the board but soon your eyes ventured down to look at the tall lanky boy currently trying to visibly shrink in his seat. The moment shared between you both still played on your mind. He had beautiful long lashes and deep dark eyes to match. It had been fun to see him so flustered over you, but the guilt of what you'd caused sat heavily on your chest. That boy had noted Severus had been in the perfect position to kiss her, which... did she kind of wish he had?... Just to see - for just a curious taste.

You didn't know what specifically was so alluring about Severus, but you could imagine yourself wrapped in his arms, pulling on his long hair, biting his lips, and hearing that deep voice of his purring for more. Something about him - or maybe everything about him - made you wonder how gentle those hands of his could be.

The bells rang in the distance, marking the end of the lesson. You packed your things and sat waiting for Severus to do the same. He was slow at first and then after a quick flick of his eyes up to you hurried along.

You stood at the same time and motioned for the door, scrambling to translate your thoughts into English. "Lunch now? We can sit together?"

People filed out of the class, which Severus watched closely before turning back to her and answering. "Look, this isn't the only time… I'm not someone to hang out with unless you like hexes and spells to be thrown in your direction."

You could see the hurt in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed, and his down-turned eyes filled with tears that wouldn't fall. Before you could bring yourself to respond, he sighed shakily, giving you pause.

"It's not your fault... I'll show you down and then I suggest you forget about being friends." He pulled open the door and held it open for you without meeting your eyes.

What could you say to him? You stepped out into the corridor, contemplating how to phrase what you were thinking when laughter pulled your focus.

"I see you've met our Snivellus." The stupid boy, Black, came forward talking to you but keeping his attention on Severus. He had long curly hair nearly as long as Severus' and was taller, with proud shoulders held in a loose demeanor that still made him seem important in some way. His eyes shifted to you, "Hope he didn't drip any snot on you while he tried for a kiss."

You scoffed, “You do not understand what you saw. Please leave us alone.”

“Love, maybe you’re not understanding me. For your own safety I insist YOU leave this sniffling slime alone.” Black took a step closer.

Severus pulled out his wand but held it low, at the ready in an instant. "I’m done with your games. Unlike you, you nitwitted tower troll, I have places to be." He finally glanced your way, "Excuse me," and made to leave.

Black blocked his way, laughing at the now pointed wand in Severus’ hand. "Go ahead, I’ll be glad if you finally get expelled for using wands in the corridors. Mine's not even on me."

You eyed the smirk on his face and the tiny shift of his hand towards his trousers pocket. Was that a lie then? Whatever the case, you had enough of this game too. "My friend, Severus, is showing me to lunch. We are going now." You stepped between Severus and Black, giving the taller boy an annoyed look.

"I’m telling you, be careful," Black chuckled. "He might try to kiss you again if you’re too nice."

You paused and stepped back, looking up at Severus, whose eyes were fixed on Black, staring daggers into him. You bit your lip and chuckled the same way Black had, finding a different kind of amusement than him in this situation. "I hope he will."

Severus' head snapped to you, his cheeks slowly going a light shade of pink all over.

Black made a disgusted sound and a show of his fake nausea. “Darling, I don’t think I understood you correctly. Check your dictionary and if that’s not the problem maybe your eyes.”

This boy was really getting on your nerves now. If you’d been back at Beauxbaton you’d’ve already hexed him into a soggy pile of starter yeast, baked him into the perfect Pain au Levain, and chucked him out the tallest tower window. “Move it,” you made sure your French accent coated the word heavily.

Severus’ hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you back. He kept his wand and eyes trained on Black but spoke to you. “Go down to lunch. I’ll stay here to have the chat Black so desperately wants to have with me.” He looked up again, “Let her leave.”

Black smiled, “That’s fine. Been meaning to ask how your winter holiday was after I last saw you.”

You turned to Severus, ready to protest when the door to the classroom opened, cutting Black off. You all stood very still and awkward, hoping to hide the atmospheric hostility that had been created.

The Professor locked the door with a flick of his wand and looked at everyone with concern. "Off to lunch, no need wandering the corridors. Now." He ushered everyone down the stairs, walking close behind in equal silence.

You reached the floor second to last, after Black and then Severus, and pulled on Severus' arm the second your Professor had turned towards the staff room. You kept your hand on him to make sure he didn’t decide to leave before you could talk to him. Before Black could step towards you to continue the ‘conversation’, other Gryffindor students pulled him towards a small crowd gathering across the floor. Whatever it was seemed to be of higher interest and he left with only single backwards glance.

You both watched him go dissolve into the rowdy group and suddenly the air around you shifted. Severus turned instantly, searching your eyes with an intensity you could almost feel. You blushed and slid your hand down his sleeve and lingered on his bare hand. Neither of you said a word but the electricity connecting your eyes and the comfortable silence that enveloped you both spoke volumes. "We could eat together, no?"

His eyes settled on your hand still on his until you let go. "Oui," he whispered with a smile pulling at his lips. “Lunch then.”

As you both walked on, he slowly crept closer with every step, making your shoulders brush against his arm. His pinky tickled the skin on your wrist, making you cough to hide a giggle as you entered the Great Hall. Your eyes flickered up at his and you smiled, seeing a gentle blush and an even gentler smile on his face.

~*~*~*~*~ *~

Masterlist

—-

General taglist:

@setsuna-meiou31

@severuslovebot

@bionic-otp

—–

[strawwritesfic]

Bucky Barnes x Female!Super Soldier!Reader: It’s a Small World After All

Summary: “All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” –The Divine Comedy

Request: Bucky rescues a female super soldier that he trained for Hydra.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (bad language, references to torture; references to brainwashing and mind control; Steve & Natasha & Bucky friendship; set post-Captain America: Civil War; not Infinity War compliant)

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

It’s a Small World After All

The world had been so small when Bucky Barnes had been a child. His life formed a well-worn path between his family home, his school, and his best friend’s apartment. Moving between these locations had been as easy and as natural to him as breathing. He considered only passingly the possibility of seeing more of the world—until that small world grew larger for him and that breathing got a lot less easy.

Why had it been that he had thrown himself into that new open space? Had it been patriotism? Belief in the cause? Or some long-buried, selfish feeling that he deserved to know more than late hours working at the docks to ensure Steve would have medicine and art supplies in the coming days?

The latter had been true, Bucky decided decades later, because punishment followed swiftly and extensively. His choice cracked the world open like an egg. He felt every continent beneath his own two feet; many countries felt his impact even if no one there spotted him. Though the earth was huge, he was a big part of it.

That was what they had told him, at any rate. Now he knew the truth: The world was small and he was smaller still. Countless countries. Innumerable gunshots. And yet he found himself back at the very beginning, back where it all started, back at the very gates of his own personal hell.

“I guess Dante was right about one thing,” remarked the woman at his shoulder.

Natasha Romanoff’s already diminutive stature looked all the tinier swallowed up in winter gear. The few visible strands of her hair looked like bright bleeding cuts against her pale face, so great was the contrast between that and the snow-patterned camouflage that covered her from head to foot. White flakes of snow clung to her long, upswept eyelashes, and every breath she exhaled released a small cloud of moisture toward the stark white sky. She was cold—and yet, despite being much less dressed for the weather, Bucky felt nothing at all. No cold. No nerves. Just a dead resignation deep within his tired bones.

“You don’t have to go in there,” she added at his silence. “We can take care of it from here.”

Before Bucky could so much as open his mouth to reply, a large hand covered his shoulder and drew him up short.

“No, we can’t,” said the owner of the hand.

Steve Rogers shot Bucky what was almost a familiar smile, but far too small and grim to ring any of the bells in the latter’s shoddy memory. He’d already slipped into Captain America-mode. Bucky would have expected that to take a little longer since Steve, too, had forgone his usual lurid costume for something a little warmer. Still, it was enough. Maybe it didn’t remind Bucky of their childhood; it still reminded him of following Steve through Purgatory. It also reminded him he couldn’t just stand there staring into the distance all day.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said at last, shifting his shoulder just enough to get Steve to drop his hand. Good as it felt, Bucky worried that an anchor would only hold him back.

Steve understood, or Bucky assumed he did. He thought he saw the start of a real smile on Steve’s face, but then Bucky’s eyes fell again on the entrance to the low metal building that sat half-hidden in ice far ahead. Bucky had gone inside there once—and he’d never really come back out.

“If you’re not ready, we can come back tomorrow,” Steve said.

“No. Too much time’s already been wasted looking for this damn place. If they have any idea we’re around, they’ll pack up and we’ll have to start over from scratch. We might already not have got here in time.”

“It’s not your fault they wiped your memory of this location before bringing you stateside,” Natasha said sympathetically.

Wasn’t it? Bucky felt it must have been. All of this information had been inside his head the entire time. Shuri should not have had to shake so hard to pry it loose, especially since she hadn’t liked shaking so hard to begin with. If he had wanted it badly enough, surely he could have spared her the pain. He should have known they’d bring him back here somehow.

Natasha touched him on his flesh hand. “You don’t have to do this, Jim.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Jim—”

“He knows the risks, Nat,” Steve broke in.

“I’m not concerned about you getting hurt. You going back in there…I wouldn’t go back inside Red Room for something like this.”

“Sure you would, if it was Clint or Steve or Sam in there. Or me.” Bucky forced a smile. “It won’t work without me there, Talia. You know that.”

She turned to Steve imploringly. “Steve, you can’t honestly tell me you’re okay with this.”

“It’s not my favorite idea Buck’s ever had,” Steve confessed, “but if there’s even a chance he’s right, we’ve got to do this. And he has to be here. She’s not going to come with either of us.”

The nod Steve and Bucky shared seemed enough to get Natasha to drop the subject. Bucky knew she wasn’t really convinced, but she was outnumbered. Considering that every minute they spent arguing was a minute she had to remain outside in the cold, outnumbered might convince her to do something she otherwise wouldn’t.

“What’s our plan, then?” Natasha asked.

“No one’s come out to greet us yet. You think they know we’re here?” said Steve.

They both looked at Bucky as though they expected him to lead—not only to lead but to remember. Even his recovered memories remained coated in a haze of drugs and electricity and madness. To ask him to know where to go inside that building seemed ludicrous to him. To ask that he take charge seemed more ludicrous still. He was not a leader. Following defined his life.

For the first time that he could remember, he felt a stirring of nerves deep inside the pit of his stomach. Whether or not he could lead was irrelevant. Unless he wanted to spend all his life herding goats on the outskirts of Wakanda, he had to prove that he was capable of more. This was his first mission since the terrible fight with Tony Stark, and Bucky’s first personal mission since the same. Much more remained at stake than his future occupation.

“I’m headed to the back,” he said at last, “as deep and as far as I can go. Alone.”

He paused to allow either of his companions to interrupt. Neither did.

“It’s an old base. I have no recollection of being here after the first few years. They’ve probably retreated to this place after the Avengers destroyed so many of the others. There might be some defensive wards in place, but they’re likely to be minimum if the people here have bothered to update them at all.”

“Any Enhanced?” asked Steve.

“Other than her?” Bucky shrugged.

Not for the first time, he realized how blind he really was going into this. Time was of the essence. He had rushed not only himself, but Shuri and Steve and Natasha and Sam as well. If any of them died because Bucky wanted to chase ghosts…

Again Steve placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve faced unexpected Enhanced before. This base is too small for us to be overwhelmed. Natasha and I will make sure you can get where you need to go, whatever happens.”

“That’s all I need.”

There was no more procrastinating to be done. All those nerves Bucky had felt earlier crawled across his skin; he felt like he might scratch himself to ribbons if he stood there a second longer. He took his first step forward. Then another. Then another.

“What do we do if we find that chair?” Natasha called after him.

“Do me a favor.” Bucky cocked his gun. “Break it to bits.”

The snow swallowed him up shortly after. Nothing remained in the world except for Bucky and the dark shape in the distance toward which he trudged. No sound cracked the muffled quiet that descended upon him, save for his steady breathing and the vague pounding of his own heart inside his ears. How often had this fog of nothingness surrounded him before? Screaming, followed by silence, followed by blood—an easy, endless loop.

Bucky shook his head to dislodge his fuzzy thoughts. He was not falling back; he was moving forward. There was a marked difference between being dragged into Hell and storming its gates. Natasha and Steve would not be far behind. They were only waiting just outside of the range of any possible thermal imaging cameras Hydra might have until Bucky’s arrival distracted any waiting agents. That meant that he was not really entering this pit alone. Nothing was going to happen to him. More importantly, nothing was going to you. Not ever again. Not if he could help it.

His forceful thinking got him to the doors much sooner than he anticipated. Two smooth sheets of metal loomed suddenly before him. He hesitated. Shouldn’t someone have made a move to stop him from getting this close without being incapacitated in some way? Sam had confirmed with a flyover that very morning that there were multiple heat signatures inside.

No. They knew he was out there. Why they were waiting, he did not know. Perhaps they were frightened. Perhaps they were preparing to shoot him the moment he tore the place open. The reason didn’t matter. Bucky lifted his metal hand, preparing to wrench the doors apart, then—

—they opened up all their own, smoothly, quickly, with no squeal of rust. White light spilled forth from the opening, blinding Bucky long enough for someone to say:

“My boy. You’ve come home.”

Whoever spoke was little more than a black shape to Bucky’s still-adjusting eyes, but they were stooped and their arms did not appear angled correctly. The voice, though—Bucky knew the voice, old and wispy though it might have been. It was this familiarity that caused him to obey when the voice went on:

“Come in, come in from the cold. Let me take a look at you. It’s been a long time.”

In Bucky went. His feet had crossed this same threshold dozens of times. They could do so again a dozen times more. A stillborn scream froze inside his throat as the doors slid shut behind him. At that exact same moment, a set of clammy, gnarled fingers snatched his chin and guided his head from side to side.

“Hmm. I see no cause for concern. It seems they’ve kept you mostly intact.”

Bucky snapped back into himself. He wrenched his face from the old man’s grasp, stepped back, and held his gun at the ready. The face above those wrinkled hands did not connect with anything in Bucky’s admittedly unreliable memory, even now that he could see it. All he could say for sure was that looking into the deep-set, milky eyes in that pale face caused a feeling of immense gratification to surge within him—only to be crushed at once by the strongest sense of disgust Bucky had ever felt.

The eyes narrowed on the barrel of Bucky’s M249 SAW. “Did you come here to kill me, James?” the man asked.

That there had to be a pause between the question and his answer at all shamed Bucky greatly, but his voice was firm when that answered did come: “If that’s what it takes.”

A flurry of movement in the room beyond revealed several other people to be inside with them. Men and women, all in Hydra uniforms, rose behind the old man with weapons drawn. Bucky could spare each person only a quick glance, but that was enough to confirm that none of them were you. He relaxed, but only a little.

“Sit back down, all of you,” snapped the man. None of them did. He returned his attention to Bucky nonetheless. “If that’s what it takes to do what?”

“Where is she?” Bucky demanded.

“She? Who is she?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. She wasn’t at the Siberian facility, so I know you must have moved her. Where is [Name]?”

“You assume too much. She always was the inferior model. What would we want with her now, when we’ve spent all this time waiting for you?”

“You assume too much.” The man didn’t even flinch when Bucky stepped forward with his teeth grit. “All the rest of them got a bullet to the head. I can think of lots of reasons you’d want to pull her all the way out here.”

A frown further creased the man’s face as tutted. “Thinking again, James? That must hurt. If you’ll only come with me—”

“Don’t touch me.” Bucky hit the man’s reaching hand away with as much as force as he could muster. “Tell me where you’re keeping her or I’ll blow your head off. You know I’m capable of it.”

“Not anymore. Not after you’ve let the outside world corrupt you. You used to be perfect. Didn’t you come here because you want to be made perfect again?”

“I came back for [Name]. Nothing else.”

“If you return to your chair willingly, I’ll give her to you. You can do whatever you want with her. No one will tell you otherwise this time.”

His flesh finger looped around the trigger on his gun. Probably the man was right: Bucky’s time with kind people—people like Steve, Sam, Natasha, Shuri, and T’Challa—had made him unwilling to kill another human being. But it wasn’t just that. Bucky had been a soldier long, long before HYDRA got their claws into him, but he had never been a killer. Now that he was free, he chose not to be a killer again. These people didn’t need to know that.

The old man seemed to sense Bucky’s reluctance anyway. He sighed, shaking his wizened head. “I had hoped you’d come here because you wanted to. You know the procedure works better when you aren’t fighting it. Have it your way.”

A single gesture from him had the rest of the Hydra agents cocking their own weapons and training them directly on Bucky. Before a single shot could be fired on either side, the doors behind him burst open. Steve’s shield caught the old man on the shoulder after Bucky threw himself to the side to avoid the projectile. In the resulting chaos, a grenade rolled into the room. He recognized it at once as a flash grenade and squeezed his eyes shut as he dove behind the nearest table.

“He didn’t come alone! Get them!” the old man shrieked.

Bullets whizzed through the air. The ones coming from one side of the room ricocheted with resounding clangs off Steve’s shield; those from the other hit their mark and forced whoever Natasha struck to the ground. Bucky stayed where he was, unable to find enough time between shots fired to force his way through.

Then Natasha materialized at his elbow. “Sam says there’s a heat signature by itself at the very back. Go. Steve and I will make sure that no one follows you.”

That was all the incentive that he needed. He nodded once, then rolled out into the open just long enough to throw himself down the dark maw leading deeper into the facility.

No lights remained there; those that still hung from the ceiling had burnt out years ago and were burnt out still. Blackness pressed tangibly against Bucky’s eyes, but he kept going, trusting his subconscious to keep his feet going down the right paths. He forced himself to not look from side to side. There were monsters much worse than the old man lurking in the shadows, if he would only look at and remember them.

