#and like frankly? if nobody speaks up with there's issues nothing is ever going to be fixed

[lorillee]

ok well while im waiting for this wretched bus i think its a suitable time to share my y3 thoughts. as always not in any sort of real or coherent organization im not writing an essay so idgaf

overall: better than kiwami 2 ‘s main plot but again 65% of my beef with that game was kiryu/sayama. Which we have talked and complained about extensively

we’re just gonna talk as i remember so lets actually start with a complaint: Real question what on planet stupid earth whats the point of kazama’s brother

likw the yakuza series is frankly no stranger to cheap twists regarding their villains for no reason other than shock value but usually im able to forgive because its like not that important or alternatively really funny and not that important

but kazama having a younger brother is an INSANE thing to bring it and not elaborate on basically at all and do LITERALLY NOTHING WITH?!?!?!??!!??????!??? like THEY DIDNT EVEN USE IT AS A LENSE THROUGH WHICH TO EXPLORE EITHER KIRYU OR KAZAMA OR THEIR RELATIONSHIP TO EACH OTHER!?!?!!!!!!????!?! WHAT !!!!!!!!!

like no words. WHAT?

kind of pisses me off they killed off kashiwagi for like no reason at all also. Like his death did not affect the plot in legitimately any way and to be honest genuinely i did forget he died

^speaking more on this it also pisses me off they like did not explore or elaborate on kiryu’s feelings on this despite the fact that kashiwagi was the one person he had left from the pre kiwami 1 era And like. well we did nothing with this. makes me mad

lets also take a minute to discuss mine

like i think hes an interesting character and a fun antagonist for this game but my issue is i feel like they could have spent more time fleshing out his issues and his relationship with daigo and just a bit his beef with kiryu

like i think the setup for his obsession with daigo is there and you could do something reaaallly interesting with it like i said in that one post to mine it would seem that daigo was born with everything mine had ever wanted and i reaaallllyyy really so bad wish they had DONE something with that.

additionally while i like the interpretation of a one sided obsession in mine’s part it frustrates me that we got absolutely like nothing from daigo on his relationship with mine because i think even just a flashback scene or two wouldve gone a really long way in making this relationship something the audience gets invested in

like i think yakuza 0 did a much better job of tackling this issue and to be fair its not a 1:1 equivalent becasue its not like mine was not hanging out with kiryu but even though we dont see a ton of oda and tachibanas relationship on screen wrt them interacting with each other, the background we’re given on their story and odas devotion to tachibana does a lotttt of legwork in making it believable and interesting. whereas i feel like with mine. I dont even know but we got basically nothing on his relationship with daigo other than like 3 or 4 lines of dialogue and general insanity. and it frustrates me because we had something really good here but whatever

ok lets talk about something marginally more positive. personally really love kiryu starting up an orphanage really special to me watching him run around like a crazy person trying to manage being a single mother of 8

also absolutely adore the oldest daughter role haruka has taken on in this environment and the shape her dynamic with kiryu takes on as a result. its actually so special and so important. TO MEEEEE

lowkey(highkey) wish they had done more in terms of majima actively looking like the most dead inside person on planet earth but its whatever (kicks rocks

like consistently my issue with these games is that i feel like they have too much on their plate and theres about a thousand ideas and nobody wants to let go or streamline, so we kind of get a bunch of things that are relatively unremarkable and some things that are really interesting and have a lot of ground to build on but the problem is that because theres so much bloat everything gets the same amount of exploration. Which is like well ok thats fine when its not that important but i think we should go back. and elaborate on some of these more major points or just cut them out if you’re NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING WITH IT?!!!!!??!? but whatever

like to be clear im happy they introduced these concepts because now i can play around in this sandbox to make something interesting and compelling to me. but as a storytelling enthusiast it frustrates me

daigo waking up from a coma and immediately pulling out a gun to start shooting may seriously be one of the funniest moments in this entire series to date. Where was he hiding that thing. honestly entire game worth it just for this moment Who pitched it and how can i thank them

anyways so overall: had good concepts, some of them fumbled and others executed well, definitely enjoyed. We couldve had more majima though

[pennzance]

Ghostbusters: Port Huron (Episode 11)

Episode 11: The First Day

September 8th, 1998

Field operation report by Eric

Oh my god I want to go home.

I have never, in my entire life, felt the kind of pants-loading terror I have felt in the last 24 hours. I’m not even ashamed to say it, I have cried, screamed, and begged for my life more times in the last day than I thought I’d ever do in my lifetime. The things I have seen and heard and the feelings of sheer, out of my mind fear I have succumbed to repeatedly are like a crucible for the human soul that, should I survive it, will leave me either a broken shell of a man or the toughest son of a bitch to ever walk the Valley of Death.

The ghosts are nasty too.

MOST of my issues so far stem from the General. This guy is un-goddamn-real. I thought Amber was kind of a hard ass (every team needs one, apparently), but this guy takes the cake, the oven, and the entire bakery and chews all that scenery like he’s the villain in a bad translation of a Japanese RPG. He insists on being called General, and I’ll be honest I cannot tell if he has a real name because everyone just went along with it. He’s certifiably insane.

He took a real shine to Amber, too. He found out she was Air Force and I guess he was a Marine and there’s some friction there? She keeps calling him ‘the crayon eater’ when he isn’t in the room, so maybe there’s a funny story there I can get out of her later. Bryan and Jeremy figured out real fast that staying out of his way was the best way to deal with the man, but me? He zeroed in on me as the team leader and he… has not been kind about it.

Every time that man shouts “Port Huron, get over here!” my legs demand that I flee for the hills. My nerves are shot and frankly I was looking forward to going up against horrors I could legally blast with a Proton Pack.

But the problems started way before we got into Eloise. When we pulled up in the Ecto-908, the engine died all on its own. When Bryan tried to turn on the PKE Meter, it sparked and died. Nobody had ever seen that happen before. I breathed a sigh of relief when Jeremy booted up his Proton Pack, at least THOSE were working.

Equipment woes aside, we got ‘organized’ by the General. Our team, the twelve guys from the Flint branch, and the six people the Detroit branch sent altogether made for 22 Ghostbusters in one place. Some people might think that was overkill, but oh man would they be wrong.

The General’s plan was to start out on the outskirts of the property and work our way in. This would have been fine, but he also decided that throwing team cohesion out the window and making us all mix up was a good idea, and I’ve already filed a formal complaint about that nonsense.

And that’s how I ended up walking three miles to the opposite side of the Eloise compound with two guys I’d never met before on what promised to be the hardest day I’ve ever had since I became a Ghostbuster. Both of my new teammates were from Flint, one guy bigger than Jeremy named Dabonovich and a slightly smaller-but-still-big guy with a hat everyone kept calling Microwave. I’m sure that’s a nickname based off a joke I don’t get, and frankly I don’t have the desire to understand it anyway.

We started off on the eastern border of the property, near some of the buildings the county was able to knock down. Microwave’s PKE Meter was functioning out here, and before long we were finding vapors and slimers in groups. We were able to discorporate a lot of them, just nuetronize them right out of existence, but it was slow going. They weren’t particularly threatening, but there were a LOT of the buggers. Dabonovich is a good shot, and nothing seems to scare the guy, which is fine, but Microwave was a little more… I think the term Amber would use is ‘squirrely’. His eyes were always darting elsewhere when you would look at him and he wouldn’t speak above a mutter unless you said something.

About every 90 minutes or so, the General would drive up in his compensationally large truck. That’s what they were using to haul the mobile containment grid, which looked like a big red septic tank with the grid controls and panels stuck onto the side. The sight of it did not inspire a lot of confidence, let me tell you. He seemed disappointed we hadn’t caught anything substantial that would require the traps to be emptied yet but moved on his way.

The spooks weren’t the only issue we were running into. Since the place was covered in a lot of rubble that used to be buildings, there was a lot of debris everywhere. Twisted old bed frames, the remains of doors, the remains of walls, steel beams, glass, timber of various shapes and sizes, it was pretty much a minefield of tetanus hazards. Suffice to say, progress was slow.

The most enjoyable (for me) part of the day came when we found the body of a drifter who had been in one of the buildings when it had been bulldozed. Well, we found MOST of the body. What we did find had a unit tattoo that Microwave said was common among Vietnam veterans. Dabonovich was adamant we should give the guy a proper burial, and I agreed.

Then the day got way, way weird. I’ve never actually seen a ghost be… born? Created? I’m not sure what the terminology is. But the wind kicked up and there was this low noise. Microwave shouted that the PKE Meter was spiking, and I think I responded with a super sarcastic “Oh, really?”

I’m not much for the classification system in the employee handbook, but I’ll argue till I’m blue in the face that this was a Class 3, not a Class 4. To be a Class 4, we’d have to be able to identify the entity, and while I’m sure it was the ghost of the body we found, I don’t know who that was so I can’t say it was an identifiable entity. Anyway, splitting hairs here. What I DO know is this guy was an asshole, because he came out of the rubble swinging. Swinging rubble. It was the Ice Museum all over again.

Microwave took a brick to the head and went down like a house of cards. Dabonovich and I tried to hit it with the Packs, but it just shielded itself with a whirlwind of masonry. We had to get closer, and I had just the tool for the job.

I’d been lugging it around all day, and now I got a chance to plug the emitter hose into the gauntlet I had Jeremy put together for me. It was VERY warm, concerningly so, but I had bigger things to worry about. I shouted at Dabonovich to get the trap ready, grabbed a piece of sheet metal to use as a shield, and charged. Not my brightest move, but damn effective.

I know I got pelted by some stuff, and I’m feeling it right now, but I was able to break through the debris and punch that ghost right in the face. There was a moment of total shock, I think for both of us, and it started to scream at me, so I punched it again. I just kept punching it until Dabonovich came over and pulled me away, stomping the trap open and sucking the guy inside.

When the General came back around, we caught a ride back to the other side of the property to get Microwave checked out and myself patched up. The rest of the Port Huron crew came back gradually, all of us looking worse for wear, but nobody was badly injured. We piled back into the Ecto-908 and Amber’s Taurus and went back to the Best Western. Now that I’m done writing my report, I’m going to sleep off some of these bruises.

[terraliensvent]

reblogging this because i really agree with the points this anon made

to be specific to terraliens, the staff has always been terrible with criticism, theyre only just now taking the steps to have more member feedback on decisions through the google forms which i will give points for

but for as long as i can remember with the species, its a very “youre with us or against us” mentality; either you have criticism (and a brain) or you whiteknight for the mods (and there is a LOT of whiteknighting) and the people with criticism usually got dogpiled

remember when the architechals situation first dropped and nobody was allowed to talk about it? when imvibez (the main person who basically said “sooo are we gonna just sweep this under the rug?”) was shut down and even muted in the server for daring to “ruin the positive vibe” like???

as for my personal opinion (yall might hate me for this) i think the terraliens staff and community are just way too sensitive. if you ever have some sort of issue with the way things are run, its “why dont you make a ticket, this shouldnt be discussed here” or “wow this is getting a little heated, we should cut this off,” but frankly i dont think that all criticism should be some quiet thing that happens in the backrooms of the server. if you ever say anything negative about how slow approvals are, or how staff should really be working on the base foundations of the species instead of posting personal art in the staff-wip channel (seriously go check it out, the only real species related stuff theyve posted is just concepts for more dumb forageables nobody asked for), you have SEVERAL people who will leap down your throat at a moments notice: “but they work so harrrrddddd you have no idea how difficulttttt it isssss we love the mods theyre doing such a great jobbbbb,” listen, if you cant handle doing the work required to handle a community like this, then you shouldnt be doing it. running a species is a thing you CHOOSE to do voluntarily, at some point you need to suck it up and accept that shit needs to get done. its like those parents that have a kid and act surprised when a baby is hard work. people need to stop cutting off any sort of critique and stop derailing to suck mod dick, it’s infuriating and just silences people and it means that nothing will ever get better because youre too stuck in your echo chamber to let someone get criticized for once.

its like if you went to your job and you and all your coworkers said “hey i think we should be paid more,” then your boss responds “whoa whoa were kind of getting heated here, why dont you come to my office one by one,” then they can just say no. thats why critiques and discussions should be had out loud and in the open, so others can agree and build on your suggestion, and maybe for those who are too afraid to speak up alone (because lets be fr, terra staff are extremely petty and passive aggressive) will be able to voice their opinion if they know they wont be immediately ostracized

yk, apes together strong and all that

also, another thing that’s tangentially related, gotta love how FAST they quietly took away the suggestion threads that were fought so hard for. just another way they can silence criticism because now, nobody else will see the suggestions besides mods. if someone suggests the perfect solution to a problem, but mods think its too much work to lift their damn fingers and fix it, they can just throw it away and pretend it never existed. fucking amazing.

The main common denominator between species with dedicated vent blogs are staff and owners who shut down any and all feedback and criticism. Another commonality is being ban-happy against members for minor slights.

Wyngro isn’t as relevant now but in my opinion is a perfectly clear example of this. They made major decisions that upset the majority of their community, and instead of listening or compromising, they banned everyone who spoke out. This happened multiple times until the species inevitably lost its community entirely.

I see this echoed with Succubuns and Terraliens most, which are also the CS with the most active dedicated vent blogs.

If you run a species, and you’re afraid of having it come up on vent blogs? The biggest thing you can do is learn to take criticism well. Someone saying they think your species could use more FTO-friendly mechanics isn’t personally attacking you. Someone saying that MYO approvals are too nitpicky and inconsistent isn’t trying to insult you.

Obviously, sometimes, even species that do their best will end up on vent blogs if they piss off the wrong person, but in the end, pissing off one person who posts one vent or leaves your species individually is better than pissing off an entire community to the point where they make a whole dedicated blog to let out the criticism you refuse to accept face-to-face.

🌸

[tshifty]

.

[dancingwiththefae]

I saw your post a few days ago about chords and someone being unkind about it to you and I wasn't gonna say anything (cause I don't have kids) but it's been on my mind ever since. I don't think it's wrong to relate to it as a parent. It's like telling Joey and Madeleine they shouldn't write about parents struggling. Idk. It feels stupid to me. They write songs for people to relate to them. To put yourself on someone's else shoes. I can relate to it and I don't even want kids. They don't have any and they wrote it. Why would they if it was for nobody to relate to it? Admitting you understand what it is about because you've had a difficult time as a parent is not bad. It's pretty brave actually. Parents struggling is kinda taboo and it's very stupid that more people can't speak about how difficult it is to be responsible for the life and health of another human being. I don't get how anybody could fault you for relating to that song and those who do need to fucking grow up and learn that people aren't perfect.

I was debating whether or not to reply to this, not because I don’t appreciate this message, I totally do. But you know what? Let’s talk about parenthood. Here is the original post that I made when the album came out. This is ending up being a long post so I’m going to stick a lot of it under a read more and then anyone who is not interested can scroll on by. Seriously, just scroll on by. And anyone who purposefully misinterprets anything I say, I will not engage with you. I am not talking about abusive parents, never have been. I’ve been there. I know.

I would like to say though, that it is not necessarily having a difficult time as a parent. More so that almost every parent has felt like they are not good enough, even if they are (I am). I don’t for a second think that I am in any way special for having a child, nor do I think anyone who doesn’t want one should have one. It doesn’t unlock some secret understanding to human existence. It’s simply a part of life you may engage in. At the same time, no one who isn’t a parent understands what it is like to be a parent. That is just a fact.

Also, TW for post-natal depression, near death experience and injury.

Let’s start with a story. Yesterday my child hit their head pretty badly and we spent all of yesterday in hospital. Mostly waiting around, keeping him happy and calm (and distracted). I felt like a failure. I went to bed at 1am and I felt like a failure. It was a total accident. Nothing could be done about it. I couldn’t stop feeling like I could have prevented it. Should have prevented it. It’s conditioned within you to believe that you should bear the sole responsibility of their lives, even the things that nobody has any control over. In actuality, I did pretty well. And so did they.

On to the song. The song depicts a pivotal moment in a parent-child relationship when the children are grown up and move out of the family home. The song is from the perspective of the parents. I find it a little jarring that I do not see anyone analysing their thoughts and feelings even though the song is about them. But rather taking it solely from the perspective of the children who are absent from the song. (Any other parents who feel things about this song make yourself known). The most I see is that madeleines character may or may not have mental health issues. To me that’s a bit of a cop out. “Mental health issues” covers such a wide range of things and sticking that phrase on the character of a mother and moving on is a little undeserving. Did she suffer post-natal depression? Was she supported? Was the father?

Post-natal depression is extremely serious and frankly there are not enough resources out there to help those struggling. I suffered badly. Note: my child did not. But it ravages your body and mind until there is nothing left of you. What nobody will ever talk about though, is that years later, those feelings of guilt over not being good enough stay with you. Doesn’t help that everyone and their dog love to tell you it too. Unwarranted parental advice that is actually saying “you’re not doing this well enough and I think you should change”.

And this is on top of the fact that I actually almost died having them. And not even having a second to myself to recover because immediately I am feeding a baby every 2 hours, changing them, holding them and soothing them as I attempt to come back from almost the dead. Me and my husband slept in 2 hour shifts for weeks after because they would not settle unless they were in our arms. I won’t lie to you, it was hell. But then of course you can’t say that because how dare you have any negative feelings about this life changing thing that will take up all day every day for the rest of your life that you chose to do (side note: NEVER say this. Some people did not have the choice). Those were the “winter nights”.

I am not at the stage the parents in chords are. My child is still young. I miss the baby they were, even though it was hard. Is that so bad of me? Is it so bad of Madeleines character to miss her children being small? Would Joeys tell her she was loved and enough if she was so terrible?

At the end they come together to wish their child well, also to say that they are welcome to lay all the blame at their door and they will not love them any less. Hasn’t everyone bad mouthed their parents to their friends? Even if It wasn’t wholly justified? Hasn’t everyone had arguments and disagreements with people that they live in close quarters with for years? The way I personally understand it is that my child can think of me as the worst person in the world because I can take it. I can take it from them. One day I hope they see me through their adult perspective, not simply through being my child (as many people do when they grow up). If they don’t, that’s fine. I know that I did everything I could for them. I have no maternal instincts for other children. I am autistic and struggle to relate to kids. I would move heaven and earth for my own. In the midst of lockdown when I was mostly on my own all day with a baby and then a toddler, I taught him to talk and read, to play football (I hate football, they love it), to dance (I am dyspraxic), sign language (I learnt it for this reason. We learn together), the list goes on. I am confident that no one on this earth can tell me I am a bad parent. I am a FANTASTIC parent.

I wish people could have a little more nuance than “every parent has to be perfect in every way and if they are ever not then they are bad parents.” You simply don’t understand parenthood. People are still people just because they have children. I didn’t stop feeling like me when I had a baby. I still feel like a child amongst adults who doesn’t know what they’re doing (like everyone else). I’m still winging a lot of parenthood (like everyone else) because raising a child is not in a book. I’m not raising a dog or a robot or a textbook “baby”. I’m raising a human being with their own unique thoughts and emotions who is going through the frankly awful time of working out who they are and how they fit into this world.

Chords is about parents. Please respect parents. But I have still deleted the song from my library and have it blacklisted. I simply cannot engage with that guilt anymore. 

[diavolosthots]

Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.

I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊

For request

First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.

If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!

I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!

(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)

Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut

Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish

THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)

Lucifer:

Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all. 

“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?” 

Mammon:

Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness. 

“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying. 

Leviathan:

His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now. 

“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”

Satan:

For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes 

“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…” 

Asmodeus:

How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin. 

“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?” 

Beelzebub:

Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought… 

“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”

Belphegor:

Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first… 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.” 

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 25/2021) - The Red Banquet

The day has finally come.

All the preparations have been completed. The invitations have been sent out. Everything has been leading up to this moment, and the Eggpire is ready to make their move.

It’s time for the Red Banquet.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Captain Puffy

Badboyhalo

Antfrost

Eret

Skeppy

Ranboo

---

- Puffy walks around on the surface. Everything is prepared, the armor is where it should be. She hopes everything will go well.

- Everyone is dressed up for the occasion (except George). Hannah, Niki, Fundy, Eret, George and HBomb are all there.

- Bad says hello to Ponk in the Egg Room. Ponk tells him that no one has arrived yet. Antfrost greets them by the entrance and they go up the stairs to find Niki waiting. 

- Puffy and the other guests soon enter the room as well. Antfrost points them towards a coat room where they can put all their items. Foolish arrives with the Rolexes. They drink some cider, head to the dance floor and play some tunes.

- Bad comes over and greets Puffy. Foolish informs Bad that he peed on the Egg. Sam also has a dumpy and HBomb has two of Fundy’s cocks. 

- Antfrost goes off to speak with Ponk alone and check for some last guests. They watch as George arrives.

Ant: “He looks sort of lost, but that’s okay -- we welcome everybody here.”

Ponk: “Hold up...I don’t know...hmm. Hmm...”

Ant: “I mean, he looks harmless enough.”

Ponk: “We need to get a real good look at him first. Quickly.”

Ponk: “I don’t know what that’s about.”

Ant: “I don’t know. Well, we’ll just keep an eye on him.”

Ponk: “Yeah...”

- They then go speak to HBomb and Niki. H hasn’t stopped dancing

HBomb: “I’m doing my best impersonation of a white dad.”

...

Ant: “Did you guys notice that the guy over there -- George -- just sort of wandered in? He seems sort of lost.”

Ponk: “I feel like he’s hiding something.”

- From the walls, Ranboo in a shadowy outfit can be seen watching. 

- HBomb is the DJ.

- Bad comes over to say that dinner is ready. Bad tells Puffy that they have shrimp cocktails and they all go to sit at the table. Some people are in jail and weren’t able to attend. Ponk cooked all the food.

- Bad welcomes the guests to give toasts to the meal.

First up is Foolish, who says that he hopes that after today, nobody has to say “turn a new leaf” or “let bygones be bygones” ever again. Everyone has come here in agreement in the hope of something new.

Next is Eret. 

Eret: “As the monarch of the SMP, it’s awesome to be able to maybe see the SMP going back to being reunified again, and seeing all of us not have to worry about fighting each other on different sides. I hope this is a new chapter of the entire community as a whole. Cheers to that.”

Then Ponk steps up. Long ago, an old, wise man told him “People change like the tides in the ocean.” Now he truly knows they do.

Puffy steps forward. Bad and Antfrost, she considers as friends, and the Egg has separated them. She hopes this brings them all together and makes the server more peaceful. 

George was asleep twenty minutes ago. He asks about the soup. Ponk says it’s made from organic, free-range beets.

Finally, Bad says he appreciates everyone coming. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to come together and let bygones be bygones. To set aside past issues to grow and advance forward, even with the wrongs that have been done. 

- He nods to Antfrost, who breaks a block behind them, revealing a button. Antfrost presses it.

Bad: “I was very, very happy that we were able to gather everybody here together for what is, I’m sure, going to be a banquet that none of us are ever going...to...forget.”

- Lava starts pouring down from the ceiling, walling them in.

Bad: “Yep. Prepare to die.”

- Everyone panics. 

- Puffy tells Bad that she didn’t trust the Eggpire anyway, and planned for this. She removes the cover from the table and looks into the chest -- it’s empty.

- They watch as the Eggpire members all don the diamond armor that Puffy and Sam had prepared. Hannah says she had to do it, had to tell them. For the Egg.

- Sam says that he had another plan, because he didn’t trust the Eggpire. He’s tired of all this fighting, and it’s about time that they blow up the Egg for good this time.

- Sam flicks the TNT lever and the explosives rain down on the Egg. When they explode, though, the Egg turns into crying obsidian instead of getting destroyed, reverting back to normal Egg blocks after a few seconds.

- After Quackity’s attack, Bad and the others took preparations to make sure that the Egg wouldn’t be vulnerable to TNT anymore. Now, it’s time for the executions.

Bad: “You see, the Egg needs something, and it’s gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the Egg to hatch, it needs energy. And it gets that energy by people dying near it. And that’s the role that you guys are gonna fill! We’re gonna kill you, one by one--”

Eret: “You’re a monster.”

Bad: “What’d you say, Eret?”

Eret: “You’re an absolute monster. How could you. We all trusted you, Bad!”

Ponk: “Trust! Okay, Eret. Keep talking. Keep talking about trust.”

Eret: “...That was a long time ago.”

- Bad says that Eret is the perfect person to sacrifice first! He leads Eret to a spot in front of the Egg lined with Netherite blocks.

- Foolish steps forward, saying he’s had enough. The Egg can shield itself against TNT, but can it withstand lightning?

- Nothing happens. Bad laughs.

Bad: “You really thought, Foolish? You thought you could enter the Egg’s domain and beat it in a battle of power? Come on...you’re in the Egg’s territory, Foolish.”

- The Egg is suppressing Foolish. Ant suggests they start with Foolish instead and take Eret’s life later.

- Puffy steps forward. She and Antfrost shout at each other. Puffy says she gave them chance after chance. Antfrost says that Puffy betrayed them first.

Ant: “Foolish, your own son, is about to be slaughtered because of you!”

Puffy: “I’m only one person!”

Foolish: “Puffy, Puffy, it’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

Puffy: “NO! It’s not alright!”

Ant: “Puffy, you could have stopped this if you had stayed with the Eggpire. But this is your fault.”

- Antfrost kills Foolish with a sword.

---

CANON DEATH: FOOLISH

Cause: Sacrificed by Antfrost to the Egg

---

- Everyone screams in horror. The Eggpire wonders who to kill next.

- Suddenly, Quackity shouts at them to stop and drops into the room. He tells Bad to calm down. He puts on diamond armor.

- Quackity tells them they’ve just killed a man, asking if this is what they wanted. Bad tells him that he’s doing all this for the Egg, for what the Egg can give them.

Quackity: “I’m telling you, Bad, you’re a pawn to power. You’re nobody, Bad. You’re working for something that, quite frankly, doesn’t even care about you. I mean look at the Egg, look at the Egg! Look at what it means! It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, Bad. So how about...how about we just stop playing games.”

- As Quackity monologues, he subtly slips Puffy a Netherite axe, potion of strength and a golden apple.

- Bad can’t stop, or else he can’t get what he needs. 

Bad: “Guess what, Quackity. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve brought more than just yourself. You should’ve brought an army.”

Quackity: “Guess what, Bad? I did! I did. In fact, I brought the next best thing...I brought my biggest enemy!”

- Technoblade logs on and drops into the room, his hoard of dogs following.

- Not only that...Quackity also went looking across the lands for the best mercenary he could find. Purpled drops into the room as well.

Bad: “We HIRED you to take out Puffy, and you join the enemy’s side?!”

Purpled: “Bad, to be frank with you, Quackity just had the better price.”

- Techno explains that he didn’t want to work with Quackity, but the Egg is too great a danger to the server and it’s against everything he stands for.

- Suddenly, Puffy jumps forward with her axe, attacking Ant. The Eggpire is shocked that she has a weapon.

Puffy: “You’ve taken my kindness for weakness, Antfrost!”

---

CANON DEATH: ANTFROST

Cause: Killed by Puffy with an axe

---

- A fight breaks out. Bad shouts for the remaining Eggpire members to retreat. They run out. Quackity orders Purpled to go track them down.

- Bad leads the Eggpire out. They can regroup later. For now, they have to run. They have to split up. They can’t get caught, they have to stay safe and go as fast as they can.

- Alone, Bad thinks to himself.

Bad: “This is such a trainwreck. This whole plan...everything was for this moment! And it’s gone! They -- they have the Egg now...they have it. What can I do? I can’t do anything! I need to get out of here. I need resources...”

“Wait, I know where I can go. I know who I can see...but the Egg, the Egg is -- it’s in their possession right now. What can I do? What can I do against it? I can’t do anything, they have it! I needed the Egg, I needed...I needed what it was gonna give. It was gonna help me get what I wanted, but now they have it...they have it...I just...I just wanted what...I just wanted what it could give me.”

“I didn’t really -- I didn’t really want to hurt anybody. I just wanted what it could give me, but...I don’t know. Did I screw up? Am I in the wrong here? I don’t know...I just need to go. I need to get out of here.”

- Bad starts rowing away into the ocean.

- Quackity asks Sam what to do next. The Egg is invincible.

- Purpled lost them in the labyrinth. Sam says he’ll build a prison for the Egg if he has to. He wants to find a way to destroy it, but for now they need to lock it away where it can’t be accessed.

- Quackity makes sure everyone is alright. They then exit the room through the whole in the wall. Quackity tells Techno to come with him and Sam to talk. They leave the others to escape the rest of the way.

- They make it to the surface, relieved. HBomb hands them all soup to remember the event by.

- Puffy goes off on her own down the Prime Path. While she talks to herself, Ranboo walks down the path with potion particles coming off of him.

Puffy: “What did I do? What -- I...My son died! And I killed my best friend! I...I need to find Foolish. I...I don’t even know who I am anymore. The life I swore to protect, I didn’t at all, and then I took one myself! I don’t even...I...I can’t do this anymore. I just...can’t.”

- Eret mourns Foolish after the events of the Banquet. Foolish sacrificed his life for Eret, so at the very least he should be commemorated.

Eret: “I don’t even feel like I knew him that well...which makes things even harder. He’s helped me out with so many things, just from the kindness of his heart. He claimed to know me. He claimed to know a me which I don’t even remember... And he sacrificed himself for me.”

“At the very least, I need to commemorate his sacrifice, I...I should’ve been the one to die, not him.”

- Eret builds a Totem statue in his fortress. 

RIP Foolish I’ll miss you, old friend.

- Eret builds a replica of the Egg in their museum.

- Ranboo logs on in his house. He decides to go around the main area today and fix some stuff. His inventory is quite empty, so he grabs stacks of grass blocks from a chest and heads out.

- He heads over to the main area and remarks that the server is beginning to look okay now that the Blood Vines are gone.

- He notices some posters for the Red Banquet.

Ranboo: “Oh, that was today! ...Cool!”

- He carries on and runs into Sam near the Community House. They exchange some steak. Sam says he’s collecting materials for the bank, as people need it now more than ever. 

- Sam suggests Ranboo invest money and charge cash for his hotel. Ranboo points out that they already have currency in the form of emeralds and diamonds. Sam explains his waiver idea for the bank.

- Also, Sam needs to build a vault. People can come and rent a spot to lock away important items. 

- Ranboo asks if you can lock away people in the vault. Sam says that’s what Pandora’s Vault is for already.

- Sam mentions that they’ll put the Egg in there. Ranboo asks what makes this different from regular storage. Sam says it’s more secure.

- Sam and his associates will be there day and night to actively defend everyone’s belongings. Ranboo asks how many guards Sam has under his command. Sam says quite a few.

- Why now? Sam says there’s no time like right now and quotes Oogway.

- Sam doesn’t plan on charging interest. He just wants to establish a better system of trade on the server.

- Ranboo explains to chat that he can use this system to make infinite money by trading emeralds and diamond armor.

- What if someone is, say, already quite rich on the server? Sam says the trade and the guard of supplies is most important. 

- Ranboo asks how fragile the system would be. What would it take to bring it down?

- Sam says a whole nuke. Ranboo replies that he was thinking systematically. He asks how the Great Depression happened and Sam explains inflation and the circumstances for economic crises. 

- Sam gives Ranboo a “prototype Sam dollar.” (One iron ingot)

- They go to Hannah’s house to steal and then find an anvil in the spider spawner to name the ingot “Smollar.” They go down the tunnel and Sam says that Ranboo shouldn’t go down to the Egg Room. It’s under quarantine.

- He’s planning on moving the Egg and asks if Ranboo heard what happened. Ranboo didn’t. Sam fills him in in the Egg Room. Ranboo is curious about the Egg turning into obsidian and picks up a piece of the Blood Vines, suggesting Sam do some experiments.

- They exit the Egg Room and find some strange llamas. Ranboo shoves a chest in Drip Llama.

- Ranboo, Sam, and Foolish breed a ton of llamas to begin the Industrial Revolution.

- Bad comes over and becomes one with the llamas to cope. Foolish turns into a L’manburg Llama and is promptly slaughtered by Ranboo.

- Ranboo, Bad and Foolish create a gigantic llama train.

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- Tommy’s plan

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

- The Banquet aftermath

---

END OF WEEK RECAP:

4/19 - Nothing much happens.

4/20 - Nothing much happens.

4/21 - HBomb makes a diamond game, Jack plans to open a pub sidechain for his hotel business

4/22 - Tubbo shows Tommy how to make TNT cannons

4/23 - Puffy, Foolish, Hannah and Sam meet on Cloud Prime to discuss the Banquet, Ranboo’s Enderwalk Saga: “The Lessons”

4/24 - HBomb’s diamond game, George’s anniversary dream, Bad hands out invitations

4/25 - THE RED BANQUET.

[reidyoulikeabook]

A is for Ankle Socks

Summary: The first installment in my A-Z of Spencer Reid series. Spencer Reid is very particular about his socks.

Ship: fem ! BAU reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussions of case-typical violence, blood, brief description of a fight, minor injury to reader that requires some stitches.

A/N: hello! this is my first ever series and i’m very nervous about it! it’s going to be a chronological a-z series with Spencer, detailing the progression of your relationship!

Spencer Reid permanently wears odd socks. The only time you can recall him wearing matching ones, in the year you’ve known him, was on days he had to go to court. Then, it was required that he wear the technically mandated uniform of proper leather shoes, and monochrome socks. On those days, Hotch would turn up with a pair of black socks tucked into his briefcase, just in case. Spencer had needed them, twice.

However, today is not a court day. Today is day 8 of a case in back of beyond Oregon that, quite frustratingly, seems to be going absolutely nowhere.

It says quite a lot, really, that in a day spent combing over convicts with domestic violence charges, the sight you look up to see is more viscerally disturbing. Spencer’s perched on the end of a desk, as he so often seems to be, his ankles crossed over each other. Signature black converse on his feet. And he appears...not to be wearing socks?

He notices you looking at him, and flicks his eyes downward self-consciously, “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing socks?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Uh. No. I meant to go to the laundrette last night but then Hotch called us into that meeting. I wasn’t expecting to be out here this long.”

“Is it comfortable?” You ask, “Wearing those without socks?”

He kicks his feet around just slightly, “Not really. I guess I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned.”

“Sorry,” You say, with an apologetic smile.