He wasn’t going to let them coalesce—not inside the vacant cells he knew he was running past, not inside the chambers covered in blood that never quite came off, not inside the laboratories built so far underground that no screaming could be heard coming from inside them. Bucky wasn’t going to let the ghosts of his past stop him from reaching his goal. The agents spilling from doors beyond his vision weren’t going to stop him either. They fell before him, hit with his SAW or his metal arm, and did not get up again.

Farther he went, and deeper. His skin crawled at the thought of being so far from even the cloud-veiled sun above. Heavy breaths issued from his mouth as he tried to keep his mind from thoughts of being buried alive—figuratively and literally. Natasha and Steve would come for him if he did not resurface in time. Until then, Bucky had a job to do. He swallowed the taste of fear off his tongue.

“[Name]!” He could hold back no longer. Your name burst from his mouth and echoed back to him from the empty stone walls surrounding him. Here. You had to be here, yet he could find no sign of you.

“Bucky?”

The voice was so quiet that it might have been his boot scuffling against the floor. Only his automatic twisting in the direction from which the word issued allowed him to see the ghastly apparition beyond the rusted bars of a cell he’d run straight past only seconds before.

He could not quite fit the face with image from his dreams, but it was you. It could be no one else. Bucky’s lips quirked into an eager smile as he jogged back the direction he had come from, swinging his gun into place on his back as he went.

“[Name], I—” he began, but cut off once he got a better look at you.

Your eyes, dark and huge in a gaunt face, glittered faintly as you eyed him in return. Thin, bony fingers wrapped tightly around the bars.

“[Name].”

Your name was almost a prayer in that moment. Whatever you looked like, whatever reason they had to bring you back to this godforsaken place, he had not imagined you, not come here on some buried trigger Shuri hadn’t fished out, not made up a story about a girl he loved just to lead his friends to being shot in the middle of a barren wasteland. No, you were real. No amount of brainwashing could have convinced him to smell the terrible stench wafting from your emaciated body.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said as he headed for the lock.

You didn’t move. Your eyes seemed riveted to his face. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I came here to see you.”

His half-exasperated words had the exact opposite effect on you than he had expected. You did not look relieved, joyous, or even hopeful. Instead, what little color remained in your [skin tone] face drained away. Several ragged breaths tore from your thin, trembling lips; your legs quavered beneath you, only held up by the vice-like grip you had on the bars between the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Sorry?” Still lightheaded from seeing you outside his dreams for the first time since he’d fallen into to the Potomac, he couldn’t entirely suppress a hoarse chuckle. “What’re you sorry for?”

“Everything. Running away. Letting them take me. Letting them take you. Helping them—”

“You couldn’t help it.”

“Because I finally gave in.”

A hiccup interrupted the last two words. Bucky suspected that if you weren’t so badly dehydrated, you would have cried. He wished he’d thought to pack water—but Sam would have some waiting. Sam was always good at anticipating what people would need. Unfortunately, you would need a lot. Super Soldier Serum or not, that you remained standing in your present condition was a miracle.

Very slowly, he reached his flesh hand inside your cell to touch your cheek. “How long have they kept you down here?”

It wasn’t exactly fair of him to ask. Once upon a time, Hydra’s success with the Winter Soldier spurred them on to other projects. They thought of more Soldiers, enough to carry on a war. Not every single one that came after Bucky had been a volunteer. So you were born, programmed. He only hoped that enough time had passed that you were no longer conditioned to answer him. That you recognized him and had not flinched away from his touch gave him some hope of that. Still it took you some time to reply:

“Since…since INSIGHT failed. You didn’t come back after the helicarriers went down. So they—retrieved me.”

“That was almost three years ago!”

“Was it? They must come down here and feed me more often than I notice.”

Bucky didn’t crack a smile at your attempt at a joke. Nausea bubbled in the pit of his stomach. Three years you’d been down here while he ate plums and visited museums. He didn’t care if he had only just really remembered you. If he had cared—if he had really cared—he would have remembered you sooner.

“Don’t look like that.” A weak smile pulled up the corners of your mouth. “They thought you’d come back for me eventually, even when I told them the last handlers wiped your memory of our lessons from you. I was their last hope. But I’m glad, Bucky. I’m glad you were able to get away from them. I’m glad you didn’t come back for me. Maybe we’ll end up in the same place, after you die, and I can apologize for real.”

The nausea froze like ice. Not only had you been stuck down here alone for three years, you were so hungry and so tired that you thought he wasn’t real now that he was really there. Hallucinations were not uncommon in HYDRA’s Soldiers—it was hard to say whether they came from the serum or the torture—but he had never known you to have one. He himself had dreamed of Steve—or the Commandos, or you, or even Peggy Carter—arriving to rescue him, even after the pain had seared the knowledge of who those people were from his mind. He had felt them, too, heard them. They all disappeared before they could be of any help. Bucky was not going to disappear, but how could he convince you of that?

He did the only thing none of the people in his deranged imaginings had thought to do: He kissed you.

As far as reunion kisses went, it was not some sweeping, grandiose thing out of the pictures Steve and Bucky would watch at the movie theater just to get out of their crummy apartment for a little while. He could only get his mouth so far through the rust-flaking bars. You must have been startled, because you didn’t move forward to make his reaching any easier…but you didn’t back away either. Your lips were cold, and so chapped that Bucky felt the peeling skin cut into his own lips. A sickly sweet taste covered his tongue: the familiar ooze of rotting teeth.

He didn’t care. He would have kissed you in those same conditions again and again and again and again, if each and every time you would blink up at him when he stopped with color returning to your cheeks.

“Bucky?” Now you sounded incredulous, only to suddenly stop and shake your head as horror washed over your features once more. “No. No, you—you have to go. They can’t find you here. They’ll put you back in the chair.”

Even as you urged him to run as he had once urged you, you reached for him. A trembling hand touched him. You stopped only when the door prevented you from moving any farther toward him.

Bucky shook his head. “Without you? I’m not whole without you. I didn’t come here to crawl back to Hydra like a dog.”

“Then why would you come here? Why would you come back to where this all started?”

“Come on, [Name]. Do I really need to spell it out for you?” he asked.

Your face twisted with confusion. He grinned in return. After a quick squeeze of your hand, he turned his attention to the door. Somehow he already knew it wouldn’t take much to tear it from its hinges. It never would have, even before the decay set in. He had simply stopped questioning the people who told him he did not have the strength to get away.

Things were different now; Bucky had plenty of strength to get you away. All that stood between the two of you and freedom were the same bars that held him back before. Gritting his teeth, he spread his arms out wide and grabbed bars with both hands. Then he heaved.

An enormous screeching of metal against stone filled the air; debris fell from the ceiling onto his head. Bucky ignored it all. He kept going even though the noise was like a knife through his brain, until, at last, he wrenched the entire cell door out of its place. You stood wide-eyed in the empty space beyond until he casually tossed the object onto the floor behind him with a loud bang.

“It’s…it’s really you.” You lifted a shaking hand to your mouth. “You really came.”

“‘Course I did. Couldn’t leave my best girl behind, could I? Can you walk?” he added, as he came up next to you and looped his metal arm around your waist.

Though you still looked somewhat dazed, you nodded. “A little.”

“Good.”

He led you gingerly back the way you came. This walk was slower going. You leaned heavily upon him—but given that you hadn’t eaten, even your increased weight compared to other women your size could hardly impact Bucky.

Heavy breaths issued from your mouth as though every step were difficult. Still you went on. If you noticed the men and women strewn across the pathway, you did not mention them or give them a second glance. All your strength seemed to be focused on holding onto him.

“How are we going to get out, though? There are plenty of scientists here,” you said, after several minutes of staggering through the dark hallways.

Bucky stopped long enough to lift you over a particularly stout body. “Don’t worry. They’re taken care of. I brought—”

“Not one more step!”

He instinctively pushed you behind him, and not a minute too soon. Ahead, illuminated once more by the light in the front room, stood the old man that had greeted Bucky at the front door. Bruises and cuts decorated his sagging face. He would have been easy enough to bowl over, if he didn’t also have a gun leveled right at Bucky’s chest.

“I will not lose both of my pets in one go!” the man wheezed. “I may not have created either of you, but I know enough to get you back in shape. I will recreate Hydra from the ground up, and to do that, I need the Assets. You are mine! You will return to a cell and wait there until I can get you in your chair! Do you understand me?”

Neither of you answered. Bucky looked down to find you staring intently at him instead of the man.

“Would you like to do the honors?” he asked.

Rather than reply, you stepped around him and right up to the sweating man. He lowered the pistol at your approach. You simply gazed at him for nearly an entire minute.

“Good girl! You have performed beautifully! I always knew you’d bring him back to me in the end. You will be rewarded for your good behavior, I assure you,” the man said.

You smiled sweetly. Then, in one lightning-fast movement Bucky would not have thought you capable of in your current condition, you lifted one leg, slung your foot straight into the man’s windpipe, and spat in his face the moment his head hit the cement.

“I’m not your pet,” you snarled, “and I am never, never going back into a cell.”

Unconscious or dead, the man didn’t answer.

“You always were my favorite student,” Bucky said fondly.

When he reached to help you forward again, you shook him off. You paused until you were able to stand at your full height. This time you walked on your own toward the small square of light ahead. Only now that the obstacle in front of it had been removed did Bucky realize that the light was no longer white. No, it was more orange now, and unsteady. This went unremarked upon as the two of you continued on your way. Not once did you stop to breathe. Not once did you stop to look back, not until you peeked into the room and immediately drew away.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. At least, he hoped it was. He put a lot of faith in Steve and Natasha, but he was so close to a happy ending that their survival seemed impossible. Before he went inside himself, he took a deep breath.

This steeling of his nerves proved unnecessary. In the center of room, among the shattered light bulbs and twisted remains of the door, was an enormous crackling fire. Steve stood nearby, and Natasha was crouched right next to flames, unhooded, hair mussed, and breaking an oddly-shaped object into smaller pieces in her hands.

“We found your chair,” she said without preamble.

Steve did his best to suppress a relieved grin when Bucky’s gaze got to him. Bucky tried not to feel annoyed by it. Had he not just worried himself over Steve’s ability to cope with a small army of Hydra agents? If they hadn’t got over their need to look after one another after all this time, Bucky doubted they ever would.

“We got cold waiting for you,” Steve explained. Then he turned his smile toward you as you crept up to Bucky’s side. “Nice to finally meet you in person. Bucky’s told us a lot about you.”

“They’re with me,” Bucky assured you upon your nervous glance.

You relaxed at once.

Having tossed what remained of the broken chair into the fire, Natasha stood up. She nodded at you as she swept her hood back over her hair. “Ready to go?” she asked.

Nothing inside the room made him want to stay. Nothing in the room made him think he ought to. What relief! The only thing in the world that would allow him to enter Hell again with hope was you. He caught your eye before offering you his hand.

“How about you, [Name]? Ready to go?” Bucky asked.

Your eyes glided over the same ruined computers and papers that his had. Then you looked from his face to his hand and back again. “We really get to leave? Together?”

“I’m here to take you home,” was Bucky’s only answer, but it was enough.

A dry sob launched you into his arms. Bucky caught you with a laugh as you pressed your face into his neck. So what if you smelled awful? So what if you didn’t feel quite the same? You were you, and you’d be more you than ever after you’d spent a little time with Shuri. He headed for the door still carrying you like that. Natasha and Steve exchanged a look he didn’t understand, then went to follow him out of the building.

Cold wind and ice slashed across his exposed skin. He could feel the cold now, but he kept going. Sam was not so far away that either of you would freeze. The world was small, after all—so small, in fact, that Bucky’s world was encompassed in the woman he held to his chest. Bucky didn’t need to see more of it, didn’t need to make enormous changes, as long as you were always there to be the world for him. And now you would be, for however long the two of you had left in the warm places far away from Hell.

[mae-gi-writes]

Yūgen | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response. 

Requested by anon! In which Sunwoo, the ace of the volleyball team, is curious about what you’re drawing all the time. Until one day, he stumbles upon a drawing of himself made from yours truly. 

Genre: fluff, volleyball player! Sunwoo and art student reader, shy love, softness, and inspired by haikyuu because I have been obssessed with the anime lately TT__TT  A/N: It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted here! Slowly but surely, I’m going through my inbox and replying to your requests. Thank you for your patience, stay safe loves, ily all xx 

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Sunwoo wasn't artistically inclined.

But that never stopped him from admiring those that were. He was always so curious as to how just a flick of fingers managed to create a shadow, or how just one glance at a subject made it through onto paper without so much as an effort to remember the details. It was like it was automatically recorded into one's brain, hands already registered to mimic the curves and the folds and the shadows that turned into nothing short of a miraculous piece. So when he caught sight of someone drawing, it always piqued his interest. He stumbled upon you one late afternoon after his volleyball practice, with sweat dotting his forehead and his training bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was about to direct his way to the parking lot upon exiting the gymnasium, only to spot a lone figure huddled upon the bleachers and curled into a ball that caused Sunwoo to frown. Slowly sidling up to the stranger in question and peeking over the railing to catch a glimpse of your face, his eyes are instantly driven to the sketchpad in your hands.

You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like  camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that.  Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all.  But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch. 

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind. 

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips. 

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss. 

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be. 

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you. 

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences. 

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.” 

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process. 

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?” 

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face. 

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now. 

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?” 

“On what I get in return.” 

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly. 

You couldn’t help your smile. 

“I guess that could work.” 

[contorted-curruptions]

*-Mug Shot-*-Poly KiriBaku X reader-*-part one-*

Note: Surprise Saturday, I got carried away with the story and thought it might be best to section it off in two parts so you’ll be getting this one and another post tomorrow peeps, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a story like this one. Smut is not in this one so if you are looking for that you’ll find it tomorrow, until then please feel free to enjoy this. Also all characters are aged up and the time the story takes place is when they are already pro heroes, so keep that in mind.

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Running, running, the sound of bare feet harshly pounding across the hard surface of the ground below. The pavement cold and merciless on your bare feet, you feel the damage from all the running with no shoes.  As you run the sound of your terror echoes out across the soundless night, the streets so empty, not like how they usually are in the daytime. Not a soul will hear you and if they do it’ll be a little too late. It’s dark and only the street lights give you any semblance of where you are going. You hear and feel your heartbeat pounding away in your chest, that feeling becoming more painful with each pound. You feel yourself falter a bit more but you can’t afford to stop, can’t afford to stop running even for a minute. You know they have to be hot on your tail, know they won’t waste time in giving chase once they know you have fled the scene, that most horrifying scene that you left behind. The images flash through your mind as you ran churning your stomach and bringing fresh tears to your eyes. You stifle a sob but that makes your chest clench most painfully but worst of all in this panic while you turn into an alleyway you haven’t noticed the glass scattering across the entrance of the alley. Though you become sorely aware of it once your feet make contact with the shards causing you to let out a scream at the pain shooting through the fresh wounds the glass makes. You wind up tumbling to the ground, you scuff up your hands and knees as you make contact earning more painful noises from you. You fell unceremoniously on the ground in a small heap. Those sobs you kept in achingly inside your chest burst out and you howl out, hot tears now streaming down your face.

For a moment you lose your resolve while you lay there in that heap on the pavement. The pain from all the running through the city catching up with you. Your breathing erratic and you are finding it hard to catch the breath that you lost during this chase. You feel dizzy, your entire body aching in agony, and for this time all you can focus on is the sheer panic coursing through your entire form. You need to get up, need to, have to, you can’t just keep lying like this out in the open, they’ll find you. Another surge of adrenaline gives you the energy you need, you rise to your feet and start running again. You are ignoring the pain in your feet and in other areas of your body which is over-exhausting. You’re Focusing on what is dead ahead of you, a building that looks abandoned. You can focus on much of anything else except the idea of escaping, the idea you can hide and rest a moment. Though, you have to wonder what you are going to do. You can’t run forever and you doubt hiding will do you much good either. No, not when facing off with two pro heroes who are much more experienced than you. Two pro heroes and friends you never had thought until now would have done something like this in the first place and no one else will believe such a claim either. No one will convict two heroes that have done nothing but good. 

These thoughts alone left you feeling alone, so very alone. Who do you turn to in a time like this one? Who will even believe you? You, a simple book store clerk and hobbyist selling random things for fun? You are what most would call a nobody, just another face in the crowd, which is why you have to wonder what wound you up getting mixed up with these two in the first place. However, this is no time to think about that. There is no time to be drudging back into the past when what you need to focus on is finding a solution to your problem. A solution that doesn’t come easy or seemingly at all. The alarm of this chase slowly starts to dull into confusion as to why you haven’t been hearing anything from the two who should be hunting you down right now. You haven’t even seen a glimpse of either of the two males you figure are after you currently. Everything quiet and dark, not a sound, not a peep, nothing. You pause your running once reaching the abandoned building and making your way inside. You pant and groan, your lungs and everything else feeling like they are on fire. You place your hands on your knees and take in a deep gasp of breath before coughing loudly. You are choking and gasping after all that running, that dizzy feeling coming back to you. You stumble to the wall and lean against it, you in this tiring state slide down not caring about the filth on it or the ground under you, and there is trash along with other more grimy looking things all around, nonetheless at the moment, you choose to ignore it. Your body too worn and your mind still scattering about too much to really mind it all. All you need is to breathe, that is all you can think, you need a moment. Maybe if lucky, they aren’t chasing you after all. You can only hope that is the case yet you can’t be too certain so you know you can’t linger for too long.

“Fuck...fuck...it stings damn it…why…?!”

You curse under your breath finally starting to feel the glass in your feet you didn’t bother to remove before. You are fearful to even look at the bottoms of your feet right now, you can only imagine how torn up they must look currently, The blood. Looking off you can see the small trail leading to you.  You let out a small whimper as you raise your hands to look at them. They too sting badly from falling a few times before. Looking them over it seems they have been torn up pretty badly. A few rocks rest under the skin now, you poke at the bloody and bruising flesh trying to scoot a rock from under the flesh to get it out only to hiss from how it feels to do so and once more curse.

“Damn it…stings...”

You say in a whimper as you move to curl up into yourself, more tears start to cascade down your cheeks, that tight feeling in your chest returning.

“(BF/n), oh god...what am I...?!”

You curl up and start sobbing the images of your beloved’s corpse chard and beaten to a pulp on the floor creeping into your brain, it once more causes you to feel sick. It makes you want to vomit. The smell, the sight, the screaming before all that, those are things you know you’ll never forget. All of them tear you up inside, this is all your fault after all if it weren’t for taking on that project for the two pro heroes you wouldn’t have been winding up here, would you?

It had been a simple day, one like any other, the sky was bright and sunny dotted with a few clouds which you had remembered you stared up at that day. It was very nice unlike tonight, cold and unbearable regardless you remember you woke up beside your lover then. Your boyfriend had given you a good morning kiss like always ever since you had moved in together. Honestly, you hadn’t been in that house together all that long, only a couple of months but those moments spent together had been a dream. A dream you hadn’t wanted to wake up from. You would both get up and get ready to go to work. That morning you showered together, you both got a bit frisky that morning. You and your boyfriend would make out tongues danced together while your arms would be wrapped around each other. You could feel how well your bodies fit together. 

Hard to believe that is all over now, that lovely little dream with your boyfriend dead, as dead as he is now. You will never feel that perfect fit with him again. Knowing that sends another wave of pain through you and causes another sob to echo out from your chest as you shiver and wish for the warmth of your lover. Right now you feel more cold and alone than ever before.

Continuing that trip down memory lane, you could recall you left the house alone that day. Your boyfriend would take his car to work and you would walk, being that you didn’t live that far away from the book store which you work at. You can’t help but think that years ago you wouldn’t have seen yourself working in such a place and it’s not because you don’t like books more so you have problems dealing with people. It fills you with a lot of anxiety to deal with things most days. Honestly, you feel you might have just wasted away if it wasn’t for your boyfriend who always seemed to have your back when you needed it. What are you going to do now that he is gone? Are you going to spiral out of control? No, somehow you will stay strong for his sake. 

Regardless, continuing on. The day moved forward normally nothing seemed out of place, not even the random email you had gotten when you came home. The email was another commission for a project by another faceless person. You didn’t know that this request would wind you up in deep trouble later, in that deep trouble now. The commission seemed all too normal. The client wanted something special done for an anniversary gift for their boyfriend which seemed very cute to you. Really you sort of like hearing from the clients more than most do. The theme was simple it was to be a Red Riot and Ground Zero themed item or rather mugs. They wanted it to be a bit flashy or at least the art on them to be, it was something you could do, Honestly. Despite not being that into heroes, you were happy to do this for the client. You love making things and even more so making those who enjoy your work happy. So like with any other client you got to work after you sorted through the details, and actually, you were very excited. This was something you could do with your boyfriend, he was much more into the whole hero thing than you were and still are. Funny enough your boyfriend did like those two in particular. They were heroes that he very much enjoyed so that day you learned quite a lot about the pair of heroes in question.

The project went on as normal and with your newfound information, you made the gift extra special. You wanted to be very specific to the client’s taste so you tried to ask questions however they seemed very lax about everything they had said that they trusted your judgment. You didn’t mind this one bit. You had given the client updates and he seemed to like them. Eventually, the day came for the project to be done and you shipped them out. You had been very proud of your work and even your boyfriend was. Actually, Your boyfriend had got all pouty, he wished he could keep them which you had found funny then...what you would give to be able to hear him laugh again, to see that smile, and now that was stolen from you.

For a long while, things seemed alright, there had been no word from the client. However, you had been paid so you assumed they were happy with what they had gotten. It wasn’t until a full two months later that things started to kick off again. The day had started normal enough, you made it to the bookstore on time, and would work as you normally would. That day was quiet, not many customers, and most of the day spent slacked off with your coworker while doing what needed to be done around the store. Though at some point the bell on the door would sound it would call you back to the front of the store. A young man with crimson red spikey hair and eyes was the one who sounded the bell when he walked in. Upon further inspection your eyes would widen you would form a recognition with the redhead in the store, it was the hero Red Riot. You couldn’t help but stand there dumbfounded.

“H-Hello and welcome to Nook Books, how can I help you?”

That had been what you said when you finally had found your words, your voice had come out in a bit of a stutter and you had given him a small nervous laugh. He responded to your more shy behavior with merely a smile and offered up an adorable laugh of his own, which actually eased your own anxiety towards the situation at the time.

“Hey there, yeah I could actually use a bit of help finding a book.”

You would smile at the young hero and gave a small nod, you of course were always happy to help the customer, and there was no exception then either. Not to mention you were face to face with the hero Red Riot and at that time you had been oh too excited to be in his presence for the fact you could tell your boyfriend about the encounter. Maybe if you were lucky you could get an autograph, or maybe at least a picture, though to be honest you also hadn’t wanted to bother him so you so it was just a debate in your mind. you at the time though knew it would make your boyfriend happy if you would get it.

“Ah yes, well I’m happy to help, what book are you looking for?”

You would offer up one of your best smiles and try not to fidget too much however you had already shifted to and fro a bit out of nervousness already.

“Ah well, haha, I kinda don’t know…”

You would blink a moment in confusion but nod a moment before you responded.

“You don’t know? Are you buying for someone else?”

You would question a moment, you thought maybe his mind had been on someone else when he thought of the book he wanted, it might have been a gift if he wasn’t sure what kind of book he was on the look for however just as well he might just not had been sure what type of book he needed for himself, but something told you it wasn’t for him, you had a felt that way anyway.

“Haha, yeah, it isn’t for me, though he’s very special to me, he’s a bit difficult to buy for sometimes. Do you have any books that would be more action-packed and manly?”

You had smiled when you listened to his explanation for who it was for and even giggled when you heard what exactly he was had been in search for. There were many, many books on hand that could cover what he wanted but with so little given and that he said the other was difficult to buy for well it seemed like a slightly daunting task. Even so at that time you were determined to find the perfect book for this special someone that he had talked about. You smiled and worked very hard, you asked specific questions to try and get a better gauge on what type of book to get. If only you had known what you had been dealing with back then you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did to make him happy. You wouldn’t have been as pleasant to him, but sadly you hadn’t known and you had been as positive and polite as possible. You even asked more than you would have given your normal comfort zone. You had tired yourself out on one customer something you wouldn’t usually do, but you wanted to impress the male. You wanted to make sure someone like him left very happy. You did manage that, you got him the perfect book, after you found that book for him you brought him over to the register to check him out.

“I think that book will make him smile, and if it doesn’t feel free to hold me accountable.”

You would chirp out as you rang up the book, you had a good conversation with the young hero. He’d even told you his name which was interesting to know. Kirishima seemed to talk about Ground Zero. Of course, it was said they were good friends so you supposed that was only natural, and he’d mentioned a few other interesting aspects about himself which had tickled you to learn about. It wasn’t every day you could have said you got to talk to a pro hero.

“Don’t worry, I trust your judgment, I don’t think you’d steer me wrong haha.”

You would nod and laugh as you placed the book in a bag and told him how much the book would be, Kirishima would pay you and you would hand him the bag, of course surprisingly he didn’t rush off after that, he would stick by the counter a moment.

“Before I go, would you like an autograph or something?”

He had given you a big grin and you would blink, you had held back and tried not to ask because you hadn’t wanted to bother him and there he asked you about what you had wanted from him, almost too eager you lept at the opportunity.

“Y-Yes actually I’d love that, my boyfriend is a big fan.”

At the first part of your statement it would seem that Kirishima was very happy to hear what you had to say but as you look back on it now you realize that he had twitched lightly, he had made a small change in his facial expression that said something else when you mentioned your boyfriend, you thought nothing of it back then but now it was very apparent that he was upset to hear you were with someone and that the reason you wanted a picture and autograph was because of him and not because you were a fan.

“Yeah? Alright then, glad I could help you make his day like you made mine.”

After that, you would get to pose with him for a picture and he would sign a piece of notebook paper for you, it was the only thing you had on hand at the moment, but he happily signed it for you. You also hadn’t noticed that he looked for more reasons to make conversation with you but your coworker interrupted and him unlike your boyfriend wasn’t very fond of heroes so he could care less that one was in the store other than the fact it meant that the store might get a good review from someone who mattered.

“(Y/n), I need you to do something for me in the back.”

Your coworker would speak up, you could tell from the tone of his voice he just wanted to hurry things along.

“Oh, I don’t want to keep you. It was nice to meet you, (Y/n). Hopefully, I’ll see you again.”

With that Kirishima had given you a small smile and wave before he made his way to the door.

“Yeah, you too, have a lovely day, I hope the person you were buying for enjoys your gift!!”

You would call back to him before he fully left, you hadn’t thought about how he used your first name, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t then, which would come to be a mistake later, many things would lead to being mistakes you couldn’t have fathomed being so problematic. After that meet with him, you had continued work only to be nagged by your coworker about doing your job in a timely fashion which irked you quite a lot but you hadn’t let it ruin your day. Like you assumed your boyfriend would be over the moon to see the autograph and to see the picture you had been so pleased to see his smile, that night was one to remember, Your boyfriend had been so excited he made love to you. Part of you doesn’t want to remember that part, only because it’s yet another thing that you will never have from him again, and giving the current situation, you find it inappropriate.

Suddenly you hear a loud bang echo out, a growl and cussing from not too far away from where you are in the building. Your heart begins pounding in your chest, it looks like those who were chasing you after you had fled are finally here to collect you. Your breathing picks up and you move scrabbling to your feet. If you stay here they’ll find you for sure, that is all that you are thinking about, you need to escape and now.

“Where the fuck are you (Y/n)!! I know you’re fucking here, can’t hide forever idiot!!”

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit.  “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Draco Malfoy and the Parent Trap (headcanons)

Request: hc for scorpius trying to get his father back together with his dada teacher a while after his mother passing because he wanted his father to be happy and he found out reader used to be his school sweetheart before things got in their way? - anon

A/N: This is a fairly long headcanon and for that, I apologise! I had so much fun with this though! I’ve split this into sections like how I would a full length fic otherwise it’s too hard to follow, in my opinion.

Warnings: female reader, mischief and mishaps, kissing, fluff, humour, mentions of death, past relationships.

Scorpius Malfoy loved his mother; he adored his mother, but even he could no longer deny that she was not coming back. 

Astoria Malfoy had died, and she was not coming back. 

It had been years since her passing and whilst Scorpius missed her every single day, he could not ignore the fact that his father needed to meet someone new. 

-------

Draco Malfoy adored his wife; he would give up his soul to have her back in his arms where he could love her as wholly as he had when she was alive. If he had possession of the resurrection stone, he knew who he would bring back, he didn't care whether it would change her - he would have her back. 

However, Draco Malfoy was lonely. He missed his wife, but he also missed the companionship of a relationship. He missed going to bed and having someone there when he woke up wishing him a good morning. 

He yearned to have someone to hold; someone to love; someone to care for. 

Draco Malfoy simply wanted someone.

-------

Scorpius didn't really have a favourite class; he enjoyed them all as he loved learning, but he found himself drawn to Defence Against the Dark Arts when you took over as Professor, breathing new life into the subject.

“Scorpius!” You call, smiling widely as the blonde ambles over to you. “Well done! I haven't seen spell casting like that since I last saw your father.”

“You knew my father?” Scorpius asks you, shocked at the admission.

“We were very close for a time,” You admit, feeling your face flush as the teenager looks on confused, “But we drifted apart.”

“What was he like back then?” Scorpius asks before he can help himself, “Dad doesn't speak a lot about his time at Hogwarts; he says his life began when he met my mother.”

You laugh, pressing a hand to your chest. “I understand why he would say that; he always was the romantic. I was sorry to hear of her passing; I remember when she attended Hogwarts.”

“Thank you,” Scorpius whispers quietly; a new wave grief washing over him as he meets another person who0 had known his mother. 

“You’re the spitting image of your father. How is he?” You ask, needing to know.

“He’s okay. He’s lonely,” Scorpius admits, “He misses my mother.”

“As he should,” You state, nodding solemnly. “He always was serious. Even in school; I could very rarely get him to take a night off and have some fun.”

Scorpius smiles at the image conjured in his mind; the teenaged version of his father causing mayhem around the castle - it just didn't seem true. Scorpius sighs when he glances at the clock. “I’ll see you next time, Professor.”

“Bye, young Malfoy,” You laugh, thinking back to a time when a blonde haired teenager had been the centre of your universe.

------

Scorpius brings up the subject at lunch, asking Albus and Rose whether they knew anything of it.

Albus shrugs, sipping at his water before shaking his head. Rose frowns, tapping her chin with her finger. “I remember hearing my parents talk about it,” She murmurs, seeming far off as if in a distant memory.

“What did they say?” Scorpius all but demands, perching on the edge of his seat.

Rose’s eyes brighten as the conversation comes back to her. “I remember!” She all but cries, “They were discussing Professor (Y/L/N)’s appointment as our professor - they knew her at Hogwarts, you see.”

“Anything else?” Scorpius presses, already aware of such knowledge.

“My dad spoke about how he could never believe that someone like Professor (Y/L/N) would date your dad.”

“WHAT?” Scorpius shouts; not out of the slight insult to his father, but the fact that his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher used to date his father and neither said a word about it. “They dated?!”

Rose shrugs, reaching for her drink. “They must have if my parents were talking about it. I don't know how long for, but both my parents said it was the nicest they had seen your father act.”

Scorpius frowns at Rose’s words but does not comment; instead, he wonders about his father, overworking himself at St Mungo’s so he doesn't have to come home to an empty house. 

“Scorp,” Albus sings, interrupting Scorpius’ worrying, “I have an idea.”

“What is that?” Scorpius asks warily; these ideas never ended well. 

“You were talking about wanting your father to find love again... and here you are being educated by on elf his exes.”

“Okay?”

“Set them up you fool!”

“Oh!” Scorpius gasps, seeing the plan fall into place right before his eyes.

“Alright,” He concedes, “But I’ll need your help.” 

-----

The plan gets put into motion the following week.

Scorpius approaches you at the end of Thursday’s lesson, a sheepish look on his face.

“You know your father had the same expression when he messed up,” You snort, “What did you do?”

“It’s not so much what I did, but what my father would like to hear.”

“Pardon?”

“My father wrote to me yesterday asking if he could have an early report of my progress in school. Since you already know him, I thought - if you don't mind, that is - you would write to him first, update him on DADA?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course, Scorpius. I’ll write a report his evening and send it with the owls tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you!” Scorpius exclaims; eyes wide with happiness as the first stage of the plan falls into place. 

-----

Stage One: set up communication.

Draco had never sent his son a letter asking for his progress so far; Draco never rushed for academic excellence, he was simply happy with Scorpius’ best. 

However, the report would hopefully open up a line of communication between the exes which would in turn lead to something more.

-------

Owl Post arrives only once a day so it isn't until Saturday that Scorpius hears back from his father. 

He opens his letter with barely restrained glee; Albus and Rose watching on curiously. 

Inside the weighty envelope, Scorpius finds your progress report of his work in DADA but also an attached note from his father:

“Scorpius, you do not need to feel pressured to send me reports. I know you’ll try your best in every subject. You will do well with (Y/N) teaching you. She was a genius at this subject when I was at school.”

Scorpius freezes for a moment; running a finger over his father’s handwriting as he is hit with a keen sense of absence. He didn't get homesick often, but right now, he misses his father more than words could say. 

Albus reads over the letter, Rose follows. The three sit in silence as they think of their next move. Rose comes up with the idea.

“Your dad needs to reply to Professor (Y/L/N). It would look rude if he did not.”

Scorpius nods; reaching into his bag for a piece of parchment and his quill. He scrawls a quick reply to his father:

“Dad, I just thought you would appreciate the update. I hope you replied to Professor (Y/L/N), it would be rude to not have given that she took the time to write to you.”

His reply is sent in the afternoon when he treks up the Owlery, feeds a postal owl before offering up his letter to be returned to Draco. Scorpius had even tucked Professor (Y/L/N)’s original letter in the envelope so his father did not forget what she had written.

As Scorpius watches the owl fly away, he wonders whether this plan will ever work.

-----

Time passes and Scorpius begins to wonder whether the plan is working.

He watches you in lessons; notices that you seem a little brighter, that there is a little glow about you when you smile.

And Scorpius cannot help but wonder whether his father did reply and that the both of you were keeping in touch.

The hope that unfurls in his chest at the thought if his father happy again is what makes him pray to Merlin for it all to work out.

-----

It’s a Friday afternoon, weeks into the plan, when you approach Scorpius.

“Scorpius, may I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“I’m not sure if your father had made you aware or whether he was keeping it a surprise, but he’s coming to the school tomorrow.”

Scorpius’ face goes slack at your words. 

Draco had never come to the school; had not wanted to come after the second wizarding war and for good reason too. For Draco to be stepping foot back into the place he so strongly thinks hates him, there must be a powerful reason.

“Why?” is all Scorpius asks.

You fiddle with your fingers before replying. “He sent me a letter letting me know he would be coming to see you, but to also catch up with me. You don’t mind, do you? I know this could be strange for you. I’ll happily cancel if you want to spend the whole day with your father.”