“Not your fault,” He says, looking back at the paperwork in his lap, “Hey would you mind coming to take a look at this actually? I think I might have something.”

***

By day 2, you’d learnt that the only sandwich shop in town had a reputation for bad food hygiene that none of you felt like risking. Normally, everyone would roll their eyes at Spencer for his investigation into such things. However, in this case, everyone else seemed to be as thankful as you always were.

It’s your turn to do the lunch run today, so you head to the grocery store that isn’t too far out of town. Putting your car in park, you mentally run through the list that the team had given you: cheap pasta for everyone but Rossi, who was willing to risk running foul of their microwave meal selection, as many coffee supplies as you could manage, some sour gummy worms for Spencer, mineral water for Hotch, and tights for you. It was frankly quite impractical to wear the things. You ran through so many brambles, fell down so many times, that you almost felt you should get pantyhose hazard pay. In fall in Oregon though? You’d splash out the $6 for the sake of preventing frostbite. If only because Hotch would be furious.

You smile at the thought. Wandering through the aisles, you collect everything you need. Spencer only asked for a pack of sour gummy worms, but, with a smile on your face, you decide to get him the strawberry laces he likes too.

It’s only when you scan the cart, last minute, that you realise what you’ve forgotten.

Tights. Shit.

Wheeling the cart around, you weave through the aisles looking for them. The underwear aisle is aisle 20, and it looks like it’s been ransacked. Flicking through the disorganised display, you see them.

A five pack of socks, adorned with farm animals and backgrounds of a completely clashing colour. It’s almost too bright for you, but you know a certain sockless Spencer who will be sure to appreciate them. Out of curiousity, you navigate your way over to the men’s section and have a look through. Mostly, it’s all black and navy. Right at the back though, you spy a similarly garish looking pack, this time with vegetables on.

You put them in the basket, eyes flickering over a pair of matching aubergine patterned boxers, as you make your way over to the tights. You select your usual kind, turning your attention back to the boxers.

Is it weird to get him boxers?

He’d know it was a joke, right?

Is it weird to get him socks?

Well he didn’t have any

Yeah but you don’t need to get him two packs

Yes I do we might be here a while

10 more days?

He could fall. He could spill coffee on his shoes. He could get shot.

How would socks help with him getting shot?

Your internal monologue gives you a moments reprieve, and then.

Kinda weird you got him socks

Nobody else would have got him socks

Yeah well I’m just thoughtful.

The last thought crosses your mind without permission, and you almost bristle at the brazenness of your lie to yourself. However, you decide, examining the real reasons you’re so eager to provide comfort to your favourite co-worker would require mental stamina you didn’t have right now. Mental stamina that would be better put to use on the case at hand. Mental stamina that definitely wasn’t being used to employ the BAU’s favourite defense mechanism: denial.

***

“I got you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Spencer spins around in his chair to face you.

“Yep,” You say, plopping the sweets down onto the desk in front of him and grinning.

“Strawberry laces!” He says, smile lighting up his face, “Thanks ____!”

“That’s not the surprise.”

He quirks his brow, confusion tugging at his features, “Then what’s the surprise?”

You untuck your arms from behind your back, handing him the pairs of socks.

He looks down at them. He’s silent for a moment, and your heart thuds.

Fuck.

Told you it was weird.

It’s definitely weird.

He definitely thinks you’re-

You don’t have time to finish that thought, however, because Spencer scoots his chair back. Standing up, he pulls you into a hug. He gently squeezes you, and when he speaks his voice is low, cracking a little.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

You lean into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped, “No problem. I know you have some issues with sensory things sometimes and I just thought, you know,” you trail off, “Anyway, I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer and I know you like to mix and match anyway so I just got both.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes you again, tighter this time, before releasing you. Strangely, he won’t meet your eye as he does.

“I’m gonna go put them on, okay?”

“Okay,” You say, watching a little quizically as he hurriedly heads out of the room.

Derek happens to be heading back to the room, bumping into Spencer on his way out.

“You alright kid?” He asks.

“I'm fine," Spencer says, waving him off. He tries to avoid meeting Derek’s eyes, knowing as well as he does that if the profiler catches the look on his face he’ll be found out.

Derek allows him to shrug past him with a confused glance over his shoulder. He walks into the room, scooping the nearest file off the desk and asking in your general direction, “You know what’s up with him?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the p.

You don’t. And it’d bother you, except you genuinely don’t have time right now to dwell on it. Although, try as you might to focus on narrowing down this list of factories in the area, it niggles at you.

***

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re heading out to the unsubs location. You get called out by Hotch in the minute before he returns, and then it’s all guns blaring. Emily and Dave managed to work some magic with Penelope, and the place he’s holding the hostage has been narrowed down to a factory quite far out of town.

You’re perched in the back, discussing entry tactics with Hotch when your eyes travel down to Spencer’s shoes.

One chicken, and one broccoli sock sit on his left and right feet respectively. It’s hard to see them though, with how far they are down his feet.

Hotch answers his phone then, immediately barking down commands at the local PD who are apparently failing to summon adequate manpower, in Hotch’s opinion at least.

You take the moment to cautiously lean over to Spencer, whispering, “Were they not the right size?”

He smiles at you, “They fit just fine as ankle socks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check the sizes, womens ones are pretty much all one size. I completely forget that men have massively different sized feet.”

He laughs, “Are you suggesting I have huge feet?”

You feel yourself flush a little, “I don’t think that’d necessarily be an inaccurate suggestion.”

Amused, he smiles. Hotch turns around to you both, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, “I need you to call Penelope, and tell her to get us all the CCTV she can get in the area. If we’re going to have to go in without enough men to cover the perimeter we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get.”

“Of course, sir.”

***

Lunging forward, you tackle the unsub to the ground, effectively freeing Spencer from the grasp he’d previously been held in.

“It’s over Peter,” Hotch’s voice comes, even and steady.

“No it’s not.”

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re being tossed backwards, landing against some barbed wire. Immediately, you’re on your feet again, running after him. Not noticing how the wire has ripped a hole in your tights, and cut into your leg a little.

Grabbing his arms behind him, you use all your strength to subdue him to the floor, handcuffing him. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

Derek has it from there, patting you on the shoulder and giving you a “Good job kiddo.” He leads Peter out.

You rub your chest, feeling the adrenaline start to flood out of your body with all the excitement now over. A stinging senstation in your calf gets your attention, and looking down you see the nasty wound oozing blood. It isn’t much, nothing that two stitches won’t fix.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having gotten up from his position on the floor, “You didn’t have to...Derek would have gotten him.”

“Why should he be the only one that gets to tackle people?” You ask, letting out a breathless tinkle of a laugh.

“Statistically, he is the one who does the most tackling out of all of us. Then Hotch, then Emily, then Rossi, then me, then you.”

“I am not the one that tackles the least,” You say indignantly.

He tips his head to the side, “Are you gonna argue with the guy who has an eidetic memory or are we going to get you stitched up?”

“Both, please.”

He laughs at that, linking his arm around your waist. You limp against him a little, out to the paramedics. Mostly it’s for Spencer’s benefit. That’s what you tell yourself, you’re letting him help you so he doesn’t feel emasculated.

When has Spencer Reid ever fallen pray to toxic masculinity?

He might have

When?

Well he could

You just like how he smells

It’s true. The faint waft of his cologne is incredibly comforting. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you for even a second, helping to hoist you so you can sit on the ambulance bed while the medics attend to your leg. You’re feeling a little woozy, so Spencer sits next to you, allowing you to lean on him for support.

“Can you tell me something?” You ask, gritting your teeth, “Distract me?”

It doesn’t really hurt, getting stitched up, you’ve just never found it the most comfortable of processes. All your favourite cases have ended with you not having to get sewn up. You know that much.

“I’ve actually only tackled one more person than you in my entire BAU career,” He says, deciding to return to your former discussion, “I didn’t really go out in the field all that much until a couple years in, it was only because of Hotch that I really went out in the field to take down an unsub for the first time. That was March 12th, 2005. You’ve only been here 9 months and have done almost as much physical stuff as me. One more and we’re even.”

“Well, if you could try not to be the person getting tackled by the unsub next time. Then I might not have to make a tackle.”

His mouth turns up at the corner, “You tackled him for me?”

You feel yourself growing embarassed, “Not for you. For the socks.”

“Oh the socks?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little unfair to go putting yourself in harms way while wearing a gift someone got for you. 5 dollar socks Spencer, practically designer at that price, I’d hate to see them ruined day one.”

He laughs, his tone playful, “Well you’ll need to bare that in mind.”

“Huh?”

He tilts his head towards Emily, strutting her way across to the ambulance with Spencer’s go-bag in her arms. She hands it to him, smiling at you.

“Should I let Morgan know the team will no longer be in need of his services?”

You snort, “I’d hate to steal his brand.”

She shakes her head, “Drinks when we get back? Hotch said the jet’s ready for whenever you’re done, and Rossi says he’s buying.”

“You got it,” You nod.

She pats you on the shoulder, exaggeratedly eyeing your leg again and rolling her eyes as she walks away, “Idiot.”

You smile, turning back towards Spencer, “Are you coming for drinks? I can drive you home.”

He visibly considers it for a moment, “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’re all done here,” The paramedic interrupts, wiping down your leg with an anti-bacterial wipe, “Was a really smooth tear for barbed wire, shouldn’t leave that much of a scar.”

They press a bandage over it and you thank them, getting to your feet with the help of Spencer.

“Wait, why’d you get Emily to bring your go-bag if we’re going home?”

He looks almost bashful. Out of his bag, he pulls a three pack of tights. Just the kind you always wear. Down to your preferred brand, and everything.

“When did you-?”

“I noticed you rip them a lot while we’re on cases. I didn’t know if it was weird but then...the socks?” He gestures at his feet, floundering, “I’m sorry if that’s...I just didn’t-”

“No,” You cut off his ramble, “No, Spencer, that’s really sweet. Thank you, thank you so much. Can I hug you?”

He nods, happily. You wrap him into your arms, pressing your face against his chest. Inhaling the scent of him. Reveling in how safe you feel, how protected, thinking how you’d take three hundred stitches if it meant you got Spencer out of harms way. He was so thoughtful, so kind, so attentive to detail.

Oh fuck.

You can barely look at him. It hits you like a train, the realisation. Co-workers save each other from unsubs. Friends buy each other gifts that have meaning and value. But only somebody who is in love feels like this when they get handed tights. Oh.

It’s a warm feeling. Overwhelming. So much so that you miss Spencer saying he’ll be right back, scooting off to Rossi who’s shouting him over with a question the local PD need answering for their report.

You stumble a little, thankful that you have the blood loss and adrenaline rush to blame if anybody were to notice.

You wait for the wave of denial to hit, to come and lock your feelings back in the treasure chest you’ve managed to shove them down into now. It doesn’t come. Instead, you look at Spencer with a sense of awe that feels newfound, but has actually been here all along. Watching him speak to Rossi, you really notice him: just how much he gestures with his hands, how quickly he relays information, how the huge smile on his face, when he turns around to notice you staring, truly meets his eyes.

***

You can’t tell if it makes you a good profiler, or somewhat of a stalker, that you notice Spencer wears the ankle socks you got him to work everyday for the next 9 days.

Spencer worries he’s being a little too obvious, but he can’t help that whenever he sees the socks he beams at them. They remind him of you. Unbeknownst to everybody but Dave (who somehow notices everything), he spends a good minute or so a day sneaking a peek at the novelty socks under his converse. And then trailing his eyes over to you. Thinking how much he loves the person who got them for him.

----

B is for Blindfolds

Tagslist (this is just people who replied to the post about this series and said they’d like to be tagged! let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to this series masterlist): @reidingmelodies @rem-ariiana

[ghostdrew22]

Burning From The Inside Out || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: slight angst, slight smut, swearing, mentions of abuse and self-harm Summary: Draco and Y/N evolve from fake dating to friends with benefits to… nothing? Commitment issues, and a general distaste for love, stand in the way of the two of them becoming more.

WORDS : 4710

Lyric snippets I used are from “Love Song” by YUNGBLUD and they’re not in chronological order.

<~>

“All I learned growing up was that love chewed me up Spit me out on the pavement next to the cuts And the blood that my mum and dad would Always take out on each other.”

Draco had always thought that love was fake- a neurological con job meant to bring your guard down and distract you from the more important things in life such as money, sex and success. It made sense why he felt that way- having grown up watching his parents claw at each other until blood was caught between their nails and the venom from their harsh words was lacing the atmosphere so thickly, it felt like a fog- he was bound to think that love didn’t exist.

So when his friends began ask why he wasn’t dating one of the many people that were basically falling at his feet, he froze up. How could he have possibly explained that he thought love was a ridiculous waste of time because he’d watched his parents approach to it and it scarred him so much that he wanted to leave the whole thing alone? He couldn’t. So he did the next best thing, he asked you to fake-date him.

It was a ludicrous idea, you both knew that, but you were his best friend for years and you loved him an immeasurable amount so you figured that there was no harm in helping him out. Besides, you had a lot of people hot on your trail too and you just weren’t interested in romantically committing to anyone- more attracted to the concept of sex with no strings than to the idea of being in a long-term romantic relationship with someone.

But in all honestly, you still don’t know why you’d agreed to do it, it was stupid and a very obvious recipe for disaster. I mean in the moment it had felt like a good enough idea to get Harry Potter off of your back and Pansy Parkinson off of his, but even at the time you knew that you were playing with fire and one of you was bound to get burned.

And the thought surfaced again when you two crossed territory from friends to friends with benefits. It had started with an innocent kiss on his cheek now and then- to convince everyone that you two were actually dating- but as the weeks went by and people began to get suspicious about your lack of PDA (considering Draco’s possessive nature and your touchy nature) it became apparent that the two of you had to up your game. And one afternoon when you were kissing him on the way to class, a switch seemed to flip and soon enough you were pressed up against the broom closet wall as he sunk himself deep inside your walls- trying then and there to drown every inch of you with his touch, to leave every part of you scorching with the feel of him.

It definitely wasn’t love, that much you knew. It was more just an insatiable hunger to destroy one another - to be the best that either of you had ever had so that you would both be ruined for whoever dared to come next. Maybe that should’ve been the first red flag, the first time you noticed just how toxic your little routine was, but it didn’t matter then and frankly, it doesn’t matter much to you now. Because with him logic is quickly thrown out the window and all you can seem to think about is sinking your teeth into him, making him yours, branding him so that the entire school knows not to touch what you’ve claimed as your own- even if there’s no romantic feelings involved, there’s still a harsh possession that nests itself within your relationship. A dark desire to own and be owned in the most filthy of ways, to be looked at like a meal and devoured like a feast by one and one only.

~~~

“Wanna get rid of my period for 9 months?” You groan from your place on the bed and Draco gapes at you.

“Y/N you are so foul!” He exclaims with a chuckle and you barely manage a laugh in your pained state. “Most girls would offer to take me out to dinner first, maybe undress me slowly-“

“When have I ever undressed you slowly?” You ask with a knowing eyebrow raise and Draco smirks back at you.

“Fair point.” He replies and you groan in pain again, “It’s okay, I’m coming don’t worry.” He drops his schoolbag on your bedroom floor and peels his shoes off of his feet before pulling out a brown paper bag from his schoolbag and crawling into bed beside you.

“I got you meds from Madame Pomfrey, drink this now.” He hands you a potion, “It should kick in within the hour.”

“That’s too long.” You whine and he deadpans you- making you shift under his gaze and drink the potion. “It tastes like utter shit.”

“You drink it every month, why aren’t you used to it?” He asks with a laugh and you shrug.

“I think I force myself to forget.”

“Weirdo.” He mumbles before digging back into the paper bag, “I brought you chocolate and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to keep you munching.” He pulls out the snacks and hands them to you, “Heat compress to alleviate the pain till the potion kicks in.” He puts the heat compress on your lower abdomen, “And I brought ’Sense & Sensibility’ from the library to keep you distracted.”

“Why ’Sense & Sensibility’?”

“Because I know that you’ve currently got your obsession with muggle authors and I remember you telling me that you loved this woman’s other book so I just grabbed it quickly.” He shrugs and you smile, already starting to feel a little better.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, we do this every month Y/N.” He chuckles.

He’s right, it is your routine. For as long as you can remember being friends with Draco, you can remember him looking after you whenever you have a really bad period- bringing you snacks, massaging you, singing to you, running you baths, anything that could possibly make you feel better. It’s consistent, one of the only things you both have to rely on, but you still can’t help the feeling of immense gratitude that washes over you every time. He always goes above and beyond for you, and you can’t help but feel grateful for him.

“Now,” He says as he drags your attention back to reality, “do you want me to read to you or do want cuddles?” He raises his eyebrows at you and you already know the answer.

“Cuddles.” He laughs at how quickly you respond and puts the book on the table beside your bed before hooking his arms around your waist and helping you both sink into the covers- your head nuzzled into chest as he lays flat on his back and rubs soothing circles into your own.

“Better?” He asks after a few minutes of him massaging your back and you nod eagerly- bringing your fingers up to trace lines across his collarbone in an effort to keep yourself occupied. He shivers at the feeling of your fingertips against his skin and you smile. “Keep doing that and I will have to take you up on that offer of taking away your period for nine months.”