The hope that had been hiding away just behind his heart begins to bloom in his chest as he takes in the hopeful expression on your face. It's then that Scorpius realises that you don't want to cancel on his father, but you would for him. It’s then that Scorpius realises that his father might just be ready for moving on.

“I don't mind at all,” He answers, finding his words truthful. “You and my father have a lot to catch up on.”

“That we do,” You laugh before smiling genuinely at the teenager, “Thank you, Scorpius.”

Scorpius smiles; grabbing his belongings and making his way out of the classroom. Stage two of the plan had begun with Scorpius even realising.

He knows exactly what he needs to do tomorrow.

-----

Scorpius barely sleeps all night for thinking of it.

He’s up with the sun and the first to breakfast as he waits for his father's arrival.

He remains sitting in the Great Hall when he begins to wonder just exactly where his father is. It was long past the time of his arrival.

It’s then that Scorpius decides to wander to the DADA classroom.

He finds Draco there in quiet conversation with you; sitting close together on the desks, hands so close touching that it almost pains Scorpius to look. 

He realises then how well you fit together; how you both balance each other out when you snort at something Draco says, reaching out to show his shoulder playfully. Scorpius cannot remember a time when he saw his father have fun; have a joke with someone.

Heads bent close together, Scorpius catches the glimpse of an indulgent smile on his father’s face and it's then that Scorpius knows that his father has found another person to love. 

Scorpius thought it would hurt, to see his father with another, but it doesn't. Instead, Scorpius feels relief that his father might not be so alone forever. 

An idea pops into Scorpius’ mind. 

Gathering his courage, Scorpius reaches for the door handle, and slams the door shut loudly. 

He covers his mouth to quash the laughter that bubbles at the sound of your surprised yelp. 

He quickly casts a locking charm on the door, remembering an advanced one taught to him by Rose whose mother had taught it to her. 

“Let us out!” You yell, shaking the door handle and banging on the door.

“Not yet!” He shouts back with a smile.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” Draco shouts, “Let us out right now!”

“Not until you get your act together!”

“What?”

“You can't come out until you admit your feelings!”

And with that, the voices on the other side of the door fall silent and Scorpius sits himself across the corridor from the entrance to the classroom. 

-----

Draco shakes his head at the audacity of his son. 

You press a hand to your mouth to stop the laughter from leaving. 

“It’s not funny!” Draco laments.

“It kinda is,” You admit, “Your son could see something neither of us could.”

“What?”

“Draco, you would have to be half blind to not see my feelings for you.”

“What?” The blonde repeats, once again struck dumb. 

You shrug, “We’ve been talking for a while and I thought there was something there. At least, there is something there on my end.”

“It’s been so long,” He whispers, closing his eyes against the wave of emotions washing over him.

Draco feels nothing but conflict; he can no longer ignore the rising affection he has for you, but with every sting of it, he’s reminded of Astoria. 

“I’m not asking to replace her,” You whisper, drawing your hands up to your chest as if protecting the already breaking heart. “I know I could never do that.”

Opening his eyes, Draco sees the stricken expression on your face and hates that he’s the cause for it. “I miss having someone there,” He admits quietly, “I miss having someone.”

“I could be that someone,” You state.

“I want you to be that someone,” Draco admits, pulling your hands from your chest, holding them gently in his own. “I want you.”

A watery smile breaks across your face as Draco drops on elf your hands to caress your cheek. “A new chapter,” You whisper, leaning into his touch.

“A new chapter,” Draco promises, ducking his head to kiss you.

------

Scorpius Malfoy misses his mother every day. He knows that she will always be with him, but he misses her nonetheless.

However, he cannot ignore how happy he is for his father to have found someone to love again. 

****

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @oopskashish @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @sexysirius @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​ @belladaises​

[clonewarslover55]

Greetings and salutations!! Would it be possible for some fluffy commander Neyo with a pregnant s/o? Cute stuff.

Spaghetti dinner with Commander Neyo

Commander Neyo X Pregnant!Reader

//FLUFF//

Absolutely!! I love Neyo sooo much!!

Notes: This may be part of a series…….Daddy Neyo anyone?

part two!

Also my friends helped me with ideas! Thank you soo much @thealluringsink and @ollovaemisc (both of them have GREAT art btw! Check my buddies out!!)

Warnings: Heavily pregnant reader, Neyo is a quiet boi, tooth rotting fluff, playfulness

You were laying on the couch, a few pillows behind your back, watching a great show. What was the show? Well you were watching your lover, Neyo, build a crib. You were heavily pregnant, and often tired, so Neyo was working alone.

The restless child shifted within you, causing you to sigh. Both of you were hungry again.

Neyo was glaring at the instructions, holding one of the pieces in his hand. “Neyo honey?” He looked up at you, the lines on his face instantly relaxing. He stood up, stretching slightly.

You closed your eyes when he stretched. He was merely in sweats and a plain t-shirt, but your hormones were too out of whack to look at your handsome lover for too long. He walked over to you, stroking his hand along your cheek.

“Yes?” He spoke, his voice as deep and as beautiful as ever. “Why don’t you take a break and we eat something?” He turned his eyes away from you for a moment, deep in thought.

“Like what?” You tapped your chin, it was a simple craving but you bet he’d want to try it. “Well….How about spaghetti??” He smiled, “Sounds good.”

“Oh oh! Or alfredo?!” Neyo shook his head, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “I’ve wanted to try both for a while. Why don’t we make one for dinner tonight, then make the other tomorrow?” You grinned widely.

Your darling commander helped you up, supporting your back as you both walked to the kitchen. “Okay! Time to teach you how to make some spaghetti, Commander Neyo.” He smirked at your words, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

After you both got all the supplies out and the water on the stove you explained to him how to cook it. “It sounds very easy.” You nodded, leaning on the counter top. “It is! Especially for a starving pregnant lady!” Neyo grinned, stirring the noodles some more.

After a few minutes they appeared to be ready. “Now to see if they’re cooked enough we throw them against the fridge, and if they stick they’re done!” Neyo stared at you for a long moment, an odd look on his handsome face.

“Bullshit.” You busted out laughing, he sounded so serious. “Just do it!” Neyo gave you a skeptical look, he really didn’t believe you.

He got a noodle on the stirring spoon, removing it with his fingers. He threw it at the fridge, the noodle hitting it with a slightly gross splat.

It stuck.

Neyo looked disgusted with his existence at that moment. You wished you had a camera to capture the look. It was a look of utter displeasure, and it was hilarious.

Neyo looked at you, a hilarious look on his face. His face just said, ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me???’ You laughed, patting his cheek with your hand.

“See! They’re done. I told you so!” You pulled the noodle off the fridge, poking him with it. Neyo scowled at that, which only made your smile wider. “Now strain it and put it back in the pot with no water.” Neyo did so, a scowl still on his face. You giggled, putting some butter in the pot with the strained noodles. You kissed his cheek, a smile twitching onto his lips.

You added the sauce and some spices, explaining how to eyeball perfect amounts. “It really depends on preference! So next time we might have to tinker a bit since we’ll know what you like.” Neyo nodded at that, smiling at the thought. He loved having a ‘next time’ He never thought about ‘next times’ until he had gotten with you.

He put some spaghetti in each of your bowls, carrying them both to the living room so you didn’t have to. You had a kitchen table, but you and Neyo preferred to eat in the living room.

It was more comfortable for your sore back. Plus Neyo liked to sit weird.

You sat down first, your lover helping you get comfortable. You thanked him and he sat down, his legs tucked under him.

You showed him how to spiral spaghetti on a fork, Neyo learning quickly. He did as told, ignoring your eager stare as he took a first bite. He chewed quickly, “It’s good.” He spoke, shoving another fork full in his mouth.

“Good!” You grinned, finally digging into yours. Neyo ate quickly, getting another serving before you were even done with half of yours. You loved your odd clone commander, even if he did eat too quickly for your cooking to keep up.

No better way to spend a lazy day with your clone commander than cooking a food he’s never tried!

Well if there is you haven’t found it yet….

Taglist: @leias-left-hair-bun @iamassbutkingofhell @catsnkooks @azem-thefourteenth @colorfulloverbatturkey @blueberrybubblesandboba @ahsokatano-thetogruta @jedi-mando @peacefulwizardfox @hounding-around @julyzaa @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @strangebroadwaykinks @jedi-nila-rhyn @fyrepen33 @mistflyer1102 @kamino-mermaid @cherry-cokes-world @cherry-cokes-posts @darmanfi @silverinkandstardust @chewychewyque @majorshiraharu @ravenpuff01 @808tsuika @commanderrivercc-3628 @captainrexstan @girlvader @ct7567329 @just-some-girl-92 @valkyrieofthehighfae @my-awakened-ghost @escapedthesarlacc @katethecrazy @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @lightning-wolffe @dominhoe-squad @qui-gon-jinn-and-tonic @marvel-starwars-nerd @mackstrut

If you’d like to be added to my taglist the link is on my masterlist! 

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

This is my first collab fic and I could not be more excited! I'm so thankful that I can be part of the group!

The AU for this month was Sex Work. The Masterlist for this collab can be found here. Please take some time to check out everyone's contributions! There are other fics and amazing art!

That being said here is my fic, big BIG shout out to @doinmybesthere for being an amazing beta reader and sweet angel bb. ily Emme!

Please please please read the warnings. They are there for a reason!

Warnings: consensual noncon, mentions of being burnt, stabbing and blood; no prep penetration, disrespectful use of the word "whore", blackmail, psychological abuse?, Mineta (nuff said) he gets what's comin to him

You’re in the doctor’s office getting a regular checkup when you overhear the nurses in the station next to you talking.

“Look! They posted the new hero rankings today.”

“I forgot those were today, too bad they can’t have the conference during the pandemic. I miss seeing Deku all cute and blushing.”

“FUCK” In your brief moment of panic you forgot where you were. You cringe and look at the nurses, trying your best not to look like you were gonna be sick. “Sorry ladies, didn’t mean to yell.” No point in offering an explanation. You wouldn’t be able to tell them anything anyway.

As you very impatiently wait for your blood results to come back you check the tacky red cell phone you have to keep with you at all times. You had put it on silent since you were in the doctor’s office and you were glad you did. Taking a quick look at your screen had your stomach dropping into your ass.

M.M: Gonna move my appointment up to today.

M.M: You better get ready. I’m not happy.

M.M: I’m sure you saw the postings. Number 36.

M.M: I made sure to pay for any accidents in advance.

M.M: I’ll see you tonight.

Why does he have to be so fucking horrible? Accidents my ass.

The messages make your skin crawl, you should have figured the hero rankings would piss him off but honestly you never paid enough attention. With a heavy sigh you opened up your web browser and pull up the list.

“Number 36...number 36…. Number 36…” When you finally reached the hero you were looking for, you let out a sigh.

Hero Ranking Number 36: The Rainy Season Hero Froppy

Well at least you had her outfit already, for some reason she was one your client asked for a lot. Not that you wanted to ask him why, not with the way his black eyes looked whenever he saw you dressed up like her.

I don’t know if I should feel glad that he isn’t actually taking this out on her. Or upset that I’ve had to deal with this for months.

“L/N, Y/N?” The doctor walks up holding their clipboard and closing the privacy screen. Your file almost too much for the metal clip at the top. “Your test results came back negative and your burns seem to have healed very well. I would tell you that any strenuous activity should be avoided but we both know you can’t do that.”

Their poor attempt at humor had your stomach rolling. “Haha anyways Doc, I think I’m gonna need another medkit to take home today. I can schedule my next appointment online, right?”

You can’t handle the thinly veiled pity in their eyes and look down, reaching over to your side to grab your purse. You hear them moving around and a dark blue plastic box is put on your lap.

“If I remember correctly this is your favorite color, right? You are able schedule an appointment online but if you would like I can schedule it for you. How about in two days? Afternoon work for you?”

You look up after clutching the kit to your chest, you know they are just trying to be nice. All of the nurses are especially nice to you and as endearing as it might be to some people, to you it just feels dirty.

“Afternoon is perfect, thanks Doc.” You get up and walk towards the privacy screen. Before leaving you stop for a moment “Blue ismy favorite color.”

As you make your way back to your living quarters you scroll through the internet looking at every picture of the Pro-Hero Froppy you can find. Your quirk can project a person’s desires onto your body by reading them in their eyes. It’s easier when the person has a clear view of what or who they want. However, your client’s desires are such a jumbled mess that it’s easier if you know what it is beforehand.

Hopefully, I can act like her enough that I don’t have to look at his desires this time. I can’t stand how disgusting they make me feel.

You pass by a few familiar faces on your way back to your rooms but don’t pay them any mind. They in turn leave you alone, most of them knowing that when you have that look on your face you were in a mood.When you first were offered a position at the brothel you thought it would be easy money. You had been stripping for several years, known for how you looked different to everyone who saw your dancing. The beautiful, enchanting, flexible Erised. You had built up your quirks ability to be able to project almost a full clubs worth of desires. Sure, it caused extreme fatigue and chronic migraines but the money you raked in was well worth it.

A few months ago

After an especially successful night a patron walks up to you after you leave the stage.

“I have a job opportunity for you, courtesy of my employer.” He hands you a card you read “Heroes Consulting Agency” in bold silver letters.

“I’m a stripper hun, not sure I can do the type of consulting you’re looking for.” You go to hand it back, but they put their hand up.

“I’m afraid I must insist, why don’t we treat you to lunch and you can listen to our proposal?”

You put your hand back down and study them. They are dressed in a white button up with a vest, definitely out of place in a strip club. You would look in their eyes, but they didn’t really have any, their whole body seemed to be made of dark smoke. You don’t work in the nicest of places so someone with their kind of full body quirk isn’t unusual.

“Alright, I give. I’m not really one to pass up free food.” The rational side of your brain is telling you that you have more than enough money to buy your own food but the stingy part telling you to take it while you can is a little louder.

“Excellent choice Miss Erised. Someone will meet you at the address on that card tomorrow at around 5pm? Should give you enough time to recover from the side effects of your quirk.” They give a slight bow and walk off towards the exit, a large something getting up from a seat and following closely behind.

Sam, one of the waitresses walks up to you with a tray filled with drinks. Her normally short stature elevated with high heeled leather boots. “Did you know that person Y/N?”

Oh man, I do not have the energy for this.

You turn to her and survey the tray before grabbing something that looked like a fruity cocktail. “No, but they offered me a job. Gonna go have lunch with them tomorrow.” Sipping from the glass you tuck the card into your bra, making sure to not show it to the girl.

“That’s weird, don’t they know you’re a stripper? What is someone dressed that nicely want to hire you for? Also did that person look familiar to you or is that just me?” Any normal person wouldn’t be able to keep up with her unending questions, but you had known her for years. The tray in her hands tips dangerously to the left but she balances it out without a second thought.

Guess she does have to be quick on her toes to be a waitress at a strip club.

“They were here for my dance so yes they do know, either way I’m getting free food so…”

She huffs, aware of your attitude for anything “free”.

You finish the drink and place the empty glass back taking a couple bills from your bag and tucking them into her apron.

“Thanks for the drink Sam, but I gotta leave before my headache hits.” You walk off before she can say anything further. You really wanna be nice to her but her endless energy really gets on your nerves sometimes.

By the time you make it to your modest apartment, you can feel the pain starting behind your eyes. You drop your stuff by the door without turning on any lights and walk to the box safe hidden in the kitchen. After you make sure all the money is secure you grab a glass of water and head to the bedroom. The bottle of pain killers already set out on your nightstand. You should really take a shower but for now, you strip down, take a few pills, drink the whole glass of water, and lay down. It takes a while for the pills to kick in but once they do you finally fall asleep.

When you finally wake up the next morning your headache is gone, and you have to piss like no one’s business. You grumble as you stretch your tight sore muscles and get up to go to the bathroom. After taking care of business, you get into some light clothes and walk into the kitchen to make some food. Thankfully, you had some leftover rice and spam in the fridge, so you pop that in the microwave. You put the kettle on for some green tea and down another glass of water as it heats up.

Remembering the offer from yesterday and the promise of free food you pad over to your pile of things by the door and grab their card. It’s sleek looking with a plain black background and silver lettering. The address isn’t something you recognize right away so you look it up on your phone.

“What the fuck?” Why is this place in a business park?

You scroll down and check the street view; the building is a high rise surrounded by a mostly empty parking lot. The entrance of the building is blurred, probably to keep the privacy of anyone entering or exiting.

“Well, I guess it’s a nice gig. Better dress the part.” Or maybe you’re gonna get murdered.

“Wow, I really have to stop watching all those true crime shows.” You put the card in your wallet and head back to the kitchen. The microwave beeps and the kettle whistles shortly after. When you’re done eating you put the dishes in the sink to soak and head to the bathroom to finally take a shower.

By the time you have finished showering the whole bathroom is filled with steam and your body has a pink flush to it. You open the door to air it out and finish cleaning up for the day. Your outfit consists of your nicest jeans with ankle boots, a long sleeve blouse and a dark cardigan. You grab one of your smaller over the shoulder purses and leave your apartment.

One of the things you allowed yourself to really splurge on was a car. Public transportation was not as reliable as it could be and with your hours not the safest either.

By the time you make it to the building the sun is starting to set, giving the sky beautiful pink to blue coloring. As you park and get out of your car a young woman walks up to you.

“Welcome Miss Erised! Please follow me and I will escort you through the building.” The woman’s blonde hair is in two messy buns, her face childlike. Her voice was high pitched enough to grate on your nerves a bit, but you ignored it.

As you follow the person through the lobby you take a glance around. Looks like a high-end hotel lobby. There is a front desk area with a marble counter top, women that are dressed in matching button ups with their hair up in buns or ponytails. Random potted plants and small trees dot the area, and a nice chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling. No one besides the women at the front desk are in the area.