~~~

“Nobody taught me how to love myself.”

“Standing there, you look at me Understanding everything”

The sudden eruption of voices in the hallway has you rapidly turning your neck toward the sound, just in time to catch a glimpse of Draco storming away from the rest of his exhausted quidditch teammates and into another hallway that leads to the dungeons. From what you’d seen he had looked furious and the rest of the team looks very solemn, so you say goodbye to Tracey Davis and quickly shuffle toward the team so that you can ask Blaise what happened.

Blaise catches your eye right before you reach him and opens his arms to hug you- draping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him so he can kiss your forehead. “Bad practice, he couldn’t do anything right today.” He says- already knowing what question was on your mind.

“Do you know what’s up with him?” You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and his shakes his head with a shrug.

“No clue. He was perfectly fine this morning, then by the time practice came he was fuming.”

“He’s angry?”

“He was angry. Now he’s just… sad?” Blaise sighs, “I really don’t know what’s going on, please check on him?”

You nod with a small smile and make to leave, “I’ll go see him right now.”

By the time you reach the common room Draco’s already in his room- something you figured out from the sound of his door slamming harshly- and you trek up to it nervously.

“Draco?” You ask softly as you open the door and find him hunched over his desk- still fully draped in quidditch gear.

He snaps his head up quickly and meets your eyes with a cold stare. “What?”

“Okay, rude.” You mumble as you step into the room and lean against the door.  “Are you okay?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes as he turns to face you from across the room, “Yeah, I’m bloody great.” He shrugs, “I’m the world’s worst seeker and my mother’s in the hospital, it’s truly a wonderful life.” He drawls sarcastically.

You push yourself off of the door at the mention of his mother and quickly stride toward him, “What do you mean your mother’s in the hospital?” You raise your eyebrows- concern erupting from your throat.

He doesn’t say anything but slowly turns behind him and picks up a letter from the desk to hand to you. He sighs and leans against the desk as you take it from him and begin to read the letter from his father.

a mild heart attack as she fell down the stairs.

Your eyes glaze over with anger as you scrunch the letter up and toss it to the ground. You’re no stranger to the abuse that goes on in the Malfoy household- having heard it yourself one night when you’d spend a weekend at their home- and you know that what Lucius really means is that he hit her so hard that she had to be hospitalised. You open your mouth to speak but Draco shakes his head and cuts you off.

“No. No Speaking.” You nod as he sighs and rubs his hands across his face in frustration. You take no offense at his words because, to be honest, nothing you could’ve said would make it better anyway. This has happened so often, too often really, that the two of you have evolved passed the need to converse about it.

“Fuck!” He exclaims suddenly and you flinch at the outburst- making him soften instantly as he turns to face you. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You nod in forgiveness and he reaches his arms out for you, and you do as he asks and sink into his arms- running your hands through his hair as he leans on the desk and you stand.

“I hate him.”

“I know.” You pull away from him and cup his face so he looks into your eyes. “Go take a shower, you stink.”

He laughs sadly and nods as he stands and starts walking to the bathroom. He stops midway and turns back to you, “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Where else would I go?” You raise your eyebrows at him with a smile and he smiles back before slipping into his prefect bathroom to shower.

While he’s showering you decide to get changed into something more comfortable- putting on one of his shirts over your underwear- and put out his favourite pyjama pants on the bed for him to wear once he’s gotten out of the shower. Then you climb into his bed and start reading the copy of ‘Sense & Sensibility’ that he got after reading with you and realising Jane Austen is actually pretty good, while you wait for him to get done.

“Nobody taught me how to love myself So how can I love somebody else?”

You’re so entranced by the book that you don’t even notice him come back into the room until he’s speaking to you from the foot of the bed. “Did you take these out for me?”

“Mhmm.” You respond without taking your eyes off the page in front of you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welco-“ You gasp as your eyes come off the page and meet his figure. He’s still dripping from the shower, a towel tied around his torso, and he’s got bruises all around his abdomen. “Draco!”

You get up and climb round the bed to get him, and he barely has any time to slide his bottoms on before he starts shuffling away from you.

“It’s nothing, I promi-“ He winces as soon as one of your hands makes contact with a bruise near his ribs.

“Draco.” You pull your hand back angrily and speak with a warning tone.

“Y/N it’s-“

“You promised me this would stop.” You state firmly and he gulps in fear. “We’ve been friends what, 6 years now? And in the six years that we’ve known each other I’ve done a countless amount of shit for you, no fucking questions asked. I ask, no, I beg you to do one thing and you can’t even do that?”

“It just happened.” He sighs tiredly and you scoff with a laugh.

“No, it didn’t just happen. You let it happen. Or am I wrong?”

“I-“

“You know what? I don’t even want to hear it.” You walk back to the bed with a shake of your head.

You’ve asked him a million times not to go sparring with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle before Quidditch practice because he always comes back black and blue- smothered in painful bruises on his entire abdomen. He only does it because he thinks that he deserves the pain, that in some weird way he’s getting what’s due to him for existing. It’s his own way of self-harming and it’s led him to Madame Pomfrey more times than you can possibly remember.

He promised you months ago that he’d stop for good, that he’d start taking better care of himself and stop looking for excuses to get hurt when he felt bad about himself.  But bad habits, it seems, tend to die hard when you’re self-loathing masochist who can’t trust his best friend enough to talk to her when he starts to feel like shit.

“I’m sorry, I just needed something to take my mind off of it.” He trails behind you and picks up his wand to cast a silencing charm- anticipating the screaming match that you’re both about to have.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me? I’m your fucking best friend, what the hell else am I here for?”

“I know, I’m sorry I just…”

“You just?”

“I’m always coming to you with my problems, burdening you with my thoughts and it’s just not fair.”

“What?” You snap at him in confusion.

“I come crying to when my parents are doing their usual shit, I come to you when I have a bad Quidditch game, I come to you when I get a bad grade- fuck- I even come to you when I’m too scared to get into a relationship-“

“I chose to help you with that, don’t fucking act like you forced me into this because it was mutually beneficial.”

“That’s not the bloody point Y/N!” He yells in exasperation.

“Then what is the fucking point Draco?” You yell back.

He sighs, clenches his fists and closes his eyes. “The point is, I’m more bad than good for you, I’m a burden.”

You gasp at his words and sit on the edge of the bed as you look up at him in astonishment. That’s what he said to you the first time that you talked about his home life, ‘I think that they fight because of me, I ruined their lives. I’m a burden.’

“You’re not a burden.”

“You say that now. Until the day when you want more comes and I can’t give it to you.” He sits on the edge of the bed beside you, “One day this won’t be enough- you’ll want someone who can love you the way that you want to be loved- and I won’t be strong enough to do that. And then I’ll lose the only good thing I have in my life.”

“I’ll never leave you- I don’t think I could even if I tried.” You laugh awkwardly and pull him into your chest for a hug. “I don’t want more Draco, I don’t think I ever will. It sounds hard to believe but being best friends who occasionally have mind-boggling sex is quite enough for me, it makes me happy.”

“Promise me that you’ll tell me if you want more.” He mumbles into your chest.

“I promise bug.” You whisper as you rub his back soothingly- letting him relax into your embrace.

After a few seconds of silence he speaks again, “They’re going to kill each other.” He whispers- so quiet that you think maybe you imagined it-   before a soft sob escapes his lips.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whisper back and continue soothing him by running your fingers along his bare back- stopping every few seconds to massage his ribs a bit- in an effort to help him calm down.

You don’t tell him that they won’t, because in all honesty you don’t know if they won’t, but you hold him tight for as long as he needs and promise him that you’ll be there for him. And that’s enough for the both of you- knowing that you’ll always be there for each other.

You sit like that for a while as he calms down and his breathing evens out- his head in your chest as one of your hands holds his and the other digs into his skin softly. It’s when he stops rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand, and instead starts rubbing it up and down your thigh, that you realise he’s finally breathing normally again. “Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hum in response as he pulls his head out of your chest and brings his lips up to your neck.

“Can we have some of that mind-boggling sex you talked about?” He asks against your collarbone and you laugh at his sudden change in attitude.

“I take it someone’s feeling better?” You ask as you let him take control of the situation and push you onto your back against the mattress.

“No.” He says, voice muffled as his lips graze against the skin on your neck, as his hands travel along your sides delicately. “But I need to feel you.”

“Dra-“ You start to protest- wanting to tell him that he can’t fuck his sadness away- but he cuts you off with a chaste kiss to your lips as his hands find their way beneath the t-shirt that you’re wearing and come up to unhook your bra.

“Please?” He asks desperately when he finally pulls away from your lips, his voice raw and raspy, “Let me take care of you princess.”

You’re still hesitant to agree, worried that he’s using this as a coping mechanism and scared that it’ll worsen the pain he’s feeling in his abdomen, but his lips find that soft spot behind your ear and you melt into his grasp like ice-cream on a thirty-degree day. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Okay.” Is all you say before he’s making good on his promise and making you feel so good that it’s as if there’s lava crawling beneath your bones.

His lips and hands are everywhere you need them, not hesitating to give you what you want as they usually do, not acting at a torturously slow pace. Tonight there’s no teasing, no tug-of-war between you both to see who cracks first, there’s just immense passion and trust- all the unsaid words left floating in the air are now dancing between your lips as they connect over and over again.

In this moment he’s Picasso and all he can think about is painting over you with his lips, his hands, his cock as it digs against your inviting walls, with every colour of the rainbow until the world itself is drained of all vibrancy because he’s given it all to you.

You meant what you said before, sex with Draco is always mind-boggling and lip-bitingly pleasurable, but this is different. It makes you finally understand what people mean when they say that they can see God at the height of their climax- that they feel as though their bodies are overheating and they’re going to combust at any moment.

He has never been this soft before, usually sex with him is fast, rough, hard, and all about building up the tallest tower of arousal so you can both knock it down with earth-shattering orgasms. But this is so different. This is soft, sensual, almost slow in a way- it says more than any words you two could possibly try to use to explain how much you value each other. You’re not in love, that’s for sure, but this feeling, this painfully exquisite moment, is the closest thing you two will ever get to uttering the words, “I love you”, to each other.