“Doesn’t seem to be busy right now.” You didn’t even really mean for her to hear you, but she did, and you sounded like an asshole.

They turn their head slightly with a knowing smirk. “It would seem that way wouldn’t it?”

Conversation halts while you stand in the elevator which you were thankful for. They had chosen a floor close to the middle of the building, which gave you just enough time to rethink your life choices.

By the time you got to your floor you are tired of the silence. Normally you hate small talk, but you figured you would give it a shot. “Do you like your job?”

The woman turns to you and smiles, here canines peeking out a bit while shrugging her shoulders. “It keeps me busy, plus I get to make so many friends.” The gleam in her eyes flashes menacingly for a quick second, you decide to pretend you didn’t see it.

As you get to the end of the hall, she opens a door and gestures you inside, closing it behind you. There is a nice desk to the left of the door, other than that the room is sparce. The person sitting in the chair has quite an eclectic look about him. Grey hair parted to the side, shrew eyes behind circular wire rimmed glasses, a gold chain peeks out from the slightly open white button up with a purple blazer. He reeks of cigarette smoke the evidence of his habit tossed into the half-filled ash tray on the desk.

“So nice of you to join me Miss Y/N. Why don’t you have a seat, we can talk about your new position.” He gestures to the only other chair a smirk on his face that shows of his missing tooth.

“I haven’t accepted the job yet Giran, and I thought I told you I don’t want to work for you.” You aren’t used to seeing him in this type of place. But you do know him so there is no need to put on a show. You lean back in the chair and cross your arms.

“How rude of me, you won’t be working for me, but I have been given authority to hire for this company.”

You don’t bat an eye; most large companies use outside help for hiring. “What is this position you would like offer me?”

“This company provides heroes with a way to alleviate their… desires in a safe and discrete way.”

“So, you hire prostitutes for heroes to have sex without worrying about anyone telling the press about it.”

“That is correct.”

“I don’t know if your just stupid or if you forgot but I’m a stripper not a hooker.” You sit up in your chair fully ready to leave the room.

“They would provide you with a fully furnished apartment, medical coverage with 24/7 access to their fully trained medical staff. Any cash given to you by your clients you can keep, however they would take a percentage out of the money they initially pay for your services.”

“Let’s say I’m a little interested, how much is the initial pay for my services?” You want to deny the offer, nothing wrong with having sex for money but it isn’t really your thing.

Giran doesn’t answer right away, instead putting out what is left of his cigarette only to pull another one out of his blazer and lighting it up. “The starting hourly rate is $2,500 an hour, they would take 30 percent from that.”

Holy shit, that’s as much as I make in a day and I would be making it an hour? You keep your face neutral but something in your eyes must have tipped him off.

“You would start tomorrow; most clients keep a contract with their favorite employee and we actually have someone lined up for you already. He has extremely specific tastes and you are the perfect person to fill in.”

“I’ll have to talk to the club owner; would it be possible to start later?” You don’t want to seem to eager, especially not in front of him.

“I don’t see that as a problem, they can give you one week but that’s it.”

You stay silent, making it look like you’re thinking about it. After a moment you lean forward in your chair and stick your hand out. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

Giran grabs you hand and gives it a firm shake. “If you ever need help or have any questions call the number on the card. Now I believe you were offered dinner, let me take you to one of my favorite places.”

You let his hand go and rise from the chair. As Giran comes around the desk and walks towards the door, he stops for a moment and turns to you. “Welcome to the team.”

Dinner was actually genuinely nice; the food was good, and you were able to have a comfortable conversation with Giran. Of course, he didn’t tell you anything about himself, but you had no problems with that, you didn’t wanna share anything to personal about yourself either. He dropped you back off at your car after dinner and shook your hand again before driving off.

By the time you got home you had decided what you were gonna tell the club owner and mentally packed your apartment. Not wanting to take all of your things you moved most of it to a secure storage facility. Having had it for a few years already in order to store the overabundance of clothes you owned.

After the week was up you had quit your job and packed all of your belongings. You realize you don’t know where you are supposed to go so you pull out the card and call the number.

“Hello, how can I assist you?”

“Giran never told me where I would be moving my stuff to. Could you give me the address?” You pick at your nails while waiting for him to answer.

“Of course, Miss Erised. Will you be needing any assistance for your move?”

He sounds so polite; I wonder if he is always like this.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own thank you.”

He gives you the address and let you know that you can call if you need any additional information.

“Good luck Miss Erised.”

When you get back to your apartment you immediately go into the shower and wash up, using the tea tree oil that Froppy had said she uses in an interview.

I don’t understand how people can like this stuff, but he gets easier to handle if I smell like those women.

When you are done you towel dry your hair and make sure to lotion your whole body. When your hair is dry enough you straighten it and leave it down. He likes it better when its down.

You go to your closet and rifle through until finding the very skimpy version of Froppys hero costume. All it really has in common with the original is the tan harness and the green with black and yellow stripes. Otherwise, it is a one-piece bikini without a crotch. You grab your black leather over the knee boots and get dressed. After checking the time, you give yourself a moment to mentally prepare.

I hate this, I hate him. Disgusting filthy little bug. A false hero, a plague. I can’t wait to leave this place.

Standing in the middle of your room you close your eyes and take deep breaths, allowing your consciousness to drift. You have found that the best way to endure these sessions is to detach yourself from the situation. Only focusing on the absolute necessary and maintaining the effects of your quirk. Giving yourself another minute to get into character you walk to the door joining your apartment to the “service room”.

Thankfully, he hasn’t shown up yet, you shut the door hearing the lock click into place, the door seamlessly vanishing into the wall. Sitting on the edge of the bed you face the door that Mineta will walk through and wait.

No matter how many times we do this I never lose the feeling of wanting to vomit while bathing in bleach.

When he walks in you see that he is wearing his hero costume, as atrocious as it is. He never really deviated from the original design. You immediately start your performance.

“Mineta? What am I doing here? kero” You clasp your hands together in front of your chest and look around frightfully.

“Hello Tsu, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” He walks up, taking off his gloves and throwing them to the side.

“I don’t understand, do you know where- “Your sentence is cut off, pain in your cheek sharp and hot.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to talk Miss thirty sixth hero.” He stands there with his hand still up as you cup your cheek and look up at him, the tears in your eyes real. He pulls his hand back again as if to slap you and you flinch.

“Good girl, now finish taking off my outfit for me.” Mineta walks back a few steps and holds his arms out. Your fingers are clumsy as you take it of piece by piece.

Mineta abruptly grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks your head back. You grab his hand with both of yours trying to ease his grip.

“Do you think if you do it slow enough, I’ll get bored and go away?” He pulls harder. “Huh? You really think you’re gonna get out of this don’t you.” He tosses you towards the bed and you scramble to get back on your feet.

The tears in your eyes have started to spill over and you start babbling. “Please let me go Mineta, I don’t know what I did but please pleasejust forgive me kero. I won’t tell anyone about this just please don’t hurt me kero.”

He doesn’t answer you, just finishes taking off his outfit before he is walking towards you again, a vicious gleam in his beady eyes.

You back up until the back of your legs hits the bed. You open your mouth to speak but before you can utter a single word, he slaps you again.

“I told you not to speak unless I told you to once already. Now I’m gonna have to punish you, aren’t I?” He shoves you onto the bed and follows, using his knees to push your legs open he sits up and gives himself a few pumps.” No need to prep you, I want this to hurt.”

You are sobbing at this point, your hands covering your face when you feel him push into you. A scream rips out of your throat and you reach forward to push him away.

“You know Tsu, these meetups have been the best. I’m thinking next time I will find the REAL you and have even more fun.” He closes his eyes a leans his head back, fully immersed in only getting himself off.

To engrossed in his own world, he doesn’t realize that you have gone still. Your tears have stopped, and you have pulled your hands back from him.

DISGUSTING

“Find the real me?”

VILE

You break character, bringing your full consciousness back. You voice is just a whisper at first, so he doesn’t hear you, doesn’t stop thrusting.

FALSE HERO

“Find the REAL me?!” You are screaming at him now.

He finally stops, hearing you the second time. For a second you see fear in his eyes before they fill with rage.

MONSTER

“Hey! You better start doing the job I paid you for, I don’t come here for you to question me.” He lifts his hand up, as if to slap you again. Before his hand comes down you grab it, squeezing until he yelps in pain.

This job is over, he isn’t worth keeping around anymore.

“You think I give a shit about a little piss ant like you?!” As you sit up, he yanks his arm away and pulls out of you. Stumbling back, he starts shaking a finger in your direction.

“You can’t talk to me like that! You’re just a whore!”

You dart forward before he can put more distance between you and grab him by the neck. As you pick him up you snarl and let your quirk fade away.

“I may be a whore but I not a monster like you. You are just a fake hero, a plague on this world and I will get rid of every single one of you.” You throw him onto the ground still holding on to his neck and squeeze.

“In other news, Minoru Mineta also known as the pro hero Grape Juice has gone missing after several videos of him have gone viral. He was last seen leaving a brothel that has requested to remain nameless. The videos contain triggering scenes of the pro hero having relations with a prostitute while she is dressed in various hero suits the resemble his old female classmates. He even refers to them by name. The videos contain triggering images, and it is recommended to not seek them out. The original videos have since been taken down but are reuploaded onto the internet on several other sites. The prostitute shown in the videos has also gone missing. Any information on the whereabouts- “

The T.V. turns off, the voice of the news anchor no longer filling the dimly lit bar. The people present remain silent for a moment before a man with burns all over his body starts to laugh.

“You could have really fucked that up Doll. Good thing we got enough evidence.” You sneer at him, making sure you change your appearance to match your own desire. He flinches when he sees his own face.

“I wish you had cut him! There wasn’t enough blood to keep his appearance up for awfully long!” The young woman with two messy blond buns in her hair twirls a knife around.

“I’m terribly sorry Toga, but I didn’t have anything sharp with me.” You pick at your nails and look over at Kurogiri, who is busy pouring a glass of whiskey for Dabi. “Do I get a break after this one or do you and boss man have another gig for me?”

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Oh great, McGonagall’s back to being a bitch again in this new TLSQ 🙄

Is anyone ready for another rant? Because I've got another rant.

My friend messaged me after this quest came out and simply said "Tell me this quest pissed you off too." I hadn't seen it yet, so I went to watch the footage. Having just finished...oh god.

Going into the quest, I wasn't angry. At first, I was mostly bewildered. Unlike the Torvus TLSQ, this one doesn't really beat you over the head with mean-spirited guilt-tripping. But it does follow the interpretation that MC is to blame for the chaos. And that idea is so ludicrous that I was genuinely laughing. To hear McGonagall say "Be that as it may, your actions have caused this." Was unintentionally hilarious. What actions? MC was a bystander. They were just hanging out with their friends. Badeea is the one who painted the Portrait, and it was painted for Jae. MC didn't do anything. But the rest of this quest will send them on a wild goose chase to appease everyone else.

Here's a question. Why does Badeea all but disappear from the plot when she arguably had the most agency in this problem? Why do Jae and MC get threatened with detention...and not Badeea? She literally painted the offending Portrait. That's not even getting into how silly it is to blame the students for this fiasco in the first place, but as long as you're going to...why hold Jae and MC accountable, but not Badeea? Why does MC have to paint the portrait that will be used to distract Sir Cadogan? Badeea says that it's because her paintings are what started this mess, and she's afraid of causing more trouble. Fair enough, but that doesn't really change the fact that she is the only character who knows how to paint enchanted portraits. She is the only one with any skill in this. That said, I wouldn't change this for the world because the fanged puffskein is adorable. Let me hug him. Let me hug him! He reminds me of my kitty.

The Portraits are to blame for this mess. That much is as clear as day. And yet no one is willing to hold them accountable. No one voices the idea that maybe this is their fault, and that maybe we shouldn't be prioritizing their wishes. This is the Peeves Arc of Year 5 all over again, and people didn't just hate that arc for being filler. Why is the Fat Lady not chastised for leaving her post? Why must we cater to her demands? Why must we go on a scavenger hunt that takes all day, why do we have to play by their rules? Pick up the damn portrait and shake it until the Fat Lady and the others take the hint. Hold the damn thing over a fire if you want to really scare them. (Ruthless? Perhaps, but Gail would do that. She wouldn't actually burn the Portrait but the Fat Lady doesn't know that.) Better yet, McGonagall could solve this pretty easily by invoking teacher authority. Even if that failed, at least she couldn't very well expect two students to solve the problem that she couldn't solve...which uh, why were MC and Jae expected to solve this again?

There are countless Portraits in t his castle. Why did the Fat Lady and others decide out of the blue to leave their posts for Badeea's latest painting? This is far from the first time she's made one. This can't be the first time a painting of the Three Broomsticks has crossed Hogwarts' halls. The Three Broomsticks also isn't that exciting considering that you can paint just about anything. Why is Gryffindor Tower sealed like a Cursed Vault without the Fat Lady? Can't Dumbledore open it with magic? Can't they get another Portrait to stand in? Y'know, like they did in POA when the Fat Lady left her post? There are obvious solutions here, and unlike POA, the Fat Lady isn't exactly fearing for her safety. She's just throwing a tantrum. Couldn't McGonagall dismiss her, or at least threaten to, over something like this? The question that burns in my throat again and again is "Why is this our problem?" The quest tries to create a justification, but mostly it doesn't really care to. The reason we have to help isn't because it's our fault, it's because McGonagall will punish us if we don't.

The Portraits are whiny and entitled in this quest, but that's not even the worst part. Holy uncanny valley, Batman, what in god's name was up with that art style? Violet and the Fat Lady look genuinely disturbing, like they came out of a horror game. And you have to spend extended periods of time talking to them. I won't lie, I got uncomfortable. At least it was a distraction from the madness that was this plot. Once it got to the part where MC had to recite a poem to "Percival the Prat" I just kind of put my tea down and had a moment of reflection on how far this quest had taken us, and all of the stupid nonsense that MC was doing to appease these portraits. And all because they were threatened with detention if they didn't sort all this out, even though it wasn't their problem...deep sigh. There's a theme in this quest about listening to your friends and respecting their wishes...but this is not realized well at all. MC tried to do a nice thing for Jae and had no way of knowing it would all collapse. This situation did not arise because they failed to specifically ask Jae if he wanted their help. (He kind of hinted that he did, in the first place.)

Jae. Oh Jae. You were pretty whiny in this quest, yourself. Moping about at the start and then blaming everything on the person who checked in on you. Look, on one hand, I felt genuinely bad for him. McGonagall threatening him with detention on his damn birthday when he's always in detention and specifically opened up about how this was the one day of the year that he didn't want to be stuck there...and what he do, exactly? Not what did he do that was wrong, what did he do, at all? He was given a present. He didn't ask for it. He was simply given a present, that happened to go extremely wrong. McGonagall, what on earth are you playing at? Jae literally did not do anything, and he's a Gryffindor, so he's just as screwed by the Fat Lady's desertion as the others. I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but wouldn't it have made far more sense for the teacher in this quest to be Snape? Might have taken a bit of tweaking, but it would have been worth it. Speaking of, they had the nerve to reference not only the Dragon Club quest, but the Torvus quest. Trying my patience, game...

But even though I felt bad for Jae at first, my sympathy evaporated when he was passive aggressive, and later directly aggressive toward MC. As if any of this was their fault. Okay, so they had the idea to try and help Jae on his birthday. So? What does that have to do with the Fat Lady abandoning her post, or the other Portraits refusing to play ball? What does that have to do with the obscenely unreasonable terms that McGonagall issued? She didn't just stick this task on Jae's shoulders, MC was roped in as well. They're in this boat together and Jae blaming MC, even in the low-energy way he goes about it...just rubbed me the wrong way. I know this day was important to him...and maybe my personal opinions are shining through, but...it's only a birthday. You can celebrate your traditions tomorrow, or the next day, just as easily.

Wasn't a fan of the ending either. I couldn't believe my eyes when McGonagall asked MC to describe "what they had learned" and that she would listen, and then "decide their fate." I beg your pardon but what?! That was not the deal we made. At all. By this point MC has been running about the castle, working their ass off, just to fix this problem that has nothing to do with them. They did everything McGonagall demanded of them. They actually succeeded at this fool's task. After all of that, McGonagall is still considering detention? I could ramble about how unreasonable that is, but I think that's pretty obvious. So instead I'll just ask...aren't Gryffindors supposed to be honorable? Isn't McGonagall the Head of Gryffindor? She's still claiming the moral high-ground as she breaks her word?

Beyond that, I hate this. I hate being told to kneel and kiss the ring. Might be taking this a bit too seriously, but it's the same nonsense as the Torvus TLSQ. The same final insult, where MC is forced to write up an essay about what they learned, about why they were in the wrong, and the asshole who started all this was in the right. Not only did MC have to put up with this endless nonsense, they have to show that they "learned their lesson" and agree that what they went through was right. Or it's off to detention with them. This is why I couldn't enjoy the final party. I wasn't invested in Jae's happiness, or in saving his birthday traditions. I didn't care. I don't even imagine Luca going, I think they'd just wish Jae happy birthday and head back to their dormitory.

Y'know, I'm not sure what they're trying to do with McGonagall. I've always said that Luca's character involves them eventually growing to distrust and dislike the Hogwarts staff, minus Flitwick. And I've always struggled to justify including McGonagall in that group. Because if you've the read the books, you know she's fucking awesome. But as of recent quests...I don't think it's going to be hard for me to justify it anymore. HPHM has given me plenty of ammo, plenty of reason for Luca to dislike her. After this, and the Dragon Club quest...The Teacher Appreciation TLSQ feels pretty sour.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 21 - Losing My Religion

Masterlist; Chapter 20

Summary: After Tallinn, you use the opportunity and visit Neil’s apartment. What you find there, only increases the confusion, just as the pieces are set for the endgame.

Warnings: Swearing; angst.

Author’s Notes: This was a challenge, and it’s a little different too, a breather before the real fun begins... or something. After this we move onto the icebreaker... (and things). I’ll shut up now, hope you’ll enjoy and all kind of feedback are greatly welcomed! 

The clean up after TP’s little accident on the highway was difficult. And tiring. By the time you have dealt with the mess and could call it a day, you wanted nothing but to sleep. And also disappear from the face of the Earth. That second thing was rather tricky to achieve. Unfortunately. You had to settle for the slightly awkward space given by the rest of the team and the fact that you were bound to return to London the next day. That was something. Even if it meant having to debate whether those damned keys were to be used.

The journey back was uneventful. Only Wheeler seemed capable of talking to you without looking as though she has been trapped in some metaphorical web of ineptitude that the others got caught in. That was alright. At least she knew how that conversation in the container went. Her company was good enough to keep you from going insane for the time being.

The moment the car arrived at the London quarters, you practically bolted out through the door. Eager to finally have your own space to reflect, cry, and try to move on after the unimaginable. But it was not exactly meant to be given…

“Y/N, wait!” Ives’ voice rung out through the reception hall as you skidded down the corridor.

Crap.

“Yeah?” cautiously, you stopped in your tracks, facing the squad leader.

Making the mistake of glancing at the reception desk, you met Anna’s watchful gaze. Of course. Even though you knew she had no clue about anything that transpired between you and Neil, it still felt like a painful reminder.

“I…uh...” the hesitation in Ives’ voice made you frown, “I just got this, and I’m not sure…” he passed you his phone with a strange expression on his face.

A text from TP. Just like the ones you received before. Right… This one had a familiarly succinct form: “Invert for eight days with the army from tomorrow. Then get to Trondheim, awaiting further instructions”

“Is this from him?” you looked up to see the blue eyes boring into yours with confusion.

“Yeah, it must be” you nodded and handed him back the phone.

At that exact moment, you got a text as well. Hurriedly you took out the device and read the message:

“Invert along with Ives and the rest”.

Short and simple. Yet not at all. Without a word, you showed your companion the text message and stifled a heavy sigh. Inversion. Eight days. Trondheim. That most likely confirmed your worst fears. The end of it all was near, and you were needed there. You, Neil, and everyone else still had their parts to play in the most important of showdowns.

“So, I guess we’re going back” you could feel Ives’ inquisitive stare on you “Just like they are” he added, awaiting a response.

Meeting Neil after those eight upcoming days sounded like a nightmare. Because a week was never enough to fall out of love. Or to even attempt it. You were a lost cause.

“…yep” nodding halfheartedly, you could feel another weight settle on your shoulders.

“Excited?” the intensity of Ives’ look convinced you towards his intentions.

Evidently, he tried to get a clue towards your state, probably assessing whether you could endanger the mission in any way. Despite everything, you were a professional. A Tenet agent. That had to come before any personal issues you might have had. Forcing a smile, you met his gaze with sincerity.

“Not really” a shrug completed the response.

But it was enough as he grinned back and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s alright. Have today off and be ready tomorrow morning,” he ordered with a feigned sternness.

“Aye aye, sir” you saluted, enjoying the laugh it prompted.

Maybe not everything was utterly shit.

“Your edge is still intact, I see,” he commented once the laughter died down.

“At least something is then” you grimaced slightly and walked off with a wave.

A day off. What could one possibly do with something like that after everything? The set of keys in your pocket felt heavy for something that small. And insignificant (in theory).

*** It took you one hour of staring at the wall, a thirty-minute-long shower, and two coffees to decide to make use of the keys. After all, what was the harm? It was a way of spending the idle hours. And maybe to understand him a little better. Even if it was too late to save anything. You wanted to know him. To know his mind and heart. You dug out the note with the address Ives gave you and typed it into the maps app. Your hands were shaking the whole journey. Even though it was not far, it turned out to be challenging. Often you were catching yourself glancing at the phone, expecting him to call or text as he always did.  But then you remembered, making the nerves come to the surface again. You wondered whether it was because of the absolute wreckage your relationship became or because you were unable to contact him in any way. Walking the streets leading to Neil’s apartment, you realised that it was probably both. You missed him. Simple as that. And equally complicated at the same time.

Google maps led you to an old docking space transformed into posh loft spaces in two store buildings of dark red brick. The residential area was completed with a large parking lot (full of rather good cars), making the first question of the day pop into your head: Did Neil have a private car? Something that unimportant yet entirely mundane only made you realise how little you knew of his life. But this was exactly why you came here. The second thought was something you always knew yet never took time to ponder on: the fact that he undeniably had money. It did not matter, of course. Just another fact that could as a trigger for the intrusive ideas to appear.

Ignoring the spiraling thoughts, you made your way to the indicated building, keying in the code at the door and following the stairs to the second floor. The apartment door no 4 looked like any other you have passed on the way. Turning the key in the lock, you took a deep breath, gathering courage for god knows what. Perhaps just being alone with everything that had to do with Neil… The door opened soundlessly. Faint daylight from the corridor fell onto the furniture and objects gathered in the hall, helping your eyes adjust to the darkness. You closed the door and locked it. The least you could have wanted was for someone to break in on your watch. Now that would have made him hate you. If he didn’t already, that is. Taking off the shoes, you scanned the hall. Hooks with various jackets and coats on the wall. Including a slightly weathered leather one that perked your interest. With fingers ghosting the material, you were unable to block the images of Neil wearing it. That was enough to make you blush and curse out loud. That won’t help with getting over him. As though that was even possible.

Next, your eyes landed on the shoes rack in the corner showing off Neil’s questionable taste in footwear. You grimaced when spotting another pair of brogues (that would have to go… if there was any future for you) and then smiled involuntarily at something as casual as old converse on the top shelf of the rack. So, he could dress more… normally. Interesting.

The rest of the space was filled with a large mirror and a cupboard full of random objects such as spare lightbulbs, shoe care products, and cleaning supplies. On top of that cupboard, there was a succulent (practical, you had to admit), a desk calendar, and a small notepad filled with Neil’s writing. The contents ranged from shopping lists to quantum physics, making you grin fondly when looking through the pages. The latest entry was written down in haste and barely eligible. What you deciphered made your heart stumble for the first time that day. It seemed like Neil was planning to invite you over after Tallinn, prepare dinner, and apparently do all that ‘he wanted to for a while’. Brilliant. The notepad fell from your hands as the implications dawned on you. He wanted to set everything straight, to talk and potentially tell you important things… But now, it did not matter. There was no post-Estonia. Just you alone in his cold, darkened apartment, full of doubts, regrets, and worries.

Shivering from both the chill and the anxiety, you ventured into the living room. It was an open space with a large leather sofa, TV, record player with shelves full of albums and vinyls. There were also bookcases filled to the brim and a dining table for four. Once your gaze fell onto the black piano in the corner, you did a double-take. Obviously, Neil was musically talented. All those times when he has been desperate to annoy you by singing various corny love songs in public were an indisputable example. A moment like that from Tallinn flashed before your eyes…

You and Neil sat in a restaurant on one of the ‘dates’ you had managed to fit into the schedule before TP arrived in Estonia. Cozied up in the corner on a comfortable sofa, you felt perfectly at peace. Instead of taking the seat opposite, Neil got as close as it was possible without raising eyebrows of the fine clientele. You were chatting about everything and nothing, occasionally taking sips of the coffees and letting your hands rest on each other’s knees. Other times they would be interlocked on the table between the plates, showing to the world that this was no platonic meetup. Using the natural break in the conversation, you finished the remains of your latte and watched as Neil focused on the radio somewhere in the background. By this point, you should have known better, but still, the second he started singing took you by surprise.

‘Pretty woman I don't believe you, you're not the truth No one could look as good as you, mercy’

His gaze settled on you without that mercy, awaiting a response. His lips curled into a deadly smirk, making the matters worse. For a moment, you wanted to ignore him, to deny him the satisfaction. But the way he stared, enunciating the song lyrics with precision and aiming them at you, triggered the familiar desire to stake your claim. To make him (and everyone else) understand that he was yours. Especially with a voice that beautiful and eyes that looked at you with boundless affection.

‘Pretty woman that you look lovely as can be Are you lonely just like me’

It was the cheesy growl at the end of that stanza that did it. Combined with the huskiness of Neil’s voice and his hand appearing on your thigh underneath the table, it was enough to convince you to shut him up the best way you knew. You leaned in, placing your palm on the inside of his thigh, just close enough to remind him. Capturing his lips in a kiss, you did not have to wait long for Neil to invite you closer. You began the intimate dance, getting lost in the moment entirely. With him being in public did not matter. Especially not when he was giving you everything he could on a silver plate. Those days every kiss threatened to evolve into a full make-out session as you tried to get ever closer to him. That is why when you heard an awkward cough followed by “Miss, Sir, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave” you could only start laughing. That was two days before your walk, which ended in the alley. The rest was history.

Shaking your head slightly, you let go of the memory. Has it gotten even colder? Shivering, you spotted a sweater draped on the side of the sofa. Crossing the space, you glanced at the instrument that caught your attention. A simple black Kawai piano with a Chopin music score opened on the fallboard and the stool underneath. If there even was a future, you wanted to hear him play something. You could almost picture it. Those long, elegant fingers on the black and white keys, hitting every note with perfection and the flourish he applied to every single task. His gaze focused. Golden hair falling into his eyes carelessly. Lips parted, tongue poking out in concentration. He was bound to be a sight as usual.

Ignoring the waking up flutters that always accompanied every thought about Neil, you picked up the sweater. It was the colour of dark red wine, simple and yet sophisticated in its simplicity. Cashmere. He really is posh. Giving in to the sudden whimsy, you breathed in the smell. That was a mistake. The moment Neil’s essence overwhelmed your senses, you felt a surge of feelings. The musky scent, the hints of bergamot and lavender that always brought comfort. Before you could second guess everything, you put the sweater on, letting the smell envelope you like his hugs always did. It was another thing that you missed. The ability to rest within his strong embrace, safe and wanted. The feeling of his arms cradling you with care. Without the solidity beneath your hands, it was hard to remember how it felt. The sweater had to do. You rolled up the sleeves and approached the large window, drawing back the curtains to see the view and let in light. The sight certainly was not disappointing with the lookout on the Thames and the docking ships. The area looked peaceful, like the place you could want to go out on walks and spend the rest of your life… No, stop. That was a dangerous line of thinking. After all, you only came here to satisfy the curiosity. And because you could, with nothing left to lose. Well, maybe apart from your sanity.

With the day shedding some light onto the furniture and objects in the room, you could more closely assess the type of person Neil was. The décor was rather posh (nothing surprising there) with leather, dark wood, and refined fabrics gracing the space. But upon a closer look, you could see the hints of Neil’s personality shining through the bounds of the stereotypes. It was visible in the chaos of the little details. Billy Idol album discarded on the CD player making you smile. The dying plants on the windowsill. The opened book on the coffee table right next to a bar of chocolate and some bullets. What even… 

Looking around the space, you could easily picture him there. It was like entering a museum of Neil’s life and heart, and you were just a mere visitor. A trespasser even though you had the keys. Lost in the thoughts, you approached the bookshelves, looking over the titles. Young and Freedman’s University Physics with Modern Physics with a worn-out spine and a library stamp on the title page (a theft?). Griffith’s Introduction to Quantum Mechanics with scribbles on the margins, making your head hurt. More Quantum Mechanics but only getting increasingly complex. Spacetime and Geometry. In between the textbooks, there were classics of English and American literature, proving your theory that Neil knew the canon well. All those quotations had to come from somewhere… You looked over the further titles relating to the nuclear area of Physics and relativity of time, only to be thrown out of the moment when your eyes landed on a photograph in a wooden frame. A grinning young man with warm brown eyes and curly dark hair sat on the bench in the park. Alex. Picking up the photo, you took a closer look, feeling inexplicable heaviness in your chest. He looked just like Neil described him – an essence of goodness and understanding. The lump in our throat was strange. He still loved Alex that was a fact and something you took for granted. For a second, you wondered whether you could ever be half that important to him. But that was selfish. And wrong.

Swallowing hard, you put down the frame, focusing on another one nearby. In that photo, you recognized everyone. Ives with slightly longer hair grinning widely, next to him Wheeler with her practical bun and amused eyes, TP relaxed like always when in the company of friends. And then… You would recognize those eyes and sharp jaw anywhere, but… He’s not naturally blonde? You stared at the man who was undoubtedly Neil but with light brown hair, just as messy as usual. Interesting. You did suspect he dyed the hair but still having confirmation was unexpected. Staring a little longer at the photo, you already knew that it did not matter. He was a work of art, full stop. The rest of the photos depicted the Tenet crew, apart from the one you assumed was a family snapshot from years ago. Two happy boys with mundane looking parents and a Labrador retriever (Charlie!). Upon a closer look, you could tell that Neil got his blue eyes after his mother and the smile after his father. It was an interesting discovery. Other objects littering the shelves included postcards, trinkets from travels, and a strange collection of obscure coins. Also, more notebooks with Neil’s equations and theories and music scores. There was no order, just fate, and fancy. Just like him.

Wandering into the kitchen, running your fingertips over various instruments and surfaces, you wanted to soak in the atmosphere of the apartment. So far, the new information was almost overwhelming. But also fascinating in the fact that you already felt like you knew him better. Glancing at the fridge in passing, you froze. Among the cheap promotional magnets and old shopping notes attached to it, there was a rather familiar writing visible. A note you made Anna pass to him many weeks ago. “I’ll be at the shooting range. Meet you for dinner after 5” signed with your initials for practicality. Why has he kept it? It did not make sense. You forgot about the existence of something that inconsequential, yet here it was. Kept in place with a blaring orange magnet from Sainsbury’s. Suddenly feeling a little faint with the implications of the moment, you poured tap water into the glass and sat down on the stool by the kitchen island. You could still remember Anna’s offended stare when you gave her the note with the instruction to pass it to Neil later. That memory triggered another one, much more recent…

In the days leading up to Tallinn, you went out with Neil for a lunch and walk under the guise of planning the logistics of your journey. Sure, there was some planning being done over the tea and sandwiches. But there was also a lot of hand-holding, kissing, and gazing shamelessly. It was during those days, and then the idle hours in the safe house, that you have allowed yourself to love him. The feelings were there for months (most likely), but only after Oslo and the candid conversations in your room, you felt more at ease with them. So far, that PDA was not all that terrifying. And so, when you came back to the London quarters that afternoon, your fingers intertwined, you only realised how it looked like from the outside when Neil tugged you in the direction of Anna’s desk.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, hoping the woman was too busy to see you.

“I told you, need to get that ID sorted,” he explained, matching your conspiratorial tone, completely oblivious to your struggles.

“Yeah, but…” you raised your joined hands as if to show him the issue.

Neil grinned, waving his free hand dismissively.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s not like that’s against the rules” ending the sentence, he took the final step separating you from the desk.

Great. Plastering on the most pleasant of smiles, you met Anna’s accusatory glare. You could not blame her.

“Anna, hi” Neil’s bright grin got met with a cold face of stone.

You vividly remembered that first day at Tenet, when you were filling in the paperwork, observing him flirt with the woman behind the desk. Back then, you were baffled by her reaction, the fluttering of eyelashes and lovesick smiles. Now you wondered how you got to that point and why you were seemingly luckier than she could ever be.

“Yes?”

“My ID is expiring soon. Was wondering if you could give me the form for the new one?” Neil’s chirpy tone made you hide a smile by looking at the floor “I want to get this sorted for after we’re back” he added, with that hopeful gaze barely anyone could ever say no to.

Anna was not any different.

“Naturally,” she spared you a final spiteful look before turning around to use the computer.

Glancing around the empty lobby, you hoped to survive the rest of the encounter without any additional awkwardness. But Neil had other plans. He stepped in closer, nose brushing over your ear, tearing down any illusions about the nature of your relationship. You stifled a sigh when his lips placed a small kiss over your temple.

“Shall we go to yours after this?” the whisper complemented with a ghost of his fingers on the side of your neck made you shiver.

“Maybe…” you cast a wary glance at Anna, but her back was turned.

Thankfully.

“I thought we could resume the planning…” upon the suggestive tone, you turned to meet his gaze.

Surely enough, the playful sparks were there. And the smirk too. Of course. Planning, in this case, most likely meant more cuddling… and potentially kissing. His hands getting accustomed to your body, leaving countless promises for the future. The thoughts alone made you blush. Before Neil could get any closer, Anna’s voice interrupted the moment:

“Here’s your form,” nothing but ice and fury.

So, she must have noticed…

“Thanks” the polite nod made you snicker.

During the next few terribly long minutes, you did your best to avoid looking at the other woman. Or at Neil. Your gaze roamed over the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. Reading the same fire evacuation instructions for the fifth time, you felt a gentle touch on your arm:

“Can I put down your details as my emergency contact?” you looked up straight into those inquisitive blue eyes “I’ve had Ives the last two years, but I think you’re a more accurate option these days,” he explained as though it was obvious.

Emergency contact? You always assumed those were for best friends and spouses. You were not sure which fitted the criteria.  

“How so?” blurting out the only viable question, you met his perplexed gaze.

“… because I’m with you and not with him” the bluntness of the reply made your heart stumble.

“Right”

Of course, you agreed. As a ‘thank you’ that afternoon, Neil kissed you until there was barely any breath left for either of you. Now you missed the feeling of being that desired.