Who needs love when the two of you have each other to make you feel like you’re both burning from the inside out?

~~~

Now, as you sit next to him in Potions and watch intently as he chops up the next set of ingredients, you think that perhaps it’s you who’s going to set on fire.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Hm?” You furrow your eyebrows at him as you zone back in, “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“You seem to be doing a lot of that lately, are you okay?” He asks genuinely as he stops working on the potion to focus a soft gaze on you.

You gulp and nod, giving him a fake smile, “Yes, of course, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, seriously.” You bring your hand up to his arm as reassurance and smile again- trying to ignore how taut his muscles feel beneath your fingers, even with all the fabric between them- “What were you saying?”

“Oh!” He smiles brightly, “I was asking if you want to go down to the Black Lake next period? Since we’re both free?”

“And do what?” You narrow your eyes at him but grin still.

“I don’t know- drown ourselves, skinny dip, have a picnic- whatever your heart desires.”

“If you’re just looking for an excuse to see me naked then all you have to do is ask.” You smirk.

“I wouldn’t need to take you all the way there if I wanted to see you naked.” He grins widely and you roll your eyes, “I’ve just been wanting to go down there for a while and I thought I might as well bring you along.”

“Because you love my company?”

“Because you probably have nothing better do and no one else to hang out with.”

“We both know half the boys in this grade would drop everything for ten minutes with me, I could easily find someone to hang out with.” You reply very brazenly and he rolls his eyes at you. It’s true, more than half of the boys in the grade have tried to ask you out at least once, Potter being the most insistent, and if push came to shove you could easily find someone else to spend your free period with.

Not that you want to, free periods with Draco have actually become one of your favourite pastimes. Usually spent working on extra school work, or chatting, or trashing on Harry Potter- which happens considerably often since you both don’t like him.

“Too bad for them because you’re coming with me.”

“Because?” You raise your eyebrows at him- waiting for him to admit what you want to hear- and he mumbles a reply that you don’t quite catch- “Excuse me?”

“Because I love your company…”

“I know.” You smile with a giggle.

“Sweetheart, you are Changing my mind”

“There ain’t no excuses I swear that I’m doing my best”

“Do you still think love is fake?” You ask as you both lie in the grass and stare up at the sky- enjoying one of the only sunny days you’ll be getting this June.

“Hm?” Draco hums in questioning and you turn on your side to face him- propping your head up on your palm as you lean on your elbow.

“Love. Do you still think it’s a hoax?”

He sighs and blinks a bit before taking a gulp and averting his eyes from the sky to meet your own. “I don’t know.”

“I think in the time that we’ve been pretending to date, I’ve felt a lot of new emotions that I’d never felt before. I can’t tell you if it’s love or not because well, I don’t know what that’s supposed to look like or feel like, but I do know that I like it. It’s different to anything I’ve ever felt before because it’s comfortable and warm- it’s home in a way. It’s the kind of feeling home is meant to give me, not the dread and fear I feel when I get off the Hogwarts Express and find my parents waiting for me on the platform. Not the emptiness I feel when I have to sit through dinners with them and we have to pretend that we’re a happy family. Not the sadness I feel when I’m locked up in my room and I can hear them screaming at each other at the top of their lungs downstairs. It doesn’t feel like what I feel when I think of the Malfoy Manor, the only way I can describe what it feels like is by saying that it feels like what I feel when I think of you, or when I’m with you.”

“And what do you feel when you think of me?” You ask.

“I feel safe and happy and like there’s fire coursing through my veins - almost like I’m burning from the inside out. I don’t know if that’s what love is supposed to feel like- I’ve got no one to ask- but I know that I like feeling that way.” He closes his eyes and takes a breath, “So, to answer your question, I don’t know if I still think love is fake. All I know is that I don’t feel that hopelessness that usually consumes me, when I’m with you.”

You look at him in awe- utterly speechless and completely amazed by the words he’s just spoken to you. You can’t ask him for anything more than that, he’s clearly trying his best to be open to love and honest with you, and you don’t really want more anyway- it’s enough knowing that the two of you make each other happy. What you two have is enough. “You are fucking ethereal.” You breathe out as you sink back to the ground and go back to looking at the sun.

“So are you.” Draco says back as he picks up your hand and intertwines your fingers together. He doesn’t think that love is a hoax, he thinks that maybe he’s falling in love with you, but he’s not ready to admit that just yet- not when the fear of the only solid good thing in his life disappearing still haunts him with every waking moment. Not when you’re not showing any signs of romantic attraction toward him, because he can’t afford to be another dotted line in your book of conquests just because he got soft and caught feelings for you.

He’s not sure of himself yet, how can he be when no one ever taught him how to trust in his ability to be lovable? How can he be when even his own mother and father give him leftover scraps of affection veiled as the unconditional love of parents. Letting himself fall in love with you is a big risk to take when his own insecurities swarm his thoughts day and night, when his own fear of commitment swallows him up whole at every interval in which he thinks he’s ready to be vulnerable. No, he’s not ready to fall in love with you yet. But he’s trying to get there.

<~>

So, this ending is not what I originally envisioned, that one was a lot more compact and fluffy than this one is but I much prefer this one. When I first started writing this fic I actually started with the ending and worked my way backwards but when I finally got to the beginning I realized that the ending just didn’t fit anymore and I had to end it here.

I’m much happier with this ending because it’s undefined and open to interpretation. In a way Y/N is aromantic but in a way she’s also not- I couldn’t decide so I left it in a way that the reader can decide.

I’m planning on using the original ending in something different, which I will post here once it’s done, but yeah, this is the fic.

Anyway, love you all,

jean <3

[imerdwarf]

I've Given All I Can

Summary: You and Bucky feel as though you're pulling apart from each other, your worse fears come true one night at a party but is it too late?

Warnings: Low self esteem, angst, language, Bucky is an idiot, tears, heartbreak, implied smut (but nothing explicit) at the end 💜

Author's Notes: Happy evening 😍 this is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club's Drunk Drabbles 💜

Bucky has that unreadable look in his eyes again as he watches you change clothes. Your jeans feel too tight around your waist and your shirts pull across your stomach, accentuating the bulge from your food baby from all the binge eating junk you've eaten the past few weeks to help you feel better.

In truth, eating like that made you feel worse about yourself. You thought of yourself as the worst human alive because you couldn't stop it, you couldn't stop anything from going wrong with your body and your mind was in overdrive.

Your self esteem issues were eating away at you, you felt helpless as if you were screaming into a void alone and nobody was around to help you. Your mind would play the cruelest tricks. For example, how your mind would pick up on the facial expressions your boyfriend Bucky would give other women in the compound. He looks at them how he used to look at you when you first started dating, and it's been a while since you have seen that look from him.

For Bucky it was completely the opposite though, he's felt this distance between the two of you for a while and figured it was because you weren't interested in him anymore. He knows of the stress you've been under, how your insecurities are eating away at your thoughts and he longs for the day he sees your beautiful smile again.

He just knows it won't happen anytime soon and quite frankly, he doesn't even know what he should do anymore. Trying to talk to you was impossible because you would only grunt in response or not pay any attention to what he was asking or you would just change subjects which has been the case lately.

He doesn't know what do to, he wishes you would just tell him what he needs to do to make you love him again. He stares blankly at you as you change into jeans and a sweater, making no attempt to look away when you catch his stare and that look on his face.

Bucky stands and leaves you alone in the room, the door closes behind him and it's then the waterworks come to life. Tears roll freely down your cheeks as you crumble to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, you rock back and forth feeling your heart break in your chest. You would give anything to have Bucky wrap his arms around you right now, it just seems he feels disgusted being near you and touching you.

While you were crying in your shared room, Bucky made his way to the kitchen where he saw Sam sitting on the stool sipping a coffee and scrolling through some files on the glass tablet.

"Rough mission?" Bucky asks, taking a seat opposite him and playing with the strings on his sweatpants.

"You could say that," Sam coughs into his bent elbow and looks over at Barnes to notice that worrying look in his eyes, "what's wrong?" He adds with a frown.

"Nothin'" Bucky sighs and runs a hand over his face. He looks tired and almost defeated.

"Come on man, I'm good for some things ya know!" Sam chuckles to encourage the man.

"It's just me and Y/N, things aren't... so good lately, feel like we're drifting apart." Bucky sniffles, saying it out loud was almost reality.

"Well, as your friend, I would advise you to sit down and talk about things, tell each other what's on your mind and hug it out even." Sam has a point but he doesn't understand that Bucky has tried to talk to you about this in the past and got nowhere. Now you were barely speaking.

"It's not that simple Sam," Bucky sighs and shakes his head.

Now it's Sam's turn to sigh, "nothing ever is simple. Just act like an adult and talk like adults, it's gonna be alright, man! Anyway, I got to go. I have a support group to motivate, let me know how things go." Sam grabs his backpack from the stool next to him and leaves quickly, leaving Bucky to think over his irrational plan that he thinks might work.

1 week later

Tonight is the night of one of Stark's extravagant parties and everyone is invited. It's also the night Bucky has a plan that he wants to execute to hopefully bring the two of you back together again.

He stands in front of the floor length mirror and adjusts his bowtie for the umpteenth time. His black suit is tailored to fit him perfectly and he knows how much you love him in black.

Your own dress was a gift from Natasha. It showed a lot of cleavage and thigh, normally, a dress like this was not something you would have chosen.

And by the time you got downstairs to the party, the room was already crowded ranging from the less fortunate to the billionaires. You had to shimmy past a couple of people to reach the bar, you were hoping your dress might spark some interest from Bucky tonight but he's nowhere to be seen.

You take a seat on the barstool and order a martini, the bartender hands you the drink and you thank him with a smile, spinning on your seat to sip your drink and scan the room. A boisterous laugh grabs your attention and your eyes follow the offensive sound. Your eyes narrow in on the gorgeous blonde standing in the corner, but it's the man she's with that makes your heart drop into your stomach.

It's Bucky. And her hands are holding onto his biceps as he presumably tells her one of his jokes. He's smiling, he's laughing and it's the happiest you have seen him for a while. Was he miserable because of you? Were you holding him back from happiness? The scene unfolding was answering all of your questions and more when Bucky takes her hand in his and pulls her to the dance floor to dance alongside the other 'couples'. They look so happy and so lost in each others eyes that your eyes well up and the room feels like it's closing in and suffocating you.

You can't breath, you need air and fast. You slam your glass down on the bar and stand up, taking off your heels so you can get out of here even quicker. You don't excuse yourself as you barge past the happy smiling attendees.

Wanda sees everything unfold from where she was stood. She saw the way Barnes had approached the blonde woman and started flirting with her as soon as you arrived at the party. She also sees he's none the wiser of the fact you've already left the scene upset and heartbroken.

Wanda approaches the blind idiot and pulls him away from the woman he's with. "what the -"

"I could ask you the same question Barnes! What the hell do you think you're playing at? You're cheating on Y/N now? My best friend?" Wanda is seething, and the urge to punch the smirk of his face is harder to resist.

"Did it work?" He asks with a smug grin looking around the party.

"Oh yeah, if your plan was to break her heart and make her cry, it worked perfectly!"

Bucky frowns and his lip quivers slightly, "nononono! That wasn't the plan! Fuck, where did she go?"

"Who knows." Wanda shrugs, she wouldn't tell him even if she did.

Bucky rushes past her and starts to look in every room until he finds you slouched against the wall of one of the vacant offices down the hall.

"Baby!" Bucky rushes in and kneels next to you, his big arms immediately pull you into his chest. You try to pull away but his grip is too strong and you end up sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. "I'm so sorry baby."

You pull your face away to breathe, your palms flat against his chest, "you're leaving me," you croak, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. The room around you feels like it's spinning, this feels like a really bad dream.

Bucky staggers for a moment, digging his fingertips further into your flesh. "Absolutely not baby! No way! I'm so sorry you gotta believe me doll, I was just trying to make you jealous because I thought you weren't interested in me anymore and-"

"I thought you weren't interested in me!" You argue, fighting back the fresh tears threatening to fall, "you haven't touched me in so long I didn't know what to think."

"Then it's my fault doll, I read the whole situation wrong and I should have talked to you like an adult, please let me make it up to you and I promise I'll show you just how much I love you and want to touch you." His nose nudges against yours and his face dips slightly to capture your lips. His lips are soft and you quietly moan into his mouth as he spins you both around and presses you up against the door ready to make good on his promise.

Taglist: @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @pinkdiamond1016 @whatrambles @bestofbucky @ladyeliot

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s parent teacher conference

Warnings: IronStrange, Supremefamily, bullied Peter, dick head teachers, anxious Peter and homophobia.

-Peter POV-

"Hey Bambi, why didn't you tell us about your parent-teacher conference tomorrow night?" Pops asked sitting next to me on the living room couch.

"I didn't think you would've wanted to go? Dads not the one for school or teachers and you're -well- you." I explained tentatively.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Just so you know, we'll be there for around 5 so just after your decathlon meeting. It'll just be me and your dad so no need to be embarrassed." Pops told me.

"Thanks. This'll be the first parent-teacher conference I would've ever been to." I told him.

"Same kid. It's a first time experience for us all." Pops smiled at me.

"Not many times that happens." I commented resting my head on his shoulder.

"No it's not Bambi, no it's not." He smiled putting his head on mine.

-Next day at 5 o'clock-

"Hey Penis, what're you still doing here? This is a thing for kids with parents." Flash taunted walked passed me in the gymnasium as I waited for my dads.

"Shut up Flash, you know nothing about my family." I told him.

"You better watch your tone Parker or you'll have another black eye." Flash threatened getting really close to me.

"If you would be so kind as to step away from my kid, it would he greatly appreciated." Pops' voice spoke from next to me. They must've just arrived.

"Oh my God! It's Stephen Strange! And Tony Stark!" Flash all but yelled making the whole room fall silent.

"It's Stephen Stark actually. I didn't spend thousands on a wedding for people to not recognise my changed last name." Pops corrected.

"I'm so sorry. I'm such a fan of both of your works." Flash blabbered composing himself.

"Eugene! We've been looking everywhere for you!" A man, who I presume is Flash's father, scolded walking up to us with a woman trailing behind.

"Sorry father but look who I found. The Starks." Flash excitedly announced.

At this point I slowly slipped away from him and walked up to my Dad who gladly greeted me with a hug. I could feel the warmth of the arc reactor on my chest and it gave a strange comfort. After a few moments we let go but I didn't move very far, being so close to Flash made me really anxious.

"Underoos you okay?" Dad asked me worriedly trying to look into my eyes.

"Yeah I'm fine, just tired. I was up late finishing a piece of homework last night." I lied hoping Pops wouldn't say anything as I fell asleep on him last night.

"Wow Mister Stark. I must say I'm a big fan of your work. If you haven't noticed I try to style myself off of you." Flash's father said showing off his black tailored suit and aviator sunglasses and reached out for a handshake.

"I'm flattered but I don't do handshakes. I'm not the biggest fan of touching." Dad told him trying to give a convincing smile.

"Then why've you got an arm around Pen-Peter?" Flash asked making both my Dads give him the 'Bitch WTF' look. I hate that look. Dad was about to say something but I decided to cut in.

"So, why don't we do what you came here to do and speak to my teachers? Sounds great, let's go." I spoke grabbing Pops' hand and dragging him and Dad to one of my teachers.

"Who was he?" Dad asked in a demanding tone.

"Nobody important. Look Mr. Harrington's free. Let's go and talk to him." I rushed and pulled my dads towards Mr. Harrington's table.

"Ah, Peter and Mr. and Mr. Stark. Lovely to meet you, I love all you've done for the world." Mr Harrington spoke as we took our seats.

"Thank you Mr. Harrington." Pops said.

"No problem. So, I teach Peter Physics and I've got no problems. The only thing I would say is that he is often on his phone during lesson and doesn't listen that much. However with that being said, he's never got below an A+ on his tests. You should be proud of him." Mr. Harrington smiled.

"We are. Is that all?" Dad said ruffling my hair slightly.

"That's all thanks." Mr. Harrington announced and shook Pops' hand before we walked away.

"That was a really good report but who're you texting during class? It better not be one of the others or your dad." Pops asked and gave Dad a pointed look.

"No it's this guy I met online. His names Harley Keener and he seems really nice." I explained as I lead them to my history teacher.

"Harley Keener?" Dad asked shocked.

"Yeah. Why? Do you know him?" I questioned.

"Sorta. I'll explain when we get home." Dad dismisses before turning around to face my history teacher Mrs. Keens.

"Wow, this is a shock. It's not everyday the Starks turn up to a parent-teacher conference. How are you both?" She rushed out slightly flustered.

"We're doing fine thank you. How is Peter in this subject?" Pops asked, straight to the point as always.

"Peter is amazing, always hands his homework in on time, always listens in lesson and has never received less than an A on a test. You should be proud of him." She informed smiling at me.

"Wow, our little goody-two-shoes." Dad teased ruffling my hair slightly.

"One thing that you may or may not be aware of is a boy called Eugene Thomson. He seems to be bullying Peter for whatever reason, I've caught him a few times throwing paper balls at Peter or sliding him malicious notes. I'm not sure if it's friendly or not but I felt you should know. Thank you." Mrs. Keens informed, may the ground swallow me up now.

"We will also discuss this later on." Pops told me sternly, oh no.

We left Mrs. Keens with a slight wave and headed back to the main area to find another teacher. My eyes landed on my English teacher who didn't seem very happy, this is not going to end well.

"Oh look, it's your English teacher." Dad commented and pointed to Mr. Malory. Fuuuuuuuuck.

"How do you know my English teacher?" I asked worriedly.

"Research department, making sure my son has the best education he can. Let's go to him now while he's free." Dad brushed off and started to walk towards him. God save me.

My English teacher hates me for no reason, always turns a blind eye to Flash, always nitpicks my assignments and finds any reason to not give me a good grade. He's also quite homophobic and has expressed on many occasions his hatred for my Dads and anything to do with them. He even leads a group called the 'Freedom from Starks'. This is so not ending well.

"Peter, didn't expect to see you here." Mr. Malory commented not looking up from his clip board.

"Well, this is a parent-teacher conference and I, as his parent, would like to speak to my sons teacher about his school work. If you'd be so kind." Dad said, his words oozing sarcasm and sass. He really did his research.

Mr. Malory picked his head up and stared Dad dead in the face. The distaste clearly shown on both faces as the three of us took our seats, Pops took Dad's hand, probably as a way to calm him down. This is worse than I thought.

"Well, if I'm being honest, Peter is the worse student I've ever taught. He's disruptive in lessons, throws paper at a wonderful student called Flash Thompson, slides Flash malicious notes and seems to find any excuse to blame Flash. His work is simply upgradable and I couldn't thing on a bigger lost cause than your son. Any questions?" Mr. Malory spoke and Dads face got redder and redder with anger.

"Really, then why did the last teacher we speak to say it was the other way around, that 'Flash' was the one throwing paper and passing notes?" Dad questioned leaning forward in his seat.

"Look, I don't know what happens in other lessons and quite frankly, I don't care. All I know is Peter is a major distraction and it's bordering bulling with Flash." Mr. Malory told us.

"What about his work is so upgradable? Is it his handwriting or the content of what he's writing?" Pops asked placing his other hand on top of Dads. This is getting serious.

"The content. The ludicrous stories of the Norse Gods and his 'adventures' with them are beyond reason. His stories are beyond the realm of possibility and are just ludicrous." Mr. Malory told them.

"His stories about the Norse Gods, does this involve Thor putting his hammer in inconvient places or Loki and black widow being kind and caring to others?" Das asked.

"Yes." Was Mr. Malory's short response.

"Well, it is within the realm of possibility as it happens. Every single day at the compound or sanctum." Pops spit out trying to keep calm.

"Oh well, maybe he should learn to be more creative with his stories." Mr. Malory spoke silently challenging Pops.

"Thanks sir." I hastily said before dragging both my dads out of their seats and walking off.

"No Pete, I would like to hear more about how much of a bad student you are." Dad argued challenging Mr Mallory.

"And I will be glad to provide. Mr Park-"

"Stark." Dad deadpans.

"Mr Stark is highly disruptive not only to Mr Thomson but is also always on his phone, sleeping in class or just straight up not listening. Honestly, his behaviour is a reflection as to why you people shouldn't be allowed to have kids, you simply don't know how to raise them." Mr Mallory continued to explain. Dad went red.

"What do you mean by you people?" Pops asked scarily calm as be placed a hand on Dad's knee to soothe him slightly.

"Gays. You shouldn't be allowed children because there's not a mother to properly raise them, I never had these issues when Peter lived with May. I honestly think it would be in his best interest to place him back in her care."

Oh my god. He knows May is dead. He knows that I can't be 'placed back in her care' and It was the same when I did live with her, nothing changed.

We were all stunned into silence, including some of the surrounding parents and teachers who were stunned. Well, we were silent until Dad blew up at him.

"How dare you," he began, "I take as good care of my son as any other parent here does, I give him as much as I can and do everything I can to be a good parent to him. If he's sleeping in your classes or being distracted then maybe you should make your lessons more interesting and not be blind sighted by your homophobic, bigoted and downright dickish beliefs. Your head may be crammed so far up your ass you can smell your lungs but maybe once join us in the real world and see that just because people are different doesn't mean they're not as capable. I will be putting in a formal complaint and if I were you, I'd start looking for new places of employment seeing as I am one of the biggest donators to this school. Come on Pete, we're going home."

Dad then grabbed Pops' hand and my arm before storming out of the building towards the car. You could see the steam coming out of his ears as Pops tried in a desperate attempt to calm him down.

I think I can safely say that this night was a disaster.

[bigskydreaming]

Hello, hello, tis I, your friendly neighborhood ‘dude who is obsessed with people making jokes and insults out of Dick’s name’ back with another episode of Why No But Seriously Why!

In today’s episode, we’re going to focus on the fanon of the swear jar. That thing ordained by Alfred that makes many an appearance in fics and headcanons....including ones that also show Jason and/or others calling Dick a Dickhead and other things all willy nilly and suchlike and forthwith.

How does this track, asketh I? Does Alfred provide exemption clauses for making fun of your brother, to the others? Does Alfred not consider making crude insults out of the name Dick to be a swear? Does Alfred, a born Brit, hailing from the land of the “We’ve Been Calling Richards ‘Dicks’ For Longer Than The Rest Of You Have Been Calling Them Rich’s,” not consider the fascination with making penis jokes out of the name of a child he’s helped raised from the age of EIGHT to be uncultured, crass and frankly unacceptable in any house he resides in?

I’m just saying, does it really make sense, and is the risk of pulling readers out of your story if they’re NOT amused by the jokes made of his name really worth whatever it is you feel is added to a story BY making the same old jokes about Dick’s name?

As I’ve said many times before....Dick Grayson? Fictional character. Has no feelings that actually need protecting....OUTSIDE of fiction. Making jokes about his name from beyond the fourth wall, just people commenting on a fictional character’s name? Go wild, go crazy, have a freaking Bacchanalia. Truly does not matter, if you ask me.

But IN universe? IN fiction? Totally different story, because look what those jokes require or make assumptions out of:

1) That Dick truly has no protective or defensive feelings whatsoever about his childhood nickname, and genuinely feels nothing about people habitually taking his choice to keep it as an invitation to insult or mock him.

1b) That Dick doesn’t in any way ever perceive peoples’ insistence on associating his name MORE with the insults and penis jokes than they do with it just being a name, to in any way be a slight against his beloved parents, of the “well they should have known better than to call him that” variety.

1c) That Dick has no negative feelings whatsoever about the fact that even his close friends and family regard his name as being no more worthy of respect or being ‘offlimits’ than the average Gothammite or public citizen might regard it, despite the fact that his close friends and family are perfectly aware of the public’s history of looking down on Dick for his origins and thus you’d think would WANT to appear different than them in Dick’s eyes.

1d) That Dick has never at any point expressed anger, frustration or bitterness that he can’t even have his name respected without even loved ones superimposing their own associations on top of it, no matter what it means to HIM.

2) That Alfred truly has no opinions whatsoever of the other charges in his care disrespecting Dick’s name and its origins stemming from his first parents.

2b) That Alfred has never expressed this opinion to any of them or made his displeasure about such jokes known.

2c) That Alfred doesn’t find it disappointing that the rest of the family and associated friends and allies seem disinclined to separate themselves from the general public’s opinions of Dick’s name by regarding it with a little more respect as at least a sign that they regard Dick himself with a little more respect than the general public.

3) That Jason or none of Dick’s other friends or family have never taken the initiative to wonder for themselves how Dick might actually feel about the frequent jokes or insults, and if shockingly, he might not actually be fond of them.

3b) That Jason or Dick’s other friends or family have chosen not to care or respect the opinions of Dick and/or Alfred or anyone else who states or suggests that these jokes or insults aren’t welcome.

4) That none of Dick’s other friends, be they Titans, or Uncle Clark, or siblings like Cass or Damian or frankly anyone, ever speak up in defense of Dick’s name and suggest that there’s a significant lack of respect around it and thus around him, that they personally take a very dim view of. (Even when Jason’s best friends include Dick’s former fianceé and own longtime BFF).

5) That nobody has ever bothered to think that only EVER being addressed by some form of insult by even his own siblings might possibly have a slightly demoralizing effect on someone’s self-esteem over time.

5b) That nobody has ever bothered to think that making sexual jokes about his name and thus innately sexualizing Dick from even his earliest days in Gotham, when coupled with the hyper-sexualized stereotypes people often apply to Romani individuals and further coupled with the suggestive rumors surrounding Bruce’s reasons for taking in a young boy, might possibly have contributed over time to Dick having an extremely skewed view of himself as an innately sexualized being no matter what he actually did in terms of sexual behavior.

I mean.....there’s more. If I felt like it.

But the point is......there’s a LOT of implicit assumptions that creep in alongside the seemingly harmless jokes and insults surrounding Dick’s name, the second you start to really focus in on how it might appear from his POV....IF you include even just the possibility that he DOESN’T like it.

EDIT: Also, lots of people have pointed out that its just sibling culture to make fun of a sibling in ways that you wouldn’t be okay with someone outside the family making the same jokes. And this is absolutely true! BUT. My issue here and why I don’t think the Dickhead jokes fall under this umbrella, is because I can say in my experience being from a blended family, and from what I’ve discussed in the past with other kids from blended families....there are ‘rules’ about this sort of thing, when you have adopted siblings, and the one near-universal truth that I’ve always found is that anything that stems from an adopted sibling’s first family, the one you do NOT share with them, is absolutely off limits. You mock them for something that originated outside your family, you’re the asshole, because at that point, you’re literally no different from outsiders to your current family making fun of that sibling. That ‘joke’ is not YOURS to make or share in, if you do not have the history with the thing you’re basing the joke on, that your sibling has with it. Shared history is the entire basis of siblings being able to mock each other while still citing solidarity against outsiders, and in adopted families, there absolutely are elements of each others’ lives that YOU are the outsider to, and it absolutely falls on you to respect that just as you’d want your sibling to respect the same of you in turn. If Jason absolutely would not be okay with Dick or anyone else making jokes about Catherine or his life with her, he should not be okay with making jokes about Dick’s name, circus origins, or other aspects of his life that stem from or call back to his time with his first family. The same holds true of all the others as well.

The other aspect of this name-calling not falling under the excuse-umbrella of just being typical sibling culture is its entirely one-sided. Show me the tendency where Dick responds to these everpresent jokes or insults by even light-heartedly calling Jason and the others insults like Hey Asshole, or Dumbass or anything like that. When things are entirely one-way, the impression given is not that of a camaraderie of back-and-forth. It becomes just one person or multiple people punching down in a way they feel confident from experience the other person will NOT respond in kind, which gives them an outlet for venting frustration, resentment or aggravation which risks them nothing, because they KNOW Dick won’t retaliate, and at that point that exchange becomes something very different from a general sibling back-and-forth....because there’s no ‘back.’ What you end up with at that point is literally just hostility, no matter if more mild than other cases, and a situation where one sibling is simply taking ADVANTAGE of the opportunity afforded by another sibling’s good nature and refusal to engage in hurt feelings even while you feel free to cause those feelings in them. And that’s just not a good look. Its just not. And even if you find those exchanges humorous yourself as a writer or a reader, you might want to keep in mind that to plenty of other readers, its making even the characters you like and INTEND to be liked, just....come across as kinda not cool assholes instead.

END OF EDIT.

And here’s the other point:

Its not really about his name, and never has been.

His name is simply emblematic of how EASY it is for people to fall into the trap of just....choosing to overlook Dick’s POV entirely, the second its pitted against other characters and what they might gain from their POV....even if that ‘gain’ is as simple and basic as the slight moment of humor Jason gets from making a joke or mocking insult out of Dick’s name.

Here, let me present this another way:

Every single person alive has SOMETHING they get defensive or protective about. SOMETHING that they’re like no, this is offlimits to people, this is not for their consumption, their entertainment, its not for THEM to take and twist into something other than what it is for ME, because its MINE. This is basic human nature. EVERYONE has this feeling about SOMETHING that’s particular to them.

And with Dick, most of the things that we’re generally given to view him being protective or defensive about are either almost more about other people than him - such as being protective of his family members - or else, they’re things that he’s not ALLOWED to be purely defensive or say, territorial about.

Like for instance, the name Robin.

Think about how Robin is pretty much one of the ONLY things Dick is largely deemed to be defensive or proprietary about.....BUT how that’s also largely used NOT to have him wholly in the right for feeling that way.....but to put him in conflict with the other Robins, given that they also have strong feelings about the name regardless of its origins, and its not solely Dick’s anymore.

Now here’s my question:

If for example, you go with the take that Robin was Dick’s mother’s name for him, and that’s why Dick is so protective and defensive of that name.....why would he be any LESS protective or defensive about his mother AND father’s OTHER name for him....given that the only possible reason for him TO stick with the name Dick all throughout adulthood, is that its the form of his name they referred to him by, and thus, clearly, it DOES carry emotional significance for him?

See what I’m saying?

Why is it, that the only time so many people see Dick laying a claim to something, being defensive or protective of something that’s HIS, standing up for HIMSELF.....is when the waters are murky, when its not a clear cut case of him being wholly in the right, when it pits Dick against someone else and says both are at least somewhat valid?

Why is it so RARE to see people imagine Dick putting his foot down in defense of himself, in defense of something that’s HIS.....where its 100% crystal clear that he has every right and reason in the world to feel this way, where there’s no doubt whatsoever that he’s on the correct side of thinking “this is mine and I get to say this”?

Even about something as simple and basic as his own name?

And why is it the only time we seem to see people sticking up for Dick or weighing in on his behalf, its in the case of extreme actions like him having been raped or abused? Why are there hardly any stories of people looking at alleged family and friends bitching about Dick or heaping insults on him or his capabilities and saying hey, he’s been doing this while most of us were sitting in middle school detention, you could show him some respect? Why do none of the people who value and respect Dick so highly ever seem to weigh in like THAT in stories?

My challenge, should you choose to accept it, is just to look at the above list of possible reasons why Dick might not be thrilled about how people use his name....and just IMAGINE what it would look like, if Dick just said to another character....”Hey. Could you cut that out. I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that.” Even just “I really don’t like that.”

How does a scene like that go? One where Dick is wholly and completely justified in putting his foot down, in feeling that someone is overstepping or paying him an insult or a disservice?

We hear all the time in fandom about how in the name of ‘humanizing’ Dick and ‘making him more relatable’ some people focus overly much on emphasizing his flaws, his alleged temper, his secretiveness, etc.

I’d like to argue that flaws are not actually the only staple of humanity. Risking making a character more dislikable is not actually the only way to make them feel more human or relatable. THIS is another way to do that. Make them defensive, proprietary, territorial, even prickly.....but with REASON. With CAUSE. With JUSTIFICATION. Because people are ALLOWED to be, when people are being a - all irony intended - total dick to them.

And there is a long, LONG history in fanfics, of people being exactly that to Dick, and him just....smiling.

EXCEPT for when his choice NOT to smile, and to actually take offense and push back......pits him against another character but with the other character usually being granted just as much right and reason to not give way.

So? I’m saying you have right here a perfect example of how to flip the script on that. To make it abundantly clear that Dick has just as much right to put his foot down with even people who love and care about him and say hey, you’re doing something I don’t like, that in fact even hurts me, and I want you to stop.

Why not use it? Why does there always seem to need to be an ARGUMENT about whether or not Dick is in the right to feel wronged in some way.....when its so abundantly clear that he’s given no shortage of reasons for that in practically every other fic?

And consider.....if you’ve never previously entertained the idea that Dick might take offense to how people treat his name, or feel defensive about it......what else might you be overlooking that he could feel that way about, and is there any reason why you think you tend not to view Dick as being defensive of HIMSELF and things that are uniquely his?

*Shrugs* Just food for thought, mayhaps.

[mrsgiovanna]

The confession (Don Giorno x Fem! Reader

A cute request from a nonnie mouse, I hope this is what you were looking for my sweet 🥰💭💜🐞

No warnings, just fluff

Word count: 1506

“Buongiorno, Gio, I have the documents you requested yesterday,” you greeted the young mafia Don with a sunny smile as you handed the envelope to him.

“Buongiorno (y/n), thank you so much for getting these to me as quickly as you did, I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for just springing this on you as well,” Giorno apologized, returning your smile with one of his own.

Ever since Giorno had taken over Passione, you had been his support structure, whether it was help with the copious amounts of documentation he had to go through or intricate missions that he trusted nobody other than you with, you were always ready to serve your Don. Similarly, you could always rely on Giorno for anything. Everything you both did was aimed at protecting each other, and there was nothing that you wouldn’t do for each other. Mista Fugo and Trish always commented that you and Giorno always behaved like a couple, earning dismissive laughs from you both. Sure, you both cared deeply for each other, but a couple? No, you were certain he didn’t think of you in that way.

Just as you turned to leave, Giorno had called you back, asking you to stay for the meeting he was going to have with the Capos and Mista. No sooner had you taken your seat, had Mista brought everyone in. You sat quietly, offering your input when requested, keeping your game face on for the duration of the time. There was one Capo however, that took advantage of every opportunity he had to address you, either directly with his questions or indirectly with his flirtatious glances.

You had only encountered Lucian a few times prior to this, each time proving to more difficult than the last, however, he has never openly behaved this way in front of Giorno before. You wished they would conclude their agenda so you could escape his piercing gaze.

“Well, if that’s everything, this meeting is adjourned,” said Giorno, almost as if he was able to read your mind, bringing the meeting to a close.

“If that’s all, (y/n), would you mind walking with me, there’s something I’d like to speak to you about, I won’t take too much of your time,” said Lucian to you.

You wordlessly looked towards Giorno, and sought his permission to leave, which he gave you with a curt nod, as his intense eyes followed you until you disappeared out the door.

“You’re scowling Giorno,” Mista was somewhat amused but he actually felt bad for his friend. Whether it was confusion or just awkwardness regarding these matters, you and the emerald-eyed man have been dancing around this issue for the longest time. It was becoming tedious to watch. Perhaps the threat of another person potentially taking you away would force Giorno to give a definition to his feelings.

Mista watched him intently, deciding to speak frankly, “You know you’re in love with her… and you know she loves you too. I don’t know what it is that’s tripping you both up, but I know you can’t keep doing this forever. She’s young and beautiful and will attract the attention of others who will be more brazen in their approach. If not Lucian, then someone else will take her from you.” The gravity of Mista’s words hit Giorno all at once. Before he could say anything more, Mista had returned his attention to what he was reading, and you had returned to the room with a soft smile on your face.

“What was that about?”

“Oh, he just needed my input on one of new territories he’s taking over, we’re meeting for dinner later,” you explained nonchalantly, unable to pick up on Giorno’s discomfort.

“Dinner? Like a date? Pried the young Don, trying to think about how best to thwart these plans.

“No… yes… I guess it is a date. He seemed excited enough…”

“I see…”

“You two are beyond frustrating, I’ll see you later,” with that Mista left in an exasperated huff.

You looked at Giorno, wondering what annoyed the gunslinger to that extent, but he just shrugged it off.

The rest of the day was spent quietly working, and the hours passed by faster than you would have liked them to.

“I think we’ve made good progress today, is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?” you ask as you start gathering your things to make your exit.

“Thanks, I think we’ve covered everything… can I send one of the drivers with you? Oh, I’ll send a guard too, I’m sure none of them would mind, they’re all very fond of you and…”

“Giorno, it’s fine, it’s not such a big deal, just dinner, and I can take care of myself you know. Or have you forgotten the times I’ve beaten you while we were sparring?”

“Beat me? I let you win… I… I miss those times…” The sad smile on his face mirrored your own feelings, this nostalgia was bitter sweet.

“Me too… we should make time to do those things again… well I should go now, see you tomorrow Gio,”. Giorno sadly watched as you exited his study for the second time that day, feelings of guilt and jealously overtook his senses in waves. He wanted you to be happy, but he could no longer ignore the glaringly obvious fact that he wanted- no, needed- to be the one to make you happy.

You decided to stop at Mista’s house before going home. You wanted to make sure he was okay after the way he left earlier.