And yet, that stupid note was right there, in your eyes a bright red spot that you could not ignore. Because surely, he must have cared at some point? You finished the remains of water and washed the glass. Then, just for the sake of a distraction, you went through the kitchen cupboards. Nothing surprising. Appliances that looked barely used. Canned food every Brit would be expected to have. The amounts of frozen meals in the lower fridge compartments confirmed another thesis - Neil did not like cooking. That was fair not everyone could be Jamie Oliver. Not that you would prefer him. Certainly not. Shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the thoughts, you opened another cabinet. Wine and glasses, triggering the memory from your date night in Oslo. The way Neil tried to emulate his swank further by pretending to be a sommelier, making you laugh with his fake French accent and sparse knowledge. Upon the efforts to name something else than tannins (that Sauvignon Blanc had little of), you stepped in, shutting him up with a fingertip tracing the outline of his lips, collecting a stray droplet of wine. And then licking your finger clean, much to his shock. The strange snapshot from one of the most eventful nights in your life was a good cue to leave the kitchen and trod down the corridor.

You stepped into the bathroom, curiously glancing at the contents of the cupboards and around the sink. Nothing remarkable. Giving in to the temptation, you sprayed the cologne he used on your wrist and inhaled deeply. Closing the bathroom door, your eyes landed on the room at the end of the corridor. Neil’s bedroom. Involuntarily, you felt a shiver run down your spine. Bedrooms were always a sacred space. The most private of places in the house. The stage set for life’s crucial events. Love, life, and tragedy all began to play out (and end) in there. If there was a room closest to the heart of the owner, it would be the bedroom and its contents. With a shaky hand, you pressed down the handle and opened the door. The interior was almost too mundane. The bed with dark grey covers and decorative pillows. Some artworks on the walls and drawn curtains, forcing you to turn on the ceiling lamp. A small bedside table with a night light and books. A walk-in closet with the sliding doors partly opened. That was what drew you in first, crossing the space you peered inside. Only to be overwhelmed with that Neil smell that made sure to make your heart rate pick up. Gently, you ran your fingers over the suit jackets and sweaters hanged on the rails. He had a multitude of those, in different colours. Eyeing a suit in dark blue, you could imagine how it would bring out his eyes. There were a few sweaters in different shades of green, confirming the suspicions that he liked the colour. Further along, you found a drawer with ties of various patterns, making you grin at one olive green with Labradors on it. Now that was a classic Neil accessory.

Just when you were about to end the ‘snooping’ your gaze landed on a more casual part of the wardrobe. Jeans folded on the shelves, t-shirts, and polos. Even a jean jacket somewhere in the back. In the drawer, you found socks with questionable patterns, only increasing the fondness you felt for the owner of such an eclectic wardrobe. And then you made the mistake of letting your curiosity get ahead of you. Another drawer. Underwear. Your face got warm as you slammed it shut. Enough. Thinking about that could lead to the dangerous territory you would rather not venture out to. At least not when alone in his apartment, overwhelmed with memories and feelings. There would be time for this too later… Hopefully.

Sliding the doors shut, you took in the room again. The pile of books on the bedside table caught your attention. Gingerly, you sat down on the bed, doing your best not to think about the specifics of that moment. You, alone in his bedroom. This was certainly not how you expected to end up in there for the first time. But that too was beyond the point. Sighing, you picked up the stack of books only to drop them onto the covers with hands shaking. You would recognize the cover everywhere. Your favourite book. The exact copy you had last seen in Oslo when you gave it to Neil. That memory was rather unforgettable…

Hanging out in the hotel room, waiting for Mahir and TP to come back from a small errand, you did your best to ignore Neil’s piercing gaze from across space. That was the day after your careless dancing and that evening’s developments when he asked you out. Just before the mission. And Neil was staring, shamelessly so. It was getting on your nerves.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” putting down the itinerary, you broke the silence and faced him.

The satisfied smile was enough to make you groan. He knew exactly what he was doing, as though waiting for the moment to strike when you were alone.

“Actually not, no” the grin widened as he shrugged nonchalantly “Plus you’re quite the sight. As usual” propping his chin on his hand, he kept on gazing.

The bastard was impossible.

“Jesus…” sighing, you rummaged in the bag at your feet “Do you want a book or something?” you took out a worn-out paperback “Because all that staring makes me want to…” trailing off, you met his inquisitive glare.

Want to kiss him. For starters. But he need not know that.

“What? Tell me” Neil spread his legs casually, leaning back in the armchair. An object of pure poise. And the challenge, aimed at you only. That was Neil at the top of his game, sure of what he wanted and how to get it. But you were not going to give it to him easily.

“Better not” the slight shock in his eyes gave you confidence “If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that your ego is big enough” offering him a sly smirk, you took a sip of the water.

When you looked up again, Neil was staring at you with an exaggerated pained expression on his face.

“I’m wounded” he put the hand over his heart like the drama queen that he was.

Scoffing, you laughed at the spectacle. Two could play the game.

“Good,” the offended whine only increased the satisfaction “So do you want that book?” you picked up the paperback, showing it to him “I’ve got my favourite one with me. Could kill some time”

“Yes, please” he got up and crossed the room, taking the book from you “I’ll have a chance to see what’s in that head of yours” Neil leaned down to your level and kissed you on the forehead “Apart from the desire for me, of course” he added, once he moved out of your reach once again.

Fucking hell.

“Neil”

At least there were some fun memories to come back to, you thought, looking through the copy you borrowed Neil. Then you noticed another thing. Under your book, there was another one of the same title. Brand new. Pages filled with Neil’s scribbles on the margins and underlined passages, highlighting the exact same quotations that made this book become your favourite. My god. The realization hit you with a gasp and a shiver. He read it. And not only that, but he also tried to understand you through something you held so dear. Reading the notes he made, you knew he was listening to every word you said. No matter the moment, the stage of your ‘relationship’, evidently, he cared enough to be interested in your thoughts and feelings. You were holding the proof in your hands. In some margin notes, Neil even referred to you using your initials, pointing out why it could resonate with you so much. The more you read, the more it felt like you have encountered his diary, in some form. That would be it when it comes to getting over. Putting down the books, your head was spinning. Too much.

You needed food. And sleep. It was at that moment that you decided to stay. It got late enough to make the journey back inconvenient. And everything was right here. Feeling like Goldilocks personified, you made use of Neil’s frozen food assortment and put on the music. Once you got over the initial shock of the afternoon, it was almost too easy to pretend that Tallinn never happened. That you were still alright. That he still potentially loved you. With the somewhat soothing sounds of Billy Idol and The Darkness, you went over Neil’s notebooks with equations. You understood nothing but the possibility to read his notes and theories was as comforting as it could get. Then, feeling your eyelids get heavy, you cleaned up and moved to the bedroom. Lying down in Neil’s bed felt like sacrilege. But the moment your head rested on the pillow and you inhaled the scent, it was all excused. At least in your eyes. Giving in to the foolish daydreams, you could almost imagine him next to you. The warmth and comfort the cuddles always provided. But you were alone, still wearing that sweater that smelled too good to be given up. It had to be enough. You fell asleep thinking about those damned blue eyes and the man that took the ownership of your heart for good.

*** Upon waking up in the cold apartment the next morning, you wanted nothing but to leave as soon as possible. In the daylight, with dreams of happiness haunting every corner of your mind, the feeling of loneliness was more persistent. You made sure to get rid of any signs of your intrusion, cleaned the kitchen, and made the bed. The only keepsake you could not deny yourself was the cashmere sweater that you stuffed into the bag. Even if he would not want anything to do with you, you could give it back along with the keys. Surely he would understand… right? After everything that you found in his flat, nothing seemed certain anymore.

You made it back to the HQs with just enough time to shower and pack for the next week of sitting in the inversion chambers in the sealed off part of the complex. That did not sound good as it meant more time with too many people in the cramped quarters. You had enough of that at this point. But then that was the prize of getting the most incredible of jobs. That and getting your heart broken. Again.

You joined the rest of the army by the larger turnstile, used purely for long-term inversion, instead of training. Accepting friendly nods from both Ives and Wheeler, you took your place in the queue. No one knew exactly what the purpose of this was. Just that you were supposed to go back eight days and then travel to the Norwegian coastline, awaiting instructions. The intuition that was rarely wrong told you that you were in the endgame from this point onwards.

And so, the next week was restricted to trying not to lose your sanity locked within the four walls. The only escape from the small room was the kitchen (always full of people that wanted to know too much), bathroom (that always had lines of people waiting by the door), and the small courtyard, where you could not step out without the oxygen tank and a mask. Overall, it was not the most pleasant of experiences. Especially when most days you wanted to curl up in bed and contemplate the mess that your life became. And to marinate in pain that became a constant companion. The sweater could only help so much. Accompanied with nerves and worry, you felt objectively shit and did everything to preserve the solitude. That is how you found yourself in the small kitchen at 2 am, eating toasties and drinking tea. Earlier the compound was too busy, and you preferred starving than facing the others. Only with everyone asleep, you could catch up on the meals missed. Well, almost everyone…

“How are you doing?” a voice interrupted your brooding.

You turned in the seat only to see Wheeler enter the room with a small smile on her face. Her you could tolerate, as an exemption.

“Bad” the candid answer seemed only appropriate “But I don’t mind the company, so please… stay” you added upon her hesitation.

She just nodded and proceeded to make a cup of tea. The silence stretched, but for once, it was rather pleasant. Finally, she finished the task and took the seat opposite you, giving you a quick once-over. You knew what she saw. Tangled hair, reddened eyes from lack of sleep, and hours of tears. The sweater that became the only comfort in those early morning moments when nothing seemed real and yet everything was too much.

“Is the sweater his?” she asked plainly, and you could only nod.

At this stage, surely, nothing was bound to surprise her.

“Yeah… Maybe it’s silly, but I took it from his place just to have something… tangible” you explained, consciously running your fingers over the material. Instead of judgement, you got a smile in return.

“No, I understand” Wheeler took a sip from the mug before asking, “Did the apartment give you any answers?”

You have not shared the story with anyone, unable to process it all even in the quiet of your mind. But maybe this was a chance to let it out…

“Mostly whiplash,” you let out a bitter laugh “It’s like… he cares… or cared,” you stumbled over the tense “But then in Tallinn after the shoot-out, he just closed off completely, and I don’t know why” raising your hands in defeat, you planted on your face on the table.

Anything goes. After a moment of utter frustration, you met Wheeler’s inquisitive eyes again. She did not seem bothered by your antics. Just a little concerned by the picture you were painting.

“Maybe it’s trauma” the seriousness of her expression made you think.

You did consider that option. But even knowing what happened with Alex, his reaction seemed too violent. You were alive, and yet he was trying to push you away. Plus, that way of thinking implied something else. Something you did not dare consider.

“That would mean he… loved me” getting the words out was a challenge “And I don’t think he does” you stared at the table, giving in to the thoughts once again “Whatever is going to happen now, I think I need space. Some distance. Trying to get over this won’t work otherwise”

Formulating the feelings that were overwhelming your heart and mind felt somehow relieving. Even if the prospects were anything but good.

“Is that what you want? To let him go?” the straightforward attitude of your companion was helpful.

“I don’t know,” sighing, you met her gaze, “I want… him, but if he doesn’t feel the same then…” with reddened cheeks, you let the sentence trail off.

She would understand, you were sure of that. And, if the slightly suspicious look in Wheeler’s eyes was anything to go by, she had her ideas about the topic.

“You should probably try talking to him again” she spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Last time that ended terribly,” you replied, arching your eyebrows, begging her to remember how bad that container conversation went.

“I know,” Wheeler patted your shoulder reassuringly, “But I also know that sometimes Neil needs a proper kick in the ass before he sees what’s right in front of him” she got up and went to the sink, picking up both of your dishes.

With the soothing soundtrack of the washing, you could feel almost sleepy. If it was not for that never-ending chatter of your thoughts.

“If you say so…” you murmured when she turned the tap off.

“Go to sleep. It’s just two days more of this torture” giving you a final smile, Wheeler left the kitchen.

You could survive two days. After that? Who knows. But it had to be alright.

[marireadshellblazer]

Constantine TV Series Episode 4 “A Feast of Friends”

Aight, I feel the need to express some feelings about this episode. I’m not sure this is going to be terribly articulate, but I’ll do my best. Let’s do this.

First off, it’s obvious to anyone who has read Hellblazer that this episode is based off of the first two issues of the comic book series. As I wrote in my post about my experience reading it, these issues were the perfect way to start off the series. It’s like “BOOM! This is how it is! Get ready for some serious shit! This is your only warning; this is what you’re in for.” Even though they did change the story for the episode, I still absolutely loved it. The storyline from the comics is a favorite of mine, but even with the changes made in order to adapt it for TV, this was an awesome episode. In fact, it’s my favorite episode of the TV series. Here’s why!  

   Why is it episode 4?

  Unlike the comics this story was adapted to be episode 4, meaning it doesn’t start the TV series. So, why wouldn’t it start the TV series? I think that you have to look at it from a few different perspectives.

  Let’s start with the comic: Issues 1 and 2, titled Hunger and A Feast of Friends respectively, make up the first arc of the Hellblazer series. Most fans know, however, that Hellblazer is not John’s first appearance in comics; he got his own series after appearing throughout the American Gothic story arc of Swamp Thing. Consequently, many people came into Hellblazer at the time having some familiarity with the character. While this chapter does expand on John’s character some, this doesn’t serve as a major introduction to him. They just drop the reader into one of his nightmare-inducing everyday situations with little to no preparation. Those who are familiar with his role in Swamp Thing will, odds are, not find these issues to be terribly weird or particularly jarring considering it’s in a series about John; they have a good idea what they are in for.

   Here is a quick run-down: John returns to his apartment in Paddington after dealing with the horror show that is the Brujeria in the Swamp Thing comics. Exhausted, he comes back to an unwelcome guest; Gary Lester. Gary is one of the friends who was involved in the Newcastle incident (which is fully explained in issue #11), which left each of them scarred in their own way. Gary dealt with the aftermath via drugs, which have left him wide open for other issues. After foolishly releasing a demon from a sacrificial victim, Gary runs to John for help dealing with the destruction said demon is causing. In this case it’s a hunger demon that causes people to feast upon whatever they greatly desire; food, a crucifix, and even an athlete committing autocannibalism. With help from club owner and Voodoo practitioner Papa Midnight, John betrays his vulnerable and trusting friend in order to stop the demon by instead making him the new sacrifice. Trapping the demon inside of Gary, the literal and figurative ghosts of John’s past haunt and torment him mentally as his friend dies slowly and in agony, ending this arc with a melancholy feeling. John stopped a demon, but at the cost of a friend who truly trusted and cared for him.

Using this story to begin the TV series as is, however, would have been more than a little strange. In the minds of most people outside of the comic book world, John Constantine was first introduced to them via the horrifyingly inaccurate Keanu Reeves film. (I love Keanu, I really do, but that film give me agita). Or, if they were introduced to the show after it had already aired, they are introduced via Matt Ryan’s masterful work portraying him in Legends of Tomorrow. While he does an incredible job in both Constantine and Legends (to the point where I find that I may simply be unable to accept anyone else taking on the role in live action) it depresses me terribly that Legends toned down John’s character so much with all the goofiness. It did not suit John at all! If anything, I find myself feeling sorry for Matt Ryan, who tried so hard to do John’s character justice. Uhg.

   Anyway…Already, a lot of the audience is going to be more than a little taken aback by the Constantine series’ portrayal of the character, however comic book accurate he may be. This show is tailored to as wide of an audience as possible, meaning they expect that pretty much no one has read Hellblazer or Swamp Thing before. Consequently, having the series start by just dropping the audience into his crazy world, especially with this particular story arc, might not be the best idea. I’m not saying that his introduction is done super well with the first episode (it’s not a total wreak, but there are issues) but it would have been much harder to start with A Feast of Friends.

     Characterization

    Now, let’s look at it from another angle: characterization. As the 4th episode this was, odds are, done assuming that there would be a lot more episodes after this (oh, the painful reality), but really the viewers are still just getting to know John. So, these early episodes are supposed to establish his character. They see him as knowledgeable and ready to handle the weird and scary in the first episode, and in 2 and 3 you see that he is serious about his work, a loner, weirdly well prepared, and how he interacts with others. While in some situations he does come off like a douche, his douche-ness is on full display in this episode. Honestly, this is accurate to how he is in the comics; he’s a nasty piece of work, after all. A world class bastard. He gives Gary shit for his drug addiction pretty much the entire episode as well as his choice to mess with a demon and the chaos it made that he now has to fix. He, like in the comics, tricks Gary into helping him and it results in a slow, painful death for the man. Gary really did trust John, and not only did John betray him, but he was callous about it. Now, that’s not to say that the situation and Gary’s death doesn’t bother him, and this is also seen in both the episode and the comic, but John solders through a lot of it with his mask of stoic indifference; he blatantly a deliberately betrays his friend without much hesitation.