“Hey Mista,”

“(y/n), what are you doing here? Did something happen?” said Mista in a concerned voice as he stepped aside to let you in.

“No, no, I came to see how you were doing… You were acting a bit weird this morning, is everything okay?” you ask as you walked in. You always thought of Mista as an older brother, he messed with you incessantly, but you could always talk to him about the things that mattered.

“Ah, haha, I’m fine, you didn’t have to come all this way, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“You creep, I came all this way to check on you and you sound like you want to get rid of me,” you said, playfully punching him on the arm.

“Whatever, gallinella, so is everything okay with you?”

As you and Mista spent some time chatting in general, you felt a sense of calm slowly permeate your mind. With this clarity, you also realized you forgot to tell Giorno about a very important meeting he needed to be at early the next day. Just as you fished out your cellphone to call him and let him know, Mista’s phone rang.

“Oh its Giorno,”

“Perfect, Mista can you place the call on speaker please, I need to talk to him really quickly,”

With a nod, he answers the call, “Hi Giorno, listen (y/n) is…”

“You were right Mista, you were right about everything. I’m completely in love with (y/n) and I don’t know what to do. Should I just pretend? Should I tell her?”

“You just did… I was going to tell you that I put you on speaker because she was here and wanted to talk to you, but you just kept talking…”

“Goddammit Mista!”

“Hey don’t blame me, anyway , I think you should call her…” suggested Mista as he gave you some space to process the information you had just become privy to.

Your eyes grew larger than saucers and your breath hitched in your throat, you couldn’t believe Giorno felt that way. No sooner had he hung up on Mista, did you see his name popping up on your caller ID.

“(y/n), I suppose you heard all of that… even though I didn’t want you to find out like this, I meant every word. I know you have other plans tonight, but can we please talk about this tomorrow?” explained Giorno.

“I did… I heard everything. I’ll cancel my plans tonight, I can’t go with him in good conscience after all of that, it’s not fair to anyone,”

“I won’t tell you what to do, and I’ll be respectful of whatever you decide, I just feel we need to talk…”

“Thank you Gio, and yes I agree, we’ll talk when I see you tomorrow…” you respond, the smile on your face was almost audible in the happy lilt your voice carried.

“Alright then tesoro, well, have a good evening, be safe on your way home.”

After saying goodbye to Mista and driving yourself home, you had the awkward task of calling Lucian, who was more understanding than you gave him credit for. For the rest of your night, your thoughts kept returning to Giorno, and it was then that you realized exactly how deep your feelings for him ran. With those sweet feelings effervescing in your chest, you went to sleep with a smile on your face, dreaming about what the future might hold for you both.

[rubykgrant]

Doc doesn’t listen because he, quite frankly, feels a little indignant about this. That first message hadn’t been meant for him, after all. Clearly this one wasn’t, either. This was… it just… he could be frustrated about this, right? He was ALLOWED to be upset every once in a while, without it being because of… whatever, the point was, he's been through a lot, and he's allowed to feel offended over this whole unfair situation. End of discussion.

Nobody had even come to check on him. They had been in the middle of a very tense and difficult situation, and he had stepped up, helped them when they needed it so they could get the job done. Heck, O'Malley had helped them too, and Doc had some mixed up feelings about THAT, but you'd think they would have noticed or been grateful… but nobody came back to check on him (them). No “thank you”, either. It wasn’t as if he was looking for praise, nothing THAT extreme… he didn’t need them to lift him up on their shoulders and hold a parade in his honor. It would just, y’know, be kinda nice if they ACKNOWLEDGED he existed (or that O'Malley existed, for that matter), and that he was helpful (they were BOTH helpful).

Right from the beginning, he had TRIED to be helpful. That was the whole point. He wanted to help people, no matter who they were, and he went where he was needed. Not to pat himself on the back, but that was a reasonably decent thing to do, yes? Sure, he hadn’t done anything extreme, he wasn’t the savior of all mankind, and he had no illusions about that. That wasn’t important, you didn’t need to be the pinnacle of peace or solve all the issues in the universe… it was just a simply decent thing to do; see that people needed help, so you do what you are capable of to help them.

He had TRIED to, at least… but from the get-go, nothing worked out. Nobody had taken his concerns or medical advice seriously. They had just bossed him around, or ignored him entirely. Looking back, he supposed that was fairly typical of this group… they ignored each other a LOT, and were a bossy bunch on top of that. It was a miracle they ever got anything done at all. What they DID get done usually involved destruction. Still, he could have handled that… but that wasn’t all. Oh, certainly not! NOPE, in addition to being thrown into the mix with these violent and illogical people, he had LITERALLY been possessed by some kind of… demonic computer virus ghost.

That had been BEYOND unpleasant… horrible, confusing, and frightening. He had somehow managed to get through it, though. He wasn’t the kind of person who gave in to despair, no matter how daunting the situation was. A positive attitude could improve anything… at least, slightly. It had been very difficult to have a positive attitude when there was something ELSE in your head that seemed to be made of BAD VIBES, but somehow he had managed. The worst part was… everybody else had paid more attention to that OTHER voice than his. They also didn't seem to understand, that evil AI was GONE. The voice they heard was still O'Malley, but it wasn't THAT O'Malley. How could he expect them to tell the difference between two names, when they couldn't even remember his?.

Frank DuFresne. He knew all of THEIR names, first and last, middle initials… he was actually CONSIDERATE like that. Oh, but it would be just a little to much to expect the same level of respect from them, evidently. Nobody called him by his name anymore. It was either “O’Malley” (and again, they didn't realize the O'Malley they were speaking to now WASN'T the thing that had used him like a puppet, this O'Malley WASN'T the body-hopping jerk!), or “Doc”. He wasn’t a doctor. Sure, he was a medic, but that wasn’t the same thing. Why had they insisted with Doc? Why had it stuck?

Doc, Doc, Doc, Doc, DOC, DOC, DOC! Church- that is, the Alpha AI, had started that. Epsilon might be a different AI, but he continued the same pattern (see? He could identify the AI, even though they both liked to go by Church, he knew how to tell people apart!). Everybody else just went along with it. Nick-names were supposed to be a sign of friendship, a term of endearment! Doc was just… the shortest sounding word they could use to describe him, one that couldn’t be applied to anybody else, so they wouldn’t have to put any thought into it!

… the worst part was, in his own head, he had started thinking of himself as Doc. He also thought of himself as O'Malley, but it wasn't that first O'Malley, the presence of that AI was gone, and he thought he would've been alone in his head after that. It didn't exactly sound... appealing to be alone, but that's how it's supposed to work after an AI stops possessing you, right? Just like he was supposed to be a pacifist, somebody who helped others, and did good.

When had he actually managed to accomplish something truly good? Something that one could qualify as saving lives, on a grand scale? When he acted like O’Malley…  or rather, when O'Malley had returned (after being alone in that dark void, and then discovering he WASN'T alone, and it had even been sort of... nice, having somebody who was always going to respond to you, one way or another). Not the AI, but part of him, the part that wasn't afraid to be as angry as possible. Maybe that wasn’t the best description, either; because O’Malley wasn’t just “anger”, and Doc was more than able of getting mad on his own.

Doc was plenty angry now; angry at the rest of them because they’d forgotten him, left him all alone (until he realized he WASN'T alone)… and even then, he had still helped them! O'Malley helped them! What was their reward? Forgotten AGAIN! Doc isn’t sure how to explain it to another person (not that anybody else is even listening to him), but it was... good having O’Malley. Good for him, and obviously good for other people. Look what they had accomplished together!

When he heard that message play suddenly, he had dared to hope (in a painfully pathetic way) that it was a sign they cared about him… but nothing in it had been for Doc. It was just Church, talking to the others. Doc was basically just an eaves-dropper on this conversation, an unneeded third-wheel. So what was this second message? More of the same, no doubt… and certainly not anything directed at Doc (or O'Malley). It was like he’d been accidentally added to their contacts, so he would receive group texts that were for everybody else… but not him. Nobody even liked him enough to check on him. Them.

Doc is tired of feeling so angry, at them and himself, and decides the only thing to do is change his own behavior; you can’t keep making the same mistakes and expect a different outcome. If they don’t care enough to talk to him, he’ll stop hopelessly expecting them to. He also won’t play this other message… why answer a phone call when you know somebody will just say “Wrong number”?

[tothemeadow]

~*ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ OᑎE*~

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral sex

words: 2.8k

Prologue

-

Perhaps you should’ve have taken Daki more seriously. After that fateful night at the so-called gathering, she’s become adamant on getting you hooked onto the luxurious life. Frankly, you thought the rest of the night was a bore, watching rich people mill about, talking to each other about issues that you could wish to understand. The only thing that really kept you going was the company of your best friend and the delicious edibles set on the many tables.

Time and time again, Daki brought up the encounter you had with Idris’ friends – could they even be called that? She gushed about how handsome Rengoku Kyojuro was, how darling it would be to hang off his arm. You noticed the suggestive hint to her tone; you knew exactly where her train of thoughts was going, and you’d be damned if she acted upon them.

In fact, you’re entirely positive that she’s planning on whisking you into her lifestyle. Even now, as you sit in some one-roomed, slinky club, she taps a manicured finger against her chin. The place itself is dripping with wealth, from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the clusters of velvet chairs, right down to the mahogany bar you sit at. You don’t have the slightest clue how Daki knows of a place like this, but – judging from the few other patrons acquainting the place – it’s meant for those types of meetings. You have the slightest inkling that this is where she met Idris in the first place.

Glancing over at her, you can understand why Idris was drawn to her in the first place; of course, Daki has always been insanely beautiful, but her sense of fashion is impeccable. Combined with her short skirt and the thick platforms on her feet, her legs are long, soft. She looks like she just came off straight off a runway; she might as well have, if the big Chanel logo on her beret hints at anything. She’s perfect sugar baby material, and you’d be lying if you’d say you didn’t respect her for pulling off such a feat.

“Mitsuri really liked you,” Daki’s saying. You snap back to attention, mentally cursing yourself out for getting lost in your thoughts. “She thinks you’re really pretty, too.”

Ah, Kanroji Mitsuri: renowned fashion designer and easily one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever met. Her welcoming, bubbly personality had definitely struck a chord inside you, and you were more than thankful that she had been so nice. Hearing something like that, though… Well…

Staring down at your wine, you swirl the deep red fluid around in your glass. “She’s just being nice,” you say, deflecting the compliment. You didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing.

Rolling her eyes, Daki pops a grape into her mouth and waggles a finger at you. “Listen here, darling; Kanroji Mitsuri thinks you’re pretty. I wouldn’t take that so lightly.”

“You’re also drop dead gorgeous,” you shoot right back. “Of course you wouldn’t take it so lightly.”

“You’re missing the point,” Daki says with a sigh. “An insanely hot and rich woman – who has a great personality, by the way – is interested in you. By the way you two were talking at the gathering, it’s almost like you two have known each other forever.”

Deciding to take the bait, you set your wineglass down and turn towards her. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Go on a date with her, obviously. I know Mitsuri will treat you right. And, if the night ends well…” Trailing off, she follows up with a giggle. “We’d be sugar sisters.”

“Come again?”

“Oh, come on, (y/n)! Think about how much fun it’ll be! Mitsuri will spoil you rotten and you’ll have mind-blowing sex.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at the unexpected confession. Wait, did that mean…?

Daki flashes you a sly look. “What, you don’t think I only like men, do you? I may have fucked around with Mitsuri once or twice… But it was only a physical attraction, nothing more. Sometimes you just need to get with a woman.”

Embarrassment crawls up your neck at the mere idea of Daki and Mitsuri engaging in certain… activities. Warmth floods your system; you should be ashamed of thinking of your friend like that, but she did just tell you something you particularly didn’t want to know. And, truth be told, you are growing the slightest bit curious as to how Mitsuri’s like in bed…

A smirk pulls at the corners of Daki’s pretty mouth. She obviously knows what’s going on in your head – the two of you have been friends long enough for it to be second nature at this point. However, it still catches you by surprise as she fishes out a little piece of paper and slides it across the bar to you. “Since you’re clearly thinking about it, have her number,” she purrs. “I don’t think you’ll regret giving her a call.”

Taking the paper into your hands, you examine the neat, curly writing. You can imagine Mitsuri writing down the number, a flattering smile on her face. Your heart nearly skips a beat; did she really feel attracted to you? It’s just that, well, somebody at her social standing would usually stick to someone in the same group. You’re nowhere near it, so to have something like this happen… It’s kind of incredible.

You sigh. “Fuck it. I’ll call her.”

Daki eagerly claps her hands. “That’s my girl!”

-

On second thought, you might be regretting your decision.

Around you, the delicate clank of crystal glasses and fine platters intermingle with the soothing piano music. Other patrons talk amongst themselves, the slight murmur of dozens of voices reminding you of a hoard of bees. Some call out to the waiters passing by, wanting them to refill their glasses or get the check.

The dim, golden light makes the place ethereal, a heavenly glow surrounding everyone’s heads. Your hands glide over the spotless tablecloth, the pristine white of it practically mocking you. Jeez, if a single drop of wine spills on it, they’d probably just throw it away. Damn rich people and their ways – the mere idea of how much this tablecloth costs has your head spinning.

“You don’t have to look so scared,” Mitsuri says. “Believe it or not, but everyone here is just like you.”

You nearly scoff at that. You want to tell her that no, nobody is like you. You’re not rich and swanky, not by a long shot. Besides, this is Kanroji Mitsuri you’re speaking to. She’s part of this crowd; and since she’s a renowned fashion designer with a fairly large following, she’s practically a celebrity.

“I find that hard to believe,” you mutter. Picking up your glass, you take a careful sip of water, not wanting to cause a spill and embarrass yourself.

It’s not helping your nerves in the slightest that Mitsuri looks the way she does; hair pulled into a high ponytail, a slinky dress with a plunging neckline, dangling earrings that reflect the soft golden light. You don’t want to be disrespectful and stare at her pure, creamy skin, but it’s so hard. She’s downright beautiful – breathtaking, even – and it’s a challenge to keep your head on straight.

Her green eyes practically light up at your comment, a light giggle passing through her plump lips. “Everyone feels the pressure, you know. The need to keep up a perfect façade. It’s a shame, really, how so many people in this room wear a mask constantly.” She sighs, then, leaning forward and perching an elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm. “I’ll be truthful, darling. The very first moment I met you, I knew you’d be different. You’re not some stuck-up corporate brat who’s too deep in their own shit to know right from left anymore. It’s refreshing.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. She hit the nail right on the head; sure, the upper class are usually depicted as being entitled assholes, but to hear it from Mitsuri? That’s just gold. She joins in on your laughter, the sweet, tinkling sound gracing your ears. It’s actually incredible how comfortable you feel around her, despite only knowing her for a couple of days.

“Plus,” Mitsuri continues, her laughter dying down, “I think you’re really cute.”

Scoffing, you try to downplay the excited fluttering in your heart. She’s almost been gushing about how nice you look all night, how much of a pleasantry it was that Daki introduced the two of you. Even better, she was so freaking ecstatic that you called her. Okay, yeah, so maybe you’re interested in Mitsuri. Who wouldn’t be? With the personality of a puppy and the looks of a supermodel, how could anyone say no to her?

“Now you’re just spoiling me,” you tell her.

“What can I say?” Mitsuri replies, voice smooth. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Shock floods your system, sucks almost all the air from your lungs. Jaw dropping, you gape at her, completely at a loss for words. It doesn’t matter, though; your waiter comes back with the meals the two of you’ve ordered, placing them down gently on the table and busying himself with pouring glasses of wine.

“Enjoy the meal, ladies,” he says, his thick accent flooding his words. With a polite bow, he takes his departure, stepping away with quick, precise movements.

Staring down at the food you ordered, your mouth begins to water. Even though you aren’t the biggest fan of these damned rich people, you’ve got to admit that you’re jealous of the things they eat. Like, look at this! This is something King Midas would eat himself!

“It’s almost as if you’ve never eaten before,” Mitsuri says along with another adorable giggle. “If that’s your reaction, then I’m going to have to take you to every high-end restaurant in town!”

“What? No! Mitsuri, you don’t have to do that!” you ramble. “It’s just… Well…”

“Oh, come on. I want to.” Mitsuri pauses, then, picking up her glass with slender fingers and taking a sip of her wine. “I agree with Daki, you know,” she continues, “I think the two of us could have a lot of fun together.”

“…I’m afraid I don’t understand…?”

Mitsuri casts a devious smile over the rim of her glass at you. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll find out soon enough.”

-

If you can recall it correctly, there’s a saying that would fit perfectly into this moment – blame it on the alcohol. Oh, but you’re not stupid. No, you at least have the guts to own up to your actions, as great or as stupid as they can be. That being said, you don’t want to admit to how desperate you’re feeling.

You didn’t doubt Daki for a single moment. As kind as she is beautiful, Mitsuri is the perfect package. She only managed to prove that point over and over again throughout the evening, swapping stories and genuinely taking the time to get to know you better. You still can’t believe she’s taken so much interest in you, but you aren’t going to complain about it any time soon. In fact, you’re glad that she’s into you.

Perhaps it was your tipsy mind that made you say yes; that’s what you want to believe, anyway. You don’t want to own up to the fact that you practically jumped at the opportunity of Mitsuri taking you home, to some swanky penthouse in one of the richest parts of the city. You barely had any time to gawk at the immaculate décor or overpriced furniture; no, what you got was a short tour as Mitsuri drug you off towards her bedroom.

The moments from there on out became nothing more than a blur. Clothing being slipped off, hands roaming over bare skin, the delicious heat of Mitsuri’s mouth. Your mind is still reeling from the turn of events, but you don’t have a single chance to think about it.

Heavy pants break through your lips, grace the still air in Mitsuri’s bedroom. The mattress is large, unforgivably so, topped with some of the softest blankets you’ve ever felt. Settled between your open legs, Mitsuri looks nothing short of perfection; long ponytail clutched in your grasp, her full eyelashes fluttering, the prettiest of blushes on her face, she’s a remarkable piece of art, reserved for your eyes only. The sounds spilling from between your legs is utterly sinful. Her lips and tongue eagerly work away at your sopping cunt, break down your walls until you’re a moaning mess.

“Fuck, Mitsuri,” you breathe, voice turning shrill towards the end. “That feels so good.”

Mitsuri moans at the praise, her manicured nails digging into the plush flesh of your thighs. Arching her back even more, you’re presented with a better view of her godly ass, the defined dimples on her back. She’s too gorgeous to handle, too fucking sexy. Giving her ponytail a yank, you relish in the pleased hum vibrating in the back of her throat.

“Naughty girl,” Misturi purrs as she pulls away. A mix of slick and smeared lipstick cover her lips, the lewd shine making your insides tighten. “I didn’t say you could do that, now did I?” The mere controlling tone of her voice causes another fat drop of slick to push its way out of your pussy. Eyes locking onto the sight, Mitsuri cracks a salacious smile. “Does baby girl like being talked down to?”

“Don’t… Don’t say it like that,” you whimper.

“I’m just speaking the truth,” Mitsuri purrs. “It’s not my fault this pretty little pussy likes it.” With her words, she traces a finger up and down your slit, collecting even more slick. Waggling the coated finger in your vision, she makes sure your eyes are on her before she slips it into her mouth, her swollen lips wrapping around it. “So tasty,” she moans. “So fucking sweet. You’re a real treat, you know that? It’s a shame Daki didn’t introduce us earlier.”

“Mitsuri-“

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t call me that,” she warns, the honey in her voice turning into something darker, heavier. You swallow thickly. “If you don’t mind, sweets… Call me Mommy. That is, unless you don’t want to cum? That works too.”

Oh, god, with an expression like that and her fingers playing with your sex, you’ll call her anything. “Mommy,” you murmur, “please.”

“Hmmm… What was that?”

Clenching the blankets between your fingers, you call out louder, “Mommy, please!” A loud gasp bursts from your throat, then, as Misturi shoves three fingers into you with no hesitation whatsoever. Her mouth descends on your clit once more, a pleased hum escaping her mouth at your sweet, sweet taste. Your hips buck into her wildly, your back arching off the mattress.

Mind clearing, vision turning fuzzy, your orgasm crashes over, your slick spilling all over her fingers and onto the blankets below. Mitsuri chuckles at that, seemingly pleased with both herself and your reaction. She keeps pressing on, though, her mouth and fingers working you through a second orgasm, and then a third. She’s relentless in her quest to make you cum over and over again, leaving you a shaking, crying mess of overstimulated nerves.

“Oh baby,” Mitsuri purrs once she pulls her mouth away. “You’re such a good girl to me, aren’t you? I’ll groom you real nice, shape you into something utterly perfect,” she continues, leaning in close and brushing her lips against your ear. “You’ll let me, won’t you? Come on, baby, let’s have some fun.” Shuffling up your body, she perches herself over your face, thick thighs encasing your head. “Be a darling and help me out, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you coo. “Yes.”

-

In the end, Daki got what she wanted – a sugar sister.

Granted, you weren’t super eager to jump on the opportunity at first, but after some convincing from Mitsuri, you figured why not? As long as it’s with Mitsuri, there’s no harm, really. Plus, if you’re going to continue having incredible nights with her… Hell, of course you’re gonna agree!

“So, how did the date go?” Kyojuro’s voice rings through the phone. He sounds a bit too eager to hear the fine, juicy details.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mitsuri teases. Sitting comfortably next to you in bed, she scans her eyes of your sleeping form, at your bare arms and shoulders unhidden from the blankets. She smiles. “It went great, actually,” she says, voice gentle. “(y/n)’s incredible.”

“She’s a looker, too,” Kyojuro says. Even though Mitsuri can’t see him, she knows he’s smirking. “Real beauty.”

“Heh. It almost sounds like you want me to share her.”

Kyojuro huffs in amusement. “Now that sounds like a good idea. Even Tengen wouldn’t shut up about her after she left. Maybe if you’re feeling generous…?”

Running her fingers over your smooth skin, Mitsuri bites her lip. “…Maybe. If she wants to be shared, that’s up to her. Either way…” she trails off, gives a light giggle. “She’s great in bed.”

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 23*

WHOO, y'all. I don't know what it is about this story but I am just...rolling it all out with the tragic backstory. No angst, I promise-- It ends happy chill out. But damn. Maybe I'm working out my own issues in here...lulz.

This gif will make so much sense you have no idea.

PART 22

Part 24

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------

“....And how did that make you feel?”

You tried not to laugh out loud as the question left Dr. Crestview’s mouth. Did she really just ask you that?

“...I mean it makes me ‘feel’ bad,” You rolled your eyes with a laugh while looking out the window. When you turned back to the doctor she was not laughing, and she was writing something down.

“...That was a joke,” You clarified.

“Oh yes, I get it,” She nodded as she continued writing.

“Do you?” You asked her frankly. The question caused her to stop writing and look at you.

“Mrs. Barba--”

“Ms. YLN,” You corrected. “I’m not married yet,”

“...Hmm, interesting,” She wrote something down. Seriously? She even had an insight on what-- technicalities?

“I’m sorry, was that some sort of test?” You asked sarcastically.

“Actually, it was,” She said to your surprise.

“Excuse me?” You looked at her, baffled.

“You know when most women get engaged, they start imagining their last names as their husbands. You know such as changing their signature, gathering documents, and the like,”

“...Are you serious?” You laughed again. “This is 2021 lady, half the women I know didn’t even take their husband’s last name at all,”

“And is that what you’re going to do?” She asked. “Keep your last name?”

“...If I say yes are you going to psychoanalyze that too?” You crossed your arms.

“In my experience Ms. Y/L/N, women who don’t want to change their last names tend to do so because they want to keep their independence, their…’identity’. They think taking a man’s last name is ‘giving up’ something. Giving up their identity,” She explained.

“...And?” You gestured with your hand as if waiting for her to continue.

“And in my educated opinion, it also signifies a woman going into a marriage with one foot out of the door already,” She simply stated.

“Wow,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Did I come here to resolve my trauma, or for marriage advice?”

“I think they’re one and the same, Ms. Y/L/N,” She stayed completely calm and emotionless.

“Are they?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Given what you’ve told me in our last few sessions, you’ve given off a tone that you don’t think you deserve good things. Maybe you’re keeping on foot out of your relationship so that when it falls apart, you’ll be ready,”

“Wow....wow,” You started to stand up and storm out of the office, but she stopped you with a question.

“I’m sorry if I offended you with my observation Y/N, but be honest. Am I wrong?”

You thought about all the talks you had with Rafael about ‘not being good enough’ for him, or ‘stealing his love’. And on the one hand you felt that you were ‘connected’, you felt safe and secure. After everything you’d been through, it was almost impossible not to be, right? Right?

“....And what is your magic solution to this feeling, doctor?” You crossed your arms.

“You need to forgive yourself,”

“...Jesus Christ,” You rolled your eyes with another laugh as you paced the room. “Really? That’s your solution? Telling me something I already know?”

“No, my solution is this: You need to apologize to your parents,”

“EXCUSE ME?” You practically screamed.

“You blame yourself for their death, correct? You think that because of their desire to make you happy they risked their lives driving into the city and therefore got into their accident,” She looked over her notes from past sessions with you.

“...Right,” You looked down at the floor.

“And I don’t think that you have ever forgiven yourself for that. And in not doing so, you haven’t forgiven yourself for anything you’ve done since then. All these things you say you’ve ‘done’ to Mr. Barba that you should be ‘punished’ for-- he doesn’t see it that way. Other people don’t see it that way. Your parents' accident wasn’t your own doing, getting kidnapped wasn’t your fault. I think that you need to find closure with your parent’s death before you can even begin to ‘forgive’ yourself for whatever transpired between you and Nevada Ramirez,”

“....So you want me to apologize to my parents? How are they going to ‘forgive’ me?” You asked her.

“I think you’ll find Ms. Y/L/N that just the act of apologizing will bring about its own form of forgiveness,” She smiled.

“.....Right…” You tried not to sound condescending, but for a shrink she sure sounded crazy.

“Or don’t listen to me, I can’t force you to do anything. But that is my advice,” She shrugged.

“Noted. Thank you, doctor,” You nodded and walked out the door.

----

You walked out into the streets of the city from your doctor’s office and thinking about just how or when you’d have a chance to go to your hometown where your parents were, when you were stopped by a young girl on the street.

“Oh my god...you’re Y/N!” She gasped.

“...Yes?” You stared at her blankly.

“You’re that girl who killed Nevada Ramirez!” She squealed, causing a few people to stare and take pictures of you as they walked past.

“Oh good lord…” You muttered nervously. “Yeah well um--”

“Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Um--” You looked around, not sure of what to do. You wanted to run down the street screaming, but you thought better of it. You turned back to her with the fakest smile you could form.

“Sure!” You threw an arm around her and smiled as big as you could as she snapped a selfie with her phone.

“Thanks!” She beamed at you. “ And by the way, your fiancé is REALLY sexy,”

“Oh girl I know,” You faked a laugh and a toss of your hair as she walked away with a laugh.

It really creeped you out that girls were ‘fangirling’ over your fiancé. As if you weren’t worried about keeping a hold of him all on your own. Also how did she even know what he looked like?

The article.

You grabbed your phone and did something you told yourself you’d never do: You googled yourself.

The first thing that popped up was an article on the NYTimes.com front page:

“Fairy Tale Romance Or Horror Movie?”

...What the fuck?

The article contained your video as the main focus. Then under it the article basically dictated the video, with Tasha’s opinions thrown in here and there. Then most of the photos from the photoshoot of you and Rafael were at the bottom of the page. They were gorgeous, you had to admit. Granted you were both airbrushed to hell, but Rafael in a suit drove you nuts. Even if it was just on a screen. You dialed his number as you continued walking down the street.

“....Hola, mi amor. How is my pinguino feeling?”

“Well she’s currently feeling like she’s got the sexiest man in New York City,” You grinned.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” He asked you curiously.

“Check out the picture I’m texting you,” You grinned as you texted him one of the photos from the spread.

“Oh Christ…” You heard him mutter through the phone, causing you to giggle.

“Oh yes, you even have your own fangirls now,” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No I do NOT,” He argued in disbelief.

“Yeah I’d be careful leaving your office there counselor, a group of tweens might be waiting outside,”

“Oh my god...they’re breaching the doors!” He acted terrified, making you laugh harder.

“Oh I think I see one,” You whispered as if you were sneaking up on someone. “She’s holding a ‘Barba 4Eva’ poster board,”

“You better be kidding,” He warned.

“No, in fact I think she’s right outside your door,” You bit your tongue with a smile.

“Oh well I’d better call security then,” He chuckled as he sauntered over to his office door and swung it open.

“Oh my Gooodddddddd it’s Rafael Barba!!! The sexiest ADA in New York City!!” You giggled wildly, jumping into his arms like a crazed fan.

“I should definitely look into some armed guards at my door,” He laughed as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Oh most definitely, wouldn’t want to let the crazies in,” You nodded as you kissed him again.

“Well I think it’s too late for that…” He teased you while tousling your hair.

“Shut up,” You playfully hit his hands away.

“Speaking of crazy, how was therapy today mi amor?” He asked cheekily.

Wowwwww, sexy AND sensitive, how did I get so lucky?” You rolled your eyes. “Actually, she gave me homework,”

“Did she?” He inquired.

“Yes,” You suddenly got very serious. “She um, she told me I need to go see my parents,”

“...Your parents?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, something about needing to ‘apologize’ to them or some weird shrink thing like that,”

“....Do you think it will help?”

“I mean...” You sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. But I’d like to try,”

“Bueno,” He nodded walking closer to you and kissing the top of your head. “So are you going to go now or--?”

“Well I was kind of hoping you’d come with me,” You bit your lip. You didn’t know if asking him to come along on your shrink homework assignment was allowed, but you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Maybe that was the point.

“Really?”

“I mean, I met your family,” You half laughed, trying to make light.

“Right,” He nodded his head with a chuckle. “Well then, let’s go,”

“...Now?”

“Why not?” He started to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you have a job?” You pointed to his desk.

“Oh they just like to pay me to sit in here so nobody robs the place,” He joked as he grabbed his coat. “I have nothing going on today baby, they won’t miss me.”

“Okay then,” You shrugged uneasily. “Guess we’re going to Jersey,”

----------------

After a train ride and a taxi later, you arrived in your small town of Shallow Meadow.

“Christ Almighty, I knew Jersey was in the dark ages, but not even having Uber??” Rafael grumbled. He hadn’t been in the back of a dirty cab in such a long time, and now he remembered why.

“Alright Daddy Warbucks, chill,” You laughed as you started walking with him through town.

It was a quaint little town; one stop light, one grocery store, two bars, something out of an old movie really You know the movies where the car breaks down in the tiny shitty town and all the townspeople are flesh eating zombies or something. The people of Shallow Meadow were pretty much like that. Well, to you anyway.

“So why didn’t we just have the Mayberry Express drop us at the cemetery?”

“...Because we don’t have roads you can drive on up there,” You answered with a nervous smile.

“...Right,” He shook his head as he noticed people coming out of shops to stare at the two of you. “...Do I have some kind of weird sign on my back that says NEW YORKER or what?”

“No, but that thousand dollar suit screams “moneybags” out here,” You smirked. “Besides, they’re not staring at you they’re staring at me,”

“...What? How do you know that?”

As if it was answering his question, a girl with bright red hair dressed in farm clothing and holding a baby on her hip came sauntering up to the two of you.

“Well lookie here,” She smirked. “Miss Prissy Pants brought back herself a Prissy Papa,”

“Excuse you?” Rafael was taken aback by such rudeness by such a poorly dressed person.

“Marla back off,” You scowled at her. “Just because you’re upset I found treasure and you’re stuck with trash--”

“OH, is that what we are now? Trash?” Marla spat. “You have a lot of nerve coming back here and saying that, murderer,”

“WHOA,” Rafael stepped in front of you. “I’m sorry, what-- what did you just call her?”

“Did she not tell you the story? Oh no wait I bet she did, her version. The version where she’s the victim and we’re all just the villains. Isn’t that right, Prissy?” She glared at you.

“...I never said you were--” You tried defending yourself.

“Really?” She scoffed. “Then why did you not even bother to show up to your folks’ funeral? Their ONLY daughter, the ones they DIED for. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave her high rise in the city to pay respects to the parents she KILLED,”

“It wasn’t like that and you KNOW it, Marla! And why was I going to come back? The only two people left in this town that tolerated me were gone--” You got up in her face.

“AND WHY IS THAT, Y/N?” She got back in yours, her baby almost falling out of her arms.

“Alright lady I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to back the hell off my fiancée--”

“Oh good God, your fiancé?” Marla laughed. “You would find yourself a sugar daddy, since you killed yours,”

“Alright you know what we’re leaving--” You grabbed Rafael’s hand and stomped away towards a huge hill that had a sign reading “CEMETERY” at the top.

“I hope you’re heading up there to beg their forgiveness Y/N, ‘cuz you sure as hell ain’t getting any down here!” Marla yelled angrily after you.

--------------

“...Well I think we just figured out where your forgiveness issues came from,” Rafael tried making light of the situation.

“Ya think?” You nodded.

“This whole time,” Rafael shook his head. “This whole time I thought you just had it in your mind that you were responsible for their death. But-- but you had an entire town telling you that,”

“...Yeah,” You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, baby?” Rafael took your hand as the hill got steeper.

“Because I thought they were right, Rafael!” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I tell you that an entire town thought that I was a murderer? That’s not really a selling point on a partner,”

“...You thought they were right?”

“...Well, yeah,” You nodded softly with a small smile.

“And now…?”

Before you could answer, you reached the entrance of the cemetery. Luckily it wasn’t that big; you were ashamed to admit you didn’t even know where they were buried. But you found them in a small corner under a shade tree. You walked up to their mutual headstone:

“Y/M/N AND Y/D/N: Beloved Husband And Wife, Mayor and First Lady.”

“...Mayor?” Rafael looked at you in surprise.

“Yeah, well--” You shrugged. “You see why they were so beloved, and I was the hellish daughter that killed them?”

“Y/N…” Rafael put a hand on your shoulder.

“I was supposed to want to ‘take over the city’, like I would ever want to be in charge of anything in this stupid backwards hick ass town,” You scoffed angrily, tears stinging your eyes.

“...But didn’t you say that your parents wanted you to go to Juliard? Pursue your dreams?” Rafael asked in confusion.

“They did! My grandparents-- they had a different view,” You shook your head. “The...the hierarchy here it’s-- well it’s not really a democracy,”

“...How so…?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Because everyone just loved and accepted my family as, I don’t know, the ‘royal’ family?” You felt so stupid comparing your family to the Royal Family, but you didn’t know how else to explain it.

“The Mayor and First Lady titles were just...passed down, in my family. And not because they were dictators or something,” You quickly added the last part, you didn’t want Rafael to think any less of your family than he probably already did.

“People here are just...simple,” You sighed. “They accept things the way they are, they hate change. So it was just assumed that my family would always be... "the family’,”

“But you didn’t want that,” Rafael said again.

“Of course I didn’t want that!” You scoffed. “I didn’t want to just get a high school degree and then marry some ‘Cletus’ redneck man from here and have ‘heirs’ just to keep the family going!”

“But your parents understood that,” Rafael reiterated.

“It didn’t matter what my parents did or didn’t understand. My grandfather had more clout with the townspeople here,” You rolled your eyes. “My dad was the ‘mayor’, but his dad controlled everything. His father had been the mayor for over thirty years before he passed it onto my dad, who didn’t really want it either” You walked up to the headstone and ran your fingers over your father’s name.

“....So when he tried to ‘save’ me from that life, my grandpa wouldn’t hear it. He blamed me for...for manipulating them into giving me anything I wanted, like I was a spoiled little child. He blamed me for them giving me their life savings to go to Julliard instead of putting it back into the town treasury. Then he blamed me when they got killed, and he just reinstated himself as mayor! Which, I haven’t checked but I’ll be damned if he isn’t still rattling around his old ass bones in our house! He’ll just haunt this place forever!” You threw your hands up and looked down angrily at the town down below.

“Carino…” Rafael came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You took his hands in yours and kissed them before turning to face him. You looked into his sparkling green understanding eyes for a moment, before directing your attention back at the headstone.

“....This is Rafael Barba, mama and daddy,” You pulled him gently forward. “We’re getting married soon,”

“...Nice to meet you folks,” Rafael said awkwardly.

“...Raffi they’re dead,” You smiled jokingly.

“Right, right,” He shook his head with a small laugh.

“...He’s a very good man, daddy. I know you always wanted that. And he’s very handsome, so you’ll have beautiful grandchildren mama, just like you wanted,” You smiled while Rafael softly chuckled.

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” You finally said with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I should have been here sooner,”

“But you’re here now,” Rafael softly rubbed your back.

“Yeah…” You nodded softly. This was the hard part.

“...I’m---I’m sorry, that I made you feel like horrible parents that night,” You tried not to cry, but the memories of that night flooded your memory the more you spoke.

“I’m sorry that you thought you needed to come see me, that you weren’t good parents if you didn’t,” Your lip trembled, you fell to your knees.

“...I’m sorry the last words you heard from me were ‘I hate you’,” You finally broke down sobbing.

“Y/N…” Rafael knelt down next to you and held you in his arms as you cried.

“Do you get now why...why I don’t think I deserve you? Why don't I think I deserve anything? Why I think I have to take everything? Fake everything? Because I am such a terrible person my own parents died thinking I hated them because I was that horrible to them!”

“They didn’t think you hated them, carino,” Rafael rocked you back and forth. “They knew you loved them, I know they did,”

“You know you’re probably right, Rafael. But it--I needed them to hear it,” You nodded at the gravestone.

“And?”

“...And I feel a lot better,” You smiled as Rafael wiped tears from your face.

“Really?”

“Yeah…Really,” You chuckled. “I guess that therapist really knows what she’s doing,”

“She should for the amount of money I pay her,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh as he helped you stand up.

“...Thank you for doing this with me, amor,” You sniffled, pressing your forehead against his.

“Of course, penguino,” He kissed you softly. “And, for what it’s worth--” He added as you two walked back down the hill towards town.

“I think that if your parents were alive, they would be proud of you,”

“Oh, I know my mother would take one look at you and be DAMN proud,” You both laughed at that.

“And I also think they would be appalled to see how their townspeople treat their daughter,” He glared at the town.

“Yeah well,” You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He took your hands as the sun started to go down in your sleepy little town. “Now can we please get back to the city before I catch something out here?”

“Yes,” You giggled, staring at him lovingly.

“Let’s go home,”