    John’s characterization in the show is really important. While fans of Hellblazer know what they are in for (John being a dick, betraying people, sacrificing friends, etc) the wide audience the show was meant to appeal to might not respond well to that. How is the audience supposed to relate to a character whose major personality trait in this arc is to basically be a douche (even if it is justified in a way)? Generally speaking, TV shows try to have a lot of characters with redeeming traits and very basic bitch personalities so that as much of the audience as possible can relate to them in some capacity. They can describe the main character as “cool, quirky, sweet, loving, etc” because that is what network television strives for. The point is for the audience to relate to and find a lot of reasons to like the character, especially the main character. The audience is supposed to be able to see the qualities of the character in themselves. An example of a douchy character being changed for network television is the titular character in TV series Lucifer. He can be an asshat at times, but his redeeming qualities shine through in pretty much every episode; he’s helpful, has a strong sense of justice, and cares about Chloe. He often goes out of his way to understand others, although he often misses the mark, and tries to fix problems and issues that he accidentally creates in order to keep relationships with others. These are things people can relate to, and although he can be rather uncouth, it’s played for laughs, and he has more redeeming qualities than not. If the Constantine series started off with John coldly betraying a friend after giving him shit for his addiction the entire episode with not a lot of his positive traits coming through, from the perspective of most people, this might not be a good way to try and connect with the audience. I’m not saying there are people who don’t/won’t, but again, this is network television and they tend to play on the safe side.

    Comic book -> TV

    Ok so let’s move onto the meat of this; the changes made to the story. People always complain when something isn’t totally accurate to the book down to every last detail (Harry Potter *cough cough*) and making story and character changes to adaptions of comic books is nothing new. However, to be fair, there are some legitimately good reasons for this. Time, money, limits technology wise, and pacing are good examples. The most important thing to consider, in my opinion, is that we are going from a comic book to television. Literally, that is the most important thing. Essentially, what the writers had to do when adapting this story for the show was carry over the plot from one medium to another, which is tricky.

    What’s a medium? A medium is a platform that allows a message to be shared or presented. So, using the medium of a comic book is how Jamie Delano was able to share his message; the story of John Constantine. The writers of the television series then had to adapt the story from comics, a visual and written medium, into a different kind of visual medium with different features to it; stage craft, voice, music, etc.

    Comic books have features for story telling; the size and placement of the panels, the writing, word bubbles, narration bubbles, colors, art style, etc. The pro’s to this are that you don’t get paragraph after paragraph describing a place or a person; they literally show them to you and the art presents those details. They also allow for the art to take in the reader emotionally through what the images convey; messy art, sudden loss of color, or even a sudden blank page after a tragic event are simple yet effective ways to convey emotion that are, at times, difficult or downright impossible to put into words. And sometimes the writer wants to leave things to interpretation or allude to something without saying it outright. While this can be done in writing, it can be done through the art as well, and depending on how skilled the artist or creative a set up can be just as effective if not more.

     In television storytelling can be done with another wide array of features. Close-ups on the actors, the actors and their performance in general, music, background narration, changes in location, lighting, ect. This allows for emotions to come across in different ways; the quality of the acting can make or break the effectiveness of the scene, and music and lighting can alter the message or feel of scene in order to change or heighten the point, pacing, the use of CGI or practical effects, etc. So, keeping this in mind, there are many features that are exclusive to film that are not in comic books, and vice versa. So, as you can imagine, adapting the stories or message from one medium to another is nowhere near as straightforward as people like to think it is. In other words, I tend to give the writers/actors/etc a break when it comes to adaption because, honestly, there is a lot that goes into it and it’s not like I could do better, honestly. I mean, there are piss poor adaptions, I’m not gunna lie, but there are a lot of them that I think don’t get enough credit simply because it’s “different” in some ways.

     Aight, let’s first refer back to what I said earlier concerning the comic; these issues aren’t so much an intro to John as they are literally following him from the end of the American Gothic arc in Swamp Thing and to his apartment where he gets involved with more shit (no rest for the wicked, amirite?). So, again, not a good way to start the TV series. In the TV show, they also have to tie in the changes they set up in the previous episodes. Continuity, my friends.

    So, what is different? Here are a few things: John having a safe house, being in the US, Chaz being American and also not involved, Zed being involved and being Latina, the new angel character Manny, and the absence of Papa Midnight really change a lot about the story. The heart of it is John’s relationship with Gary and the defeat of the demon, which thankfully remains unchanged at it’s core. This is the central idea that drives this story and I think that idea was actually done a bit better in the film medium than in the comic.

   Keeping all of these factors and all of these changes that needed in order to keep things consistent with the TV show’s changes, let’s get into why I think that this episode is good even with the changes, but why I love it.

I love It

      After taking some time to consider things, I realize that what really makes this episode great is the actors; specifically, Matt Ryan and Jonjo O'Neill. The chemistry between them is undeniable. The way they look at each other and how they talk to each other really makes you feel like, at one time at least, they were friends. The scene where Gary swipes the ID badge and says “I learned from the best” is a great example of this. The look on his face and John’s; I don’t have a real eloquent way to say it. I just sort of feel it.

The retcon of Gary’s character really helps with this. Being that Gary is introduced and then killed off in two issues, you don’t really get to know his character in the comics. He’s only in one episode of the TV series, yet he feels more fleshed out. Soul was added to the character. Showing his struggles with addiction, as well as what I suspect to be depression and PTSD, really humanized him. In the episode, he was more than just a desperate, annoying junky; he was a flawed and relatable human being. Who hasn’t made a mistake? How many people have made BIG mistakes with consequences difficult to handle? How many people are haunted by their actions from the past? Addiction and the effects is has on people is devastating. I’m glad that they kept the ending true to the comics, but the way he was portrayed in the episode really made me feel for Gary in this case. It almost made me hope that maybe he really would get better, and have the chance at redemption that he was trying so desperately to find. But it wouldn’t be a John Constantine series without an ending like this one; John loses a friend and slowly digs himself deeper into hell.

Of course, it’s the ending of the episode that people really remember best. It’s the scenes that solidified, at least for me, Matt Ryan as John Constantine. It’s what really helped me have faith in the series. Watching it now, and seeing what really could have been, makes the episode somewhat bitter sweet for me. I felt like this is when the series really found it’s footing; the acting, storytelling, and how well arcs from Hellblazer could be adapted. This is where I think Matt Ryan hit his stride and we could see what he was really capable of as an actor if they let him spread his wings. In the earlier episodes I was honestly unsure. He looked the part, but the soul of the character had not really had a chance to shine through.

How John treats Gary at the end really made a difference, too. Holding him while he was in pain, and sitting with him as he died in agony; these simple yet effective changes really drove home John’s humanity in the face of evil and the tough decisions he has to make. The look he gives many at the very end, the anger and sorrow he seems to be struggling to hold back, is haunting.

In this episode, Matt Ryan’s love and dedication to John’s character shine. Seeing the story in live action gave this story a stronger impact. Even without a lot of the social commentary that was present in the comic, the live action element is what really helps drive the story home. I think it’s because it’s real people showing these very real emotions that can be hard to translate into art. Not to say that John Ridgway did a bad job, but it’s different in live action.

I hope I was able to get these thoughts across. I wasn’t sure if I should share this or not, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I know this is sort of jumbled, but hopefully it’s not a total mess to read.

[songsformonkeys]

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 3

The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.

On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.

The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.

“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.

“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.

Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.

Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.

“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”

“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.

“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.

“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”

You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.

The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.

There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.

You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.

“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.

“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”

“Lonesome Dove.”

“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”

“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”

Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.

“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”

“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”

“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”

You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.

“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.

“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.

“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”

“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”

“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”

“Good night, darlin'”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.

Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.

You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.

After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.

“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.

“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.

“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.

“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.

“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”

Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.

“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.

“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”

“What?” you asked.

“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”

You looked over at the strange man.

“You think he did it?”

Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.

“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”

She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.

“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.

“He's an agent?” he asked.

“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”

“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”

“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”

You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.

Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.

“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”

Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The next day, your patient woke up.

It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.

As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”

“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”

Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.

The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.

You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...

Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.

“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”

“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.

“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.

You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.

You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.

“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.

“Yes. Whiskey what's...”

Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.

“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”

“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”

“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”

“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.

“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.

“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.

“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.

“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”

She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.

“Is that agent Whiskey?”

You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.

“Whiskey?”

There was another crash and he cursed again.

“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”

“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”

What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.

“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:

“We'll be ready for him.”

After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.

“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “

[gayaristocrat]

Lupercalia // Nicholas Scratch x Male Trans! Witch Reader 1/4

‼️Authors Note‼️ :  This along with a few other stories have been saved in my drafts for a few month and I decided to go ahead and upload this so I can have something put out while I finish writing requests.

Warning: None

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

————————————————————

Lupercalia, a ceremonial holiday that coincides with Valentine’s Day. A lusty pastoral festival started by the Roman witches under the reign of Caligula. Named after the Lupercal, the cave where the twin founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus, were suckled by the She-Wolf. Originally it was instituted as means to purify the city to increase health and fertility. Nowadays, it’s less about fertility and more about, well.....sex. Every year Lupercalia causes much fanfare at the Academy of Unseen Arts. The festival is separated into three parts, The Matching, The Courting, and The Hunt. Now, enough explaining. Let’s get the ceremony started.

You along with the other warlocks and witches are contained in the great hall at the academy. The men are sitting the the chars that are attached to red and white silk ribbons which are also attached to a giant black pole in the middle of the hall. How come you’re not sitting with the other warlocks you ask? Well that’s because you and Nick decided that he will be sitting while you dance with the ribbon sense this is your first year participating in the Lupercalia. Sabrina would have participated with you, but she wanted to spend ‘Valentines Day’ with her boyfriend, in a non-magical way.

While Father Blackwood gives Ambrose his signal to start, he grabs his violin and begins his speech. “Alright fellas, take your places for The Matching!” He shouts as he gets to his post patiently waiting as everyone gets into position. Getting ready you grab the white ribbon that’s places on Nick’s chair as the two of you lovingly gaze at each other’s eyes, soft smiles filled with love and happiness.

Before you could mouth an ‘I love you’ to him, Dorcas creeps behind you as her shoulder bumps into your arm. “Don’t even think about it (Y/N)-“ she says snobbishly “Two years ago Prudence was paired with Nick for Lupercalia. Last year, Agatha was. This year, it’s my turn.” She lifts her pointer finger and thumb and lightly grabs you chin and she finished her statement, she removes her fingers from you as she smirks and walks away to her spot. Ignoring her, you grab your ribbon as Nick looks at her, cringing at her attempts to get with him.

Ambrose continues his speech “Alright, ladies, and gentleman, you know how this goes-“ He pauses and turns to look at you while respectfully saying the word ‘gentleman’ , you send a toothy grin his way for always using correct pronouns to address you. “-When the music stops, take a seat on the warlock closest to you.” Once Ambrose finishes giving out instructions, Prudence ties a royal blue blindfold around his eyes to blindfold him as he lifts his violin. Placing the bow on the strings of the mahogany wooden instrument he starts playing, who would have known how beautifully he could play. He slowly sways his body with the flow of the folk music while the other witches and I begin to dance.

All of us slowly bow, we stand back up and take off. Your inner circle starts twirling clockwise, whilst the outer circle goes counter clockwise. You all gracefully twirl and spin like ballerinas. Your clothes sway behind you as you move alongside the others. The music stops and you see yourself in front of Nick, following the next step you walk over and get ready to sit in his lap. Before you could even wrap your arms around his neck, you get body slammed to the ground as Dorcas takes your spot on Nick’s lap. “Oh sorry, (Y/N).” She says as she runs her hand through Nicks hair.

You slowly get up from the dark tile floor, dust yourself aching body off, and slowly walk around to find an unclaimed warlock noticing Dorcas’ eyes following you as she basks in her victory. Walking over, you sit at in the closest warlock’s lap and tightly wrap your arms around his neck and roll your hips against his crotch whilst he put a possessive grip on your hips as he groans. You lean in as both of you kiss each other with nothing but love and passion. Once both of you part your lips you turn to look at Dorcas just to see her petrified face.

If Nick was with you, then who was she with?

“Wait, then who? What....Melvin?”

“Uh...Nick gave me 100 bucks to wear a glamour. He thought you might try something like this.” Melvin replies to Dorcas making her contort her face in disgust.

—————-Later That Night————

(Reader’s POV)

Nick and I are standing in the middle of the woods with the others from the academy, quietly listening as Ambrose gives more instructions on re-enacting The Courting. Basically each couple goes into the dark creepy woods, disrobe, and anoint themselves while lying underneath the moon. As instructions are being given, Prudence walks around and gives each of us baskets filled with jars.

“The milk and blood are for the purification. The oysters and figs are for fertility and virility. The cherries, on the other hand, are for popping” She lists off as she leans in close to me and seductively says ‘popping’.

Nick and I look at each other, he knows about me transitioning and how uncomfortable I can feel since I haven’t had my bottom surgery yet. He leans in closely and wraps his arm around my waist. “(Y/N), we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” I smile and tell him that we’ll just have to see what happens. I send him a quick smile and turn back to look at Father Blackwood. After giving us the Dark Lord’s blessing, Ambrose blows the horn sending us all into the woods.

After running around for a while, Nick and I settle down underneath a dead weeping willow tree and unload our basket.

“Nervous?” Nick asks with a smug smirk on his face.

“Maybe a little bit” I respond as I continue unloading the blood and oils.

Humming response he questions further. “About what in particular?”

Leaning back on the ground with my arms holding me up I continue our conversation. “About everything. We’ve only been boyfriends for a couple months now, and yet tomorrow, we have to take part in some crazy bacchanal.” Nick chuckles and trying to lighten up the mood. “Well, if it makes you feel any better- “ he states“- I’m terrified”.

“Yeah right, as if Nick!” I say sarcastically “Before you and Sabrina were dating we caught you in the attic having an orgy with her cousin.” Nick let’s loose an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes, embarrassed that I remembered that day. Every time I saw him at the academy after that, I would always picture him in his boxers making out with Prudence and Ambrose. It was an extremely disturbing image that took a while to get over. “Okay that was different. It’s just-“ He says slowly, trying to form the right words. “-I’ve never been with someone I’ve truly loved. I really love you (y/n), and I really don’t wanna mess things up with you”

Nicks word hit me hard causing me to tear up. I look into his eyes to see if I can see if he’s lying, but I can only see honesty. Hot tears roll down my face as he rests his hand on my cheek, leaning in he brings his lips close to mine making them meet. Suddenly things get pretty heated, our tongues begin fighting each other in a sloppy forceful battle for dominance, Nick easily dominates and his tongue explores my mouth as he pulls me closer to him. I wrap my arm around his neck. I run my hands down and stop at his chest, I gently push him back, breaking the kiss.

Both of us with heavy breaths from lack of air pull back, looking into each other’s eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “Nick, we have to finish the ritual before we get too carried away. Grab the blood, I’ll get the knife.” I hop off his lap and we fetch the items we need to help finish off the night.

So far it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.

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

Finish the fic? Leave a comment if you liked it and let me know if you want a part 2!

[auroras-blend]

~A Day in the Life of Leonardo Borghese~

5 AM- Wakes up looking incredible

5:10 AM- has a glass of water with fruit or smoothie for energy

5:15 AM- WORKOUT

6:15 AM- Gets ready

Gets dressed (clothes picked out the day before)

Reads the paper and judges people: "Dirty hippies..."

Examines himself in the mirror: "I've aged well. See, this is what happens when you take care of your skin 😏"

Thinks about his career

Has his coffee/tea

Thinks about his son

This leads to him thinking about his daughter. Proceeds to plan the rest of her life

Thinks about Cardinale's grandson. Gets angry & takes an angry swig of coffee/tea

Doesn't like his belt and how negative it is. Changes it.

Does some cleaning & then sighs because it'll all be a mess by the end of the day anyway. Kids. What are ya gonna do? 🤷‍♂️

Thinks about how much better he is than everyone. Smiles at his world's best dad ornament. This reminds him that Vittoria is still in bed

8:00 AM- Mentally and emotionally prepares to wake Vittoria up.

8:15 AM- Wakes Vittoria up

8:30 AM- Vittoria actually gets up and gets ready

Her clothes are picked out the day before

Gives her half a sedative and vitamins (Flintstones chewables 😊)

Tells her about the day's agenda because she has a hard time with schedule changes

8:45 AM- They make/eat breakfast together 🥺❤️

9:00 AM-12:20 PM- Nefarious evil doings

Makes some dad jokes to someone whose life he's about to ruin because he thinks he's hilarious

Also, says how he's so inconvenienced because "Don't people know I have a nine-year-old at home? And here I have to come and address people's idiotic mistakes..."

He's really milking his status as a father like it's a highly prestigious career

Might pick up some groceries & dry cleaning post-criminal activity. "Last time I picked up my shirts, they shrunk..." Gets the price half off after a subtle threat even though his shirts don't fit cause he's got a dad bod (It looks good on him! Stop being ashamed. Parenting is hard!)

Calls Sawyer

Judges people

Does some good PR stunts (charities, church, average Joe paparazzi pictures who's just a "good ol' single dad trying to make it work")

12:20 PM-2:20 PM- Lunch with daughter

Gives the other half of a sedative

Listens to her school updates

2:20 PM- Resumes nefarious evil doings

5:00 PM- Makes Vittoria a snack and supervises her downtime

Sewing, knitting, piano, art, reading about mythology

5:45 PM- Prepares dinner with Vittoria

He argues that she can't have buttered noodles for every meal

"No, chocolate chip cookies aren't their own food group...well Bugs Bunny was wrong."

6:20 PM- Dinner

"Yes, you have to eat your vegetables...no it wasn't made any different. You were there...Vittoria the texture is the exact same."

7:30 PM- Gets Vittoria ready for bed

8:30 PM-9:00 PM- Argues with Vittoria to get her to go to bed

"No, I won't read the story again. Why? Cause I just read it. No, bedtime is bedtime. What do you mean you have a project due tomorrow? No, just go to bed."

Reads to her one more time (she was very insistent), sprays the lavender in her room to get rid of the nightmares, tucks her in

9:45 PM- Finally gets ready for bed

Thinks about how he has to buy poster paper for his daughter

10:30 PM- Goes to bed

*3 AM- Vittoria wakes up and sneaks into his room*